The Story of a Epic Comeback

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Carmine's Shit hole of an Apartment
San Diego, California
Thursday, July 15th 2011
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[What I see in a mirror, isn't what you see.]

[It was raining out again, but it didn't bother me anymore. It had been like this for weeks now, figures the first time I move out west I get nothing but the shit end of a California rain system. The unrelenting downpours relinquishing any chance of a good mood. But regardless, rain or not, my days were still shit. See, there is a lot about me that people don't know. Well, fuck it, they probably do. Most of the assumptions about me were dead on. I'm not one of those complex, emo pricks, shielding their agony from the unsuspecting human eye. Nah, I was more of the type of guy who'd let you know how I feel. If I didn't like you, you'd know]

[I never liked fake faggots]

[I was supposed to go for a job interview on Monday, but I ended up getting high. Same thing on Tuesday. These days the offers for a exile promoter are few and in-between]

[I was blacklisted everywhere I went]

[I picked up a few habit's on my way to rock bottom.]

[Crystal meth.]

[Sometimes coke]

[Crack]

[Heroin]

[All of the above]

[Now before you judge me; yes, I was brought up in a healthy environment. Upper class family, my parents were known throughout the community for their contributions. I lived the American Dream so to speak.]

[Well, they thought I did.]

[See, most people cope with their stresses conventionally. They smoke cigarettes, hit the gym, or simply scream until they lose their voice. Not me, I snort meth. I pop painkillers, and cook cocaine.]

[Call it what you want, it gets me by.]

[Now for those of you tallying up the score, and looking at me like I'm the piece of shit they wouldn't piss on, good for you. Being a piece of shit never bothered me, it's me. I don't tell you how to work your nine to five job, or how to fuck your wife. It's simple; I do it because I survive.]

[But that's not even the twist to this winding road.]

[You'd probably be suprised to know I lack the track marks. Ah, well, it was never my cup of tea.]

[A couple rails of cocaine sat on the cracked mirror in front of me. Soon enough they'd be sucked up, and I'd be in a better place, ridding myself of these fucking shakes.]

[Before I was able to devour the gaggers, I caught the presence of the bitch.]

[When I call her that, I certainly mean it. This girl, was always around when I was gettign fucked up. It was as if she had some sort of sixth sense, able to predict when I had an illegal substance in front of me. She wasn't even attractive at that, but when your fucked up, any kind of pussy looks healthy.]

[If I described this whore, you'd be sick to your stomach, so I'll save you the trouble. Think of the skinny, scabbed up bitch that you see feigning in some empty alleyway, it'd be this bitch.]

[I could try to ignore her, but it'd be useless. She was like a fucking mosquito buzzing around an open wound. It usually took more than one closed fist to send her home. I wasn't in the mood tonight.]

- Crack Whore -
"Hey."

[She said, itching her neck, scratching off the scabbed skin.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
"What the fuck do you want? Find a home."

[God I hated this bitch. Half the time I forgot her name. Heather, Brooke, Fuck, it could've been Cunt for all I know.]

- Crack Whore -
"Can I have one?"

[She asked, this time itching furiously against her neck.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
"You got money, bitch?"

[She kind of looked down, her broke ass didn't know what to say. I could bet you a thousand dollars right now saying she'd offer up that nasty pussy of hers. Too bad I didn't have a thousand dollars.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
"Get the fuck outta here. I'm leaving soon. After I do these myself."

[I said, emphasizing on the myself part.]

- Crack Whore -
"Come on, Carmine, you know we can work out something."

[She pleaded, the desperation in her voice was stronger than ever]

- Carmine Vestieri -
"Fuck That. You and your nasty pussy need to get out of here now, before I get you out myself."

[I said, as I placed the mirror from my legs on to the floor. As she saw this, she tried to make a quick dash to the mirror, but was stopped in her track and planted in to the wall.]

[I didn't feel good beating the fuck out of this cunt, but it just worked out that way. She was scum, and apparently so was I. No one cared about her anyways, I was doing her a favor.]

[Normally, if it had been any other girl, they would've looked up wide eyed, shcked at the fact I had just thrown her in to a wall full force. But this whore was getting used to it. Made me think she loved the abuse. She attempted to pull herself up and make another frantic dash towards the cocaine, but this time was met with a fist to the mouth. She slumped to the floor, bleeding. I give her credit, she had yet to cry in front of me. This bitch had lived a tough life.]

[Haha, like I gave a fuck.]

[Grabbing her by the hair, I dragged her to the door and tossed her out. Not without her clawing the shit out my arms, digging in deep enough to draw blood. She screamed bloody murder as if I was gonna kill her. Who knows, maybe down the road I would. I thought it was funny she was screaming more about not getting the cocaine rather than getting the shit kicked out of her.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
"Go fuck yourself. Don't come back or I'll kill you. I swear bitch!"

[I said, as I tossed her out the door, a small clump of her hair still wrapped around my fingers.]

[Before slamming the door in her face, I could hear her last few words.]

- Crack Whore -
"Fuck you man, you're dead. Pablo is gonna fucking kill you. I swear to god you fucking prick!"

[She had screamed. I leaned against the door, laughing to myself as I thought about that. Pablo would have his throat slit the second he walked in to my door.]

[That was truth.]

[Sighing, I walked back in to the tiny, discolored living room. Picking back up the mirror, and holding the straw, I snorted up the first of the three lines.]

[Finally.]

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San Diego, California
Friday, July 15th 2011
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- Carmine Vestieri -
"Breathe"

[I continued to tell myself as a large black boot stood atop my throat, cutting off any sort of oxygen intake. Boy, like this hadn't felt familiar over the past couple of months.]

[If it hadn't been this monkey's boot, it would've been another.]

[See, I had already surpassed the sit down part of this. That had been a few months ago, when he had told me calmly; get me my money. When he didn't see the return, there had been phone calls, knocks at the door, and a couple of broken noses for his goons.]

- Igor -
"You see where the complexity of this situation is, Carmine?"

[Igor Ricci bellowed from behind his goons. Lazy prick hadn't had the audacity to beat my ass himself.]

[Coward.]

[Igor was one of the head honchos of the South Cali Mafia. You might wonder why I was dealing with this uncivilized pricks. Well, that is more complex of an answer, than it would be to explain how I even got in to this mess. Easiest way to put it; I owed them money.]

[They wanted to collect.]

[I tried to respond, but the only sounds released from my mouth at this point were throaty gurgling sounds, and spit. I felt like I was in Gunther's locker room.]

[I laughed to myself at the thought; which ended up in another ring covered back]

[Sometimes it's funny the way my mind wonders in such situations as the one before me. You'd think I'd be looking for a way out of this. Maybe a squirm one way, and a shift the other, and I could wrestle this monster's foot off from my throat. Eh, would more than likely be wasted energy anyways. If I got past one, the second would clobber me back down to the floor. Lose, lose in my opinion.]

- Igor -
"You see Carmine, I have the suspicion that I won't be seeing my money for a while. I can see you've let yourself go. I mean, when's the last time you've gone to get one of those expensive pedicures?"

[Prick.]

[Had to shit on me in every aspect. Fuck, back when he was trailing me constantly, he had caught me coming out of some
ritzy nail salon. I had been fucking the owner, and received the occasional massage. Asshole hadn't let it die after all these months.]

- Igor -
"Ruchin, take you foot off his throat, I'd like to hear this punk's answers."

[The silverback gorilla took his foot off from my throat, his twelve ton frame backing away a few steps. Wrapping my hands around my throat, and attempting to rub the pain away, I looked back up at Igor. His eyes were a icy blue, emotionless, and fearful. If he actually knew what that emotion was.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
"The fuck do you wanna know?"

[As soon as I finished the sentence, I caught a large fist to the stomach. Letting out a groan, as the air escaped through my windpipe, I crumpled to the floor, huffing and puffing, trying to regain my wind. As I slowly began to recover, I pushed my self back up to all fours, my arms burning with pain.]

- Igor -
"Now, you ignorant prick. I will ask again. Where the fuck is my cash?"

[Igor asked again, slamming his fist on my wall in emphasis. Fucking prick and his broken English.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
"What money? Take a look around, I live in a shit hole!"

[I replied, as I caught a second fist; this time it caught me in the side of the face. Blood and spit flew from my mouth with it's impact, and again, I found myself slumped in a miserable pile on the floor. I heard Igor mutter something in Italian, and I figured I'd be catching a couple more blows.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
"Fuck Igor.. Were not in the old country.. speak the American language."

[I said in a broken sentence, making the next two kicks far more tolerable.]

[Laying on the floor, the side of my face flat on the floor, I watched Igor standup and walk over to me. I noticed his snakeskin shoes, and pinstriped pant legs. Fucking Italians and are horrible style. You'd think after living in the U.S. for a couple years, he'd know what tacky meant.]

- Igor -
"Now Carmine, I don't want these guys to hit you any longer. You have balls, I'll give you that. Not much upstairs, but you got balls. I just wanna know when you're going to have my money. I think I've been rather patient. Don't you?"

[He said, staring down at me, as I spit a mixture of phlegm, blood, and my gums on to his boot. You'd think I'd relax a bit, take the beating and shut the fuck up. But of course not, the last word was my specialty.]

[That and sarcasm.]

[At this point, Igor reached around to the back of his waistline and pulled out a gun. One of his gorillas came over and propped his foot back on to my throat as he stuffed the barrel in to my mouth. Great, I thought, that seven ton trailer is going to relax himself again.]

[Right back where we started.]

- Igor -
"See Carmine, I'm going to make you a deal. I'm a businessman, you're a businessman. You're going to work for me, making the money back."

[Igor said, the cold, steel barrel of his gun rattling against my teeth, each time the dirty Ginny moved.]

- Igor -
"I helped you when you needed money for that night club of yours, now it's time to return the favor. I've come to the realization that I won't be seeing any sort of payment soon, So you can take care of a couple problems for me."

[He said, repeating himself. Fucking idiot always did it. I had heard him the first time, now it was just overkill. And as for the taking care of problems ordeal, I figured I'd be pulling out my Desert Eagle soon enough.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
"I'm sure we can work something out."

[I said, the barrel forcing me to mumble the words. He answered with stuffing the barrel furtherdown my throat, almost sending me to the point of vomiting. If someone had written a book on what not to say in a moment like this, I would've covered every page.]

- Igor -
"I'm glad we still have a sense of humor, Carmine. We'll see how long that lasts."

[He said, pulling the barrel from my mouth, his goons foot still firmly on my throat. His sheer mass seemed to bear down harder and harder. In a smooth controlled motion, the monkey released his foot, and jerked me up, dusting me off.]

- Igor -
"We'll be in touch. Clean yourself off, and get the fuck out."

[Igor said softly, still calm as ever, while tossing a white handkerchief in my direction. Catching it, I almost wiped my face, but selected not to. Dropping the rag on the floor, I turned and headed towards the door. I caught my look in the mirror, and could see the blood caked all over the right side of my face. My throat was swollen and sore, same with the right side of my face.]

[Smiling, I adjusted the fit of my shirt at the collar, and turned away. That was right before I turned and gave everyone in the room a cocky smug smirk]

- Carmine Vestieri -
"Igor, fella's, Go fuck yourselves!"

Bullets rang out and whizzed right by my head as I bolted down the stairs, heralding crack heads like it was an Olympic sport. The goons were hot on my tail by the time I got into the court-yard. I took one look up and spotted Igor]

[Boy was he pissed]

- Igor -
"Mark my words Carmine, by nights end I'll eighter have your balls hanging on my wall or my money. Promise you that, you smug motherfucker!"

[I gave him the bird before taking off running, I headed into a direction I haven't been to in almost three years. I just hope the place was still in decent shape]

[Fuck, I hope it was still open]

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Outside of the Legacy Bar
San Diego, California
Friday, July 15th 2011
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[I was panting heavily as I ran down a back alleyway, trying to make as little noise as possible. I couldn’t afford to give these two monkeys any clue where I was running to.[

[I caught my breath, which burned my lungs every time I inhaled. But I couldn't stop running, not after what I just pulled. I started to sprint down the back alleyway, a smirk took over my face at the sight of the old back door. The door that I knew would lead me to a place that I used to call home for so long. I didn’t know if the place was still even open, after all, the main source of revenue came from NLWF and it’s former owner, Aaron O’Shea. But when NLWF went belly up, I had lost contact with AOS and everyone else from that fucking hell hole. I haven't been back to The Legacy Bar since. “It’s ironic,” if you thought about it that I am seeking refuge from mafia goons in a bar that used to be owned by a guy who had a notorious drinking and drug problem.]

[But it was too late to think of an alternative plan now. I quickly sprint up to the backdoor of the bar and grabs the handle. Luckily, the door was unlocked and I didn't hesitate to duck inside the door, making sure to close the door carefully behind me]

[The place looked like it always has. An alcoholic's dream. Fading rays of sunlight shine in through the extremely dirty and dust covered windows that once were clean and clear. There was a thin film of dust that coast everything except for the jukebox in the corner and the bar itself. There are one or two patrons sitting at the bar, each one has a deeply depressed and forlorn look on their face. This place was once the most happening and busiest bar in the greater San Diego area…but now, now it was nothing more than a ghost of the amazing bar that it once was.]

[A pang of sadness shoots through my body as I take a hard look around the bar. I could recall a time when I and some of the other members of the NLWF roster had come here after a show and been mobbed with fans. We use to drink until we could no longer stand and then gone home with as many women as we could handle. I walk up to a photograph on the wall and a rush of emotions come back to me as I see my face staring back at me]

[A small smile creeps across my face as I reach out and take the photo down off the wall. I grab a bit of my shirt that didn't have any of my blood on it and wipe the thin film of dust off the frame of the picture]

- Igor -
Remember the good old days?

[I didn't even have to look up to know who it was]

- Carmine Vestieri -
I sure do Aaron

[I put the picture back on the wall and turned around to see my good ol' friend Aaron. Aaron O’Shea, or as he was also known as, AOS…the years hadn’t been good to him. Not that I looked any better at the moment. AOS was once the most obsessive drug and alcohol abuser that I had ever laid eyes on. The years of abusing every substance known to mankind had finally taken its toll on good ol AOS…which only reminded me more of the years spent away from NLWF.]

- Aaron O'Shea -
What brings you here old friend?

[Before I could even say another word, I hear a voice suddenly scream something in Italian outside of the bar. A look of anxiety suddenly appears across my face as my eyes dart reflexively towards the back door of the bar.]

[A smirk appears on AOS’ face as he follows my gaze to the back door of the bar]

- AOS -
I know that look…come on

[AOS turns and motions for me to follow him. I had no choice but to follow him, it was follow him or find myself sleeping with the fishes. I quickly trail behind AOS, who leads Me behind the bar and into a back room. AOS walks over to a large stack of dust covered beer crates. He leans down and presses his shoulder against the beer crates. Instead of the pile of crates toppling over though, the entire stack of crates moves, revealing a secret room.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
A panic room?

[AOS chuckles as he finishes moving the crates and stands up]

- AOS -
Like I said…I’ve been in your position before mate. Now hide inside there while I deal with your unwelcome guests

[I nodded my head appreciatively and duck inside the secret room. AOS shoot me a smirk, reassuringly before leaning down and pushing the stack of crates back over the entrance to the small speakeasy room]

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[I couldn't make out what was going on inside the bar. But just as the scuffle noises begun, they ended and AOS opened up the Scooby-Do style secret passage, AOS walks into the backroom]

- AOS -
Your lucky you have friends

[I wasn't sure if they knocked AOS for a loop, but I was the last guy on this planet that had any friends.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
There gone?

- AOS -
If they weren't I wouldn't be standing here

[Everyone has a price, and looking around this piss spot called a bar, I wouldn't be surprise if AOS set me up. But what other options did I have? I sucked it up and made my to the bar]

[I spotted who AOS called my friends, and was tempted to turn around and head back into the panic room]

- Carmine Vestieri -
Corey Casey?

[Corey dusted off the stole in-between himself and VVR]

- Corey Casey -
Take a seat Carmine…we have much to discuss

[I had no idea who VVR was, and was ready to tell them to go fuck themselves until I noticed the goons lying broken and defeated]

- Carmine Vestieri -
What happened here?

- Corey Casey -
I paid your tab Carmine…and sent a message for you

[He didn't have to say another word, I took my seat at the table. AOS suddenly appeared with three beers, the guy still knew me like a fucking book.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
Why? I’m not a part of your “New Dawn of Failure” anymore…why bail me out?

- Corey Casey -
I need a favor Carmine…And by the looks of things, you owe me one

[Smug fuck, I should have figured he would hold this over my head, still it was Corey Casey I was dealing with, wasn't like he was a threat to me in my days in NLWF]

- Carmine Vestieri -
I owe the whole fucking world a favor

- Corey Casey -
But mine's the only one that gets you back on your feet, unless you like being the future AOS

[That's almost as bad as becoming Amy Whinehouse]

- Carmine Vestieri -
What's this favor, and what's it gonna cost me?

- CC -
A second chance that's what it pays you.

- VVR -
That and the clean record with your friends

[They couldn't say anything better then that. It would be like having the weight of the world off my head not worrying about Igor and his band of thugs]

[I took a swig of the beer AOS hooked it up with, I wasn't sure who VVR was. But the kid looked to have some sort of promise to him]

- Carmine Vestieri -
What do you want in return for all this Corey?

- CC -
I need a judge for 'Heroes Also Die'

- Carmine Vestieri -
You did all this just for me to be a judge? You must be fucking desperate

- CC -
It gets better ... I need these people fired

- Carmine Vestieri -
So fire them

- CC -
It's not that easy

[Corey always loved to beat around the bush, I took a look at the list CC slide across the table]

- Carmine Vestieri -
I haven't been inside a wrestling arena in years

- CC -
A new start! You do this and I can promise you a six figure contract with IWF

[One thing about CC, guy knew how to sell shit to yea]

- Carmine Vestieri -
A comeback ... I like the sound of that

- CC-
One more thing, Tim Patrick ... The shit stain has been a fucking thorn in my ass, I just don't have the time to deal with him. I have a world title that I need to get back

[I took another look at the motionless goons.]

- Carmine Vestieri -
After I deal with Timmy, I owe you nothing

- CC -
You owe me your career

[CC smirked before getting up and walking away from are table. I guess miracles do really happen]

[Tim Patrick]

[Now that was easy money]