Author's Note: This story is kayfabe canon up until Hard Justice 2006. Anything that has transpired since that point will have little to no effect on the events here. It just happens to be a very creepy coincidence that certain happenings currently in TNA are similar to what I planned out two months earlier…
Act One
Some Kind of Monster
Everything hurt.
Physically, he was drained; mentally, he was exhausted. Every movement caused pain and every joint ached even when still. When he gathered his strength to lift his arm high enough to rub his neck and shoulder he couldn't help but wince at the agony a mere touch brought, so tight were his muscles.
Jerry Lynn had told him to get some sleep, but that was the last thing on Chris Sabin's mind tonight. By all rights he shouldn't have had the energy to walk, let alone go for the half-hour jog after the excruciating workout Lynn had put him through. But there were too many thoughts in his head at the moment, and every time he had closed his eyes, his imagination had played out scenario after scenario until he'd gotten fed up and decided to get some air.
He'd taken his ipod but it had done no good; his thoughts were so loud and persistent that they had drowned out the music. Eventually he had admitted defeat, and now sat alone on a park bench, staring into the dark nothing but seeing so much more.
Kevin Nash and Alex Shelley and all their ridiculous mind games had gotten into his head – and the worst part was that he knew it but could do nothing about it. With every step he took he was replaying past encounters; with every breath he was repeating what had been said; with every passing second he was considering possible outcomes to their next confrontation. Lynn had taken it upon himself to prepare him for that moment, but, while he was still very young, Sabin had been around long enough to recognize that his greatest obstacle was all in his head.
Sabin had never been one to play mind games. He was strong, fast and brutal when he needed to be, and had always been able to rely on these skills in the ring. It wasn't as though he couldn't be provoked – especially by Petey Williams, alongside whom he had trained and broken into the sport – but nothing compared to the reaction that Nash and Shelley were causing.
They were making him doubt himself.
Alex Shelley was talented, to be sure, but up until recently had been considered little more than a devious, self-serving miscreant of the X-Division; he was a man with a tentative few allies (most of whom were associated with the Planet Jarrett super-stable) and even fewer friends. When Shelley had won the right to compete on Team USA in the 2006 World X Cup at the Sacrifice pay-per-view together with himself, Jay Lethal and Sonjay Dutt, Sabin had at first been skeptical – sentiments that were shared by anyone concerned with the tournament. But, as captain of the team, Sabin had urged the others (and himself) to give Shelley a chance.
The first snag had come in an exhibition match against Team Canada. Having been doing some scouting of the other squads, captain Petey Williams and his teammates had wisely used their past ties to Shelley to both lure him into a false sense of security and add to the mistrust already brewing within Team USA. Shelley had refused to take part and actively attack those he believed to be his allies. When Shelley had finally been forced to get involved, however, Team Canada had had no problem attacking him, harshly reminding him that, in the tournament, their alliance with him did not exist.
And, contrary to the vast majority of expectations, Shelley had well learned the lesson and became a contributing member of the team in several matches after that. But the mistrust was still there and had been especially evident in Dutt, who had seemed entirely unable to give Shelley the benefit of the doubt.
Then Shelley had dropped a bombshell. In his continuing endeavor to capture exclusive footage of ground-breaking company news (or so he said; mainly his work was used for blackmail and humiliation, at that point having targeted Jackie Gayda, Sting and then-NWA World Heavyweight Champion Christian Cage), he had managed a one-on-one interview with the ever-controversial Kevin Nash. Shelley had shown the interview to his teammates under the pretence of warning them of Nash's pending return, for the big man had gone on record saying that he was out to destroy the X-Division.
And on May 18th, Nash had made good on his promise, appearing in the Impact Zone, after Sabin had defeated Williams in the World X Cup tiebreaker final, and blindsiding him. He'd left him bloodied and beaten for all to see after a Jackknife Powerbomb and then had stepped back to admire his handiwork as Lethal, Dutt, Shelley and Jerry Lynn, the X-Division icon who had appointed Sabin as captain, rushed to the ring. But Shelley had shown his true colours that night; with an uncaring farewell to his now-former teammates, he'd coolly strolled up the entrance ramp and placed himself solidly beside Nash.
The betrayal had been hard to swallow, coming as it had at a time when many were praising Shelley for learning to be part of a team. But it was the humiliation he'd suffered at the hands of Nash that Sabin found impossible to ignore. That was why, two weeks later, he had run out to rescue Lethal from the duo's post-match beat-down and challenged Nash to a match at the next pay-per-view: Slammiversary.
That was when things had gone from bad to worse. Before, Sabin had been merely a faceless X-Division athlete to Nash; now, he had become a personal conquest. The mind games had begun and they had recruited Johnny Devine into their stable, solidifying their genuine threat to the X-Division and allowing them another angle from which to attack.
Sabin had started looking over his shoulder in parking lots at that point – as Nash and Shelley had taken particular interest in watching Sabin's matches and studying his abilities – wondering (or was it fearing?) when the scouting would turn into a late-night curb-stomping. There was no two ways about it: they'd had him well and truly spooked, and when Slammiversary had ended, Nash had a win over Sabin.
That was when the initial seed of doubt had been planted, but Sabin had refused to back down and had requested another match at Victory Road from TNA Management Director Jim Cornette. This time, he and Lethal would take on Nash and Shelley, and even with Devine at ringside they had managed to score a win. The victory had been bittersweet; Sabin's shaky self-confidence had made him wonder if he could only beat Nash with backup present. Maybe he really couldn't stand up to the big man one-on-one. Maybe, just maybe, size really did matter.
And now Nash had set up the rubber match at Hard Justice with Cornette and the stakes were higher than ever: the winner would receive an X-Division title shot. This was why Jerry Lynn had decided to prepare Sabin just as Shelley and Devine were training Nash in their trademark technical and high-flying style (not that he was adapting well, but that was another story entirely). If Nash was to win this match, it would not only be a mockery of the entire X-Division, but it could give him enough momentum to overcome the current champion, completing his mission to destroy everything the X-athletes had built.
To say that Sabin was feeling the pressure would be somewhat of an understatement. It was eating away at him and tonight he sat on his own, staring into the black sky, seeking even a moment of blissful solace.
"Nice night."
Sabin's ears perked up at the voice but he kept his eyes forward, not wanting to acknowledge the presence that had disturbed him from the trance that had been so close to clearing his mind. Damn you, he thought bitterly and considered putting his earphones back in to indicate his desire to be alone. There was something about the voice, however, that he recognized but could not place.
"Little late for you to be out, isn't it? I thought you X-Div guys called it at nine after a brisk jog and a round of Halo."
Sabin snorted. Alex Shelley had suggested as much in his most recent 'Paparazzi Productions' video. He'd even gone so far as to say that he was the only member interested in girls.
"Not everything Shelley says is true, you know," he said.
"But a lot of it is – or just true enough to screw you over. Especially if he catches you on camera. I oughtta know."
Sabin didn't answer, hoping the visitor would take the hint and leave him alone. He'd figured out by now who was behind the voice and had no interest in continuing the conversation. Unfortunately he would have no such luck; the person sat down next to him on the bench. He mentally scolded himself for not stretching across it to further discourage any company.
"What do you want?" he said resignedly, knowing that he would not be left alone until the other had said her piece.
Jackie Gayda smiled. "Not very friendly, are you?" Sabin started to leave and she changed tactics. "Jerry Lynn can't help you, you know."
"Neither can you," Sabin replied easily, putting his earphones back in.
"True," she conceded. "But I know somebody who can."
"I don't care," he said gruffly, forcing her hand. It was far too late and he was in no mood for playing games. If she had something to say, she was going to have to get to the point – otherwise he was prepared to walk. Watching her out of the corner of his eye as he zipped up his light jacket, he could see that she knew it.
"You can't sleep can you?" she tried again.
"I'm out jogging at four in the morning – what was your first clue?"
"You're exhausted and you lie in bed but you toss and turn because you can't shut off your brain," she continued, undaunted. "And when you finally do drift off, your dreams are so vivid that they might as well be real. He's in your head and you can't stop thinking about him."
"It's you who has the problem with Shelley, Jackie," Sabin shrugged. "Don't project your insomnia on me."
"I didn't say anything about Shelley."
Sabin blinked, replaying the conversation thus far in his head. "You implied…from before…"
"Okay," Jackie said, an enigmatic smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"It's Nash I'm concerned about," Sabin returned a little too quickly.
"Okay," Jackie repeated, the one word being enough to completely confuse Sabin. His over-tired mind tried unsuccessfully to make sense of what had just happened in that short conversation and why Jackie now looked so smug over his misinterpretation of her words. She waited just long enough for him to be visibly annoyed before she stood up in one smooth motion.
"You've got more talent in your baby toe than most guys could ever hope to have, but your full potential is still far from being realized," she said boldly. "Your head's in the wrong place, Sweetie, and like I said before, Jerry Lynn can't help you get it where you need it to be. We can."
Sabin caught the strange glimmer in her eyes and suddenly felt very uncomfortable in her presence. Hastily excusing himself, he turned on his music and had to force himself to walk, and not run, away from the park. Jackie watched him go, smiling.
"What do you think?" Raven asked her, coming out of the shadows to where she stood. "Will he come to us?"
Jackie laughed. "Are you kidding? Everything I told him, he was already thinking – or trying not to think. He'll practically come running once he admits that it's all true."
Raven allowed a sadistic smile to crack his hard features. "Magnificent."
The sun was peeking over the horizon when Sabin dragged himself into the gym only a couple of hours later. There were dark circles under his eyes and he slowly sipped from a cup of hot coffee, desperate as he was for a caffeine fix. His short, spiky hair was disheveled and he walked with short, deliberate steps so as not to fall over. In fact, if Jerry Lynn hadn't known him better, he'd have sworn that the kid was severely hung over, if not still drunk.
"You didn't sleep, did you?" he got right to the point, to which Sabin shook his head once. After his impromptu meeting with Jackie Gayda, he'd gone back to the hotel to try for a couple hours rest, but had ended up tossing and turning, his head more full than ever.
Lynn stood with his arms crossed, carefully scrutinizing the young man who, for years now, he had put his faith in to uphold the legacy of the X-Division that he had helped create. Lynn had considered himself somewhat of a surrogate father to Sabin, seeing something special in the kid long before anyone else had. Sabin had the kind of enthusiasm, aggression, and eagerness to learn that had never ceased to impress him. And it bothered him now to see him like this.
He also knew Sabin well enough to know that going easy on him was not going to solve anything. The kid had never liked to be treated specially, outright hating the idea of receiving a free ride. He had always pushed himself to be the best and to prove that as fact to everybody else. The problem was, these days, in this feud with Nash, Sabin seemed to be trying extra hard (clearly now needing to prove it to himself as well), and it was taking its toll.
Lynn chose his words carefully. "Am I not working you hard enough, kid, that you're not tired enough to sleep after a session?"
Sabin met Lynn's searching gaze, his blue eyes bloodshot but still surprisingly sharp and aware, and considered the question. "No," he answered finally. "I need to learn more."
Lynn nodded gruffly. "All right, then. Hit the heavy bag; today we work on your striking and dodging. Nash will try to lure you into a brawl and you need to know how to counter and avoid it."
Sabin said nothing and started toward the designated area. He could feel Lynn watching him, but his thoughts were elsewhere. His mind was playing games on him again, making him second guess his words. What exactly had he meant by his response to his mentor? He'd thought at the time that he wanted Lynn to work him harder, to prepare him for every possible scenario in his upcoming match. But now he was remembering Jackie's warning that Jerry Lynn – the 'X-Division Pioneer,' as he was so often dubbed – could not help him. Had he subconsciously meant that he 'needed to learn more' than Lynn was capable of teaching him?
Frustrated by these ever-present conflicting thoughts, Sabin dove into his workout, hoping that, with the adrenaline flowing, everything would somehow become clearer.
It didn't.
