"HARVEST MOON: THE VALENTINE CONSPIRACY"
A Harvest Moon fanfiction by: Rune Reverend
Author's Note: I wrote this a while ago and I've decided to put it up. Mind you, it might not be as up to snuff as my most recent work, but its still a fun read. I hope you guys enjoy it. As with my other HM fanfics, it has a less than conventional start for our protagonist, Jack. In this story, before the start of the events in Back to Nature, Jack works as a popular professional wrestler by the name of Ace Valentine. He's a tired, worn out man and he just wants to go home. But fame and the people who are latched on to him as a massive celebrity aren't as willing to just let him walk away. What starts as a plan to simply get away and live a simpler life turns into a conspiracy that will change the people who live in Flowerbud forever.
**** Chapter One: "The Final Curtain" ****
Ace Valentine slammed up against the corner turnbuckle and prepared for the coming elbow. With tremendous force, The man known as The Cleaver slammed into Ace and drove his elbow into the side of his head. Stunned, Ace dropped to the mat and sighed to himself.
Amidst the sweat and blood pouring down his face, the roar of twenty thousand people deafening in his ear, and the bright lights blinding him from up above, Ace could instinctively feel what was next. The crowd's roar built up as though they sensed something significant was coming. They had no idea, Jack thought to himself.
The finisher was the exclamation point of a wrestling match. And Cleaver's was, unfortunately, more sizzle than steak. Looked great, but didn't hit very hard. Aaron would climb the turnbuckle and launch his six foot, two-hundred-and-forty-pound body across the ring, eight feet in the air at least, until he finally planted both his elbows onto Ace's chest. It was one of his signature moves, the Sky Scraper. Sure enough, Ace could practically tell where Aaron was by the sound of the audience. He listened to their cries and BAM Cleaver landed on top of him hard.
Ace was dizzy, fatigued, and physically and emotionally spent. And for good reason. Tonight was the biggest night of both his and Cleaver's careers. It was Sunday night at the biggest wrestling Pay-Per-View of the year: Revolution. And the two men in the ring were of differing contrast.
One corner was Aaron "The Cleaver" Cliver, the skilled rookie who debuted at Revolution the previous year. An all-American amateur wrestler, former illegal cage fighter, and massive hulking corn-fed country boy with a cropped head of blonde hair, a menacing stare and a wicked habit for crippling hits and submission holds. He ascended the ranks quickly and become an unlikely-but popular-contender for the American Wrestling Federation's biggest title: the World Heavyweight Championship-a title Ace had won multiple times and had held longer than anyone in the company's history. Last year, Cleaver had debuted but this year he was trying for the third time to secure the title. He'd tried to take it from some of the best wrestlers in the business. 'The Baron' Raymon Vilaar and 'The Storm' Matthew Skinner were among those who'd defended the title against Cleaver, but managed to fend him off.
And on the other side of the ring was Ace Valentine, the successful and charismatic champion. Ace had all that life could offer him: money, fame, women, and legions of followers who lived and died each week only to see him wrestle. He was a stark contrast to the larger Cleaver, who had a small following and more mat skills than Ace did. Ace was a brawler by heart and a high-flier second, but he felt weak and thinned out tonight.
It would be over soon.
Ace had seen to it in the weeks leading up to the pay-per-view that he had forced Cleaver to put everything on the line: The title and their careers. It was an hour long Iron Man match, with the score currently at 5-5 and with only a minute remaining on the clock. It was also a "loser-leaves-town" match. The loser would lose his contract and would be forced to leave the Federation permanently.
It was a match Ace Valentine had no intention of winning.
"For Pete's sake, Cleaver!" Ace thought to himself. "Why'd you have to use that stupid elbow?"
Cleaver covered Ace for the pin and the ref counted 1...2...
Ace kicked out suddenly. No way was he going down to Cleaver's stupid Sky Scraper, not a chance! Ace had to swallow the rising shame that he had been feeling for the past eight weeks. It was his pride. He wanted to lose, but not in such a way that it made him look like a pushover. Ace had taken some of the most brutal beatings in his short career and he intended to make it look like he had been nearly killed to be pinned.
30 seconds left...
Cleaver stood up and cursed, slamming his hands to the mat. Ace had kicked out of all three of his finishers: The Iron Cross, the Irondriver, and now the Sky Scraper! On the mat, Ace waited for Cleaver to make his next move.
20 seconds...
Ace thought fleetingly of jumping up and knocking Cleaver's teeth in. He had the reserves. He could fight for another minute, clean Cleaver's clock, take him down with his own finisher, The Massacre, and retain the championship. He'd be the man again!
15...
Ace squelched that idea. It was his fourth run as champ. He's been the man and all that. Cleaver grabbed him by the hair and hauled him to his feet. Cleaver ran his thumb across his throat, gesturing to the crowd that it was time to end it all. Ace couldn't agree more.
10...
Cleaver scooped Ace up and readied him with a variation of the Cradle Piledriver.
9...
Unexpectedly, he strolled backwards and used his feet to climb the turnbuckle.
8...
He reached the top turnbuckle and looked around.
7...
Ace closed his eyes and prepared for the Irondriver...delivered from the top turnbuckle!
6...
The crowd's roar was deafening. Ace would pull out of it, he always did! if they only knew Ace had no intention of justifying their faith in him.
5...
Ace prayed to God. "Let me be safe."
4...
Allan launched himself off, soaring through the air.
3...
BAM! Ace hit head first and folded up like an accordion.
2...
Cleaver hooked Ace's leg. The ref counted "ONE!"
1...
"TWO!"
0...
"THREE"
"BZZZT!" The buzzer announced the end of the match. The crowd, on its feet, looked on in disbelief. It was draw, they knew. The announcer looked in confusion at the referee, who threw hand symbols at him. The two men came to the side of the ring and argued for a moment. The play-by-play announcer and the color commentator argued if the match was a draw or if the three count was done.
After a moment, the announcer nodded and grabbed his microphone, standing in the ring; the ref grabbed the AWF World title belt and held it. Cleaver stood to his feet, anxious to hear the result. Ace stood up with help from another ref. Blood flowed down from the wound on his forehead. Cleaver had hit him with a chair and cut him open, but he wasn't concerned.
The announcer said, "Ladies and gentleman, the referee's decision has been made. Because the three-count was completed before the buzzer, it was done within the limits of the match."
The crowd sensed what was next and reacted. It was beyond simple booing or cheering, but rather a plethora of raised voices that almost drowned out the announcer, whose next words threw the building in an uproar. "Therefore, the winner of the match...AND NEW AWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION...AARON "THE CLEAVER" CLIVER!"
Ace felt a terrible weight lift from his shoulders. The crowd's roar was silent to him. He shook his head, turning his thick mane of long brown hair into a blood slinging mop. He was dimly aware of the ref handed a ten pound, golden belt to a shocked Cleaver. The young man merely stared at it. The ref raised his hand in victory. He was simply too shocked over the win to even register that he was the Champ now.
It was the first time in three years that anyone, much less a rookie, had pinned Ace to the mat and scored a clean win. Yet, here he stood as the new champion. He turned to Ace, who had started to make his way out of the ring and stopped him. "Hey!"
Ace paused, stepping back in as Cleaver came over to him.
"Ace...I'm sorry, man!" He yelled above the crowd's clamor. It surprised Ace. He and Cleaver had been bitter rivals for the last year or so. The two had insulted each other, decimated each other, torn their bodies apart so badly that it shocked Ace to hear Clever say that.
But Allan knew the ramifications of their match and truthfully he hadn't expected to win it. The bookers had even gone so far as to not put Cleaver's name on the card for the night following the PPV. And Ace was their star attraction, their hero. He'd done movies, TV, music, a book...Ace was one of the most famous celebrities on the face of the planet and now he was gone.
Ace shook his head softly. "I'm not."
It happened so fast, Ace wasn't sure it had happened. Cleaver suddenly shot forward and Ace was sure the man would knock him out, but instead he wrapped his arms around the other man in such a touching gesture of showmanship that it was the spark that lit the thunderous stadium into deafening applause and cheers. It was so loud, people covered their ears to from the noise.
Ace returned the embrace and held his hands up along with Cleaver as the two strolled around the ring to the ovation of the audience. Eventually, as they posed for the crowd, the entire locker room emptied out to stand outside the ring and alongside the ramp, applauding.
Ace knew what was next. It was time to go.
Slowly, he made his way out of the ring and towards the ramp to the applause and salutes of his peers. To him, though, he heard nothing. His mind was a blank, though it was also filled with a terrible feeling of loss. He came to the foot of the ramp and decided that he would not leave with his back turned to everyone. He spun around and walked slowly backwards up the ramp with his arms held high. The crowd's ovation had gone on for a long time, almost half an hour.
They were thanking Ace for all the memories, the moments, the risks, the blood spilled and words thrown. Allan was champion, but this was truly Ace's moment. He reached the top of the ramp and didn't stop until he vanished beneath the black curtain. Once there, he spun around and marched quickly towards the parking lot.
Ace knew he didn't have much time. Everyone in a twenty mile radius would be clamoring to him, trying to wish him well, beg him not to go. And the lawyers! He had to leave before the lawyers got to him. He didn't want it anymore. He had to leave and leave soon. Every step he took, he felt as though he were shaking off years of turmoil, personal grief, and heartache. All shedding off him the closer he got to his car. Everyone he passed, tried to say something, but he heard none of it. He was deaf to the world. Later on, he felt bad that he had even walked by the beautiful blonde haired Mira as she cried her eyes out and begged him not to leave the arena.
Finally, he reached his rental car, stepped inside and drove off just as the owner of AWF, Aaron St. Claire, rushed out to see him leave. "Ace! ACE!"
But it was too late.
As he pulled out of the parking lot, the last trace of his persona-the name of Ace Valentine-vanished. Ace Valentine was gone.
And only Jack remained.