Chương 81: The Pure Line: Cannon

"AND CANNON VALKYR SEALS ANOTHER VICTORY OVER HIS NEMESIS, BIG BODY BRAHAM, WITH HIS PATENTED CANNON BUSTER ELBOW! THAT MATCH RIGHT THERE IS WHY WE'LL NEVER SEE ANOTHER GENERATIONAL TALENT LIKE CANNON!" The announcers were screaming at the top of their lungs like they were all paid to do. The crowd went wild for the 6-foot package of tan muscle basking in their adoration in the middle of a wrestling ring. He flexed as they shouted his name…

"Cannon! Cannon! Cannon!" The people's adoration followed him all the way to the back. There was a line of people waiting for hugs, pictures, and autographs, and Cannon Valkyr was never one to disappoint his fans. Especially the kids. So he'd take pictures with those kids who had heads smaller than his bicep, sign their t-shirts, and drop one of his famous lines about following your dreams. They always ate it right up…

But eventually the lights would dim down, the crowd would leave, and it would be just Cannon and a much-needed ice bath in the locker room. The touch of the freezingwer burned him like water on the devil.

"Ahhh. No pain, no gain," he'd tell himself, sliding down into the metal bin filled with his bath. Before he could settle in, Big Body Braham shoved his way through the door. A pale, burly man with a mustache and mullet straight out of the 80s. Cannon groaned.

"You ain't have enough of the beating I gave you earlier? Now you want to fight a man while his rock Johnson's out, eh?" Big Body spat.

"I've had enough of your shit, Valkyr. All these years, you've been full of yourself, talking that trash, thinking you're a big man. But you're nothing but a fraud, overcompensating with big muscles and a shitty tan job." Cannon erupted out of his bath, fist balled at his sides as he stood chin to chin with his arch enemy. And Braham gave the meanest mug he could back. A few seconds passed, and the man couldn't help but peek downwards. He whispered.

"We're supposed to save the small packages for the ring, Cannon." They both broke out into hysterics, Cannon relaxing back in his bath as Braham got his bag from the other side of the room.

"It was a good match tonight. As always, you had the crowd eating out the palm of your hand." Cannon laughed.

"Give yourself some credit, too. A hero is nothing without his greatest villain."

"Oh, you're gonna make me vomit, ya babyface fuckhead."

"Hehe. Hey Braham. You're up at the next show, too, right? Why don't you hop on the bus with the rest of the boys? Like old times."

"You mean that mobile castle with your face plastered all over it? It'll be a cold day in hell before you catch me in that thing. Besides, I'm homebound. This was my only show this week." Cannon scoffed.

"Only show? You're not getting lazy on me, are you, old timer?"

"That's what happens when you get a family. You wanna spend time with em and shit. Ain't you almost 40 now? It's about time you start settling down with your own folks."

"I've always had a family. And it's the millions," he paused like he was waiting for the camera to slow zoom.

"And millions around the world who rely on me to brighten their day every Monday night."

"Goddamn, no wonder management loves you so much." Braham's tone wasn't complimentary.

"Take it from me. Burnout ain't no thief in the night. It's a slow build of a disease with many symptoms. That perfect role model gimmick is gonna wear off, and I ain't just talking about with the crowd."

"Burnout? I don't know the meaning of the word," Cannon smiled and Braham smiled back before saluting him to leave. Cannon slid his chin down into the ice water, finally getting a moment to relax.

"Well, that guy sure is a stick in the mud." The apparition of a voice jump-scared Cannon right out of the bath and into his towel. He was ready to throw hands until he realized it was just another one of the boys. He was one of the younger guys, still fresh in training with slick blonde hair, looking like Cannon's slim doppelganger.

"Damn, Jordi! Don't sneak up on me like that!" Cannon grabbed his towel to make sure he was covered this time.

"I thought you were in the gym, like I told you."

"It's fine. I already did like 3 workouts today. The rest of the guys are ready to go anyway."

"Already?" Cannon got dressed in his sweatsuit and long coat before heading towards his bus. That mobile castle with his face plastered on it. The bus driver was cocked and ready, waiting for him. But everything behind him looked like a morgue. All the boys had their heads drooping over, practically drooling on the floor with their eyes in the back of their heads.

"What's up with everybody?" Cannon asked.

"We may have gone out drinking," Jordi said behind him.

"But no one can handle their liquor but me, so they're all hungover."

"It ain't even 8 o'clock."

"Well, it's 10 o'clock where we're goin and 7 where we came from. Times all relative. Ain't that what Einstein said or somethin?" Cannon clapped his hands, sparking his zombies awake.

"Come on, boys! This is pitiful, what I'm looking at. Don't you know people look up to guys like us? We've gotta keep ourselves and our bodies to a certain standard and—""Ah. Save it for the kids. I got a headache, man." Somebody shouted from the back of the bus.

"Yeah, can we save the lecture for the morning, please?" someone else said. Cannon paused, hearing them and feeling the energy being sucked right out of his heart.

"Alright… EVERYONE OFF THE BUS!" That got them to stir.

"What? What are you talking about? You can't be serious."

"Deadly. I'm not gonna be hauling around a bunch of snot-nosed punks that don't understand the meaning of the word responsibility and discipline." Everyone on was younger than him by at least ten years, a bunch of unestablished names and hopefuls looking to make their mark on the wrestling world. And Cannon had taken them all under his wing. But at the end of the day, this was his bus, and they'd ride only if he allowed it.

After a wave of groans and people packing up their things, they unconsciously formed up in a line. All ten of them. Cannon then became their drill sergeant.

"Now the only way I'm letting any of you back on that bus is if you drop and give me a hundred push-ups, a hundred sit-ups, and a hundred burpees." Even more groans. But they all got down. It was either that or get stranded in a city none of them even knew the name of. They were even more zombified once the bus actually got going, which felt like the perfect time for the lecture they wanted to wait until the morning.

Cannon paced up the center aisle of the moving bus, as the boys rested ice packs on their sore arms.

"Now I know you think I'm hard on you boys. That I'm all ego, and I'm taking my shit out on all you young guns. But this ain't hazing. This ain't a rib. I take my role very seriously. See… people like us. We didn't have good role models growing up. The best role models we had were on the side of a cereal box. So we grew up and did some things we may not be proud of. No one there to tell us there was a better way. That you don't have to cut corners in order to make it out here. You just gotta have grit.

You just gotta face it with everything you got. Keep going. Never quit. Nobody told me that but a man on TV. An oily man in leather underwear, specifically. But that man's words got me and my momma out of government housing… Now that man is retired, and we've taken his place. So we have a responsibility to preach what he preached. But we can't preach what we don't practice. Not for the millions. Not for the one. That one kid out there, who will really see you for what you are. And their life will change forever.

That one kid, that might become the next Cannon Valkyr." Their heads started to lift, and suddenly Jordi started shouting, "You all heard him. No pain! No gain! We came here to be champions! Not to mope after one measly workout! You only mope when you think what you're doing is for nothing! You think looking like this is for nothing!" The guy's shirt exploded off his chest when he suddenly started posing for the bus.

"You all can mope all you want, but I'm gonna be a main eventer one day, just like Cannon!"

"Like that'll ever happen, looking as scrawny as that!" Another guy shouted.

"You ain't main eventing anything until you look as brawny as this!" Suddenly, ripped cloth was flying everywhere as the entire bus entered a testosterone-filled pose off. Cannon, of course, joined in on the action. What kind of role model would he be if he didn't show off the body they all aspired to? This lasted most of the night as the bus rolled on with no stops until noon the next day. He'd fallen asleep in the back, with his headphones in. He was usually a heavy sleeper, but a strange feeling woke him up.

Something like a shaking under his feet. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"What's going on?" He rubbed his eyes awake before going to wake Jordi next to him. But the kid was wide awake, staring out the window. Cannon went to look when suddenly the bus took a sharp turn, too sharp. The driver screamed as the bus flipped over on its side, tossing everyone inside around like seat-belted ragdolls. The bus slid on its side, sparking against the asphalt highway until it flipped again and again. Rolling until bashing against what felt like a wall.

Everyone was groggy, dizzy, and checking for head wounds. Thankfully, they landed upright. Cannon was bleeding from his head, but he went to check on everyone in his bus.

"Are we all good? Is everyone all right?" He went to them one by one, checking for casualties. None of the wrestlers were killed. They would all need trips to the hospital, but none of them were dead. The same couldn't be said for the bus driver. He was limped over, blood and pieces of windshield scattering across his face. Cannon almost threw up when he saw it. But he still tried to resuscitate him. Mouth to mouth. Cpr. Something. Anything he could pull out of his hat to try to save this man… none of it worked.

One of the guys had to pull him off the body and convince him that it was a lost cause. They needed to worry about getting off the bus for now. The bus entrance was crammed up against a huge dislocation of earth. Like the highway had split in half with one side elevating into a cliff wall. One of the guys was in the back, kicking the emergency exit until it opened. Everyone was able to file out onto the street. The first thing Cannon told them to do was call 911 and get the bus driver help, but no one listened.

They were all staring into the catastrophe that lay before them. They weren't the only ones who crashed. The entire highway was a catastrophic mess, with cars and people flung everywhere. Trees were shattered and littered the streets like spilled children's toys. And the ones responsible, the indescribable beasts, were running through the streets. No one knew what to do but stare and wonder what strange dream this was. That was until the creatures came after them.

"What in the hell are those?" Jordi fell back on his hind when he saw them.

"I don't know. They're like a bunch of roided-out Looney Tunes," was Cannon's first thought. It was a gang of 7 different beasts, each one with a jacked human torso with the head of a different animal: deer, dog, bird, rabbit. It was so absurd-looking, he almost would've laughed if people hadn't just died like if a petting zoo were competing to be Mr. Olympia. As they walked, they stood eye level with the wrestlers, almost like they were challenging them. Without thinking, Cannon stepped up to the plate.

The mangy, rabbit man at the front stared at him with sweat and bulging veins flowing down its hulking arms.

"You look like you want me to kick your candied ass up and down this highway."

"Uhm. Cannon, I don't think cutting a promo on the monsters is gonna work out too well." Someone said behind him.

"Cutting a promo? This is just how I talk…" Suddenly, the rabbit seized both of his shoulders with a strength he'd never felt. Not even from the biggest opponents in the ring. It forced its will through its squeeze, pushing Cannon to his knees. He could feel his bones starting to pop. The rest of the beasts went after the others, quickly overwhelming them with their monstrous strength. Cannon heard them struggle. He felt his own body start to crumble into pieces.

But he had always preached that something like strength could be overcome and wasn't one not to practice what he preached…

"Come on, boys. We trained for this... All those days, all those years, spent in the gym, working our asses off, and YOU EXPECT ME TO GET OUTWRESTLED BY A GODDAMN MUPPET! I DON'T THINK SO!" He found his strength, planting his back foot and forcing his entire body upwards. His whole body was trembling from any strength he had; he would move this beast. His trembling transferred to the beast holding him, whose grip eventually started to falter. Then Cannon let out his most vicious war cry.

"AHHHHH!" Jordi ran to his aid, sticking his fist right in the monster's side, filled with the same crazed adrenaline overtaking Cannon. That caused the beast to buckle, and in a moment its head dropped, still with its meaty hands on Cannon's shoulders. Despite the thing looking unconscious, its grip was still extraordinary. That was until Cannon felt something crawling up his arm onto the back of his neck.

Then he felt a surge of adrenaline, the likes of which he had never felt before, and suddenly, the monstrous grip felt like paperweights. He shoved the beast, knocking it to the ground. After hearing his scream and seeing that he had conquered the beast, the others followed suit with screams of their own.

"YEAHHHH!"

"COME GET SOOMMMME!"

"I'M CRACKED OUT JESUS!" Cannon ran to the others, and the first beast he saw, he beat on his bicep and shouted, "CANNON BUSTERRRRR!" And rocked it with an epic clothesline. Jordi usually followed, punching the creatures when they were down. Seeing him in action eventually spurred the others to start nailing the beasts with their own special moves. German suplexes, piledrivers, someone even knocked out a beast with a single Superman punch. By the end of it, all the men were screaming like crazed Spartans.

Everyone except for Jordi, who, after the fighting, was the only one covered in blood. But soon, they calmed down once the threat had been eliminated.

"I've never been prouder of you boys. You took the monsters with nothing but grit and a man's bare hands."

"Hoorah!" they all went.

"And my pocket knife," added Jordi. He was flipping a switchblade in his hand like it was some ninja tool. Cannon was bewildered, but it explained the blood on the kid's hands when everyone else was redless. Jordi laughed to himself before walking off. Cannon excused himself from the other guys to follow him.

"Cracked out, Jesus? Come on, Travis," He heard behind him.

"I got carried away, sorry." Cannon found him, searching the corpses of the monsters, specifically around their necks.

"I saw something pop out of these things when they died; maybe they're useful somehow." He said when he saw Cannon approaching. Cannon lowered his voice.

"You had a knife on you this whole time?"

"You didn't really think you just overpowered that thing, did you? I mean, you're strong, but that thing was a monster. It felt a whole lot easier to stab it." Cannon dropped his head.

"Jordi, we talked about this. You've left that life behind. You don't need to carry weapons with you anymore." Jordi shrugged.

"It's just for protection."

"But what about when you were out drinking? Did you have that on you then? Would you have stabbed someone if you got into a fight? How's that supposed to look to all the people looking out for you?"

"Like I just saved your life. Look, I know you got me out of a bad spot. You're the whole reason I started wrestling cuz you said I could be something different. But some parts of people are just ingrained in them. You're not gonna stop me from being a little edgy, just like I won't stop you from being a guy that looks out for people. But hey. If this were me from a year ago, I probably wouldn't have lifted a finger to save anyone but myself. And that's cuz of you. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

The guy smiled in that cocky, cheesy way that he did when he knew Cannon was being unreasonable. It always made Cannon stop and think about what he was even scolding this boy for. He wondered what he had ever scolded him for as he stared at his dead body at the top of a dark hotel. Jordi jumped in front of a lightning bolt for him, saving his life for a second time. It was the kind of bravery that Cannon couldn't have taught him. That kind of self-sacrifice was something that was always ingrained in him.

"That's cuz of you." They were following his lead. Cannon was supposed to be the one guiding them, the one showing them how to be men. And all of them, including Jordi, were dead. Slayed by the boy tyrant Nrv, whom Cannon had killed with his own hand. It was a spur of anger, a loss of self-control.

"It was the only way," he wanted to tell himself. But it didn't feel like it. It felt like the worst. The worst outcome from the decision everyone made to get justice for those church people. But his arm was still bleeding, and his eye was sealed shut by some errant spark of lightning. His pain was numbing. Before the grief set in, he was bombarded by survival instinct. He searched the room, but all he could come up with was ripping up sheets with his one hand to tie up the stump of his arm.

That bought him a few extra moments, but how long, he couldn't say. He searched the room, eventually coming upon the kids' drawer of loot. He searched, knowing there was one in there that'd be able to heal him. But he couldn't tell any of the symbols apart. One of his eyes didn't seem to be working right. He couldn't feel it, and he couldn't see out of it at all. Must've gotten caught by a stray spark. After shuffling through the massive pile, he got exhausted, dropping to his knee.

That's when he remembered the hole he'd knocked Nrv through. He looked through, seeing that he'd knocked him so far that he wasn't even in the same building. But he could see that the body was unmoving, the mask was on the floor, and the teenage boy lay dead. He vomited.

"No, Cannon. This isn't who you are. There had to be another way." But the sight of all his friends in even worse conditions…. He heard footsteps rushing the hall outside. The other Nrv members were coming for him. He had to leave. He gathered what he could of Nrv's stash of loot, stuffing as many into his jacket pocket as he could. But the steps were at the door. He looked to his friends.

"I'm sorry." Then he channeled the strength of the loot's power into his legs and leaped out of the hole in the building. He spent a long time walking after that. Nowhere clear to go. Just walking until he was out of the city and even further than that. He felt phantom pains where his arm used to be, and the sheets wrapped around it were bloodied black. But he just kept walking; any attempt at finding some healing within the coins in his pocket felt worthless. He didn't feel the strength to keep going.

So when his remaining eye started to blur, he sat down, leaned against a tree next to an old road, and waited.

"All that training. All those years of trying to be perfect…. Just to be a hero to no one. Maybe you're right, Braham. I'm burnt out." He closed his eyes for a while to slowly enter the cold dark. A van pulled up next to his body, and a man got out. Then a woman after him. The man was dark-skinned and mean-looking. The man knelt next to him, staring a while before slapping him in the face. When there was no response, he said, "Yeah, this one's dead. I'm gonna search him."

"We're only a few weeks in, and you're already looting corpses?" The woman complained.

"Well, since we haven't come across an unlooted store in a while, this is our best option to keep stocked and find what we need."

"Fine. Just make it quick."

"Don't be so squeamish, Ann." The man jingled around Cannon's pockets.

"This guy's actually a jackpot of loot."

"Really? Anything in there, you think I could use?"

"Hmm." He sorted through the loot in his hand.

"How about this one? It looks like a bow on a sun. A long-range weapon will probably suit you better than anything else." He handed her the piece, but she was hesitant.

"You don't want it?" the man said.

"No. I'll take it. It's just… I feel bad taking from this man. He doesn't look like he's been dead for very long."

"It's just the way things are now. If you felt bad for every corpse on the side of the road, you'd be sad every damn day."

'I am sad every damn day."

"What are you doing?" She was kneeling, fingers locked together.

"I'm praying for him." The man scoffed.

"To which God?"

"Whichever has his soul now."