Man came down from Chicago
He gonna set that levee right
He said, "It needs to be at least three feet higher
"It won't make it through the night"

“You need to SIT. DOWN.”

But the old man down in the Quarter
He said "Don't you listen to that boy
"The water'll be down by the morning
"And he'll be back to Illinois"

The matriarchal tone familiar to everyone who’s ever been through the halls of the WrestlePlex cuts in above the chaos. A half dozen men in black shirts try to wrangle a man throwing his body around wildly, like a cornered beast trying to escape its destiny.  Iris Davine continues to keep her distance as the scuffle continues but within a few seconds becomes controlled. For now. 

“You know DAMN well that you’re injured and I know that you’re injured and we aren’t getting anywhere with you acting like this.” She continues to scold, “What in the hell has gotten into you?”

A pair of piercing blue eyes stare back at her from under matted dirty blond hair. Angry. Scared. Flecks of red cover his face as he snarls, then winces, then his eyes narrow again.

“I’m fine, now leave me be.” The unmistakable cajun accent of Matt LaCroix responds, gritting through his teeth, “I’ve been through worse and I’ma go through worse again.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then find someone who can.”

“I have an oath to uphold and you have a long life ahead of you Matthew.” She lectures, “Why do you insist on cutting it short?”

No response. Just another wince and a slight motion towards his right arm that he fights back.

“Do you want to die in that ring?”

An awkward silence fills the room as the Reaper on the Pontchartrain grits his teeth together.

“Don’t you have a family to think about? A mother? A sister? Can’t you do it for them?”

“I do and I also got a legacy. This is MY LIFE!” Matt eventually responds, “And dontcha dare bring up my papa or I swear to Christ I’ll ri-”

“And what would he think if he saw you right now? Acting like this? I’m trying to help you!”

“FUCK. YOU.” Matt LaCroix tries to pull himself loose from DEFsec but he just doesn’t have the strength left after Henry Keyes destroyed him in the middle of the ring. Suddenly everything goes blurry. The adrenaline wears off. The Ace of Spades collapses to the sterile, white tile floor.

I was born in the rain
On the Pontchartrain
Underneath the Louisiana moon
I don't mind the strain of a hurricane
They come around every June

One Week Later.

Looking down at the sterile, white tile floor of St. Tammany Parish Hospital a memory desperately tried to push its way to the forefront of Matt LaCroix’s mind but was just coming up empty. Slightly dizzy, he desperately tried to recollect his thoughts behind darting light blue eyes. They strained to remain focused as a door opened just out of his view and a pair of loud footsteps escorted a trail of lighter footsteps in his peripheral vision. Slowly, he moved his head to the side to see what was happening across the room, hoping this time the world wouldn’t spin.

“Mr. LaCroix, I’ve just finished speaking to your mother and sister outside, as you know we’re still not allowing multiple visitors into the rooms quite yet.” The middle aged woman in scrubs pauses seeing if she’d get an answer. She doesn’t. “After talking about our options we think it’s best to take you off the road for now where you can be home and someone can watch over you.”

“Doc, I’mma be fine.” Matt countered, “Just lemme do a lil rehab ta get this arm back togetha, just like last time, and by den dis dizziness and cloudiness will be gone. I can do all that from da road. I got plenty a people to look after me. I’ll take a couple a week off television maybe…”

The look of perplexity on the doctor’s face made him hesitate for just a moment.

“Maybe a couple a months, cher?” He corrected himself, “Dis is what I do. Dis is my life.”

“Matt, you need surgery.” A third voice interrupts from behind him and a small Asian woman with pink hair and the distinct sound of concern chirps up, “You can’t keep going on like this.”

“I made it back fine last time.”

“And Henry Keyes damn near killed you.” Ayake Sonoda, BRAZEN Wrestling correspondent and long-time friend of Matt LaCroix since his days in Japan retaliates, “Now your arm is more severely injured than it was the first time. The conversation now is about mitigating the amount of PERMANENT DAMAGE you’ll receive so that you can live a normal life, not to mention the concussion.”

“What am I spose ta do, Aya?” Matt argues, “Sit on my couch? Collect disability? Just be anudder po boy who strains society and lives off da man? I already tried that, cher, and it ain’t my bag.”

“You need to think about your future.”

“My future? Of what?!” Matt stands up, slightly stumbling as the entire room motions for him to sit back down but he isn’t having it, “I fought through the death of my papa. I fought through poverty. I fought through the apathy of this world. I fought through addiction. I fought to get my life back and THIS. IS. IT!”

His eyes well up as he pleads his case.

“THIS is what I fought SO HARD FOR. I didn’ fight ta sit at home on the damn couch and drink my life away, cher, I’M THE BEST IN DA GODDAMN WORLD. THIS IS WHAT I DO. THIS IS WHY I FIGHT. I ain’t about ta let anyone on dis fuckin planet take ANYTHING away from me. NEVA. EVA. End of story.”

“And how are you going to fight with one arm?” 

“Ahhh I’ll make it happen. I always do.”

“If you’re not going to do it for the doctor and you’re not going to do it for me… can you at least do it for your mom? Your little sister.”

“I ain’t failin dem again.”

“I’m not asking you to quit, Matt. A couple of months. Get the surgery. Rest up from the concussion. A time and place will come to make the decision about what you do for the rest of your life but rest-assured you’ll always have a home in DEFIANCE. We’ll find something and make it work, I promise you.” Ayake reassures, “You’ve proven your worth to us. This business won’t leave you again.”

Matt stares back in silence.

“There are dozens of kids growing up right now wearing a Southern Strong Style shirt all around this city who need you alive. One day they’re going to wrestle in high school. They’re going to get a call from DEFIANCE and they’re going to need someone to show them the way.” Ayake reassures him, “Just like Billy Starr did for you when your dad passed away. I can’t think of a better man than Matt LaCroix to teach them how to fight back and succeed in this world.”

“Billy Starr was a World Champion. Ain’t nobody interested in a failure.”

“You said yourself the Southern Heritage Championship is the one that meant the most to you. You did it and in the eyes of the people in this city you’re a hero. You left a broken man and came back ‘The Best In The World.’ This world needs more men like Matt LaCroix.”

The Reaper of the Pontchartrain tries to move his right arm but it barely budges.

“Alright. I’ll get the surgery.” Matt says in disgust, “But you betta go back ta the WrestlePlex and you let’em know…

…Matt LaCroix ain’t done.”

The high black water
A devil's daughter
She's hard, she's cold, and she's mean
But nobody taught her
It takes a lot of water
To wash away New Orleans

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