Blood and Dreams

Christina Ortega

It’s amazing how quickly life goes by.
I feel as if I’ve been frozen, watching the world change...I’ve become older, my kids have grown, my wife, ever beautiful, has aged since that lovely day when I made her my bride. However, I’ve been doing everything besides standing still. The scars, my missing ear, the emotional ramifications...they all prove that I’ve lived my life to the fullest.

Actually, I suppose that depends on an individual’s view of life. If living is exerting yourself to your full potential, reaching every goal you’ve set for yourself, then I’ve done it...but if it’s putting yourself to the side for the sake of your loved ones then I haven’t even begun to live. My kids...I’m their super hero, and yet do they truly know me? Am I just the cool guy on TV that comes home a few times to play with them?

Ok, I won’t lie. I haven’t achieved everything I’ve dreamed of. After fifteen years of blood, sweat, and tears one thing has eluded me. The ultimate prize. Defending the WWF championship at Wrestlemania. I’ve done it at the Royal Rumble, sure, but what is that compared to the biggest annual event in sports entertainment? Wrestlemania. For fifteen years I’ve thought about it, dreamed about it...hell, I’m sure I’ve even prayed about it.

Wrestlemania. The name, the word, tempts me. Tortures me. I want it...I want it so badly that I can taste it, but one man stands in my way. One man who threatens my dream. Threatens my career.

My final day will be Wrestlemania, and its not really because the doctors have warned me about brain damage and various other serious physical risks associated with this business. They’ve been telling me that crap all my life. I just feel its time to finally grow up, let the bright stars of the future get the spotlight, and be the father I could never be.

Triple H, however, is a barrier to the picturesque ending of my career. Hunter Hearst Helmsly...a man who has crippled people all his life. A man who will push the limits of his body to win a match. A man who shows no mercy. I can’t handle him...

But Cactus Jack would love to.

Cactus Jack has been screaming for the chance to resurface. I hate the guy. It’s no secret...even Hunter was able to figure it out. Everything I said about Triple H is true about Cactus only he takes it to the extreme. Hunter would pass out if his body could no longer endure the pain. Cactus Jack IS pain. He thrives on it, enjoys it, yearns for it.

Someone so evil, so sadistic, frightens me, though I’m not truly afraid for my own physical and mental state. Hell, both Mankind and Dude Love have taken their fair share of beatings, but I’m more afraid for my family. My children. What happens if he comes out after one of them do something wrong and I’m unable to control him? God, I can’t even think about it.



Everyone believes that Cactus appeared when Hunter slammed me through that announce table or when he hit me over the head with the ring bell. He shouldn’t take so much pride in himself. Those two shots were the last straw, I’ll give him that, but Cactus had been yearning for blood long before that time. What caused this? I really don’t have a clue, but it started around Armageddon at the beginning of the McMahon-Helmsly Era.

To be honest, Cactus didn’t really have his eyes set on Triple H in the beginning. I can’t explain it, but he wanted the Outlaws. Badly, which is kinda strange considering that, while I don’t like them any more than they like me, there wasn’t a huge rivalry between us after Armageddon. The only thing I can think of is that he remembered the humiliation caused when the Outlaws aligned themselves with DX and massacred Terry Funk and himself inside of a steel cage. It took all my power to hold him back when Road Dogg’s arm lightly brushed against mine as he made his way to the Titan Tron one night.

Well, regardless of how Cactus Jack returned to existence he’s here and is anxiously awaiting Sunday. Hunter’s blood tasted so good to him at the Royal Rumble. Sweet...full of fear and desperation. Cactus wants to take Gangrel’s goblet, pour himself more of that sensual elixir from a life-threatening wound on Triple H’s body, and drink it in celebration of his easy win at No Way Out.

Thoughts like these scare me more than words can say. I’m not a murderer or a vampire, but Cactus Jack may as well be. He loves blood, whether it be his own or his opponent’s. Hunter got lucky at the Royal Rumble. It won’t happen again.

Hell in a Cell. The most dangerous match in the WWF. My specialty...well, Mankind’s, I should say. Mankind against Undertaker in Hell in a Cell was one of the most painful yet simulating matches of my entire life. Is Triple H insane? He agreed to Hell in a Cell with Cactus Jack! Mankind endured this match a few years ago, and he, while not my weakest personality, is definitely not my toughest. Cactus Jack WILL kill Hunter. I’m not being cocky...hell, I’m being sympathetic. Jerry Lawler often says that stupidity should be painful, but no mistake is worth going into Hell with Cactus Jack. He’s gotten a taste of Triple H...a taste which he remembers from Madison Square Garden about two years ago, and I’ll assure you that the Outlaws have long been forgotten by his twisted mind.

My career or his title, and I can honestly say, in the words of Vince McMahon, that he doesn’t have a chance in hell of beating me. I’ve actually begun to worry about Hunter. Shit, I never thought I’d hear myself say that, but it’s true. At the Royal Rumble he lost so much blood thanks to Cactus. There’s something he needs to understand...Cactus Jack/Mankind/Dude Love...we all have three types of matches in which we are unstoppable: hardcore, boiler room, and Hell in a Cell. The Outlaws were some damn hard competition in the hardcore realm and Undertaker proved he could hang with me in Hell in a Cell, but let’s face it...Terry Funk and I weren’t always the best tag team in the world and it wasn‘t Cactus in that cell with Mark Calloway on the eve of King of the Ring 1998.

I would love to see Hunter suffer. Don’t get me wrong when I say that I pity him because I’d love to see blood running down his perfect face and soaking into his dirty blond locks. He has hurt me physically, attacked my pride, and even made my family suffer with that moronic pink slip on a pole match. What I’m saying is that Hunter hasn’t killed me...not by a long shot, but Cactus will destroy him. It isn’t really a fair fight. Then again, what does Cactus know about fair?

After Sunday I’ll have my belt. I’ve been biding my time ever since I lost the title...teaming up with Al Snow or the Rock, emotionally supporting Big Show after his father died and, even worse, after he found out that this man wasn’t really his father, and trying to rally the other WWF superstars against the McMahon-Helmsly Era, but in the back of my mind I’ve always yearned for gold.

What’s frightening is that I don’t really think Cactus has his mind on the title. Dude Love has been thinking nonstop about Wrestlemania and agonizing over the prospect that we might be fired before then. Mankind is fully focused on the WWF championship belt. Cactus Jack just wants to hear Hunter’s bones crack under his body.

Now I stand inside of the arena waiting for Sunday Night Heat to begin. I was finally able to convince Cactus Jack to come here...that it would be a good chance to scout our competition. Hell, Triple H isn’t going to be here. At least, for his sake, I hope he won’t be. Tonight isn’t a sell out crowd so I stand in the very back row, twitching slightly as the explosions begin at the ring. Loud noises have always made Cactus Jack wary...it’s something to do with only having one ear, I suppose.

Speak of the devils themselves...I cringe inwardly as Cactus focuses on the New Age Outlaws seated just a few rows in front of me staring intently at the ring. Obviously they’re here to keep an eye on their competition as well. The Dudleyz are scheduled to be in the ring against D’Lo and the Godfather tonight. Cactus licks his lips, wanting blood, and I start the never-ending battle between us once again. I hate the Outlaws...I do, but I don’t really give a damn about them right now. My goal is the championship. Hunter. I have no business with the Outlaws. Hell, they probably think I’m still floundering around in the barren area where they dropped me from the DX Express on Thursday.

Billy Gunn notices me first, and he sends an icy glare in my direction. Obviously he has no intention of leaving and is daring me to make a move. Cactus wants to jump at the opportunity but I hold him back. The damn idiot needs to realize that he doesn’t WANT the Outlaws. They’re just Triple H’s little pawns who are being used much like the rest of the Federation even if they aren’t aware of it yet. Mankind was telling the truth when he said that Hunter would leave DX high and dry one day. He will...and then they’ll be just as badly off as the rest of us.

Seeing Cactus’ relaxed stance Billy releases him from his cold stare and turn back towards the ring. However, I see him wrap a protective arm around his partner’s shoulders and pull Jesse closer as the younger man says something to him. I can’t make out what it is. Billy turns around one last time, but his expression is different. Before his eyes were fierce, begging for a fight, but now he’s begging for something else. A truce for tonight. I force Cactus to nod at his request and watch as he responds to some question that Jesse had asked before facing the ring again. I don’t think Road Dogg has any idea that I’m here, and it doesn’t look like his best friend is planning on telling him. Good.

I’ve gotten a bit of leverage over Cactus Jack because he quickly puts the Outlaws out of his mind and starts thinking about Hunter again. He tells me how he can’t wait to fly off that cage and crash against Triple H’s bleeding body...how he’s going to tear Hunter’s flesh from his bones...how wonderful the sound of DX leader’s skull bouncing off of the steel cage will be...how he’s going to laugh when his wife and friends come to help him.

In this case stupidity will be painful. Tonight I was able to restrain Cactus Jack...it’s one of the first times I’ve ever been able to do it, but when he’s in the ring against an opponent I can’t control him. Hunter learned that lesson at the Royal Rumble and he’ll learn it again at No Way Out. I’ll give him a bit of credit. After all, he did beat me at my own game in that street fight without any assistance from DX. He did become as sadistic and sick as he said he would be, but there’s one thing Triple H will realize at No Way Out. Cactus Jack only makes mistakes one time...he doesn’t repeat them ever again. He underestimated Triple H once, but this time Cactus is ready for whatever he has planned.

Rock and Big Show. I’m friends with both men, but they had better beware because one of them will be going against me, the future WWF champion, at Wrestlemania, and Cactus Jack doesn’t make exceptions for friends. He will give no clemency in the ring. April second...Wrestlemania...Cactus Jack will have gold around his waist, and one man will be left standing.

Let me apologize to you, Rock, and to you, Big Show. Hell, and since I do have a small amount of respect for his athletic abilities, I’ll say I’m sorry to Triple H as well. At Wrestlemania one man will be covered with blood lying on the brink of death and the other will be raising the World Wrestling Federation’s most prized offering. That other will be Cactus Jack...and in his moment of triumph, Rock...Big Show...Triple H, he will be smiling, Dude Love will be laughing, Mankind will be celebrating, and I...Mick Foley...will be the proudest man alive.

The End