12 - A Reluctant Champion

Life on The Ever Given had been tough since Blackwater’s upset victory. Soon after his rescue mission had been foiled by Conrad and his Jabberwock mercenaries; both the new champion and his predecessor had been whisked away to separate ends of the massive tanker. Conrad was smart, he knew it would be in his best interests to keep the two apart.

So he did, and for what felt like an eternity to the new champion. Blackwater was left, isolated within a small room. It felt like a lifetime, yet in truth, it had merely been a few weeks whilst the tanker crossed the Pacific Ocean on a course towards Asia.

Whilst sat alone in isolation; he had constantly thought of April and the promise he made to her, by sticking two fingers up at the establishment and dropping their beautiful championship belt into the ocean.

One day, he managed to slip the Jabberwock guards assigned to watch his room, and covertly, he made his way up to the upper deck. He found a secluded area, hidden behind some container crates. Here, he took a moment to look out across the Pacific Ocean.

The fresh air felt nice against his skin, the wind blew through his matted hair whilst the bright moonlight added ample lighting, his one eye adjusted accordingly.

Now was the time; the reigning champion removed the championship belt from out of his jacket and looked upon the faceplate. He remembered the struggle he endured to win it; coming up short in the tournament, then becoming number one contender and later defeating his friend, Church.

But it was all a lie.

No prize money, no new life for The Solider of Fortune and April, fucking nothing. Merely an unwanted cruise holiday across the Pacific with shit food and no entertainment. At least Church didn’t have that collar on anymore.

Blackwater closed his eye and thought about April some more. He pictured her beautiful face, remembered her scent, he missed her so much yet was worried for her safety but felt reassured that Amanda had seen her to safety before she boarded the ship herself.

He next peered up to the sky and wondered what had happened to Peterson and Ortiz, his two Panama contacts who were supposed to fly the helicopter as part of the rescue mission he had devised. They were both trustworthy; they’d done many jobs together in the past. Blackwater suspected they were betrayed by someone else, perhaps someone they trusted. He was sure they’d been snuffed out by Jabberwock, their bodies probably sunken into the Panama Canal.

Blackwater winced in anger. He looked again at the championship belt and raised it up towards the moonlight, hovering it over the side of The Ever Given.

“Well Conrad, FUCK YOU!!!” he shouted out loud as he attempted to drop the belt overboard.

“SENOR!! SENOR!!!” a young boy appeared from out of a container crate, no more than twelve years old. He ran up to Blackwater, eager for the champion not to plunge the BPW Championship belt into the cold depths of the Pacific. Blackwater appeared confused, why was there a child on this God-forsaken ship? He pulled the belt back over the railing and onboard the ship, holding it in his left hand.

“Kid, what are you doing here?” the champion asked.

The boy began talking to Blackwater with an excited tone to his voice. He spoke what Blackwater could decipher as Spanish. The champion appeared to understand what the child was saying, but didn’t wish to engage in conversation.

The boy continued to talk at Blackwater, who at least somewhat entertained the boy’s excitement.

“So you're a stowaway, huh?” asked Blackwater.

“Si!! SI!!” the boy replied, before continuing to talk.

Blackwater noticed that the boy seemed transfixed by the BPW Championship; he begrudgingly lowered it to the boy so he could take a look at it.

“CAMPEON! CAMPEON!!” the boy proclaimed.

He looked down at the boy, a look of sadness slowly setting into Blackwater’s face.

“I’m no role model kid, I’m not a champion you should look up to. Perhaps I’m getting what I deserve. I didn’t deserve a gal like April, she’s probably better off without me and…"

“FREEZE!!!” shouted a Jabberwock guard, who had managed to sneak up on Blackwater and the young boy as the champion was beginning to open up, lowering his guard - to everything.

“Fuck sake,” Blackwater muttered under his breath as he turned to face the guard. He knew that his odds were already less than favourable. He was unarmed, he was sure the boy wasn’t packing heat either. Blackwater’s trusty Browning pistol had quickly been confiscated by a wide-necked henchman of Conrad Dukes. There would be hell to pay if he didn’t get that gun back someday.

“Put them up where I can see them!” the guard ordered. The boy looked at Blackwater for reassurance, the champion replied with a nod. Both of them reluctantly raised their arms, the championship belt still in Blackwater’s left hand.

Blackwater smirked; he found it somewhat amusing that at the end of his life he’d be holding up a championship belt in the air, one he’d just tried slinging over the edge of a jumbo tanker, one he was reluctant to carry. He closed his eye once more and began to think of April for a potentially the final time.

Whilst thinking of April; Blackwater contemplated bull-rushing the guard for a moment but was hesitant, that move would likely end with a bullet between his eyes. Suddenly, static could be heard coming through the guard's radio. He removed one arm from his firearm to answer it whilst maintaining constant eye contact with his hostages. After fumbling the dial, the guard quickly diverted his eyes down to the radio, and then the boy used that opportunity to attempt to run for his life.

“WAIT! KID… NO!!!” cried out Blackwater, as both he and the guard turned their attention towards the boy. The guard aimed in the fleeing boy’s direction, and without hesitation Blackwater dived in front of the youth as the guard pulled the trigger!

Blackwater slumped to the ground, shielding the boy from the gunfire.

He led there on the cold upper deck floor thinking about April. He thought about her scent one final time, the feeling of her skin, the taste of her lips. He closed his eye, ready to at last meet his maker - having lost his ninth and final life.

But he hadn't died; he quickly opened his eye and realised that he hadn’t been shot at all. He didn’t understand how, it was at near point-blank range. Then he finally learned what had happened as the faceplate of the BPW Championship belt came into his view; it had absorbed all three shots, the bullets were lodged within the metal!

He quickly turned his attention to the guard, who was frantically trying to unjam his firearm. Blackwater sighed with relief, that combined with the fact the gun was equipped with a silencer meant he’d dodged a bullet (excuse the pun), and no one else had heard the gunfire.

Realisation spread across both their faces; the guard realised he was in grave danger as he quickly fumbled his radio whilst attempting to call for backup. And Blackwaters face, realising his luck would finally run out if all the ships' Jabberwock guards descended upon this isolated incident. 

So Blackwater did the one thing he could, dropped the belt and bull-rushed the guard, driving him back-first against the storage container. After overpowering the mercenary; Blackwater proceeded to beat him with his fists. But the guard fired back with a stiff headbutt, knocking the champion back to the floor. As the guard charged for Blackwater, the champion reached for his belt and blasted the guard in the face with it.

The guard slumped to the floor and Blackwater mounted him, proceeding to continue using the belt as a weapon by beating the guard in the face with the heavy championship until he went limp.

Finally, Blackwater pulled himself up as he breathed heavily. He noticed the guards blood on the faceplate of the belt and attempted to wipe it off using the guard's overalls. He proceeded to search the guard's body, retrieving his radio and some cigarettes. The gun was useless however, there was no way he’d be able to hide that in his current predicament, plus it was completely jammed so he threw it overboard.

“CAMPEON! CAMPEON!!” The boy began to shout. 

Blackwater chuckled to himself, “Ok kid”.

He grabbed the radio and knelt down to the boys level. “I need you to do a job for me”.

Blackwater tried to do his best broken Spanish interpretation. He had a feeling the kid knew the ship like the back of the hand.

“Church?” he asked the boy, hoping he knew the whereabouts of the former champion's location.

“Si! Si!” the boy replied.

“Bueno,” he held up the radio, “give this to Church, por favor”.

The boy nodded in agreement and took the radio from the champion. Blackwater ruffled up the boy's hair in a sign of approval, then gestured for the boy to go. The boy ran off into the night; Blackwater watched on as he hoped the boy would complete his task, as well as remain safe.

He then looked at his championship belt once more, which was still blood-stained. Blackwater realised there at that moment that although he didn’t want to be BPW’s champion, or Conrad’s slave. Perhaps he wasn’t; instead, he was a champion of the people.

The reluctant champion looked at the night's sky one final time thinking that perhaps April would be proud of her loves new mindset, before he finally attempted to sneak back into his guarded room.