Taking Hold of the Flame Battle Royal

[Owen]

Diary Entry - 4th of June 2021

BOOM!!!

Take that you disrespectful bitch

Infamous…LOL

5th June 2021

Los Angeles

Everything since that day seemed to have gone by in a blur. He knew he’d been at Breakdown, and he knew that he competed against Christy Matthews, but he wasn’t ‘there’ He wanted to ask the questions of people that should have been in the know, but the fact was he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. This news had knocked him for six, at a time when many would say he was at his most weak. And now, more than ever before he needed someone to talk to but had no one to which he could turn. Until out of the blue he received a text. Out of everyone, Taylor had remained quiet on the whole situation. She had been out the country for a while visiting family, and other than a few texts, Owen hadn’t had any contact with her until just before Breakdown, requesting that he comes to see her so that they could ‘catch up’. Owen knew that it wouldn’t be that simple, and if she had something to say to him, she would have very little problem saying it. And as he pulls up to the house, he cannot help feeling a hint of trepidation, but taking a breath he steps out the car and walks up to the door. It opens before he even has chance to knock, Sebastian running out and Owen scooping him up in his arms. Taylor then steps out, nodding over at the car Owen has arrived in.

Taylor: New car?

Owen: Yeah, fancied a change.

Taylor: What did you do with the Mini I bought you?

Owen: Still got it… just wanted something a bit more ‘grown-up’.

Taylor: Mercedes?

Owen: Yeah, GLB

Taylor: It’s nice… 

She turns away, Owen puffing out his cheeks and making Seb laugh, before placing him back down on the floor and walking inside.

Owen: So, how you been?

Taylor: Good… always nice to get away from it for a while. You?

She narrows her eyes as she says it, Owen realizing straight away where this was leading. 

Owen: Yeah, not bad… been some fun days. Some, not so great…

He was referring to the birth certificate of course, but Taylor wasn’t aware of that.

Taylor: I’ve been hearing…

Again, she says it with an edge in her voice, and motions through to the garden.

Taylor: Let’s sit out in the garden.

It wasn’t a request, and Owen follows, taking a seat on one of the benches, Taylor sitting opposite him, as Sebastian plays. Owen tries to steal a march, and speaks first, instantly regretting his decision.

Owen: Look Mom…

Taylor holds up a single hand.

Taylor: I suggest you sit there, and you listen Owen. And you listen very carefully to what I have to say.

Owen visibly gulps, Taylor however remaining stoic, and showing very little emotion at all, even smiling at Sebastian, before turning back to Owen.

Taylor: I’ve been listening to you some of the things you have been saying lately, and honestly Owen, I have had to bite my tongue on more than one occasion. If it hadn’t had been for the Twitter Trolls waiting for me to comment, then I probably wouldn’t have been able to help myself. Looks, I get it Owen, I get how frustrated you are, and I more than anyone realize the ‘faults’ that the Drachawych family has, but… and I don’t say this lightly, the way you are acting right now, Orlando would be ashamed of you.

Owen lowers his eyes, breaking contact with Taylor, Taylor however continuing.

Taylor: Look at me please Owen.

Owen slowly raises his eyes to meet hers

Taylor: And you know that don’t you?

If this had been Kloe, Owen would have no doubt have reacted, and told her how wrong she was. Hearing this from Taylor however, whether he wanted to admit it or not, it had more impact.

Taylor: Your silence on the matter tells me everything I need to know.

She reaches over and picks up a jug, pouring herself a glass of water, but not offering Owen one. She takes a sip, before then continuing.

Taylor: Owen, I’m not going to sit here and preach on the rights and wrongs of what you have done. Let’s face it, it’s not like I, or even your Father were and pure as driven snow. We both had a problem with authority, whether it be IWC, SCW or anywhere else for that matter. But we never lost sight of what is truly important… family.

She sighs.

Taylor: There have been times when I’ve wanted to kill Shaun… seriously. I’ve hated that man, I really have. But there is no question that he has always been there for you since your Father died. He’s always been a shoulder to you, and the disrespect you showed him, there isn’t a chance I can just let that slide. It was disrespectful Owen, disrespect towards someone who has always had the best of intentions towards you, no matter what you might think right now. See, I don’t care who you agree with, or whose opinions you take as gospel, because yes although he is a dick, there is some of what he says that makes sense. But laying Shaun out in front of people who has literally turned up that night to see the Impact Player… I just want you to know that doesn’t sit well with me. And it certainly wouldn’t sit well with Orlando.

Taylor sits back in the chair, as Owen looks out to the left, watching Sebastian. Imagining for the first time the betrayal that Shaun must have felt, realizing how he’d feel if Sebastian did the same to him one day. Then remembering what he had learned which would make all this irrelevant. He hadn’t meant to bring this up, he wanted to be sure before he did, but it just happens.

Owen: Yeah? Well, maybe I don’t have to worry about his opinion.

For a moment, Taylor nearly breaks into a rage. Orlando was the one man who she had truly loved, and he loved her back in equal measures. Disrespecting Shaun was one thing, but then to do the same to Orlando’s memory she wasn’t going to stand for that. But then she sees his face. There is no anger, just hurt and misery.

Taylor: Is there something you’re not telling me?

Owen looks down at his feet.

Taylor: Owen?

Owen reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, unfolding the piece of paper he had found at the house and passing it to Taylor. Taylor unfolds it, her eyes scanning the paper, her eyes then widening. Owen rubs his eyes, as if someone else seeing this made it more real. Taylor scans the document again, passing it back to Owen.

Taylor: This can’t be right, there must be some mistake. There’s no way.

Owen: I don’t know, I found it amongst some old photographs of Mom’s.

Taylor: And you’ve checked this is real?

Owen: Why wouldn’t it be? And if it isn’t, why would she keep it?

Taylor holds up his hands in front of her fact, her fingers steepled.

Owen: What do I do Mom? Do I just forget I ever saw it? Carry on as if nothing happened? 

Taylor shakes her head.

Taylor: No Owen, you’ve got to confront her. 

Owen: And what if I don’t want to hear the truth.

Taylor reaches forwards, cupping his hands in hers.

Taylor: No matter what Owen, I made a promise to Orlando and I’ll get you through this. But you can’t brush this under the carpet, you just can’t. It’s going to be tough, but you HAVE to know the truth. No matter what it may be.

Owen nods his head, knowing she was right of course. He had to know the truth, and he deserved to know it, no question. But deep down in the pit of his stomach he already knew the answer, and although Owen feared very little, the would-be ‘truth’ petrified him. Because it was a potential truth, he wasn’t sure he could come back from.

8th June 2021

Newquay

Arriving back home and ready to have it out with Kloe, Owen had been disappointed to find that she was in New York, finalizing the sale of the company and with-it O-Cru. However, his new housekeeper Harriet was there to meet him when he arrived and seemed nice. She was also good with dogs apparently, and had made a friend out of Virgil, his Border Collie puppy. After a few questions, for his own piece of mind, he had gone upstairs and showered, texting Dani just prior. Dani was an old primary school girlfriend who had gotten back in touch, Owen now glad of the distraction. And the ’date’ had gone pretty well. There had been no awkward silences, and a lot of laughter which had helped Owen to take his mind off things. And now walking home, the laughter had continued as they reminisced about their early years.

Dani: Can you remember when that teacher threw something at you, and you ducked, and it hit James in the face?

Owen: Actually, yeah I can, just got out the way in time… think I called him Man boobs Mahoney or something like that. I didn’t even know what man boobs were.

Dani: I saw James a few weeks back when he came back to see his Mum and Dad. He’s a Chartered Accountant and works in London.

Owen: Not surprised, he was the cleverest kid in class. Though not clever enough to duck.

They turn onto Owen’s street, Dani able to reach her house via the beach pathway across the back. He half thought she’d go street home, but they were having such a laugh neither of them wanted the afternoon to end.

Dani: So, is this it now? You back here for good?

Owen: I think so yeah, I mean you never know what the future holds but at least for now I’m sticking around. Got a lot of plans for the house, so certainly going to be around to oversee that. Anything else, who knows?

Dani: I’m glad, it’s been nice catching up with you, you haven’t changed a bit.

Owen: Really?

Dani: Really… 

Owen shrugs, not sure what to say. He felt that he had changed a lot in the last few years, had grown up way before his time, and had to deal with things that no one of his age should have to deal with. Especially recently, with all that had happened, Owen had conceded that it was inevitable, but here Dani was… saying that he was the exact same person that had left Newquay many years ago. Someone that hadn’t seen him for years still believed him, whereas others that knew him probably better couldn’t. They reach the driveway to the house, Owen turning to Dani.

Owen: Do you want to come inside for a coffee or something?

Dani: ‘Coffee’ huh?

She raises her eyebrows with a smile.

Owen: Oh… no, not that. No.

Dani chuckles to herself

Owen: I honestly meant coffee, talk a little more. Wasn’t intending on…

Dani: Oh right, not attractive enough for you huh?

Owen: No, I didn’t mean… you’re joking, aren’t you?

Dani: Yes Owen, I’d love a coffee. And you can show me what you are going to do with this place.

Owen: Sure…

Dani follows Owen down the driveway, past the car parked up.

Dani: This your car?

Owen quickly shakes his head.

Owen: Nah, it’s a rental until I can get mine shipped over. Works out cheaper if you buy them in the states. Just bought a Mercedes… you’ll have to come for a drive sometime?

Dani: A Mercedes huh? Flash.

Owen: Well, what with selling O-Cru, thought I may as well treat myself.

He opens the front door.

Owen: After you

Dani steps into the house, looking around.

Dani: It’s hardly changed.

Owen: Yeah, I know… going to update all of this. Thought one of the tenants may do it but they never did. I know it’s Newquay, but I want to give the place a new modern look.

Dani follows Owen into the kitchen, where he flicks the switch on the kettle.

Dani: Kloe not around?

Owen: No, she’s on a business trip, back tomorrow.

Dani: So, the house to ourselves huh?

Owen smiles, till someone speaks from the door

“Mr. Cruze, let me make those for you.”

The housekeeper Harriet walks into the room, smiling a hello towards Dani.

Owen: Sure thing… Dani, this is my housekeeper Harriet. 

Dani: Housekeeper? Can’t even be bothered to clean up after yourself huh?

Owen catches Harriet chuckling as she finishes off the drinks, placing one of them in front of Dani and passing the other to Owen.

Owen: No, it’s nothing like that. It’s not fair on Mom, and what with me having the dog now, I need someone living in to take care of him as well as I don’t want him being alone all the time. 

Owen looks around and scowls.

Owen: Where is Virgil by the way Harriet, he upstairs?

Harriet: No, was in the garden chasing birds just a moment ago.

Owen gets to his feet and looks outside, at first not sure what he is seeing, and then running outside into the garden. He quickly grabs a hold of Virgil who is hanging by his neck from a tree. Harriet comes outside and screams, Dani holding her hands to her face.

Owen: GET ME A KNIFE!!!

Harriet runs back inside and come back with a huge kitchen knife, Owen taking it and cutting at the rope which holding Virgil in the other hand. After what seems like an eternity, the rope finally comes apart, Owen dropping to the floor holding Virgil in his arms, looking up at Harriet.

Owen: What the fuck Harriet?

Harriet: I swear I only left him for a few moments, couple of minutes at most.

Dani: Is he ok?

Owen: I think so, I’m going to take him to the vets to make sure.

Harriet: I’ll come with you.

Owen: NO!!!

Owen realizes the tone of his voice and takes a deep breath.

Owen: Sorry, I’d rather go alone… can you ring the police please?

Harriet nods, tears forming in her eyes.

Harriet: I’m so sorry Owen, I…

Owen cradles the puppy’s head in his arms, stroking the dogs nose. 

Owen: I know.

He gets to his feet and turns to Dani.

Owen: Sorry, gonna have to take a raincheck on that coffee.

Dani: Of course, let me know what they say.

Owen walks out the back gate without saying another word, and places Virgil in the crate in the back of his car.

Owen: You’re going to be ok Virg.

He then gets in the driver’s side, placing his hands on the steering wheel and watching them, aware that he is shaking. He thoughts turn to who could do something like this to a poor defenseless puppy. Who would do something like that, knowing that you were probably going to murder an animal? His eyes narrow as his hands stop shaking and then tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white as the blood cannot circulate properly. His breathing almost stops, as he looks directly ahead.

Owen: Maisie…

Diary Entry – 8th June 2021

Thank God Virg is going to be ok.

Vet gave him a good check over and apart from some bruising there shouldn’t be any adverse effects. They did however say that he was lucky… as much longer there could have been more serious damage or even worse death. It was lucky I had looked when I did, or it would have been too late.

Mentioned Maisie to the Police when they had eventually called around, and they said they would investigate it. I know it’s her. Who else could it be? She’d better stay out my way. I’ve enough on my plate without this escalating any further.

Part of me wants to get Shaun involved, but I can’t do that. Not now. Can imagine how patronizing that conversation would be.

No, if I see her again, I’ll deal with it, and make it clear she should stay away.

And if she touches my dog again… I don’t know what I’ll do. 

9th June 2021

Newquay

It had been a long flight home for Kloe, and as she arrives back at Owen’s house in Newquay, there was nothing more she was looking forwards to than getting into a hot bubble bath. As the taxi drops her off, and she walks towards the house she is surprised to see it in total darkness. She then looks at her watch which reads ‘2215’ and pulls a face, guessing it was no real surprise that everyone would be in bed. She had thought Owen might have stopped up to wait for her though, but it wasn’t that big a deal. She places her key in the door and opens it wide, dragging her case inside and then shutting the door. She then opens the door to the living room and turns on the light, jumping with a start as she sees Owen sitting on the sofa, staring directly at her.

Kloe: OWEN!!! For God’s sake you scared me.

Owen: Sorry… my bad.

Kloe scowls, feeling that there was something off with him.

Kloe: Everything OK? Anything happened while I was gone?

Owen scoffs

Owen: Yeah, you could say that.

Kloe: OK, well let me just jump in the bath and you can tell me all about it over a glass of wine. What do you say?

Owen: Sure, what’s another half-hour?

Kloe gets to her feet, still scowling, recognizing the hint of sarcasm in Owen’s voice.

Kloe: You sure you’re OK?

Owen: I’m fine.

Kloe walks out the room and upstairs, and although the bath was everything she wanted, she couldn’t help but think about Owen, and that something was wrong. What was supposed to be a long, luxurious bath turns into nothing more than a quick dip in the water, Owen’s attitude never far from the forefront of her thoughts. After drying herself she puts on her nightclothes and a dressing gown, and walks back down and into the living room, Owen looking like he hadn’t even moved.

Kloe: I’ll just get the wine, you want one?

Owen shakes his head without even looking at her. Outwardly, he seems quite calm but inside his stomach was doing cartwheels. Kloe returns with a bottle in her hand and a single glass.

Kloe: You sure?

Owen nods, and watches as Kloe pours herself a drink, and takes a sip, savoring the taste. She then leans back into the chair and crosses her legs.

Kloe: So, what’s been going on?

Owen pauses, leaning forwards and clasping his hands in front of him.

Owen: Well, the housekeeper’s negligence almost killed my dog. How’s that for a starter?

Kloe: What… how?

Owen: She left him in the back garden on his own so that he could get strung up on a tree by some psycho stalker bitch.

Kloe: I don’t understand what you mean?

Owen: I mean, it’s pretty clear… she wasn’t watching him and someone came into our garden and hung Virgil from the tree. If I hadn’t come back when I did, he’d be dead.

Kloe: But who would do such a thing? I mean ok, she shouldn’t have left him, but who does something like that to a puppy.

Owen: Like I said, a psycho stalker bitch called Maisie.

Kloe: Maisie? Who the hell is Maisie?

Owen: Oh, you remember her. The girl who pushed Yvonne Knight down a flight of stairs. Then went onto stab Pixie in the stomach while she was pregnant. The girl who my Uncle Shaun just can’t stop playing hero towards.

Kloe: Maisie who Shaun was in a relationship with?

Owen: One and the same

Kloe: But hold on… what’s she got against you?

Owen: This is where it gets good Mom, because it seems like Maisie has taken a shine to some younger Cruze meat these days. And she apparently doesn’t accept ‘fuck off’ as an answer.

Kloe: So, Maisie did this… I’m assuming you called the police.

Owen: Yep, and they are looking into it… much good as that will do.

Kloe: But why didn’t you tell me about this? 

Owen gives a wry smile; he could have almost predicted that was precisely what she would say.

Owen: Yeah, maybe I should have. Perhaps then you’d have stayed around instead of chasing the almighty dollar and my dog may have not been hung from a tree. No matter, Virg is ok… but yeah. I’m sorry for keeping Maisie a secret, I just didn’t want the world to know I was being chased by an overexcited MILF. 

She wasn’t a Mom, but Owen wasn’t too bothered about the details.

Owen: But you are right, secrets are never good… are they Mom?

Kloe looks over the rim of her glass as she takes another sip. Owen was being strange, and his tone was almost sinister. Like he was moments away from losing it.

Kloe: Look Owen, I don’t know what’s wrong, but I can’t help unless you tell me. It’s all well and good you wanting to do things for yourself, but sometimes it helps to get another person’s perspective. 

Owen: Is that right?

Kloe: Yes, whatever it is, we can work through together. I promise.

Owen: OK, let’s see, shall we?

Owen reaches into his back pocket and takes out a piece of paper and unfolds it. He then slides it across the table towards his Mother.

Owen: Tell me, what’s your perspective on this?

At first Kloe doesn’t realize what it is she is being shown, not having her glasses on. She reaches, and picks it up, her eyes widening as she realizes what it is. Her heart drops, her eyes deflect to Owen who hasn’t taking his eyes off her, the look now burned onto his face unmistakable to that of pure hate.

Owen: That IS my birth certificate, right? 

Kloe closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip, backed into a corner he didn’t know what to say. 

Owen: And that section right there, right before the box containing your name. What does it say there Mom? What does it say in the section confirming my Father?

Tears fill Kloe’s eyes, and she quickly tries to wipe them away.

Kloe: Please Owen…

Owen: Right there, where it SHOULD say Orlando Cruze… what does it say?

Kloe closes her eyes, the tears now falling freely, her chest feeling like it is about to burst.

Owen: FINN Cruze Mom, it says FINN Cruze is my fucking Father, the guy who blew his fucking brains out in front of me. You want to help me with a different perspective Mom, Go ahead. Tell me Mom… what’s your perspective on my life being one, massive, lie?

Kloe continues to cry, but Owen really doesn’t care in this moment. His breathing is erratic, his shoulders rising and falling. 

Owen: Come on then, this is where you tell me the hospital made a mistake, someone was dyslexic or something? Maybe it shouldn’t be my name at the top… or this is just some elaborate joke? But it isn’t, is it Mom? This isn’t a joke; I was never supposed to see this was I? This is the truth isn’t it?

Kloe keeps her head lowered.

Owen: ISN’T IT?

Kloe slowly lifts her head, her reddened cheeks covered in tears. She looks directly at Owen who this time more quietly, more calmly asks her again.

Owen: Finn Cruze was my Dad, my REAL Dad, wasn’t he?

Kloe slowly nods her head, all the energy leaving Owen’s body as the adrenaline that was pumping abruptly stops. Now Owen lowers his head and closes his eyes, now having it confirmed, making it even more impossible to bear.

Owen: Fuck…

Owen gets to his feet, and although his equilibrium is off, he makes his way over to a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniels. He never usually touched the stuff, but right now it seemed kind of ironic it being Orlando’s favorite drink. He pours himself a small measure, hesitates, and then pours in some more, a single measure never enough, or at least that’s what Orlando had told him. He wanted to be angry, but more than that, he wanted to know everything and flying off the handle now wouldn’t achieve anything. Knowing his Mom’s eyes are burning into the back of his head he makes his way back to the sofa and slumps down into it.

Kloe: Say something Owen…

Owen: OK, are you really my Mom?

Kloe: Yes, of course I am.

Owen: Thought I’d better ask; you never can be too sure it seems. Mom, if we are going to find a way out of this, I need to know the truth. Everything.

Kloe: Owen, Orlando was your Father, a piece of paper means nothing.

Owen: No, you’re wrong… it means everything. And if you can’t tell me the truth, then I walk out that door and you never see me again.

Kloe: Please…

Owen: I mean it Mom. The truth. Or I’m gone.

Kloe sighs deeply and places her glass on a coaster. Owen waits impatiently, as Kloe composes herself to tell a story she hoped that she would never have to. Something that she had buried for many years and knew it would tear her family apart. 

Kloe: When your Father…

Owen: Hold on, which one are we talking about?

Kloe: When your FATHER and I met, Orlando was just starting to become a huge deal in the wrestling business. As such, he was always travelling the world… and only very rarely did I go with him. His brother, Finn was always hanging around, and although I didn’t like his attitude, he was very charming towards women. One night, whilst your Father was on tour, he came round and…

Owen: You couldn’t keep your legs shut?

Kloe: Owen, I know you’re angry now, but I am still your Mother.

Owen stares at her defiantly but allows her to continue.

Kloe: You’re right, I should have done better, I shouldn’t have fallen for his charms, but I did. And next thing I knew, I was pregnant. Now, I know what your thinking, how did I know it was Finns? I did a DNA test, and that test showed with 99.9% certainty, Finn was the Father. I was distraught, I didn’t know what to do, and yes, I contemplated an abortion… but then fate took it out my hands. Orlando found the pregnancy test, and seeing the look on his face, I knew I couldn’t tell him the truth.

Owen: So, you lied to him as well?

Kloe: In the beginning, yes. But then Finn did the Math’s and figured out something was wrong. He threatened to go to Orlando and tell him the truth and gave me no choice. I had to confess to him and tell him that the child he thought was going to be his, was his brothers. And Orlando being the man he was, promised to take care of us both, regardless of if you were his or not. It was Orlando who caused the split between Finn and their Father, to make sure that he could never interfere in our lives. After you were born, this…

She holds up the birth certificate.

Kloe: I thought Orlando threw it away, but obviously not. 

Owen’s first thought was that Orlando had wanted him to find it, and know the truth one day, but that didn’t matter right now.

Owen: So, Finn ending up in jail, that was all true. 

Kloe: Mostly yes. But it was Orlando that started the fight purposely, knowing that Finn was hot headed and would go too far, to try to get back in his family’s good books. Cutting him out the family after that was easy. He’d done some things already and had nearly ended up inside, so it was inevitable.

Owen shakes his head in disbelief, almost still not believing what he was hearing.

Kloe: Yes, Owen it was a mess, so Orlando and I did whatever we could to cover it up and ensure you led as normal a life as possible. Finn was never supposed to be released from prison, we imagined he’d do something and be there forever. So when he came out and started stirring up trouble, I had no choice but to steer clear and hope that he kept quiet.

Owen: But hold on, he didn’t… he told me in those documents that something was going on. But Chris Clay… said they were fake. He confirmed it.

Kloe lowers her head.

Kloe: They were real Owen, every single word. I paid Chris to say that they were forgeries, hoping that you and Finn would both let it go, and you did Owen. You did let it go. I just didn’t realize just how messed up Finn had become… and how far he would go for revenge.

Chris Clay had done so much worked for the Cruze family, it was another kick in the guts for Owen, someone else he had trusted letting him down. It was starting to become a common theme. Owen sits quietly, digesting it all, wondering if there was more to the story but no sure he could take it right now. Instead he just sits in silence, staring at the glass of Jack Daniels in his hand. For a few moments Kloe doesn’t say another word, and takes another sip of her wine, finally she does speak.

Kloe: Owen, please saying something, do something.

Owen: What do you want me to do Mom, throw something, smashing something… blow my brains out perhaps?

Kloe doesn’t miss the implication of those last words.

Kloe: No…

Owen: I’ve just been told that my life has been nothing more than a sham, I reckon I deserve a moment to ponder, don’t you?

Kloe: It’s not been a sham Owen… Orlando loved you. You WERE his son, no matter what a piece of paper says.

Owen: No Mom, no he wasn’t. FINN was. And I watched my Dad kill himself because I wouldn’t believe what he was telling me. Shaun’s not really my Uncle, Ruby’s not even my blood Sister. This is next level fucked up… and you know what, I don’t think I can take it anymore. 

Kloe: Don’t say that Owen.

Owen: What… can you blame me? The things that have happened… the things I’ve seen. And now, the person who I dedicated my life to, to preserve his legacy wasn’t even my Dad. 

Owen stops, and takes the deepest breath, and letting his head fall back he looks up at the ceiling. 

Owen: I’ve been let down by so many people Mom, and now in the ultimate insult I’ve been lied to by the one person who should always have my back. The person who gave birth to me. I’m done Mom… I’m through. It’s over.

Owen looks back at the Jack Daniels, and gets to his feet, grabbing the bottle.

Kloe: Where are you going?

Owen: I dunno Mom, somewhere… anywhere away from here.

Kloe: I’m not letting you leave like this.

Owen sneers.

Owen: Can’t you see Mom; you can’t stop me.

He heads to the door, Kloe grabbing his hand but Owen snatching it away, his eyes narrowing he stares at her.

Owen: Don’t touch me Mom… I’m warning you.

Kloe recoils, seeing the anger and hate burning in his eyes. 

Kloe: Owen, please don’t go? We can get through this.

Owen: You lied to me and I’ll never forgive you. Fuck you Mom… in fact, FUCK YOU ALL!!!

Owen storms out the house, slamming the door behind him. As Kloe stares from the window in tears, he gets into his car, and roars out the driveway, the bottle of Jack Daniels resting on the passenger seat. He doesn’t stop, until he realizes where he is, and slowing down he comes to a stop outside Shaun’s house and looks down the driveway. He picks up the bottle and unscrews the lid, drinking straight from it, once again glancing at the house, fighting every sinew in his body that’s trying to force him to get out the car and go talk to Shaun. 

Owen: Come on Owen… swallow your pride. He’ll forgive, you know he will.

For so many years Shaun had been there for him, and in one moment, Owen disrespected that. Right now, he would have done anything to talk it through with him, but he knew deep down that he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he’d lost that right with one selfish action. 

Owen: Fucks sake.

Orlando, Kloe, Finn… none of them were who he believed them to be. He hated them, all of them, their betrayal forever unforgivable. Owen takes another huge swallow of the whiskey, and replaces the cap, throwing the bottle back onto the passenger seat before gunning the engine and driving away from the house. With literally no one to turn to when he needed someone the most. Clarity bringing him the truth… but leaving him with nothing.

12th June 2021

St Louis

Owen Cruze leans against a bollard in front of the Enterprise Center. Now all seems quiet bar a few people hanging around, but Owen knew that tomorrow night it would be a much different story. Taking Hold of the Flame had sold out months ago, and yet still the most resolute fans were hoping to get their hands on an overpriced ticket from one of the touts that was sure to be found around here tomorrow. With his hood up, no one seems to recognize who he is, Owen doing away with the need for a video camera, or indeed a camera crew, and filming this on his iPhone. This is how he wanted it, his personal life in turmoil he couldn’t let his professional go the same way. He was supremely focused right now, concentrating on one thing and one thing alone, that being winning it all tomorrow night. He knew it would be difficult, he knew what he was going to have to endure, and yet he still felt confident that this was going to be that moment. That moment when no one would be given any other choice than to accept the fact that Owen had ascended to an entirely different level. With the phone held out in front of him, he presses record, and starts to speak in a confident, yet quiet tone.

“What do Justin Bieber, The Weeknd, Harry Styles and Rage against the Machine have in common? Sounds like a stupid question, right? I mean, all of them have a popular place in music and probably quite a few million dollars between them. All of them are famous around the world for what they do, and you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who hasn’t heard of any one of them. But what you might not know is that over the course of this year, all four acts are going to perform here…”

He points over his shoulder towards the huge building behind him.

“At the Enterprise Center here in St Louis.”

Before he would have imagined a cheer for that cheap pop, now it would more than likely be greeted with boos. He smirks at the thought of it before continuing.

“And you know something, Bieber and Styles might have teenage girls wetting themselves at the mere sight of them in concert. Rage against the Machine fans may well shake a few brain cells loose in the mosh pit. And the Weeknd’s fans, they probably will be wondering what the dude has done to his face… I mean, seriously? But I assure you… 100%. None of them will achieve the noise levels that the SCW fans will reach when I step through that curtain and make my way towards the ring. Because love or hate me… not one of them will ignore me. You want to know the headline act in the Enterprise Center this year? It ain’t these fools, it’s ME. It's ALL about ME.”

He shrugs.

“But of course, I’m not naïve enough to believe that EVERYONE will pay attention. I mean, when there are only so many SCW brain cells to pass around, there will always be someone who misses out. This week, there will be those going into the Battle Royal totally discounting everything I have done of late, and last week it was Christy Matthews that came away guilty as charged. See, I’ll be honest… with all the tales of woe I’ve had with Infamous and those involved, I thought Christy would at least have some semblance of importance. I thought Christy Matthews, that’s Christy Matthews HALL OF FAMER, would have at least had a modicum of intelligence. Syren, Ravyn… they always have something to say when it comes to the Cruze family. Fuck, it’s difficult to shut them up, which makes these moments that little bit more special. Coz Christy didn’t just ignore me, Christy disrespected me. Christy couldn’t even be arsed to show her face on camera and gives the SCW fanbase her thoughts. After her efforts against Bison, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt. I thought better of someone that has achieved what she has. I expected a fight. What I got was a damp squib. Someone who will say she dominated the match, and yet just like Mayweather I was merely playing with her, like a cat with a mouse. Just waiting for that one moment I’d need. I got nothing more than a shell of the person that she once was. I dunno, maybe she thought she was beaten already, but that isn’t anywhere near a valid excuse for ignorance. She got what she deserved, and tomorrow night folks, any of you choose to ignore me… what happened to her, the indignation of losing to some ‘lesser’ like me, is going to happen to every single one of you, until I stand in that ring alone. You can harp on all you wish about your own attributes; I don’t blame any of you. The better you make yourselves look, the more it will mean when I win. But I guess where Christy was concerned the adage rings true. If you don’t have any sensible or constructive to say, don’t say anything at all. Thankfully, I’ve no doubt that there will be many of you with plenty to say… in fact, I bet I can generalize right now the sewage that’s going to spew from probably all thirty-nine others mouths right now. in fact, we've already heard plenty.”

He sits down on the floor, his hood still over his head, peering now down towards the iPhone. The Enterprise Center behind him can no longer be seen, the lens focused only on his partially covered face.

“But, I’ll deal more with individuals later. For now, can you tell me one thing that you associate St Louis with? I know, it’s kinda difficult when but on the spot like that right? So, take a minute, we got all the time in the world.”

Owen sits people watching for a few moments, allowing the world to go by in front of him, before after glancing at his watch once he looks back towards his phone.

“OK, so what you got? Perhaps you mentioned the Gateway Arch that you can see over my shoulder in the distance, or the Missouri Botanical Garden, both of which have appeared in my promos in the past. You may well have listed the Mississippi River, or perhaps this cities French past and the Catholic Immigrants from Ireland, Germany and Italy that arrived in the 19th and 20th centuries. Or if you are interested in sports, it might well be the Cardinals, or the Blues that come to mind before anything else. But this isn’t about you, it’s about me, and do you know what I think of the moment I hear the words ‘St Louis’. I think of opportunity, and the chance to put a big capital letter and a bold fuck off underline under a word that has become synonymous with me over the past couple of months. Clarity. St Louis, Missouri is an opportunity for me to share with thirty-nine other individuals the notion that this company, and all those that continue to dance to the piper’s tune are far from saving Supreme Championship Wrestling, and the reality is they are killing it.”

Owen shrugs his shoulders, tilting his head to one side. 

“These people are no different to Infamous, or the Wonderland, the Golden Boys or many others. The only difference being the aforementioned at least state their intentions openly, as do I. And my intention this weekend is not to pander to the masses, speak humbly and with morality like I have done in the past, and speak of how the odds are against me, screw that. I’m going to in the main talking about me… and ONLY me. There are only TWO intentions… one, deliver the message En masse, that this isn’t a ‘phase’ and is SCW’s new reality. And two, win Taking Hold of the Flame, whilst at the same time quieting the naysayers at least for a few moments. And who but the uneducated will argue that I am right up there amongst the favorites? No matter who you name, former champions, legends, hall of famers, it doesn’t matter. It’s a fool’s errand, truly it is, and to suggest anything other than the fact I have EARNED and DESERVE my place amongst them. I know one person who won’t argue with me, or at least she shouldn’t. I spoke of her a little earlier, and she got a taste of how thirty-nine others are going to be feeling by the time the most significant match of the year thus far comes to an end. You want to know my attributes, the skills that will take me from whenever I enter, all the way to being the last to take his leave, you go and ask Christy Matthews, because she knows. She knows more than anyone that although yes, I can be stopped or slowed down, actually doing so is an entirely different task altogether.”

Owen shakes his head dismissively, making it clear what he thought of both Christy and Infamous overall. No doubt their paths would cross once again in the Battle Royal, maybe they would be one of those to target him… he couldn’t care less. The excitement he felt for this match was palpable, and he wasn’t going to let THEM dampen that. With a smile he continues.

“See, although what I am about to endure is one of the toughest matches on the SCW calendar and certainly one of the most unpredictable, it is also the match that gives someone a unique opportunity. I’ve spoken in length several times over the last couple of months and explained how manipulative this company is, always willing to use personal issues in the chase for the almighty dollar but Taking Hold of the Flame is one of those matches which is almost impossible for the company to have any say in the outcome. I mean if they had, would Giovanni Aries have ever been allowed to get so far? Of course not. Yes, Dave did indeed win last year, but that wasn’t manipulation. No, that was Dave riding the crest of the wave he fell off only recently, as he inevitably would… heeding the company line. Get well soon Dave… sincerely.”

Owen winks towards the camera, a huge grin on his face

“But in the Battle Royal there are so many moving parts, it’s impossible to cover them all. If I endure as I believe I will, SCW won’t be able to stop me from claiming the prize we all crave so badly. No, it’s going to be talent, anger, hate, or outright jealousy that will eliminate me from the Battle Royal, and not the Drachawych family playing favorites. And you know something, I can handle that. What I can’t handle, sorry what I couldn’t handle was being the hierarchy’s puppet. Because I’ve heard everyone trying to pass me off as bitter and twisted, and you know something, they are right. I am bitter, I am twisted… who wouldn’t be when you have been used and manipulated as many times as I have in the past? Imagine fighting for someone who you believed was the right person to run this company, only to find out she’s your greatest enemy and the person who was solely responsible for holding me back. Imagine being nineteen years old and becoming World Champion, only to be fucked over at the next PPV. Imagine fighting for a cause, that it seems like only I believed in.”

He lowers his head.

“Imagine believing you had friends for life, but them leaving you high and dry the moment you had a thought for yourself.”

He lifts his head, his lips pursed, and his eyes narrowed. He bites his bottom lips, trying to contain the anger starting to surge through his body as he recalls recent events.

“Imagine people you respected, people you IDOLISED, believing that you could be as big an asshole as Giovanni Aries. Simply because you dared to agree with some of the things he had to say.”

He takes a deep breath.

“So BITTER? Fuck yeah, I am. But not towards any of you, I couldn’t care less, I’m not even bitter towards Supreme Championship Wrestling really. Nope. I’m pissed off at myself for not seeing it earlier. And you know what… I have EVERY right to be. See although some will claim that I stopped caring, and that’s bullshit it really is. I know what Taking Hold of the Flame means, and I realize it’s importance, but this year, it’s gonna have further relevance. You can call it naivety, call it arrogance, honestly… I’m sure there will be many over the course of the next few hours that will call me something a whole lot worse. But this kinda match, is MY domain. Oh, it’s clear that thirty-nine other people want that World Championship shot in the main event at Rise to Greatness. It’s clear that thirty-nine others are going to want to be remembered as part of an elite cast that can say they won THE single most prestigious Battle Royal in the wrestling industry. I KNOW what it means to other people. I UNDERSTAND how much it means to certain individuals to be the one to eliminate me and end my hopes for another year. But you know what, that might sound like a disadvantage, to have everyone gunning for me. It might sound like my odds have been shortened… but who’s to say I won’t be one of the last to enter, when most of the field would have been cleared. I get it, I get that this is the road to Rise to Greatness and everybody wants to be there, headlining the most spectacular show on Earth. And yet still, even now… people cannot, nor will they ever, understand ME. They outright refuse to accept that I am the quickest individual on this roster BAR NONE, and you can’t eliminate that which you cannot catch. They won’t respect that I am agile beyond anything that they can imagine, and that when all seems lost, I’ll still find a way to ensure my feet don’t touch the ground. They’ll say I’m too small. They’ll say I’m not strong enough. They’ll say there isn’t a chance in hell I can throw thirty-nine others out of that ring and be the sole survivor. But that’s the thing, I don’t have to. I only have to eliminate the poor fool who is destined to finish second place to me. Sucks to be them, right? One morality superkick and oops… it’s game over. A touch of Clarity like Christy received, and it’s lights out. Because all I gotta do is stay alive in the match… and staying alive isn’t just a Tony Manero thing, look it up, I ain’t explaining. Staying Alive, being alive… it’s what I do, by constantly being on the move. And at Taking Hold of the Flame everything I have done thus far comes to one single focal point. All that abuse, all that disrespect, all that heartache will lead me to one thing. Taking the Flame, and then once again becoming the SCW World Champion… because you know something, I fucking deserve it. Certainly, more than many I could mention, but I simply don’t have the time to drone on as seems commonplace around here. 

I will say this however, I deserve my shot far more than a certain ‘Face of SCW’ at any rate. But you see, that’s the thing. She may well be happy facing CID for the World title without having done a single thing to deserve it, but I will never be. I’ve always worked my ass off for this company, in fact I still work my hardest, only now it’s by my rules and not theirs. Fuck your handouts, all I want is respect. And after what I’ve done for this company, I cannot see how that is anything but a valid request. And if it takes standing tall at the conclusion of Ride to Greatness to show you that the ‘FACE’ of SCW has been stood here all along. That the ‘Conscience’ of SCW is right in in front of you. Then winning Taking Hold of the Flame is EXACTLY what I’m going to do. And you know why? You know why I’m so damn confident it’s going to come true? Because I’m different. So very different to those that seek the same prize.”

His eyes narrow defiantly as he starts to address the field.

“I ain’t some dumbass bitch being led around by his dick for sexual favors, by a woman who couldn’t care less about him, and has only weaponized the guy for her own personal enjoyment. I shouldn’t take the piss too much, after all I know what it’s like to be the ‘puppet’ around here, but at least I never had to wear a gimp mask. What’s next huh? A geriatric wearing nappies and only being able to say ‘Goo Goo Gaa Gaa’ in his promos whilst sucking on his mistress’s tit? Just the mere thought of it is burning through my eyeballs. How the fuck do you expect to command respect bro when you seem incapable of respecting yourself? And talking about respecting yourself, you ain’t gonna get that hanging with someone known only for the size of her ass. Moving on, I’m not an ‘Allstar’ or ‘Wrestling’s Enlightenment’ praying that the flame falls their way for another shot at the big time. And in a certain individual’s case, yeah, I’m talking to you Allocco, his only rhetoric being that the Cruze family, and in particular Orlando, are nothing more than a waste of space when the facts speak otherwise. Or you Gavin, floundering around, reaching for a foothold in precisely the same way you have done for the last decade. The Clown… yeah he’s different no doubt, always has been. But he only thinks there are five people in this match, has an hard on for Syren… even on first names terms, and has a bigger bug up his ass about Olek than I do. And then of course, you have Mr. D’s hired gun Josh Hudson, the guy who has had more comebacks than the other guy, who has never taken this business seriously, but always seem to pop up when Rise to Greatness season comes around. Yeah Ace, I’m talking about you. And who can forget the Taxi Driver who believes that now he’s a wrestler but doesn’t realize he’s only in this match as comic relief. No screw that, he’s only in the company as comic relief, and to cover up the fact that The Chuke… the fucking Chuke has somehow found his way onto the field. Sorry Vihaan, it seems your spot has already been filled… now what you going to do. And I have to mention the nostalgia whores who cannot maintain a full schedule any longer. Dawn Lohan I’ll let slide… I like you Dawn, always have. But Justin Davis, Beard, Drake Hemingway, and no doubt many of the surprises yet to throw their hat into the ring are names from the past. WHY? What right do they have to step up for ONE match, and claim a shot at the World Title? The most prestigious belt apparently in our business. You’re seriously going to tell me that’s right?

It's not.

These people, they all have talent, I’m not going to deny that, or HAD talent maybe I should say, but why do you think that some of them must remain secret? If they are that big a name, with that much history and more importantly ability, why the mystery? Because they NEED the advantage perhaps? They are the PAST for a reason. Who knows who is going to come down that ramp when that buzzer sounds? Kelcey? Peyton? Kennedy even? Maybe Giovanni is having us all on, and this is another of his mind games. Could Alistaire Allocco be ready to make his triumphant return? Or could we be going back even further, to the likes of Alexis Quinne, Andrew Raynes… just imagine Blitzkrieg’s siren hitting and the look on many faces as they wet themselves in fear, or the Impact Player, back for yet another payday… and a kick in the balls for his trouble. Lethal Weapon, Shawn Winters, maybe the D himself, wouldn’t put it past the egotistical son of a bitch. You can’t predict, it’s impossible. But can’t you see, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who comes down that ramp, they won’t have the same desire as the true contenders have. They won’t need this as much as a Bree Lancaster, who seems to believe that fans are going to love her now. Actually the fickle fuckers probably will. Or a James Evans, a guy who having claimed gold now believes himself to be a King… or even a Syren, once again chasing relevancy when her only use is given Shilo something to talk about. And all of whom have more of a point to prove at this event than literally everyone. And yes, even Jordan Majors could be a superstar no question, but listen to her, is she really motivated enough to win it all? Are we supposed to believe that suddenly, because of one show the funk she has been in has broken? And leaving the best till last, how can I not say Asher Hayes is a more than capable wrestler, it’s obvious. But are you really going to tell me he cares more about this business than he does acting like a dick with Barbie Adams? Whose literal ONLY claim to fame is being a prick on social media? You need to CARE, you need to be motivated, and no one in this field matches my laser focused desire to succeed. NO ONE. Because no one craves that which I personally need. Like I said… my motivations are DIFFERENT.”

He stops for a few seconds, composing his thoughts.

“My motivation is simple. Yes, I want that Flame. Yes, I want that title shot. But you know something, at the same time I want to do something MUCH bigger than any of those things. I want to be the one to change SCW, and to do that I must do something that a Cruze has NEVER done, and win Taking Hold of the Flame. Solidifying one simple fact. That when it comes to our industry, even now at twenty-one years old, I am the most talented ‘Cruze’ that ever lived. I am more than an Impact Player, even more than an Icon. When it comes to my family, I am its ‘definition’, and proving that fact is all the motivation that I need. Orlando couldn’t do it. Shaun couldn’t do it. I will. And no matter how much you all ‘want’ it, it isn’t going to matter. Because what I want…” 

He laughs.

“It just means more. MUCH more. So, when you sit down to do your promos. When you compose your witty one liners, threats, or guarantees… please keep one thing at the very forefront of your mind.”

Owen points to his temple, emphasizing the fact.

“I’ve been down. I’ve been out. I’ve been forgotten. I’ve been abused, I’ve been used, and I’ve been discarded. But I fought back, I grew stronger. I refused to quit, and I refused to be ignored. THAT is the essence of a winner, to achieve the impossible from where once it all seemed lost. And I was lost, no doubt… but now I know exactly who I am.”

He gets to his feet. He pulls the hood from over his head, and slowly people in the vicinity, maybe the ones still trying to obtain tickets realize who he is. Some point, others stare, but every wrestling fan that becomes away starts paying attention. 

“My life, my rules. So, whether you are still with me on this train, or your now against me, I’d advise against belittling me. Love me, or hate me… I demand that you respect me. Little boy Bree? Alright sweetheart.”

He looks around the crowd and smirks, then silently sniggers whilst pointing at his chest.

“This is me, the REAL me. You may not like it, but you will HAVE to learn to deal with it. Number three, or Number Forty, I AM going to make sure I am the last person standing. I can’t guarantee it, but I firmly believe I will succeed and confirm MY legacy. You can all, step up to the plate, try and stop me, because I assure you that you won’t.”

He turns around, and points to the Taking Hold of the Flame graphic on the video screen, looking at it for a moment before then whilst still pointing looking back at his phone.

“This is my time, my moment, MY FLAME. And then, at Rise to Greatness…”

He salutes the phone, and then the watching crowd, some of them who jeer.

“… MY title. And the best part is, it ain't destiny, or written in the stars, or even a fairy tale. It's just cold hard FACT. Something that 39 of you won't be able to do a thing about. Think on that, digest it... learn to live with it. There is literally no other choice. This night, categorically belongs to ME.”

With another smirk he throws his hood back up again and purposely walks right through the middle of the crowd, the scene abruptly cutting to black.