Staring At The Sun (Unsanctioned)

The deserted parking lot was cold, and steam emitted from his mouth. The lighting was dim, and the vast array of cars was a marvellous display of the very best. Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Mercedes and many more big names were all there. The suited figure lit a Marlboro cigarette as he patiently waited. He checked his wristwatch as he noticed another figure nearby, shrouded in shadow. Andreas Lasiewicz let a sinister grin grow upon his face.

Lasiewicz: “Just can’t let it go, can you?”

The figure was stood by a glistening Harley Davidson motorcycle, his face obscured by a black Cowboy hat.

Lasiewicz: “Don’t you realise that this is over? Don’t you realise that your attempts of ‘revenge’ are done? You are done. It is over.”

Out of the shadows stepped “The Renegade” Jason Redfield, decked out entirely in black. He lifted his head, his body quivering with rage. Andreas simply flicked his cigarette into the distance, small embers flying off it and drifting down to the ground. He took several steps towards him, cracking his knuckles as he did so.

Lasiewicz: “You couldn’t get the job done, Sinner. You could not defeat me… Now step aside and walk away—or you will suffer the same fate as you did in Toronto…”

Redfield: “Morning Star… You took something from me, you son of a bitch… Now it’s time I took something from you…”

Andreas laughed slightly at this comment, ignoring Redfield’s cryptic warning. He turned his head suddenly, a bright light flying towards him as his face grew pale in shock and confusion as the screech of tires echoed in the parking lot. He was hurled against the grey stone wall from the force of the collision, his back smashing into it as rubble crumbled off the walls. The dark car, a black BMW M3 Convertible reversed slowly after it had done it’s damage. Andreas was out like a light, blood seeping from the back of his head as he lay motionless on the floor. Jason laughed heartily.

Redfield: “Good boy …”

Behind the wheel of the car, clad in a grey hoodie was a handsome figure with a glazed look in his eyes. His hair was long and blonde, roughly tied up with a bobble. He stepped out of the car and stood before the cowboy, an emotionless yet intense look upon his face. Redfield patted the blonde on the back.

Redfield: “Now it is your time to step out from his shadow… Isaac Bongartz…”

I'm not the only one,
Staring at the sun.
Afraid of what you'd find
If you took a look inside
I'm not just deaf and dumb
Staring at the sun
Not the only one
Who'd rather go blind

It hurt. Everything hurt. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. It was difficult to put into words. How would one describes it. Being run over by a car is easy to describe. But the driver being your protégé, the man you plucked up off of the streets and gave a home to was more difficult. The man you trained from being a teenager, watching him learn step by step and blossoming into a grown man, only for him to slam it back in your face with the front of a BMW. With no prior warning, not a single inclination, then seeing said protégé ally with your worst enemy. The emotions are undoubtedly hard to describe.

Andreas Lasiewicz had been unconscious for two days after this incident, though it didn’t seem like it. When he finally opened his eyes it was like he had simply blinked and found himself somewhere else. A ward, in a hospital bed surrounded by Russian doctors whittling on in a foreign tone that Andreas’ struggled to follow upon waking up.

Or should that be reawakening?

There's an insect in your ear
If you scratch it won't disappear
It's gonna itch and burn and sting
You want to see what the scratching brings
Waves that leave me out of reach
Breaking on your back like a beach
Will we ever live in peace?

It was a blur, but he remembered unleashing something that he purposely laid dormant. Something more powerful and malicious than any could possibly imagine. Something that had not been seen since Wrestlecade. That something that had given him the nickname “Morning Star”. They didn’t deserve it, those doctors and nurses had done nothing wrong. But he had to get out. He had to retrace his steps. He had to find that treacherous culprit Isaac Bongartz. Bodies flew, blood was spilled, bones were broken, but he was free. The last thing he remembered before smashing his way through the window to escape was seeing his beloved Kayla peer through the glass door in pale horror at what she was witnessing. He could not control it.

He didn’t want to control it.

Not anymore.

'Cause those that can't do
Often have to
And those that can't do
Often have to preach

To the ones
Staring at the sun
Afraid of what you'd find
If you took a look inside
Not just deaf and dumb
I'm staring at the sun
I'm not the only one
Who'd rather go blind

Escaping the hospital was easy. Tracking back to gather his gear was easier and Isaac had left a mammoth amount of evidence clumsily about to alert Andreas to his whereabouts. He hurt. Hurt so much but the adrenaline that was constantly pumping through his every being spurred him on. Getting out of Russia was difficult. Getting through British customs was harder still, considering what had happened in the hospital. But this was coming from a man who had slid off the radar for six and a half years. A man who had set the world alight in places such as the Revolution Entertainment Company, the American Wrestling Alliance and mostly, the Global Division of Wrestling. A man who has held TEN World Heavyweight Championships, had been inducted into THREE Halls of Fame, had successfully run one of the biggest companies in the industry. Men like that don’t simply disappear into the shadows. Men like that don’t vanish without a trace. Someone will always find you, someone will always be there to snap a picture, ask a question, spread the word.

But still, after all these years, people underestimated exactly what Andreas Lasiewicz was capable of. They never truly understood him. He ALWAYS found a way.

He had tracked Isaac to England, before finding enough evidence to know that he had returned home to Miami to be with his pregnant lover, Alessandra Reynolds. But Andreas knew that he would soon be flying out again to Dublin for the next GDW show, so he would bide his time here for now. As chance would have it, it was fastly approaching the weekend of Unsanctioned, a massive two day festival of wrestling, the brainchild of former MWA World Champion CJ Osborne. With the aid of one of Lasiewicz current places of work, FRONTIER, they had amassed one of the largest and most versatile pools of talent in the business.

Intransigence is all around
Military still in town
Armour plated suits and ties
Daddy just won't say goodbye
Referee won't blow the whistle
God is good but will He listen
I'm nearly great
But there's something missing

I left it in the duty free yeah
But you never really belonged to me

And thus he found himself here, in one of the disused sky boxes. The tables were overturned, blocking the exit. On one set of tables, a large conference table made of polished oak rested several lit up television screens showing various matches from a particular set of opponents. The lights in the room were dimmed, just like the view through the glass at the arena below. It would seem that the ring had already been set up, as were all the seating for the fans though the stage was only partially built. All the staff had already left for the day, symbolising it was quite late at night and Andreas Lasiewicz seemed very comfortable with this. No press, no photos, no questions, no problems. Just peace, somewhere to rest, somewhere to focus.

“By the time you receive this, I will have been long gone from this room. My preparations will have already been completed, my game plan will already be in motion and you will not be able to stop me. There will be zero point tracing back to this very room to see how I did it, to search for a clue on why I was so dominant during this Unsanctioned event. Not a trace. But is there a secret? Is there something special I am doing in preparation for this match? Or am I simply getting ready in my usual way? Do I usually lock myself away from the world when I train both mentally and physically? Or am I taking a different approach? Who knows? Who cares? You do… Oh yes you do…”

“No matter how you look upon this, you can simply look upon my record to see how dominant I truly am. Not just over my whole career were I have gained ten World title reigns, one lastly a whole YEAR. Not just my accomplishments winning Grand Slams. Not just my Hall of Fame entries. Because I know how other wrestlers think. ‘That was in the past, Andreas.’ ‘That was another time, another place.’ But is it? Is it really? You see, since my return in August 2012 I have only lost 3 matches. 3 matches in what? Fifty? Sixty? Seventy? And how many of those losses was clean? One. One real loss in all that time. One loss to Jay Pride. Not at my best, probably at his. But a loss. I’m man enough to admit to that and one day Jay Pride better be ready for that rematch…”

Lasiewicz wandered over from a makeshift bed he had made on the floor to view the many TV screens. Upon them was the matches of his opponents at Unsanctioned, matches he was studying closely. His curls were swept back, his facial hair slightly more unkempt than usual and his navy tailor made suit was a little creased and dusty.

“But I skip ahead of myself… I have a tendency to do that. You may know. You may not. You should do. I’ll drill it into you…Heh… The truth of it all is my record is still being added to. Victory after victory, W after W, all of them piling up to create one gigantic mountain of glory that I sit at the top of—looking down on all of you unfortunate souls below me. It’s such a shame for you, knowing that no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, when you finally reach the summit you will be simply kicked right of the top and will plummet down to the ground, crashing into the bitter and broken skulls that have amassed there—the skulls of all those that have tried before. What? Is that too dark for you? Is that not family friendly? Is that not PG-13? No… It isn’t, now go fuck yourself!”

“When I first heard about Unsanctioned, there were many names thrown about. Some of them unknown, but some… a select few… Are worldwide names, competitors that I have never had to chance to tag or team with in my long storied career. Names like MWA Legend ‘The Ebony Destroyer’ Steve Pinex. Multi time World Champions like Kacy Knight and Lito Kruz… Yeah I said their names in the same sentence, that will get a reaction. But no… The booking committee decided against me facing or even teaming with any of those… Or how about people I respect in this industry? Like Pat Gordon Jr., my old ReC team mate and loyal friend LJ Black, my adopted sister Katherine Grayson, new EXODUS signee Tim Worthington or even the three time MWA Champion Brad Jackson—A man I’ll admit I’ve always wanted to face. No… CJ Osborne decided that was not for Andreas Lasiewicz. Or maybe, just maybe he wished to book me in a match with some of the new blood in wrestling like my ally in EXODUS, Sylar Drake. Or maybe social media sensations Freya Kane and Wayne Carruthers. Nope… Not them either. How about pitting me against people I love tearing asunder like Jason Talbot or Kevin ‘Fuckme—I’m gonna lose my job…. AGAIN’ Hardaway… No, that wasn’t for ‘The Polish Spirit’. Hell… If he REALLY wanted a bloodbath he would have given me a match with Brittany Lohan. Now that WOULD be interesting. But no, it seems he wants a nice clean family fun show to sell on PPV. Let’s see what his sponsors think when I drop an F-Bomb as soon as I step out to the ring…”

Andreas lets out a sinister laugh as he pulls out a crumpled cigarette from his pant pocket and lights it with a silver plated zippo with the image of an eagle engraved upon it.

“Instead he books me in a six man tag elimination match. Now I competed in a similar match under the guise of ‘Reno’ recently in EXODUS. Yeah, you may have heard that I had showed up there. Showing up alongside Sally Talfourd, Sylar Drake and the man known as WEAPON… The group known as The Turks. Seems we cause quite a stir in the short time we have been there, showing up in defence of EXODUS against the group known as LEGION. And what a deathblow I commited during my first match, the afore mentioned elimination match. In the first MINUTE of in-ring action… I not only eliminated the woman that many viewed as being the next E-Pro World Champion—the woman known as Lexie Bonds. I not only eliminated her, but I ended her fucking career. Think about that for a second. One minute… And one of the top ranked stars in wrestling today had to RETIRE. No illegal holds. No weapons. No cheating. Just my bare hands…”

“Now the reason we came to EXODUS was to defend it, in the name of their fallen idol and my close friend Jonathan Collins. Now it is well known that Collins—a SIX time World Champion was put into a coma by the hands of a cowardly attack by LEGION. There is a lot of speculation whether or not he is out of that coma. There is a lot of speculation whether or not he will be at Unsanctioned. Yes… yes he is one of my tag team partners in this match. And a VERY good choice from CJ Osborne, makes a fucking change doesn’t it… But I will stand by my word. I would rather have a card board cut-out of the man in my corner than not have him there at all. Isn’t that right?”

“But I do warn you, that if he IS in attendance… The Saint of Violence gives no mercy. And he will have been itching to cause some havoc. As has my daughter Jessica. Not only is she my daughter, but her mother is Angelica Jones—the woman who set the standard for all female wrestlers to follow. Now not only does my daughter take after me, not only does she take after her mother… But she is writing her own legacy, earning her own titles, writing her own name in history. And I have tagged with her in more matches than you can believe… We are like a well-oiled machine that is ready to roll right through you… But who are you? Who are these well-known and celebrated opponents that we are set to face in CJ Osborne’s great show case?”

His tone of voice was deep and dark, sinister and angry, malicious and hateful. But not as much as his eyes, both pupils burning a deadly golden inferno as a Cheshire Cat grin appeared on his face.

“Two ice cream cones and a white bearded paedophile… At first I thought it was a joke, a prank, a jest. But no… No it would seem that the almighty booker CJ Osborne is taking a leaf out of the FRONTIER management playbook and booking Andreas Lasiewicz in the most pointless matches imaginable.”

“Now don’t get me wrong, I know they have accomplishments. I’ve heard them all. Tim Sullinger and Ricky Coleman, two reasonable amateur wrestlers who couldn’t accomplish anything on their own names so they decided to become a gimmick, a brand, a comedy pairing. And now they dress up as fucking ice cream cones in an attempt to get a lick of success under the guise of Any Given Sundae. Talented? Yeah, they may have a little. They did get to a recent tag team tournament final, facing Jimmy Riley and Fiona Rourke. They of course lost; against a team of that calibre I’m not surprised. And this Sunday at the O2 arena they face a team that is stronger, faster, more accomplished and more dominant than them… Even WITH a cardboard cut-out! In fact, I’m more than willing to knock that damn cherry of your head ‘El Hijo del Ice Cream’ with the cut-out and laugh as ‘Ice Cream Jnr’ looks on, unable to take the heat and witnesses his own cone head melt in fear at what he has just witnessed. Seriously guys, the kids might love your little act but it isn’t going to get any sympathy or laughs from me. I’m here on serious business, and if you wanna be a bigger joke than Prince Kamijo being a World Champion… Then you are going to end up in a serious world of pain.”

He breathed the thick haze of smoke into the air like a dragon breathing fire at the camera, his gaze never wavering.

“And finally their tag partner, a man so unoriginal he has to pretend to be someone else, a man so creepy he dresses like a famous figure so people will sit on his knee, a man so fat he may have to be lifted into the ring. A man who drinks so much his cheeks are permanently red, a man who claims to know exactly what all of your children are doing, a man who is in dire need of psychiatric help. This is a man that is impersonating a figure that in history broke into a man’s house to show his three daughters with gifts before they set out to work as prostitutes. Yes, I am talking about the Santa Claus impersonator. I’m not even gonna give you a name, seeing that you can’t even remember your own. I don’t care if you weigh five hundred pounds, I don’t care if you somehow managed to trick your way into gaining a title, I don’t care whether your beard is real, fake or even made out of a goat you once fucked. You are an embarrassment to the industry, this business, this SPORT and I am going to beat the unholy hell out of you. I don’t care whether you have been naughty or nice, I don’t care if someone caught their ‘Mommy’ kissing you after who paid them for that favour, I’m going to shove that bag of coal you carry around straight down your throat, you fat fuck! Because you aint carrying any Christmas cheer, you are merely trying to carry this once great sport down into the depths of mediocrity and I will not let that happen. So expect your Coca Cola endorsement to be smashed over your head come Sunday night. Because your sleigh is going to crash and burn!”

Andreas switched off the TV screens one by one as he spoke. He turned to the camera one last time before signing off.

“You picked the wrong night to step up against one of the Godfather’s of Wrestling. Expect a GoW clean sweep come Unsanctioned. It starts with you three; it ends in K-Hard. Mark my words… And Isaac… Watch closely—this is what is going to happen to you…”

You're not the only one
Staring at the sun
Afraid of what you'd find
You step back inside
Not sucking on my thumb
I'm staring at the sun
I'm not the only one
Who'd rather go blind