Title: Broken Mirrors
Featuring: Duce Jones
Date: September 20, 2018
Location: Memphis, TN
Show: Evolution 31



The wonderful sounds of jeering fans, flooded my ears as me, Freddie, and Jarvis made our way behind the curtains into the gorilla position. Freddie pulling off what many would call an upset, but me, I call it taking care of business. I knew he could do it, even if he didn't have confidence within himself. That's why I asked him to team with me, I knew exactly what he was capable of; where most took him as a pushover, I saw untapped potential, that needed a bit of motivation. We were on top of the CWF World, and the funny thing was, none of us even possessed the World Title.

 

The Glass Ceiling name held weight now, our position was solidified. The locker room was no longer safe, because one way or another, the CWF was going to be represented the right way. Not by freaks and geeks with tortured souls and broken spirits.

 

The three of us made our way towards the locker room, specifically assigned to us, our titles slung across our shoulders as we engaged in friendly conversation and banter. Finally making it to the door, Freddie is the first to enter, Jarvis and myself following suit. Upon entering, Elizabeth Bates is inside, off to herself, thumbing through her phone, more than likely setting up future engagements for King.

 

Another successful night of business, if you ask me, I think it's time to celebrate!

 

“Aye mane, we couldn't have asked fa a betta night.. We all won our matches, Freddie y’brought Impact gold t'tha family! I thank it's time t'go kick it and celebrate!” I said interrupting the minor celebration that was going on.

 

With the smile that was formerly on his face, now replaced by confusion. Freddie questioned, “I know i might be caught up in the moment right now, but didn't you lose?”

 

“Does it matta?” I rebuttal, my teeth shining brightly, as I smile. “Plus, I got my trophy tonight too..” I say, walking over towards my gym bag and producing the mask I took off Crazy Chris. “Thank I'ma get dis shit put on a chain.”

 

“You're going to do what?” Elizabeth questioned, finally looking away from her phone.

 

“My bad, I'm gonna make a necklace outta it, I keep forgetting us southerners talk different from y'all folks up norf.”

 

“It's differently, and did you mean north?” She responded.

 

“It's whateva y’want it t'be shawty…”

 

With a sideye, she drops the conversation, returning back to her phone.

 

“But my guys! We got all’a tha gold, runnin’ dis shit, and we in tha ‘M’! My stompin' grounds, it's only right, we do it big tonight!”

 

“What you got in mind?” Freddie questioned.

 

“I kno’ dis spot, right around tha block on Beale, I’m in tha place almost every weekend when I'm home.”

 

“Sounds cool to me, I can't stay out long though, gotta get back home to my family.”

 

“Cool wit me, just a few drinks, nothing major. Just'a stroke of good faith, headin’ t'tha future of Tha Glass Ceiling. Ya in King?”

 

“Why the hell not!” Jarvis replied.

 

With a collective nod of agreement, we all went to preparing ourselves for the night to come. A night that was already memorable in its own rights. Jarvis successfully defending his Paramount Championship. Freddie proving to the world why he’s a bona fide Hall of Famer, by not only retaining the Tag Titles, but walking out with the Impact Championship. Then me, throwing down the gauntlet, showing the ‘Danger Boiz’ what it really is, when you fuck with someone like me. Like they say, ‘never throw stones at a glass house’.

 



 

I sat inside my living room, it wasn't much, but it suited me, ironically it was the same one where I was raised after my mother passed. A lot of countless hours, memories, family moments, all of it; the history within these walls were thick. There wasn't much furniture that occupied the room, saved for a couch, love seat, lamps, a couple end tables, and a flat screen television, attached to the wall.

 

With my personalized camera positioned in front of the love seat on which I sat, I pulled out a remote control, along with a blunt. Pressing record on the remote, I spark a flame, starting the ritual that ‘Duce’ has become accustomed to.

 

Exhale smoke.

 

“Ya payin’ attention yet?”

 

Takes drag, then exhales again.

 

“I mean are ya eyes open?” If ya ask me, I thank tha glass is becomin’ a bit mo’ clear! Cause in tha grand scheme’a thangs, y'all will eventually see it how we see it.”

 

Taking another pull, I look back, up onto the wall, where two pictures hang. One of my late mother, the other, a family portrait of Pops, Ariana, Sunny, November, and me.

 

“When it comes t’tha legacy of Duce Jones.. What I stand fo’ is right on dat wall! I'd die f'any one’a them.. But y'all kno’ dat.. I'd be lyin’ if I didn't say tha Jones name didn't hold weight. But it do, each man t’bare dat name, within tha wrestlin’ business, have cemented their own legacy unda’ dat banner..”

 

Pulling from the Swisher, with a French inhale, I exhale the smoke from my nose.

 

“It's my turn, dis is my moment! Tha time is NOW dat I cement my own.. Wit dat bein’ said, I thank I've been doin’ a pretty damn good job at dat! No explanations needed on why tha decisions were made t’bring Tha Glass Ceiling into existence… But afta Thursday night, there was a slight: shift in tha paradigm..”

 

A snicker escapes my body, soon turning into a chuckle, then becoming full blown laughter!

 

“My bad..”

 

I feel my eyelids become tighter, over my hazel brown eyes, as I take another puff off the magic dragon. I reach into my lap, grabbing my newfound trophy - the mask of Crazy Chris, now connected to a platinum, rope link chain necklace - I throw it around my neck. With my new accessory, positioned how I wanted it, I continued on.

 

“I don't kno' if folks noticed, but at times I don't have it all.. Y'never kno’ who's steerin’ tha ship. I can't believe I actually grew up idolizin’ tha fuckin’ ‘Danger Boiz’. I was one’a y'all biggest fans.. Real shit, picture a fourteen year old knucklehead, sellin’ dope t'buy Danger Boiz merchandize!”

 

Another laugh escapes.

 

“Tha shit was real, yea Pops was a big time professional wrestler, but we all kno’ those checks not as big as they're perceived t'be. Especially back then, I remember Pops having t’work fa like fo’ or five promotions, just t’make ends meet. Add t’tha fact his olda’ brotha owned a multi million dollar promotion, but treated him like any other employee, dat was employed by him. I might kno’ a thang or two bout earning y'keep.

 

So I did what I had too, Memphis might've been a big city, but there wasn't much fo’ a kid like me. Maybe imprisonment, death, yea there's dat. Professional wrestling was tha outlet, tha means to an end. Watchin’ guys like tha two of ya, my Pops, Tha Accelerator, countless others, they all set in motion what ya see in front of ya right now..”

 

Taking another pull off the blunt, I grabbed the mask from my chest, looking at it, the chain dangling from my neck. Then quickly letting it drape back to my chest, I look at the camera.

 

“What happened Thursday to Chris was far from personal.. Ok.. It kinda was, but fact is y'all started it, but I'm gonna finish it, and the two’a ya will be properly introDUCED!

 

See y'all round…”

 

With a salute, I grab the remote, pressing the end button as I'm done. Danger Boiz might have experience on their side, but at the end of the day, they've never come across a cat like me. I'm still young and I'm still learning, but I'm also learning from the best!

 

 



 

The Glass Ceiling had finally set foot on Beale Street, and looked set to have a good time! The popular Memphis street was flooded with a sea of humanity, people everywhere, walking up and down the long road. Bars and clubs set up on both sides, ready to distribute alcoholic beverages to the patrons who approached their respective businesses. Loud music filling the streets, the genre practically changing as we walked by different establishments.

 

 

“Holy fuck, this place is crowded! I thought they only did this kinda thing in Nawlings!” Jarvis exclaimed.

 

“It's a few places in dis country that do dis sorta thang. Guess folks like t'walk round and get dunk.”

 

“Ahhhhh… The American Way…” Jarvis replied with a confident grin. “ So where can a ‘brother’ get a shot of scotch?”

 

“Hell pick a place!”

 

“Any one of them?” Freddie intervene.

 

“Yup!” I responded, eyelids so tight, I could probably be mistaken for Asian at any moment. “It's whateva y'all wanna do!”

 

“Ahh! Let go of me!” Elizabeth yelled in distress.

 

Her screams catching all of our attention, a young black man, about in his late twenties, had caught her by surprise. Grabbing her hand to gain her attention as we were walking along the street.

 

“Damn bitch! You act like’a nigga was bout t'kidnap yo bean-head ass! Tha fuck y’too good fo'a nigga or somethin?! With yo… ‘I'm Miss America’ lookin’ ass!”

 

Styles, King, and Bates all stand there confused. The look on their faces were priceless if you asked me. After a quick shake of my head, I calmly walk over to the man, headbutting him across the bridge of his nose!

 

“Sooo, he was insulting Elizabeth?” Jarvis questioned dumbfounded.

 

“Muthafuckas don't know how t’deal wit rejection down here.. Dats how they handle it.”

 

“Haha, that happens in Atlanta as well, never understood it.” Freddie stated.

 

“Let's just go t’tha club and enjoy tha rest’a dis night. Especially befo’ tha laws show up, tryna lock me up fo’ knockin’ dis punk muthafucka out..”

 

We all made a hasty departure from the scene, making our way through the Memphians, we finally came to the front of a club called, 152.

 


 

The three storied building had become one of my favorite places to go to relieve stress, when I wasn't on the road. Which was a lot, but after the whole Byson Kaliban saga, I realized that I had been riding airplanes far often that I'd care to admit. But with that being said, I would catch a flight home the week before pay per views, just to clear my head and work shit out.

 

I frequent the club so often, that as soon as we approached the door, the bouncers let us in with no problem. We walk through the first floor crowd, as they jammed out to a live show, courtesy of a local band performing their own rendition of Bruno Mars’ hit song “That's What I Like”. We all take in the scene, making our way over to a flight of stairs that led towards the next two levels, I lead them passed the jam packed second floor. The crowd of people could be heard singing along with the rap music that blared through the speakers! Finally, reaching the third floor, we made our way through the large crowd to a booth, that I reserved before hand.

 


 

Having taken our seats, “Bigg Facts” by Moneybagg Yo jams through the speakers loud enough to shatter an eardrum, a waitress, no taller than 5’5” walked up. An attractive young woman, maybe the same age as me, wearing a black dress that hugged her caramel skinned body in all the right place.

 

“Hi! My name is Sierra, and I'll be your hostess for the night!” She exclaimed with a cheery attitude. “What can I get you guys started with?”

 

I smiled back at Sierra, my platinum teeth, glistening through the lights. “Y’can start by lettin’ me but ya a drank first!” I said flirting with her, causing her to smile.

 

“Duce you know, I'm not supposed to drink on the clock!” She replied back.

 

Truth be told, I had been to this club enough to already be acquainted with Sierra, but it was part of her job to introduce herself to the patrons, she was hosting. But she had already been properly introDUCED, if you know what I mean.

 

Wink.

 

“I already know, but right now.. Lemme get a bottle’a ya Johnnie Walker Red, ya already kno' t'keep tha Crown and Cokes comin’ all night! Annddd… Freddie y’want anythang?”

 

“I'm good man, just give me a bottled water, gotta drive to the airport soon!”

 

“Aight then!” I turn my attention back to her. “Well give em whateva they ask fo’, everythang on my tab! Tonight Tha Glass Ceiling is in the muthafuckin’ house!!”

 

She smiles, leaning towards me and whispering some things in my ear that I really didn't care to mention. Just know that I got my attention. Standing back up she left to go put in our order, now sitting there ready to enjoy the night with the guys, and Elizabeth, she was cool too.

 

 



 

“Empty threats. Empty promises. False ambition. Shattered dreams.”

 

Cough! Cough! Cough!

 

Coughing harshly, the scene springs to life as I now sit in a different room of my domain. Behind me on a shelf, sits two trophies, one for my Best of the Super Juniors tournament win in Japan. The other was the trophy given to me, by Sunset when I won CWF Survivor. Displayed on the wall behind them were the previous championship I had procured since signing with the company. The retired Academy Championship on the left, my first Tag Team Championship on the right, while my CWF World Championship was placed front and centered above them.

 

“I thank y'all startin’ t'crack.. I can see dat glass ceiling startin’ to shatter ova y'all heads. Tha very foundation of Tha Forsaken beginnin’ t'crumble round y'all. Those mind games y'all use t'play, no longa workin’ in y'all favor..

 

I got Taxi telling me dat I'm mad bout some pinfall lost, dat I've honestly have no clue bout. One thang dat need t'be clear is dat, not too many folks in dat locka room can say they pinned my shoulders t’tha mat! Seriously, you can count on TWO fingas, the people who've pinned me!”

 

I hold up two fingers to stress my point.

 

“Mia Rayne. Freddie Styles.

 

Only one person has ever made me tap, and she's no longa round. Or maybe I just misundastood exactly what y'meant. Eitha way at dis point, tha shit don't matta’.”

 

I rise from the chair, pulling a rolled blunt from behind my right ear, sparking a flame to the end of it.

 

“I kno’ y'all bout sick’a me and tha small habit I have, but let's be real, has it slowed me down so far?

 

Fuck no!”

 

Taking a drag, the medicinal marijuana soothes my body.

 

“Dis dat medical shit too, y’know fo’ my back and all.. Shit ain't been tha same in months..”

 

I take the time to stretch my back a bit.

 

“I probably should’ve kept dat t’myself… Oh well, it is what it is.. Thursday night at Evolution will be tha start of tha final chapter in tha story dat is Tha Forsaken…

 

It’s not just Styles, King, and me who are sick’a y'all shit. Jimmy Allen has made his issues known wit Hawk, Silas is ready to rip Tha Shadow’s head off, and pretty sho tha Rippa’ still gotta bone t'pick wit Taxi.. Then there's Loki Synn.. Tha plate is full fo’ y'all..

 

And everyone thank it's Tha Glass Ceiling who's going against tha world… “

 

Coughing soon followed by laughter.

 

“You thought!”

 

More laughter.

 

“Tha once beloved Forsaken, are nothin’ but a po’ man’s version of Ouroboros.. Yea.. I went there.. See during y'all quest to rid the CWF of what everybody thought were the ‘bad guys’ y'all made a few enemies along tha way. Wit y'all passive aggressive ways, feeble insults, bull headed thinking.

 

Did y'all not thank bout tha end game once tha smoke was cleared? Naw y'all were too caught up in y'all egos t’not see tha nigga picture. Dat once the necessary evil was gone, dat all eyes were gon be on y'all!”

 

I take a moment to take another hit.

 

“Y’know Taxi, I had called you a shell of ya former self. Then I thought about it, how’s dat even true, when ya not even tha same muthafucka who even wore dat mask when I was a kid. I guess I've smoked too much, cause it was when I was studying old GCWA dvds, fo’ when I gotta put my foot up tha Danger Boiz ass!

 

But it was Trent Steel who donned dat masked during dat time period. I mean, these are facts that ain't lost on me, but like I said, I've smoked since then.

 

But dat “Son of a Bitch” which he's so affectionately called, gave folks a reason to fear dat burlap sack dat y’wear ova y'face… Will tha real Ataxia please stand tha fuck up!”

 

I have a seat as I try to enjoy the high flowing through me. Plus head rushes are for the birds..

 

“Y'all losing it mane, I can see it.. It might be slow, but it's f’sho, and I'm willing t’place any bet on dat.

 

See I was tha one dat said, tha moment Hawk faced real competition for dat title he was gonna fold, and dat's exactly what he did when he faced Freddie. And trust me, dat in no way is me tryna down Jimmy Allen, cause I undastand tha situation and why ya played it tha way ya did. I even once said dat tha evidence could be all in y'all faces, y'all still would be blind t’tha facts, cause y'all heads so far up y'all own asses!

 

It's time to pull em out though, and open ya eyes t’tha fact dat y'all time is ova. Perhaps the end is drawin’ near, y’neva hear tha shot dat takes ya down.. Now y’dream’s a memory, and seems, mo’ true from far away.  Just like smoke dat fades and makes no sound.

Outta time, so say goodbye, what is y'alls, now is OURS!

 

I dump ashes onto the floor, then proceed to arrogantly throw my hands out towards the side of me.

 

“Cause when it comes t’tha Glass Ceiling, if y’not careful.. Ya gonna get smoked by a pair’a Aces and a King!”

 

A toothy grin forms across my lips, I take another hit off the blunt, pulling out my remote, pointing it towards the camera, and pressing the stop button.

 

 



 

Sierra’s moans were like music to my ears as I thrusted in and out of her. Beads of sweat dripping from my face as we fucked inside of the bathroom stall. My breathe was labored but heavy as pounded her, smacking cheeks, and pulling hair. Sierra loving every minute of it, if anyone were to walk into the restroom, they would probably think two gorillas were mating inside of the stall. It was good too, some of the best I've probably had in my short time of living on this earth.

 

To say I was shitfaced drunk would be an understatement. It was nearing 4 AM, Jarvis, Freddie, and Elizabeth had all enjoyed themselves and made their departures and times that were respectable for them. It really didn't make me any difference, I enjoyed myself with them, and I hoped I was able to show them a good time as well.

 

But it was my time, and I was having a hell of a time at the moment. This encounter wasn't anything new. For the better part of three months, me and Sierra would meet up like this, occasionally would we ever end up at each other's place of residence. Y.o.l.o right?

 

After finally climaxing, we stood inside of the stall, breathing heavily, fixing our clothes to make ourselves presentable. Before I could open the stall door, she placed her hand on my shoulder, stopping.

 

“Duce…” She said, her eyes slowly shifting towards the floor. “I think we need to talk.”

 

“Sup shawty?” I questioned, kinda knowing where this conversation was headed.

 

“This has been nothing but fun, getting to know you these past couple’a months and….”

 

“Ya pregnant huh?” I questioned, not even giving her a chance to drag the story out.

 

“Yea…”

 

“Dats cool, we never used rubbas anyway, it was bound t’happen…”

 

“So you're not upset?”

 

“Naw, why would I be?”

 

“I mean.. This did start off as just random fucking…”

 

“I kno’ but hey shit happens right.” I replied with an emotionless expression on my face. Really too drunk to care about anything. “Check dis shit shawty… I'm not gonna promise a happy life, marriage, or any of dat shit.. I'm on tha road fa majority of tha year. But I guarantee ya dis, dat baby gon be straight.”

 

She quickly hugged me, leaving me on the stall with a peck on the cheek. I took a seat on the toilet, really just trying to get my shit together. Those crown and cokes, didn't owe me a thing, but they had me really contemplating life decisions… But who really wants to do that on a toilet that didn't belong to them personally. I finally was able to compose myself, rising from the commode and waking out of the stall. I made my way over towards the mirror, drunkly staring at the reflection of myself. I turned the right knob as cold water flowed into the sink. Filling up my hands with water, I splash it over my face, if only to try and wake up a bit.

 

Raising my head to look at my reflection, I noticed that it was standing there, arms folded, shaking his head at me.

 

“Soooo… This is what you doing?”

 

Befuddled I answered back.

 

“Get outta my fuckin head!”

 

“Outta your head? You want me outta your head? Have we not forgotten how you're the one who was originally fucking with me? Everything was fine, I had finally gotten rid of Byson, I was living my life, like a normal person, then…. BOOM! This fuck shit happens, I thought I got rid of you a long time ago!

 

“Hahaha! You thought!” I drunkingly replied back as I pointed at my reflection. At that very moment, a guy entered the restroom and was staring at me in disbelief. “What!? Neva seen a muthafucka talk t’themself!? GET THA FUCK OUTTA HERE!!

 

“Tsk. Tsk. You can't even control yourself, how can you control the whole ship?”

 

“I Got Dis!”

 

“Listen to you, you sound as if you flunked your eighth grade English class. That's why they boo you, that's why those fans no longer have respect for you. Meanwhile it was ME who had this shit under control! Not you, ME!”

 

“You let Byson have his fun fo’ a while, why can't I!?”

 

“Nigga! You had your time, and you almost got us locked up! Do you not remember?”

 

“Mane you kno’ we a thug t’tha very bottom of our soul! No matta who tried t'run tha ship, tha outcome always gon be tha same! Have y’not learnt dat shit yet?”

 

“That's not the future I want for us, we are so much more than wasting away behind concrete blocks! I WILL get control back, and we WILL live the right way! Whether any of y'all like it or not!”

 

“Bitch, fuck you!”

 

I screamed, punching the mirror and shattering it, shards of reflective glass falling into the sink. In a fit of rage, I glance down at my right hand, which now has blood flowing down my knuckles into the sink. Quickly nursing it with tissue, lots of tissue, I pull my phone from my pocket, quickly entering the contacts. Finding the contact in looking for I quickly press the call button.

 

I waited patiently, for the other end to pick up, examining the damage done to my hand. Finally, the line was answered.

 

“Aye Byson…. We gotta talk!”

 

I say into the phone as I listen for his response, the scene soon fading out.



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