Southern Blood © versus Simon Cagero and Alex Taylor
All we hear is the bell ringing constantly as two superstars are brawling on the outside. They don’t seem to be affected by the match decision as the referee desperately tries to pull them apart. After seeing that he has no luck in doing so, he requests that more people get called over to stop the brawl. As they are getting separated, we find out the superstars in question are Simon Cagero and Jason Williams.
Jason looks a whole lot younger as the people with the badges named SWA pull him away by force and drag him up the ramp with him kicking furiously trying to get away. Once that superstar makes it to the locker room area, he sees a very pissed off Eric Herrera sitting on the bench. He was awaiting his arrival and was watching it on the mounted television set in front of him. Jason hangs his head low in shame as Eric stands up and scowls at Jason.
Eric: What the fuck was that about?
Jay shrugs his shoulders and looks up at Eric with a smirk on his face. Eric places his hands on his waist, showing that he has no intentions of joking around on this particular occasion.
Jason: That fucker tried to attack my heritage thinking he could get away with it. He didn’t count on the hillbilly having enough of a fight to take him to his limit. That will teach him to judge based on appearance. Let’s see who gets the last laugh now.
Eric slaps his own forehead and shakes his head in embarrassment. His tone of voice rises slightly as he prepares to speak.
Eric: You don’t get it. You sound like an idiot, dude. How many times did I get ridiculed because of my size and my race? Several times, yet you don’t see me giving everyone a black eye. You fell right into his trap, Jason, and it cost you a very important victory.
Eric looks down on him in a very condescending manner but it still doesn’t make Jason budge an inch. He seems stuck to his initial mission in a very stubborn way, except this one did seem to be affecting him because his record was definitely well below the .500 margin. Jason was buried six feet underground due to his mindset but he remained oblivious to it as is common with youth.
Jason: I don’t care. As long as that fucker realizes that even Southerners are capable of achieving success. I may be a hick, redneck, hillbilly, whatever other fucking name you throw out there. But when it comes down to questioning my integrity, my passion for this business? You better have a stretcher prepared out in the back, son, because I’m not pulling any punches.
Eric shakes his head once ahead and starts walking out of the room. He leans against the door frame and buries his head into his left shoulder.
Eric: That’s exactly why you haven’t won a singles championship, Jason. You allow your instinct speak for you instead of thinking things twice. Take it from me, it’s not worth it. No one appreciates me anymore. I’m a wanderer and I’m happy that way. I don’t care what people classify me as. I was born with nothing and I will die with nothing. I embrace it completely; it’s time for you to do something. Just think about it.
He walks away from the room leaving Jason there with a dumbfounded expression on his face. He starts to say “But...” but Eric has already made his way out of the room. He stops mid sentence and smacks the side of the bench. He instantly yelps and shakes his hand in pain. Was Eric really trying to help him or was he trying to attack Jason like everyone else? It would remain to be seen. For now, Jason had to reflect in time to face Russell Brown the reigning Anarchy Champion once more. With Simon Cagero being a top contender, Jason couldn’t afford another loss.
Jason sits in the living room area with his face aiming towards the television. The television set’s volume is turned up very high but it sure doesn’t seem like Jason is paying attention. His eyes look as if he were lost in another dimension until his brother lands a slap to the side of his face. Jason jerks his head in pain and crashes down to earth as Lance looks pretty worried at his brother. Jason reacts in anger and releases a growl that’s barely audible.
Jason: What the hell did you do that for?
Lance: I called your name what must’ve been fifty times and you weren’t responding. What’s going on, man?
Jason scratches his chin while collecting his thoughts. He lowers his voice and looks at his brother as if he’s curious about something. His brother still doesn’t know what caused that reaction but impatiently waits it out.
Jason: Do you ever find yourself remembering old match results just to find something to learn? And I’m not talking about recent either. I mean matches that happened a long time ago.
There’s a long pause as Lance tries to figure out why his partner is asking that particular question. After a while, he gives up realizing that his brother is that complicated, and actually answers the question.
Lance: Depends on who it is. If it’s someone completely new, no because I like to focus completely. If it’s someone that I’ve faced before, definitely because I don’t believe in being lazy. I’m a fighter first and foremost, that comes with the package.
Jason nods and stands up, walking to the edge of the couch turning his back towards his brother. He lets out a sigh and says the following with a bit of a softer tone.
Jason: Well, I was reminded of the last time me and Simon faced off in that ring. For some reason, Eric’s words from that day haven’t escaped my head. He told me that I was judging a book by its cover rather than going for competition. I really don’t know if things would change that drastically if Simon and I faced off once more. If we went to a double count out when we were focused on attacking each other’s personality, imagine what would happen if we actually knew each other better? It’s like that chat a couple of days ago cleared up a lot of things I didn’t know. Does that make me egotistical?
Lance: Of course not. Life is all about asking questions. It gives us some goals to shoot for. In your case, you have every right to be worried. With his in ring experience, we can’t afford to allow management to cloud our mind. It’s time to leave a lasting impression on someone that has actually earned their stripes.
If there was a record screech, you can bet your ass it would be located here. Jason snaps his neck back and looks at his brother with a confused look on his face.
Jason: Uh, you do know they’re not an actual tag team, right?
Lance releases a hearty laugh and nods his head.
Lance: Of course. What kind of champ would I be otherwise? It doesn’t mean we can’t have a good match. They have the experience. Alex Taylor and Simon Cagero have been wrestling for a fair bit of time. Maybe this match right here could be their chance of proving they belong. If they can co-exist and pass the test, then we finally have a fit set of challengers. If they can’t, then it’s time to look for someone else.
Jason shrugs his shoulders.
Jason: If you put it that way then, yeah, I’m game. Just realize that every message has its fair share of consequences. We’re going to make sure they defeat us by more than just a simple over the top rope elimination. We need to cement these tag team championships and the only way that can happen is by showing true brutality.
Lance: I wouldn’t like it any other way. Let’s do this.
Both brothers chuckle and walk out of the room. They board the pickup truck outside containing several suitcases in the back and speed away from the house.
Later in the day
They pull up into Eric’s driveway and unload the luggage in the back of the car. It’s clear that he’s home because the dark red Dodge Caravan is parked on the side. Both brothers head towards the side entrance to the garage and knock on the door. Eric steps out wearing a pair of cargo shorts, a matching tank top, and a pair of black Nike sandals. His black Nike cap is turned backwards allowing us to see his clean shaven face.
As he looks at who is waiting outside, he jumps back in surprise. Both brothers laugh at the reaction and extend their hand out. Eric joins them in laughter and extends his hand to the inside of his garage office motioning for them to step right in.
Eric: Wow, definitely a good surprise. Haven’t seen Lance come over since the school burned down. How’s things going, bro?
Lance: Alright, we just finished winning the MCW tag team titles. Things are finally looking up for the family once more.
All three brothers bump fists in celebration and grin.
Eric: Fuck yeah, about time. I was starting to get a little worried on if you would ever get that rematch clause.
Jay: Yeah, at least they finally wised up and did what’s good for business. It’s partly why we’re here too.
Eric arches an eyebrow but allows them to explain the situation.
Jay: You see, for a little while, we swerved off the track and went our own separate ways. We decided to pursue singles glory because of Jacob Laymon doing that stupid draft. Now that there’s nothing stopping us, it’s time to return to our roots. We were at our peak when you were with us, Eric. If anyone deserves to celebrate with us it’s our teacher and brother.
Eric looks taken back by the offer as several thoughts circle through his mind at once. The history of the stable flashes through his eyes as he wonders if it’s the right thing to do. Then he shakes it off and then shrugs his shoulders in response.
Eric: Are you sure you want to do this? Because I don’t want to force something if you’re not truly ready for it.
Lance: Totally, we are now both a lot more mature than back then. We now realize that no one else appreciates us in the same way as our own flesh and blood. It’s time to listen to our hearts rather to our peers. It’s time to evolve.
Jason nods in agreement as Eric grins at the statement. He had been preaching that for a long time but they continued to be stubborn. They continued to believe that they were already good and didn’t need guidance. This could be the start of an actual title reign if they continue their actual maturing process.
Eric: In that case, I will definitely accept. It will also give us a reason to get to know each other better once again. The Society of Destruction lives on once again in another form.
Right as he says that last name, both brothers look at him in confusion.
Lance: Does that mean you’re going to wrestle?
Eric laughs and shakes his head right after.
Eric: I’ve already proven everything there is to prove, brothers. It’s time to let go and let you take the reins. I trust you to make the right decision.
They nod and place their hands in the center for a group pile up.
Jay: Now that that’s settled, it’s time to kick some ass. Society of Destruction for life.
They collectively yell “Hell yeah!” as they head towards the kitchen entrance to catch up with the rest of the family.
The Next Day
Both brothers are seen at Stark Field in El Centro, California. Darkness has struck, causing both brothers to be covered in leather jackets along with their usual pair of jeans and plain tee shirts. They are seated on the highest level of bleachers, fourth one, while they look at the large batting cage in front of them. Their eyes don’t seem to notice a camera nearby; it’s as if they really didn’t care. Their tag team championships lay in the middle space with their face plate raised up.
A couple of duffle bags are scattered a level lower where their feet are resting comfortably at the moment. Their leather jackets sway with the force of the wind but it still doesn’t seem to affect them a single bit. Finally, a sigh from the older brother breaks the silence as he continues his gaze towards the front. He shakes his head from side to side and clicks his tongue in a sign of disappointment.
Jay: It seems like people never truly learn. Just this past week, I promised to end the reign of tyranny. That we would restore some much needed prestige to these championships and here Jacob decides to book this match. Both of them haven’t wrestled a tag team match in their lives and they don’t seem to buy into the opportunity handed to them. So, why not do the world a favor and admit your fear of us? Admit to everyone that no matter how many times you try and stop us, that mission will never be completed. You tried to toss your entire tag division at our disposal and got burned. Now, you will be forced to suffer that fate one more time as we dispose of yet another thrown together tag team.
Lance: You know, if you told me this same message a couple of weeks ago, I probably would have told you to shut the fuck up. But several things have changed and have converted me into the vicious fighter I initially was. I was willing to say that this business was about equal opportunity and I would live for the thrill of the fight but recently, there have been decisions that make me question that. Like first, he decides to make us defend the tag team titles against nine other tag teams in our original reign, on the next show no less. Then when I was World Champion, he made me defend against Isaac Reynolds even though the guy did jack shit to earn a shot at me. And now, he decides to make Alex Taylor and Simon Cagero to team together for a tag team championship, keyword being tag team. There’s something fishy going on and I certainly don’t mean Randall Williams’ enormous losing streak.
Both brothers chuckle, lightening the mood for the first time. Jason smirks and rests his hands on his knees, hunching forward slightly in the process.
Jay: But that’s the beautiful thing about this. Unlike Randall, we can focus on what’s really important boys. I don’t really care about honor, respect, or any of that mumbo jumbo. The Society of Destruction is dead along with our old school. There’s a new sheriff in town, that sheriff won’t allow compassion to cost him the tag team championships. I know firsthand what you are capable of, Simon. On February 4, 2009, we wrestled to a double count out all because we allowed our anger to do all the talking. Back then, I decided to judge you based on your personality. I foolishly believed that attacking you for being an emo and a washed up has been would seal the deal. Boy, did I learn something new on that particular day... Not only did you pack a good punch, you also were also one of the few in ring veterans to not try to blow smoke up the people’s collective asses. And that’s something I could respect.
Lance: You see, Simon, you aren’t that far off from the Southern Blood way. You’re a fighter that has never needed nor asked for the fans’ support. You just go out there and do your thing, making sure that priority number one is satisfied. You don’t carry a big chip on your shoulder or waste your time judging others. You just let your personality shine through and fuck what everyone else thinks. We’ve been outcasts of society since day one. But it didn’t stop us from building a school for the less fortunate and making sure that wrestling is cleansed. The first encounter may have been foolish but that doesn’t mean the second has to follow in its footsteps. Southern Blood is looking for competition and if it means the two of you are it? Then I have no problem tangling with a hall of fame inductee like yourself. It would be my honor to wrestle you, Simon, and I say that with the utmost sincerity. You are the epitome of what wrestling should be about. That won’t happen until we remove every possible cancer from this business.
Both brothers walk down from the bleachers and enter the baseball field in front of them. One of them stands at the pitcher’s mound while the other stands at the batter’s box. Both of them look in awe of their surroundings.
Jay: Dreams aren’t restricted by heritage or personality. You and my sensei didn’t necessarily have the size or the stacked up resume, but you made the best of it. When we hung out a couple of days ago, you learned the hard way that I changed, Simon, and I know for a fact you have too. This isn’t about having a chip on my shoulder or about becoming the best. This is all for the spirit of competition. I don’t believe in making things personal if they never were to begin with. Team Excellence tried to make it personal and they paid it with a giant underestimation. I pray you don’t follow in their footsteps, Simon, or else it will be a very long night for both of us. I know we both deserve a better match than that and I intend to make the best of it as well. The long awaited rematch between the most wasted motherfucker on this planet and the professor of pain. It can’t get any better than this. This time, management will be shooting themselves in the foot if they try to fire us. SWA failed and now MCW will reap the rewards, you can count on that much.
Lance: As for me, I never forget my roots. In case Jacob tries to screw us over once more, we got ourselves a bodyguard on the way down here. You see, our teacher is going to join us as we walk down that ramp in our first match as tag team champions. The same teacher you forced to wrestle when he wasn’t a member of the roster. But that’s okay, because most of this younger generation outside of Simon wouldn’t be able to keep up with my sensei’s contributions. Most of these people don’t have the balls to admit that failure isn’t the end of the world. They just let themselves drown in it rather than learn from it. I’m not like that. You see, as a champion I have to show the world the meaning of domination. I have to show them that a backdoor or a weapon isn’t going to be enough. That concussing my opponent is the only way I can cement that we’re worthy of wearing these championships. I am much more critical on my actions and I won’t accept no for answer. I’m sorry, Simon, on any ordinary day I would be completely fine with drinking a couple of beers and joking around with you but on this night, it’s business as it should be. I’m determined to show the world that Southern Blood never truly lost the tag team titles and it’s going to be emphasized right here.
Lance nods to emphasize his point, a scowl accompanying it. Jay on the other hand looks a lot more relaxed and has his hands in his pocket, seemingly not affected by the nearby winds. He seems to be enjoying it completely and takes this as his cue to speak.
Jay: As for the other half, Alex Taylor put on one hell of an effort at Mayhem in a losing effort to Simon Cagero. His athletic ability can’t be disputed, but his mouth is what gets him in trouble over half the time. If only you learned how to be yourself, things would be so much better for you. You see, I don’t particularly like it when someone has to hide behind a mask to be successful, especially when that mask is used as a crutch. Now, I know my teacher has worn one plenty of times but he at least has a reason. He doesn’t wear it as if it was some fashion piece he has to show off to the millions in attendance. He doesn’t sit here blaming innocent people for something he didn’t do. That mask defines who he is outside of these confines and that’s what will eternally separate Simon Cagero and Eric Herrera from yourself. You feel the need to flick on a switch and feed us a giant lie rather than being brutally honest. For that, you don’t deserve an ounce of respect. For that, you deserve to be excommunicated from this sport.
Lance: You see, when I went out there and fought for the World Championship, I did it because of how I was raised. I didn’t go out there and lie to the fans saying I cared about them. They chose to cheer me voluntarily for my actions, but I stayed focused on my goal from day one to make sure Priest pays for his actions. To make sure that he realizes that underestimating me comes with its fair share of consequences. There’s no doubt in my mind that you have talent or else you wouldn’t be here. But it’s another to use that talent for the perfectly good reasons. You haven’t given me any reason to acknowledge you as such. You’re a hypocrite and no one will shed a tear when you finally reap what you sowed. All of those championships mean jack shit to me, Alex, because none of them happened here. Take a look at Simon Cagero and my brother... how many championships have those men worn? Enough to be able to die happy yet you see them still chugging along. Why? Because in the end, material possessions don’t mean a single thing. It’s the person behind the championship that matters and you’re going to realize firsthand that I am going to remove that mask and expose you as a fraud for the entire world to see and you only have yourself to blame.
They walk back towards the fence and shake it with such ferocity that the clashing sound is repeated through portions of the park. People turn around to look at them but they don’t seem to care what their reaction is. They remain locked in to the camera that sits right in front of them.
Jay: This may not be for the tag team titles but that doesn’t mean we’re going to consider it a walk in the park. Once that bell rings on Mayhem, you’re going to receive the monster unleashed. No amount of referees will be enough to tame the insanity from the House of Fun transferred into here. You want to contend for a championship? You better be prepared to pay the ultimate price, because I’m done letting sympathy and compassion stop me from reaching my full potential --- becoming world heavyweight champion. Until then, let’s see what bullshit excuse you both come up with for your inevitable demise.
Lance: And not that’s arrogance, that’s the truth. We don’t need to sugar coat things or hold ourselves back with idiotic standards. All we do is show up to kick ass even if we have to paralyze our opponents to prove our point. At Purgatory, two teams were sent down to hell to meet their maker and Mayhem will be no different. Be ready to come to terms with reality, boys. It just wasn’t meant to be. I dare you to prove us wrong.
Fade to black.