Originally posted by
Shawn.
Randy Ramon & Chris Crowe (Rock Show) Buddy Bowl Promo 
“TWO TICKETS TO THE ROCK SHOW” Prologue
Back in Business XVI
July 2022Rod Sterling: Randy doesn’t care. For the love of god, send someone out there - referees, officials, anyone. This has gone far enough. This was never a match, this was never a fight. There was only ever going to be one outcome. This was a prolonged slaughter.Randy Ramon: We... Are not... Done... Yet...He pulls Krash up, by the necktie, screaming in his face.
Randy Ramon: GET. UP.Krash weakly paws at Randy’s grip, breathless, his voice barely above a whisper/
Krash: Randy-
Randy: I said get up!
Krash: Randy... I give up.It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Randy squints in disbelief, his voice horse.
Randy Ramon: What?
Krash: I... give up... I surrender... I forfeit... I give up, Randy.Randy stares incredulously, his head shaking ever so slightly.
Krash: I’m done, Randy... It’s over. You win.
Rod Sterling: Thank Christ. This is over, folks. Send in some officials to help these two men back to the arena. Someone’s gotta be injured.The words don’t seem to have an effect on Randy, as he stares at the man he has fought for so long at this point. Krash’s bleak, exhausted eyes stare into his, as Randy lets loose on his grip, his hands falling to his side. There is no feeling of victory. The feeling is hollow. Empty. Randy slowly sits himself down on the lakebed, barely feeling the water caressing his being. On his hands and knees, Krash coughs.
Krash: I hope... You found... What you were looking for.There is a long pause. Randy squints. His face is troubled, unsatisfied.
Randy Ramon: ... No. I don’t think I did.A shadow of an emotion flickers over Krash, unreadable in the dark of the night. It could be pity. It could be dismay. It could be understanding.
Depending on what side of the fence you sit on, it could even be devious. In the night, it's too dark to say for sure.
Krash: ... Ah. I guess... I guess we’re not over, then.
Jean-Luc Watkins: No-!Before Randy Ramon can react, Krash throws himself, and locks in the Discordant Serenity! Randy splutters, as Krash cinches it in tighter and tighter!
Krash isn’t letting go!
Rod Sterling: What is this?!? I thought it was over!
Jean-Luc Watkins: Randy issued this challenge to find a very specific answer, one that he hasn’t found yet. If he hasn’t found it, then it’s not over... And Krash knows that.The two struggle! Randy flailing, Krash tightening his grip with all he has left! Randy loses his balance, stumbling into the water!
There’s a startled cry!
A splash!
Then silence.
The murky waters of the lake of Quinta da Boa Vista slowly settle, gently lapping at the lakebed of the park.
Seconds, then minutes pass.
No figure emerges from the deep.
We cut to black…
Randy (internal monologue): “Hold my breath as I wish for death; oh please god, help me.”
……or at least, we did. But little did we know, there was a commotion brewing under the water.
After a beat, Randy is able to break free of the hold. He has taken a beating, and his lungs ache for oxygen. Desperation set in as he struggled to maintain his composure, but in that moment he knew that he would not be able to make it back to the surface in time. He couldn’t give up, he wouldn’t, but he was about out of options.
He flailed his arms in panic, praying for a miracle. Just as it seemed he would succumb to the relentless weight of the water, his fingers brushed up against something unexpected. There, on the river floor, he felt a metallic object. With the last reserves of his strength, he seized it. It was a trident, an ornate weapon with an otherworldly aura.
In the heat of the moment, the trident felt strangely cold to the touch. Without fully comprehending what was happening, he clung to it. In that instant, a surge of energy coursed through him, and the trident began to glow with an ethereal blue light. His eyes lit with wonder as he took what he imagined would be his final breath.
But as he held the trident, a powerful whirlpool materialized around him, swirling with increasing intensity. The water that had been his foe moments ago now appears to be his panacea, obeying his every command. With a thunderous roar, the whirlpool consumes him, creating a vortex that extends from the floor and engulfs him.
In the blink of an eye, he has vanished. Hours and days would be spent searching for his corpse, but none would be found. None would be found, because there was no corpse to leave behind. Some believed it was an elaborate stunt, a “pull back the curtain” moment that Randy had used to disappear from the public eye. Others assumed he slipped out of the river when no one was looking.
But the truth was far stranger than anyone could have imagined. He had not drowned; it was not an elaborate ruse. Instead, he had been teleported to an unknown place. The trident he had clung to was more than a mere prop; it was a conduit to powers beyond human understanding.
Chapter 1
Parts Unknown
The Year 20XXThe scene is dark. A bleak and desolate era marked by the ravages of a never-ending war. Skies heavy with smoke cast a pall over the landscape, and the crumbling ruins of once-thriving cities bore witness to the relentless conflict that had plunged the world into chaos. In the midst of this grim tableau, a figure materializes, seemingly out of thin air, disoriented and bewildered.
Randy Ramon finds himself standing in the heart of a war-torn city, his bright, soggy clothes a jarring contrast to the grim reality that surrounds him. He had been enveloped by a strange, bluish glow while locked in an underwater battle with Krash, and now he was here, transported, disoriented and out of place. His hands are empty, no visible signs of the trident that brought him here.
He stumbles through the debris-strewn streets, the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions filling the air. Everything around him seems alien, and the eerie silence that follows the sounds of battle only deepens his disorientation.
Where is he? Where is Krash? Assuming that trident created that whirlpool and led him to this place, is Krash here too? If not, then does the fact that he’s in this place and Krash is still in the river mean that Randy… won? Though he’s been removed from the time and place of his epic battle, the urges of rage and hate and vengeance still flow through him as thick as the blood that keeps him alive.
The only thought that keeps running through his mind is an unmitigated desire to return to that place and make sure that the job was finished. He may not have found the closure he was looking for, but he could be damned sure that Krash didn’t find what he was looking for, either.
As he fumbles along the desolate street, a sudden shout from behind makes him freeze in his tracks. He turns to see a group of heavily armed soldiers emerging from the shadows, their faces etched with weariness and suspicion. They encircle him, their weapons trained on the bewildered intruder. It is at this moment that he realizes the reasoning for their hostile approach: he resembles a soaked rat in the middle of a desert.
He does not belong here.“Who are you, and how did you get here?” demands one of the soldiers, edging on hostility.
“I… I don’t know,” he stammers. “I was… underwater, and then… here?”The soldier’s eyes narrow, and it seems he’s about to give an order. An order that would likely be fatal for Randy. But at that exact moment, a voice rings out from the back of the group.
“Hold on!”A tall, imposing figure steps forward, his face concealed by a mask, and his uniform tattered and worn. He carries himself with an air of authority that makes the other soldiers snap to attention.
“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice cold and calculating.
“Randy… uh, Randy Ramon,” he replies, still bewildered by the unfolding events.
The leader studies him for a moment, then suddenly removes his mask, revealing a rugged face with piercing eyes. He steps closer to Randy, and there is a glimmer of recognition in his gaze.
“Randy Ramon? As in, the Rockstar? This isn’t at all what I expected, but your name rings a bell. I’m Chris Crowe, the fourth.”Randy’s eyes widen in surprise.
“Chris Crowe? Like, the Showman?”The soldiers exchange glances, and the atmosphere seems to shift from hostility to curiosity. Chris nods, his eyes now gleaming with a glimmer of hope and nostalgia.
“That’s right, my great grandfather, ‘The Showman’, spoke of your legendary battles. With, and against him, in the old days - before everything…” He gestures vaguely at the hell around them.
“...went to shit.”Randy’s memories begin to stir. He knew of a Chris Crowe - he was a relatively new figure in FWA at the time of Randy’s battle with Krash…
Krash...
Randy’s eyes dart around, trying to comprehend all of this.
“Did you see another guy run through here? He kind of looks like a piece of shit with a mustache? A literal turd with a mustache?”The soldiers all shake their heads from side to side. Randy shakes out the cobwebs and returns his mind to the questions at hand.
Randy had never faced Chris Crowe, never been in the ring with him, never even met the guy in person. What was this large person talking about, and how could it be the Showman’s great grandson standing before him, a fully grown man?
And why does he speak of things that never happened? And where was he? What broken city was this?
And better yet, a more poignant and pointed question rests on his tongue, threatening to question every fiber of reality that he’s ever known.
“When am I?” he asks, slowly coming to the realization that the trident may not have merely moved him out of the water and to something reasonably approximating safety..
“It’s 2085, Randy. I don’t know how you got here, and I won’t pretend to know why you look the same as you did in my family’s old pictures, but you’ve arrived in a fucking shitstorm. If you’re willing, we could use your help. We’re in the middle of war… a war for our very freedom, and we’re struggling. But… you’ve obviously been sent here, and now, for a reason. You might be exactly the sign we’ve been waiting for.”The other soldiers exchange glances, unsure of how this newcomer fits into their ranks. Randy, however, sees an opportunity to make sense of this strange world he has landed in. He nods in agreement.
“I may not be a soldier, but I’m willing to help. If it means a chance to find some answers? Then I’m in.”CCIV’s eyes sparkle with gratitude.
“Then welcome to Deathswitch.” He smiles.
“You’re going to play a part in a fight for freedom and justice, just this time, the stakes are higher than any wrestling match...”Randy’s journey for revenge has taken an unexpected turn, leading him to a time and place he does not recognize. For better or worse, he is now part of this militia. With the shadow of war looming over their shoulders, Randy and Chris stand side by side, ready to forge a new destiny.
“The Rockstar” is now an unexpected hero in the fight for freedom… and… time?
Chapter 2 The cold late Autumn wind whips through The Badlands Trailer Park as we cut in and see “The Showman” Chris Crowe and his best friend/manager Crazy Harry taking in the last few rays of sunshine before winter on the front lawn. Both men are sprawled out on their respective green lawn chairs. A cooler of cold Miller Lite sits between the dynamic duo as they sip away the day.
Crowe reads from an envelope his FWA itinerary for the upcoming show. He decided to throw his name into the Buddy Bowl, although he and his other best friend Tommy fucking Bedlam have taken the Tag Division by storm. The dangerous team now just known as “Deathswitch” was hoping to cut the line of number one contenders for the FWA Tag titles with the hopes of being paired up in the Buddy Bowl. However, fate doesn’t always work the way you want it to, as such was the case here.
Crowe looks down and is surprisingly excited about who he is teaming up with…
“Is it Tommy? Please tell me it’s Tommy…you’re excited…it must be Tommy…”Harry is hanging onto every facial expression Crowe makes while reading the itinerary.
“Nope. Not Tommy…”Harry puts his head in his hands and lets out a sigh.
“Fuck. Then who is it? I hope it’s none of those crazy witches from The Coven! My balls still hurt from them!”
“It’s…It can’t be…Well, it does say it right here. It doesn’t look like a typo. It’s…The Rockstar Randy Ramon!”Harry’s eyes light up with excitement.
“The fucking ROCKSTAR RANDY RAMON?!?!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? That guy is a legend!”Crowe and Harry high five each other before knocking beer cans to a toast.
“It’s not Tommy. He’s not Deathswitch…but…he is a fucking legend! We’re gonna take this entire Buddy Bowl!”Crowe is happy for a brief moment, before anxiety kicks in. Although Crowe is bursting with excitement about tagging with an FWA legend, the wear and tear of the road has once again consumed him. He is not as hollow as he was when he bolted the first time around, but the agonizing, grueling every-day life is starting to take its toll. He tries his best to let the positives outweigh the very minor negatives.
He is teaming with a FWA Legend! He should be thrilled! No. Not with “The Showman” and his fucked up way of thinking. He sees teaming with Randy Ramon as added pressure to perform at a high level. He now knows he can’t fuck this up, and has to stay laser-focused. Randy Ramon has been gone for over a year and on his first match back is tagging with Crowe? This is insanity!
He’s afraid of the unknown. He’s paranoid. About what? About life. Not knowing what’s around the corner. Not knowing if his knee will give out just walking down to the ring. The fear of failure parallels the unknown in lockstep harmony. The fear of letting down not only himself and Harry, but letting down the entire Badlands Trailer Park once again. This feeling is nothing new to Crowe, however these feelings have intensified over the past few weeks.
Harry doesn’t sense anything, as Crowe plays his poker face masterfully. Recently, Crowe has been making fires in the front yard. Staring deep into the flame soothes his soul. It nourishes his mental state. The crackling sound of the fire fades away the fear and anxiety Crowe is currently feeling.
Crowe tries his best to hide his anxiety and changes the subject.
“You know what, Harry? Let’s make a fucking fire!”Crowe heads over to the side of the yard and gathers a bunch of wood, sticks, and moss. Off to the side of the pile of wood is an old guitar, leaning up against the side of Crowe’s trailer.
“Oh shit, I remember this thing!”Crowe says to himself before picking the guitar up. He has never been one for instruments, so we can rule out Crowe purchasing a guitar with his own money. “The Showman” shrugs his shoulders and grabs the guitar along with the firewood.
“Harry, were you jamming in the yard and never told me?”Crowe tosses the guitar to Harry who laughs. Harry is just as musically declined as Crowe.
Crowe strikes a match and tosses it into the makeshift firepit, igniting the flames. He takes the guitar from Harry and fools around, making pretend he knows how to play it…
“You know how to play that thing?” Harry asks.
“Fuck no! But how cool would it be if I could rip some chords like Metallica?” Crowe replies.
“So where in the fuck did you find an old guitar?” Harry is inquisitive about this guitar. Seemingly because he’s lived with Crowe for as long as he can remember and Crowe never once picked up a guitar.
“Don’t know. One night I passed out on the front lawn. I woke up. There was this guitar leaning on the side of the trailer.”Crowe strikes a few chords, testing it out. He doesn’t know how to play guitar.
“Alright, Harry. What do you want me to open with? One or Enter Sandman?”Harry scoffs at the question. Being a Metallica aficionado, Harry already knows the answer.
“You always CLOSE with Enter Sandman. Send the folks home happy.”
“Then ONE it is..”Crowe looks down at the guitar but before he does, he notices a cold piece of metal at the end of the guitar.
“What the fuck is that?”Crowe touches the piece of metal. In an instant, a surge of energy courses through his veins, and the piece of metal begins to glow with an ethereal blue light.
Crowe’s eyes light up like he just did an 8-ball of cocaine. Harry notices it as well.
“Damn, Showman. It’s like that piece of metal has some sort of magical powers…”Crowe looks down at the guitar, strums his fingers along the strings, and begins to play “One” by Metallica in perfect harmony…
“Whoa. Holy shit!”Crowe looks down at his guitar and continues to string along. Although he’s never played a guitar in his life, he is strumming along perfectly to the beginning guitar rift of “One” by Metallica as if he is Kirk Hammett.
“Holy shit is right, Showman! Ride the fucking lightning baby! Keep it going!” Harry begins to nod his head up and down to the guitar riff.
Crowe continues jamming away on his guitar as he begins to sing the lyrics of “One”. For this particular moment in time, Crowe lets go of all of his built up stress and anxiety. He feels like a million bucks, AND he can jam the fuck out just like his favorite band, Metallica!
Chapter 3
Parts Unknown
The Year 2085“I can’t remember anything. Can’t tell if this is true or a dream. Deep down inside I feel to scream, this terrible silence stops me…”The night air is crisp, a solitary campfire flickers, casting a warm glow on the faces of the resistance fighters who gather around it. Among them, Randy and Chris sit on makeshift logs. The atmosphere is charged with anticipation, for tomorrow, they face a battle that could reshape the destiny of this land.
But in the midst of it, Randy cannot pull his thoughts fully to this time. The world he left behind was one of chaos, though different from
this chaos. Things with Krash had finally escalated to the point that Randy was willing and ready to do anything to end them - even dying. But yet, he sits here on this log, very much alive. None of it makes any sense.
Amidst the subdued conversations and the distant hum of the city’s underbelly, Randy and Chris found themselves in a reflective mood, though each for their own reasons. Chris’ mind, as it should be, is fixated on the battle at hand. This is his time, his battle, his war. The ‘how’ and ‘why’ of Randy’s existence in this time and place are nothing more than footnotes on one page of a chapter of a compilation of books that would be passed down as the history of the new world… if they are victorious.
Meanwhile Randy, while paying the proper respects to the challenges that lie ahead, allows his mind to wander back to the water. Mere seconds left to live, he was plucked from certain death, to this time and place. Why? Who wanted him here? Where did that trident come from? Where did it go? Where does the Crowe family fit into all of this?
Chris breaks the silence, his gaze fixed on the fire.
“Randy, tomorrow’s battle - it’s not just about this place. There’s a connection between you and this time, a destiny that stretches beyond the horizon of our understanding.”Randy, looking off into the distance, nods.
“Chris, I can feel it too. There’s a purpose to all of this, something that goes beyond a simple fight for freedom. I was chosen for a reason, and I want, I need, to understand why.”Chris leans in, his eyes reflecting the dancing firelight.
“There are legends, in this time, that speak of an ancient power that will shape the course of history. This trident you speak of could be the key, but only if we can figure out where it came from and how it did what it did in bringing you here. Tomorrow’s battle may unveil more than just the opposition - it might unveil the roots of our own destinies.”The night becomes a canvas for their thoughts, a space where contemplation mingles with the rustling pitter patter of scurrying creatures and distant sounds of crumbling civilization. The trident that brought Randy here, while gone, seemed to resonate with their shared sense of purpose.
As they delve into conversation, the campfire becomes a crucible for forging strategies and sharing dreams. They discuss the challenges ahead - the tactical intricacies of the battlefield, the shadows that lurk in the unknown, and the delicate dance between fate and free will.
Randy, his eyes catching the glow of the fire, speaks with a quiet intensity.
“Chris, I can’t shake the feeling that tomorrow isn’t just another battle. It’s like my entire existence has led me to this point, and The Showman’s legacy is somehow intertwined with it.”Chris nods, his gaze steady.
“Destiny is a complex tapestry. The trident, your connection with The Showman, your… turd with a mustache… this place - they are all threads woven into the narrative of our lives. Tomorrow might unravel some of those threads, but we can only see a fraction of the full picture.”As the night wears on, a distant light flickers on the horizon. It’s subtle, like a beacon summoning them towards an unknown destination. Randy, feeling an inexplicable pull, stands up.
“Chris, do you see that light?” He points to the distant glow.
Chris squints, his brow furrowed.
“That’s strange. There shouldn’t be any settlements in that direction. It could be the enemy, or–”Before Chris can finish, Randy’s eyes widen with realization.
“No, Chris, That light… It's the key to understanding all of this. I can feel it.”Driven by an unspoken understanding, Randy moves toward the light, leaving the campfire and the hushed conversations behind. Chris, fueled by a curiosity and a shared sense of destiny, follows closely.
As they approach, the light reveals itself to be emanating from a concealed cavern nestled against a rocky landscape on the outskirts of the city. The cavern, hidden from plain sight, seems to hold secrets that beg to be unearthed. Randy, feeling an inexplicable connection, steps inside, Chris at his side.
The cavern’s interior is bathed in a soft, mysterious glow. Strange symbols adorn the walls, and in the center, atop an ancient pedestal, rests a pool of liquid silver, shimmering with a radiance that defies explanation.
Randy approaches the pool, and as he gazes into its depths, visions unfold before his eyes. He sees an ancient civilization, a once-prosperous realm torn apart by power struggles and the misuse of the very trident he believes led him here. The trident, created by the hands of those who sought dominion over time and reality, became a force that transcended its creators, seeking individuals across the ages to bring balance to a fractured world.
Chris, witnessing the visions alongside Randy, speaks with awe.
“This is the trident you saw?” Randy nods. Chris continues.
“I think - it sought you out, Randy, to rewrite the course of destiny.”As the visions fade, Randy feels a profound connection. He senses that the trident is not merely an artifact, but a tool of redemption that seeks out individuals whose destinies are intertwined with the salvation of this world. He knows what he needs to do.
He steps forward and plunges his arm into the silver pool. His arm feels as if bolts of electricity flow through it. A familiar cold sensation flows through his fingers as they grasp what cannot be seen. Randy lifts his arm from the pool, and with it comes the trident, glowing with the same blue aura that he saw in the river.
Though he now holds the physical weight of the trident in his hand, and the metaphorical weight of the world in his mind, he feels lighter than he has in some time. The negative energy he has carried with him: the hatred, the jealousy, the anger, the lust for vengeance - have all vanished. As if baptized by the silver waters of this basin, the sins of his old self have been washed away.
Randy’s eyes are lost in the glow.
“I understand now,” he whispers.
“I was chosen because my destiny is entwined with the fate of this world. But there’s more to uncover. Not just in the past, but also in the future.”Chris nods, a sense of reverence in his gaze.
“Randy, you are a bridge between past and present, a conduit for destiny itself.”Randy smirks.
“A hero of time.”Their revelations echo in the cavern, and as they emerge into the night, Randy feels a profound sense of purpose. Something he has not felt since the early days of Golden Rock. This is why he was spared. The intense anger and hatred he felt for Krash actually had nothing to do with the man himself. No, the battle - the kicks, the punches, Reagan Cole’s car, all of it, was leading to this moment. A greater purpose. The trident, now more than ever, has become a beacon of a destiny that transcends the limitations of time.
Back at the campfire, the resistance fighters continue their preparations, unaware of the revelations that have unfolded in the hidden cavern. Randy, holding the trident high, joins the camaraderie. His heart and soul resonate with the rhythms of destiny, and as the night continues, he and Chris stand side by side, ready to face the challenges that await them.
The campfire, now a symbol of anticipation and newfound knowledge, burns brightly against the canvas of the night. Destiny, like the flames that dance before them, flickers with possibilities yet to be unraveled.
Chapter 4“Hold my breath as I wish for deathOh, please, God, help me”We follow Crowe’s footsteps as he enters
“Bad to the Bone”- a local bar down the street from Crowe’s trailer. It is a beaten down dive bar, one in which the patrons of The Badlands Trailer Park make up about 99 percent of the clientele. Crowe shakes a few hands, pats a few shoulders, and gives a few “hello’s” as he finds an open seat at the bar.
“Showman! Nice to see you, brother!”The bartender, Jake greets Crowe. Crowe and Jake go way back. The two used to boost car stereos throughout middle school. Much like everybody else from The Badlands, Jake had a gift as a talented writer and producer, yet finds himself tending bar in The Badlands.
“Jake, give me a strong one tonight. Tough day.”Jake pours a triple shot of Jack Daniels, neat- Crowe’s drink of choice…
“Where’s Harry? I thought I’d see him tonight. Is he still selling? There’s a few things I need from him?”So, where is Harry? Right before we cut into the scene, Harry solicited two of the prostitutes that line up outside “Bad to the Bone” and of course, his solicitation skills are second to none…
“Knowing him, he will be in any second…”Crowe and Jake share a laugh as Jake knows exactly where Harry is. Crowe guzzles down his triple shot of Jack Daniels and asks for another. A garage band plays in the corner of the bar while everybody tries to drown out their noise. They’re a group of high school kids trying their best, but all it sounds like is clanging metal as if somebody is building a house.
Crowe usually comes here to chase tail, but tonight, he is extra paranoid. Ever since he picked up that guitar- the feeling that ensued – was like nothing he had ever felt in his entire life. Crowe is still at war with “The Unknown” and the mental albatross he carries around is really eating at him.
On top of the usual anxiety and paranoia that comes with being Chris Crowe on a normal Tuesday, the mounting pressure of teaming with an FWA Legend like Randy Ramon weighs heavily on him. He can’t let the fucking Rockstar down. He can’t be dead weight. He can’t…he can’t stop thinking about that guitar.
“BOO! Somebody pull the fucking plug! My ears are bleeding!’One of the very happy patrons of “Bad to the Bone” shouts out as the garage band has reached its peak.
The Badlands regulars are exceptionally cranky tonight, and they’ve about had enough of the garage band. They shower the teenage kids trying their hardest with beer bottles, peanuts, and anything else they can get their hands on.
“Ah fuck man, not again. This is the fourth time this week.”Jake shakes his head as he politely asks the unhappy patrons to stop yelling at the garage band, as one of the members begins to cry.
“Making kids cry and crushing their dreams in the same breath. That’s The Badlands for ya!”Crowe says as he is now on his fifth glass of Jack Daniels. He looks over at the garage band as they begin to pack up their instruments. Somewhere in the parking lot is a set of proud parents waiting to pick their kid up, only to be disappointed. Disappointment- another stronghold of The Badlands and Chris Crowe…
Although the music has stopped, the other patrons now grow frustrated that there is no music…
“Boo! No music? This place sucks!”Crowe shakes his head…
“Have your fucking cake and eat it too? You can’t have it both ways. Wanting everything, hating it, then getting pissed when you shut it off- another trait of The Badlands…”Crowe says to Jake. Jake, who also happens to own this joint, begins to panic…
“Chris, somebody’s gotta do something. I can’t lose any more business.”Suddenly Crowe looks over at the corner where the band just left. Surprisingly
(or not, Crowe is so fucking supernatural at this point it really isn’t THAT surprising) is his guitar. Crowe may be 7 glasses deep in Jack Daniels, but he definitely can recognize the guitar that made him feel superhuman the other day.
“How in the fuck did that get there?”Crowe mumbles to himself. Harry finally bolts into the bar after his escapades.
“Why are there five crying teenagers on the sidewalk outside?”Crowe catches him up on the garage band leaving. Harry also spots the guitar.
“Whoa, wait, is that?”“Yep!”“How in the fuck?”“Yep!”Harry gulps down the rest of Crowe’s eighth glass of Jack Daniels before pointing to the guitar…
“Chris, now is your time to shine! Pick that fucking thing up and ride the lightning!”
“Harry, you know I have no fucking clue how to play that thing!"
“You didn’t know the other day, and I saw James Hetfield’s soul come through your body. Pick that damn thing up and give us a damn show. You are “The Showman” after all!”
“Ah fuck it. Here goes nothing. You got my back once the beer bottles fly my way?”Harry nods in agreement as Crowe goes over to the guitar and begins to test out the chords. He garners the attention of a few townfolk, who are just waiting for some sort of excitement. Nobody wants another bar fight because they usually don’t end well.
Harry downs another glass of Jack Daniels as he holds his glass up towards Crowe…
“Fucking grip it and rip it, Showman!”Crowe touches the cold metal at the top of the guitar as he feels like a million volts of the purest electricity known to mankind jolt through his body.
More and more patrons begin picking up on the masterful guitar playing ability from “The Showman” as he feels his hands disconnect from his mind…
Crowe begins to play the only song he knows – “One” by Metallica. He jams away as The Badlands townsfolk are in awe of his performance. James Hetfield could be singing right now and nobody would know the difference.
As Crowe finishes up the song, he is met with a standing ovation.
“Holy shit, Showman! When in the fuck did you learn how to play guitar?”Jake asks as Crowe looks down at his hands in amazement.
“Long story, Jake.”
“I don’t care how long this story is, you’re hired to come back whenever the fuck you want, Showman!”Jake and Harry pat Crowe on the back as he sits back down at the bar. Soon, every patron listening to Crowe’s performance comes over and pat him on the back. The Badlands people are tough to please, but Crowe’s rendition of “One” has most of them in shock and awe.,,
For a brief moment in between rocking the fuck out, Crowe felt a sense of peace. He wants to bottle this feeling for the rest of eternity because he knows the minute his hands come off his guitar he’s back to fighting his war with “The Unknown…”
Chapter 5 “Now the world is gone, I'm just one
Oh, God, help me”Parts Unknown
The Year 2085The battlefield has become a symphony of clashing swords, roaring war cries, the
pop pop of gunshots, and the relentless pounding of boots on unforgiving terrain. The resistance fighters, invigorated by Randy’s presence and the newfound alliance with the mystical trident, surge forward with a determination that defies their earlier despair. They’ve come face to face with the forces that have controlled these lands for too long.
As the sun dips beneath the horizon, the sky transforms into a canvas of deep crimson and shimmering gold. The battlefield becomes cast in the surreal glow of twilight. Battle cries fill the air as the Rockstar becomes the focal point of the resistance’s relentless assault. His sheer determination mixed with the powers of the trident has rekindled the spirits of the fighters, instilling in them a determination they had long thought gone.
What had been a battle teetering on the precipice of defeat has now become a defiant spectacle of resilience and destiny. It has become clear that Randy’s presence on this battlefield is not a mere coincidence; it is a manifestation of the intricate tapestry of fate that wove its threads around him and this world. It is his
destiny.
The opposing forces, once indomitable, now find themselves pushed to the edge of surrender. Randy, armed with his new trident, has unlocked powers beyond his comprehension, and has become a beacon of hope for the resistance fighters. The trident’s glow has enveloped him, imbuing him with an aura of invincibility.
The tide of battle has turned from the darkness of despair to the dawning light of hope. The trident, a distant relic from an ancient origin, has proven Randy as its chosen wielder. With every movement, he can feel a connection between his original timeline and this foreign, future hellscape.
The enemy’s leader, an enigmatic figure shrouded beneath black spiked armor and a menacing mask, holds the fate of this battle in his hands. He brandishes a great sword, known across this land as the
“Blade of Truth”. It’s a menacing instrument of destruction that gleams malevolently in the fading light. Randy, approaching his destiny head on, confronts this adversary with absolute resolve, a determination that reverberates through the ranks of the resistance.
The clash is a breathtaking display of power from all sides, a dance of combat skills and raw, unmitigated might. The master of the blade moves with calculated precision, delivering strikes that could shatter mountains.
Randy’s experience in the ring has given him unexpected prowess in close combat. When melded with the otherworldly powers of the trident, this creates a fusion of combat techniques that is nothing short of spectacular. Their mighty weapons clash, sparks erupting from their contact, and the ground beneath them trembles in response.
The enemy leader, realizing he has encountered a foe of unparalleled skill, unleashes a devastating strike, hoping to end the confrontation once and for all. But Randy sees it coming. He swiftly dodges the attack and executes a violent parry, seizing the turning point of the battle. He thrusts the trident deep into the ground.
A seismic shockwave rips through the battlefield, his destiny becoming more clear. The ground quivers, and the Blade of Truth is violently wrenched from the hands of the enemy leader. The oppressive forces, disarmed and disoriented, face their ultimate reckoning. The tide of the battle, orchestrated by the destiny that linked Randy to the trident and to this exact moment in time, has irrevocably shifted in favor of the resistance. Victory, like the glow of the trident, now belongs to those who have fought for freedom.
The enemy leader, unmasked and defeated, gazes upon Randy with a complex mixture of bitterness and intrigue.
“What is this power you possess?” he demands, his voice shaking with defiance.
Randy raises the trident as it shimmers with radiant energy. He knows what he must do. He takes a half step back before thrusting his foot forward into the enemy leader’s chin, eliminating him with a devastating Remix. The leader’s jaw shatters as he hits the dusty ground. Randy stands valiantly over him.
“My density is my power… for some reason, this is where I was meant to be.”The enemy forces, bereft of their leadership, surrender, and the city is reclaimed. As night descends over the battlefield, the resistance fighters celebrate their hard-earned triumph. Campfires crackle back to life, and stories of the battle are exchanged with fervor. The sweet scent of victory fills the air, and the warriors enjoy their new sense of liberation.
Amid the jubilant festivities, Chris Crowe IV approaches Randy, his eyes filled with a potent mix of determination and curiosity.
“We have accomplished something truly incredible today. The power of the trident, your connection to this place, and the destiny that led you here… I get the sense that it’s all part of some bigger puzzle that we need to continue to unravel.”Randy nods, purpose flowing through his veins.
“You’re right Chris. We won this battle… but there has to be something bigger at play here. Why was this exact trident in that exact spot at that exact time? And why did the cavern suddenly… appear? And if it originated in this timeline, how did it get to the bottom of the river?”Chris looks at him knowingly, as if he just uncovered one of the biggest secrets of the universe.
“It’s clear, isn’t it?” Randy returns only a blank stare.
“For it to end up in your time, someone from this time would have to put it there.”Randy knows what this means. Perhaps it’s something he always knew was coming, but wasn’t ready to accept.
Chapter 6“Hold my breath as I wish for death, Oh, please God, wake me!”After a long night filled with Jack Daniels and a masterful guitar session, Crowe’s head hits the pillow for sleep around 4:00 in the morning. He came home empty handed in the woman department tonight, but his guitar playing ability surely moved him up the rankings on most of the Badlands Baddie’s sheet.
Although Crowe had an overall fun night, his mind has reached a breaking point. He can’t stop thinking about the guitar. The high he feels while playing it is accompanied by the lowest of lows he’s ever felt. He’s in a very bad “low” right now, just before sleep. A very bad “low” just before sleep almost always leads to some fucked up dreams for “The Showman” and tonight is no different…
Deep in dream mode, Crowe finds himself in an arid desert. He notices how fucking thirsty he is, due to the fact that his mouth is completely dry to the point where he can barely open it. His body screams for water. He frantically searches for it, but he is in the middle of a desert-no water! The thirsty feeling gains increasingly painful with each step he takes. The hot sun bakes off his neck. He realizes at this moment that all he has on is his wrestling gear. No shirt, no hat, no sunglasses. Just a green pair of wrestling tights, knee pads and black boots.
Off in the distance he can hear what appears to be a stampede of horses. He slowly climbs up a small foothill and looks down- only to see over a million faceless men, all wearing the Grim Reaper getup, charging right towards him on their white horses.
“What the fuck did I get myself into now?”Crowe says as he tries to hide underneath a big rock.
“You need a place to hide?”A soft-spoken voice says to Crowe. He looks around, but there is nobody in sight. Crowe decides to look up at the sky and answer.
“Uh, yeah, that would be nice. Seeing that there’s an army of a million grim reapers coming for me…”He looks down for a better spot to hide, but all he sees is an old walkman CD player.
“Use this. Listen carefully. Expand your thinking. After all, this is your fucking dream…”The voice says to Crowe…
Crowe quickly picks up the walkman and puts the headphones on before pressing play.
The CD player skips, and skips, and skips, as a small digital reading comes up on it- “Error”.
“Fuck! It’s not working! What do you want me to do?”Crowe shouts as the stampede steps are drawing closer and closer by the second. He smacks the CD player and finally begins to hear music…
“Now, do what you’re told, Showman.”Crowe obeys this soft-spoken voice above him with every command. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and does his best to “expand his thinking” as the voice told him to…
"Get yourselves together…Rise!...Stand up and live your life…”Crowe gets himself together, rises, stands up, and is ready to live what’s left of his life as the grim reaper army is within fifty yards of him and gaining fast.
“Stand up to the devil slowly rising. Clear your throat now, you can call for their demise!”Crowe looks off to the side and finds an oasis has been next to him this entire time…or has it? It doesn’t matter. Crowe has stood up to the devil slowly rising, which in this case is a million man grim reaper army. He clears his throat with ease after gulping down a large amount of water. He looks to his left and wouldn’t you believe it? The guitar is leaned up against the side of the oasis!
“Because of fucking course it is!”Crowe shouts as he picks up the guitar. The grim reaper army is within ten yards of him now. He quickly grips the magical metal piece at the end of the guitar…
“This is your world, just put the fear back in their eyes!”As Crowe’s hand is still on the magical metal, he hears a loud war-calling horn behind him. He looks back, expecting to be surrounded on all sides, but instead, sees a familiar face.
It’s
INSANE LARRY- the brother of Crazy Harry – the leader of The Ghosts of All Souls Past Army- and the man that saves “The Showman” every time he is in one of these situations…
The Ghost Army – skeletons with black top hats – led by Insane Larry charge past Crowe and right into the teeth of the Grim Reaper army. There isn’t much bloodshed, in fact, none at all. The Grim Reaper army simply vanishes into thin air.
Crowe races ahead to meet up with Insane Larry, but this time he and his skeleton army are miles ahead.
“Did I just witness a Ghost driveby?”Crowe shouts up to the soft-spoken voice…
“Yes. You listened. You expanded your thinking. Always remember to stand up and live your life…and always remember to rise…”
“RISE! RISE YOU FUCKER!”Crowe quickly awakens from his dream to see Crazy Harry standing at the foot of his bed.
“Oh thank God, Showman! You’re back!”Crowe, still not knowing what is real and dream, reaches out and grabs Harry’s arm.
“Where the fuck was I?”
“I don’t know, but I have two companions in the other room and you were snoring like a fucking elephant! I can’t concentrate with that noise!”Crowe looks at Harry and begins to laugh. He vividly remembers every detail of his dream, and is sure to remember the wise words given to him by the soft-spoken voice of the unknown man in the desert.
“All I gotta do is rise, huh?”Chapter 7
Parts Unknown
The Year 2085The aftermath of the battle paints the landscape with a mixture of triumph and melancholy. The once-battlefield, not a testament to the resilience of the resistance, echoes with the sounds of soldiers celebrating their hard-fought victory. Fires burn low, casting flickering shadows on the weary faces of the fighters who have gathered to share tales of the day’s events.
Randy and Chris sit on a weathered log near the edge of the camp, their eyes reflecting the glow of the dwindling campfires. The trident, still cradled in Randy’s hands, emits a subdued radiance, as if acknowledging the pivotal role it played in the day’s victory.
The silence between Randy and Chris carries the weight of shared experiences and unspoken sentiments. The trident, a silent witness to their journey, seems to resonate with the unspoken connection that had bound the three together.
Chris, again breaking the silence, speaks with a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction.
“Randy, we did it. Against all odds, we have reclaimed our land. The opposition is scattered, and the people are again free.”Randy, his gaze fixed on the trident, nods in agreement.
“Chris, it’s been an honor. I never thought a quest for revenge could lead to all of this, but I’m grateful for the experience.”Chris chuckles, a tired but genuine smile on his face.
“Revenge or not, destiny has a funny way of bringing people together. The trident chose you for a reason, and the honor is mine to have fought alongside you.”As they reflect on the battle and the events that unfolded, a sense of camaraderie and understanding envelopes them. The trident, its glow ebbing like a heartbeat, seems to echo the rhythm of their shared experiences.
“The trident,” Chris continues,
“holds the key to our past, present, and future. But its purpose in this time is fulfilled. I can sense it.”Randy runs his fingers along the trident’s intricate design.
“I feel it too, Chris. It’s time for me to return to my own time, to where this all began. I need to ensure that the cycle continues.”Chris looks at Randy with curiosity, sensing the gravity of his words.
Randy stands up, the trident in hand.
“I need to place the trident where I’ll find it… or, he will.. Or… my past self. You get the idea. This is all a little confusing. It’s a loop, or a cycle, and I have to close the cycle for it all to make sense.”Chris nods, understanding drawing in his eyes.
“So, you were always meant to find the trident in the river, weren’t you?”Randy smiles, a blend of nostalgia and determination.
“Exactly. It’s a loop that brings everything full circle. I’ll leave this trident in the river, where I once thought I’d drown. That’s where the journey begins.”As Randy prepares to leave, the campfires around them burn low, casting long shadows on the ground. The fighters, weary but content, continue their celebrations, unaware of the quiet exchange taking place between Randy and Chris.
Before departing, Randy turns to Chris, gratitude etched on his face.
“Chris, you’ve been more than a friend on this journey. You’ve been a companion in the face of the unknown. I’ll never forget this battle.”Chris clasps Randy’s shoulder with a firm grip.
“The pleasure was mine, Randy. Our destinies may lead us down different paths, but the bond we forged will endure. Go back to your time, and may destiny guide your steps.”With those words, Randy steps away from the campfire, trident in hand. He walks towards the riverbank, the memories of battle and camaraderie lingering in the night air. The trident’s glow intensifies as if bidding farewell to a companion.
As he reaches the edge of the river, he pauses, taking in the surroundings one final time. The moon reflects on the water’s surface, creating a scenic tableau. He looks down at the trident, its glow now vibrant, and with a sense of purpose, he gently touches it to the river’s edge.
The trident, once again one with the river’s currents, emits a final burst of brilliance before fading, along with Randy, into the night. Randy, his heart heavy with the weight of goodbyes and the mysteries of destiny, turns to Chris as he shimmers away.
“Take care, Chris. Perhaps our paths will cross again in another time, or another place.”Chris, his gaze fixed on the river, nods.
“Farewell, Randy. May your journey be as extraordinary as the times we’ve shared.”Randy and the trident have disappeared. The glow lingers in the water, a last testament to the extraordinary journey that had unfolded. Only the echoes of a time-traveling professional wrestler remain in a realm forever changed by the currents of destiny. The river flows, the campfires burn low, and the fighters continue their celebrations, unaware of the intricate tapestry of time and wrestling and revenge and mustaches that had woven their destinies together.
Chapter 8
Back in Business XVI
July 2022The transition between realms feels like a seamless dance, a swirling current of energies guiding Randy through the fabric of time. As he emerges on the familiar riverbank, the moonlight casts a silver glow on the water's surface. The air smells of damp earth and nostalgia, a stark contrast to the battlegrounds of the future era he had just left.
Randy takes a moment to ground himself. The echoes of the past and the future reverberate in his mind, creating a surreal symphony of memories. He casts a cautious glance around, ensuring he is alone on this moonlit night.
His gaze falls on the trident clutched in his hands. It emits a subdued radiance, a testament to the journey it has undertaken across time and realities. Randy, mindful of the delicate dance of time, knows that he must tread carefully in his actions.
The river, where he once believed he had met his end, whispers ancient secrets. It was the birthplace of this time-traveling odyssey, the stage for the intricate interplay of fate and free will. Randy, with a sense of purpose, moves toward the water's edge.
As he stands at the familiar spot, memories flood back—the confusion, the disbelief, and the discovery of the trident. He felt a connection to his past self, the version of him who had unknowingly set this entire journey in motion.
Randy glances around, ensuring the coast is clear. He doesn't want to encounter his past self, for the consequences of such an encounter are unknown. Satisfied that he is alone at this moment, he kneels down and gently places the trident at the river's edge.
The trident, bathed in moonlight, seems to recognize its origin in our story. It emits a soft glow, mirroring the shimmering surface of the water. Randy, his fingers lingering on the trident's intricate design, whispers words that echo across time.
"May you find your way, just as I once did."With a measured breath, Randy releases the trident, allowing it to descend into the river's depths. The water embraces the artifact, and as it vanishes beneath the surface, Randy feels a sense of closure—a circle completing its loop.
The river, ever the keeper of secrets, accepts the trident with a subtle ripple. Randy watches as the currents carry it away, downstream, perhaps toward a future where it will once again find its way into the hands of the younger version of himself.
As Randy stands there, a profound stillness settles over the riverbank. The moon, a silent witness to the intricacies of time, bathes the scene in a soft, ethereal glow. The echoes of his time-traveling journey linger, a chorus of whispers carried by the night breeze.
However, as Randy prepares to leave, a thought crosses his mind—a subtle deviation from the established timeline. He glances at the trident, a glint of determination in his eyes. With a swift motion, he unscrews a small section from the trident's handle—a piece that went unnoticed in the grand design of its structure.
This small fragment, a souvenir from a journey that defied the constraints of time, now rests in Randy's pocket. It’s a subtle keepsake, a memento of a tale only he fully comprehends. The trident continues its journey downstream.
As Randy steps away from the riverbank, the night embraces him with a quiet serenity. The past and the future coexist in his mind, two strands of time interwoven into the tapestry of his experiences. The moon, casting its silver glow on the water, bears witness to the enigma of a wrestler who had traversed the currents of destiny.
Randy, with a final glance at the river, turns away, blending into the shadows of the night. He moves onward and upward, knowing that the man who went into the water is gone. Randy Ramon did not die in the river that night, but he was born a new man on the other side.
The echoes of his journey linger, carried away by the breeze, leaving behind a river that flows ceaselessly, unaware of the temporal ripples that will grace its waters.
And so, the night resumes its quiet vigil, the river continues its journey, and Randy, absolved of the weight of past grudges, all in the name of destiny, and carrying a piece of the trident in his pocket, steps into the currents of his own, new, timeline.
Free of hatred and revenge, now an enigma of time and wrestling and of rock and of roll. A new tale has been woven, leaving behind subtle hints and echoes that will transcend the boundaries of past, present, and future.
Epilogue “Rockstar” Randy Ramon steps around the corner, butterflies in his stomach, as he’s about to RISE for the first time in a long time. He’s reached the entrance way, and now stands shoulder to shoulder with “The Showman” Chris Crowe.
Crowe begins to feel anxious as he finally stands next to Randy in person. This is their first ever interaction, but both men lock eyes and nod, feeling as if they’ve been tag team partners for the past sixty years. Both of their journeys have prepared them for this moment - Randy through time and space, Chris through his own mind.
Everything happens for a reason.
“You ready to do this?” Randy says, taking a deep breath and channeling his nervous energy into unmatched focus.
Crowe nods. His anxiety quickly dissipates as he lets out his pre-match animalistic roar. He’s more ready than ever. It’s fucking go-time – Crowe and Randy are about to engage in the biggest fucking Rock Show anyone’s ever been to…
“Let’s do it,” Crowe returns.
“Let’s grab our fucking destiny...”…
…
…
RISE!!!!!!!!
