The Intersection of Want and Need

August 14, 2022

“I’m sorry honey. I know ya want me t’quit wrestlin’. But this is somethin’ I need t’do.”

“Need to, or want to?”

“What?”

“Mommy says there’s a difference between wanting something and needing something. So do you need to, or do you just want to?”

“...It's both, baby.”

______

December 4, 2023

Paxton stood four feet from the doorway of the newly rebranded MESSIAH Wrestling Academy. It rested in the same parking lot as before, and the structure of the building had not changed, but everything else made Paxton feel like he was walking into a new universe as he finally walked inside.

Pat Gray was a fan of the color red, and it had permeated from the outside in. The pervasive colors were now silver and green. Any photo that had once hung – of Foster, of Jon, of the countless students who had come in and out of the school since the early 90s – was replaced by the MESSIAH logo, a green French-inspired M with the words “FOREVER THE CROWN” underneath.

And the photo at the end of the hall, the one that overlooked the trophies and belts in the now-gone memorabilia case, the photo of the man who started everything, had been replaced by a painting of the Director of MESSIAH, grinning wolfishly out on the renovation he had put into place.

Paxton frowned, then walked past what used to be the conference room, the one where he, Jonathan and Shweta had come up with plans to raise money for Nora’s treatment. The door was closed, and he heard construction work going on behind the door. He walked towards it, but he was intercepted by Bertrand Ward.

The short, stocky man grabbed Paxton’s hand firmly and clapped him on the shoulder. “Paxton, my boy!” Bertrand shouted, displaying an enthusiasm that the Bayou Butcher had not seen before.

“Your boy, huh?” Paxton took his hand back. “Ya sure look happy.”

“How could I not be happy, young Paxton? Today is the first day in a monumental era. The MESSIAH Wrestling Academy has launched! And Director Bathory, in all of his generosity, has appointed me the first ever commissioner and director of this place. I am overwhelmed with gratitude, and I have you to thank.”

“Me?” Paxton asked as the pair began to walk to the main hall.

“Yes, of course. You were the one who needed MESSIAH to locate your daughter. You invited us in and allowed us to truly change this place for the better.”

“An’ in return ya stole my daughter,” Paxton grunted, slamming his hand against the hallway wall. Paxton pulled his hand to his mouth quickly. “Damn that hurt.”

“Yes, we decided to replace the walls with something heavier so that errant fists did not puncture them like they seemed to during the old tenure.” Bertrand’s legs started to pump faster as he inched away from Paxton. “And please do not say we stole young Nora. We are keeping her safe, like she deserves to be. I promise you she is safer in MESSIAH’s hands than with that odious luchador from Philadelphia.”

Before Paxton could answer, the new Academy director pushed open both doors to the open gym. Paxton expected the light to shine into his eyes like it usually did during a morning workout: however, the inside of the main hall was dark and shady. The windows that had once been wide open were adorned with blackout curtains featuring the MESSIAH logo, and each ring had been replaced with a newer version. Paxton looked around to see activity and snorted. “Small class, ain’t it director?”

“We do not fill our gym with unworthy recruits simply to pad the numbers,” Ward said. “We have four incredibly talented students, and one student-coach – that would be you, of course.”

“I’m a coach?” Paxton asked.

Bertrand continued to speak, ignoring the Butcher. “We took the former register at Gray’s and trimmed the fat, then added a bit of our own. You may be familiar with two of the students.”

Paxton walked forward and looked up at Theodore Boswell, who glowered down on him. Then he looked past Boswell to Quinn Fleetwood, who was leaning against the ring ropes in the far ring. “Hey Quinn.”

“Hey redneck.” Quinn twirled in a slow circle, modeling his new wrestling gear adorned with the MESSIAH logo. “Look at me, I’m in a cult now!”

“Surprised you came,” Theodore said.

“Gotta go somewhere,” Paxton answered, looking past him to the other student stretching. She was tall and lean, with dark hair pulled up into a bun. She looked at Paxton for a second before continuing her routine. “Hey, I’m Paxton.”

“Do not care,” she answered in a German accent, continuing to stretch.

“She is Petra Brandt,” Bertrand said with a smile. “MESSIAH recently saved her from a dire situation, and now she is in a new country with a new purpose. Forever the crown.”

“Forever the crown,” Theodore and Quinn quickly answered.

Paxton stared at the two men for a moment before answering. “She’s awful friendly, ain’t she?”

“Well, we didn’t intentionally seek out wrestlers with abrasive personalities, but at least you will feel at home. There is one more wrestler who you haven’t met, but he won’t be here today.” Bertrand Ward held his arms out, gesturing for Paxton to look throughout the gym. “So, Mr. Butcher, do you find your new home adequate?”

Paxton shrugged. “Same bones, jus’ a different asshole in charge and a new coat a’paint.”

“Ah,” Bertrand responded, his eyes twinkling, “I feel that is a bit reductive. MESSIAH Wrestling Academy is a completely different place than its predecessor, and we continue to work to make improvements.”

“Is that what’s goin’ on in the conference room?”

“Precisely. You see, this will be more than just a wrestling school. This will be a place where people feel comfortable to stay, to learn, to grow. And so instead of a conference room that collected dust during the old regime, we now have created a multimedia room so our messages can reach the people who need us most.”

Bertrand started walking back towards the room, so Paxton took one last look at his new students, then turned to follow him. “What kinda messages?”

“Oh, many kinds. Videos about hope. Recruitment videos for our academy and our cause in general. And we will also use it for our student-teacher to record his promotional material for his matches in PRIME.”

It took Paxton some time to realize who Bertrand was referring to. “Ya want me t’cut promos in there?”

“Again, your comprehension is astounding. Yes, Paxton, you will be using the multimedia room to declare to your opponents how you will destroy them in MESSIAH’s name, starting with Rich Patterson.”

“Wait, wait, Bertie–”

“When we are within these halls I would appreciate it if you referred to me as Director Ward.”

Paxton raised his eyebrows. “Director Bertie – listen. I ain’t much for the promo stuff anymore. An’ I definitely ain’t gonna say anythin’ in MESSIAH’s name. Only name I care about is my own.”

As they neared the construction area, Bertrand Ward bowed his head. “Director Bathory was afraid that you would say something along those lines. The fire within you is admirable and it has given you much strength over the years. However, a simple warning: there are some places you shouldn’t direct that fire towards, lest you start a fire you cannot put out.” Ward looked up at Paxton with a glare that he had not seen before in the older British gentleman.

Just as suddenly, it vanished, and his eyes were kind again. “All the same, Director Bathory has offered something as incentive for you to use this room today. If you have a conversation Mr. Patterson via our camera in there, you will also have another conversation today with someone who you desperately want to talk to.”

Paxton’s eyes went wide. “Nora?”

“Indeed. Record your promo, run a brief workout with your new students, and I’ll have her on the phone for you. Think of what you want to say to both parties, and by the end of the day you’ll hear your daughter’s voice again.”

_______

“All right Rich. This thing started with red, and it’s gonna end in red.

“I apologized for it once, and I’m gonna do it again jus’ in case ya were too busy readin’ your PRIME Wrestlers Morality Guide for Dummies book t’hear me. I’m sorry I spilled buffalo sauce on ya.

“It was an accident. I didn’t know who the hell ya were, and my hand moved a bit too fast. That’s somethin’ I still feel bad for, and if ya can’t ever get it outta your shirt, then I’ll buy ya a new one someday. I know sometimes oil and grease are killers to get outta fabric.

“Know what else is tough t’get outta fabric? That other red liquid. An’ I gotta tell ya, buddy: when we face off at Night 2 in my backyard? There’s gonna be a whole lotta it in your clothes when I’m done, and I ain’t gonna apologize for that, because you’ve earned every bit of it.”

_______

An hour later, Paxton left the multimedia room and walked towards the locker room, his backpack slung over his shoulder. As he neared it, he realized it had been split into two separate rooms. Petra walked out of the right side and regarded Paxton coolly.

“Guess we gotta have separate locker rooms now,” Paxton said. The German woman shrugged and started to walk away. “Hey. Not sure what kinda bug ya got up your ass, but if we’re gonna be workin’...”

She stopped and held up a hand quickly, bringing it inches from his face. “We will not be working together. We will be working alone in the same space. I do not know where they dragged you from, and I do not care. I am here to train and sign with an American promotion. I am not here to work together with you.”

Paxton’s eyes slowly moved to where her hand hung in the air, then smiled. “They got somethin’ on ya, don’t they?”

Lowering her hand, Petra frowned. “I do not know what you’re talking about.”

“Ya ain’t a zealot like Theo, or a kiss-ass like Quinn. When they did the whole cult catchphrase bit, ya didn’t say nothin’. So they got somethin’ on ya.” She didn’t answer, but her gaze softened and drifted to the floor. “‘S all right, they got somethin’ on me too. See, I got a daughter. An’ if I ever wanna see her again, I gotta be a good boy. Cut promos. Hold the MESSIAH banner. Train pieces of shit like ya.”

“So that is it, then? You will just be good lap dog?”

“Nah, not forever.”

Petra raised her eyebrows. “So you have a plan?”

Paxton suddenly found the floor interesting as he inspected the hardwood. “Uh, not yet.”

“Then you are just a lap dog. I don’t talk with lap dogs.” She walked towards the ring.

“I’d love t’hear your plan, then,” Paxton said, causing Petra to stop in her tracks. “Thought so. Woof woof.” Smiling, Paxton went into the locker room to change.

_______

“Ya admitted t’bein’ an antagonist t’me at the last show. You’ve basically said nothin’ but mean things t’me since we met. An’ the crazy thing is, you’re prob’ly still sittin’ there today thinkin’ I was outta line for physically introducin’ ya to the caterin’ table. All ‘cause who the mean words were aimed at.

“Ya kinda remind me of the masked fuck who stole my daughter last year. You’re allowed t’be an asshole ‘cause you’re actin’ that way to another asshole. An’ sure, that may pass the smell test for the people in the stands, but let’s be honest – their noses ain’t too strong. Bottom line, ya asked for me to hurt ya ‘cause ya couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut.

“I get it though. You’re a new guy who wanted t’make his mark in the company, an’ even more than that, ya ain’t a typical new guy. What’re ya, ten years older than me? So it ain’t like ya got a lot of time left. So yeah, ya see the big bad wolf an’ think it’s your place to call out his behavior. 

“But here’s the thing, Rich. In every story where there’s a troll, or a dragon, or a monster of some kind, it’s always the knight who was wronged somehow that saves the day. Somebody who lost a family member, or is tryin’ t’save his love. It ain’t the random outhouse cleaner who runs in wavin’ his toilet brush like a goddamn sword.”

_______

Paxton’s first workout in MESSIAH Wrestling Academy felt good. His movements felt crisper, his mind felt clearer. Part of it may have been the freshness of the new ring, or maybe having a different sparring partner in Petra. But as he toweled off and walked towards the front, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Y-you look happy,” he heard from behind, causing him to jump and drop his towel.

“What the–” Paxton looked behind him and shook his head. “Dith, what the fuck are ya still doin’ here?”

Aaron “Dith” Timble shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Nobody else wants to wash a bunch of wrestling tights.”

“An’ ya do?” Paxton asked, wrinkling his nose.

“N-not really, no,” he said. “But it’s a job.”

Paxton turned fully so he could take in the longtime gym assistant, a man who he had looked past, around, or through for their entire relationship. It was easy to see why, as the small man in front of him barely cast a shadow. “Tell me, Dith. Ya been here for decades. Every new trainer, you’re still here. Now you’re stayin’ here with a shady group a’people. Why?”

“I-I could ask you the same question,” Dith answered.

“Oh, they kidnapped your daughter too?” Paxton spat.

“No, s-sorry.” Dith looked down at his feet, withering under Paxton’s glare. “I g-guess people know I’ll do whatever they tell me to do.”

“That didn’t answer my question. That’s why people keep ya around. Why do ya stay? Do ya actually like bein’ bossed around, talked down to, ignored?”

Dith looked up for a moment, then looked down again as soon as his eyes met Paxton’s. “Of course not,” he said. “I just d-don’t know what else to do. A long time ago, when Foster took over, I got tired of him being mean to me every single day.”

Paxton snorted. “Foster’s an asshole.”

“They all are,” Dith said. “Pat, Jon, Foster, MESSIAH – they all treat me the same. But I told myself that I was going to stand up to Foster, to show him he couldn’t dress me down like Pat did. I…I told myself I was going to punch him in the face.”

“An’ then what happened?”

After a few seconds, Dith shrugged. “Nothing. I never stood up for myself. I kept telling myself tomorrow would be the day, the day I’d say something. But it never came. And then…I just stayed here.” Dith kicked at the towel on the floor. “It doesn’t matter who’s in charge here. It just matters who isn’t. I’m not in charge, and I’ll never have the courage to change that.”

Paxton didn’t respond as Dith continued to stare downward. Finally, the smaller man picked up the towel. “Director Ward says the hallway has to be clean. I gotta go.”

Paxton watched him walk away, then locked eyes with Petra across the gym. He looked away suddenly, then saw Bertrand walking up to him.

“Great workout, Paxton. And now, as promised…” Bertrand grabbed Paxton’s arm and gently led him down the hall to a room where a phone was sitting on a desk. “Your reunion awaits.”

_______

“That’s who ya are, Rich. Ya ain’t a hero. Ya haven’t put in the time and effort. Not here, anyway. I hate Jared Sykes, but that man suffered for this. He earned my anger, gettin’ in the ring with me. He can call me a shitty person because’a what I did t’him, t’his friends. But a few weeks ago he forgave me. We ain’t ever gonna get beers together, but we closed a chapter.

“Ya ain’t Colton either. He had a right t’hate me for what I tried t’do t’his sister. An’ even then he forgave me too. He did it a little cautiously, and I understand it, but he at least saw my sincerity.

“An’ then there’s you. A guy who ain’t got no beef with me ‘cept some chicken. A guy who has no friends or family who I’ve wronged. But ya run your mouth ‘bout my terrible past and my terrible acts an’ ya think ya got some sorta right t’come at me? Last year ‘round this time I had the entire damn roster breathin’ down my neck t’earn a piece. But ya weren’t here for that. Ya came late t’class an’ still think ya can get full credit for singin’ the same lines everybody sang before.

“But the tune is changin’, Rich. I ain’t tryin’ t’hurt anybody anymore. Not permanently, anyway. I ain’t a perfect man an’ I never will be, but I finally understood that t’get the things I want – nah, the things I need the most, I needed t’push down the anger that’s been burnin’ in me for as long as I remember. 

“An’ I still plan on doin’ that. But when it comes t’ya? I think I can let the anger out one more time.”

_______

Paxton stared at the phone for a moment, then slowly brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

The silence on the other end felt suffocating before he finally heard a small voice. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, baby. It’s me.” Paxton felt his eyes grow wet and closed them. “It’s daddy. How are ya?”

“I’m okay. I miss mommy. They let me talk to her yesterday.”

“How is she doin’?”

“She misses me too.”

Paxton wiped his face. “I know she does. I miss ya too. I miss ya terribly. So…are they treatin’ ya well there?”

“Yes. There are some kids my age here. I don’t like all of them though.” After a few moments, Nora asked, “Are you on the same team as the people who I’m staying with?”

“That’s…that’s a complicated question. I jus’ need t’help them out a little bit.”

“Need to? Or want to?”

Paxton put the phone down for a moment and bit his finger tight, closing his eyes to try and stop more tears from coming. “I promise ya baby. I don’t wanna. I need to. I’m so sorry this all happened. I’m sorry for everythin’. An’ I know ya prob’ly won’t forgive me, but I’m gonna do anythin’ t’become better for ya.”

Paxton heard a shuffling on the other side, then Nora’s voice saying something to someone else. When she came back, her voice was lower. “They say I have to go. They also said if you’re good, you can call me again.”

“Well I guess I gotta be good then,” he said, smiling. “I love ya, baby girl.”

Once more Paxton felt his throat close as the silence consumed him. Then: “Love you too, Daddy.”

Paxton felt more tears come out as he put the phone down. He sat there for what felt like hours until he finally felt the strength to stand up. When he turned around, he stared into the dark eyes of Julian Bathory.

“Your Director always provides, Paxton.”

Paxton looked from the phone to Bathory, then in one swift motion punched The Carpathian Devil in the jaw.

_______

“This feels good, Rich. It ain’t like the last few matches I had. I ain’t itchin’ t’kill ya, or t’tear ya limb from limb. I jus’ wanna beat ya down a little. Show ya that ya were wrong. Show ya that maybe when a guy spills somethin’ on ya and says sorry, ya jus’ say it’s fine and buy a new shirt.

_______

The retribution was swift and mostly painless. Bathory just smiled as two nameless MESSIAH goons tossed Paxton out of the gym. “I will see you here tomorrow, and please limit your punches to wrestling students,” Bertrand Ward said as the doors closed.

Paxton walked towards his car, sparing one last look at the new Academy. He saw Petra Brandt leaning against her car and surveying him with a smile. “Looks like this lapdog has a little bite.”

“Oh, ya ain’t see nothin’ yet,” Paxton said as he got in his car.