For The Story of it All

8:35 PM At 32,500 feet, an American Airlines Airbus-A380 sails across a sky overwhelmed with dark clouds and streaks of lightning. As its wings dip ever-so-slightly to the left, and then to the right in order to brace for the violent surges of turbulence, a whipping crack of thunder pierces through the sound barrier.

And then, darkness, followed by the snap of a beer can being opened. It was... it was going to be the first time she ever saw me jump. Across Niagara Falls, in fact. It was a... big deal.  'Course, her being there was more than fine for me, but she insisted on bringing a little bit of company with her.  Inside of the airplane, the rows are filled with resting passengers. Although there appears to be some turbulence, it's clear that the pilot, and the airplane, are doing their job in keeping things relatively copacetic within the cabin. A flight attendant slowly walks down the aisle, grazing the top of each seat with her hands before stopping in her tracks once she reaches Row 18, Seats C and D.

Sitting in these two seats are a young mother and her daughter - a pony-tailed, blue-eyed toddler who has her favorite Barbie doll in one hand and a sippy cup full of diluted apple juice in the other. The mother, a tall brunette with a ponytail of her own, is subconsciously tapping her flip-flop against the floor of the airplane as a tick to alleviate her nerves, until the flight attendant bends down and greets the two of them.

"My goodness! Is this a first-time flyer we've got here?"

The mother nods with a half-smile. "First time for both of us." She glances over at her daughter. "And she's clearly doing better than me."

"Awww, well don't you worry a thing, sweetheart. We'll get you to where you're going as safely as possible. How old is the little one?"

"Two - but acts like a five-year-old." The mother playfully pats her on the lap.

"Oh boy. I've got a three-year-old that's a handful herself! Any big plans once we touch down?"

She starts to explain but stops herself. Instead, she keeps it nice and simple.

"We're going to see her daddy."

"Awwww, that sounds nice! And what's your name?" [The flight attendant asks the little girl, but she's too busy gazing through the window. She's never seen a storm like this, and it was completely blowing her mind. So, the mother replies in her place.]

"It's Annabelle."

More darkness, followed by the snap of another beer can opening. The jump had gained an unprecedented amount of publicity and traction leading up to it - between media companies frothing at the lips over the ad potential, and news outlets seeing the words "HEADLINE NEWS' blinking in front of their mind's eye - the entire ordeal transformed into quite the frenzy at Niagara - well before my country ass was even due to be there, in fact.  Myles just kept tellin' me, for the month straight leadin' up to all of this, that if I kept my head on straight, we were set to earn a whole hell of a lot of money over time. That was money that I could use to make sure that my girls didn't have to worry about a single Goddamn thing again for as long as they lived. 

For the first time in forever, son, the world was starting to turn in my direction. 

And that's when the devil showed up.  9:05PM The weather surrounding the Airbus worsens, with thunder and lightning striking harder, faster; hovering and circling around this defenseless piece of metal that shelters the lives of more than a hundred. Inside, the affects from the external environment are now in full effect. It's become loud, and the plane's manic dips to manage the uptakes of wind have ultimately silenced those on board - stifled by the uncertainty of what happens next.

As the flight attendant attempts to make her rounds to make sure that all passengers are buckled in, the plane takes another unexpected dip to the left - forcing the luggage doors above the seats to unhinge, opening the floodgates for carry-ons of all sizes to start falling like boulders onto people that were already fearing for their life - as well as the flight attendant, who crumbles to the ground - directly besides the seats that Jennifer and Annabelle are buckled in. Jennifer, naturally alarmed, starts to unclip her seatbelt.

"Jesus, are you OK?"

"Please Don't!"

The flight attendant raises her voice, even surprising herself in the moment. "Please, ma'am, the two of you must remain in your seats and buckled, especially your daughter. For yours and her safety."

As the flight attendant gets to her feet, a voice comes through the cabin speakers. This is immediately followed by the SEATBELTS ON lights not just illuminating - but blinking red.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Captain James speaking. We must ask that everyone make sure that they are seated up-right, that all electronics and belongings be stored underneath the seat directly in front of you, and please ensure that your seatbelts are fastened. We are moving through very extreme weather conditions and things are going to get a bit rocky here for a bit. No worries however, as we'll get right through it and to your destination with minimal delay."

Jennifer follows the instructions given and puts Annabelle back into her seat, buckling her in.

"I'm sorry. She was just scared. Is everything... going to be alright?"

The flight attendant, now back to her feet, simply acknowledges Jennifer with a cautious nod before nearly sprinting back down the aisle to her stationed seat to buckle up and prepare for whatever was coming next. [Again, darkness.] You know what that devil said when he showed up?

He said, 'Harley, I dare you to have your cake and eat it too.'

The picture was too damn perfect for him. I couldn't possibly bask in the most important moment of my life without that moment being unscathed. He's always been there, peeking behind my shoulder, ready to lay a few brick walls in front of me just in case I get a little too far away from him. He ain't here to surrender to my success. He ain't here to celebrate my achievements, or wish me good luck in my future endeavors, son. He's here to stop everything - and before it even begins. 

He wanted to see me lose that night. He wanted to watch me break down until I was nothing but useless, leftover carbon. And then, only when my state of mind appears to be at its weakest, he forces me to look back at myself and all of my failures. From this reflection, he expects me to grind my spurs into the dirt until I completely stall out - until I ain't got enough traction to put it in reverse and at least start over. 

From there, he anticipates that I'll likely give in because that's the kind of person I am.

It's the kind of person I've always been. 

And reputation can be the lightning strike that takes the life right out of your sails, son. 

9:12PM Only a handful of minutes separate the moment that Captain James made his announcement to now.

The plane is showing signs of depressurizing, slipping forward at a downslope for a slight second before re-gaining altitude. There are now passengers bent over at the knees - some crying, some vomiting, some praying. The rumbling noises are initially sporadic, like Pacific waves crashing against the hull of a weathered ship, but quickly evolve to the repetitious roar of a steam train at full knots. Annabelle, and many other passengers, begin to unravel. Jennifer attempts to console her the best that she can through her own extraordinary panic, by simply placing her hand over Annabelle's and gently stroking the top of it with her thumb.

"It's alright, baby, it's alright. Momma's right here. Momma's right..."

Then, a random pop that seems to take precedence over the rest of the horrifying noises.

A pop that signifies the start of a window on Row 13 cracking, several times in several places, before exploding beside a passenger's face. Disoriented and bloodied, the passenger stumbles to his feet and attempts to make his way toward the aisle. As the flight attendant notices, she unclips herself from her seat in order to tend to him. Jennifer, having spent several years studying nursing before ultimately putting it aside to focus on Annabelle, begins to consider getting up to lend a hand. She squeezes Annabelle's hand to get her attention, and she looks over to her with tears still slowly rolling down her face.

"Listen, Momma is gonna try and help, okay? Can you sit here nice for me?"

Annabelle shakes her head, grabbing ahold of Jennifer's hand.

"You stay right here, Annie. Everything is going to be OK."

Jennifer gets to her feet, takes a couple of steps into the aisle, and that's when she becomes instantly blinded by the brightest light she's ever seen. This isn't just any ordinary lamp in the sky, mind you - this was a lightning strike - a direct hit to the Airbus' electronics system that causes a devastating chain reaction - starting with an immediate depressurization, a total loss of power, and the nose of the aircraft slowly sloping downward. Jennifer, and several other passengers no longer secured in their seats, are sent flailing across the aisle with zero control.

In her barreling toward the cockpit, Jennifer manages to grab a hold of a snagged strap of one of the fallen carry-on bags. While on her stomach, she looks up to see Annabelle standing in the middle of the aisle now. She starts to scream for her to sit down, but the howling of a doom-spiraling airplane blocks out her efforts. Jennifer uses all of her strength to get to her knees before holding her arms out and, once again, bellowing for Annabelle.

Yet Annabelle didn't move. She simply stood there, confused. Yall' never made it to Niagara Falls the next day.  I was set to jump by 11AM. Instead, I was woken up by a call in the dead of night. They said that your plane went through catastrophic failures after complications with a storm - that it had gone down, and that there were no survivors. 'Course, that had to be a crock of shit because... well, it just had to be. There was no way that the devil would have stooped so low to have taken away the few things that mattered the most to me.

But sure enough, that's exactly what that devil did.

And from there, everything else fell like dominoes - the way that he wanted it to be. I canceled the jump, turned away from all of the money, and isolated myself in that hotel room with enough liquor to kill me three times over. Through a streak of sleepless nights, I found myself on a tumblin' cycle of emotions - grief over the loss of my only true family, guilt from walking away when people counted on me to hold my chin up, and then anger - 

Why couldn't it have just been me? 

Why couldn't I have been on that plane, instead of two people that never deserved to experience something like that in their lives? 

But you know what? I never got those answers.  Just like my girls never got a chance to see their cowboy's big day. 

And boy, it took me a long ass time to learn how to live with that. 

But then... I did. Flashback ReVival 44 Nick Stuart: Walker from behind! Cannonball Run! Now he’s going to the top… RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!! Nick Stuart: The Guiness Record Breaker! Harley Walker with the cover! ONE! TWO! THREE! DING DING DING! This whole wrestling thing wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to crumble up in a ball, die, and hopefully be with the two of you - but I realized that the two of you wouldn't have wanted that. You'd have wanted me to get back up, no matter how many messes I slipped in, and fight for a reason.

A Goddamn purpose to live. 

Have I floated like a butterfly? Hell no. Flashback ReVival 45 Walker leaps to the top rope and falls backwards onto himself, landing atop Slade. He does not move, he stays on top of Slade and with the shoulders down, Ashley Barlow makes the count. ONE! TWO! THREE? Mr. Bubbles does not manage to break the pin in time. THREE! DING DING DING!  But as I've walked away from these two vicious battles, bruised and as tired as I could ever imagine being, I am reminded of the most important thing.  Yall' never got to see my show.  Until now. Boston Logan International Terminal A Present Day Massive windows reveal a tarmac filled with parked airplanes. Just a few feet in front of the windows is a bustling airport lobby filled with sprinting foot traffic, massive television screens alerting arrivals and departures, and endless rows of steel-gray bench seats. In one of those seats? Harley Walker himself, with a red, white, and blue bandana wrapped around his head, a cocktail that he snuck away from the airport bar in one hand, and a flight ticket in the other.

A round trip to Cardiff and back, in fact.

Surprisingly, Harley seems too distracted in his own thoughts to pay mind to the fact that his drink was still half-full. Not too surprisingly, there's a bubbling dread at the pit of his stomach as he stares out towards the machine that would take him 32,500 feet into the air.

A machine that took away everything Harley ever had, and nearly himself.

A machine that could ironically be the pulse of the vindication that Harley has been searching over twenty years for.

His big day - one on one with the legendary Coral Avalon - for the Alias Title. 

And even though earning that title would be sweeter than Yoohoo, it goes beyond the title.

It goes beyond Coral Avalon.

A slap to Harley's shoulder snaps him out of his daze.

It's Sly, with a large styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand and a bright smile on his face. It's been a few weeks since that fateful moment in Providence, when Sly offered to bring him to Boston for his next match. After everything that happened with Myles, the territory that Sly was crossing through was understandably dangerous - but as Sly said, he was a fan.

And during that stormy drive, on a straight, seemingly endless interstate route, Sly explained that he had seen Harley perform at the fairgrounds many years ago, when he was just a young boy. From that moment, he became enthralled by the concept of living life according to your own set of rules. This led him to great success as an investor, and then ultimately as a public relations specialist. He had always intended on working with Lightning Boy - specifically to lift him from the ashes that he was laying in, but he'd never admit that to him.

He just wanted to work with his icon.

And Harley let him in. Maybe it was because Harley was vulnerable, lonely, and silently pleading for someone to pull him away from the ledge before he falls over - but that was beside the point.

Harley let him in.

"Got you a..." Sly brings the cup closer to his eyes so that he can read the receipt that's taped to the side of it. "Iced almond matcha?"

Harley turns his head towards the coffee and then raises his eyebrow towards Sly.

"The hell's a matcha?"

"Honestly?" Sly studies the receipt again "I don't really know."

Harley lets out a deep breath through his nostrils and then turns back towards the airplanes.

"Drink my coffee black."

"See, that's exactly what I said to them and they looked at me like I was crazy. So I freaked out and just said the first thing that caught my eye, knowing that you probably weren't going to drink it."

"Then..." Harley closes his eyes for a second to concentrate on his thoughts. "Why'd you get it?"

"I....don't really know. You know what? I'll drink it."

"I got this anyways." Harley lifts up his cocktail before taking a sip. "Takes the fuckin' edge off a bit anyways with this airplane shit."

During that same rainy drive into Boston, Harley eventually felt comfortable enough to confide in Sly - going as far as explaining the entire incident with Jennifer and Annabelle. Because of that, Sly knows what Harley is going through. He walks around the row, tosses the coffee into the trash, and takes a seat next to the stuntman.

"When we supposed to take off anyway?" Harley asks, glancing at his ticket.

"We're due to board in fifteen minutes."

"Jesus Christ.." Harley takes another huge gulp of his drink before slouching back against the seat. "Gon' be straight with you, son. I don't think I can do this."

"What? Fight Avalon?"

"The fuck did you just say?"

"I thought that's what you meant."

"No." Harley sits back up, putting his drink down on the glass coffee table in front of him. "This..." He points at the glass windows. "Don't this... don't this all look like the devil's tryin' to irony fuck me?"

Sly chooses to hold off on responding for a minute in an attempt to make sense of that, but this doesn't last.

"Irony... fuck?"

"Right son, everything seems to be moving in full circle. Just wait, the next thing we'll see is lightning in the sky. Ain't supposed to be on this plane. Ain't supposed to be here."

Sly nods his head. "I get that. I completely get what you're saying, sir. But, if I may..." Sly turns toward Harley and scooches a few inches closer to him. "To say that you aren't supposed to be here is absurd, beyond the reasonable fears that you have. To say that... would mean that nothing that brought you here even mattered in the first place. Is that really how you feel?" ATTENTION TRAVELERS. BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT8675 BOSTON TO CARDIFF, WILL BE BOARDING IN THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES. "I don't know what the fuck you're saying to me right now, Sly."

Harley leans his head against the back of the seat and crosses his arms, as Sly tries to clarify.

"Adam Ellis? Kennade Starr? Dan Van Slade? You beat those guys. You didn't have to - and odds were greatly in your favor, but you know what? You beat them, Harley. You know what that means?"

It takes a moment, but Harley eventually looks up at Sly, showing just enough interest to willingly entertain him.

"What's that mean, Sly?"

"It means, my friend," Sly points towards the parked airplanes. "That you've only just begun. There's a legacy here, Harley - one that tragically slipped away from your fingers when you least expected it, and that's as awful as it gets. You told me in that car, before that second win - when everything started to feel real for you, that there were no expectations."

Fellow British Airways passengers begin to form a line at the ticket check-in.

"But you were wrong."

This initially strikes a chord with Harley, who is now fully staring down Sly, but he doesn't back down.

"Your expectation was always to finish the story that they missed out on."

ATTENTION TRAVELERS - WE ARE NOW BOARDING BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT8675, BOSTON TO CARDIFF, STARTING WITH PREMIUM ECONOMY. 

Harley doesn't stop staring at Sly at first. In fact, he seasons that up with a slow head-shake of... approval, before downing the rest of his cocktail. "Okay", he says through a rasp, before wandering ahead of Sly and toward the line. Without looking back, Harley follows up that approval with a cold splash of reality.

"Sly?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Don't ever say I'm fuckin' wrong again."

This stops Sly in his tracks.

His smile, a fleeting moment caught up in the passing wind now.

Did he just piss Lightning Boy off?

Then, Harley turns around and holds both of his hands out.

"You comin' or what, son?"

The color starts to return to Sly's face, as he lowers his shoulders down. For the moment, he's unwilling to smile as brightly as he did - purely out of caution - but he couldn't keep away at least a half-grin out of the interesting things that were bound to happen moving forward.

He had every intention of keeping Harley focused -

Not just on Coral Avalon.

Not just on the Alias Title.

But most importantly?

For the story.