The Final Stand

by Chuck Matthews June 17th 2009, 4:19 pm

Ashley Borden
DoB: December 21, 1991
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Brown
Current Residence: 13 Doleo Drive, Birchfield, Florida
-Born to Ted & Amy Borden
-Resides with Bill & Elise Jameson

Chuck scans his eyes over the rest of the paper. He slips it back into a folder, and tosses it in the backseat of his car.

Chuck has been on the road for almost a hour. He's been on the search for the young girl he met in the city. On Saturday, he received the file, giving him all the information he needed. Date of birth, hair color, photos, dental records...Chuck knew more about this girl than he ever thought he would need to know about anyone. He thought about the entire situation. It was a big favor he called in to get this folder; not just anyone could receive this kind of information. Chuck hoped he hadn't caused too much trouble to get what he wanted. It didn't matter. He'd make it up to her later.

Chuck glances in the rear-view mirror, and catches sight of the folder. He didn't know why he cared, really. Under normal circumstances, Chuck would simply leave things as they were, and move on with his life, with no remorse or sympathy. But this girl was different. It was strange. Ever since the stranger had mentioned her name, Chuck felt....almost a strange connection to the girl. Not in a Dwayne Hurst way, but...almost as if he had a duty to fulfill. Like he was supposed to hunt her down, talk to her, discover everything there was to know about her.

"One step closer to redemption."

By giving her a shoulder, he had come one step closer. How? How could such a petty action mean so much? It was this hunger for answers that drove Chuck on, down the dirt roads and through the swamps, in search of the young girl's home.

"Birchfield, Next Exit"

Chuck almost missed the sign. He pulls to the side and contiunues down the ramp. The ramp drives through a small town, then opens up into a long narrow stretch of unpaved road. The dirt and rocks crunch beneath the tires of the car. Chuck looks out at the horizon. It's all swamp land. There's nothing even remotely interesting about this place.

It's a couple minutes more before Chuck reaches the city. Birchfield is a shithole. The roads are paved, or at least they were at one point. Now, they're cracked and broken beyond all hope of repair. Houses look even worse. Most look abandoned. However, a few seem to be in living condition. Chuck slows down, looking for number 13. He quickly realizes another thing about Birchfield: The houses don't have numbers.

Chuck Matthews: "What the fuck..."

Every house is the same way. The mailboxes are marked with the family's last names, but in most cases these names have been peeled away or rotted out to the point that they are unreadable. Chuck drives down road after road, hoping to catch sight of anything that could give him a clue as to where the house may be. Eventually, Chuck is forced to give up. He pulls into the driveway of one of the better looking houses. Slowly, he gets out of the car and makes his way to the door. Before he even gets a chance to knock, the door flies open, and Chuck feels powerful arms push him off the porch and onto the weed-infested lawn. Chuck looks up, and is immediately blinded by the gleam of the sun, reflecting off a butcher knife.

Chuck Matthews: "This is the shit I put up with..."

The man looks at Chuck, hearing him muttering.

Man: "What you say?"

Chuck shakes his head.

Chuck Matthews: "Nothing."

He tries to get to his feet, but the man sends a hard kick to Chuck's gut, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him back to the ground.

Chuck Matthews: "Listen, I'm just looking for a house, alright?"

Man: "What you doing on my property? That's trespassin!"

Chuck Matthews: "Did you not hear what I just said? I'm looking for a house!"

Man: "Well unless you lookin for my house, you ain't got business here, do ya?"

The man kicks Chuck again.

Man: "You know what we do to tresspassers here?"

Chuck Matthews: "You kick them and wave knives at them, I'm guessing."

Man: "Are you getting smart with me?"

A hundred jokes run through Chuck's mind, but he decides now is not the time to use them.

Chuck Matthews: "Fine. Just tell me where the Jameson family lives, and I'll leave you alone."

Man: "What you want with them?"

Chuck Matthews: "It's not your business."

The man sends another kick to Chucks gut.

Man: "It's my business when I say it's my business. What you want with that family? They ain't never hurt nobody."

Chuck Matthews: "I just want to meet them. They're....cousins of mine."

Man: "You're lyin."

Chuck Matthews: "Am I?"

Man: "Yeah, you are. They got no family. Just the two of them and that rat they got livin with em."

Chuck Matthews: "The girl?"

Man: "Yeah, the orphan. I don't get why they don't just kill her and get it over with."

Chuck Matthews: "Kill her? Why?"

Man: "She's a rotten one, she is. Always runnin off with that other girl. She don't hardly do her work no more. They always fightin an' hollerin over there. She got no respect for her lovin parents."

Chuck Matthews: "Why don't the police do anything?"

The man laughs.

Man: "Son, there ain't no police in Birchfield! Look around! We're in the middle o' the goddamn swamp! Nobody cares about us here."

Chuck looks behind the man. An alligator slowly crawls out from beneath the man's house. It's massive, bigger than any gator Chuck's ever seen. Chuck nervousy points to it.

Chuck Matthews: "There's an...there's..."

The man turns around and laughs at the gator.

Man: "That old thing? It's been there for years. Lives under the house, it does."

The man pats the alligator's head. He laughs at Chuck's stunned face. He slips the knife into his pocket and helps Chuck to his feet.

Man: "You got a lot to learn, kid. I ain't gonna kill you. Never was. It's a nice town here, dirty as it appears to be."

Chuck looks at the man, trying to understand.

Man: "You thought I was gonna gut you alive. Because you saw the town, you saw me, and you thought of what you saw on TV, or what your schoolmates tell ya. Like I said, you got a lot to learn kid. Not everything is exactly what it's played out to be. Not everything is what it seems. But you know that already, don't ya?"

Chuck looks at the man. For a brief moment, a mask flashes across the face, as if the masked man himself had taken the man's place for a split second. Chuck shakes the image from his head. The man slaps Chuck heartily on the back.

Man: "The Jameson house is a few blocks off. You want to head down this road, and take the third left turn. Drive down a ways, then take a right. It's the second house on the right. Be careful, though. They ain't the friendliest people. Keep yer wits about ya."

Chuck nods. He shakes the man's hand, and gets back in his car. He drives past the houses, past the intersections. Third left. Chuck turns. First right. Chuck turns again. He slows down as he approaches the second house on the right. It's in horrible disrepair. The windows are boarded up. The paint is scratched up across the house. It might have been a beautiful white house back in better days, but now, it's almost black with dirt and grime and chipped paint. Chuck gets out of the car. The walkway up to the front door is covered with plants that have grown up between the cracks. The sidewalk now belongs to them. Chuck looks into the yard. It hasn't been mowed in ages. The grass tickles his knees as he walks by. Chuck looks at the front step. It's an old, wooden, moldy. Chuck tests it a bit with his foot. It lets out a loud groan. He throws fate to the wind and heaves his entire weight on it. It groans even louder, but doesn't collapse.

Chuck knocks on the door. It slowly opens, and Chuck finds himself face to face with a short, fat, balding man. Bill Jameson.

Bill Jameson: "What do you want?"

Chuck frowns.

Chuck Matthews: "I'm here to talk to you about-"

Chuck is cut off as Bill slams the door in his face. Chuck knocks again.

Bill Jameson: "Go away!"

Chuck Matthews: "I just want to talk."

Bill Jameson: "You have no business here. Leave!"

Chuck Matthews: "It's about your daughter!"

The door opens.

Bill Jameson: "Come in, please. I'm sorry."

Chuck slowly steps into the house. It reeks of musty old furniture. Bill guides his to the living room, where an old television sits on a small stand, trying to pick up a signal. Bill motions to the old sofa. Chuck takes a seat. He sinks into the cushion. The springs have broken. Bill sits down in an armchair.

Bill Jameson: "So, uh....about Ashley, you say?"

Chuck opens his mouth to speak, when a woman enters from the kitchen. She is short, like her husband, but is very thin. Her appearance is everything to her, judging by the heavy makeup and tacky clothes.

Elise Jameson: "Bill, did Ash- Oh...who's this?"

Bill Jameson: "He's here to talk to us about Ashley."

Elise sits on the arm of the chair, and puts her hand over her chest.

Elise Jameson: "Oh, whatever that little monster did, I'm terribly sorry."

Chuck raises his hands.

Chuck Matthews: "It's okay, really. She didn't do anything wrong."

Bill and Elise sigh in unison.

Bill Jameson: "Well, what's there to talk about? She didn't win an award, did she?"

Chuck Matthews: "No, no, sorry."

Bill mutters something under his breath. Elise simply stares at Chuck.

Elise Jameson: "You look familiar..."

Bill looks at Chuck and shrugs.

Bill Jameson: "So...What exactly is it you wanted to speak to us about?"

Chuck Matthews: "Well, truth be told, Mr. Jameson...I met your daughter a few days ago in Miami-"

Bill Jameson: "ASHLEY!"

Chuck is startled by the sudden angry outburst. Within moments, Ashley enters the room. She is dirty, nothing like the girl in the city. Her face is smeared with dirt, and her hair is tied back, and is messy and not as shiny as it was a few days back.

Ashley Jameson: "What is it?"

Bill Jameson: "Were you in Miami a few days ago?"

The color drains from Ashley's face.

Ashley: "Yes..."

Bill stands and walks to the girl and slaps her hard across the face. Ashley falls to the ground.

Chuck Matthews: "Hey!"

Bill Jameson: "What have I told you about sneaking out? Is that why you didn't get your work done? Too busy with that whore friend of yours?"

Bill slaps her again. Chuck stands up and storms towards Bill. Bill raises his hand to hit Ashley a third time. Chuck grabs his arm.

Bill Jameson: "What are you doing?"

Chuck Matthews: "What has she done wrong?"

Ashley stares in shock at Chuck. Elise looks from Ashley to Chuck.

Elise Jameson: "I know who you are! You're that wrestler! The one Ashley loves so much!"

Ashley turns beet red. Bill looks at her.

Bill Jameson: "Is this true? What is a celebrity doing in our house?"

Ashley: "I...I don't know."

Bill Jameson: "You lying little bitch..."

Bill stomps on Ashley's arm. She screams in pain. Bill shakes his hand free from Chuck's grasp. Chuck watches in horror as Bill grabs a lamp from the tabe beside him and swings it down on any part of the girl he can reach. Ashley is crying loudly. Without thinking, Chuck catches Bill's arm again. He tries to shake free, but Chuck's grip is too strong. With the right twist, a sick crunch is heard as Bill's arm breaks. He shouts loudly. Chuck catches his shoulder to Bill's gut, and the two go crashing into the TV set. Elise screams as the TV falls from its stand and breaks as it crashes down on her husband's head. Chuck picks up Ashley from the floor and carries her to his car. She appears to be slipping out of consciousness.

Ashley: "Mr....Mr. Matthews...."

Chuck Matthews: "Shhh....It's alright."

Chuck straps her in the passener seat. Within minutes, they're on the road leaving the house behind.

by Chuck Matthews June 17th 2009, 4:19 pm

----------------------------------------

Chuck sits in his living room. A few hours ago, he dropped Ashley off at the hospital, where she was immediately taken into special care. Chuck was assured that she would be kept there until she was fully recovered, at which time she would be handed to the police. They would determine Ashley's future until she came of age.

Chuck Matthews: "One step closer to redemption..."

Chuck buries his face in his hands.

Chuck Matthews: "You have become the king of bad timing, Frank. This is twice now, you've come in right when I'm preoccupied by other things. But it's fine."

"I don't really understand though. You were the North American champion, but you hit a slump. You lost on Legacy. You came to Direct Hit and lost to Alex Mark. The next week, you beat me. Then you went into another slump. You went to Legacy and lost to Swan Lee. Now you're back on Direct Hit, and once again, you face me. Suddenly you care about the match again. I'm not sure what it is. Something about facing Chuck Matthews really kicks your ass to work for a victory. But that's fine. I'm not complaining. If anything, I'm applauding you. It brings a smile to my face to see someone with no regard for Legacy come back and help bring Direct Hit to the top."

"In essence, that's what we do, isn't it, Frank? We put on a show. Sure, I have my problems. You have yours as well. But at the end of the day....we're both wrestlers. You spent all this time telling me how much you respect me. How much I've done for this business, how much I deserve a shot at the Universal title. I'll agree, the feeling is mutual. I can count the number of people I have huge respect for on one hand. You've become one of those elite few."

"That being said, don't think I've gone soft here. I'm not the same man you met last month. In this short time, I've gone to hell and back. I've fought with some of the best, I've beat some of the best, and all while wrestling an eternal match within my own mind. When I walk down the ramp on Saturday, I will not be the Chuck Matthews we all know and love. I won't be the Chuck Matthews you've seen this past month. Why? Because I have a new threat to worry about, and Frank, it isn't you. For the last few weeks, I really haven't taken this too seriously. But now that the time draws so close, I can't help but feel a bit afraid."

Chuck peels away his shirt, revealing the burn on his chest.

"Three Days Remain"

Chuck Matthews: "Look at it. LOOK AT IT! Three days. Three fucking days. If this mark has any meaning, if the hallucinations, the dreams, the voices have meant anything, it means that my match against you, Hart, will be my last. Do you not understand what's going on here? Have you paid any attention? Hart, it doesn't matter if I win or lose this week. It doesn't matter if I retain my title. If all this shit is for real, Saturday will be the last time anyone sees my face. Do you understand, Frank? I'M NOT COMING BACK."

"Yes, I will fight on Saturday. Yes, I will fight to win. But unlike all previous fights, there's nothing to look forward to after the fact. I don't need to 'comserve energy' for Simple Survival. I don't need to keep an eye out for a sneak attack from Kaos. I don't really give a fuck who you bring to the ring, be it my ex-girlfriend, my dead dog, or even my own mother. This match means everything. All my hard work speaks for itself. It all rests on this last match. Not just my NLWF work. Not six months, but six grueling years. Six years of dominance in the wrestling ring, all on the line this Saturday. To make a long story short, Frank...there's nothign I won't do to ensure I leave with a good mark. And with Chuck's Law on my side, contrary to your belief, the scales are tipped in my favor."

Chuck looks to the sky, sighing.

Chuck Matthews: "You were right about one thing, Frank, and one thing only. This Saturday will be the last time we meet. My only consolation is that my final match is against a man that I know will make it the best damn show the fans have ever seen. Goodbye, NLWF. I have nothing left to say."

The Final Stand

The Final Stand

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