Meltdown 155 - PC Stevie Broon vs Garth Black

[Jeff Deliverer of Mail]

Eurasian Tournament - Round 1 -

The rough and tough PC Broon will battle the legendary Garth Black for a chance at the Eurasian Championship to open the tournament!

******DEADLINE is Tuesday the 30th of OCTOBER at 11:59 PM EST *********

 

[Dave]

PC Stevie Broon

In...

Put the “U” in “Retribution”​

The time had come to get revenge, ah knew it better than anyone. For weeks upon weeks, ah had replayed the night in the garden over in ma heed, thinkin' about what ah could have did differently or steps ah could have taken for a different result. Ah beat maself up more than Harald Var Krigare could ever do. And the truth of it all was abundantly clear – that night in Big Janice's garden had ruined ma confidence. Honestly, ah had felt lower than a piece of shit on the bottom ae a shoe in the last few weeks and it was obvious why.

Stevie Broon didn't get jumped! Stevie Broon was the one who did the jumpin'. The lump on the back ae ma heed as big as a fuckin' gold ball didn't just ache with pain – it reminded me of just how immature and naïve ah had been in those few weeks.

Ah was ridin' high on the crest of a wave, nae doubt about it. The Baron ae Jakey Bashin' had took his act all over the world and had started bashin' WZCW superstars along with jakies. Titus,was the biggest scalp to fall to mah fast start. But whilst he had pressed ahead and found himself battlin' for the Heavyweight Championship, ah had stood still and found mahself on the end of a beating from Var Krigare at R-Awakening. Not ideal, by any stretch. The more ah thought about it, the more it became clear that the night in the garden had rocked mah confidence as well as mah reputation.

Big Janice hadn't been in work in weeks – she was all to aware that ah had rumbled her plan. She was the mother of Shug The Gun, there could be no doubt about it any more. In the weeks off since R-Awakening, ah had taken matters into mah own hands and did some diggin'. Ah also did some strikin', bootin' and batterin' as well but those are mere details at this stage. After putting ma fists through more junkie skin than a hypodermic needle, ah had mah answer. Big Janice had orchestrated the whole thing and it has played out perfectly. The only question was why. A question that as would have answered and soon.

Cocaine Kev had pointed me towards a local drug den for information – not willingly, I'll admit. Once there, ah had managed to track Big Janice down to a suburb of The Gorbals. A couple of nights of supervision had showed me her routine. In the hoose for half 7, Coronation Street and then Only Connect afterwards on demand. A supper ae a piece on marmalade and then up tae bed for a read at Fifty Shades before bed. Like clockwork. Tonight was the night that Stevie Broon got even with Big Janice for her part in the attack on him. And what's more, tonight was the night that Stevie got his mojo back, put all of the shite behind him, and reclaimed the advantage on the hunt for gold in WZCW!

Ah watched the last watchman leave the hoose and head for the motor out the back ae the hoose and then made ma move.

Me: It's go time!

Ah headed roon the other side ae the hoose, makin' sure not to trip the motion detector at the back door. Stayin' low, ah ran towards the motor and pulled open the door. The look on the dafties face as ah pulled him fae the Vauxhall Corsa was a thing of sheer beauty. Ah pulled the dobber tae his feet and delivered a sublime German suplex that left him more sparkled than a bottle ae Prosecco. Ah grabbed him by the hair and delivered a stiff chop to the throat that put him to sleep once and for all.

After dispatching the guard, it was time to get even with Big Janice. Ah picked the lock ae the back door and moved inside. The sound of Only Connect's Word Wall was unmistakeble and told me exactly what I needed to know about Janice's location.

Big Janice: Eh, train stations!? Em, royal families – naw!

As Big Janice struggled to make connections on a TV show, ah crept around the corner – determined to make mah fist connect with her jaw. Ah went up the hall and then leapt around the corner, hoping to surprise Big Janice with mah appearance!

Me: Right, ya boot! Time-

Big Janice: STEVIE! THANK GOD YAE CAME! THEY'VE GOT ME TRAPPED HERE! AH NEED YER HELP, SON!

Big Janice jumped oot her arm chair and dropped tae her knees. She scuttled across the floor until she was hugging both mah legs like a wean that didn't want it's Da tae leave for a 'packet ae smokes'.

What the fuck was going on here!?

The mystery concludes soon...

 

[Tastycles]

From Blackness to the Light


Chapter One: Letting Go


Garth Black never really knew his parents. His mother had died when he was very young and his father… Well the less said about him the better, if we were to be perfectly honest. The reality of his life had been a maelstrom, and he had passed from door to door, house to house down the streets of life and never really found anywhere to call home. Never laid any roots. A dandelion seed floating in the breeze. Maybe someday he’d make someone’s wish come true. Maybe it would be his own. Maybe.


The reality was and always had been that Black had only really had two positive influences in his life. His trainer, mentor and idol Daddy Mack was one of them, but over the course of the last couple of years, Mack had been less and less enthused to see his protégé, proud of his achievements but disappointed about how he achieved them. Or at least his demeanour in doing so. That was a bridge Black had every intention of unburning, but until he could better understand himself, there was no point in doing that.


Which brought him on to his second positive influence, Tommy Black. Tommy was in many ways just as flawed as Garth. He was older than his brother, and more successful in many ways, but where Garth had confronted his past head on, albeit unhealthily at times, Tommy remained steadfast in leaving the past where it came from and focussing on the now.


As people, they couldn’t be more different. Tommy still lived in Wales, indeed had barely moved 10 miles from the hometown that neither of them wished they came from. Tommy had a steady job, a lovely family and he had pretty much nothing to worry about. He had seen the world whilst serving in the forces, but he had no desire to see any more of it. He didn’t and couldn’t understand Black’s desire to get out and keep on moving on in the world, and he certainly didn’t understand wrestling or why Black would want to do it.


The only thing the two brothers shared was a shared history. And a fear of flying.


It wasn’t always this way. Garth had spent his youth idolising Tommy. He wasn’t the main influence in his life, he was the only influence in his life. Garth wanted to be Tommy, but 13 years younger. He cut his hair when Tommy told him to, he did the school courses he suggested but there was always something that didn’t settle right with following every piece of advice his brother ever gave to the letter.


This doubt grew with time, but having still not met the Mack Daddy at this point, Garth felt off the rails if he didn’t acquiesce to his brother’s whims and ideas. Getting out of his brother’s sphere of influence and the dependence upon him was more difficult for him than giving up his addictions had been. His brother was his world, and his brother’s worldview was his life. Find a job, buy a house, find a wife, have some kids. But this wasn’t Garth.

When Garth was 19 years old, it had all come to a very unpleasant head. He and his brother had been drinking, he said something he didn’t mean, and his brother threw him through a perimeter fence of a used car dealership they were walking by. Were it not for the group of friends out with them, it could have been a very much worse.


Black made two vows that day. 1) He would never let anyone throw him through a fence again, and indeed the next day he signed up to Daddy Mack’s academy. 2) He would never try to be like his brother ever again.


The relationship grew strained as the two tried to readjust. The more Garth Black tried to cut his own path, the less Tommy saw sense in the path he was taking. They never stopped talking, but the arguments grew more frequent.


Eventually, it was clear to Garth that Tommy believed he was turning into his father. Every mistake Garth made, of which there were plenty, Tommy would see his father. One day, Garth finally plucked up the courage to stand up to his brother’s condescension.


Garth: I am Garth Black. My successes aren’t you, though many of them are because of you. My mistakes aren’t him. They’re me. It’s all me. I’m not perfect, nor would I ever claim to be, but the reality is I am my own man. Please view me, my quirks, my qualities and my flaws as this person stood before you.


As defining moments in his life go, it’s probably the most important paragraph that Garth Black ever spoke. From that day on his brother wasn’t his template, nor his antagonist, but a counsel. Someone who Garth admired, but not someone to whom he aspired to be.


The Black brothers didn’t see very much of each other any more, especially since Garth emigrated, but they had a much healthier relationship. Garth had a few days down time after his match with Titus, so he went to visit his brother. The two of them sat on the patio outside Tommy’s beautiful Art Deco house.


Tommy: So.. err.. who’s your next match against


Garth: You don’t have to pretend to care


Tommy: No, honestly


Garth: I’m against a guy called Stevie Broon. Scottish, ex copper, but to be honest I need subtitles to understand what he’s even saying.


Tommy: Well Black always was a stronger than Brown.


Garth: Heh, I might use that. If I bother to go to Meltdown


Tommy: Why wouldn’t you?


Garth wasn’t sure if it was the clarity of the summer breeze, or the two beers he had gently sipped or the fact that after a ten year career his brother had finally taken an interest but the flood gates opened. Garth started with the Abel Hunnicutt match three years ago and unleashed everything on his brother, who sat and listened with interest and intrigue.


By the time Garth finished, he had been through a whirlwind of emotions and was almost shaking. His brother took everything he said in, and after a few seconds of quiet contemplation he spoke.


Tommy: You need to learn to let go


Garth: And how do I do that?


Tommy: Write down everything you hate on this piece of paper.


Garth did, and as he went on the list became easier and easier to write.


I hate that I lost to Titus.

I hate that I’m not the World Champion

I hate that I never get mentioned as a big deal by my peers because I don’t socialise with the other wrestlers.

I hate that I have no influence over my own direction

I hate that words are put in my mouth

I hate that my actions are presented as irrational and inconsistent

I hate the way that I’m an afterthought

I hate that I don’t have parents

I hate that I’m not proud of myself

I hate that I can’t just get on with my job

I hate that I’m jealous of the success of others

I hate that I complain about things and never do anything to rectify them.

I hate that I’m indifferent and lazy half the time

I hate that I continually try to reinvent myself but never really get comfortable in my own skin

I hate that I don’t act how I want to act

I hate that I don’t say what I mean to say

I hate that I don’t do what I want to do

I hate that I’m not myself.


He dropped the pen.


Tommy: Finished?


Garth: I think so.


Tommy: Here attach it to this and hold out your hand.


Tommy presented his little brother with a helium balloon his daughter had received for her birthday. Garth tied the note to the balloon and Tommy put the balloon in his hand and cut the rope.



Tommy: Now let go.


Garth hesitated, but he listened to his brother. He let go and as the balloon headed for the stratosphere, he felt that it took a weight off his shoulders with it as it rose.


He breathed a sigh of relief and then took out his phone and dialled.


Black: Hi, yeah, Miss Serra? I’ll be on Meltdown as scheduled this week.