Post by Meatball-kun on Jul 19, 2014 8:29:13 GMT -6
Hospital
Chicago, Illinois
July 16, 2014
A tiny window in a heavy metal hospital door. Chuck stands on one side, staring though it. On the other side, an infant lies in a glass crib, tubes running through his body, pumping blood into a large machine. Blake Michael Matthews. Born one week ago. Now, Chuck watched helplessly as Blake struggled, breathing through tubes wired through his throat and into his lungs.
Sofia was all but catatonic. For the first couple days...she was hysterical. Watching a child slowly die will do that to a mother. Now...with Blake on the machines, she'd been silent for days. She sat, either in a plastic chair in the waiting room, or a cushioned chair in the doctor's office. She stared at the floor, expressionless. Motionless. Chuck wasn't quite sure whose fate was crushing him more: His son's or his wife's.
Now, Chuck stared. Blake stretched his arms, gently kicking his feet. He turns his head towards Chuck. His face is red and tears cling to the corners of his eyes. Chuck's gut wrenches. There he was...his firstborn son. Hurting. In pain. And Chuck could do nothing but watch as his fate was decided by the cold hunk of metal in the corner of the room.
Chuck Matthews: "How did this happen?"
His voice is barely a whisper, barely audible, as though he didn't even mean the words to escape. It's been a wild week. Chuck sighs. Five years ago, "wild" was just another word. It was fun. It was a challenge. Something he could watch unfold. Life was simple then. A thousand pieces, all moving around. A million strings, playing their notes, creating their chords...harmonies...dissonance...but Chuck could see them. Chuck saw each string. He could hear each note, one lonely thread in a giant, knotted-up ball of yarn. Chuck understood how it worked. He saw the way everything coincided...co-existed. That's what he did. That's how he worked.
But this...this was new. This was different. It was a piece he didn't see coming...that he COULDN'T see coming. And that was new...and not in a good way.
"You're a smart kid. You always have been. But there are some situations even you can't see coming."
Paul's words ring through Chuck's head, and suddenly, Chuck understood. This was what he had meant. This is what Chuck wouldn't see coming...
Hospital
Chicago, Illinois
Five Days Earlier...
Chuck and Sofia sit in the doctor's office, across the desk from Blake's doctor.
Doctor: "I know this has been hard on the both-"
Sofia Sinclair: "Just tell us what's going on with our son."
The doctor stares at the two of them for a moment. He nods slowly, and takes a deep breath.
Doctor: "Listen...I wish there was an easy way to explain these things, but-"
Chuck stares coldly at the doctor.
Chuck Matthews: "Answer the woman's question."
The doctor glances at Chuck, but doesn't address Chuck's angry tone.
Doctor: "Blake suffered a critical heart failure during the delivery. Now, we've been able to keep him going, but his condition is getting worse. If we continue on his current treatment, he...we give him a day."
Chuck Matthews: "What's wrong with him?"
Chuck's voice is cold. Angry. Sofia squeezes her husband's hand. Chuck glances at her, and bows his head.
Sofia Sinclair: "There's nothing we can do?"
Doctor: "Well...that's why we called you in. We may have a solution, but we need you do understand straight-off that there are huge risks-"
Sofia Sinclair: "We'll do it."
Doctor: "Mrs. Sinclair, this is not something we feel you should jump into."
Sofia stares at him, but nods.
Sofia Sinclair: "Please...go on."
Doctor: "Now...Blake's condition means he's not getting proper oxygen supply to his blood. Without it, he'll die. That's not a risk. It will happen, and it will happen soon. Now, what we can do is put Blake on a specific life support system designed for this sort of matter. What we do is we remove Blake's bad blood and replace it with fresh, oxygenated blood. It's all done through transfusions and a gas pump that we'll pump through his system."
Chuck Matthews: "But there are risks."
Doctor: "Well...yes. You should know that we only recommend this treatment to patients who have no chance of survival otherwise. This is an absolute last resort."
Chuck Matthews: "What's the risk?"
Doctor: "We add a chemical to the blood to prevent it clotting in the machine. Now...the chemical remains when the blood returns to the body. Many patients suffer some sort of internal bleeding, and with the medicine in his system-"
Chuck Matthews: "They die."
Doctor: "Even if your son survives, Mr. Matthews, many patients suffer long term effects. Deafness, cognitive disabilities...we can't guarantee your son will have a normal, healthy life."
Sofia Sinclair: "What are his chances?"
The doctor sighs.
Doctor: "Given his condition? The best we can give him is ten percent."
Chuck Matthews: "Mortality?"
Doctor: "Survival."
Sofia chokes back a sob. Chuck clenches his teeth, but nods.
Chuck Matthews: "And you said there's no chance if we don't put him on it?"
Doctor: "There's nothing we can do. The best we can is keep him going until he fights it himself."
Chuck Matthews: "I guess we don't have much choice then."
Present Day
Chuck stands, watching. Blake continues to squirm in his crib. He reaches out...towards what, Chuck didn't want to think. Tears continue rolling down the baby's face, but no sounds come out. He can't speak. The tubes in his throat constrict any sort of sound. A nurse stands over him, checking his signs, keeping her eyes on the machines. She looks down at Blake, crying in his crib. She bites her lip sadly, and returns to work.
?: "Mr. Matthews?"
Chuck jumps at the voice. He turns to see a young man, Leo Dallas, standing behind him.
Leo Dallas: "Can we talk?"
Chuck looks at his chief of security for a moment.
Chuck Matthews: "The fuck are you doing here?"
Leo Dallas: "I apologize...but I think I've found something that you might want to see."
Chuck looks back in the room at Blake.
Chuck Matthews: "This can't wait?"
Leo Dallas: "It'll only be a moment."
Chuck clenches his teeth, groaning under his breath.
Chuck Matthews: "....yeah. Fine. Let's talk."
------------------------------------------------------
Chuck Matthews: "At Ascendency, I will have been in EXODUS for four months.
Four months, I've been busy at work. Planning. Working. Slowly moving towards my master plan.
And for four months, you have failed to stop me. Failed to slow me down. Hell...you've failed to even figure out what my plan is.
What is that you're always going on about, Kliff? 'Do people ever change?'
You know...I think we're in agreement. Sad fact of the matter is, people DON'T change. Nothing ever changes. It's the same sad old cycle. The same old shtick, week after week. The same games, the same stories, and all that changes is the cast.
So what's my game?
That seems to my favorite question, doesn't it? We all know I've got a plan, and the longer this goes on, the closer I get to completing it. But as I say, week after week, month after month...you have no idea what that plan is. And honestly...that's what makes this fun.
I'm watching as the EXODUS world runs around like a chicken with its head cut off. I'm watching as the powers that be frantically try and figure out what it is that they're doing with Chuck Matthews. What they can do to stop a plan that they don't understand. Or, maybe even better...what they can do to ensure that even if my plan DOES succeed, that they can figure a way around it.
I mean, I haven't exactly been choosy about who I associate with, have I? Haven't really been too concerned with who I piss off, either. But you know what's great about being me? You know what's awesome about my position? Where I stand in EXODUS? I can side wherever I like. It doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, everybody goes on talking about this...war, or whatever the fuck. Collins and Furor and all their merry men, duking it out for God knows what the fuck. But me? I'm an outsider. I'm not attached to anyone.
And that makes me a very valuable asset. It makes me a very useful little weapon to have in your arsenal. What EXODUS has is the greatest mind in this industry, and that mind has no ties to anyone. No loyalties. No animosities.
I'm a mercenary, ready to work for the highest bidder. Well...maybe that's a bad word. I'm not some hired thug. I'm not some meathead who will run to the ring and start hitting people...no...that's not my style. I'm a mastermind. I'm the guy you go to when you want to tear a man apart without ever laying a finger on him.
See...that's what I do. I see the pieces on the board. I see where they move, I see where they go next, and I move my own pieces accordingly. My job is to be the mastermind. My job is to think several steps ahead.
But maybe...maybe the lovely powers that be have finally realized that. Maybe they've realized exactly what a powerful entity has stumbled into their midst. Maybe they've finally seen just how dangerous Chuck Matthews can be...and how useful that brain can be if you can harness it.
Are we all on the same page? Are we all listening? Kliff?
Now...what reason might we have to put Chuck Matthews up against Kliff Ulysses? We know I do this every match. I see through these little games. These random matches. I see the reasoning. I see the gears turning behind every match. Every opponent. Would you like to know why you, Kliff?
Because you've become a liability.
I do not take sides, Mr. Ulysses. I simply do what I do. I think, I plan, I act, and I don't particularly care who the target is. And...it could be that the higher-ups have finally realized that if they can't figure out my master plan, the least they can do is use that pesky Chuck brain to their advantage.
And that's where you come in. See, here's the thing, Kliff...you're respected in this company. You're some sort of...EXODUS vet, whatever the fuck THAT means. But the fact of the matter is, you've been riding that train for a little too long, I think. Now...you've become a problem. But, see...wrestling is a funny business. Sure, you can put out a notice. You can get some grunt to go and beat him up, knock him around, convince him it's time to hang up the boots. But that takes time. Egos are an ugly thing. A guy like you? Come on, you're not going to go down because some punk beats you up. You're going to get even. You're going to use that to drive you forward, to keep moving.
Well...they could just straight-up fire you, right? Scrap your contract, buy it out, get you out of the company...but that's messy. That's traceable. See, there's only a handful of people with THAT happy power, and you'd know right away you got set up. Legal issues are ugly that way.
So they use Plan C. Bring in the man with no ties. No loyalties. Bring in the man who specializes in breaking people. Can't think of a way to give Kliff Ulysses the boot? Easy. Bring in someone to do the thinking for you.
Let's not kid ourselves anymore here, Kliff. Your time in the spotlight is long gone. You're riding by on this "Entertainer" act, goofing off, playing your pranks, and every now and then you step into the ring so you can pretend people still buy into this "Humanoid Typhoon" bullshit. The sad fact is, that time when you were making a name through your own talent and accomplishments is long past. No...now, you're getting by on your name alone. A popular face for the masses, and a name they can recognize.
But how long is that going to last, Kliff? How long can you prance around the ring before people realize you just aren't that good? How long can you have your riveting discussions about the finer aspects of Japanese porn and your own weird existential crisis before people realize you're not so much a deep-thinker as you are an overgrown child with low-level Asperger's?
How long will it be before Kliff Ulysses pulls his vanishing act and fades into the ether once again?
You're a liability, Kliff. You were good, once upon a time. Made a nice little name for yourself, but now? Now you cling to that legacy you created and hope it'll be enough to distract people from the painful truth: You're really fucking useless.
So here you are, against Chuck Matthews. And as much as I'm sure you think this is a glory thing, it's not. It's never about personal glory with me. Fact is, Kliff, you're not terribly important to me, and my career goes on just fine whether I beat you or not. I don't think you realize it, pal: Four months later, and I'm still virtually unknown. Ask around! Who can tell you about Chuck Matthews? Who can tell you my secrets? Big ol' fucking goose egg, buddy. Four months in, and people aren't any closer than the day they met me.
So while you continue to cling to a spotlight that burned out years ago, I continue to stay as far away from the spotlight as I can. This isn't about personal glory, Kliff. I think you realize that. This isn't about me beating some veteran so I can make a name for myself. I think if I've proven anything over the last four months, it's that my name in lights isn't very high on my list of priorities. I don't demand that people look at me. I don't care if people think I'm irrelevant. I'm not bothered if people aren't talking about me at every chance.
I am not Kliff Ulysses.
No...in a lot of ways...I'm the polar opposite. I don't seek out some monster challenge, some obstacle to overcome just to say I did it. I don't care if people look to me as the center of attention...but most importantly? I'm not clinging to a name and a face. I'm not praying that somehow, I still have what it takes to compete. I'm constantly moving. Constantly adapting. Growing. Evolving. Every match, you break down a little more. You move a little bit closer to that last Houdini act. Your final curtain. That moment where you realize you don't have what it takes and you hang it up for good. You're in the end game, my friend, and your king is just about cornered. But me?
My game's just begun."
Chicago, Illinois
July 16, 2014
A tiny window in a heavy metal hospital door. Chuck stands on one side, staring though it. On the other side, an infant lies in a glass crib, tubes running through his body, pumping blood into a large machine. Blake Michael Matthews. Born one week ago. Now, Chuck watched helplessly as Blake struggled, breathing through tubes wired through his throat and into his lungs.
Sofia was all but catatonic. For the first couple days...she was hysterical. Watching a child slowly die will do that to a mother. Now...with Blake on the machines, she'd been silent for days. She sat, either in a plastic chair in the waiting room, or a cushioned chair in the doctor's office. She stared at the floor, expressionless. Motionless. Chuck wasn't quite sure whose fate was crushing him more: His son's or his wife's.
Now, Chuck stared. Blake stretched his arms, gently kicking his feet. He turns his head towards Chuck. His face is red and tears cling to the corners of his eyes. Chuck's gut wrenches. There he was...his firstborn son. Hurting. In pain. And Chuck could do nothing but watch as his fate was decided by the cold hunk of metal in the corner of the room.
Chuck Matthews: "How did this happen?"
His voice is barely a whisper, barely audible, as though he didn't even mean the words to escape. It's been a wild week. Chuck sighs. Five years ago, "wild" was just another word. It was fun. It was a challenge. Something he could watch unfold. Life was simple then. A thousand pieces, all moving around. A million strings, playing their notes, creating their chords...harmonies...dissonance...but Chuck could see them. Chuck saw each string. He could hear each note, one lonely thread in a giant, knotted-up ball of yarn. Chuck understood how it worked. He saw the way everything coincided...co-existed. That's what he did. That's how he worked.
But this...this was new. This was different. It was a piece he didn't see coming...that he COULDN'T see coming. And that was new...and not in a good way.
"You're a smart kid. You always have been. But there are some situations even you can't see coming."
Paul's words ring through Chuck's head, and suddenly, Chuck understood. This was what he had meant. This is what Chuck wouldn't see coming...
Hospital
Chicago, Illinois
Five Days Earlier...
Chuck and Sofia sit in the doctor's office, across the desk from Blake's doctor.
Doctor: "I know this has been hard on the both-"
Sofia Sinclair: "Just tell us what's going on with our son."
The doctor stares at the two of them for a moment. He nods slowly, and takes a deep breath.
Doctor: "Listen...I wish there was an easy way to explain these things, but-"
Chuck stares coldly at the doctor.
Chuck Matthews: "Answer the woman's question."
The doctor glances at Chuck, but doesn't address Chuck's angry tone.
Doctor: "Blake suffered a critical heart failure during the delivery. Now, we've been able to keep him going, but his condition is getting worse. If we continue on his current treatment, he...we give him a day."
Chuck Matthews: "What's wrong with him?"
Chuck's voice is cold. Angry. Sofia squeezes her husband's hand. Chuck glances at her, and bows his head.
Sofia Sinclair: "There's nothing we can do?"
Doctor: "Well...that's why we called you in. We may have a solution, but we need you do understand straight-off that there are huge risks-"
Sofia Sinclair: "We'll do it."
Doctor: "Mrs. Sinclair, this is not something we feel you should jump into."
Sofia stares at him, but nods.
Sofia Sinclair: "Please...go on."
Doctor: "Now...Blake's condition means he's not getting proper oxygen supply to his blood. Without it, he'll die. That's not a risk. It will happen, and it will happen soon. Now, what we can do is put Blake on a specific life support system designed for this sort of matter. What we do is we remove Blake's bad blood and replace it with fresh, oxygenated blood. It's all done through transfusions and a gas pump that we'll pump through his system."
Chuck Matthews: "But there are risks."
Doctor: "Well...yes. You should know that we only recommend this treatment to patients who have no chance of survival otherwise. This is an absolute last resort."
Chuck Matthews: "What's the risk?"
Doctor: "We add a chemical to the blood to prevent it clotting in the machine. Now...the chemical remains when the blood returns to the body. Many patients suffer some sort of internal bleeding, and with the medicine in his system-"
Chuck Matthews: "They die."
Doctor: "Even if your son survives, Mr. Matthews, many patients suffer long term effects. Deafness, cognitive disabilities...we can't guarantee your son will have a normal, healthy life."
Sofia Sinclair: "What are his chances?"
The doctor sighs.
Doctor: "Given his condition? The best we can give him is ten percent."
Chuck Matthews: "Mortality?"
Doctor: "Survival."
Sofia chokes back a sob. Chuck clenches his teeth, but nods.
Chuck Matthews: "And you said there's no chance if we don't put him on it?"
Doctor: "There's nothing we can do. The best we can is keep him going until he fights it himself."
Chuck Matthews: "I guess we don't have much choice then."
Present Day
Chuck stands, watching. Blake continues to squirm in his crib. He reaches out...towards what, Chuck didn't want to think. Tears continue rolling down the baby's face, but no sounds come out. He can't speak. The tubes in his throat constrict any sort of sound. A nurse stands over him, checking his signs, keeping her eyes on the machines. She looks down at Blake, crying in his crib. She bites her lip sadly, and returns to work.
?: "Mr. Matthews?"
Chuck jumps at the voice. He turns to see a young man, Leo Dallas, standing behind him.
Leo Dallas: "Can we talk?"
Chuck looks at his chief of security for a moment.
Chuck Matthews: "The fuck are you doing here?"
Leo Dallas: "I apologize...but I think I've found something that you might want to see."
Chuck looks back in the room at Blake.
Chuck Matthews: "This can't wait?"
Leo Dallas: "It'll only be a moment."
Chuck clenches his teeth, groaning under his breath.
Chuck Matthews: "....yeah. Fine. Let's talk."
------------------------------------------------------
Chuck Matthews: "At Ascendency, I will have been in EXODUS for four months.
Four months, I've been busy at work. Planning. Working. Slowly moving towards my master plan.
And for four months, you have failed to stop me. Failed to slow me down. Hell...you've failed to even figure out what my plan is.
What is that you're always going on about, Kliff? 'Do people ever change?'
You know...I think we're in agreement. Sad fact of the matter is, people DON'T change. Nothing ever changes. It's the same sad old cycle. The same old shtick, week after week. The same games, the same stories, and all that changes is the cast.
So what's my game?
That seems to my favorite question, doesn't it? We all know I've got a plan, and the longer this goes on, the closer I get to completing it. But as I say, week after week, month after month...you have no idea what that plan is. And honestly...that's what makes this fun.
I'm watching as the EXODUS world runs around like a chicken with its head cut off. I'm watching as the powers that be frantically try and figure out what it is that they're doing with Chuck Matthews. What they can do to stop a plan that they don't understand. Or, maybe even better...what they can do to ensure that even if my plan DOES succeed, that they can figure a way around it.
I mean, I haven't exactly been choosy about who I associate with, have I? Haven't really been too concerned with who I piss off, either. But you know what's great about being me? You know what's awesome about my position? Where I stand in EXODUS? I can side wherever I like. It doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, everybody goes on talking about this...war, or whatever the fuck. Collins and Furor and all their merry men, duking it out for God knows what the fuck. But me? I'm an outsider. I'm not attached to anyone.
And that makes me a very valuable asset. It makes me a very useful little weapon to have in your arsenal. What EXODUS has is the greatest mind in this industry, and that mind has no ties to anyone. No loyalties. No animosities.
I'm a mercenary, ready to work for the highest bidder. Well...maybe that's a bad word. I'm not some hired thug. I'm not some meathead who will run to the ring and start hitting people...no...that's not my style. I'm a mastermind. I'm the guy you go to when you want to tear a man apart without ever laying a finger on him.
See...that's what I do. I see the pieces on the board. I see where they move, I see where they go next, and I move my own pieces accordingly. My job is to be the mastermind. My job is to think several steps ahead.
But maybe...maybe the lovely powers that be have finally realized that. Maybe they've realized exactly what a powerful entity has stumbled into their midst. Maybe they've finally seen just how dangerous Chuck Matthews can be...and how useful that brain can be if you can harness it.
Are we all on the same page? Are we all listening? Kliff?
Now...what reason might we have to put Chuck Matthews up against Kliff Ulysses? We know I do this every match. I see through these little games. These random matches. I see the reasoning. I see the gears turning behind every match. Every opponent. Would you like to know why you, Kliff?
Because you've become a liability.
I do not take sides, Mr. Ulysses. I simply do what I do. I think, I plan, I act, and I don't particularly care who the target is. And...it could be that the higher-ups have finally realized that if they can't figure out my master plan, the least they can do is use that pesky Chuck brain to their advantage.
And that's where you come in. See, here's the thing, Kliff...you're respected in this company. You're some sort of...EXODUS vet, whatever the fuck THAT means. But the fact of the matter is, you've been riding that train for a little too long, I think. Now...you've become a problem. But, see...wrestling is a funny business. Sure, you can put out a notice. You can get some grunt to go and beat him up, knock him around, convince him it's time to hang up the boots. But that takes time. Egos are an ugly thing. A guy like you? Come on, you're not going to go down because some punk beats you up. You're going to get even. You're going to use that to drive you forward, to keep moving.
Well...they could just straight-up fire you, right? Scrap your contract, buy it out, get you out of the company...but that's messy. That's traceable. See, there's only a handful of people with THAT happy power, and you'd know right away you got set up. Legal issues are ugly that way.
So they use Plan C. Bring in the man with no ties. No loyalties. Bring in the man who specializes in breaking people. Can't think of a way to give Kliff Ulysses the boot? Easy. Bring in someone to do the thinking for you.
Let's not kid ourselves anymore here, Kliff. Your time in the spotlight is long gone. You're riding by on this "Entertainer" act, goofing off, playing your pranks, and every now and then you step into the ring so you can pretend people still buy into this "Humanoid Typhoon" bullshit. The sad fact is, that time when you were making a name through your own talent and accomplishments is long past. No...now, you're getting by on your name alone. A popular face for the masses, and a name they can recognize.
But how long is that going to last, Kliff? How long can you prance around the ring before people realize you just aren't that good? How long can you have your riveting discussions about the finer aspects of Japanese porn and your own weird existential crisis before people realize you're not so much a deep-thinker as you are an overgrown child with low-level Asperger's?
How long will it be before Kliff Ulysses pulls his vanishing act and fades into the ether once again?
You're a liability, Kliff. You were good, once upon a time. Made a nice little name for yourself, but now? Now you cling to that legacy you created and hope it'll be enough to distract people from the painful truth: You're really fucking useless.
So here you are, against Chuck Matthews. And as much as I'm sure you think this is a glory thing, it's not. It's never about personal glory with me. Fact is, Kliff, you're not terribly important to me, and my career goes on just fine whether I beat you or not. I don't think you realize it, pal: Four months later, and I'm still virtually unknown. Ask around! Who can tell you about Chuck Matthews? Who can tell you my secrets? Big ol' fucking goose egg, buddy. Four months in, and people aren't any closer than the day they met me.
So while you continue to cling to a spotlight that burned out years ago, I continue to stay as far away from the spotlight as I can. This isn't about personal glory, Kliff. I think you realize that. This isn't about me beating some veteran so I can make a name for myself. I think if I've proven anything over the last four months, it's that my name in lights isn't very high on my list of priorities. I don't demand that people look at me. I don't care if people think I'm irrelevant. I'm not bothered if people aren't talking about me at every chance.
I am not Kliff Ulysses.
No...in a lot of ways...I'm the polar opposite. I don't seek out some monster challenge, some obstacle to overcome just to say I did it. I don't care if people look to me as the center of attention...but most importantly? I'm not clinging to a name and a face. I'm not praying that somehow, I still have what it takes to compete. I'm constantly moving. Constantly adapting. Growing. Evolving. Every match, you break down a little more. You move a little bit closer to that last Houdini act. Your final curtain. That moment where you realize you don't have what it takes and you hang it up for good. You're in the end game, my friend, and your king is just about cornered. But me?
My game's just begun."