The ref tried to talk Tojo into taking an outside corner of the ring. The ref responded to Tojo's intimidating stare and violent posturing by threatening a fine and disqualification. Tojo finally relented. Eli and Amosa finally got back in the ring. The ref flipped a coin and determined Eli and Amosa as the two who would start the match.
Amosa pulled Eli aside and motioned heavily to Tojo. It looked as if the two were planning to work against the Crimson Demon. They shook hands to seal a deal and locked up in the center of the ring. There was some technical back and forth, arm locks and reversals. They paid respect to one another, but most knew that Amosa had a shorter fuse and would get frustrated soon enough and try to get the upper hand with a short cut or two.
As Amosa and Eli went back and forth, it became obvious that the two had agreed to stay away from the Crimson Demon's corner.
Amosa and Eli locked up in the center of the ring again and Amosa whipped Eli into a turnbuckle. He charged in but the quick youth moved as Amosa splashed the corner. He bounced back and Eli went for a small package. Amosa kicked out at two and caught his breath on his knees.
He smiled begrudgingly and stood, extending a hand to Eli. Eli looked to the audience. They warned him not to, of course, but he took Amosa's hand anyway. Amosa turned it into a short clothesline and put Eli flat on his back. Amosa shrugged and reminded everyone that this was for the title. He covered Eli and the ref dropped to the mat to give a three count. Tojo rushed in to the ring and kicked Amosa in the back of the head, interrupting the count. Tojo used his five second grace period to go back to his post.
Taking exception, Amosa walked closer to Tojo's corner and started an impromptu pose session. He acted as if he was turning his attention back to Eli, and then he quickly rushed and sucker punched Tojo off of the corner post.
The ref informed Amosa that the contact he had made counted as a tag. Amosa complained, but the ref scooted him to the corner and the audience erupted as Tojo entered the ring. He looked at Eli's prone body, still recuperating on the mat, and back to Amosa. Tojo picked up Eli and carried him to Amosa's corner. Tojo extended Eli's hand, daring Amosa to tag it. Amosa slapped Tojo's shoulder instead and the ref instructed Tojo to drop Eli and clear the ring. Tojo let Eli go and the young man crumpled to the mat. Tojo argued with the ref and Amosa used this opportunity to blatantly choke Eli behind the ref's back.
Angered at what was happening, Tojo pushed the ref down. The ref stood and immediately disqualified Tojo.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Crimson Demon has been disqualified from the match! It will continue as a one and one!" Ronnie announced from ringside.
The crowd booed and Tojo complained from the floor.
The ref turned back to the match as Amosa covered Eli again. This time Eli managed to kick out at two. Frustrated, Amosa pulled Eli to his feet and applied a bear hug. It was a rest hold more for Amosa's benefit. The big man needed a breather.
Eli fought back, landing a few blows to Amosa's head and drawing a closed fist warning from the ref. Dazed, Amosa released Eli. Eli grabbed Amosa's arm and whipped him to the corner. The ref followed the action. Eli rushed at Amosa and the Samoan grabbed the referee and used him as a shield. Eli splashed the man in black and white stripes and he fell unconscious to the mat. Eli, distracted by what he had done, received a thunderous DDT from Amosa.
Amosa followed it up by ascending the top turnbuckle to deliver his finisher, the man-splash. He found his mark, landing in the center of Eli's chest. He hiked Eli's leg up in a responsible cover and waited for a three count that never came. Amosa released his foe and realized the ref was still down. As he approached the still official, Tojo jumped back in the ring, scooped up the startled Samoan, and body slammed him. He delivered two more, the last one a running slam, and then he gazed at the carnage in the ring. He lifted his big arm and the crowd went nuts. He started to leave, and then paused, gazing back and forth between Eli and Amosa.
Tojo picked the young man up and draped him across Amosa's chest. He then tugged the referee to the downed men. The ref recovered enough to deliver the three count and motion for the bell.
"Your winner and new Hard Knocks champion, Guerrero Rojo!" Ronnie called from the floor.
The crowd erupted as Eli came to and the ref handed him the belt. Eli had his arm raised by the ref and he regarded the crowd. Amosa rolled out of the ring and walked groggily back to the dressing room. The ref had to be assisted out of the ring by two other officials. Eli was still soaking it all in when he realized that the Crimson Demon was right behind him.
He turned and faced the big man, and Tojo raised Eli's arm and pointed to the victor. The crowd went completely nuts. Tojo paraded Eli to each corner, introducing the new champ.
And then he landed a thunderous blow to Eli's head and the crowd suddenly hushed. He performed a tornado DDT off the top rope, an uncommon finisher for a big man that Tojo had dubbed shock therapy, and then he body slammed Eli twice. He ended his tantrum by throwing Eli into a front row full of plants. He stared unapologetically at the silent, stunned crowd, and he braced himself for the hate, anticipating more than he had ever received and he was ready to gorge on it.
Crimson Demon Crimson Demon Crimson Demon...
They were all chanting his name. Even his new buddies, Cecil and Bubba, were unabashedly cheering him. It was the biggest ovation of the night. Tojo had never really felt dread before. But the cold, sick feeling in his big gut was unmistakable.
7.
The present
Summit Oaks Trailer Park
Fort Worth, Texas
A knock rattled the flimsy door of Tojo's double-wide.
Tojo stared at his clock radio and it was 1:47 on the dot. It seemed an odd time to specify a meeting, but Tojo's parents had explained the eccentricities of Hell to him.
He stood up and anxiously walked to the entrance. This was going to be the first time he had seen a demon in the flesh, besides his parents, and his dread was mixed with anticipation and curiosity.
He pulled the thin door open and a tall, slender man in a white suit that looked like a cross between southern lawyer and plantation owner stood on the steps. Mr. Blickenderfer had very short gray hair. His face was smooth and he had brown eyes, a slender nose and a pointed chin. Tojo imagined a thin mustache and goatee perched on that face. All Blickenderfer needed was a pitchfork and horns to complete the mental image of devil.
"May I come in, Mr. Smith?" Blickenderfer inquired in a soft European voice.
"Please do," Tojo said, reminding himself to smile above the apprehension. "And call me Tojo."
"Very well, Tojo. And you can call me- Mr. Blickenderfer," Mr. Blickenderfer teased, stepping in from the sun and looking over Tojo's meager home.
"Please have a seat, Mr. Blickenderfer," Tojo offered.
Blickenderfer sat on the vinyl topped sofa and he smiled when the fans hit him. "Ah, so nice and cool. Texas is a very hot place. I guess I should be used to hot, -but only the lowest circles are bad. I know you are Eden-born, but have you ever been to Hell, Tojo?"
"No sir," Tojo said, sitting back down in his recliner.
"Certain areas are actually quite breath-taking. Lucifer's throne room was built based on his memories of Heaven. You should see it sometime," Blickenderfer suggested.
"Wow. Yeah, I would like to," Tojo lied. He wanted no part of Hell. His parents had assured him of that.
"Do you have the provisions my assistant asked you for?" Blickenderfer said.
"Oh, yes," Tojo said, remembering. He walked over to the kitchenette and grabbed the TV tray on legs that normally sat over his knees when he ate at night. The cigarettes, raw meat and wine (the most expensive he could find) resided there alongside an ashtray, utensils, corkscrew and a wine glass.
Tojo put the tray over Blickenderfer's skinny lap. The demon stared with hungry, appreciative eyes at the tray. He dug a handkerchief out of his jacket and tucked it into his neckline over his shirt. His human skin receded
suddenly and his demon came out. His brown eyes brightened to orange and his skin hardened into thick green scales. A horrid stench rolled off of him and filled the living room.
Blickenderfer ate the meat in seconds. He washed it down with the wine straight from the bottle. When the bottle was emptied, Blickenderfer belched loudly, settled back against the couch and lit a cigarette. He sighed and looked over at Tojo.
"Suck in your skin, Tojo," he said, the cigarette dancing between his slimy lips. "I wish to talk to you demon to demon, so take off that silly mask."
"Yes sir," Tojo said obediently. He let his red scales loose below his tank top and gym shorts. He seldom ever reverted to demon. Tojo always felt odd and naked in his true form.
"There are so few vices allowed in Hell," Blickenderfer confessed, dragging contentedly on his cigarette. "The black realm is so rigid these days. No Smoking signs everywhere."
Tojo nodded and watched quietly as Blickenderfer crushed out his smoke and lit another right behind it.
"So, let's get down to business," Blickenderfer said, rubbing his hands together. "You know why I am here, yes?"
"I have a pretty heavy suspicion," Tojo replied.
"Let me ask you a question before we discuss that," Blickenderfer said. "You have spent your whole career on the minor circuit. You could have easily gone to the big leagues. Why didn't you?"
Tojo shrugged his red, rough shoulders. "I never wanted that much attention. I prefer the territory I work. I have heard there are a lot of politics with the national promotions. Wrestling in high school auditoriums and VFW halls may sound like small potatoes, but there is a raw honesty to the sport in those venues. And I love Texas and don't think I could handle the road schedule."
"Mind you, no one is judging," Blickenderfer assured Tojo. "Lucifer has a saying- 'every village needs a magistrate and a street cleaner'. There are no jobs that are too small. We all put our coins in the jars. Not every earthbound can be a president or a movie star."
"Yes, sir. I always figured that hate needed to be squeezed from every corner. And the hatred you find here can be pretty potent," Tojo said.
"But now they cheer you," Blickenderfer said. "If you were human, it would just mean turning face- being the good guy. But for a hate demon, such a response is a nuisance at the least. We need to fix this, before it becomes bothersome."
"Is the dark lord aware of this?" Tojo asked cautiously.
"Oh, no," Blickenderfer said with a chuckle. "Lucifer isn't omniscient, Tojo. He relies on Intel and field reports. I am his representative; the buffer. My job is to smooth things over before our master notices. Lucifer is pretty heavy-handed and dramatic. This isn't something we want him to apply a personal touch to. Trust me."
"I have tried every trick in the book," Tojo insisted. "I have squashed plants in the audience. Made alliances then turned on them over and over. I have insulted the audience- insulted their mothers. Short of a human sacrifice in the ring, I have done everything I can think of."
"Oh come now, Tojo. There are much thornier roses to pull from the garden," Blickenderfer chided him. "You could have burned a flag in the ring. Or aligned yourself with the middle east."
"Well, truthfully, I was getting desperate enough to try things like that. But it's cheap heat. And it wouldn't have fit my character."
"What do you care about a character?" Blickenderfer said in amazement. "You wear a mask. Actually, you wear two masks."
"Mr. Blickenderfer, wrestling is about the long haul and the ultimate payoff. It is a slow build," Tojo said. "I have crafted the character of the Crimson Demon very carefully. He exists strictly as the test that an up and coming babyface has to endure to rise above mid-card status. The audience didn't just hate me. They loved to hate me. It was pure and unconditional hate. If I pull the triggers you're suggesting, I'll be putting a bullet in the Crimson Demon's head and undoing years of hate work."
Blickenderfer considered it, and then spoke. "Your character is a monster. A hateful, ugly beast scorned by normal society. Things used to be so black and white with these humans. But now, they see the tragedy in the wickedness. They feel sympathy for the fiend. They rebel against conditioning and prompts. It isn't your fault, really."
"So what happens now?" Tojo asked, with a fearful edge to his deep voice.
"Well, when an earthbound doesn't work out, we generally send them back down. With you, it's more complicated," Blickenderfer said. "You are Eden-born, and your kind never acclimate to the lower depths. You're too soft. We either reassign or retire your kind, and retirement isn't a pleasant thing in our line of work. But don't worry, because I think I have a game plan."
Blickenderfer pulled his handkerchief from his neck, tucked into his jacket and stretched up closer toward Tojo. "There is still one soft spot on humanity that is easy to press for a reaction. You are the flawed antihero. But what if we introduce a character that is the perfect human example. He will be arrogant and he will scorn your audience as fat and weak. You will come to represent their flaws in his eyes and he will stalk you."
"Okay," Tojo said, enthralled by the possibilities of the pitch.
"So, this new angle you are working with Guerrero Rojo. Where is it headed?"
"I'll hound him. Squash him a few times. And then I will put him over clean."
"Amend the angle. A new heel will gun for Guerrero Rojo and you will become his unlikely savior."
"That'll just encourage the crowds," Tojo warned.
"You will be seen as the good guy in this confrontation, yes," Blickenderfer continued. "You will feud with this new heel and eventually put him over. And then he will work a program with Guerrero Rojo and you will fade from the spotlight. And the scales will balance and calm."
"Who will the new heel be?" Tojo asked.
"I have been grooming a hate demon in the pits," Blickenderfer admitted. "He will be packaged as a blonde, Austrian superman. He will be incredibly muscular and strong. He will treat your fans like dirt and he will be called Werner Hass. You will present him Monday to the bookers as your protégé. You are over fifty in human years. Tell them that you are looking to retire, but you want to shape Werner first to build your replacement before you step down. Then, in your very first match with Werner, you let him destroy you. Sell a serious neck injury, and retire for good."
"What happens after that?" Tojo asked.
"You have thirty years of experience, and we value that," Blickenderfer said. "We will set you up in your own training camp and we will fill it with hate demons. You will train them. Do this for us and we might even join you with a bride."
Tojo lit up at the prospect. "Yes sir, Mr. Blickenderfer. I am here to serve, sir."
"Good," Blickenderfer said. His human skin grew back and he stood. "Well, I should go. Are there cats around here? I smell them."
"Yep, there are a ton of feral strays around the trailer park," Tojo said.
"Good, I think I will eat a few before my return portal shows up," Blickenderfer said, stepping to the door. He paused at it and turned back to Tojo.
"After Werner ends your ring career, don't pop another crowd, Tojo. If you do, there will be dire consequences. You get to be the hero for a moment, and then it ends," he warned. "And when the time comes for your inevitable showdown, don't even make it a contest. Let him crush you. Let him kill the Crimson Demon. Is this an issue for you?"
"No sir," Tojo assured. "Like you said, it's only a mask on a mask."
"Good man," Blickenderfer said, taking his leave.
Tojo went into his kitchenette and pulled a six pack from the fridge. He took it with him and settled back into his chair. There was a lot for him to process, and it was a mixture of sad and happy potential.
He heard a cat shriek in terror outside of his trailer.
8.
Tojo stepped out of his trailer at 8AM Monday morning and Werner Hass sat on a lawn chair waiting for him. The big man wore a white tank top and jeans. He stared into the distance as Tojo loc
ked his home.
"You must be Werner," Tojo said.
The big man stood, and he was as tall as Tojo. He had platinum blonde, cropped hair and a square jaw. With an indifferent scowl, Werner regarded Tojo. "You must be Tojo Smith," he said in a deep Austrian accent that had no trace of pleasantry.
Werner was tanned and very muscular. He looked powerful and intimidating. He'd be an easy sell to Weldon Dale.
"How'd you get here?" Tojo asked.
"I walked from the express hotel," Werner said, his expression still hard.
"How is the set-up?" Tojo asked.
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