Fingertips - Cadillac Jackson Night 1 RP

Alone.

How often can you say you're truly alone on a day to day basis? Whether it's seeing  a loved one, a family member, a best friend or a stranger on the street; we barely ever have an entire day without interaction of some sort. Especially in todays day and age, we may be physically alone but there's always the constant texts, social media messages, the stray email... or God forbid you can't order DoorDash and have to drive your ass to a fast food establishment to get dinner. It's always somethin'.

There's always someone you can turn to or you're bound to run into in a days time.

Well, for the most part.

For over 24 hours I sat in the back of a private plane as they shipped my half-unconscious ass back to New Hampshire from Maebashi, Japan. No flight attendance, no other passengers, no cellphone or internet service. Just me, a pilot rooms away, the roaring of the plane and the absolute worst pain I've ever been in. Given the amount of drugs I was on, with the pain killers that were prescribed and, well, some that frankly were not; you'd have thought I'd be out cold by the time the tires left the runway.

Fuck do I wish that's what had happened.

Instead I sat, weeks away from the biggest match of my life, the most monumental moment of my career; unsure if I was going to be cleared to wrestle. I'll be the first to admit it, I had nobody but myself to blame. My hubris has always been my downfall, and I guess I read the room incorrectly when it came to Ozymandias. I knew someone of Ozy's caliber wouldn't be afraid of me, wouldn't take a match with me as a true threat, but I thought I could get one over on him. I've made a career out of getting into the heads of my opponents. Making them feel that I was on a whole other level. Even if they don't believe it, I get that thought into their head. And it usually works like a charm.

Not with Ozy. That look he game me man... when he just said 'Before this moment I didn't even know your name'. Fuck. I know mind games are huge in wrestling, and especially for somebody like Ozy. But - I don't know. There's just something about him. That cold, unforgiving stare of malice. Those eyes, they haunted the dreams I had on that plane ride.

And I had a lot of dreams.

I remember the last one, vividly. I remember trying to get comfortable, the pain in my back from 'The World Ender' feeling like someone driving daggers into every column of my spine at different times, in different angles. I don't know if I feel asleep or passed out finally from the pain, but either way - when my tear-soaked eyes finally closed, the dream started immediately.



It was dark. Stormy. Rain covered the street causing rivers to run the length of the gutters into manholes. Lightning littered the sky, periodically cracking and illuminating the otherwise dim surroundings. It was as cliché as it gets, something right out of the nosleep forum. A scene that if you saw it in a movie, you'd think whether or not it was worth continuing this Syfy original or just go back to watching reruns of Friends.

But I was terrified. In the truest sense of the word.

I walked down the sidewalk, following the dense flow of the flooding street corners, and it was like walking through a painting. Step after step, it felt like nothing was changing. Every house was the same, but didn't look... right. The angles, they were off. And the construction of them made no sense. It was as if a 3 year old drew a house and it was brought to life and compiled and pasted dozens of times. The trees were the same too. There would be four or five different, then it's almost like they reset - besides the few tress that had branches reaching into the road, as if massive arms just waiting to pluck me off the soaking asphalt. It went like this for what felt like hours, until finally in the distance I could see a single lantern light flickering on a dock. I knew I shouldn't go to it. I actively attempted not to. I've seen Lionsgate man, I get what happens. But I didn't have a choice, and before I knew it I stood a mere fifty feet from the dock in what looked like a run down, abandoned fishing village.

Well. Abandoned proved to be a poor descriptor for this place.

I felt unseen eyes watching me from the dark every step I made. I figured I was paranoid, but I genuinely couldn't tell if the rainfall was messing with the acoustics, or if I was hearing extra footsteps off pace with my own coming from every pitch black shadow of the flooding beach. I remember seeing massive pikes and fishing spears, and as always in a dream, thinking I should grab one. But I didn't. The last thing I remember seeing before what happened next... was in one of the larger abandoned huts sat a cleaver.

...

A butchers knife.

...

Then - she appeared.

The specter of a woman, holding a small clay idle in her hands. I say specter, for I couldn't make out any of her features in the dark - and only assume gender due to the long billowing hair and their figure. It was as if she was blurry, I couldn't make out specific details on her...

... but I could see the totem in her hands perfectly.

It was like nothing my mind could comprehend. I could see it perfectly, unobstructed by shadow or distance - but I couldn't begin to tell you what it was. A statue of something, both foreign and familiar, colored a dark gray, dark red, and dark green all at the same time somehow. I remember it's eyes... I couldn't begin to count how many there were for at times it seemed two and at others it seemed a thousand... but they all seemed to be locked on me. And even though I couldn't see them, I knew her eyes were locked on me as well. I could feel them.

Wind tore through the village, seeming to even sway the sturdy wooden dock she rested upon, yet she stood unphased. As tidals of water crashed up against the dock and stinging gusts of wind cut against my skin; I was frozen in place. And it seemed other than her billowing hair and robe - she was frozen as well.

That is, until she lifted her arm.

Outstretched, seemingly reaching out to me, she stood for what felt like eternity. My chest felt heavy. My heart was pounding. I felt dizzy and nauseated... and I almost didn't hear it. I almost didn't see it. But I did. As she stood with her arm stretched in my direction, I heard the footsteps again. Figures, dark robed figures, emerged from the shadows on both sides of her. Some climbed up onto the dock impossibly, as if emerging from the turbulent sea it's self. Others just crept from the empty village houses, or from the shadowed trees of the forest... from everywhere. They were all shrouded in darkness, but somehow I knew there was something off about them too. Like the houses. They were humanoid, yes, but had strange aquatic features. Their limbs were too long and spindly. Their eyes looked slightly low on their face and entirely too big. And their eyes seemed to reflect the light, as did the bits of their 'skin' I could see. Appendages in places they shouldn't be, and they seemed to change height and weight with every step. They were impossible, but they were there.

And as they walked towards me, just as I felt as if I'd lose my mental faculties, succumb to insanity and lose consciousness... I finally felt my limbs give way, my paralysis lift, and I turned to run.

But I was stopped immediately.

There. He stood.

I didn't get to see him well. I didn't get to see him long. But he towered over me, and I knew... I knew in that moment the woman was not beckoning to me, but summoning him. The cold, dead eyes looked down at me through that mask... and I knew he had finally come for me as warned.

I collapsed.

I don't remember anything after that until I woke up in a hospital bed. A very familiar one, at that.




When I woke up, I knew instantly where I was. Not only was I in the New Hampshire Medical Center, but I was in the room I visited so many times weeks ago - Room 608. The room my dad was in when he was recovering from his episode.

I reached my hand up to dry the sweat from my forehead, and that's the first time I realized there was a sustained beeping next to my head. I looked over to see my heart monitor going through the roof, and nearly jumped out of my skin when the door swung open, and a thin nurse stood concerned in the door way.

"Mr. Jackson, is everything OK? Your vitals are going crazy... and you're as pale as a ghost." She was trying to stay calm and professional, but the look of worry on her face betrayed her attempt. I wasn't surprised, I'm sure I looked like hell after the plane, after the pain... after that... that dream.

"Yeah," I gasped out finally after taking a deep breath. "I'm fine. Just, just a bad dream I guess. Must be the pain killers." The nurse nodded, still not completely comfortable with my answer.

"Well... try to relax. You're in a lot of pain and these fits aren't going to help you any. I'm glad to see you're awake and talking though." Awake and talking?

"What do you mean? How, how long have I been here? I don't remember leaving the plane."

"You've been here for about 15 hours, but we're not sure when you lost consciousness on the plane." 15 plus hours?

"Jesus Christ, did I die?" I chuckled. She, of course, did not.

"No. You're just in a lot of serious pain. We have more tests to run, but it looks like you may have done some nerve damage to your spine. But there will be plenty of time to catch you up, get some rest, Cameron." I didn't have an answer right away. The nurse looked to leave, but then turned back quickly. "Oh, there's actually somebody here to see you. They've been waiting in the waiting room for you to wake up. Are you feeling up to it?"

I couldn't tell you why, but my heart sunk, and fear crept in.

"Um... yeah... sure." All I could think of was... him. What if he showed up at the hospital? What would stop him from finishing me off now and not having to worry about me at Night of Honor? Flashes of the dream raced through my mind as the nurse left... the humanoids, the clay statue clutched in the hands but... that woman. I peered around the room becoming increasingly more aware of how dark it was in here - of  all the shadows and blind spots. I was beginning to question everything too... is there something off about this room? What about the nurse... were her proportions correct? The lightheaded feeling started to return...

I jumped again as the door opened once more... and all I could see was the silhouette of a man in the door way...

"Well... I'd be lying if I said I was hoping to be back in this room this soon, Cam. But looks like you've done wonders for the decor!" The fear in my heart faded as my dad stepped into the room, with the help of his race-bike red rollator. I was a little bit shocked to see him make the trip out, but a lot bit relieved to see that it was him.

"Shit dad... what are you doing here? You're not in good health man, you shouldn't be making trips like this to see me." With a scoff and the dismissive wave of a hand, he gingerly lowers himself into the chair next to me.

"Oh horseshit. If you and Dougie can take up residency here to visit me when I'm here, it's the least I can do. I'm old Cameron, but not dead yet." He smiled, but the sentiment was real. However he moved on too quickly before either of us could dwell on it too long. "Anyway... what sort of trouble did you get yourself into now kid? You say I'm not in good health, but at least for once I'm not the one with a tube in my arm."

"Ahhhh Dad... I don't know man. I think I'm in over my head." Skeptical, he glanced at me but let me continue. "I thought... I thought I was getting close to making it, you know? To becoming the superstar I've dreamt of. It's as if all the stars aligned, but to get to them I have to just about kill myself. I guess I'm just, I don't know. I'm scared. I'm hurt. And I don't know if I have what it takes, you know?" Dad always knew what to say to cheer me up and was usually quick on his feet, but this time he paused for a long time. Finally, he put his hand on my shoulder, and looked into my eyes.

"Don't ever sell yourself short. There's millions of champions and thousands of superstars. Fear can be overcome, and pain is temporary.

But there's only one Cameron Jackson, and he's forever." A tear rolled down my cheek, and my dad and I chatted for quite a while.

But he was right...

Everything can be overcome. And I'll be damned if I made it this far to back down now.

---

Those last few words repeat over and over as the scene opens. Cadillac Jackson sits uncomfortably on a hospital bed, his cell phone in his hand as he plays the audio from last Proving Ground. With a small grimace Cadillac sits up, the plastic and unstable bed frame creaking bellow him as he does. A heart rate monitor beeps slowly and rhythmically next to the bed. Cadillac takes a moment to stretch his back, before looking up at the camera.

"What is dead may never die. Well, Ozy buddy, if it wasn't clear to you considering my surroundings you may not have killed me but you did a damn good job tryin'.

Now I've contemplated a lottttt of things since the night of August 27th when you lifted me above your head as if I were a child, and drove my spine into your knee like you were trying to break a twig. And fuck man, did you come close succeeding. Now I'm not proud of most the things I ended up contemplating - the first of which being the worst... because I genuinely thought about quitting. I thought to myself that if that's the way our match was going to go, that if I wasn't going to be able to phase you and that I was just going to be manhandled for the duration - was it even worth showing up? I've worked a long ass time and I've busted my ass to get to the point where I am today, so it's almost career suicide stepping into the ring with you Ozy. I get that. I'm not an idiot. I felt your power, and I could feel the hatred in your heart when you looked into my eyes and told me you had no idea who the hell I was. You may not have broke my spine, but you damn sure nearly broke me.

Here's the thing Ozy, and I know that this is opening a forbidden door in professional wrestling, or as a man or whatever. Fuck it, I'm a realist. You want the truth?

I was scared to death of you Ozymandias. Hell I still am. You're an intimidating dude, and you're one of a kind in the wrestling world. Most 'monsters' like you talk the talk, throw around 150 pound Target cashiers for a few months to pad their stats then fade into obscurity once they're defeated. But not you. You have one of the better records in Project Honor history. Most of your losses have either been at your own hands, or have been out of your control. Few people have the absolute rare honor of saying they've defeated Ozymandias. Meanwhile, you've racked up an impressive resume of victories. You've defeated almost everyone there is to best in Project Honor, in a rather short amount of time if we're being realistic.

Me? I don't even have a winning record. I almost have twice as many loses as I do wins. I've lost to people that, no offense to them, but I shouldn't have lost to. I've had my head in the game about 40% of my time here, and it's been straight up my own ass the other 60%. And I couldn't figure it out. I couldn't figure out what it was that I needed.

But then, I won the rumble, and I won the 'prize' of getting to face you, Ozy." Cadillac pauses for a long while, a first for the trash talker notorious for just spouting off the first things that enter his head. But this time, he seems to carefully search for the right words to continue.

"It's purpose. That's what I was searching for Ozy. I know that now because at first? I was pissed off that I won that match. The fighter, the wrestler, the man who yearns so badly for the spotlight wanted that win so badly... but I'll be completely honest in saying I didn't want it to be against you. I've watched what you've done to the likes of Mark Hunter, to the likes of Lil Petey, to both Will Riley and Mark Kelly in one God damn match. I didn't want that and I was pissed off because I knew I was going into a match that I wasn't going to win.

Plain and simple. Ozymandias vs Cadillac Jackson a month ago would have had one outcome and one outcome only - and that's The Butcher claiming another victim. But... the most incredible thing happened when you put your hands on me last week Ozy buddy. You tipped your hand. You showed me your cards...

You proved to me that you're human." Cadillac sits up more with a defiant groan of pain, his heart rate monitor beginning to rise. "You hit me with your best shot. You sent the nuke. And clearly, you hit. I'm fucked up Ozy. No way to pretty it up, a turd's a turd, and last week you damn near ended my career. But do you see this?" Cadillac takes a deep breath. "I'm still breathing. Do you hear this?" Cadillac pounds his chest. "My hearts still beating. And you've given me something that nobody ever has in this business, and that's a purpose Ozy. And with those three things keeping me going I'll be damned if I'm going to let you get away with almost ending my career. But you couldn't.

You can't.

You talk a lot about being a warrior Ozymandias and there's no doubt in mine or any bodies mind that you are one. One of the best to ever lace up a pair of boots. You are a warrior, but you're also flesh and blood. I may be on about a dozen different pain killers right now from one maneuver, but you reminded me that this isn't a horror movie. This isn't a supernatural thriller. This isn't R'lyeh mother fucker, this is the world of professional wrestling. So can I beat the battle worn Ozymandias in a street fight? Absolutely not. But can I beat him when the bell rings, we're inside the squared circle and thousands upon thousands of the people of Tokyo are blowing the roof off the Tokyo Dome expecting the match of a lifetime? You better believe it.

Call it false confidence, call it egotistical, call it whatever you want. But I believe everything happens for a reason. I believe I showed up in Project Honor, battled to prove my worth and eventually shock the world by winning the Opportunity Knocks battle royal... for a God damn reason. And that reason is to finally take down the dreaded Butcher once and for all.

And I know that I probably won't have the entirety of that Tokyo Dome behind me. I'm not ignorant in thinking that I've endeared myself to many fans. But that doesn't matter. I'm not doing it for them. I'm doing it for the fans who have been behind me since day one, and find me cheeky over the top arrogance entertaining. I'm doing it for my brother Doobie who has been busting his ass to work and train but still has always had my best interest at heart and has wanted nothing more than to see me succeed. I'm doing it for my dad, who's spent the past year in and out of hospital rooms but still has the time to be the only person in the world who believes in me more than I do. I'm doing this for my mom who passed away a few years ago, who hopefully is up there watching her boy live out his dream. I want to make all them proud...

and most importantly I want to make myself proud. I'm doing this to prove that no matter what obstacle gets in my way, if I put my mind to it I can be what I've claimed to be since day one I stepped into Project Honor - and that's the absolute best professional wrestler walking the planet. This is a dream that I've had since I was a little boy, sitting in his Gargoyle pajamas watching wrestling in my grandparents living room. That one moment is all I've ever wanted, to sit on my knees in the middle of a sold out crowd in one of the biggest arenas in the entire world, and to hold that championship gold in my hands. I don't care how long I hold it, I just need that moment.

And I'm almost there Ozy. I'm so damn close that I can taste it. I'm just fingertips away... but I know there's still one more mountain to climb before I can truly reach my destiny.

I may have gotten caught up in my own fairytale for a while, but Ozy brought me back to reality realllllllll quick. I know this isn't going to be easy. I know I'm not going into this match at 100%. And I know I'm risking not walking out of this match period, let alone with the Grand Championship. But now? That's a risk I'm more than willing to take. Because of you Ozymandias, I've learned the most important thing of my life.

Fear can be overcome, and pain is temporary.

But Cadillac Jackson is forever." There's a long pause as the heart rate monitor next to Cadillac's bed escalates, and he takes a moment to allow it to come back down. However, you can still hear a shaking determination in his voice as he continues once more.

"What is dead may never die.

I don't plan on you dying at Night of Honor Ozymandias.

But your 75 plus day reign as Grand Champion sure as fuck will."

Cadillac stares daggers into the camera, an unwavering sence of pride and readiness never leaving his face as the scene fades to black.

---

I packed my bag, counting the seconds until the nurse would be back to get this damn backless dress off me so I could change back into my clothes. This was probably the longest I'd gone in years without a nice polo shirt, and I was yearning for that man riding a horse to return to my chest. Plus, I had a lot of training and preparation to do for my Grand Championship match. I had been in here long enough, sure rehabbing my spine had kept me moving as much as possible, but I had to get the rust off. It's been years since I've missed this much time in the gym or in the ring training, and straight up, shit got old quick. I tucked my watch, sunglasses, and my toiletries into my duffel bag - along with three dinner rolls and some cranberry sauce that I've been storing away cuz, you know, fuck them.

As if on cue as I zipped up my bag, the nurse came in with a smile and a folder. "Alright Cameron, you're all set to go! Here are your prescription papers and files from your doctor. Make sure you keep up your rehab exercises and call your doctor if you have any questions!" As she spoke, I looked down at the papers she handed me. Typical doctor mumbo-jumbo... until I got to the 'Light Duty' form. She turned to leave, but I caught her in time.

"Uh, excuse me? What's this? It says light duty after two more weeks of rehab?"

"Yeah, that's for your employer to ensure you don't hurt yourself worse. Luckily the damage to your spine isn't as bad as we thought. Give it a month or so and you'll have a follow up, and if everything looks good then you'll be all cleared to continue working!"

"A month or two!? Are you kidding me?"

"I know, usually nerve issues take longer to heal, but I guess you're just lucky!" With a smile she turned and exited, my eyes still locked on the paper. I couldn't believe it, but there it was in black and white. I wasn't cleared to compete...

I spent a long time in that hospital room, figuring out what to do next before leaving the medical center. Outside, Doobie was waiting in the car to pick me up. We exchanged some pleasantries, and as we were leaving the parking lot, I pointed to a trash can on the side of a walkway.

"Hey Doobs, pull over real quick." He did as I asked, and I crumpled the light duty note up, and tossed it in the trash. Doobie eyed me curiously.

"What was that?"

"Just some trash I don't need. Let's roll, Doobs." Doobie was still skeptical but shrugged, and continued driving off. I didn't have time to explain it to him, nor did I want to spend one more second near that building, even in the parking lot.

After all - I had a flight to Japan to book.

End.