The alarm on his watch had gone off reminding Jeremy of a AMA session he’d scheduled months back. He looked at the alarm as if were foreign and mindlessly, his body went into autopilot going to his phone, starting the stream in his HWA app, and stared at the screen. Hundreds of fans signed in, then there were a few thousand. The only indication the screen wasn’t frozen was his eyes blinking. It’s like he wasn’t even there, and the comments came flooding in.

“I believe in you Jeremy!”

“The beard has to go but I don’t care, he’s still fuking hot.”

“What’s wrong? Maniac got your tongue?”

“I came to see Matt walk around in his undies in the background again”

“This is what mental health looks like…sad!”

“Jerry…Jerry…Jerry!”

“Wait…did it start…what’s going on?”

“Maniac has to go!”

“Who’s ready for next Havoc?....this guy!”

“OMG….is that his house?”

On and on the messages continued until suddenly, once more on autopilot, Jeremy rose from his seat not saying a word a look of alertness on his face as if he just heard a noise or something had just come to mind and he began speaking out loud to himself.

(Jeremy): This place reeks of sweat and rot, there’s this pile of clothes in the hallway next to the washer, and the trashcan in the kitchen is overflowing. I hadn’t noticed, or maybe I had, once, weeks ago, but the smell had blended into the background like everything else outside the single, blazing thought in my mind: Maniac.

“What the hell…dude is trippin”

“Where is Matt? Is he seeing this?”

“Is he reading something? I thought this was a AMA”

(Jeremy): He had blindsided me at Fatality…despite my efforts he walked away with the HWA Championship. How could Stu-E let that happen? He was too focused on making a grand entrance instead of keeping that belt out of Maniac’s hands. I saw them together on his bus, talking for a solid hour like old friends catching up. It disgusted me. The HWA World Champion sitting with the scum who has ruined what Matt rebuilt. What Sean, and Michelle, and Sarah and I rebuilt. It wasn't just Maniac’s win, it was how he smiled afterward, how he hammed it up for the cameras and “thanked” me as if I helped him, as if I wished him well. The posters at headquarters, all the marketing they quickly rolled out with his fuking face plastered over everything in that ridiculous new get-up of his looking like a demented circus freak.

“Not gonna lie, they did put those posters and shit up real quick!”

“Some people here don’t know anything about how a business works.”

“I think those plants are dead. What kind were they?”

(Jeremy): And then there was Butch. I guess our little chat had become talk of the town. I don’t care what anyone says, everything I said was true. He and Wisdom have lost my respect because they don’t respect us anymore. We saved this company, but all we were, were a bunch of life vests keeping it afloat. The moment Maniac showed back up they acted like he was the rescue boat and hopped on ignoring the holes and water creeping in.

“Damn…he said life vests!”

“Die hard Parker fan but man…this dude is screaming for help”

“I know how to comfort him…DM me Jeremy!”

Jeremy continues ranting as he walks or rather paces around in circles.

(Jeremy): I couldn’t wait for Havoc. To team with Hans and show Stu-E that he’d made a grave mistake, but more importantly to get my hands on Maniac. Hans is the only man in this company who can see what’s in front of him. Then Stu-E no-shows Havoc. Sean was right about him, he’s pathetic. I tried with him, but one minute he’s singing your praises and the next he’s calling you “cookie-cutter” and blaming everyone’s lack of appreciation for his sense of humor for our misunderstanding. Sean saw right through him, just like I see through Maniac.

“I wish I could see through his pants right now!”

“Did Stu-E really quit? Shit!”

“Is he still doing the AMA, or what is this?

“I hope he doesn’t have pets, they probably starved to death and died somewhere in that apartment.”

(Jeremy): It didn’t matter, I didn’t care who teamed with Maniac at Havoc I got what I wanted. I got my hands on him. If he didn’t see me coming before, he sees me now and I don’t care what Butch says. I’ll do whatever it takes to get to him. Butch doesn’t own my fuking free time. I had him. The moment came in the match for me to do to him what he’d done to Matt, end his career. I didn’t need the Room of Thumbtacks match, the opportunity had presented itself and I took it, but his demon intervened. It only bought him some time. He knows I can hurt him now. He knows I’m not some irrelevant noob he can ignore.

“Anybody got cell phone footage of what went down?”

“Ya’ll know he just acting right? It’s all scripted!”

“Jeremy gave Butch a black eye, that’s why he wasn’t at Havoc!”

Still with his phone in hand he walked to the bathroom.

(Jeremy): The mirror in here is fogged with grime. When did it get like this? I stare at it every morning but didn’t see the man in the reflection anymore. Who is he? He looks familiar. His hair, once trimmed into a sharp undercut, now longer of months growth, curled down in greasy wisps, clinging to his temples. The beard had come in uneven….patchy on the left, bushy under his chin. His face looked older somehow, gaunt and pale, like the color had bled from his skin in his sleep. Who the hell was he?

“Who the fuk is he talking to?”

“This is worse than we thought, where is his family, his friends?”

“#intervention”

“I swear to god if he takes a piss right now, I’ll lick this fuking screen!”

Jeremy walks out of the bathroom to the kitchen and stands there looking around lost until he approached the fridge. The fridge light flickered on as I opened it. It was empty, except for a half-jar of pickles floating in yellow-green brine. The rest were condiments, and a bag of I think rotted lettuce in the vegetable bin he opens.

(Jeremy): I only got this a few days ago how could it be rotten? It was a few days ago….wasn’t it?

“So that’s how he keeps that body…some secret pickle diet!”

“This is Maniac’s fault, he drove him to this, he must be stopped!”

“I remember when wrestlers just cut picture in picture promos for 30 seconds!”

His phone pings and Jeremy sees a string of missed text message from Sarah along with the newest one.

Sarah: You okay? Haven’t heard from you in days.

Sarah: Boy…you better text me back!

Sarah: Have you talked with Sean or Michelle?

Jeremy looked confused as if trying to recall the names.

(Jeremy): Sean or Michelle? I talked to them didn’t I? I’m sure I did. I’m sure I called to check on them, didn’t I? Michelle had said…..wait….what did she say? I don’t remember. No, it was Sean. Sean said…..I know he told me something, didn’t he? What was it? My head hurts, it will come to me later.

“Azami did fuk Sean up though, like seriously!”

“My cousin acted just like this before he got sober, praying for you Branson.”

“That wall is like some CSI shit…you see that?”

Jeremy sits down on the kitchen floor. Something cracked beneath him…an unopened envelope in a pile of mail. He picks it up without reading it and tosses it into the pile with the rest……red-stamped envelopes, utility bills, and a jury summons from two months ago.

(Jeremy): I should care. I used to care, but the vision of Maniac fill my mind constantly. That smug, ugly grin. The cheap circus t-shirts selling out like they were being given away. I bet he does give them away. How stupid can people be to really buy them?

“He mad he don’t have a new t-shirt…LOL!”

“I’m just in tears, this is so sad…poor Jeremy!”

“Can anybody see the address on those envelopes?...asking for a friend!”

Jeremy rose to his went into the living room and swept a pile of protein bar wrappers off the coffee table. There, spread out like a true-crime investigation, was a bit of his research… stills from matches, photos of Maniac out in public, printouts of Maniac's social media posts, his bus stops, scribbled notes in Sharpie…. “Favor with ref?” “Why is Butch protecting him?” “Look for old injuries!” “Mandy = leverage?” “Lunatik is an issue” “Wolfy’s death at his home a cover-up”

(Jeremy): I’m not crazy, I’m not obsessed, the line between strategy and fixation is there somewhere. Matt, Sean…it’s up to me now. I will make this right. I will bring everything back to the way it was, the way it should be. I will end him, and anyone who gets in my way.

“He needs Jesus!”

“Jeremy’s so underrated, I hope gets his push!”

“He look like he drank that whole bottle of Draconis moonshine he had.”

Jeremy goes to the table and grabs a pen, begins mumbling as he scribbles down things. The thousands of viewers is down to hundreds and ignorant of them all he’s also unaware that his phone is dying and it shuts off ending the live feed that abruptly goes black!