A/C Unit (Cid Turner & Asher Hayes) vs. Selena Frost & Syren

[Cid]

Roy Holman was sick of this shit.

All it took was one non-fiction book to bring people in droves to this once quiet area of Alaska. A yarn of someone finding fulfilment living in solitude, leaving behind “society” in order to live amongst Mother Nature’s bosom. It was as it intended to be: an inspiring tale that showed concepts like money, stature, and anything else that made up “material living” weren’t all there was to life.

It was a fine enough message. Roy had even enjoyed the book himself. Managed to watch the film too, even if making a movie of the book may have gone against the message of the story. No big deal. But as it often goes, a concept spreads to the masses and eventually it loses all meaning. 

Suddenly, everyone and their mother - sometimes literally - decided to take a “spiritual journey” of their own in hopes of finding themselves, but really, it often just served as a week away from home. A vacation. It was through these tourists that Roy learned what the hell “glamping” was and he wasn’t impressed. His remote Alaskan area was still remote at least, but the amount of times he had to save some asshole from a bear attack or some bimbo from drowning in the river…

It was enough to make a man jaded.

So when he heard a man’s horrified screams follow the deep echo of a gunshot in the distance, he couldn’t help but to roll his eyes.

“Another fuckin’ one,” Roy groaned.

As casually as the river flowed, he wound in his empty line and calmly started to gather his belongings. He’d done it enough times that it couldn’t have taken even a minute to set his chair, fishing gear, and the cooler with the day’s catches just off the shore of the river, all neatly stacked together.

His rifle, however, stayed on his person. The moron that discharged probably scared off most of the wildlife with his shot, but Roy had done this enough times to realize that if a shot was preceded by screams of terror, said moron probably wasn’t dealing with just a deer or a moose. While he felt like it was his duty to “play hero,” for lack of a better word, he wasn’t about to just sacrifice himself for some idiot tourist, so he carried his rifle with him as he walked along the shore, following the source of the shot in an attempt to find the struggling glamper.

Thankfully, Mr. Tourist made it easy.

There he was, stood atop a tall hill, looking like even more of a lumberjack than Roy did. A great, big, bushy beard with a massive mop on top. To his credit, the bearded man looked like he’d been living off the land for quite awhile now. Roy was mildly impressed. There was some consideration that this was actually a real camper that just happened to run into some trouble.

Any sort of respect he held for the shaggy man disappeared as soon as the idiot discharged his rifle once again, the recoil sending both him and his gun flying down the hill. Roy had to stifle his laughter at this person’s expense. With all that hair, he looked like a human tumbleweed tumbling down that hill. It looked funny, is all.

Not taking his eyes off of the human car accident, Roy had to cringe at every bump the lumberjack took on the way down. The kid rolls good, at least, he thought as the man came to a skidding stop into the gravel on the shore. 

At the top of the hill, Roy spotted the bear that was the most likely candidate to have been the one terrorizing this man. The furry monster was having trouble getting to the top, so it eventually gave up and scurried off, likely to try and find another way down. With the pained groans of his prey echoing throughout the area, it was doubtful that the beast would just give up, but this at least bought them some time, which Roy was grateful for. As cliché as it sounded, he actually was getting too old for this shit.

Walking swiftly as he could at his age, Roy went and picked up the tourist’s rifle. It was much newer than his - probably more powerful too, which would explain why it just sent this novice flying down a hill.

The man’s delirious yelps urged Roy on. He got closer to the man and kneeled down, setting the firearms to the side and carelessly flipping the victim on his back to get a better look at him.

“What happened?” the bearded fellow slurred in complete confusion. He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering. He looked like a big, hairy baby, experiencing the world for the first time. What a way to arrive.

“Bear,” Roy replied calmly, checking for injuries. “Fell down the hill like an idiot too. You, not the bear. What’s your name, kid?”

“Oh, God,” the man groaned while grasping at his throat. “Oh, God, it clawed my throat. I can’t breathe…”

Roy hummed curiously, taking the man’s hands off his throat only to see that it looked fine, besides the mild scrapes and dirt to be expected from being launched down a hill. “You’re not cut,” he said. “Name?”

“It clawed my fucking—”

“Name!”

“Cid,” the man cried out weakly. “Cid Turner. I’m famous. Get help.”

“Cid, the only wound you got is on your arm.” Roy watched as Cid tried his best to look at his own arm, struggling to even lift his head for a peek.

“Oh, God, my arm! Don’t take my arm,” Cid sobbed, resting his head back up against the shore. “My thr—…my throat is burning. I’m on fire.”

“I told you, you’re not cut there.”

“Tell Elizabeth I love her,” Cid blubbered, ignoring Roy. He was loopy. Maybe a concussion. He seemed to be fading, but Roy figured that was just the panic working in conjunction with the concussion. The kid was overwhelmed. Might’ve broken something on the way down the hill too. “And my daughter. Syren too. God, tell it to Holly, and Asher. Tell Clyde I’m sorry. Tell Selena to kiss my dead ass. I should’ve never let her have that damn belt.”

Roy checked the actual bear wound that existed. Not too bad, he figured. Worst thing was probably the shock of it all. The throat, though? He took a second to think. “Right,” he sighed. “How long you been out here?”

“Four,” Cid replied delicately. Roy wasn’t hard of hearing quite yet, but he had to lean closer to pick up the stranger’s frenzied muttering.

“Four,” Roy echoed. “Four days? Months? Years?”

“Four o’clock.”

“You’ve only been out here a couple o’ hours? Christ, that was quick,” Roy laughed. “Eat any berries, Cid?”

“Little white ones,” Cid wept softly with his eyes closed. “Little white ones…so pretty…”

“All right,” Roy replied curtly. “You poisoned yourself.”

“Please help me…”

“As long as you didn’t eat too many, you should be fine. Only kids or dumb adults eat too many. You’re not dumb, are ya?”

“Oh, God, help me…”

“I guess the situation you’ve found yourself in answers that question,” Roy grunted, grabbing a palm full of water and trying his best to transfer it through Cid’s trembling lips. “Don’t think we’ve ever had a baneberry death here, so you’d be the first.” He paused. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Please, help…”

“You’re not really all there right now, are you?” asked Roy. Instead of a yes or a no, the only answer he got was this stranger fading into unconsciousness. “God damn it, kid, you’re really gonna make me carry you?” Predictably, he didn’t receive a response. A heavy sigh drew from his lungs. “You are.”

---

Let me tell you about the worst date I've ever had.

They say to never meet your heroes, but they never warn you against dating your dream girl.

It started out innocently enough. Shy eyes, shaking hands, quivering lips—okay, that was just me, but we did join hands - fingers intertwined, by the way - and I think I felt a little nervousness in her hand! Mine—well, they were trembling and clammy. Hers were soft and smelled like coconuts. This is par for the course, I guess. Seeing us together, you’d think that she was just hanging out with her estranged cousin that came from the poor side of the family, or maybe a really big and hairy Make-A-Wish kid, but really, our opposites joined together to create a beautiful harmony, invisible to the naked eye. She was the yin to my yang.

I mean, The Jewell? Not just The Jewell, but VIP at The Jewell?! The girl was classy. Romantic.

God, the lighting was borderline erotic. Very intimate. The most classy joint I’d ever eaten at that provided soft, romantic lighting like that was when I went to a Burger King by myself one time and one half of two bulbs above me shorted out, but that was more of a happy accident type of thing, and you could only feel so romantic as you sit by yourself in a booth next to someone wolfing down two meals to themselves in a remote town somewhere in Idaho.

This, though? This was legit. I said this was the worst date I’ve ever had, but damn it, by this point, I was…happy. How many times have you heard me say that over the last year? Happy.

Then the waiter came over.

Look, I’m a recently converted vegan, so I’m well aware of all the stereotypes, because I once believed in ‘em. We’re fussy, we’re bitchy, and we have weak bones. Fair enough. But if I’m eating at The Jewell, I expect to be catered to. We were VIPs, for God’s sake!

No almond milk. That’s fine, I guess. Whatever. Soy milk? Nope. Apparently there’s some sort of thing going on with their current supplier. I don’t know. “Just find me some sort of vegan milk,” I tell ‘em. They’re just shaking their head as they walk off. They come back five minutes later with a mysterious white liquid. I don’t even know what I drank that night, but it at least didn’t seem to come from an animal. It kind of just looked like dirty dish water. It tasted similar.

Anyway…so, I order the Classic Caesar. They say don’t mess with the classics, but with full intention of causing a culinary paradigm shift, I ask for them to take out the shaved parmesan, plus the dressing. Judging by the face of the waiter, you would’ve thought I just shot their mother in the face. Apparently, I’ve not only insulted this waiter, but I’ve insulted the chef. I tell them that they’re insulting me by only having about ten items on the entire menu. I get my salad and I have to eat around the cheese.

But, hey, that’s all okay, right? I’m with a legitimate ten! More than that, she’s interested. I tell her about my family, my career, and even some of the more flavourful people I’ve been hanging out with lately. She’s so interested that she’s even on her phone the whole time, presumably looking up my Wikipedia page and all my highlights on YouTube so she can relive the memories alongside me while I verbally recall all of these fantastical tales. She barely even took her eyes off her phone! It was pleasant. She was just completely entranced in everything me.

Little did I know, this sweet, innocent woman was being manipulated by the very same woman who - on a weekly basis - manipulates all of the poor children that watch SCW, creating a small, feisty, cultish army who point and laugh at you when you lose to Supreme Leader Frost, all in the name of believing or something.

Listen, Selena, you may have twisted the narrative enough to have these poor children chanting “we believe” over and over like some sort of satanic call to summon the devil that is very much you, but did you really have to exploit someone as pure and whole as Syren?

I saw the look in her eyes while she held my hand - again, fingers intertwined - as we made our way to The Jewell. She was happy. After years of polyamorous experimenting with Miss Dark and Brooding and that pretty little English fella, she realized that this was the true love she’d been waiting for her whole life. The kind of love you dream of as a young girl.

That’s how you got her, isn’t it? You saw that child-like wonder in her eyes and - as you do - identified another uncorrupted mind you could violate.

Well, good for you. Are you happy now? I got not-milk thrown at me and a plant spilled all over me, and then to put two Asher-shaped swollen cherries on top of this sinister sundae, I got to see your wife kick my best friend in his bigass balls, right in front of me. At The Jewell! The Jewell, of all places! Oh, and that five-star rating you’re giving them? Get ready for me to bring that average down to a three when I give those uppity bastards a one-star review for letting you bullies trash the place, all in an attempt to make me look stupid!

The whole thing was just a farce. A farce to hurt Asher in his match against Xander Valentine, and a farce to hurt me in my heart. It was like She’s All That, except at the end, I was still fugly and I didn’t get the girl. How noble of you, Selena. These are the honest intentions of The Face of SCW? If that’s the face that represents SCW then I hope to be the one responsible for giving us a much needed facelift.

And you say that you’ll just about kill anyone who touches your wife, but you allow her to do that to Asher?! He won’t walk right for a month! You’re lucky I’m vegan, Selena. If I wasn’t, Asher would have slapped Deanna across the head with a pan seared salmon, and honestly, she would’ve had it coming. As it stands, though…it’s kinda hard to use a Classic Caesar as a weapon.

This upcoming Breakdown, however, A/C Unit won’t be coming in unprepared with nothing more than a salad fork to defend ourselves…and while you wear a server’s uniform on your back and a plate on your arm much better than you wear that title belt around your waist, I know that you’ll be ready too, in full gear and in the mindset of the champion of the people you’ve been misleading.

And while I’d love to be able to say that I get to finally set things right against you on Thursday, I’ll have to wait a bit longer for that. At the very least, this oughta be a great teaser of what’s to come at Apocalypse. The only problem I’m having is that you’ve let the fear of losing the World Championship take control of you. It’s Goddamn blatant. You know what’s coming, so you’ve recruited someone that shares a connection with me, all in hopes of messing with my mind.

Well, guess what? I may have had a fragile mind when I came back a year ago, but I’ve changed. Inside of me is the knowledge and power of countless generations. Every mistake learned from. Every strength worked on. I’ve entered a positive state. No longer will two-faced phonies like you be able to take advantage of me!

So, when it comes to Syren, I’m completely fine that it’s worked out this way. For your sake, you get to show everyone that you can play nice and make up with your enemies, putting on that bogus wholesome mask of yours so more people flock to your lameass cause—and, hey, listen, I’m actually glad that I could provide something of use to you considering the fact that I plan on taking away everything from you. It’s the least I could do, really. Enjoy it while you still can, sister.

But for my sake, I’ll never complain about sharing the ring with Syren. If anything, this time might even be more special than the previous two. While before I was trying to prove that I was even worthy enough to grace the ring with someone as quintessential as Syren, I view us as equals now. Syren and I, we’ll do what we do best - we’ll dance the night away, putting on a show that’ll leave everyone talking long after the credits roll. It’s become a thing. Holly even told me that #Syd - that’s S-Y-D - was trending worldwide, and while I’m realizing now that this portmanteau doesn’t quite work when verbalizing it, I’m sure everyone on the Internet gets the gist! “All of the stans are living for it,” Holly told me. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds good.

And I can’t help but look at this match as a sort of callback. Before I folded Syren up and pinned her in the middle of the ring at Rise to Greatness, I had to face her and Ravyn with Asher by my side at the previous year’s event. The story was simple: could this new tag team gel together and overcome the seasoned veteran team that had already left the growing pains behind long ago, leaving a trail of broken bodies and countless trophies behind them? It looks like the shoe’s on the other foot now.

But let me tell you something…you two are not Dark Fantasy, and you’re certainly not A/C Unit. A/C Unit are the one and only Tag League Champions, a tournament in which you both failed. We not only won the Tag Team Championship from that, but we were the first men to be Co-World Champions after we gave the boot to flavour of the month Suited and Booted. 

Looking at the facts, there’s no other tag team like us. Hell, going off of the company’s history, it could be another twenty years until we see another team capable of touching the heights that we’ve reached, and unfortunately for you two, time just isn’t on your side here. You don’t have twenty years to prepare. You’ve got us in a matter of days.

I’ll tell you now, having been on the other side of this story, losing hurts. I understand what you’re both going through right now. You’re thinking, “I can do it, I can beat them, it doesn’t matter how much they’ve accomplished together, I can do it,” and that’s great, but I’m speaking from experience here, that false hope only makes things worse. Sometimes you just run into a wall of untouchable talent.

But, hey, look at where it got me and Asher. It’s not all bad. Of course, like I said…you’re not us. While we’ve shown time and time again that we share an unbreakable bond through our brotherhood, we’ve seen how Selena treats her former partners, discarding them in order to prop herself up into the spotlight. Some people just aren’t built to have strong relationships, but look, I’m sure you guys could have a nice little run together before Selena shifts her eyes to the next prize.

That’s the future though. Is there a future between you two? Is there a future between Syren and I? A magic 8-ball might say…outlook not so good. I don’t really know the answer to these questions though. The only two things I know are based on my recent history in this company. 

One: the new team can never beat the legendary team. Consider it a learning experience, ladies. Use the knowledge we grant you in defeat to propel you, attaining a small victory in your crushing loss. It’s what I did.

And two: when Cid Turner falls down and looks like he’ll never find his way back up, he proves the notion wrong.

Last year, I lost to Dark Fantasy and went on to be half of an iconic tag team. Then, when I was at my lowest and everyone wondered if I was ever going to get that black dog off my back, I defeated Chad Evans and Suited and Booted on the same night to become World Champion.

How do you think I’ll bounce back from losing to Selena, or even Ravyn? What d’ya reckon I’ll do now that Selena and Syren humiliated me? What does history tell us?

Last week, the world witnessed the worst date I’ve ever had, but on Breakdown, they get an intimate look at some tag team action when A/C Unit has a bit of an in-ring tryst with enemies-turned-maybe-frenemies Syren and Selena Frost. So, how’s about this week we show ‘em the best double date I’ve ever had?