Post by The Anarchist on Aug 29, 2015 21:02:01 GMT -5
August 27, 2015
3:00 pm
Pure Class Wrestling was in need of additional heroes to combat the suffocating force known as The Black Hand.
I hadn’t planned on being one. I had been a career villain prior to my return, but the fight in PCW was of no concern to me. Had the cheering fans forgot the nefarious means I once used? That was ingrained in my wrestling DNA. Do they even know why they cheer me now? It’s when Revelation decided to jump Loc and myself from behind at Return to Glory, that my course was altered. It’s funny how time and circumstance changes things. Now I was officially a flawed hero…
(un)Stable, Kelli Starr and The Late Night Express were names I could unify with, should circumstances ever called for it. We collectively didn’t have to like one another, but we all shared the same enemy.
I had been content on colliding with whatever name was attached to my match for the show, regardless of who they were or what side of the line they stood on. Phinehas Grimm and Justin "Stormm" Michaels changed all of that. Now I would become a deeply embedded thorn in The Black Hand’s side with the others, until either they or my career ended once and for all.
But they’ll feel it every single step of the way until then.
From the glowing warmth of the setting red orange sun, to the light of a midnight moon and back to the rise of the eastern ball of fire, my mission was to make The Black Hand's life difficult.
The head of the snake...
The corrupted Presidential hopeful...
The human burying, shovel wielding brother...
The bandwagon jumping force of nature...
You will feel what war does.
Every once of pain, every second of sacrifice
Sacrifice...there's a word lost on The Black Hand
Would any of them sacrifice for the other?
I'm coming for you. No, WE’RE coming for you.
All of you, and anyone else that stands with you
I hope you’re ready to burn you like witches in Salem.
Hangtown will fall. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or anytime soon, but it will fall.
And I'll be there to stand over the smoldering remains of what was once a mighty empire or go down guns blazing.
It didn't have to be this way. But it's how you wanted it.
Sadistic. Grimm. Showtime. Stormm.
Four. Three. Two. One.
Zero...
At Trauma, we thankfully won't be on the same side again. This time Tha UnHoly Alliance is teaming with someone who was ‘Born Psycho’ and a man that I could actually relate to…in some sort of unbalanced way. Non Compos Mentis, one of the most hated foes of our opponents. It’s a true honor to have the new International Champion and Grand Slammer as a partner for this match. In fact, this was going to be a first, as I had never worked with him before.
Willard closed his journal, placing it inside of an open drawer from his dresser. He thought the old days and ways were a thing of the past since returning. It was like he and Destiny had talked about before he left for South Carolina this last time. He couldn't do anything that he would later come to regret once back home in Anaheim.
She had not been made privy to the news of the upcoming six-man tag match. Willard massaged his temples, forcefully running his fingers clockwise on them. It wasn't a headache he was trying to assuage himself of. There was something else penetrating those neurotransmitters in his brain. Going up against such a successful and formidable stable like The Black Hand, necessitated those old ways and days to come back out. Or so he tried convincing himself of.
Willard could talk up otherwise, but he knew it was no easy task. Long ago, he looked to destroy companies with names he aligned with. American Nightmare. Curt Lytch. Damien. At one point in time, Justin "Stormm" Michaels. From Locoz War Occult to FCW to Nightmare 2 Society and Havoc Inc, Willard had been on the takeover side before.
That was then. This is now.
As he continued to sit and attempt to control his inner demons from getting the better of him, he thought about this past Trauma, and the pure disgust of teaming with two members of The Hand. But, the pleasure he took in joining with his Loco to create chaos wasn’t lost in the moment. When Grimm needed a tag, Stormm was removed.
"The only thing he tagged was the steel steps with his head! Losing should bruise his ego like a peach..." Willard muttered under his breath.
When Stormm needed a tag, where was his partner? He wasn't where he was supposed to be. Instead he decided it was more important to stand with Sadistic and Showtime and trash talk Tha Alliance. Before Grimm was able to make the save, Stormm found himself defeated with a roll up by Nathan Saniti.
A freaking ROLL UP of all things. “It was one…two…three, kid.” Willard thought to himself. He continued, “Dream on, Michaels. You got pinned by one half of the tag team champions. Like the fans, we enjoyed seeing it happen. It wasn’t our fault Sadistic and Mr. Showtime decided to show up, now was it?”
The best part of it all was outnumbering The Black Hand eight to four. FINALLY they felt what it was like to be on the receiving end of the numbers game. The outcome didn't matter to Willard. He made it perfectly clear earlier in the evening.
"And now I get to add some more misery to their company..." Willard told himself again in a calmer tone. It was like he was making peace with what he felt he had to do. Standing up, he noticed Destiny leaning against the doorway, eyeballing him.
She knew. Fuck. Had she read what he just wrote?? Did she look it up on the website? Had someone tipped her off?
Willard shot a smile to his wife, holding up four fingers like he was Ric Flair. All that was missing was a WOOOO! And maybe going nuts by either dropping a knee or elbow onto a coat. She wasn't returning the smile. Uh oh. Instead, her look was dead serious.
"So, you and Johnny are facing them again, huh? Jason...I know what's going through your head. I can see it on your face. I heard it in your words this past show. And now you have written about it…"
Willard chuckled.
"Did you read them while I wrote? Well, it's not like it's private. I'm not hiding anything from you in it."
It was his attempt to brush aside everything she said before that. Fifteen years they had been married, with their anniversary fast approaching. However, they’ve been together since adolescence. In another part of the house, the sounds of their children echoed. Laughter filled the home. That was until Destiny turned her attention in their general direction.
"Girls, could you come here for a moment?"
The smile Willard had just flashed? Yeah, it was gone. This wasn't going to be bonding time. Destiny glared at her husband from the corners of her eyes. She watched the color slowly drain from his face. Per her request, the daughters Willard were now outside the door, with the twins poking their head inside over Destiny's legs.
"Hi daddy!" said Nancy. "Daddy!" squealed Madeleine, the joy from both in clear abundance. Willard sat on the bed as Destiny stepped aside to let them in. With a head start, they quickly ran to their father, jumping onto him with their little arms hugging his neck and waist. Willard held them tight, gently kissing each on the cheek, while never taking his eyes off of his wife.
The older two girls stood outside, but offered a warm smile and a wave, unsure of what mom needed them for. Nancy and Maddy soon jumped off, both saying bye in the most innocent way as they ran back out of the room to go play. Their sisters soon joined them, still confused by the stare down between Jason and Destiny.
"I want you to remember those girls anytime you even think of giving in. I'm not trying to stop you from doing what you love. You know that. At the end of the day, it's only a job, Jason. It's only a job. After the cameras stop rolling, and you leave to fly back home? That's where the whole "Anarchist" persona ends. We need Jason Willard here with us. The wonderful, loving father and husband. Not "The Anarchist" Jason Willard, the fictional creation you portray for the fans..."
Destiny sat right down next to him as she spoke. The bedroom door was now closed, allowing for this private discussion. There was no way possible for to fool her. She knew him better than he knew himself. Willard fixated his stare on the wedding band that hugged his left ring finger. A sigh punctuated what he was just told as it processed through his head. Destiny reached under to gently lift his head up, moving his braided hair out of the way, so she could see his entire face.
"Do you know why I adopted The Anarchist name?"
Destiny smiled, her dimples capturing the attention of Willard's eyes. It was one of his favorite things about her. Brushing aside a loose strand of brown hair off her face, Destiny leaned in for a kiss.
Only to have air meet her puckered lips.
Willard's head was turned away from them. Her eyes opened shortly after her attempt wasn't reciprocated. She tried a second time, but was met with resistance in pulling him into one. Willard stood up and quickly spun, braids flying around his head. Taking care of that problem, he frantically pulled them apart, leaving his hair a wild mess, until he tied it into a ponytail.
"Anarchy is defined as being a state of disorder due to absence or nonrecognition of authority." Said Willard.
Destiny nodded, replying, "Yeah, I know what the fucking definition is. I'm not stupid” in a sarcastic way.
Willard continued, trying to keep his voice calm.
"A state of disorder. That's the only thing that applies. Disorder. Chaos. Turmoil. Whatever you want to call it. While yes, I will stand against company authority as needed; I didn't take the name for that reason. It represents all of that inner havoc in my head. We’re not a halfway home anymore, Destiny. That’s the absence of authority I’m talking about now. For all of those years we spent with psychiatrists, on medications, in group therapies...it’s all in the past. The difference between THEN and NOW is that I have better control of it thanks to you. Maybe not all the time, but far better than when we first started dating."
It was his way of justifying.
”Bullshit you didn’t! Have you forgot that I was with you damn near every show until you retired? I remember when and why you decided on the name!”
Destiny slowly rocked back and forth, choosing not to look at her husband. Tightly she grabbed the mattress, looking like she much rather destroy it in her current state. Willard himself didn't look all that well. He walked over to his dresser and took out his journal, flipping through the many pages with scrawled admissions. He got to his latest one and handed it over to his wife.
"Read that."
"Fuck you."
Willard threw the book on the floor, quickly turning to go lock his bedroom door. Then he came back and angrily picked his journal up, jamming his finger on what he wanted Destiny to read.
"Read that, please."
Destiny's rocking stopped. When she lifted her head up, her eyes were filled with tears. Not from sadness, but of anger. One that could reach an unbridled level quickly if this progressed.
"FUCK YOU!!"
She stood up, eye level with him. Willard only held three inches in height on her, so this was pretty even. Neither spouse was moving an inch here. Willard discarded the journal to the side, his body pressed into hers as the staring contest now went nose to nose, thanks to her grabbing him by the back of his head.
"There is no anarchy or anarchist! It isn't a part of you, Jason. It's just. A. Name. A. Gimmick. I'll borrow your then and now. THEN...you lived every bit of it's defined meaning, and it nearly destroyed you. NOW? You portray it for the show. You have an illness that is well under control, and its name isn’t anything associated with what anarchy is. We have each other. We have four beautiful daughters that need us. US. You and Me. When you leave South Carolina, you leave The Anarchist behind. At home, you're a father. You're a husband. You are loved…"
"And I'm also teaming with my best friend and a Schizophrenic on the next show, to combat the machine known as The Black Hand. I don't book the matches. I get booked in them. And in this booking, I intend on defeating the opposition!”
Destiny sat down, shaking her head. Her fists began to work over the bed with fury. Willard crouched down in front of her, trying to grab his wife's hands, but found his attention being diverted to knocking outside the door.
"Mom? Dad? What are you guys doing in there?"
It was Kristen.
”Nothing sweetie. We’ll be out soon. Unless an Underground fight takes place to honor the good names of Judge and Jury!” Willard laughed nervously.
”Umm, okay Dad. Hurry up though, we are wanting pizza!”
Willard turned his attention back on Destiny.
”Still want to fuck me?”
She wasn’t amused.
”Destiny, Destiny, Destiny. You are my voice of reason. I’m willing to admit that I should separate the gimmick from my actual self. With The Black Hand, it makes me feel like I HAVE to go back to those old days to defeat them. They ARE all individually talented and more than capable foes, regardless of what I think of them. But, you’re right.”
She still wasn’t amused. Sitting there with her eyes closed, she was trying her hardest to find a sense of calm. Willard put his head down as he sat next to her. Taking in a deep breath, he quickly turned and pointed her face towards his, planting a rather long and passionate kiss on her (no tongues, I promise). Destiny at first was resistant to it, having her efforts ignored previously. But as the sensation of his lips worked over hers, she gave in. Throwing her arms around his neck, she held tight and scooted onto his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist. Destiny pulled away, giving him one last soft peck and a rough love bite on the neck, before resting her head against his.
”The answer to your question is yes. I do. Tonight after the girls are in bed. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be lucky if you have enough strength to make it to your match. You’re mine, babe. Always and forever, in life and death.”
Willard smiled and repeated her sentiment.
”Another thing I don’t think I ever told you is I never take my wedding ring off in matches. It makes me feel like you are there, even though you physically can’t be anymore. It keeps me grounded.”
Destiny smiled at this, saying “Good. I’ll sew it into your skin to keep it in place if you ever take it off” as she looked at her own wedding band.
She wasn’t kidding.
Destiny was a sweetheart of a person if you were to meet her, but not someone to cross. She loved her family deeply, and was as devoted to Jason, as he was to her. She had her own demons inside, however, that was a different matter entirely.
”Johnny, Mentis and myself are going to wreck Revelation and Showtime faster than Michael’s aspirations of becoming President. Or, if you want it in non-wrestling terms, faster than LeeAnn wrecked Johnny’s life, by having children. I have it on good authority that the procreating acts took a combined thirty seconds. HAHA, taken advantage of my ass.”
Destiny laughed and shook her head as she got off Willard’s lap. She reached behind and grabbed him by the hand to pull him up. With her fingers in-between his, they headed for the bedroom door. Just as she unlocked it, Destiny turned around.
”Since you brought it up, maybe we should take the girls to Camarillo sometime. Show them where we met…”
”No, Destiny. That was then. This is now. We have our memories of that place, but it’s best left in the past. They wouldn’t understand. Well, Kristen might. Autumn probably would spout off facts she read on the Internet or from a book.” He laughed, “But the twins are too young yet. Leave that where it belongs.”
Destiny bit her lip with a slight nod. Another kiss exchanged between them, before they were out of the room and into the impatiently waiting daughters line of sight.
”It’s about time you two! Jeez. I was beginning to think I had to marry Jimmy before you two fossils decided to get out of there!”
Willard was NOT amused by that joke.
Damn kids.
3:00 pm
Pure Class Wrestling was in need of additional heroes to combat the suffocating force known as The Black Hand.
I hadn’t planned on being one. I had been a career villain prior to my return, but the fight in PCW was of no concern to me. Had the cheering fans forgot the nefarious means I once used? That was ingrained in my wrestling DNA. Do they even know why they cheer me now? It’s when Revelation decided to jump Loc and myself from behind at Return to Glory, that my course was altered. It’s funny how time and circumstance changes things. Now I was officially a flawed hero…
(un)Stable, Kelli Starr and The Late Night Express were names I could unify with, should circumstances ever called for it. We collectively didn’t have to like one another, but we all shared the same enemy.
I had been content on colliding with whatever name was attached to my match for the show, regardless of who they were or what side of the line they stood on. Phinehas Grimm and Justin "Stormm" Michaels changed all of that. Now I would become a deeply embedded thorn in The Black Hand’s side with the others, until either they or my career ended once and for all.
But they’ll feel it every single step of the way until then.
From the glowing warmth of the setting red orange sun, to the light of a midnight moon and back to the rise of the eastern ball of fire, my mission was to make The Black Hand's life difficult.
The head of the snake...
The corrupted Presidential hopeful...
The human burying, shovel wielding brother...
The bandwagon jumping force of nature...
You will feel what war does.
Every once of pain, every second of sacrifice
Sacrifice...there's a word lost on The Black Hand
Would any of them sacrifice for the other?
I'm coming for you. No, WE’RE coming for you.
All of you, and anyone else that stands with you
I hope you’re ready to burn you like witches in Salem.
Hangtown will fall. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or anytime soon, but it will fall.
And I'll be there to stand over the smoldering remains of what was once a mighty empire or go down guns blazing.
It didn't have to be this way. But it's how you wanted it.
Sadistic. Grimm. Showtime. Stormm.
Four. Three. Two. One.
Zero...
At Trauma, we thankfully won't be on the same side again. This time Tha UnHoly Alliance is teaming with someone who was ‘Born Psycho’ and a man that I could actually relate to…in some sort of unbalanced way. Non Compos Mentis, one of the most hated foes of our opponents. It’s a true honor to have the new International Champion and Grand Slammer as a partner for this match. In fact, this was going to be a first, as I had never worked with him before.
Willard closed his journal, placing it inside of an open drawer from his dresser. He thought the old days and ways were a thing of the past since returning. It was like he and Destiny had talked about before he left for South Carolina this last time. He couldn't do anything that he would later come to regret once back home in Anaheim.
She had not been made privy to the news of the upcoming six-man tag match. Willard massaged his temples, forcefully running his fingers clockwise on them. It wasn't a headache he was trying to assuage himself of. There was something else penetrating those neurotransmitters in his brain. Going up against such a successful and formidable stable like The Black Hand, necessitated those old ways and days to come back out. Or so he tried convincing himself of.
Willard could talk up otherwise, but he knew it was no easy task. Long ago, he looked to destroy companies with names he aligned with. American Nightmare. Curt Lytch. Damien. At one point in time, Justin "Stormm" Michaels. From Locoz War Occult to FCW to Nightmare 2 Society and Havoc Inc, Willard had been on the takeover side before.
That was then. This is now.
As he continued to sit and attempt to control his inner demons from getting the better of him, he thought about this past Trauma, and the pure disgust of teaming with two members of The Hand. But, the pleasure he took in joining with his Loco to create chaos wasn’t lost in the moment. When Grimm needed a tag, Stormm was removed.
"The only thing he tagged was the steel steps with his head! Losing should bruise his ego like a peach..." Willard muttered under his breath.
When Stormm needed a tag, where was his partner? He wasn't where he was supposed to be. Instead he decided it was more important to stand with Sadistic and Showtime and trash talk Tha Alliance. Before Grimm was able to make the save, Stormm found himself defeated with a roll up by Nathan Saniti.
A freaking ROLL UP of all things. “It was one…two…three, kid.” Willard thought to himself. He continued, “Dream on, Michaels. You got pinned by one half of the tag team champions. Like the fans, we enjoyed seeing it happen. It wasn’t our fault Sadistic and Mr. Showtime decided to show up, now was it?”
The best part of it all was outnumbering The Black Hand eight to four. FINALLY they felt what it was like to be on the receiving end of the numbers game. The outcome didn't matter to Willard. He made it perfectly clear earlier in the evening.
"And now I get to add some more misery to their company..." Willard told himself again in a calmer tone. It was like he was making peace with what he felt he had to do. Standing up, he noticed Destiny leaning against the doorway, eyeballing him.
She knew. Fuck. Had she read what he just wrote?? Did she look it up on the website? Had someone tipped her off?
Willard shot a smile to his wife, holding up four fingers like he was Ric Flair. All that was missing was a WOOOO! And maybe going nuts by either dropping a knee or elbow onto a coat. She wasn't returning the smile. Uh oh. Instead, her look was dead serious.
"So, you and Johnny are facing them again, huh? Jason...I know what's going through your head. I can see it on your face. I heard it in your words this past show. And now you have written about it…"
Willard chuckled.
"Did you read them while I wrote? Well, it's not like it's private. I'm not hiding anything from you in it."
It was his attempt to brush aside everything she said before that. Fifteen years they had been married, with their anniversary fast approaching. However, they’ve been together since adolescence. In another part of the house, the sounds of their children echoed. Laughter filled the home. That was until Destiny turned her attention in their general direction.
"Girls, could you come here for a moment?"
The smile Willard had just flashed? Yeah, it was gone. This wasn't going to be bonding time. Destiny glared at her husband from the corners of her eyes. She watched the color slowly drain from his face. Per her request, the daughters Willard were now outside the door, with the twins poking their head inside over Destiny's legs.
"Hi daddy!" said Nancy. "Daddy!" squealed Madeleine, the joy from both in clear abundance. Willard sat on the bed as Destiny stepped aside to let them in. With a head start, they quickly ran to their father, jumping onto him with their little arms hugging his neck and waist. Willard held them tight, gently kissing each on the cheek, while never taking his eyes off of his wife.
The older two girls stood outside, but offered a warm smile and a wave, unsure of what mom needed them for. Nancy and Maddy soon jumped off, both saying bye in the most innocent way as they ran back out of the room to go play. Their sisters soon joined them, still confused by the stare down between Jason and Destiny.
"I want you to remember those girls anytime you even think of giving in. I'm not trying to stop you from doing what you love. You know that. At the end of the day, it's only a job, Jason. It's only a job. After the cameras stop rolling, and you leave to fly back home? That's where the whole "Anarchist" persona ends. We need Jason Willard here with us. The wonderful, loving father and husband. Not "The Anarchist" Jason Willard, the fictional creation you portray for the fans..."
Destiny sat right down next to him as she spoke. The bedroom door was now closed, allowing for this private discussion. There was no way possible for to fool her. She knew him better than he knew himself. Willard fixated his stare on the wedding band that hugged his left ring finger. A sigh punctuated what he was just told as it processed through his head. Destiny reached under to gently lift his head up, moving his braided hair out of the way, so she could see his entire face.
"Do you know why I adopted The Anarchist name?"
Destiny smiled, her dimples capturing the attention of Willard's eyes. It was one of his favorite things about her. Brushing aside a loose strand of brown hair off her face, Destiny leaned in for a kiss.
Only to have air meet her puckered lips.
Willard's head was turned away from them. Her eyes opened shortly after her attempt wasn't reciprocated. She tried a second time, but was met with resistance in pulling him into one. Willard stood up and quickly spun, braids flying around his head. Taking care of that problem, he frantically pulled them apart, leaving his hair a wild mess, until he tied it into a ponytail.
"Anarchy is defined as being a state of disorder due to absence or nonrecognition of authority." Said Willard.
Destiny nodded, replying, "Yeah, I know what the fucking definition is. I'm not stupid” in a sarcastic way.
Willard continued, trying to keep his voice calm.
"A state of disorder. That's the only thing that applies. Disorder. Chaos. Turmoil. Whatever you want to call it. While yes, I will stand against company authority as needed; I didn't take the name for that reason. It represents all of that inner havoc in my head. We’re not a halfway home anymore, Destiny. That’s the absence of authority I’m talking about now. For all of those years we spent with psychiatrists, on medications, in group therapies...it’s all in the past. The difference between THEN and NOW is that I have better control of it thanks to you. Maybe not all the time, but far better than when we first started dating."
It was his way of justifying.
”Bullshit you didn’t! Have you forgot that I was with you damn near every show until you retired? I remember when and why you decided on the name!”
Destiny slowly rocked back and forth, choosing not to look at her husband. Tightly she grabbed the mattress, looking like she much rather destroy it in her current state. Willard himself didn't look all that well. He walked over to his dresser and took out his journal, flipping through the many pages with scrawled admissions. He got to his latest one and handed it over to his wife.
"Read that."
"Fuck you."
Willard threw the book on the floor, quickly turning to go lock his bedroom door. Then he came back and angrily picked his journal up, jamming his finger on what he wanted Destiny to read.
"Read that, please."
Destiny's rocking stopped. When she lifted her head up, her eyes were filled with tears. Not from sadness, but of anger. One that could reach an unbridled level quickly if this progressed.
"FUCK YOU!!"
She stood up, eye level with him. Willard only held three inches in height on her, so this was pretty even. Neither spouse was moving an inch here. Willard discarded the journal to the side, his body pressed into hers as the staring contest now went nose to nose, thanks to her grabbing him by the back of his head.
"There is no anarchy or anarchist! It isn't a part of you, Jason. It's just. A. Name. A. Gimmick. I'll borrow your then and now. THEN...you lived every bit of it's defined meaning, and it nearly destroyed you. NOW? You portray it for the show. You have an illness that is well under control, and its name isn’t anything associated with what anarchy is. We have each other. We have four beautiful daughters that need us. US. You and Me. When you leave South Carolina, you leave The Anarchist behind. At home, you're a father. You're a husband. You are loved…"
"And I'm also teaming with my best friend and a Schizophrenic on the next show, to combat the machine known as The Black Hand. I don't book the matches. I get booked in them. And in this booking, I intend on defeating the opposition!”
Destiny sat down, shaking her head. Her fists began to work over the bed with fury. Willard crouched down in front of her, trying to grab his wife's hands, but found his attention being diverted to knocking outside the door.
"Mom? Dad? What are you guys doing in there?"
It was Kristen.
”Nothing sweetie. We’ll be out soon. Unless an Underground fight takes place to honor the good names of Judge and Jury!” Willard laughed nervously.
”Umm, okay Dad. Hurry up though, we are wanting pizza!”
Willard turned his attention back on Destiny.
”Still want to fuck me?”
She wasn’t amused.
”Destiny, Destiny, Destiny. You are my voice of reason. I’m willing to admit that I should separate the gimmick from my actual self. With The Black Hand, it makes me feel like I HAVE to go back to those old days to defeat them. They ARE all individually talented and more than capable foes, regardless of what I think of them. But, you’re right.”
She still wasn’t amused. Sitting there with her eyes closed, she was trying her hardest to find a sense of calm. Willard put his head down as he sat next to her. Taking in a deep breath, he quickly turned and pointed her face towards his, planting a rather long and passionate kiss on her (no tongues, I promise). Destiny at first was resistant to it, having her efforts ignored previously. But as the sensation of his lips worked over hers, she gave in. Throwing her arms around his neck, she held tight and scooted onto his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist. Destiny pulled away, giving him one last soft peck and a rough love bite on the neck, before resting her head against his.
”The answer to your question is yes. I do. Tonight after the girls are in bed. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be lucky if you have enough strength to make it to your match. You’re mine, babe. Always and forever, in life and death.”
Willard smiled and repeated her sentiment.
”Another thing I don’t think I ever told you is I never take my wedding ring off in matches. It makes me feel like you are there, even though you physically can’t be anymore. It keeps me grounded.”
Destiny smiled at this, saying “Good. I’ll sew it into your skin to keep it in place if you ever take it off” as she looked at her own wedding band.
She wasn’t kidding.
Destiny was a sweetheart of a person if you were to meet her, but not someone to cross. She loved her family deeply, and was as devoted to Jason, as he was to her. She had her own demons inside, however, that was a different matter entirely.
”Johnny, Mentis and myself are going to wreck Revelation and Showtime faster than Michael’s aspirations of becoming President. Or, if you want it in non-wrestling terms, faster than LeeAnn wrecked Johnny’s life, by having children. I have it on good authority that the procreating acts took a combined thirty seconds. HAHA, taken advantage of my ass.”
Destiny laughed and shook her head as she got off Willard’s lap. She reached behind and grabbed him by the hand to pull him up. With her fingers in-between his, they headed for the bedroom door. Just as she unlocked it, Destiny turned around.
”Since you brought it up, maybe we should take the girls to Camarillo sometime. Show them where we met…”
”No, Destiny. That was then. This is now. We have our memories of that place, but it’s best left in the past. They wouldn’t understand. Well, Kristen might. Autumn probably would spout off facts she read on the Internet or from a book.” He laughed, “But the twins are too young yet. Leave that where it belongs.”
Destiny bit her lip with a slight nod. Another kiss exchanged between them, before they were out of the room and into the impatiently waiting daughters line of sight.
”It’s about time you two! Jeez. I was beginning to think I had to marry Jimmy before you two fossils decided to get out of there!”
Willard was NOT amused by that joke.
Damn kids.