hold this thread as i walk away

11:55pm

sunday, july 30

----

“Jack, you need to get out of Las Vegas. This circus of a wrestling federation is out of control, and I’m worried that you’re going to lose yourself. Call me back – now.”

Exhaustion and confusion surrounded Jack McGrath, who sat alone at his kitchen table in his shithole apartment on the outskirts of the Vegas strip. He pressed a white t-shirt up to his left ear, trying to stop the bleeding.

Jack had listened to this voice message from his father three times now. He had always respected and looked up to his Dad, but tonight, he had no intentions of calling him back. McGrath closed his eyes, and slowly put his head down on the table.

Only one thought raced through his mind.

Revenge on “Gosuto Sutori”.

the next day

----

McGrath came to Razor Wrestling with hopes and dreams. Ambitions of being one of the best professional wrestlers in the world – hopeful of spring-boarding his career into the ether. The puroresu obsessed McGrath was now on the verge of losing his way.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He stumbled through the gardening center at the local supercenter, Rüfmart. McGrath looked like a walking corpse. The blood-crusted t-shirt was wrapped around the side of his head, covering his maimed left ear. And, of course, he sported the crusted black eye patch. The sweat-drenched behemoth plodded passed fertilizer, seedlings, and potting soil.

This was not a time for growth.

An overly enthusiastic employee offered to assist McGrath, but Jack wandered by him without a glance. Jack’s only focus was on Reid Ashford, and the Las Vegas Street Fight at Superunknown. Obsessive thoughts of violence and retribution plagued him. His solitary orb lit up, perhaps his only shining moment in recent days.

“This will do,” he said under his breath. McGrath took hold of a 16’’ inch sickle, worshipping every inch of it.

This was a time for destruction.