Homecoming

[Toxxic 0]

Toxxic, the Straight-Edge Sensation, the leader of Revolution Zero and SWF World Heavyweight Champion sits on the stone steps of the Council House in Nottingham’s Old Market Square and suppresses a shiver as the cold air of this dark November evening bites at his skin. Beyond the edges of the square, half-hidden by other buildings, sits the shiny new Travelodge Inn at the head of Maid Marian Way, the location of his lodging tonight; his, and the rest of Revolution Zero.

 

It’s changed since I was last here, not even a year ago. The building where I’m sleeping tonight was still being built. The flashy new tram system wasn’t running, although it was messing up traffic well enough. It’s changed... I’ve changed.

 

Toxxic had decided to use Nottingham as his base of operations the moment he heard the SWF was coming to the UK. On Saturday night he and the rest of Rev-0 -minus Sacred, who had preferred to stay separate- had stopped in a hotel in Manchester, but not before Toxxic had introduced them to Jilly’s Rockworld. The club had seemed a perfect place to soothe tempers, but the measure had only partly worked. Sean and Marcus had been uncomfortable, although it had been amusing to watch a space clear for the Perfect Storm in the moshpit the moment the big man had showed an interest in joining in. Jet, predictably, had loved every minute, while Spike... had just seemed cold. Toxxic had taken it as nothing more than jet lag or unfamiliarity, but events backstage at Ashes 2 Ashes had made it very clear what Hollywood’s problem had been. Now the Straight-Edge Sensation is back in his home city, the only World Champion since Genesis IV to retain his title on Pay-Per-View, at the head of the most menacing force in the business, and all he can do is worry about if he’s made a mistake.

 

It should have worked, bringing in Sacred. The guy’s a former World Champion, he’s gone toe-to-toe with the best including Edwin fucking MacPhisto, and even in the later parts of his career he was still a force to be reckoned with. He gave the US title a credibility matched by hardly anyone. But I didn’t tell anyone that he was joining us, and that came back to bite me. Sean’s unhappy and Spike’s went downright hostile, although he was a bit happier after both he and I won last night. But I know they’re going to blame Sacred for the tag loss. Sean spearing him was an accident, but still...

 

Tomorrow, Toxxic knows, the plans are set. They don’t have to be in Dublin until Friday morning, although they’re planning on taking a flight over on Thursday. Tuesday is going to be a day of relaxation -just as well, considering the battering Annie gave him- when he will guide Jet and the others (assuming they want to come) around some of Nottingham’s sights. The straight-edger is looking forward to returning to some of his old haunts; Nottingham Castle; Ye Olde Trip To Jerusalem, the oldest Inn in England; even wandering around the Broadmarsh and Victoria shopping centres will be a pleasant reminder of the past when a simple phrase wouldn’t set tens of thousands of people screaming for his blood, and being in possession of a belt wouldn’t make some of the most dangerous men and women outside of psychiatric institutions want to start hitting him.

 

Oh yeah, thinking of psychiatric hospitals... I’ve got Carnage to look forward to. Lucky, lucky me. Still, better him than another match with Annie, I guess.

 

Wednesday is lined up as well - a trip to Sherwood Forest (the Americans had been very insistent about that, despite his assurances that there was nothing of Robin Hood left there), and then he and Jet are going to visit his parents. His parents, who have never met their only son’s girlfriend before. His parents, still living in Radford and still refusing his offer of buying them a house in a more pleasant area of the city. His parents, who although not approving of wrestling had fully supported their son’s efforts to follow his dream. They’d only watched his first few matches, stopping after witnessing the gorefest that had been the 200 Lightubes HGC match of Toxxic vs Aecas at From The Fire. His parents, who as a result had no idea that he had subsequently fallen from the graces of the crowd and relied for news solely on what he told them. They’d been delighted to hear of his title wins, ecstatic when he had breathlessly informed them that he was now World Heavyweight Champion, recognised as the best in the business.

 

I suppose I should probably leave Spike out of this one. It’s going to be bad enough making sure Naomi behaves herself...

 

Toxxic looks around, at the various people still dotted around the square even this late at night. Up the road, he knows, Obsessions is taking place at O’Rileys. Tempting as it is to go clubbing again the thought of witnessing all those 16 year-olds pretending to be old enough to drink does not appeal, and he decides it would be best to wait until Rock City tomorrow night.

 

Some things never change. The one time I spoke to Chris Card he told me he used to practically live at Rock City on a tuesday. Before my time, I guess.

 

With a grunt, partly of effort and partly from the pain in his ribs, Toxxic hoists himself up off the steps and pauses to pat the stone lion next to him. Some things never do change. Earlier that day, when the others were out of earshot, Jet had asked him a simple question - how long can he keep proving people wrong? How long can it go before eventually, they’re proved right? His goal had been to retain the title on Pay-Per-View - where does he go now? She hadn’t been asking to mock him or get at him; she had simply wanted to know. And now, as Toxxic sets off across the paved area still being used (illegally) as a skate park by after-dark daredevils, he thinks he knows the answer.

 

A bit longer yet. As long as I’ve got this place behind me and I know I can come back to it, I’ll remember who I am and who I was. And as long as I can do that, I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me. This is what’s real.

 

Slowly, in some pain, but with a lopsided grin spread across his face, the Straight-Edge Sensation wanders across Old Market Square, across the tramlines and heads off towards his room where his girlfriend is waiting. It’s hard to be World Champion all the time. Sometimes you just have to be a 21 year-old who’s come home for a little while.

[Guest The Satanic Angel]

Insightful and detailed. Nothing wrong with that.

 

Nice promo, Toxx.