FWA: 'Lights Out' || Promo Thread

[Tommy Bedlam]

Promo Deadlines:

Sunday 1st October, 23:59 Pacific Time.
Monday 2nd October, 03:00AM Eastern.
Monday 2nd October, 08:00AM UK.
Monday 2nd October, 17:00PM Melbourne.

No extensions. Good luck!​

 

[Xavien-Marshall]

Spoiler: The Origin Story

Opportunities, ethereal as the morning mist, materialize on the horizon of life like fleeting whispers of fate. They are the luminescent constellations in the vast, uncharted cosmos of existence, beckoning us to navigate the boundless celestial sea. These elusive fragments of time are akin to the iridescent scales of a mythic dragon, awaiting the bold soul who dares to tread upon their shimmering path. Yet, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, it is the crucible of human resolve and the alchemy of unwavering purpose that transform these mere possibilities into the symphonies of destiny. Opportunities are the kaleidoscopic fragments of a shattered mirror, and it is in the careful arrangement of these fractured pieces that we construct the mosaic of our lives, reflecting the brilliance of what might be, if only we dare to embrace the infinite canvases of our potential.

Chapter 1: Tanzanian Nights

Xavien Marshall found himself stepping into a bustling and raucous locker room, finding it to have little contrast to the world he had known prior. The room was teeming with wrestlers and employees, and amidst the chaos, he spotted a group of people engaged in casual conversation. It was evident that this was not his usual crowd. No one seemed interested in offering advice to help him improve as a wrestler, nor did they extend any congratulations. But that suited Xavien just fine. His life had revolved around his own self-preservation for far too long.

With deliberate movements, he bent down to retrieve his black Adidas gym bag. Without bothering to change or engage with anyone, he headed towards the back exit. As he pushed through the door and moved down the sidewalk, he heard a voice calling after him.

"X! Wait up, man!"

Startled, he turned around to see Officer Martin, a figure he had not anticipated encountering. Tension gripped him as he regarded the law enforcement officer.

Officer Martin: "That was a hell of a performance for a first time, Xavien. You really put some vicious moves on him there at the end."

Xavien Marshall: "Moves? That's the type of shit I've had to do to make it for a long time."

Officer Martin fixed him with a curious gaze, making the moment feel unnaturally long.

Officer Martin: "You want some good news or the bad news?"

Xavien's tension escalated. He was not sure what to expect.

Xavien Marshall: "Let's start with the good. And another thing, don't pull up behind me like that again. I'm not trying to have any problems, and cops running up behind me is a good way to cause me one... again."

Officer Martin continued to scrutinize him before delivering the news.

Officer Martin: "The good news is that it looks like you're in a Battle Royal next week."

Xavien Marshall: "Battle Royal? How's that work?"

Officer Martin: "So it's like this, man. 10 or 15 people jump into a ring and try to throw each other out. Whoever the final two are will wrestle in a match, and the winner gets the Gunfight One Ring. If you have that ring, you can challenge for the FWA X Championship."

Xavien Marshall: "Shit, if I have that ring, I'm gonna pawn the motherfucker."

He chuckled, but Officer Martin remained serious.

Xavien Marshall: "I'm fucking with you, dawg. Chill the fuck out. God damn. Who is the X Champion? That belt seems made for me."

Officer Martin: "Tommy Bedlam. You've probably seen him around. Bit of a cowboy, likes to drink. He could lose it, though."

Xavien Marshall: "Ah yeah. Texas boy. Won't even look my way. Wonder if it's something I did?"

Xavien glanced at his arms, hinting that it might be a racial issue inhibiting friendly interaction between him and Tommy.

Officer Martin: "Again, he could lose it."

Xavien Marshall: "Shit, I hope not. Nothing would make me happier than to show up here and stomp the teeth out of one of those southern hillbillies that think I don't deserve to live because of the color of my skin. Dude probably wears Blue Lives Matter t-shirts and shit."

Officer Martin looked down and realized he was wearing a black t-shirt with a thin blue stripe across it.

Officer Martin: "Listen. Don't worry about the champ. You've got a long road until then. Including outlasting a lot of other guys in this Battle Royal. That's no easy feat."

Xavien Marshall: "Locked in a square with 15 dudes trying to kill me? Motherfucker, where I'm from that's a Tuesday."

Xavien began to walk away, but before he could get far, Officer Martin called after him.

Officer Martin: "Xavien."

Xavien turned back to face his parole officer.

Officer Martin: "We didn't get to the bad news."

Xavien's nerves resurfaced, and he couldn't deny his concern.

Officer Martin: "I got a complaint that you might have robbed someone near your brother's house. A friend of mine, to be exact. He said you took $10 and let him go."

Xavien looked back, contemplating how to respond.

Xavien Marshall: "That ain't true... I took $20."

An awkward silence hung between them. Martin appreciated the honesty.

Officer Martin: "Xavien, you just got home. I could send your ass right back to the State Penitentiary right now. I've gotten you this opportunity, do you even care? You could've killed this guy."

Xavien Marshall: "If I wanted to kill him, I would've. I didn't. He offered me $50, I took $20. I was hungry as fuck, and I'm just trying to fucking survive. When's this wrestling shit going to pay me anyway?"

Officer Martin reached into the pocket of his blue jeans and pulled out an envelope. He handed it over to Xavien.

Officer Martin: "Here's your money for tonight. Spend it wisely. My friend recommended I leave you free, but don't fuck up again. I wouldn't cut a break like this to anyone else. From now on, keep your violence in the ring."

Xavien regarded the officer for a moment, torn between his natural resentment towards law enforcement and the fact that Officer Martin had just cut him some slack. He took the money and managed a slight smirk and nodded at his parole officer before turning away. There was a plane to catch back to the streets that made him, for better or for worse.

Chapter 2: Home Street Home

As Xavien disembarked from the plane at Burke Lakefront Airport in Cleveland, a chill hung in the air, an unpleasant reminder of the bipolar seasons in Northeast Ohio. Just weeks earlier, the shores of Lake Erie had warmed by a strange convection, and now the promise of the impending Winter loomed. This was life for those in this part of Ohio, but it had been long ago that it was reality for him. His journey to Tanzania had been a complex one. Officer Martin had pulled strings to make it happen, allowing Xavien entry into the country. It was a place he had never even heard of, yet the prospect of venturing to such a culturally distant land filled him with a rare excitement. Officer Martin had assured him that the logistics of travel were taken care of; Xavien's sole focus should be on wrestling.

Wrestling, he discovered, was far more exhilarating than he had ever imagined. The jeers of the crowd served as a potent elixir, infusing him with energy. He had been accustomed to a life of adversity and felt like a natural antagonist in this new world. In his mind, he had never been the hero, an antagonist battling the odds from the day he was born. Mixing that sense of purpose with the cathartic release of sanctioned violence in the ring, Xavien sensed a burgeoning addiction. He couldn't wait for the impending Battle Royal, where he would face a new challenge.

Somewhere between the arena and the airport, he had managed to change into a plain white T-shirt his brother had purchased for him, along with black basketball shorts. On his feet were yellow Timberland boots he had discovered in his brother's closet, a perfect fit. While Officer Martin had arranged for black wrestling boots to be delivered to the arena, Xavien couldn't help but entertain the idea of wrestling in his Timberlands in his mind. How could he make that work?

Zander, his brother, pulled up in a maroon Toyota Camry. The car wasn't brand new, but it bore a few marks of character, likely stemming from Zander's less-than-stellar driving skills. In East Cleveland, any fancier car would have been an invitation to robbery, a fact Xavien understood instantly when he saw his brother behind the wheel.

Zander Marshall: "Bro!!! I watched your first match; you're a natural. I thought you were gonna murder that Jerry dude."

Xavien Marshall: "Ain't shit but business until he gives me a reason to make it personal."

Zander Marshall: "Shit, it's always personal with us, my boy."

Xavien Marshall: "Yeah, but I gotta leave that mentality in the ring, or I'm gonna end up back in Columbus at the Prison."

Zander pressed lightly on the gas pedal and began to accelerate.

Zander Marshall: "I heard about the gas station thing. If you would've called me, I would've ordered you food and sent it to the crib, bro."

Xavien Marshall: "How the fuck am I supposed to call you, dawg? The fuck you mean? And how the fuck did you hear about the shit? Is there some kind of god damn bulletin board I don't know about?"

Xavien was quick to anger, so Zander knew to choose his words carefully.

Zander Marshall: "You're right, that's my bad. I don't think about this shit. I got you though; check the backseat."

Xavien shifted his gaze towards the backseat, and there, nestled among the slightly worn upholstery, he discovered a finely crafted, emerald-green gift bag adorned with golden accents and a satin ribbon.

Xavien Marshall: "A gift bag? Am I 12?"

Zander Marshall: "Man, shut the fuck up with your bitching and let me do some nice shit for you like we are kids. We never had shit. Now we are going to, between my job and you wrestling, we are going to not live like some ghetto superstars from East Cleveland."

Xavien relaxed a bit, reflecting on how their upbringing had been anything but lavish. Zander didn't want to be ensnared in the gang life they grew up with; he craved success and happiness, and he wanted the same for Xavien.

Opening the gift bag, Xavien found an iPhone 14. It had been eight years since he last had an iPhone, and he had no recollection of how the technology worked. Yet, it was a reminder that he had left the confines of the penal system and returned to a world he had once taken for granted. He pressed the power button and watched as the device came to life, but confusion soon washed over him.

Xavien Marshall: "Man, how the fuck do I unlock this thing? There aren't any buttons."

Zander chuckled, recognizing the technological gap that had developed during Xavien's absence.

Zander Marshall: "The code is your birthday. Once you get in, set up Face ID."

Xavien Marshall: "Face ID?"

Zander Marshall: "It'll recognize your face and unlock."

As Xavien grappled with this unfamiliar technology, Zander addressed another matter.

Zander Marshall: "My number's already in it, as is Officer Martin's and one or two more."

Xavien Marshall: "One or two more? Who else? And are you cool with some East Side rent-a-cop?"

Zander smiled once more.

Zander Marshall: "Nah, but I told him I'd do my part to keep you straight. As for the other number, that's something we need to talk about."

Xavien's heart sank as a sense of foreboding loomed once more. He was tired of the impending sense of doom, but he felt it once again. If he could find his give a fuck switch, he would immediately turn it off. Permanently.

Zander Marshall: "Coach Jacobs wants to see you, bro."

Xavien Marshall: "No. Hell no. Fuck that motherfucker. He never did shit for me but tell me to play Cover 2. Then he was fucking gone when I needed him the most. He was supposed to be a Father Figure. He wasn't shit but a vulture. Flying around looking for a dude to win him games."

Zander sat in silence for a moment, choosing his words carefully before breaking it. So much for not giving a fuck, Xavien.

Zander Marshall: "He tried, X. He tried to talk to the District Attorney. He wrote letters. I know he did."

Xavien Marshall: "I don't wanna hear all that."

Zander Marshall: "You're going to be pissed, man, but I told him to come over. Let's hash this out. He was good to you, X. He's the only man who ever was. That’s how I knew about the gas station shit. You robbed his wife’s brother."


Chapter 3: A Reunion

Xavien's unwanted emotion weighed heavily on him as he contemplated the impending face-to-face encounter with the man he had once regarded as a father figure. Coach Jacobs had been there for him when he needed guidance, but Xavien felt that when he needed him the most, the coach had let him down. Xavien had never given much thought to the allure of the gang life; it was simply an expectation, given the friends he had grown up with. However, Coach Jacobs had made numerous attempts to steer Xavien toward a better path, efforts that had often fallen on deaf ears.

There were two sides to this tangled story. From Xavien's perspective, Coach Jacobs had exploited his talent until it had run dry, only to discard him when he could no longer deliver big plays on the football field. Coach Jacobs, on the other hand, believed he had done everything in his power to provide Xavien with an opportunity for a better life. He had tried to secure a future for Xavien beyond the rough East Side neighborhood they both knew so well. Life as a coach in a Cleveland public school was fraught with uncertainty, as star players often went missing, sometimes landing in jail or worse. When he had learned of Xavien's predicament, Coach Jacobs had been forced to walk a fine line. He had friends in the police force and couldn't condone any form of assault, but he had also tried to advocate for Xavien within the court system, to convince them that the young man deserved a second chance. No college would accept him, but Coach Jacobs was intent to find a better life for Xavien.

Shifting back to Xavien's perspective, he believed Coach Jacobs had only lobbied for probation so he could keep him on the football roster. He saw his coach as a self-centered figure, manipulating his players like pawns in pursuit of his personal ambition—the elusive dream of winning a State Championship for a Cleveland public school. It had never been done at the time.

As Zander entered the kitchen, iPhone in hand, Xavien settled onto the aged leather couch, tuning out the ESPN broadcast discussing Ohio State football. It was a dream he had once nurtured, only to see it fall through the fissures of his own failures. Xavien was growing weary of confronting his emotions, and freedom had unexpectedly come with a burden charged by emotion.

A slow, deliberate knock echoed through the room. Zander looked up from the refrigerator and headed toward the door, but Xavien was already on his feet. He opened the door to face the object of his scrutiny over the past eight years—the man who had been both a mentor and a source of contention.

Coach Jacobs: "Xavien, it is so good to see you. You look great."

Xavien remained silent, gesturing for Coach Jacobs to enter, his emotions hidden beneath a veneer of composure. Coach Jacobs, a short man with a bald head that gleamed as brightly as it had during Xavien's playing days, was dressed in the typical attire of a coach—a pair of crisply ironed khaki slacks and a green pullover featuring Euclid High School's bold "E" emblem embroidered on the front. His feet were clad in the same pristine, all-white Nike Air Max shoes he had always favored, replacing them whenever they showed even the faintest signs of wear. Coach Jacobs made his way into the living room, settling into a reclining chair tucked into the corner—an enclave Zander proudly claimed as “his chair.” It was here that he spent most of his leisure hours, watching whatever television offered and relishing his moments of respite from work.

Xavien couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger when Coach Jacobs chose the center of the room for his seat. It reinforced Xavien's belief that Coach's world revolved solely around himself. Players like Xavien were mere instruments in his grand scheme, moved strategically to achieve his ambitions of the long-sought State Championship.

Coach Jacobs: "Xavien, I know you feel a lot of resentment towards me. I get it. I know you were just a young man when you made the mistake that cost you almost 10 years of your life, and I know how angry it would make me in your situation. What I came here to say is that I'm sorry I couldn't do more. I'm sorry the court system was so hard on you. I'm sorry that they didn't take it easy on you. Hell, I'm sorry I didn't pony up out of my own pocket to buy you a real attorney myself. I never thought they'd slam you that hard, but the system takes care of their officers. I hope you understand why they do, too. I have so many regrets. You were one of the very best I ever had. Not just as a ballplayer, but as a kid. You got mixed up in the wrong shit. It happens all the time."

Xavien sat quietly. He found himself taking in more words than ever these days. Listening intently and then responding. He could’ve went off within 30 seconds of Coach Jacobs talking, but he wanted to hear what he had to say. He had loved Coach Jacobs. He didn’t choose to feel abandoned. He just did.

Xavien: "That means a lot to me, Coach. I'm sorry too."

Coach Jacobs perked up, surprised by the unexpected forgiveness from Xavien. It was an olive branch he hadn't anticipated extending—or receiving—so easily.

Xavien: "I'm sorry I blamed you, and I'm sorry about your brother-in-law. You know I get mad quick, and he talked crazy to me when I was really hungry. I could've hurt that man bad, Coach Jacobs, but I didn't. I wasn't trying to live the street life; I was trying to eat, man."

Coach Jacobs: "I know that, Xavien. He forgave you. He understood."

Xavien: "It was only my fault that I went where I did. I caused it."

Xavien found himself vacillating between taking responsibility for his actions and feeling like the universe had conspired against him. At this moment, he placed the blame solely on his shoulders.

Coach Jacobs: "It's very admirable that you admit that. I think it's fair to admit that the lifestyle here on the East Side didn't do you any favors. But, hey, Officer Martin is a hell of a guy. I saw your first wrestling match. You put on a hell of a performance, man!"

In an instant, a simmering anger ignited within Xavien. The logic that had guided his words moments earlier vanished. He felt betrayed, as if Coach Jacobs had reentered his life solely because he had seen Xavien succeed once more. The sense of abandonment and deception welled up, his eyebrows lowered in an instant as a pit of emotional fire engulfed the inner workings of his nervous system, and he exploded.

Xavien: "So that's what the fuck it is, bro? You saw me doing big things again, and now here you are. Right back. You never called me. You never sent a letter. Now I'm about to be a TV star, and you want to be in my living room. You want to be Father Figure of the Year again. Fuck you, Coach Jacobs. You are who I thought you were."

Zander rushed into the room, positioning himself between Xavien and Coach Jacobs, bracing for any sudden movement that might escalate the situation further.

Coach Jacobs: "Xavien, no, why would yo-"

Xavien: "Shut the fuck up, dawg. Get the fuck out and don't fucking talk to me ever again, bro. Never again do I want to see your bitch ass. You talk about the streets and shit; you don't know a fucking thing about what I've been through. Fuck you, bro! Fuck you!"

Xavien's body trembled with rage as he hurled a torrent of vitriolic words at his former coach. Coach Jacobs, with a tear silently tracing its path down his cheek, retreated from the room, his exit marked by the weight of unresolved emotions and the chasm that had opened between mentor and protege.

Chapter 4: Sell Yourself

After the fit of rampage he had experienced, Xavien found himself retreating to the confines of his bedroom. The room held an old dresser resting silently in the corner, and Xavien laid on his back on a modest mattress, unadorned by the luxury of a bedframe. As he lay there, the turbulent emotions from his encounter with Coach Jacobs swirled within him. He marveled at how quickly the man had validated every negative perception he held of him. The moment Xavien extended forgiveness; Coach Jacobs revealed his true intentions – a desire to hitch his wagon to Xavien's rising star once more. When Xavien was a vulnerable 17-year-old in desperate need of his mentor, both physically and emotionally, Coach Jacobs was conspicuously absent. Now, with Xavien on the cusp of success, Coach Jacobs attempted to reintegrate himself into his life.

Conscious of the need to preserve his fragile relationship with his last remaining family member, Zander, Xavien opted to calm himself and suppress the torrent of thoughts that had consumed him since his return home. He lay on the mattress, staring at the ceiling, lost in contemplation.

Amidst the sea of racing thoughts, Xavien's phone suddenly buzzed beside him. It took him a moment to register the source of the vibrations, and he lifted the device to his face. The caller ID read "OFFICER MARTIN," with "INCOMING CALL" prominently displayed. He swiped the icon to answer, interrupting his parole officer before he could utter a word.

Xavien: "I don’t know what that fraud told you, man, but he’s lying. I didn’t touch that motherfucker, Martin. I swear.”

Officer Martin: "Xavien, what are you talking about?"

Xavien fell silent, he never knew what to say anymore.

Xavien: "Coach Jacobs was over here, we had it out. Just an argument though. I didn’t touch him; my brother will testify."

Officer Martin: "Xavien, if you had physically assaulted Coach Jacobs he would’ve called me immediately. What caused the disagreement?"

Xavien: "He’s a snake, man. I don’t wanna talk about him ever again. I don’t like him. I won’t ever like him."

Officer Martin listened intently, detecting the undertones of childlike sadness in Xavien’s voice. The initial anger had morphed into a sense of betrayal, a shift that surprised him. How could one mature so rapidly during their prison stint, yet remain emotionally unchanged?

Officer Martin: "I’m not concerned about that. You don’t have to have a relationship with him. I’m calling because I need you to do a promo for your Battle Royal."

Xavien: "A promo?"

Officer Martin: "Yes, you need to talk some trash, really sell yourself to the fans. Make them want to see you lose, drum up that anticipation. Convince them to buy tickets just to witness your defeat. Use your phone, take a video, and I’ll get it out there. Sell yourself, Xavien. Be you, cranked up to 10."

Xavien agreed to the task, ending the call with mixed feelings about this part of his new profession. Selling himself to the public? Making fans crave his downfall? He cared little for others' opinions, and the idea of manufacturing animosity toward himself was foreign. He decided he would play the villain, drawing crowds to the arena with the promise of his failure, only to revel in their disdain when he emerged victorious. It was time to become a supervillain,.

Descending the stairs with frustration etched on his face, Xavien sought his brother's assistance. Zander looked up from his chair but remained silent, inviting Xavien to speak first.

Xavien: "I need help with something for work."

Zander: "What’s up?"

Xavien: "I need you to record a video of me talking. Outside. On the street."

Zander: "Talking?"

Xavien: "Yeah, man, just do it."

The two of them ventured outside into the fading light of the East Cleveland evening.

Chapter 5: The Beginning

Xavien positioned himself against the backdrop of the gas station's illuminated lights and the slightly dilapidated homes, casting a glow that accentuated his presence. The city rested in the distance. Slowly, he slipped his white t-shirt over his head. With a subtle neck crack, he steeled himself for the task at hand. He aimed to speak with an intensity of emotion that could only be described as pure, unfiltered, and unapologetically himself cranked up to 10. Reflecting on the levels of emotion he had experienced in the recent past – the gas station robbery, the heated confrontation with Coach Jacobs – what level was he on then? He had to crank it up higher than that. Excellence in every facet of his newfound career was his goal, and now, he was ready to entice the audience, it was time to sell himself.

Xavien: Last week at Fallout, everybody seemed to predict that Wild Jerry was going to roll into town and squash the new guy and go home. They seemed to predict that I was just a big body who wasn’t a factor in the FWA. How quickly they found out that I am THE most dangerous man in the entire wrestling business. I know exactly the criticisms of me already. I’m just an ex-convict doing this shit to make a paycheck. I’m just doing this wrestling gig so I can beat the hell out of people without fear of going back to the Ohio State Penitentiary. And to those of you who level those criticisms I say… you are right. You are absolutely correct but you see… I don’t care about your critique. I don’t care about your criticisms. I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t want you to cheer me. I am everything you fear. When you get into your car late at night and see the headlights behind you following just a bit too closely, that is me. When you notice that man in the shadows as you go into the restaurant and check to see if he’s still lurking as you leave, that is me. I am what you fear because I will do whatever it takes to survive. Your livelihoods, your safety, your well being, those things mean nothing to me. I live in a world where the only person who has ever cared about Xavien Marshall… is Xavien Marshall. Not only have I had to fight at every level of my life to preserve myself, I’ve learned that there is no line. There is no too far. I have to do whatever it takes in this world to make it. Then, I’m told that I have to fight in a Battle Royal match. It’ll be every man for himself inside the ring and only two men will make it out for a chance to face each other for the Gunfight One Ring. 15 men inside a square fighting for their lives? EVERY DAY FOR THE LAST 8 YEARS THAT’S BEEN MY REALITY. 8 years I’ve been surrounded by men who will cut my throat for a bag of chips, and I’m supposed to be intimidated by a bunch of wrestlers? I’m not intimidated by that scenario, no, I feel at home. Because the only way to get me over that top rope is to pick up my corpse and throw it over. In that ring, I will do what I’ve done for my entire life. From the streets of East Cleveland at 13 years old to the prison yard at 18, my life has been about one thing… survival. And at Lights Out, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. The only question I have is who will survive with me, because when Winter Wasteland begins, that individual will be in an exhibition of survival... one on one.,.. against me. So when it comes to pro wrestling, I may not have a lot of experience... But when it comes to making it out alive, it’s all I’ve ever known.

As Xavien averts his gaze from the camera, Zander concludes the video. His wide-eyed astonishment reflects his disbelief at the eloquent words that had effortlessly poured from Xavien's mouth.

Zander: That… was incredible. How in the hell did you come up with that, in one take, on the fly?

Xavien: That’s not self-promotion, Zander, that’s a fuckin' origin story.​

 

[Rosie]

Triple Threat Match: North American Championship Number One Contender's Match:​

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Spoiler: Click Katsu to advance

Plain Text

Spoiler

The night sky begins to cover Osaka and the bright lights of the metropolis come alive. A city which has a reputation for being the financial center of all of Japan, a city home of big business, top tier workers, a level of multiculturalism not seen in much of Japan, but most importantly-

One woman.

Lying down on her bed in her apartment is a woman who is unrecognisable to the greater public for one reason.

She is without her mask.

The only connecting features people can see from her and her masked persona is that she is Japanese and her long dark hair has its usual silver tips.

The woman known as Katsu has the light on in her bedroom and lies back on her bed. Her room is somewhat cramped, given the tighter nature of living quarters in Japan, but still somewhat comfortable, neatly organised. Though, given that she spends a lot of time away from home, she does not have much of a chance to get it in a mess. On her shelves are various figures from various anime and gaming franchises. Notably a Gengar plush, along with a Vulpix, two Pokemon, and an action figure of her. The first she ever got. It is her wearing her gear from Carnal Contendership 2023 in which she introduced the world to her true masked persona, one which she has grown a strong connection with to the point where her old one, Vampyra, is unrecognisable to her.

This is a rare night in which she has off. No travel, no matches between one of two promotions, one of which she’s essentially working double duty. This includes not just a championship match with her close friends, but a chance to fight for FWA’s second greatest prize, the North American Championship. Despite its regional designation, the championship appeals to the Japanese star. It would be a moment of validation for her and as a way to silence naysayers of her, the current champion included.

Her matches loom on her mind as she holds her Nintendo Switch in her hands as she plays through the recent Pokemon game and its new DLC. In some ways, the three-way match should not be as stressful to her. Given her recent work, along with her opponents, there is no doubt that the three of them will find themselves in the championship hunt eventually, the main reason for the match.

To decide who’s first.

And with each person’s pride, they don’t want to wait.

Her phone vibrates and there is an email notification. The name of the sender, in Japanese, translates to “Dr. Nakamura,” her physician. She opens the email and it is translated as follows.

Dear Miss Sasaki, I am glad we were able to have your appointment today. It was great to see how you have been improving. I am glad you are following up on regular therapy sessions with Dr. Looney to help manage your anxiety. It has helped your wrestling career also. As requested, I have filled your prescription with your pharmacy and we are good to move you back to 30mg of Citalopram. You may be able to pick it up tomorrow morning. If you are having side-effects, message myself or Dr. Looney, whoever is more convenient, and we will adjust accordingly. One final thing, in terms of your lack of sleep, this is likely due to your schedule. Your travel has likely made it difficult to adjust. I also hear you have been having several multi-match nights. While I am happy to see you progress in your career, I do urge caution as overworking yourself like that can result in serious injury or worse, even at your age. If you require time off from either wrestling company, then do not hesitate to call us. Until then, try to work on your life-work balance. I have seen many people in less physically demanding fields burnout hard because of a mentality to always overwork themselves. Something to consider. Take care, Dr. Nakamura.

Reading through her doctor’s email again, his words ring true to her. She’s essentially triple-booked for wrestling commitments. FWA’s Trios division, FWA’s singles division, and her time in between FWA bookings for CJW. Maybe she’s due for a night to escape? Saving then turning off her game, she gets up to her closet and rummages through. She pulls out some clothes and goes to the bathroom to change.

Sitting in the living room is Cali Hayama. Her friend and, when she’s in Japan, often an unofficial roommate. She has a pillow and blanket on her couch and lies back. She takes a “selfie” showing a peace sign and sticking her tongue out. The Canadian hears the water run in the bathroom and some things moving around, being opened. She raises a small eyebrow before she sends the picture off to a friend.

In the bathroom, Katsu has changed into a blue dress. It goes down to about knee height, cute, but not over the top revealing. The straps of the dress cross to opposite shoulders and around her waist is a belt. She brushes her hair and ties it up in a ponytail, her bangs hanging over her forehead. In a rare moment, she applies some make-up. Given how often she wears her masks, it is rare for her to go beyond a lipstick colour to match her attire worn.

But tonight it isn’t about Katsu.

She takes a long look in the mirror. She sees herself dolled up for the first time really in, forever. Not even for some photoshoot where she has her mask on still. This time, it’s for her. There’s a slight grin on her face. There’s warmth in her brown eyes. This is the therapy she needs. A night where she isn’t Katsu. A night-

Where she’s just Katsuki Sasaki.

Going back into her room, she grabs her purse and fills it with a few important belongings. Wallet, ID, phone. Entering her living room, Cali looks up to see her friend dressed up. She whistles.

“Look who has made herself all fancy.” She teases her friend in Japanese. Katsuki chuckles as Cali compliments her. “You look great. What’s the occasion?”

“Well, seeing that I finally have a night off, I’m going out.” Katsuki adjusts her purse.

“Never took you to be such a social butterfly.” Cali says with some playful sarcasm. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“We have two matches this weekend and then I have to do two matches in one night in FWA next weekend.” She sighs. “I think I earned a night to relax a little.”

“Not saying you’re wrong, but I don’t read you as much of a club girl.” Cali Hayama sits up on the coach, folding her hands behind her head.

“Tonight I will be.” Katsuki looks at her friend. “Do you want to come?”

Cali mulls over an answer. She hums. “Not sure. I was planning on doing a Starfield stream tonight.”

“But it will be early in the morning in America. I doubt you’ll get many viewers.” Katsuki mentions a flaw in her friend’s plan. Cali shrugs.

“Maybe, but I do have some decent views in Japan and Oceanica. I’m sure there will be some. Plus I always upload the highlights to YouTube so it won’t be in for nothing. If you need me, message me. I’ll end the stream and head over.”

“Good. I hope you enjoy it. I will be heading to the Ghost Ultra Lounge. If you change your mind.”

“Stay safe, have fun.” Cali nods and her friend heads towards the door.

---

A short while later, the club doors of Ghost open up and Katsuki gets her ID checked and enters the club. It is somewhat small in size. The dim but colourful lights dance around the room as the DJ plays music to a crowd of patrons on the dance floor with varying degrees of sobriety. There’s some non-Japanese patrons as well, with it being one of the more tourist-safe spaces in Osaka. Over the bar are lights spelling out the name of the bar. In the crowd there are various booths with some patrons renting them out for them and their friends, coworkers, elsewise. Katsuki looks around the club, keeping her purse near her for protection. Even with there being some more honour in Japanese society, theft or worse is still an option.

Oddly enough, without her mask, there is less attention to her than normal. No fans recognize her as that “masked girl wrestling in America.” There are no kitsune ears to attract the eye. She’s able to lay down low for a bit in comparison. Anonymous.

Except, in a nightclub like this, an alone young woman is an attractive prospect for some eyes. As Katsuki moves through the crowd, she feels a hand or two get close to her, one of which touching her back, another lower. She can’t tell if it is accidental or intentional, but the dance floor is packed. So, for now, she gives the person the benefit of a doubt.

Pulling her phone and wallet out of her purse, she keeps them both close as she gets to the bar at last. A bartender greets her, motioning that they will be with her in a moment. Katsuki grabs a cocktail menu and looks through as she catches the eye of another patron.

The Japanese male looks to be in his late 20’s, early 30’s. He has a mustache on him and a top hat, looking more like an American rockstar. His grey shirt has its top two buttons undone. Eyes are slightly glazed over already, appearing as if he’s already at some level of intoxication. There is a charismatic grin on his face as if he’s a true showman.

“Now that girl is something special…” He says looking at the wrestler. “I guess I know who I’ll be coming home with tonight.”

The bartender walks over to Katsuki. She has a dress on and bows slightly at Katsuki. She addresses her.

“Hello miss. What can I make for you tonight?”

Looking through the menu, Katsuki has a drink picked out.

“I would love the Fuzzy Navel. Something sweet and fun to start the night.”

She smiles at the bartender. She nods and turns to grab some peach schnapps to start the drink.

“That one is on me.”

A voice is heard. It’s the man in the top hat. He pulls out yen from his wallet and places it on the bar. The bartender accepts the purchase and works on the cocktail. Katsuki gives a look over to the mysterious gentleman in the top hat. There is something off putting about him. A man with an ulterior motive. He leans on the bar next to her.

“I have not seen a beautiful face like yours around here.”

He says to her as the bartender hands Katsuki her drink. The drink is in a tall glass and is a vibrant orange with an orange garnish on top. She covers it and moves it away from the man. Not taking any chances. She tries to keep polite but low-key.

“I heard this was a good place to cut loose.”

“That’s all because of me.” The stranger excitedly says. “I’m all about the loose and fast life. There was this one time-”

Katsuki gives a polite nod before taking a sip of her drink. The sweet fruits tough her lips with a light sting of alcohol. She’s going to need a lot of booze to tolerate a man like this. Half of what he says isn’t even registering with her.

“-And long story short there. I took a whole lot of shrooms and booze and passed out in the bathroom. Security guard had to wake me up at 4am in my own puke. It was crazy!” He pats the table and looks at the bartender. “Right, girl?”

The bartender rolls her eyes and turns around, continuing to work.

“I can imagine it was quite a wild ride…” Katsuki mutters, pretending to care.

“I’m a legend here.” He tips his hat. “Haven’t been here in over a year after a little… incident. It was a shame because I couldn’t defend my title of sexiest dancer here.”

She raises an eyebrow. A very peculiar title to claim to have. Katsuki takes an even larger gulp of her drink.

“So what brings a pretty girl like you all alone?” The man in the top hat reaches over to try and touch Katsuki in her chin. She gently pushes his hand down, he’s making her incredibly uncomfortable.

“I uh, have a night off work. Yes. That, and I have not had much time off, so I decided to go out to celebrate with some music and drinks. Yes. Take it easy.”

“Who needs to take things easy?” He slaps his hand on the bar. “We should party! Then you can come back to my place and I can put on a show for you.”

Katsuki practically shudders at the thought of that. She may be young, but she is far more reserved than that and safe to say-

The guy isn’t her type.

“Come on, bartender, give us a couple of shots. Something strong!”

She shakes her head immediately.

“None for me. I haven’t even finished my first drink yet.” She sips on her fuzzy navel.

“Then I’ll take both.” He grabs both shot glasses full of Vodka and he gulps both of them down. The strong liquor stings his throat.

“Well, uh, I thank you for the drink.” She attempts to be polite. “But I am just waiting for my boyfriend-” She lies.

The drunken smile on the man’s face drops. He tries to compose himself.

“Well, then I hope he treats you right. Because if you’re tired of him…” He leans in, whispering in Katsuki’s ear. “I can give you a ride you’ll never ever forget.”

Katsuki shudders as the drunken man in the top hat walks off, likely off to his next “victim” in the bar. She sighs. So much for being able to keep on the down low for the night. She forgot the one rule for single women. You go into a nightclub alone, you’re a target. The bartender who served her goes over and asks her.

“Let me guess, you’re actually single?”

Katsuki nods, giving a small chuckle.

“You know. I’m sure he’ll figure it out sooner or later, or drink enough to forget.”

“Or not care.” The female bartender looks at her. “If you want, I will ask security and other bartenders to keep an eye out tonight. Just to protect you. I like working here but there are men who act inappropriately.”

Katsuki nods. “It will be appreciated.”

The wrestler chugs the rest of her drink. The alcohol might be needed tonight to be able to tolerate some of these people here.

“If you need me, I’ll be on the dance-floor.”

The wrestler moves to the dance floor where there’s a decent crowd. She moves closer to some fellow female guests, likely as a way to keep herself away from any more creeps. Katsuki does not seem like much of a dancer, though with a hint of alcohol in her system and a bit of time to get comfortable, she begins to loosen up. Her worries, for the moment at least, disappear.

The bartender gives a look over to the dance floor to see her comfortable and safe, so she turns back to clean several glasses. A male heads behind the bar. He’s got a vest on with a dress shirt. His name is written in kanji on his nametag. Clearly a co-worker. She sighs.

“Late again, Kenzo?”

Her co-worker, Kenzo, has short dark hair. He appears winded, as if he ran here as fast as he could.

“My other commitment ran long.” Kenzo grabs some water and sips it before washing his hands, practicing bar safety. “I told you, the boss said if I am late with my other job to call, which I did.”

“What is so important about this other job?” She asks and the gentleman does not give her a straight answer.

“If you want to know, you can talk to him.”

“Fine.” She moves on. “It would have been nice to have you here for the opening.” The bartender looks over at the crowd on the dance floor. “Already told security to keep an eye out for anyone who bothers the other guests, especially this new girl.”

Kenzo looks to the crowd and sees where his coworker is looking. Katsuki. “The girl in the blue dress? With the silver tips in her hair?”

“That is her.”

Kenzo looks off at her for a few moments. He doesn’t say a word but he appears to get quickly lost in thought. His coworker snaps him out.

“Kenzo, I also need you to refill the fruits. We’re running low.”

He shakes his hand and snaps back to reality. “On it.”

On the dance floor, a high energy song begins to play and everyone hops and moves around to the beat. The floor begins to get somewhat crowded as the music ramps up and the lights dance around the club. Katsuki accidentally bumps into another woman who nearly falls over. She’s quick to apologize, but it is thankfully accepted. The girl leaves the dancefloor and she goes over-

To a booth.

Seated in the booth is a mix of men and women, all Japanese, and they all are centered around one guy. He’s got a couple of piercings in his ear, spiked and wild hair. He has no shirt on with his abs oiled up, exposed from an open vest that has sparkles. Tight pants. The girl walks over and kisses him before whispering in his ear. He takes a look at the dance floor where Katsuki is. He has a slight smirk on his face, nodding. He goes over to a male member of his entourage and whispers in his ear, giving him a peck on the cheek. Clearly this man is pretty open in regards to his relationships. His male companion walks over to the bar and hands them some money. He points to Katsuki before going back to his crew.

Katsuki heads back towards the bar after the song is over. She wipes some sweat from her forehead. You need strong endurance in wrestling, but in a small club on a dance-floor, you work up quite a sweat. She gets to the bat where Kenzo greets her this time.

“Hello, miss. How can I help you?”

“I could use another drink. How about cider?” Katsuki smiles.

“I will get on it. That will be-”

Kenzo’s coworker interrupts.

“Free. Someone paid for your next drink.”

“Same guy?”

Katsuki asks and she shakes her head, pointing to the group of people at the booth. The guy at the center of it, a very eccentric man, has a slight smirk, tipping his drink, a glass of sex on the beach.

“Why am I getting so much attention?” She mutters to herself. “You think I’d get more attention when I have a colourful mask, but no… So much for disappearing.”

Kenzo places her glass of apple cider with a stick of cinnamon in it, a very fall drink. She decides to be polite, potentially nipping this in the butt before it gets too far. She gives a warm smile, trying to be polite, and she walks over to them.

“Hello. I was told one of you got me this drink. I want to say thank you.”

The man in the middle gives a confident smile.

“I always aim to please.” He says smoothly. There’s an intangible charm to him. “One of my dear ladies here saw you were alone, so we decided to extend our hand to your pretty hand.”

Even through a different language, his voice is like smooth butter. Katsuki covers her mouth before taking a sip. There is a sense of charm to him.

“Yes, I am alone right now. Just want a night to escape.”

“Escape. I can sense that. You like adventure…” He looks to the side. “A free spirit on her way to forget the hardship of the world. A need to release her stress and become on cloud nine.”

The man, in comparison to the previous, appears to be smoother and more charming compared to the raw energy from the previous suitor. A way with his words, but yet still some absurdity to him.

“That sounds almost right…” Katsuki clarifies. “I am here to take it easy, but I think I know what you are referring to.”

“Someone is a good judge of intentions.” He has a smirk on his face. “What can I say? I preach love and the expression of it. But if you are looking for a nice… fun night out. Then I’m sure any of us would love to see what you got.”

Katsuki looks around at the collection of men and women around him. All seem to be affectionate towards one another, regardless of gender. Something which does not seem to appeal to her. Though with the vibes of him, there’s one obvious conclusion.

“Are you a pimp?” She asks. The group exchange glances before giving a hearty laugh. Katsuki sips on her cider.

“Nonsense, dear. You might have me confused with someone else from a different life.” And the man gives a knowing wink. “These lovely people are my partners, and my partner’s partners. We’re people who believe love should have no borders.”

He stretches his arms out, wrapping around the shoulders of one male and one female.

“We believe life is short, so to limit yourself to just one thing is a detriment. We explore. We test ourselves. We feel that it is the only way to learn about who you are. Accept who you are. And sometimes, getting close to someone you care about, experiencing them up close and personal… Is the way to do so. You feel what I’m saying?”

Katsuki examines the group. She asks an important question.

“So are you all gay, or rather bisexual?”

“We go beyond labels. But you can say we all are part of our own community within that community. Why? Are there any issues?”

He asks her. He likely has faced criticism for his lifestyle many times before.

“No. There is not.” Katsuki stutters a bit, taking a sip of her drink before explaining. “Let’s just say I have a friend who is part of that community. When she told me it opened my eyes a bit. I learned a lot from her and me accepting her has made her happier. Though I guess I have a lot to learn since I think I have only seen people like you one other time, but never talked to them. But I know hate will not get me there or do any of us good.”

“Then, my friend, I think you have a step further than most. A willingness to learn.” He winks. There is some charm to him.

“-But I also know it is not for me. Out of anything I need to learn about myself, that is not one of them. So thank you for the drink. But you will not get that from me.”

The crew looks at each other, exchanging glances. They clearly read this girl wrong, but she seems to have earned a place in their good book. They all nod and smile.

“Then consider that settled. We believe in consent. Consider yourself an ally of us.” He raises his martini glass and Katsuki gently clangs her glass of cider against it. “We may get you another drink tonight as a thank you for being kind. You earned it. But of course, if you change your mind, I’m sure one of us guys will know how to treat a distinguished young lady like yourself right.”

There is a small twinkle in his eyes. Katsuki gives a friendly but nervous laugh. “I doubt that. But thank you.” She gives a small bow before returning to the bar area.

Out of the corner of the bar, the man in the top hat, after striking out with another woman, catches the crew and Katsuki clanging glassware and laughing. He has resentment in his eyes. How dare this guy get farther than he did with her? He goes back to his drink, letting his emotions fester.

“You seem popular tonight.”

The male bartender says to Katsuki as she gets near the bar with her drink. She drinks her cider and looks around at the two individuals who she has received the attention of tonight.

“It is strange.” She comments. “I thought tonight I could be somewhat invisible and just enjoy myself. I guess I was wrong.”

“Why would you say that?” Kenzo engages in some casual conversation while he works on some drinks for people at booths. He seems rather capable of balancing the two.

“Just, I don’t usually attract attention, not unless I uh-” She stops herself. Even to a total stranger, she does not feel comfortable revealing her profession. “Do something special.”

“Special?” He questions the choice of words as he grabs some bourbon from the shelves. Katsuki doesn’t elaborate on what she means, so he decides to change the topic.

“So why are you here then? I don’t usually expect a single woman to come here, assuming you are.” He asks.

“This is the first night off I have had in a while.”

There is something trusting of the bartender. No dark ulterior motive, or a desire just to treat her as an object. It is just a guy making conversation while his shift goes on. It’s something that many service professionals become well-versed in. Have a conversation with the customer while doing your work, night goes on faster. Making a connection with a customer leads to repeat visits, larger tips. So, maybe it is that, maybe it is also some of the alcohol in her system, but she feels a bit more comfortable to open up. Though, she still needs to be careful and not be too specific.

“In my line of work I travel a lot. I am lucky to be home for one or two days every two weeks.”

“So you get to see the world.” He chimes in as he stirs several drinks together, all Old Fashioneds. “That sounds exciting. I do hope to travel soon too.”

“That is honestly the most exciting part of my work. Even if it is to different places in Japan, I see a lot. But I have been to almost every continent in the past year. It has been something to escape my bubble and see what the world has to offer.”

“But has it worn you down?” Kenzo places the drinks on a tray as a server comes over to pick it up. He goes to look at his next ticket, but keeps listening.

“Well, yes. Eventually your body and mind can only take so much travel. I had one mental breakdown early this year where I needed a couple months off.”

“They do that?” Kenzo quips. “Considering how many overworked office workers I see come in here and just drink their problems away rather than take time off.”

Katsuki sighs. She mutters to herself. “Which was why I never wanted to work the same careers as my parents…” She clarifies. “International company so to speak. Different values.”

“That makes some sense. So I imagine there is also a difference in culture.”

“Just sometimes I feel that I need to act differently outside of those I am close with.”

“Like putting on a mask-”

Katsuki freezes at the comment. She slowly takes another sip of her drink.

“Metaphorically.”

“-I suppose that is correct.”

Meanwhile, the man in the top hat looks at the man with the vest. The burn of whisky is on his tongue. He decides to confront the man who, in his mind, is keeping him from getting to second base. Heading over to the group, he slightly slurs his words as he talks.

“So what’s up with you getting between me and my girl?”

He raises his voice slightly, though Katsuki at the bar doesn’t pick it up due to the music in the club. She continues with her conversation between her and the bartender. The man with the vest chuckles.

“Dear, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“The girl in blue with the silver in her hair.” He specifies. “She’s mine tonight.”

“I don’t know if she’s yours.” He sips on his martini. “Considering I don’t think you even know her name.”

“This is my first night here in over a year, I was the coolest man around!” The top hat man gets rather defensive. “My tales here are legendary, how I could do no wrong and any girl… Like that. Like a switch.” He snaps his fingers. “Would be mine. I don’t take no.”

“Sounds like someone here has some repressed issues.” There is a coy smile from the man with many partners. “I would offer to help you release it, or one of my lovely partners, but I don’t think you would be our type.”

“You… You…” The drunk in the hat is seething at the response from him. He’s thinking of some insult to say, something very likely to be not politically correct, but seeing that he is out-numbered here, he goes against it.

“Tell me man, what’s your obsession?” He asks the man who has confronted him.

“I want to show I still got it. When you’re out of the game for a while, you need to you’re still the showman. So, when I’m told no, I get a little antsy.”

“Why don’t you move on then?” He asks. “It doesn’t do you good to dwell on the past. Maybe you can leave it to someone…” The man adjusts his vest. “Younger, fresher. Instead settle down and move on to another fish.”

“There’s no way she will be with a…”

Before the man in the hat can say something hateful, the man in the vest stands up. He’s surprisingly built well. Slim, but mostly muscle. So he chooses his words carefully.

“-Person like you.”

The words don’t seem to affect the man in the vest. He grins. “Babe, I’m all about letting people be authentic. I let them be true. If she’s not interested, so be it. But I have no issue with her having a whole new experience. As for you, maybe it is time for you to get your motor running elsewhere.”

There is a wink from the man as two of his partners, a male and a female, get up and lean on him. The man in the top hat swallows the rest of his drink. Part of him wants to deck him right now. But, even with his drunken state, a part of him knows it is best to stay out.

“You win this round, pretty boy.” He slurs his words. “But I’ll get my due. Whether it be her, or someone even prettier. Just watch.”

He stumbles away as the man in the vest kisses both his partners on the forehead and looks over at Katsuki at the bar. She’s still talking with the bartender. Something seems to be hitting off with them. Katsuki, with her drink mostly done, is feeling a touch looser, less on edge. Kenzo also seems to be enjoying her company.

“-And that was the first time we ever had to call the police here. So those people have nothing on them.”

The bartender finishes what appears to be an interesting work story as Katsuki laughs, covering her mouth.

“-I am thankful I never worked at a bar. That sounds like torture.”

“Sadly that is the nature of this work sometimes. You have to deal with unpleasant people with nice customers. But I got a nice raise for handling it.”

“Well deserved.” She smiles at Kenzo. Something runs through the back of her mind again. Wrestling enters the brain.

“Safe to say I have dealt with some interesting people for work. Some pleasant but a bit funny, some total… assholes.” She drops a rare bit of vulgar language. Likely the alcohol. “But considering I have a chance to be ch-”

She stops herself, quickly correcting. “-To be promoted to two positions. Yes, that. One is with a team I always work with, but what is really concerning me is a single position where I am competing against two others.”

“Climbing the ladder?” Kenzo asks and Katsuki nods.

“You can say that. But I have some hard competition so to speak. One person has…”

She struggles to think of how she can explain it to the bartender without revealing the fact she wrestles.

“Has held the position before and after some time out of the company he wants to return to that position. The other is pretty new. He seems to be presenting something… unique compared to what is normal. But I can’t really underestimate him. Then there’s me…”

She points to her face. “That one Japanese girl in a company with few people like me. Not to say there has never been people like me there, but I guess I am always compared to them, and not many really get that far.”

Stopping the drink he is making, Kenzo thinks.

“So you are a woman from another country fighting for a promotion? Sounds challenging.”

“It is.”

Katsuki finishes her drink. “Can I have a shot please?” She reaches into her wallet and pulls out some money. “This one I will pay for. Your pick, keep the change.”

She hands the money to Kenzo who grabs a bottle from the shelf.

“Rum?”

“That works.”

Katsuki hands him the money as he pours some rum into a shot glass. Katsuki quickly downs the shot and feels a warm sensation run through her.

“Where was I?” She has to think back, the alcohol starting to affect her system. “Yes, promotion. I guess I am concerned that people will think I’m not… good enough. I have done a lot to get in my position. I've even helped train some hopefuls. But I don’t think there has been anyone like me in that spot before and I, uhh…”

She shakes her head. That shot hit her harder than expected.

“You’re worried about being passed up?” Kenzo asks her.

“Yes. That.”

The bartender grabs the ingredients of his cocktail and begins to shake it. He offers some words of encouragement.

“I have a question, do you work hard?”

“Yes.” Katsuki scratches her face. Her cheek is a hint numb. She’s definitely getting towards the intoxicated stage.

“Are you good at your job?” He asks another question.

There is a hint of hesitation, but she answers.

“Yes. I have done it for almost seven years now.”

“If you work hard and are good at your job, and have done it for some time, then you likely have earned a promotion. Why would it matter what they do?”

The words of encouragement from Kenzo perk her up slightly.

“And personally speaking, just by talking to you here, you seem young, smart… pretty.”

That word slips from his mouth and he stops himself a second. Katsuki does hear the compliment and maybe it is the fact he did it so innocently, or the drinks talking, but it does make her feel… good? She blushes slightly. Kenzo gets himself back on track.

“-But your company would be lucky to have someone like you. Don’t worry about them.”

“Thank you… It means a lot.”

Katsuki hides her face trying to keep reaction hidden as butterflies dance in her stomach.

The man in the vest gets the attention of a server, looking at Katsuki, he decides that now’s the time to give her a ‘thank you’ cocktail. He whispers something to her, an order, and points to Katsuki. She nods and writes it down, taking the money and goes over to add it to the queue of drinks for Kenzo.

Seeing this, the man in the top hat instantly knows what is up and is not going to be one-upped by someone. He gets the attention of another server and tells her an order for Katsuki. She hands it off to Kenzo’s other bartender who works through it immediately.

“Say, you talk a lot about your job, and you seem young but have done it a long time… what is it, if I can ask?” Kenzo’s curiosity peaks after the talk. Katsuki does not answer right away. She’s thinking of a lie, one which would make sense she’s worked since high school AND does internationally that isn’t wrestling. Thankfully for her, she doesn’t need to give an answer as a familiar voice echoes out in English.

“There you are!”

Katsuki turns to see Cali Hayama making her way into the bar. She has a black dress on, something which seems less club attire and more casual, likely the best she could find. She gives a grin and Katsuki gives her friend a hug, saying in English.

“I didn’t think you would come!”

“I decided to forget the stream. Kind of felt like having a drink.” She smiles.

“This is a friend of yours?” Kenzo turns around, saying in Japanese. Cali understands and instantly switches her language.

“Yes, I am a good friend of hers.”

Kenzo hums. “Ah, you speak Japanese also, though I can tell you have a bit of an accent with it. Still good. Guessing English is your first language?”

“She’s American.” Katsuki quickly says, lying.

“I’m what?” Cali stutters in English. There is no greater insult to a Canadian than calling them American. Katsuki lightly bumps her friend’s arm, getting her to play along.

“Yes. Japanese-American.” She stutters.

Kenzo turns around and grabs a ticket for another drink. He looks at Cali. Her silver hair, athletic frame and… something in his mind clicks. He’s seen her before.

“Say, are you on Television?”

Cali and Katsuki both freeze. Cali understands how important it is to her friend to keep some level of anonymity in regards to her masked persona. The Canadian plays dumb.

“No. I have not been on television. Why would you say that?”

“I guess the silver hair look is striking. I do not see others with it often. So it may remind me of someone.” He quickly glances over at Katsuki and notices the silver dyed tips

of her hair. He looks back at Cali and thinks to himself “Could it be?” but he dismisses the thought for now.

The other bartender finishes a drink and walks over to Katsuki.

“Here you go. Paid for by someone else… Again.”

Looking at the cocktail, it is a Sex on the Beach. A reddish-orange with a fruit garnish. With a drink with that kind of name, it is pretty clear who bought it. Katsuki glances over to the man in the top-hat. He winks, pointing to himself, Katsuki, and the cocktail. Basically saying “You, me, sex.” Katsuki rolls her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Cali instantly sees something up with her friend. “Normally someone buying your drinks is good.”

“Just… This guy has been trying to get with me all night and he won’t get the message. He even looks almost a decade older than me, it is creepy.”

“Gross. If he is that sex starved, I’m sure there's places he can pay for it…” Cali sighs and rolls her eyes. “Good tip Katsuki, if you want to lay low one night and be unseen, being a single young lady alone in a nightclub is not a good idea.”

“Noted…”

Cali Hayama looks at the drink longer and mutters.

“Though if you’re not going to drink it-”

Katsuki slides the drink over to her friend who gladly accepts the free drink. She sips the fruity cocktail. At least it is well made. Kenzo grabs his next sticker.

“Well, another free drink for you it seems.”

“Same guy?” Cali asks.

Kenzo shakes his head. “I think it was over there.”

Cali turns around to see the booth with the man in the vest and his many partners. She mutters to herself in English.

“Dear fucking God, my Gaydar is going crazy.”

“-Gaydar?” Katsuki looks at her friend with a weird look.

“Just a word we use for when we look at someone and get instant vibes they are likely LBGTQ+.”

“Well, he told me. He seems to have multiple partners.”

“Ooooh… Poly. All makes sense now.”

Kenzo places the cocktail on the counter. It is very colourful with red, yellow, and blue layers.

“Well, if you want it, here it is. Rainbow paradise”

Cali Hayama looks at the drink and she can’t help but snicker.

“Of course. Of course he picks that. You want this one?”

“Well, he said he was going to get me another drink as a ‘thank you’ for being accepting, so I will take it.”

Katsuki grabs the glass and she gives a “cheers” to her friend.

“Cheers, to the best token-straight I can ask for.”

Both the friends share a laugh. Cali sips while Katsuki takes a larger gulp.

“-How drunk are you?”

“A bit.”

“Your next drink will be water.”

Cali laughs. She gives a small bow to thank the bartender and motions for her friend to come with her. The two find a spot to sit down.

With the two friends seated down in an unoccupied booth, the rest of the bar, the night Katsuki has had, begins to fade in her memory. The man in the top hat, dead set, focused, sees the presence of a friend for Katsuki. He pulls back another glass of whisky. There’s someone getting between him and what he wants. The man in the vest seems to not care. He’s happily enjoying the company of his partners.

The two are laughing, having fun, and after some time grinding their way in the trios and singles ranks of FWA, they are truly finding time to cut back and relax. Even at one point, Katsuki gets Ririko on voice call and they talk for a few minutes, not wanting her to be entirely left out. This was what Katsuki just wanted for the night. A night away from her duties as a wrestler. Leave her mask off, and with another night of double duty expected for her with title implications everywhere, her head may be clear.

Or it won’t be.

Walking near the two is a larger Japanese male. His eyes are somewhat glazed over. A beer is in his hand. He’s likely one drink away from being overserved. There’s a slight stumble when he walks. He leans against a nearby wall and overhears the conversation. Katsuki and Cali Hayama are speaking English.

“So that was my weirdest date. I swear that guy was sent to prison at one point.”

“What are you saying!?” He shouts obnoxiously in Japanese at Cali. The two friends exchange glances. “What language are you speaking!?”

“English…” Cali answers in Japanese, getting up. “We speak both languages. So we can talk to each other in either or.”

“That isn’t Japanese, that's gibberish!” The man shouts, making fun of Cali’s Japanese. There is a great stench of alcohol in his voice. “Are you even from here!?”

Cali blinks. She’s taken back a bit. “Hold on. I’m used to people having exceptions to the Japanese side of things, but not the fact I’m from North America… There’s a first time for everything.”

Katsuki stands up, defending her friend. “She is with me. She’s good. This is none of your business. Just go, enjoy your drink, leave us.”

“I don’t want no dumb gaijin in this club!”

He says, using gaijin in an insulting context. Cali cuts a glare.

The confrontation is getting attention from some of the other patrons. This includes the man in the top hat. Seeing his chance, he walks over.

“I think you need to back away from that pretty lady.” He stumbles through his words

“Who in the world are you?” The big drunk turns to the man intervening. He smirks at him.

“I’m the daring hero who’s ready to save his girl-”

“I am NOT his girl…” Katsuki shouts. “He’s just drunk.”

“Sounds like she doesn’t want that.” He tries to poke the man in the hat in his chest, but is so intoxicated, he opts for the bicep instead.

“You’re just some old man”

“I’m not old! I’m…” He slurs his words and can’t even recall his age. Having seen enough, the man in the vest with his partners takes one final sip of his drink and he intervenes. Walking behind the big man, he gives a light tap on his shoulders.

“I think these young ladies would rather be left alone.”

“What are you doing?! Sticking your nose in my business!”

He turns around and growls at the third person involved.

“I do care about people having a pleasant experience. And you’re ruining it.”

Having had enough of this, Cali shouts.

“Get out! You guys are acting like idiots!”

Frustrated, the drunk pushes Cali down and she lands rear first on the hard floor of the club. That is a cue for all three men to begin to drunkenly fight as Katsuki quickly checks on her friend.

“Fucking bastard…” She mutters to herself wincing.

Kenzo quickly rushes over and gets security to intervene. The security guards need to triple team to grab the drunk as he fights and claws his way. The man with the top hat loses his headwear as he falls to the floor. The man with the vest, raises his hands, letting security separate him. His partners check up on him and, seemingly, unlike the others, he’ll be leaving willingly.

Katsuki helps Cali off the floor.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I have had worse bumps in wrestling. I’ll be fine.”

Looking up at the floor, the rockstar sees Katsu and grabs her leg with a tight grip.

“Now how about a thank you kiss for saving you?”

The wrestler shakes the grip off her leg. “No! You’re gross. You’re older than me. I’m not interested!”

He can’t seem to take no for an answer. Stumbling to his feet, he puts his hat back on. “You don’t get it. When I see someone, I get my way. I’ve been the man here before, and it has been a whole year…Longer than a year. I want the glory. I want all of it! I can’t take no for an answer. Now come here!”

He reaches and grabs Katsuki. She shouts as Cali tries to reach in and break it up! Kenzo, who was helping get the drunk out, turns around to see the scene. He rushes over as Katsuki and Cali manages to push him off as he rips one of the straps off of Katsuki’s dress. Furious, her instincts take over and she delivers a hard elbow to the jaw with a loud CRACK!

The unwanted suitor stumbles. He’s about to reach again, but Kenzo quickly grabs him from behind and holds him until another security guard comes to apprehend him.

Katsuki holds the top of her dress in an attempt to prevent anything from getting exposed. Her mouth is open and she is visibly shaken. Kenzo immediately checks on her.

“Are you okay? Where did he grab you?”

“Didn’t get anywhere too… Personal.” She’s breathing heavily, anxiety peaking.

“Grabbed my dress strap. Broke it. I…” There’s a nauseous feeling in her stomach. “I just don’t feel well.” And she rushes to the bathroom. Cali looks at Kenzo.

“I’ll keep an eye on her. Just get this sorted.”

The bartender nods and Cali quickly goes to the bathroom where she hears the sound of puking. Her friend is throwing up. She knocks on the door.

“Are you okay?”

Her friend coughs.

“I think I drank too much too fast. And with all this I…”

She stops to continue to hurl. Cali Hayama feels greatly for her friend.

“You didn’t deserve that, no woman does.”

“Could have been much worse, but it was scary.”

“Take your time. I’ll be here.”

There is some dead-air as Katsuki catches her breath.

“I know… Give me a minute.”

After things seemingly have begun to die down, Kenzo walks over to Cali. His shirt has a rip after the melee.

“Both of those troublemakers are gone.” His breathing is heavy. “The owner knows who they are and has banned them both. He also says if you return, we’ll make sure to give you a private booth to not be bothered.”

“Thanks, but I think it will be best to avoid this place for a bit.”

“I understand.” He nods and looks at the bathroom door. “How is your friend?”

“Sick, a little unnerved, just threw up, but she’ll be fine. I’ll take her back to her apartment, we’ll take it easy.”

“She held her own. I saw her knock that guy’s hat off.”

Cali chuckles. But, then the bartender makes a comment she doesn’t expect.

“-Makes sense she’s a wrestler.”

She stops. Slowly she turns to the bartender.

“I know you wrestle on television. Cali Hayama, right? When I saw her deliver an elbow like that I knew my hunch was right.”

Cali’s speechless.

“And considering the dye in her hair, I assume she is your masked friend. Katsu right? Used to be Vampyra.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.” Cali asks. “She’ll freak.”

“Secret is safe with me.”

Finally, Katsuki makes her way out of the dressing room after washing up. Some of her makeup is smeared from the mele. She grabbed what appears to be a paperclip as a way to keep her dress together.

“Are you going to be okay?” Kenzo asks her.

“I will be. Just needed a moment to get sorted.” She looks at the bartender. “Umm, thank you for being kind tonight and for helping me there.”

Kenzo gives a small grin.

“My family raised me to treat people well.”

“Then we need more people like you… Uhh…”

She looks at where his nametag was, but it is gone after the fight.

“Kenzo.” He says. The masked wrestler, feeling somewhat comfortable around him, responds.

“Katsuki.”

She runs her hand through her hair, somewhat nervous. Cali Hayma hums. She knows exactly what her friend is feeling right now and she can’t help but give a small grin.

“Well, my manager told me to give you this.” He reaches into his pocket and it is a business card with a phone number on it. “He wants you to call him sometime this week. He wants to give you a VIP pass next time you come. Just as an apology.”

Katsuki takes it and puts it into her purse. She blushes slightly. “Thank you, Kenzo. I suppose now we should head out.”

“Maybe next time I’ll actually finish a drink.” Cali chuckles before she and Katsu give a small wave goodbye to the bartender.

“Hope to see you again. Stay safe, Cali and Katsuki.”

He bows his head slightly and the two friends head towards the exit and outside.

Both Cali and Katsuki begin the trek back home to the apartment, having a night which was meant to be low-key, but turned out to be far more eventful than expected. Cali playfully nudges Katsuki, appearing to tease her about something. Though, deep down, both are thankful they have left tonight unscathed. Starting tomorrow, she will be back to work. Back to the safety of Katsu. Hopefully, things will go much more smoothly, but one thing that stays the same is-

That Katsu has people she can call upon. She’ll need them. Not just in their trios match. But as she fights for a chance to show that she is ready to take the spotlight.

And earn the right to fight for singles gold once again.

The two friends, after escaping the confines of the club, appear to begin to be put at ease. Behind them, Kenzo stands at the door, smiling as he sees the two head off.

 

[Willis]

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Click on the title above for the RP!​

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Spoiler: Plain Text

Brooklyn Steiner Starring in Clapping for the wrong reason

Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania FWA FallOut - Saturday 16th September, 2023 Steiner rolls away from O’Ryan but is unable to celebrate his victory, instead simply lying back on the mat and take deep, laboured breaths. Natalie Rosenberg: "Here is your winner… Brooklyn… Steiner!!" Jean-Luc Watkins: "An incredible contest here between these two competitors, with Steiner just about securing the win just before the time limit elapsed." Allen Price: "Surprising to see Ashley O’Ryan succumb to defeat in his very first match back in the FWA, but Brooklyn Steiner more than earned that three-count after nearly twenty minutes of hardfought competition." Jean-Luc Watkins: "And these two will get their chance to lay hands upon one another soon enough, with Jon Russnow announcing earlier tonight that both will be a part of the thirteen-person Gunfight Battle Royale at Lights out in Kinshasa. If that encounter is anything like what we just saw, it’ll be something to look forward to." The audience may appear surprised, but Brooklyn Steiner doesn’t as he finally climbs to his feet. He doesn’t look short of confidence as the official hoists his hand in the air Brooklyn Steiner, soaked in sweat and still catching his breath, makes his way towards the backstage area. The thunderous cheers of the crowd serve as a fitting backdrop to his triumphant moment. As he reaches the end of the ramp, he spots a handmade sign in the audience that reads, "Brooklyn belongs here." A wave of emotion washes over him, and he tears up at the sight of the sign. It's a poignant reminder of how far he's come. Memories of a pivotal moment from three years ago flood his mind, taking him back to the time when he was just starting his journey in the wrestling world. A Flashback The Summer of 2020 A Year After “The Comments”/The Start of Brooklyn’s rise New York City, New York The scene unfolds in the summer of 2020, and the dimly lit, nearly empty diner in the heart of New York City provides the backdrop. Brooklyn Steiner and his agent, Vincent Saint, find themselves in a quiet corner booth, bathed in the soft glow of a neon sign. The atmosphere inside is hushed, with only the occasional clinking of silverware and the faint hum of the diner's appliances breaking the silence. Steiner, dressed casually in a LeBron James Miami Heat jersey and shorts, stares intently at Saint from across the worn, retro-style table. As Vincent Saint takes a sip of his tea and nibbles on his bagel, he appears slightly puzzled by Steiner's question. The question hangs in the air, heavy with contemplation, as Steiner leans forward, earnestly seeking answers. It's a moment of introspection, a pivotal juncture in Steiner's career where he grapples with the profound question, "Where do I belong?" The diner's ambiance lends an almost cinematic quality to this crucial conversation between friends and collaborators. Vincent Saint,a young african american around the same age of Brooklyn Steiner sporting a well-worn suit that's seen its fair share of days, glances over at his closest friend and chuckles heartily at the mere notion of him grappling with an existential crisis. He lifts his tea to his lips, savoring the warmth and comfort it offers in the midst of their late-night diner rendezvous. "Man, it's way too damn late for you to be caught up in an existential crisis, bro." The diner's waitress, fitting the quintessential image of a late-night server, approaches their table carrying a generous stack of steaming French toast. As she sets the plate in front of Steiner, her gaze lingers on him, clearly finding him quite attractive. She unconsciously bites her lower lip, a subtle yet telling sign of her appreciation. Steiner, wholly oblivious to the waitress's attention, immediately digs into his meal, savoring the warm and comforting flavors of the French toast, blissfully unaware of the silent admiration unfolding in his presence. Vincent looks over to his client and friend as Steiner eats his french toast and asks "Let me make sure I got this straight, man. You catch a cancellation, get dropped by one of the hottest pop stars on the planet, then stumble upon some YouTube video of this wrestler named Cyrus Truth, and that's got you thinking you're gonna step into the ring? Can't you see why me and your old man think this is straight-up crazy, my dude?" Vincent catches a breath as he continues on his rant to understand where his best friend and client mind is at. "Let me get this straight, no real training, just you doing some self-made bootleg version of it, and you're gonna step into your very first wrestling match, in a damn bingo hall no less, all in just a couple of weeks? I see why you're dodging your pops, man. He's out there trying to resurrect your acting gig, and you're out here pulling this wild-ass stunt." Steiner cracks a sly grin, absorbing Vincent's verbal barrage, and with a nonchalant nod, he simply responds, "Yeah." Steiner finishes off the french toasts pretty quickly. He responds more to Vincent. “ I don’t care what my father says, this isn’t his life or yours for that matter, it’s mine. I know everyone, the media, TMZ think this is a crazy stunt, but it’s not, this is something I want to take a shot at and if I love it, I’ll resume, if I hate it, I can go back to do whatever it is that is next up for me but I’m giving this a try. And who needs a trainer, I can do this on my own… I have plenty of Youtube videos to watch and learn from. I mean maybe if the right trainer comes along, but as of now I don’t feel like I need one.” Vincent can't help but burst into laughter at the notion of Steiner trying to become a pro wrestler through self-taught YouTube tutorials. After his laughter subsides, he leans in to reply."You're gonna end up dead, man. Watch your back." The waitress makes her way back to their table, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes, intending to request an autograph from Steiner. However, Vincent discreetly signals to her, indicating that now is not the time to disturb their conversation. As they continue their discussion about Steiner's unforeseen journey into the world of professional wrestling. “If you ask me….” Steiner quickly cuts him off “No one asked you. So you're either going to support this or not. I’m focused on what I want. “ Saint finally comes to terms with this. "Look, I got your back, man, always will. But we both know your old man ain't gonna be on board with this, and I can see why you've been dodging him. But you can't dodge that dude forever. Your little sister's birthday's right around the corner, and after this first-ever match in that bingo hall, he's gonna let you have it. And, honestly, you ain't exactly known for standing up to him, bro.". Steiner finished off his plate. “I will this time.” Steiner signals for the check, and as the waitress approaches with it, he flashes a friendly smile, offering to take a selfie with her before settling the bill. He looks over to Vincent “I got time to prepare to face my father, until then, I will keep training myself for this match. And who knows where this road will take me, but I will tell you this, I’m going to find out.” Vincent extends his fist toward Steiner, who reciprocates with a solid fist bump. The two of them rise from their booth and make their way toward the exit of the diner. As they step outside, a swarm of paparazzi descends upon Brooklyn Steiner, bombarding him with a barrage of questions ranging from his foray into the wrestling world to his recent breakup with Sarah Grayson, whose career appears to be soaring while his takes a dip. Vincent valiantly pushes back the crowd and blocks the intrusive camera flashes, creating a path for him and Brooklyn. Without missing a beat, they swiftly hop into a waiting taxi cab, leaving the chaotic scene behind as they prepare to navigate the next chapter of Steiner's life. The Autumn of 2020 A Year After “The Comments”/The Start of Brooklyn’s rise Hamptons, New York The scene undergoes a surreal transformation. Suddenly, it's the fall of 2020, and Brooklyn finds himself standing at the grand entrance of his father's luxurious Hamptons residence. The Scott mansion is a testament to the success of Kirkman Scott, a Hollywood titan. Brooklyn is dressed for the crisp autumn season in a plaid shirt and well-fitted jeans, his white sneakers making a muted statement as he crosses the threshold into the luxurious home. It's a special occasion—the 13th birthday of his half-sister, Mischa. Only immediate family has gathered for this intimate celebration. Upon entering, Brooklyn is greeted by Mischa, the bond between them evident in the elaborate secret handshake they share. Their connection transcends the complexities of the Scott family dynamic. While the rest of the family might be embroiled in drama and tension, Brooklyn and Mischa have always managed to find solace in each other's company. Mischa's bright eyes light up as she ushers Brooklyn inside. "Hey, big bro," she chirps, her voice filled with youthful enthusiasm. Brooklyn's gaze scans the opulent surroundings, the grandeur of the mansion evident in every detail. He inquires about the whereabouts of his father, Kirkman, to which Mischa nods toward the office. As Brooklyn makes his way through the lavish hallways, he crosses paths with Rebecca, his stepmother. Their relationship is strained, marred by the fact that Rebecca is only seven years older than Brooklyn himself. Her involvement in his father's life, especially after Kirkman left Brooklyn's mother for her, has been a source of tension. However, on this special occasion, Rebecca reaches out to Brooklyn with a warm hug, a gesture born out of awareness of the ongoing friction between Brooklyn and Kirkman. She knows that beneath the surface, there are unresolved emotions, and in this moment, she chooses to extend an olive branch, if only for Mischa's sake. Brooklyn accepts the hug with a polite nod, a tacit acknowledgment of the delicate balance that exists within the Scott family. As Brooklyn settles onto the plush couch in the lavish Scott mansion, Rebecca, wearing casual yet unmistakably expensive clothing, approaches him with a tray of drinks. She offers him a glass, her attempt to ease the tension that often hovers in the air between them. Brooklyn declines with a polite but distant smile, preferring to keep his wits about him in the midst of family dynamics that always seem ready to unravel. His attention is drawn to Mischa, who excitedly holds up her iPhone, the camera poised for action. It's clear she has something in mind. Before she can even ask, Brooklyn anticipates her intent. "You want to do a TikTok, don't you?" he says with a playful grin. Mischa's eyes light up, and she nods vigorously. They embark on a spontaneous dance routine, their moves equal parts silly and endearing. Laughter fills the room as they film the impromptu performance and post it to the app, sharing their special sibling bond with the world. But as the camera rolls, Mischa begins to sing a song by Sarah Grayson, his ex-girlfriend. The lyrics playfully reminisce about Sarah and his past relationship, and while it's intended as a harmless joke, Brooklyn can't help but feel a pang of discomfort. He knows that the wounds from that breakup still run deep, despite his public image as a resilient individual. The joke hits a little too close to home, and Brooklyn's smile fades. He stops dancing and gently but firmly tells Mischa, "Hey, that's not funny." His tone carries a hint of vulnerability, a reminder that some scars are not easily healed, even in the name of humor. Rebecca, who has been observing the exchange from the sidelines, chooses this moment to take a seat in the living room. She senses the tension in the room and decides to engage in the conversation. "So, Brooklyn," she starts, her voice calm and inquisitive, "how's your mom doing?" Brooklyn's expression tightens ever so slightly at the mention of his mother. It's a topic he prefers to avoid, especially when discussing it with Rebecca. "She's fine," Brooklyn replies curtly, his response carrying a guarded tone. He doesn't offer any further details, preferring to keep that part of his life as private as possible, even within the confines of the Scott family mansion. As the conversation lingers in the air, the room remains a delicate web of emotions, where unspoken tensions, familial bonds, and the weight of past relationships all coexist, painting a complex portrait of Brooklyn's life beyond the glamorous facade of fame and fortune. The awkward silence in the room is broken by the sound of footsteps descending the grand staircase. All eyes turn to the source of the disturbance, and there, making his entrance, is Kirkman Scott himself. He descends the stairs with an air of authority, his tall frame exuding the confidence that comes with decades of success in Hollywood. Kirkman is dressed in a vintage sweater vest that speaks of old-world charm, paired with perfectly pressed khaki pants. His attire is a subtle reminder of his status as a Hollywood icon, a man who effortlessly blends the classic with the contemporary. As Kirkman's gaze falls upon Brooklyn, he nods in acknowledgment, his expression a mixture of formality and fatherly concern. Without exchanging words with the others, he beckons Brooklyn to join him, a silent request for a private conversation. Brooklyn follows his father, their footsteps echoing through the mansion's opulent halls. He attempts to engage in conversation, a subtle plea for connection, but Kirkman's demeanor remains composed and distant. Finally, they reach Kirkman's massive office, a room that exudes power and influence. It's adorned with awards, framed movie posters, and a panoramic view of the estate's lush grounds. The room is a testament to Kirkman's accomplishments, and it serves as a stark contrast to Brooklyn's journey, one marked by ambition and independence.As the two enter the office, the heavy door swings shut behind them, enclosing them in an atmosphere charged with expectation. Brooklyn, his emotions a tumultuous mix of longing and apprehension, waits for Kirkman to speak, hoping that this conversation will bridge the gap that has grown between them. As Brooklyn enters Kirkman's grand office, he can't help but take in the sheer opulence of the room. The walls adorned with framed movie posters and awards, the imposing oak desk, and the panoramic view of the estate's sprawling grounds all serve as a reminder of his father's towering success. Kirkman, ever the picture of authority, takes his seat behind the massive desk. His expression is stern, his features etched with determination. He wastes no time in getting straight to the point, his voice carrying the weight of expectation and a father's concern. "Brooklyn," Kirkman begins, his tone firm and unyielding, “this fascination with wrestling, it seems like a youthful fantasy. I strongly urge you to consider letting it go, for your own good." Brooklyn's heart sinks as he braces himself for the confrontation he knew was coming. He takes a seat opposite his father, their eyes locking in a tense exchange. The room feels charged with tension as Kirkman's disapproval hangs heavily in the air. Kirkman's voice rises with frustration as he continues, his words like thunderclaps in the confined space of the office. "You're out there, wrestling in frickin' bingo halls, Brooklyn! These indie wrestling carnies, they're just cashing in on your name, trying to make a quick buck. Do you even realize the kind of danger you're putting yourself in? You're gonna end up getting yourself seriously banged up, and for what, huh?" He leans forward, his face inches from Brooklyn's, his eyes burning with paternal concern."You get it? Most of these wrestlers don't even see their 60s. You wanna live that kinda life? You wanna leave that kinda mark on our name? I ain't gonna stand by and watch you wreck our family legacy with this crazy pursuit." Kirkman's words hang heavy in the room, a stark reminder of the gulf that has grown between father and son. Brooklyn's dreams clash with the weight of tradition, and in this moment, the chasm between them seems insurmountable. As Kirkman's impassioned words fill the room, Brooklyn's face takes on a distant look, a mask of someone who is trying to block out the tirade directed at him. It's clear that he's choosing to ignore his father, at least for the moment, as if he believes that silence is his best defense against the verbal onslaught. But Kirkman is not one to be ignored, especially when he's on the verge of a shouting match. He raises his voice to a deafening volume, his face contorted with anger and frustration, as if trying to make sure that Brooklyn hears every word."Hey, Brooklyn, just friggin' listen to me!" Kirkman bellows, his voice echoing in the confines of the office. His hands clenched into fists on his desk, his frustration palpable. In the midst of this heated exchange, Kirkman's eyes happen to glance towards Brooklyn's forehead. There, amidst the disarray of their argument, he notices something that stops him dead in his tracks—an unmistakable scar, massive and jagged, etched into Brooklyn's head. Kirkman's anger and agitation instantaneously give way to a deep shock, and his eyes remain fixated on the prominent scar etched on Brooklyn's head. His voice, once furious, now quivers into a whisper as he stammers, "Brooklyn, what the hell happened to your frickin' head?" The scar serves as a stark, undeniable reminder of the physical toll professional wrestling has exacted on his son. It's a visual representation of the very danger Kirkman had vehemently warned him about. Brooklyn, still silent but visibly shaken, lowers his head slightly. The scar stands as a vivid testament to the path he's chosen and the sacrifices he's already made along the way. An uneasy silence blankets the room as father and son grapple with the harsh reality of Brooklyn's chosen career and the undeniable consequences it's already wrought. In a moment of reflection, Brooklyn's mind drifts back to the origins of that scar. It's the result of his very first match, an event that occurred about a week and a half before this conversation. He flashes back to that underground showdown, where he faced off against Warhammer 4000, a legendary giant of the underground hardcore wrestling scene. Warhammer 4000, a massive beast in both height and weight, held nothing back in terms of brutality. The scar Kirkman is now staring at is the result of that merciless encounter. Brooklyn, with a look of determination etched on his face, leaned forward in the leather chair across from his father's imposing oak desk. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of antique lamps casting elongated shadows on the plush carpet. Kirkman, his brows furrowed deeply, loomed over his son like a storm cloud, his eyes aflame with anger "Brooklyn, I can't freakin' believe you're still chasing after this wrestling crap! You've got a legacy to maintain, a name to safeguard!" Kirkman's voice boomed through the room, reverberating off the mahogany-paneled walls. His frustration was palpable, born more out of paternal concern than a simple care for the family's illustrious reputation. "Dad, it's not nonsense. It's my dream, my passion," Brooklyn finally uttered a word of defense, his voice unwavering in the face of his father's fury. Kirkman couldn't contain his anger any longer. With a swift, thunderous motion, he slammed his hand onto the desk, the resounding thud echoing in the room. "Passion? You're callin' it passion, but it's nothin' but a damn reckless obsession! I busted my hump my whole life to build up the Scott name in Hollywood, and you wanna stain it with this circus act?" Brooklyn, undeterred, snapped back at him, his eyes locking onto his father's with unwavering resolve. “It's not a sideshow, Dad! It's real. It's what I want, not what you want for me.” Kirkman stood abruptly, his towering presence dominating the room as he ratcheted up the volume of his voice. “You will never have my support in this, Brooklyn! I won't stand by and watch you destroy our family's legacy.” Brooklyn, a mixture of determination and hurt in his eyes, took a measured step closer to his father. Calm but resolute, he pointed at his dad and responded, his words cutting through the tense air. “You don't have to support me, Dad. But you can't stop me either.” Kirkman's face turned crimson with anger, veins pulsating on his forehead. He realized, begrudgingly, that he wouldn't change Brooklyn's mind. In a final burst of rage, he screamed, his voice hoarse and filled with frustration, “Get out! Get out of my office, and don't come back until you've come to your senses!” Brooklyn, feeling defeated but unwavering in his situation, turned and exited his father's office. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Kirkman alone in his office, seething with frustration and disappointment. He mutters to himself “This kid really thinks he is going to make it to the damn FWA.” Suddenly, the scene transformed. The once-muted atmosphere of Kirkman's office faded away, replaced by the thunderous roar of a live FWA crowd backstage at the September 16th episode of FWA Fallout! FWA Backstage\\\YouTube Exclusive​ Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania FWA FallOut - Saturday 16th September, 2023 Brooklyn Steiner, still basking in the glow of his massive win in his debut match against hall of famer Ashley O’Ryan, walked briskly backstage as the FWA Fallout episode came to a close. His adrenaline still pumping, he couldn't help but feel the weight of his accomplishment. As he made his way towards the exit of the arena, he noticed the FWA cameras approaching, ready to capture the moment for their YouTube channel. Steiner, wearing jeans and a shirt proudly displaying the NWA:JP logo, couldn't resist the opportunity to share his thoughts with the world after this significant victory. He turned towards the cameras, a mix of determination and excitement in his eyes. Brooklyn Steiner: “Do I have everybody’s attention now?” Brooklyn Steiner paused for a second, a mischievous smirk curling on his face. The glint in his eyes revealed that he was only playing around, that his ego hadn't swelled despite the enormity of his victory tonight. His confidence was unmistakable, but it was laced with a touch of humility. Brooklyn Steiner: “First off, Ashley, we need to run that back. I can’t be the only one who thinks that, you heard that crowd out there and I wouldn’t feel right, it would bother me actually if me and you don't see each other in that ring one more time. That match could of went either way, but the wrestling gods tonight stood in my favor, but it seems for the next chance for us to potentially see each other one more time, seems the only way for that to happen is for both of us to stand tall in the Gunfight battle royale, 13 men, 12 announce will be in a battle royal, and the last two standing will not only eventually face off for the chance to challenge for FWA X Division Championship, but, will tag together to challenge for the world tag team titles. So much going on, so much to reach for. A direct pipeline to potentially two championships. I would lie to you if I would say, I saw this kind of success coming, but after having that amazing match, against Ashley…. Hey…. ” Steiner points to a stage hand off-camera with a smirk, motioning for them to come closer. As the camera continues to roll, Steiner leans in and asks the stage hand. Brooklyn Steiner: "Hey, buddy, how do you think Shake Meltzer would rate the match I just had with Ashley?" He chuckles for a moment before continuing, and before the stage hand can even answer he cuts him off. Brooklyn Steiner: "You know, the man who trained me once told me that to have a career in wrestling worth anything, I need to ignore the opinions of the wrestling media because, let's be honest, they're mostly all a joke." Brooklyn playfully winks as he divulges that his trainer doesn't have a favorable opinion of the wrestling media, suggesting that he might simply be echoing those sentiments and may not truly share the same views. Brooklyn Steiner: “So much, so fast, I really hate to talk and walk like this, but, my trainer, he is waiting for me so we can head to the jet and take it to prepare for the battle royal, I really want to live in this moment, to live in the feeling that the wrestling world gave me, such a huge win. But I can’t relax, I have so many people on my list to prove wrong. While defeating Ashley O’Ryan was massive, the road doesn't stop here. I want the tag team championships, I want the X Division Championships. Steiner walks deliberately, each step measured as the FWA camera crew follows him closely. He knows that he's a hot commodity right now in FWA, and he's giving the crew the footage they need. His eyes betray the surreal nature of it all, a mix of excitement and disbelief, as he continues down the backstage corridor. Brooklyn Steiner: "Things are aligning quite nicely for me, and while the allure of going back home, lounging on my lavish couch, and catching some classic 'Boy Meets World' on Disney Plus sounds enticing, I can't afford to lose focus. I've got to lock in because the competition in this match, in this Gunfight Battle Royale, is nothing short of formidable. You see, in the world of professional wrestling, as I'm steadily discovering, there's no room for complacency. The journey never truly ends, and there's always another event and another challenge waiting just around the corner. Take a gander at the names gracing this match; it's a veritable who's who of talent in that ring. So, I'll keep my eyes on the prize and my resolve unwavering, for in this business, the road never truly comes to a halt." The graphic of the Gunfight Battle Royale match card appears on the screen, its vibrant colors and bold typography capturing the viewers' attention. As the virtual representation of the upcoming showdown fills the screen, the sounds of Brooklyn Steiner's footsteps echo in the background. Each footfall is purposeful, a steady cadence that brings him closer to his destination: a meeting with his trainer, a crucial meeting that will set the stage for his preparations for the match that could catapult him to unprecedented heights in his first month with the company. The cameraman, eager to glean more insights from the rising star, can be heard asking Steiner about his trainer. The anticipation in the air is obvious as fans and colleagues alike await the revelation of the person who has played a pivotal role in shaping Steiner's journey to success to get to and succeed in the FWA. As the graphic of the Gunfight Battle Royale match card fades from the screen, a sly and confident smirk spreads across Steiner's face. It's a telling expression, hinting at the intrigue and excitement surrounding the enigmatic figure who has been instrumental in his wrestling career. Brooklyn reaches the parking lot as he stands and waits a bit awkwardly as it's just him and the Youtube camera crew. To break the tension he goes more on about the Gunfight Battle Royale. Brooklyn Steiner: "Come Lights Out, come the Gunfight battle Royale, the goal is to outlast everyone, and be one of the last two men standing and I hope it’s Ashley O’Ryan but if it’s not, who ever it is, just know, you are standing in front of me. And you have the choice to be my stepping stone as I reach for the damn sky, or you can be the next person to fall to “The Redeemer” because the motto is simple, when you shoot for the stars, you better be ready because you are shooting at me." Steiner's face lights up with an unexpected burst of laughter, his expression a mix of amusement and uncertainty as he attempts a new catchphrase. He glances over to the camera crew, his laughter echoing through the backstage area, and with an infectious grin. Brooklyn Steiner: ""Hey, did that one land or did it crash and burn? I mean, we've got to keep the fans entertained, right?" he playfully asks, his voice laced with glee, as if seeking their feedback and camaraderie, His eyes twinkle with a hint of mischievous excitement, eager to share these light-hearted moments amidst the intensity of the wrestling world. The unmistakable sound of a car tearing through the area with reckless abandon grabs everyone's attention, and Steiner swiftly turns to see the spectacle unfolding. The car executes daring donuts around Steiner, the screeching tires echoing through the air until it finally grinds to a halt. With a resounding slam, the car door swings open dramatically, revealing none other than Jonathan McGinnis, the former Two-time World Champion of the now-defunct CWA. McGinnis, a notorious figure from the annals of CWA history, steps out of the car and fixes his gaze upon Steiner. It's a moment that holds the weight of anticipation, as everyone assumes what's transpiring—Jonathan McGinnis, the enigmatic trainer behind FWA's latest sensation, Brooklyn Steiner, has arrived on the scene. Dressed in a vintage CWA Snowmantashi T-shirt and crisp white jeans, he calls out to Steiner, his presence signaling the start of a significant moment. Jonathan McGinnis: "Get in loser, we’re going Superkicking.” Jonathan McGinnis flashed a sly grin as he leaned against his car and casually quipped/ He couldn't resist the playful reference to the iconic line from the 2004 hit movie "Mean Girls." Brooklyn Steiner chuckled heartily at the reference, acknowledging the YouTube camera crew with a nod before climbing into the car alongside his unpredictable trainer. . The wrestling world knew McGinnis for his mercurial nature, making this partnership a high-stakes venture for the rising star. With Steiner on board, the car roared to life, and as they sped away, he left behind the bustling backstage, heading toward the jet that would take him on the next leg of his journey, preparing to train with the legendary Jonathan McGinnis for Lights out and for the Gunfight Battle Royale.

 

[AON]

The place had everything you'd need for a dive bar: barstools and beers. The counter was wiped down constantly, but the drinks and the words kept spilling without provocation. The few that were there were speaking to others, intoxicatingly sharing their secrets with anyone who'd listen. As long as they pay and don't harass those they don't know, they are welcome in any seedy bar.

Jack The Clipper pushed the door open and walked in. When a man like Jack entered a room, people tended to notice. To his surprise, however, not one person batted an eye. Good, he thought, I don't need the attention tonight, at least not yet. Jack's eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bar. It would've been easier to get around if he wasn't such a large man, but hey, appearance is everything. He found an open spot and lifted a finger at the bartender, who immediately gave him a beer. The air is thick with both overbearing scents, and the sound of honky-tonk music blares loudly behind the swinging, wooden saloon doors.

Bartender: "What can I get ya Stranger?"

The ever-so-traditional, overly friendly bartender asked him, leaning over the bar to stare up at Jack.

Jack The Clipper: "The blue stuff..."

Bartender: "....what?"

Ah, they don't drink the blue stuff around these parts. Wimps.

Jack The Clipper "Whisky. On the rocks."

In a matter of moments, the shot glass was placed in front of Jack, and in one mouthful, it was gone in a flash.

Bartender: "Iffin' you don't mind me saying. You don't sound like you're around these parts."

A bitter smile came across Jack's hardened face.

Jack The Clipper: "What gave it away?"

Bartender: Sounds like you'd be more comfy in one of them...watta call them? Pubs?"

Jack The Clipper: Fuck that, can't get a decent one of this country, watered down pints forced atmosphere, stick a few British flags around the place and call it a British pub. Screw that noise. Besides, those are tourist traps. I like low places. Warm beer. Cheap people. Know what I mean?

It was clear that the bartender really didn't, so he just nodded and went about his business; the bar was fairly empty, so all he could do was see to the big scary British man, snacks and drinks. The bar was empty, lifeless... only the bartender remained, wiping down the counter and minding his own business. Jack seemed to stare fixated in the brown liquor, staring it down after swirling it back and forward.

Bartender: "Something troubling ya, mister?"

Jack pursed his lips, then took a deep, dramatic breath through his nose before exhaling out his mouth... and beginning to speak in a low, gravelly tone.

Jack The Clipper: "A man works his whole life for a chance...a man takes a chance...a man works and toils and grabs for the biggest moment of his life...only to get it stolen from the man...and now I have to crawl around with the split fuckin' ends of the worlds. I hate fuckin' split ends.

Bartender: "Come again?

Jack The Clipper: "I'm a barber. Good, solid trade that. Not that whatever the fuck passes for jobs these days, what the fuck is an influencer? Who the fuck are they influencing? Certainly, no one with a fucking brain cell. They get to speak into a camera and make more money than I've ever seen in my life. Fucked up world...."

Down goes one more shot, slammed down. Refilled.

Jack The Clipper: "That kind of shit reminds me of this girl, Madison, who thinks she can fuck around with people, not pay her dues and get rewarded for it?

Jack shakes his head with a snort.

Jack The Clipper: You know, my dad had a saying when life punches you in the face...you come at it with a brick, well that's what I'm going to do to a whole bunch of wankers who are in need of a good cuttin' if you know what I mean...and well here I am. Rusty and trusty scissors in hand, and I'm fixin' to run through them all.

Rinse. Repeat on the drink.

Jack The Clipper: But ya know somethin'... there aren't too many people who believe that Jack The Clipper is a threat. See, I've been on some ups and downs on this little journey called life, and, more often than not, I've always come out the other side rode hard and put up wet. My whole life, there ain't nothin' behind me but a broken trail of coulda's, woulda's, and shoulda's... and some might say that ain't no way for a man to live... but honestly? It's the only way to live, mate.

Jack utterly makes a short, sharp laugh and offers the bartender a little mock toast before taking another draft. Wow, he's really motoring through those, isn't he? He's a big lad he can handle it.

Jack The Clipper: Take some advice from your friendly uncle Jackie. Living your life in the mud and grime, having to fight for what's yours. Scraping and clawing for what is yours? A meal taste better when you have to when you wrestle it from the hands of some wanker that tried to take it from you. Wild dogs are only happy when they have to rip out someone else's throat to get fed and believe me. I'm about to put down the motherload of loud, mouthy, vicious pups.

By now, the bartender pretty much just started to smile and nod, it's what people tended to do when they had nothing else really to say

Jack The Clipper: See, every decision I've ever made has brought me to this point in my career-- in my life! I ain't never done nothin' the easy way 'cause where's the fun in that? I've seen guys come and go in this business, one after another, that sell their souls to the big leagues, burn bright, then fade away... The Madisons, the Brooklyn Steiners, the Death Walkers. I've seen them all before. In droves, they walk down and spout off all their crazy ambitions with a pocket full of unreachable dreams in tow. And do you know what happens to the overwhelming majority of them? They...flop. They...fail. They crash...and burn. For some of them, the dream dies after maybe...I don't know...three or four weeks? After such a short amount of time, they realise that they just can't do it. They can't reach their dreams. On their first night, they'll have given the generic 'what I wanna accomplish in FWA is…" speech...yet only a matter of weeks later, they've realised that accomplishing those feats is simply impossible for them. After one or two defeats or a couple of setbacks, it dawns on them that they just can't live up to the hype that they created on their first night. Now, sure...maybe some of them hang around a little longer. Maybe some of them are a little more...persistent, and that's something that could be described as admirable...yet it could at the same time be described as...stupid. I'm more inclined to agree with the latter. You see, I take the correct view that if you have even the slightest, niggling, creeping doubt that you belong here.then you need to stop as soon as that thought makes itself known. Carrying on past that point...is pathetic. Without one hundred per cent self-belief... you'll accomplish nothing. Not an iota of success will come your way. So, going out to the ring when you've had thoughts of self-doubt? Well, you're basically like a lamb to the slaughter, aren't you? And fighting in the ring like that is not commendable or admirable or respect-worthy – it's disgraceful. It's insulting. It's offensive to this industry. Yet, unfortunately... it's frequent.

Bartender: "I don't really know who they are. Are we still talking about cutting hair?

Jack The Clipper: It's the curse of the fighter, my man. They come into this world with all the piss and vinegar but have no staying power. Now, the obvious question: Why do all these men suddenly have the doubts that lead to their departure? Why do they all suddenly stumble upon this realisation that everything they've said is a lie? Why do so, so...so...many of them bow out without making the impact that they promised? Well, the answer is simple – it's down to the fact that there's a harrowing truth within a company like FWA that people fight so hard to...avoid. This sad, inescapable, undeniable, undefeatable truth is that not every person who steps into an FWA ring can be a champion. Not every man who walks on down that ramp, contract in hand, can hold the gold that they think they're worth. I mean, it's common sense, isn't it? If everybody were a champion...then there'd be no point in being a champion, would there? For once, I don't mean to sound patronising by laying it out in such simple terms, but I just find it astounding that so many people fail to grasp such a basic concept. Yet, somehow, they do. And then one day, it just dawns on them that only a select few will make it to the top...and they're not amongst that few. It's quite sad when you think about it...although I still prefer pathetic, if I'm honest. But please, do not get me wrong, everyone, I'm going to be fighting in Lights Out. Sure, those people are insulting to the industry and offensive to it...but what do I care about the state of the industry? I'm not some fat cat sitting in the backroom advising Ash O'Ryan about his hall-of-fame annual net profit margins...if that's even a thing. No. As pathetic as those people who drop out are...I don't hate them or even dislike them. On the contrary – I love them. Because people like that? People, I'll be fighting in Lights Out? People who're never gonna make it but still decide to enter this ring? They make people like me...LOOK GOOD. They help people like me...BECOME CHAMPIONS! And FWA...FWA just seems to be a hotbed for people like that. FWA just seems to consistently attract never-will-be, the guys who come in and serve no other purpose other than giving men like me another win on the record. I don't know what it is about the place, and I won't try to find an explanation. If it's not broken, don't fix it, am I right?

Jack looks out for a response from the bartender, although he doesn't expect to get one, at least not a positive one anyway. Unsurprisingly, all he receives is a blank look

Jack The Clipper: Well, just so we're clear, I am right. I'm sure in two days' time, there'll be another one walking through the door. Heck, maybe my next match will be against someone like that. Even when I look at the roster now… they're there. Oh, you may not think they're there...but they are. There are a few diamonds...but there also surrounded by a ton of rough. I mean, at first glance, I can already see a lot of people in that battle royale that just ain't gonna make it here in FWA. I can see plenty of people whose only possible chance of leaving a legacy in this company will be that they may have furthered mine if our paths should cross. Now, I don't wanna name names and deliberately embarrass people, but You see people like this... they're flashes in the pan. They arrive, they make a bit of commotion, and then they're gone. Quick as a flash. They're fleeting...and they sure as hell don't make it…to the top. A guy like me, though...well, when I put pen to paper on a contract, you can bet that I'll be around for a long...long time. And do you wanna know why that is? Because I believe. As I've said before, all those other wankers are going to say all that crap...but they don't believe it. Me though? I believe every word that comes out of my mouth. I believe every thought that enters my mind. I believe in Jack The Clipper...and so should all of you. So when I tell you that Jack The Clipper will beat any person who's placed before me in the ...believe it. And when I tell you that Jack The Clipper will enter FWA's Hall of Fame...believe it. And when I tell you that Jack The Clipper will become the greatest FWA Champion in history...believe...it. And I don't care whether you like any of those occurrences...all you need to know is that they're all...going to happen.

At this point, Jack The Clipper is not smiling. Clearly, this belief in his own future success is something that he feels strongly about, and he tries to drive that home by poising his eyes and speaking sternly. The bartender doesn't seem to follow his beliefs and just stares blankly at the Clipper, whose expression soon relaxes, and the cocky smirk returns to his face again as he begins to speak

Jack The Clipper: I feel like I gotta explain myself. I don't want you to think that I only pray for the weak, mate. That's truly not what allured me to FWA. Sure, the amount of deluded, untalented individuals that FWA acts as an employer for... it's attractive...Shooting fish in a barrel is fun...but only for so long. The fact of the matter is that I came here to achieve greater things. That's why I'm going to win the gunfire ring, just like everyone in that battle role thinks they're going to. The major difference, though? They're the majority of weaklings. That, of course, automatically means that there's a minority who make it...a minority who achieve greatness in a company like FWA, a minority who talk the talk and truly walk the walk...and I am in...that minority. That's the road I was born to take, and whether those wankers like it or not...they can't stop me...nobody can stop me. An ability like mine cannot be gained. No amount of hard work or money can allow you to develop skills like mine....why? Because I'm a damn hard ass, they want to entertain people. I want to cut down every single one.

Jack takes another shot before looking at the bartender, who seems to look actively uncomfortable right now.

Jack The Clipper: You don't believe me, do you? Of course, you don't. Well, that doesn't matter too much to me. People don't play a part in my journey; they're not a factor. I mean, step 1 is already complete...and you people didn't have a damn say in it. What was step 1? Getting to FWA. I don't give a shit that FWA got the greatest fans or because it's got the nicest people, or because it has the best atmosphere. None of that shit matters at all to me. I didn't even come to FWA because that company was offering me the most money. The reason why I came to FWA is far more simple than any of those reasons. As I've said, I wanna be the best...and FWA is the best. I'm not saying it has the best wrestlers around... I'm just saying that it's pretty much recognised as being the best company in this business nowadays. Who tops the ratings every week? FWA: Who sells the most tickets per show? FWA. Who gets the most Pay-per-view buys? FWA. So, without a doubt...this is the place where a guy like me needs to be. Now, perhaps those people will try and take comfort in the fact that there are a lot of talented wrestlers in the gunfire; perhaps they believe that those men can stop me dead in my tracks. People may even think that they…could stop me. All those men, though…do you know what else they have in common?

Jack looks at the bartender with a snort of amusement as he reaches into his pocket and slams some notes down on the counter.

Jack The Clipper: "They all need a trim."

And with that, Jack leaps off his bar stool and walks out the door, leaving the bartender to examine the money.

Bartender: "What the fuck I'm I meant to do with pounds?"​

 

[Death Walker]

The Inevitable…

“Yeah I said it…







…and I’ll say it again. I’m back, muthafuckas…

And it feels great to be back. Ya know what I’m sayin’, Dark Guardian?”

“Yeah, I can see what you mean. And it’s good that your voice has returned, My Lord. However-”

“However?! Nah, nah, nah. There are no “howevers” at this point of the game.”

This scene is opening visually with a slow fade in of its surrounding as these voices carry on…

“Yeah… they thought that they could put an end to this voice. They thought they could remove the voice that inhabited… Darius Wright. But as you can see, I am able to speak again… and stab at hearts with my words.”

“That you are, My Lord.”

“Mhm…”

As the scene is still awakening to the dark silhouettes of forest trees and a perfect shade of dark blue. With the shadows, this black figure reaches for something below then hurls it off into the distance. It quickly becomes lost in the darkness as there's a calm silence present. But eventually… eventually, it is heard plopping into the waters from afar.

“You know… you really brought out the best of me. You made me become more than just a fighter seeking to cause pain. The pain that I have suffered, the pain that I retain because it brings me joy and satisfaction. You’ve made me… me and that is my true self. A side of me that I could never fathom to release into this cold, dark world. A side that the former Darius Wright could never find in himself. Even though… he could feel it burn from his core. And then you come along, teach me how to control the rage and send me to see Father. Then He teaches me true pain and hopelessness, the agony of defeat for which felt like an eternity of endless losses in fighting against Him. Someone much stronger, more painful… even darker than I thought I was. Now I walk this Earth as a demented and tortured soul ushering other souls into the dark afterlife. A curse upon those who lie to themselves and in the face of humanity… I AM DEATH! I AM…







Death. Walker.”

After a few seconds of silence, the other voice inhales deep then gently exhales from his nose before speaking.

“And this is the part… where we go our separate ways.”

Standing up from squatting down, Death Walker has his mask and cloak on. Out of all his recognizable features, the bone color from his skull mask shines just a little under the remaining moonlight. The dark guardian, however… (yes, there's gonna be some howevers after all. Ha ha ha ha ha!) is nothing more than an all-black silhouette in this dark forest.

Death Walker: “What do you mean… ‘we go our separate ways’?”

The Dark Guardian: “I know that you had lost your voice and even had your soul replaced but I think YOU can understand something as simple as separation.”

DW: “...and you say this with such certainty. Like you’ve been planning this all along.”

TDG: “Planning? No. Expecting? That is more accurate.”

DW: “Question:... is this even necessary? I mean we have been working great together as a team. Yeah, we took some losses but we gained from them as well. Opportunities… punishments… fears… respect, even carving out a groove in my legacy.”

TDG: “Come on, we both knew this day would be approaching at some point.”

DW: “Yeah but… flat out leaving me at a time like this? I mean… maybe I talk too much. Was it something I said?”

The eyes underneath his demon mask spoke the sarcasm into existence even with his smirk concealed. And as if it was bad enough to attempt to see The Dark Guardian under the veil of darkness, he was smirking but only trained eyes like Death Walker could catch it.

TDG: “...you know, you always had a knack for being witty at the right moments. I’m going to miss that about you as I step away.”

DW: “You don't have to do this. Stay… for the chaos, for our new growing family. We’ll stand side by side, raising our kingdom to the top and running off the opps.”

TDG: “But… I’m afraid I must, My Lord. For it is time that you spread your wings… and rain down flames like the fiery dragon that you are. I have other matters to attend to… while I am gone.”

As the sun peaks over the horizon of this wide-angle view, The Dark Guardian turns his back and begins to walk off. However, Death tries once more to deter his advisor’s decision.

DW: “DARK GUARDIAN!”

TDG: “...My Lord?”

DW: “Don't go… I need you, pal. I need you right here… next to me. I- I- I… don't know if I can carry all this, not the way that WE would carry it. The stresses, the losses, the rivalries… I need my best guy by my side, giving me his most rational wisdom. I’m hurting… and I’m hurting real bad, man.”

Death has his head lowered in perhaps shame or sadness and his mentor can sense this emotion radiating off his top pupil. He still turns his head around to get a look at what's actually going on.

TDG: “As a… Dark Traveler, you are your own master with no one else to hinder your growth. You… even though right now that you're taking care of your own business, you are the foreman of fear. A caretaker to carnage and a pathfinder of Purgatory. The last time I checked, an immortal being doesn’t have to be led the rest of their… hm, duration. You are the head of this new family that we built and you are more than qualified in guiding it into the next era. Give ‘em HELL, Death Walker. Show all of them… the way.”

And with that last statement, The Dark Guardian proceeds to walk further into the forest while also fading away in thin air. Walker lets out a deep sigh then turns to the edge of a 60 foot drop into a river below. He grunts a bit as he stands on one leg and chuckles in an amused manner. After some time, he does a cartwheel into a one handed handstand. Death Walker seems to enjoy being this close to danger or is it a case of him feeling comfort in his immortality? In any sense, he's taking on the big news that was dropped onto his head. Keeping himself from falling off, he returns to his feet and chuckles on his way back to his faithful disciples. He walks slowly through the wet leaf-covered and muddy terrain, sliding around the vast amount of shedding trees. Death hums a calm but dreadful little tune as cloak and hood flap from behind him.


**********************************************************


Cutting over into a new scene, there's a gathering of hooded cloaks in a mostly dark room. It's the Terrors of Darkness and they are inside one of their bunkers without the lights turned on in the middle of the day. The crowd grumbles as they exchange small conversations amongst one another. That eerie humming is the most notable noise at this particular time until…

DW: “Afternoon, my hellions and sinners!”

Once Death is able to acquire his disciples’ attention, he goes on to speak to them.

DW: “Now this isn't how I had pictured this day going but we must first get the larger situation out the way. The Dark Guardian, my teacher, my guide in this life and the afterlife. He's… he's gone, he has left us to get back to his vowed duties of Father. We are one leader down… which is… it's alright.”

Taking a few seconds to think on that truth, he then keeps talking.

DW: “BUT THE HELL WITH THAT! WE GOT ME! THE ONLY ONE FIT TO RUN THIS FAMILY! Your liberator… your Lord. And I will do everything in my power to protect those who protect the sanctity of this family. With Dark Guardian gone, we will be making changes to our structure. What does that mean? It means… being tested in your faith to me. It means being sent on missions that you should not fail. It means preparation after preparation… after preparation. We’ve started to shake things up, now let's continue to shock the world.”

Death Walker steps into the crowd of believers and asks…

DW: “Come, come… embrace me, my family. It is us against everyone else.”

He tilts his head back with eyes closed and takes deep breaths as the Terrors of Darkness do the biggest group hug. After a moment, Walker opens his eyes and looks forward over his family.

DW: “Alright… alright… Now who can operate a video camera? Show of hands.”

At least five of the disciples raise one of their hands and the rest look amongst themselves.

DW: “Good, I’m going to choooooooose uh… you!”

The demon points a finger at a lively young man as he lights up with excitement. When he sees the teenager jump up a bit with a smile, his eyes read of a smirk inside his mask.

DW: “I’m also gonna need scouts for reconnaissance… male, female, kids, elderly. I will train you all and rotate you out accordingly. Ok next, I’m going to have to appoint trusted lieutenants. Probably start with a small amount and then expand as needed. Those of you who feel you're the toughest there is… meet with me in the ring. Other jobs will be assigned throughout these next couple of weeks. So my advice is to train and exercise everyday, learn about strategies with me and soon the lieutenants.”

Death Walker creeps through disciples, entering inside a wrestling ring where a spotlight shines over it. Welcoming the volunteers, the others spread out around the ring as everything fades out into darkness.​

 

[Dubb]

BIG
BRYAN
BASTARD

in



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Spoiler: plain text version

The neon sign outside Al's Diner buzzed with a flickering intensity that cast a soft, warm glow on the quaint suburban street there in Matthews, North Carolina. A small, but bustling community just outside of the downtown Charlotte area. The gap between Fallout and Lights Out allowed Bryan time to travel back to his home state and more specifically to an area he was quite familiar with.

He had lost to Tommy Bedlam. A loss that certainly stung. If you ask him, he'd probably tell you otherwise. He'd tell you it was a meaningless match. He'd tell you there was no title on the line, so who cares. But deep down, Bryan Baxter hated to lose. Even in a match with low stakes. After all, he'd only lost one other singles match in his FWA career.

But now it was two.

The time off between shows gave Bryan time to put that out of his mind, however. But it also gave him more time for his mind to wander to the past... and perhaps the future.

He wanted to get in touch with Kristy. But she wasn't returning his calls. Or his text messages. Not that he could blame here. The last time he had seen Kristy Vance, it had been a night drenched in alcohol-fueled regret and a violent altercation that still haunted his dreams.

But the recent revelation that he had a daughter had turned Baxter's world upside down. Granted, he hadn't had a chance to talk to Kristy to confirm it, but the math certainly seemed to add up.

And so, despite knowing that Audrey was certainly not allowed to be messaging Bryan on her mom's phone when she wasn't around... she continued to do so, just because that's the Baxter in her.

Bryan had arrived early to the diner. His nerves gnawed at him like a pack of rabid dogs. This was probably a mistake. No, this was definitely a mistake. But it also was an opportunity.

With Kristy involved in Ground Zero, Audrey has been spending most of her time with her grandfather, Kristy's father - Arthur Vance back home in North Carolina. Somehow she managed to convince Arthur to bring her to the diner. He supposed that she had a way with words herself.

As Bryan sat at the corner booth, his massive frame nearly engulfing the red leather seat, he anxiously fiddled with his phone. He glanced up at the entrance with every passing second wondering when they would walk through those doors. As time continued to pass slowly and they hadn't shown up, he assumed that maybe they weren't coming after all. Arthur probably said no after all.

Finally, the tinkling of the diner's bell signaled the arrival of his unexpected guest. Bryan looked up and saw a man in his sixties with graying hair, accompanied by a small, energetic girl with brunette hair tied back in a ponytail. While the girl was all smiles, the man's face showed his worry. His gaze toward the booth where Bryan sat bore a look of reluctant acceptance. Bryan knew that look anywhere. That was Arthur Vance. And the little girl's resemblance to Kristy was uncanny. That was her.

Arthur led Audrey to the table, and she immediately broke into a wide grin upon seeing Bryan. She was a spitting image of her mother with deep dark brown eyes that radiated curiosity and a youthful energy that was impossible to ignore.

Standing up to greet them, Bryan stumbled slightly as he got up from the booth. “It’s really you!” Audrey exclaimed as her smile beamed.

“Uh, hi,” Bryan awkwardly waved. “You must be Audrey.”

“You know it!” the young girl responded confidently.

“Have a seat dear,” Arthur politely instructed his granddaughter. Audrey nodded and did so before pulling Bryan to the side.

“I gotta thank you, Arthur,” Bryan started but was quickly interrupted.

“Don’t,” the older man shook his head. “I’m not happy about this. And Kristy is gonna kill me when she finds out, no doubt.”

“Then why?”

“I think you know why.”

This seemed to be the confirmation Bryan had been looking for. “So… she…”

“She is,” Arthur nodded in affirmation.

“How sure?”

“I trust my daughter and I don’t think she’d readily admit it if it wasn’t true anyway.”

Bryan took a deep breath, placing his hands on his head. Sure, he thought it was the case but having it confirmed certainly hit him like a ton of bricks.

“I don’t like you, Baxter. Never did…” Bryan winced at the blunt honesty but understood where Arthur was coming from. “But I’ve always told Kristy that she needed to tell you. But the girl is just as hard-headed as you always were.”

Baxter couldn’t help but laugh. “True that.”

“But a little girl should have a relationship with her father. I believe that’s important. So, that’s why I agreed to do this when she asked. So don’t let me down, Baxter. You have twenty minutes.”

Bryan nodded his head, agreeing to the terms. Arthur gave them some privacy, heading to the diner’s bar and sitting down to look over a menu.

Meanwhile, Baxter took a seat in the booth on the opposite side of Audrey. The little girl was reading over the menu herself as he joined her. “See anything you like?”

“This is so cool!” Audrey exclaimed with jubilance.

Bryan looked around the modest diner and shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t seem too special to me. Food is decent and all…”

“No! Not the restaurant, silly. This - us being here… me sitting across from the FWA North American Champion… oh man… my friends aren’t going to believe this!”

“Ahh.. friends… good… I see you… have friends.”

“Duh, of course I have friends! Don’t you?”

Well, his best and really only friend has gone off the deep end and the other closest thing he has to a friend is off galavanting with The Nephews. So no, no really. “Yeah, sure, of course I have friends. Sorry… stupid question.” Bryan shook his head, beating himself up at his sudden inability to have a conversation.

“You two ready to order?” Their conversation was interrupted by the young blonde waitress.

“Uhh, yeah, I think so? I mean I am, are you?” Bryan asked, glancing at Audrey who fervently shook her head.

“What’s it gonna be lil’ lady?”

“I will have the cheeseburger with only ketchup… and can you add bacon to it?” Bryan smiled approvingly at his daughter’s choice to add bacon to her burger. In Bryan’s mind, no burger was complete without the addition of bacon.

“For you? Absolutely we can! And how about a drink?”

“Do you have chocolate milk?”

“Of course! And how about you, sir?”

“You know what… I’ll have what she’s having.” Bryan laughed at the joke no one else sitting at the table understood.

“You got it! I’ll get this order and it’ll be out in no time!”

Left alone with the young girl once again, Baxter’s eyes darted down to the table. Then out the window. Then back to Audrey. But her eyes had never left him. Her gaze kept fixed on her favorite wrestler. As if she didn’t want to let this moment pass her by.

Seconds passed by, feeling like minutes in awkward silence. Baxter struggled to find the words to say, but finally blurted out, “soo… uh… how is school?”

Audrey’s smile shrunk slightly. “School is lame.”

Bryan held back a chuckle. She wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, it does suck.” He smiled back at her as she giggled.

“But… like… uh, is there a subject you like or have a favorite… or something?”

“Uhhh yeah! Recess!” Once again Bryan couldn’t hold back his laughter. “But c’mon… I didn’t come here to talk about boring stuff like that! We gotta talk wrestling!”

Baxter lightly sighed. He had wanted to get to know more about his daughter, not that he didn’t admire her love of wrestling and specifically that she seemed to be a pretty big fan of him. So it wasn’t all bad. “Okay, fine,” he relented.

“Dude! How did you let that cowboy beat you?!”

“Really? That’s what you wanna talk about?”

“Yep!”

“He got lucky.”

“I dunno about all that.”

“It was a stupid match anyway. Like completely pointless. Neither of our titles were on the line. I wasn’t even trying?”

“It sure looked like you were trying to me.”

“Wouldn’t happen again.”

“Better not! Because we gotta talk about Lights Out! I gotta get you prepared for Jackson Fenix.”

Baxter rolled his eyes. He was certainly no stranger to Jackson Fenix or the Undisputed Alliance. For some reason, he just couldn’t seem to escape these buffoons. “Prepare me? I like your excitement Audrey, but if you think I need to prepare for Jackson Fenix, you don’t know much about Big Bryan Baxter.”

“Bastard!” She corrected him.

“Excuse me?”

“What? You’re Big Bryan Bastard, right?”

“Yeah… but not to you. Not right now. To Fenix… yeah, definitely. And like I was saying, I’ve beaten that immature little douchebag before and I’ll do it again.”

“You know he’s not the same guy who used to be friends with Jeremy.”

“Uhh, friends?? That jerk was never friends with Jeremy, first of all. And I don’t buy it. He’s still a piece of shit.”

Hearing the language coming from the booth, Arthur turns and gives a glare at Bryan, causing Baxter to slightly wince. “I mean… I’m just sayin’... the guy faked being Jeremy’s friend so he’s probably faking being a nice guy now too.”

“Ohhh I dunno, Bryan. He seems like he really felt bad about what happened to Jeremy. And I don’t really get his new friends but I suppose they seem nice.”

“Yeah… I don’t think you’re ready to understand those guys..”

“But I think Jackson wants this real bad. I think he’s gonna want to show he’s a new man and what better way than by taking out an old rival like you? And pick up the North American title along the way?”

“My title ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“I dunno..”

“Hey, who’s side are you on here?”

“Sorry! No, I'm rooting for you!”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it, right now.”

“I just don’t want you to underestimate this new Fenix, that’s all.”

Bryan shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not sayin’ I won’t take the match seriously. I’m gonna go out there and kick his scrawny ass. I’m actually lookin’ forward to it. I just don’t buy this ‘new guy’ BS he’s tryin’ to pool. He tricked Jeremy. Played him. He’s a conman and he’s got everyone fooled yet again.”

“A tiger don’t change its stripes.”

Bryan's expression grew somber as he contemplated his own words.

“Trust me… I think I know a thing or two about it..”

“What do you mean?”

“Ok, I guess I’ll tell you a little story to show you just what I mean. Alright… so.. I guess it was about eight years ago…”

“Me and your mom... well... our uhh… our friendship didn’t end the way I would’ve wanted it to. Things were said… things, uh… happened… that I’m not particularly proud of. Things I can’t undo. Things I can’t unsay. No matter how much I wanted to.”

Bryan, of course, was referencing the events that unfolded after his loss of the Elite Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Championship title. In a drunken rage, he had struck Kristy right in the middle of a bar that night. It was the last time he would ever see her.

That night, the world came crashing down around him.

“For so long… I thought I was such a big deal. I thought I was THE MAN. All because I was the champion of some little promotion that maybe a couple hundred people had heard of. That night… I realized I was a loser. Meanwhile… your mom… she was so smart… so beautiful… And after what I did… I knew… I knew that I didn’t deserve her. She deserved better. Uh, a better friend, that is. You know.”

“Wait, wait, wait… were you and mom… boyfriend… and… girlfriend???”

“Guess you figured it out… yeah we were.”

“Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

“But that’s in the past. A long. Long. Long time ago. I was a bastard then and I’m still a bastard now. Nothing has changed. Like I said. A tiger don’t change its stripes.”

****

Eight years ago, Bryan found himself alone. In just a few days, he had lost everything. He had no title. He had no Kristy. He had no friends. All he had was his addiction, his anger, and his regret.

He couldn’t show his face in the bars he frequented. So instead he found himself in an unfamiliar setting but doing something quite familiar. To him it didn't really matter. A bar was a bar. And much like any other bar, this one was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of alcohol. Bryan sat at the bar, downing yet another glass of whiskey neat. His appearance mirrored the state of his soul. His clothes hung off his broad frame like tattered battle flags, dirtied and wrinkled. His previously well-groomed beard had grown into a wild, ragged mass that framed his exhausted face.

"Bartender!" He shouted out as he slammed his empty glass down onto the bar. "Keep 'em comin’."

The young bartender sporting a mullet shot a concerned look over at Baxter. "Dude, how many have you had now?"

Baxter shrugged. "What's it matter."

"Because, I think I'm gonna have to cut you off."

"The fuck you are. Now gimme another one." Baxter clinched his fist as he slurred his words.

"Listen, buddy," the bartender said firmly as he stood his ground, "it's for your own good."

"No... YOU listen..." Baxter stumbled to his feet, kicking over the stool he was sitting on. "It's.. for YOUR own... good!"

The bartender reached under the bar, wrapping his hand around a baseball bat used in emergencies when patrons would get out of hand. "Look guy, you've clearly had enough. I don't wanna have to call the cops. And don't think I haven't heard about you. You've built quite the reputation."

"Yeah, then you... probably know... that bat ain't doin' shit to me."

"Woah, woah, woaaaaahhhh there fellas," a calming voice interrupted the tense showdown between Baxter and the barkeep. The stranger's presence was a stark contrast to the desolation that permeated the establishment. This man was exuding confidence and his smile was warm and inviting. Quite unexpected in such a gloomy setting. "I think cooler heads can prevail here. I don't think anyone here wants any trouble, right friend?"

Bryan scowled but began to feel at ease by the man's calming demeanor. He seemed to give in as he shook his head.

"Thanks Danny," the stranger nodded to the bartender.

"Just keep him under control, Jack."

"Sure thing!"

"This place sucks anyway," Bryan started to walk away from the bar, stumbling over his own feet. The stranger, apparently named Jack, was there to grab his arm.

"Easy there, big fella." Jack chuckled. "Here, let's have a seat and have a chat."

While Baxter wasn't necessarily interested in talking, he wasn't in much of a condition to be walking either. So he reluctantly accepted and slid into a booth. Jack sat across from Bryan.

"Hey, Sandy!" Jack called out to the young red-headed waitress. "Can we get a couple waters for my friend here."

Sandy eagerly nodded in approval as she quickly grabbed a couple of plastic cups and filled them up with tap water, bringing them over and setting them down in front of Baxter. "Thanks. You're a gem!" Sandy smiled and slightly blushed before walking off.

"You keep callin' me f-f-f-friend," Bryan stuttered. "I don't know who the fuck you are."

"Of course, my apologies. The name is Jack. Jack Felix."

****

"Wait, Jack Felix?"

"Yeah, what?"

"This guy you met back then was named Jack Felix and your next match is against Jackson Fenix? Are you just making this up?"

"What? Of course I'm not making it up! It was a long time ago and my memory sucks. So why not just call this douchebag a similar name to that douchebag."

"Okay, fair enough. Go on."

****

"And what's your name?"

"Bryan."

"Well, Bryan. It's great to meet you. I couldn't help but notice your situation and... well.. observe your current... uh, physical state. It would seem to me that you have come upon some hard times. Maybe a run of bad luck?"

"You think? Aren't you a fuckin' genius?"

"Hey man, I get it."

"I don't think you do."

"No, really I do! I've seen what the bottom looks like. And my dude, it looks a lot like you. But I looked a lot like you back then. But guess what... it's not too late. There's time to turn your life around."

"You don't fuckin' know me. Look at me. I'm a drunk. I'm a loser. I'm a bastard. I'm a piece of shit. I have nothing. I have no one."

"But you know what I see when I look at you? I see... a winner."

"Might wanna get your eyes checked, brother."

"No, no! It's true! You may look at me and see..."

"A tool? A suit?"

Jack ignored Bryan's insults and continued to offer a warm and inviting smile despite them. "Haha! You're a funny guy, Bryan. Sure, I may seem well dressed and have everything in order... but man, a couple years ago... I was a mess. I was filled with regret and self-loathing. I hated myself. And as a result, I was a huge dick. But one day... I looked into the mirror... and I saw that dick staring back at me.."

The drunken Bryan Baxter couldn't help but revert to an immature state, busting out into laughter at the mention of Jack looking at a dick in the mirror.

"Yes, the old Jack would've found that comment quite hilarious. He was really immature too. Loved dick jokes especially. But when I looked into the mirror... I didn't like what I saw."

"I BET! HAHAHAHA!" Baxter leaned over the table, just howling in laughter.

"I didn't," Jack nodded, his smile slightly fading and actually showing a bit of frustration with Baxter. "And I talked to myself in the mirror.. and I told that jerk in the mirror that I wanted nothing to do with him anymore. He couldn't control me. I can be whoever I wanted to be and I wanted to be a winner. And from that day on... I worked hard... and it wasn't easy... but I've turned things around and now look at me."

Baxter sat back up in the booth, wiping some laughter tears away from his eyes, trying to compose himself. "It's a great story, Jack. But I'm not you."

"No," Jack nodded his head in agreement. "You're not. That's true. But there's no reason you can't walk the same path I did. Don't let this be your life.” Jack handed Bryan a business card that bore the words, "Jack Felix: Motivational Speaker and Life Coach."

"I'm in town this week doing a seminar at the civic center. You should come check it out."

Bryan looked at the card before him. He thought of Kristy, the woman he had hurt and lost, the championship he had relinquished, and the depths to which he had sunk. He weighed his past against his potential future, the decision weighing heavily on his ragged shoulders.

But the darkness was not ready to release its grip on Bryan.

He ripped up the card and tossed it aside. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Jack Felix nodded, his warm smile never faltering as he stood up from the booth. He patted Bryan's shoulder, an act of understanding and compassion in the face of rejection. "I know how hard it can be to defeat your greatest opponent in life... yourself. Just remember, one small step can lead to big changes. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Jack walked away from Bryan, leaving him alone in his thoughts at the booth. Before leaving, Jack was kind enough to pay off Bryan's tab.

Even in his inebriated state, some of the words did ring true in his heart. But why bother? Why should he change? Why should he make things better for himself? He's already ruined the one good thing he had in his life... well two good things if you count that he also had previously ruined his friendship with Jeremy.

So that night, Bryan Baxter stumbled away from the bar, continuing the downward spiral of his life.

****

The next day, Bryan had put another awful night behind him. He had all but forgotten about the interaction with Jack Felix. Summoning the last dregs of his resolve, Bryan reluctantly rose from the lumpy mattress in the rundown motel on the worst side of Charlotte. He downed some Advil for his ringing headache and made his way back out into town once again. Still wearing the same ragged clothes, he began a very familiar pilgrimage.

A journey to the ABC Liquor Store.

Upon arriving at the liquor store, Bryan's bloodshot eyes fixed on a bottle of premium Scotch whiskey. His mouth watered at its sight. It had been his go-to for the last couple of months during his run with Elite Wrestling Federation. He certainly had enjoyed those championship paychecks. It also helped that his girlfriend was paying most of the rent. All allowing him to indulge himself with some of the fancier things… like premium alcohol.

He could already taste the notes of wood smoke and dry spice as he walked to the counter and placed the 750ml bottle down on the counter.

"My, my, someone's treating themselves today," the clerk remarked as he scanned the bottle.

"Yeah," Bryan said as he grabbed his wallet out of her stained pants. He pulled out his credit card and inserted it into the card reader. "I need a little pick me up this mornin'. Rough night."

"I hear ya, bud."

Bryan wasn't too interested in continuing the small talk, so he just waited until the reader made a loud beeping noise.

"Hmm, didn't go through. Why don't you try it again."

Baxter let out a breath of exasperation before he took the card out and re-inserted it. A moment later, the same beep occurred.

"Looks like your card is being declined. You got another one you can use?"

"Uhh," Bryan looked through his wallet, grabbing his debit card. "Here we go." He inserted the debit card into the reader.

Beep Beep Beep.

Bryan's frustration gave way to anger, and he demanded, "What the hell is wrong with this thing?"

The store clerk, his patience waning, calmly suggested, "I'm sorry bud, looks like it's saying insufficient funds."

"Ugh, shit."

"Might have to get something a little cheaper?"

Sighing, he swapped out his premium with a small 350ml Jim Beam. This time his card went through successfully. The clerk placed the alcohol in a brown paper bag, which Bryan snatched and exited the store with his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Immediately walking back out into the light of day, Bryan grabbed his phone. That stay at that piece of shit motel must've exhausted the majority of the rest of his funds.

He needed money.

Rummaging through the contacts on his phone, he found the one he was looking for. Bobby Blackstone. Bobby was the owner of Elite Wrestling Federation. He hit dial.

After a few rings, Bobby answered.

"Yeeellloo?" the raspy voice on the other end answered.

"Bobby, it's Bryan Baxter."

"Oh," Bobby's voice quickly changed. "What is it, Bryan?"

"Look, I could really use a booking on the next show."

"Bryan..."

"I know, I know. But I'm in a real tight spot right now. I could really use the money. I'll do anything. Job me out. I don't fuckin' care. I just need the paycheck."

A somber pause followed on the other end of the line, and then Bobby's voice came through, laced with regret. "Bryan," he said, "you know I can't do that. Not after what you did the other week. I can't have my company associated with you right now. It's bad for business to have a woman beater on my show."

Bryan clenched his teeth, his disappointment and frustration mounting. "I ain't no fuckin' woman beater, Bobby! And you know that! It was a fuckin' accident!"

"Well, that's not what is bein' spread around the circuit. I don't think anyone's gonna wanna touch you with a ten-foot pole, my man."

"This is bullshit, Bobby! Come on! I was your champ! I deserve to be booked! No one's gonna care!"

"Sorry, Bryan. Please don't call this number again."

And with that, Bobby hung up.

"FUCK!" Bryan shouted out as he clinched his phone tightly, almost throwing it to the sidewalk but somehow managed to stop before doing so. He wondered how in the world he managed to work for the one indy promoter who has an actual conscience.

As he continued down the sidewalk, his anger and despair churned within him. Then, a flier on a telephone pole caught his eye. It was an advertisement for Jack Felix's motivational show at the civic center, "Rising from the Ashes." Bryan's frustration boiled over, and he ripped the flier from the post, crumpling it into a tight ball and hurling it to the ground.

****

Bryan had nowhere to go. He was out of money. He couldn't afford even the seediest of motel rooms. He had no girlfriend to stay with anymore. And he certainly had no friends willing to allow him to mooch off them anymore.

There was only one place left he could go.

A place he had openly tried to avoid.

With a heavy heart and little else to his name, Bryan parked his dilapidated car outside his parents' suburban home. The very sight of the home reminded him of why he rarely visited anymore.

To his father, Bryan was a disgrace. His father had never approved of his choice to get into wrestling. His parents never once came to watch him at Elite Wrestling Federation. Not a single time. Not even when he won the title.

But he had nowhere else to go.

He slowly made his way up the walkway to the porch, walking up to the front door. He hesitated for a moment, stopping his right hand from knocking. He needed a moment to prepare himself for what he was about to hear. He knew his mother would welcome him with loving arms.

It was his father he was worried about.

George Baxter was a man of the people. Perhaps the polar opposite of his son. One of the most successful people in Hickory, a suburb of Charlotte, North Carolina. He had made his name in the real estate business and the fact that Bryan never followed in his footsteps was the source of their tension.

Finally, Bryan gave in and knocked on the door.

It wasn't long before George opened the door. He was a tall man with a commanding presence, his graying hair neatly combed, and his tailored suit exuding an air of success. His demeanor was stern, and his eyes carried a mixture of disappointment and frustration as they settled on his wayward son. George shook his head as he noticed the disheveled look of his son.

"What do you want?" George asked, his tone devoid of the warmth you would expect of a parent just seeing their child for the first time in months.

Bryan cleared his throat, swallowing his pride. "Dad... I need some help."

George's gaze didn't waver. Despite his son standing before him in clear need, he still did not offer any type of smile. "I can see that, Bryan. I could smell the alcohol on you before I even opened the door."

"Who is it dear," a sweet, matronly voice rang out from inside the house. "Is it those cable salespeople again? Tell them we are eating dinner!"

"Don't worry, hun," George called back into the house. "I'm getting rid of them right now."

Bryan's heart sank, "C'mon Dad."

"Don't come on Dad me. You made your choices. We all make our choices in life, Bryan, and it's up to you to live with them. I'm not here to clean up your mistakes."

"Yeah, I've made some mistakes..."

"SOME mistakes?"

"I've just hit a rough patch... I just need a place to stay for a few days while I try to get a job lined up and get my own place..."

George took in a deep breath, shaking his head. He certainly didn't approve of his son but it didn't mean he didn't love him. At the same time, he believed in tough love. He believed that Bryan should have to deal with the consequences of his actions. But seeing his normally stubborn, hard-headed, and strong-willed son at his doorstep, pleading for help... even George Baxter had a moment of compassion.

"Fine," he said sternly. "You can come in."

"Thanks, Dad," Bryan responded in a moment of rare honesty from Baxter. Walking into the living room and immediately felt a sense of ease come over his body. The stress he had been feeling seemed to melt away as he entered the home where he had spent his years growing up.

"Bryan? Oh my goodness is that you?!" His mother, Beverly, rushed in from the kitchen with a floral apron overtop her modest dress and her graying hair tied back in a tidy bun. She quickly embraced her son with a gigantic hug. "Oh, Bryan, my boy," she exclaimed, her voice filled with maternal concern. "You look like you've been through the wringer. Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

Bryan nodded, appreciating the kindness in his mother's voice. While his mother's compassion offered a glimmer of hope, he couldn't help but notice his father was still offering a harsh stare.

"Now Bryan," George paced the room, "this is, of course, only temporary. I don't want this to be about ‘I told you so…’"

Here it comes, Bryan thought.

"BUT... I have told you all along that this wrestling nonsense was a fruitless endeavor! That you were heading down a dangerous path! You gave up so much for that garbage. You were an All-State offensive lineman in high school... you could've gotten a scholarship... at a smaller college sure, but you could've gotten a college education nevertheless. And then... you could've joined me... we could've been Baxter & Son Real Estate. But instead... you threw it all away. For what? Look at you right now. You're a drunk and a disappointment to me and this family. To the entire Baxter name."

"George, that's enough," Beverly quietly pleaded with her husband.

"No, Bev, he needs to hear it."

"It's okay ma," Bryan said with defeat, "he's not tellin' me anything I didn't already know. What can I say, I'm a piece a shit. At least I know it."

"Oh, Bryan..." his mother responded sadly while George just continued to shake his head with his hands on his hips.

"You gotta do something about this, Bryan. No son of mine is going to be a deadbeat, you understand me? If you're gonna stay in our house again, there's gonna be some expectations."

"Like what?"

"Well, for starters - how about a shower and a shave? You look like shit. And if I'm going to be lining you up with some job interviews, you have to at least pretend to be professional. And that starts with the look."

"Interviews?"

"That's right. It's about time you got a real job, isn't it? You said it yourself, you wanted a place to stay until you got a job so you can get your own place? Well, then we're gonna get you a job. I will work my contacts and pull some strings. I bet I can get you a job with one of the contractors I know. But, son, there's only so much me and your mother can do. I know I can get you a job but it's on you to show that you're willing to make changes in your life. And if I were you... the first thing you need to do is lay off the alcohol."

The weight of his father's words hung heavily in the air. Bryan had no words to respond. Not at this moment anyway. Like he had told them moments ago, this was all stuff Bryan already knew deep down. Just like the words from Jake Felix. And at the same time, much like with Jack, he felt some anger. Some anger toward the words like deadbeat and drunk being tossed his way.

He hated that yet another person wanted him to change when he knew in his heart he deserved to be miserable.

Bryan wanted to speak up and argue with his father. But he knew it would only worsen the situation. And he definitely didn't want to end up out on the streets.

"Got it," was all Bryan could say. He grabbed his bags of what little he had and headed down to the basement which would become his temporary home. A shower and a shave were certainly in his future... but so was that bottle of Jim Beam he bought earlier in the day.

But first, he just wanted to relax. He plopped down on the couch in the basement, turning on the television.

"Feeling down? Feel like you've hit rock bottom? Do you feel like it's time for a change? Well... I CAN HELP!"

It was that damn voice.

Jack Felix.

"What the fuck?!" Baxter nearly tossed the remote at the television.

"For one week and one week only, come down to the Concord Civic Center for RISING FROM THE ASHES - as I, Jack Felix, tell you exactly how you can change your life... FOR THE BETTER... and like the phoenix, RISE up from those ashes and go from zero... to hero!"

"This guy just won't go away," Bryan muttered to himself as he turned the television off. "Everywhere I turn... there he is!"

But maybe... maybe it was time for a change.

****

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

Bryan had taken his father's advice to heart as well as his mother's insistence on a shower, a trimmed beard, and a fresh outfit. Tucking his XXL shirt into his khaki pants, Bryan looked into the mirror and for the first time in months, he saw a guy who kind of looked like he had his life together.

Granted not everything is as it seems. Obviously just taking a shower and putting on some new clothes didn't make Bryan a changed man.

Especially as he reached for a brown bag next to the sink which contained his Jim Beam bottle. He took a big swig of it and placed it back down on the counter.

Against his own better judgment, Bryan was actually doing it. He was going to drive to the Concord suburb and attend the "Rising From the Ashes" show that Jack Felix was putting on.

Arriving at the event, Bryan quietly made his way past a meet and greet going on in the lobby. Never the people person, he had no thoughts of mingling on that night (or any night). So he just snuck into the auditorium and took a seat in the back.

He was surprised at the amount of people who had turned out for the show. And the show itself was nothing short of a spectacle. The venue was bathed in a dim, ominous light as anticipation rippled through the crowd. An air of excitement hung heavy across the large room as the crowd murmured quietly, eager for the show to begin.

The show started off with, quite literally, a bang. A huge animatronic phoenix flew in from overhead, CRASHING into the stage! The audience collectively held its breath as the phoenix descended, its mechanical wings spreading wide before the impact. The collision was met with a burst of flames, engulfing the stage in a fiery display. An audible gasp went through the crowd while dramatic music began to play overtop the flames.

Then, from the wreckage and flames, Jack Felix emerged.

He rose slowly from underneath the stage, bathed in a soft, ethereal light. His dramatic entrance, rising up from the flames and ash was met with a standing ovation from the crowd. Even Bryan couldn't help but be impressed with at least the production value going into this.

As the crowd took their seats, Jack walked the stage. The crowd fell silent, ready to hang on to his every word.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice echoing across the venue. "When you look around this auditorium tonight? What do you see? A bunch of losers, am I right?"

A murmuring went through the crowd. A mixture of shock and awe as perhaps the crowd took offense to his words.

"Yes... that's right. Losers. And guess what, I used to be a loser, just like each one of you. It's okay! It's okay to admit it! I WAS A LOSER! I was immature. A degenerate! I was willing to do whatever it took to win! I lied. I cheated! I stole! I did it all! But you know what? I wasn't winning. I was losing. And not just when it came to my job. But I was losing at life."

"I was... a loser."

"So I wanna hear all you people say it! It's okay! Admit it! OUT LOUD! Say it... 'I'M A LOSER! I'M A LOSER'!"

Slowly at first, but then the chant grew louder and louder. Bryan remained silent as everyone around him began to do exactly as Jack instructed. The entire civic center was a roar with an "I'M A LOSER" chant.

"That's it! Yeah! You know they say admitting you have a problem is the first step to making a change and you all just took that first step. I'm so proud of each and every one of you losers!"

Felix smirked, his words were passionate and with conviction, clearly resonating somehow with the audience. But to Bryan, they felt cheap and hollow. Seeing the man he met briefly at the bar in action, somehow he found it hard to believe the words he was saying.

"So I'm sure you're wondering - Hey Jack, how do I stop being a loser and become a winner? How do I come back from rock bottom? How do I go from zero to hero? Well, let me tell you how it happened to me. You see... I once had a really good friend. Well, if I'm being honest... I never really saw him as a friend. He was a great guy. Maybe even the best guy. The kinda guy who wouldn't do anything bad to anyone. The kinda guy you trust with your life. But also... the kinda guy you can use. The kinda guy you make think is your friend so you can get ahead. And well, one day at work, I let him take the fall for something I did.. and well, NOW HE'S DEAD!"

Another audible gasp went through the crowd as some lady on the right side of the arena actually fainted after hearing the shocking twist.

"That sure escalated quickly, didn't it?" Bryan joked to the guy sitting beside him, but the guy gave a nasty stare in Bryan's direction and told him to "SHH." Bryan just rolled his eyes as Jack continued.

"And I never told anyone... but I knew the truth. It was my fault. IT WAS ALL MY FAULT! I had to live with it. In secret. In silence. And it ate away at me. It tore me up inside. The regret was quite literally killing me. WHY?! WHY?! WHY DID I LET THIS HAPPEN?!"

Jack dropped to his knees dramatically, tears rolling down his face. Some members of the audience also began to openly cry as well.

"JEROME! JEROME! I'M SO SORRY BUDDY! I WISH THINGS COULD'VE BEEN DIFFERENT! IT SHOULD BE ME! I SHOULD BE THE ONE WHO DIED! I WISH I COULD TRADE PLACES WITH YOU!"

Jack got silent, stopping tears almost as if he had the trained ability to start and stop them at will. He stood back up in the middle of the stage.

"And that was it. That was the moment I hit rock bottom. I literally wanted to die. But one day... I looked at myself in the mirror and I said... that doesn't have to be me. I have to put the past behind me. I told that jerk in the mirror to go away and never come back!”

Jack paused again, building up to a moment of realization.

“And quite honestly, I like to think Jerome visited me that night... and whispered in my ear... 'Jack... it's okay... it's okay buddy...'"

Bryan began to laugh while the rest of the auditorium cheered. He couldn't believe they were all buying this bullshit.

"That's right ladies and gentlemen... I am NOT a loser anymore! I AM A WINNER! And if I can rise from the ashes like the phoenix... SO CAN EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!"

The crowd erupted into applause, moved by Jack's story of redemption and renewal.

"Thank you all so much for coming out tonight! Please be sure to purchase a copy of my book as well the cinematic version of my story on DVD - written, directed and starring me, Jack Felix. And as a nice bonus, I'll stick around to sign some copies as well, for a minimal fee."

There it was.

That’s what this had all been about..

****

The rest of the gullible fools in the crowd may have eaten up Jack Felix's drivel, but Bryan was not among the believers. He couldn't help but shake the feeling that Felix's words were nothing more than empty rhetoric.

He stuck around after the show. Not to purchase one of the books or DVDs or to get an autograph. He wanted to see if there was more to this Felix than meets the eye.

Baxter couldn't help but notice, during a break in his autograph signings, that Felix was sneaking off to the side to chat with a larger, burly man. The two seemed to be sharing quite a laugh. Bryan eased his way over, leaning up against a nearby vending machine to hide his large frame from sight.

"What'd you think, Nathan? Another great show or what?"

"Haha," the other man, Jack's business partner Nathan, gave a hearty laugh as he slapped Jack on the shoulder. "You never fail to deliver, Jackie boy!"

"Yeah. It doesn't matter how many of these shows we do... these people eat this shit up!"

"Those idiots."

"Hey, Nathan! Don't call them that."

"Oh, my bad. Sorry."

"Yeah, you shouldn't speak so bad about these fools making us a shit ton of money!"

They both bent over in laughter while Baxter felt an anger developing in his gut.

"You know," Nathan pointed out, "Jerome was such a doofus but who would've thought that lame little bitch would make us so much money."

"I'll drink to that, my friend!"

Bryan had had enough, emerging from the shadows of the vending machines to confront Jack.

"I knew you were full of shit," Baxter said as he approached Felix, locking eyes with both men. "So what? You just roll up into towns across the country and push some phony ass story about how much you've changed... but really... you're just a piece of shit like me. Like the rest of the people in that crowd. Hell, I'd dare say you're the biggest piece of shit in this entire building right now."

Jack, taken aback by the sudden confrontation, bristled with offense. "Who the Hell are you to judge me? You're probably just jealous you didn't think of this genius idea first. Wait... I remember you... from the bar right? Hey Nathan, this is that fatass drunk guy I was telling you about. This fat piece of shit thinks he's better than us?!"

Once again both Jackson and Nate can't stop laughing, but Bryan was done with being mocked by these two ingrates.

Without hesitation, Bryan's fist shot out, connecting with Jack's nose. Blood spurted from the impact, and Jack stumbled backward, clutching his face in pain. Nathaniel rushed to his side with concern.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Jack cried out in pain.

Security quickly rushed over and grabbed Baxter. "Yeah! Lock him up! He just assaulted me for no reason!"

"Yeah, have them arrest me," Bryan dared, "I'm sure they'd love to hear everything I have to say right now."

Standing up and wiping the blood away from his nose, Jack realized that he had been beaten by Baxter at that moment. He couldn't risk being exposed. All this success and fanfare he had gained since "changing" wasn't worth it.

"Fine," he relented. "It was just an accident you guys. He's fine."

"You sure about that?" one of the officers expressed some concern.

"Yeah..." Jack slowly and reluctantly agreed.

Security released Baxter, who straightened up his dress shirt from the tussle before locking eyes back at Jack and Nathan. "You're right. I'm a piece of shit but I know other pieces of shit when I see them. I ain't sayin' nothin'... but you're done around here. Get out of this town and don't ever come back."

Jack Felix, still clutching his bleeding nose, shot a venomous glare at Bryan. He muttered a few choice words under his breath before turning and retreating with Nathaniel in tow.

****

"See, Audrey," Bryan's voice was dripping with bitterness as he leaned back in the booth, his eyes meeting the young girl's innocent gaze as he delivered his verdict on people's ability to change, "that's what I mean. A cheater is always a cheater. A scumbag always a scumbag. And well, a bastard is always a bastard."

Audrey, with her youthful optimism, refused to accept his cynical outlook. "I don't think so."

"Really? Who is the adult at this table? Me or you? I think I know a thing or two about this."

"But what about you? You changed? You're not the same person you were eight years ago."

"Am I? Sure, I've cut things out of my life... and people... some for the right reasons... some for the wrong ones... much like your mom. Only thing I've done worth a damn is stop drinkin'... but so what? Let's face it Audrey, I'm not a good person. I'm still a piece of trash..."

Bryan turned and looked at himself in the reflection of the diner window. It acted as a mirror, allowing him to see himself and it was in that moment that he saw who he truly was. Despite having come up from the bottom... making it to FWA... becoming a champion... he still was a self-loathing, bitter, and hopeless scumbag. More success and money hadn't changed that. He really was no different than 'Jack Felix.'

"This is a mistake."

"What?" Audrey asked with confusion.

"This. All of this. We shouldn't have done this. We can't do this again. I didn't deserve Kristy and I sure as Hell don't deserve this either. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

With an abruptness that surprised Audrey, Bryan stood up from the booth and left the diner without another word. Audrey was left disappointed as her grandfather walked over, sat down next to her, and wrapped his arm around her. “He hasn't changed one bit. Running away... just like before." He shook his head in disappointment as Audrey buried her face into his jacket.

Outside in the parking lot, Bryan found solace in the confines of his silver Toyota Tacoma. The keys were in the ignition but he hadn't turned them over yet. He just sat...

Staring...

Back at the diner...

Tears streamed down the tough exterior of his face.

He had thought he could make things better. He had foolishly believed that Audrey could just walk into his life out of the blue and suddenly he could not only have a daughter but also have a good relationship with her after almost eight years of nothing? If he believed that, he was clearly as gullible as the marks at the Rising From the Ashes show.

The reality of the situation had hit him hard. He wasn't ready for this.

He may not ever be.

Because Arthur was right. He hasn't changed. He's still a selfish son of a bitch. His championship belt still meant everything to him. It was something he was willing to do anything to keep.

So just like eight years ago... he left.

It was what was best for Kristy and now it is what is best for Audrey.

Bryan wiped away his tears and started the truck. He had Lights Out to get to. And if Audrey was right, and maybe Jackson Fenix truly was a changed man–if he wasn't the same guy who backstabbed his own friend in the past–it really didn't matter.
Because that just means he's gone soft.

The last time they squared off, the Buddy System beat the Undisputed Alliance at Back in Business. Nothing will change about that. Once again, Jackson Fenix will be the loser.

Because in the end... Bryan Baxter is still Bryan Bastard.

A tiger never changes its stripes.

****

 

[Mandalorian]

Alyster Black & Chris Peacock
are
FTN
in
Step Brothers

Spoiler

Or maybe not brother?

Sometime in December 2022
On a Private Plane over the Atlantic Ocean​

Alyster Black and Chris Peacock clinked their champagne flutes together. Soaring 35,000 feet over the Atlantic after coincidentally running into one another and sparking up a new friendship in Rio (at the site of Randy Ramon and Krash’s supposed deaths) seemed as good an excuse as any to celebrate, that and the bottle of Moët was complimentary and not about to go to waste.

The flight was a treat from Alyster, the current FWA World Champion who while not a stranger to excess wealth over the span of his long and legendary wrestling career, was enjoying a rather luxurious and plentiful paycheck as the World Champion. For Chris, after months of feeling isolated from his friends and family, it was a welcome treat to have someone actually do something nice for him. He was still jaded over the negativity hoisted his way in New Orleans at Lights Out.

Both men quickly downed the contents of their glasses, and each one was quick to remark on the experience.

“Tingly.” Chris muttered following a short gasp. “Although, I wouldn’t have said no to a pornstar martini…”

“They couldn’t have thrown a bottle of rum in this shitheap?” Alyster’s expression contorted into an ugly grimace at the taste of the sparkling wine, not that Chris could tell with the mask obscuring Alyster’s face.

“I think they’ve actually provided a few.”

Between them was a metallic rounded table welded to the floor. Chris leaned forward and found a latch on the side. The table doubled as a bar; two shelves were filled with a wide variety of alcohol, including a bottle of spiced rum that Alyster was quick to snatch.

“Ah, you’ve got a good eye Christopher. Why have we been drinking this piss, then?”

Chris winked as Alyster replenished their drinks. For a short while both men sat in silence. Feeling an obligation to create conversation with his new friend, Chris cleared his throat and said the first thing that came to mind. Funnily enough, an old friend was that thing.

“That Danny Toner turned into a right prick, ey?”

Although he agreed with the sentiment, Alyster was reminded of his own recent experiences with Toner, namely his defeat at Lights Out several weeks prior. The fact that he was the FWA World Champion now mitigated his disappointment over that experience, but he still took a moment to process Chris’s remark. He forced out a laugh, not wanting to express these feelings to Chris at such an early stage of their friendship.

“Oh, he’s the absolute worst. I hate that guy.”

“Yeah, fuck him.”

“Fuck him, fuck Tonerville, fuck the Warehouse, and fuck New York!”

“Hey now.”

“Sorry, I’ve had bad experiences there.”

“How would you feel if I said fuck Australia mate?”

Alyster shrugged his shoulders, “Indifferent. You know who else I hate?”

“Iiiiiiiiiis iiiiiiiit Devin Goooooooooooooooooolden?”

“Get out of my head.”

A smirk forms over Chris’ mouth and he begins to sing, “In your heeeeeeeead, in your heeeee-e-e-e-ead!”

The song earns him a light punch in the arm from the man sitting across from him.

“Fuck that arrogant fuck and those fucking idiots from that shithole New Orleans. Honestly, winning the briefcase in front of them felt so fucking good, man.”

The FWA World Champion watched as Peacock laughed into his glass before taking another sip. It was another stark reminder of Lights Out for Alyster, but he was not about to blame Chris for being excited about his own victory. Despite other people’s assertions, Alyster was impressed with the gracious manner in which Chris had taken his own loss in the Battle Royal, falling short of holding the championship that sat across Black’s lap.

Again, Alyster found himself struggling about what to say. There was no point in bringing down the high that Chris was on. What Alyster took as general happiness was actually pure excitement and enthusiasm for this new partnership on the part of Chris Peacock. He had found a peer. A friend. Of course Alyster felt the same. Black nudged Chris in his arm, causing him to almost spill some of his drink.

“Oi, fuck Golden Rock.”

“Yeah, fuck Golden Rock.”

Without realising, both of them found themselves staring out of the window of the plane at the same time. They could see the world below them and they both knew that it was theirs for the taking. If they wanted it.

“Mate, if you and I were to ever team we’d destroy every other team going.”

“Absolutely, we’d fuck up Golden Rock, we’d fuck up TxR, and we’d kick the shit out of the Nephews.”

“Fuck the Nephews!”

Chris beamed, smiling from ear to ear. This was it.

“Fuck the Nephews.” He repeated before jumping to his feet.

Alyster was quick to join him, also springing to his feet. Both men stared at one another for a few moments before nodding in understanding.

“Let’s play a game, okay, on the count of three without thinking, say the first thing that comes to your mind. One…two…three! What’s your most quoted television show?”

“The Sopranos!”
“The Sorpranos!”

“What’s the purpose of the cardboard roll that wrapping paper comes on?”

“To pretend it’s a lightsaber!”
“To pretend it’s a lightsaber!”

“What’s your favourite Pokemon dick joke?”

“Gulpin deez nuts!”

“I…uh… don’t really get that one. Sorry to break the rhythm we had going there, bud. Okay, I got another one. Funniest bodily fluid?”

“CUM!”
“CUM!”

Alyster was bewildered, practically shaking from excitement.

“What?!” He screamed.

Chris, in the same state, was wide eyed and grinned from ear to ear, “Did we just become best friends?”

The masked man nodded his head, “Yup!”

And the rest, as they say, is history.

September 2023
On a Private Plane over the South Pacific Ocean​

Alyster slumped down in his seat and pressed his head against the cold glass window of the plane. In the distance he could see a landmass and he grumbled. Down there was home. Not the home he’d made in sunny San Dimas, but the home he’d abandoned over twenty years ago. The home he’d avoided as hard as he possibly could; one that he hated returning to.

A home he hated was still a home nonetheless, and this home played host to his family. A family he’d not seen in over two years. A family who had heard about his recent exploits and offered him a place where he could recover in peace.

Melbourne.

The last time he’d visited home was during the FWA Australia tour, the same tour that on Fallout 007 he became the FWA X Champion and embarked on the most prolific championship run in recent FWA history. A run that he was hoping to eclipse with his latest championship victory.

Alyster turned to look across the aisle, sitting adjacent to him was his tag team partner, the current FWA World and World Tag Team Champion, Chris Peacock who sat hunched over, eyes closed, snoozing.

Chris was actually the reason why they were flying into Australia. It was Chris’ actions that injured Alyster. The tackle from the top of the chamber pod in the Steel Roulette match at the FWA 18th Anniversary Show. Chris and Alyster plunged from nearly 15 feet and crashed straight through the ring. Alyster took the brunt of the impact, leaving his body heavily injured, and Chris was able to retain his FWA World Championship, leaving Alyster’s mind in need of recuperation.

Why he thought that he could achieve either in Melbourne was anyone’s guess. But Chris had pushed for them to go Down Under and Alyster was in no mood to argue. With what FTN had to face on the horizon they could not afford to be on different pages. It didn’t matter how confident Chris was that they would defeat Cyrus Truth and Konchu Hao, Alyster knew this was a far taller task than the disco enthusiast had painted.

An hour passed, filled with self-doubt and repressed memories surfacing. Anxiety was building in Alyster, he could feel his stomach turning. They were an hour away from Melbourne, an hour away from despair.

Alyster reached across the aisle and shook Chris awake.

“Chris, buddy, wake up man.”

Chris stirred, his voice was hoarse and his eyes were heavy and remained closed. “What? What do you want?”

“It’s not too late you know, we can divert to the Gold Coast, hit up the theme parks and hang out on the beach then go murder Cyrus and Konchu after developing a sweet tan.”

“You complain about the Gold Coast all of the time, anyway. We’re going to Melbourne, I want to meet your family.”

Alyster groaned in despair. It was a big enough deal that Alyster allowed him into his house in San Dimas. That was something reserved for the people Alyster was closest to. This was another step entirely. He scrambled around in his mind for reasons to prevent this current course of action. “Yeah but why? Why do you want to meet them? They’re awful. They hate wrestling.”

“You met my family.”

“Mine’s worse. You don’t understand how lucky you are. You grew up with a dad who wrestled, you have a brother who wrestled, you have a nephew who worships you as a hero. My parents didn’t even come to the MCG to watch me win the X title.”

“My dad is dead, my nephew is at some bullshit internet camp and my brother is a fucking alcoholic loser.”

“But-”

Chris yawned loudly, it was so exaggerated that Alyster could have sworn he was being sarcastic. Alyster was correct, as Chris was not interested in Alyster’s excuses. They were doing this. “I’m going back to sleep, wake me up when we land.”

Alyster sighed before returning to his prior position, forehead pressed against the cold glass, wishing he was flying anywhere else than back home.

In the rental car - the same day
Melbourne, Australia​

“Jesus-fucking-Christ!” Chris recoiled, hiding his face in his hands as Alyster made a left turn at a busy intersection not too far from the airport.

“Would you relax, please?”

“Relax? How can I relax? You’re driving on the wrong side of the road!”

“I can’t believe this. You’ve visited Australia before. You know I’m driving on the right side of the road.”

“You’re driving on the left! It’s wrong! It’s so wrong!”

“For fuck…please just close your eyes until we get there.”

Save for the occasional peering out of the window, Chris did as was instructed for the remainder of the journey to Alyster’s parents’ home. Even though Alyster had said it was “right near the airport”, Chris had closed his eyes in terror for almost an hour by the time he dared to keep them open again. He looked across at Alyster, who was focused on the road.

“Are we there yet?”

“No.”

“How much longer?”

“You’re the one that wanted to come here, Chris. Either change your mind or get the fuck over it. I don’t want you getting too comfortable either, alright? Don’t go calling my parents ‘Mum’ and ‘Dad’ or some weird shit like that.”

“I wasn’t going to…”

“I mean it. Not even if there’s a fire.”

Confused and concerned for his own welfare, Chris scrunched his eyes shut once more and ducked his head down between his legs. He waited for this journey from hell to end.

The Black Residence
Melbourne, Australia​

“Dude, will you cut it out?” Alyster batted Chris’s hands away from the door as the latter smashed it with his knuckles in the tune of ‘Last Night a DJ Saved My Life’. Chris was dismayed, but agreed to stop when he heard voices coming from inside the large house and he saw a light turn on behind the door. “Look, it isn’t too late. The Gold Coast really isn’t that bad.”

“Stop trying to get out of this. We’re doing it. It will be good for m-us. It seriously can’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be, Aly.”

“It is going to be worse, much fucki- HEY!”

Alyster’s outburst was due to the door swinging open in front of the two of them and the reveal of his parents. Mr. Black was a very tall and intense-looking man in his early 60s. His hair, whilst thick, was greyed and his face bore wrinkle lines one would only get from wearing an almost-permanent scowl. Mrs. Black’s hair was dyed blonde and recently styled, and she stood shorter than both Alyster and Chris. The thick layers of make-up on her face resembled a mask not unlike the one that Alyster would wear most of the time.

“You’re late. We were expecting you an hour ago. We already ate.”

Mr. Black’s blunt and scathing comment matched a man of his stature. Alyster immediately felt vindicated about how excruciating this trip was going to be, but this was soon overtaken by a rush of panic. His father always had this effect on him. He took a deep breath and then looked at his mother, who seemed slightly happier to see him, but this was still not much.

“You’re not looking so good, either. We can guess what happened to you, but maybe you should come in. Who is your friend here?”

“Hello to both of you as well.” Alyster tried his best not to mumble, he didn’t want to betray just how dismayed he felt, “This is my partner, Chris. We’re the-”

“Ha, about time you found yourself someone. We’ve been saying for years how you need to settle down and start acting like a responsible adult. Clyde Black. Pleasure to meet you, Chris. This is my wife, Constance.”

Clyde extended a hand in Chris’s direction and the FWA World Champion enthusiastically shook it, smiling. Alyster rolled his eyes. Chris then leaned forward and accepted Constance’s welcoming embrace.

“Come here, sweetie. Now, before we welcome you into our home, there’s something that we need to know. You’re not one of those awful wrestling types, are you? We’ve never supported our son’s ridiculous hobby and it would please us no end to know that his partner feels the same. Maybe you could even knock some sense into him.”

“Uhhh…” Chris stuttered for a moment as he thought about his answer. Not being fans of wrestling, Alyster’s parents had clearly assumed him to be another kind of ‘partner’ to their son. He knew that the answer to that question would dictate how the time spent in Melbourne before he and Alyster flew off to Africa would go. Both FTN members looked at each other and the look in Alyster’s eyes made it clear that he wanted Chris to tell the truth. However, Alyster knew what the furling in the corner of Chris’s mouth meant. As such, he knew instantly what Chris was going to say. “Me? No, I’d never get involved in something like that. It’s just… senselessly barbaric, isn’t it?”

The senior Blacks cheered and Clyde clasped his hands together proudly. He quickly put an arm around Chris and ushered him over the threshold and into the family home, followed closely by Constance and leaving Alyster outside all alone for a brief moment. Alyster grumbled as he collected all the bags and followed them inside, groaning as he struggled to carry them all and close the door with his injuries. A slight breeze helped his efforts but the door slammed shut loudly, eliciting the ire of his mother.

“Stop complaining over there. If you’re hurt, you only have yourself to blame.” She spat from across the hall.

Alyster scoffed. The man to blame for his injuries was currently schmoozing with his father. He considered unveiling the truth to his parents and pulling the rug out from underneath Chris, knowing that it would mean the end of their stay here as one thing his parents did not tolerate - especially his father - was lying. He watched Chris have a mini-tour of the entrance hall and decided that he would allow the ruse to continue for the time being. After all, there was sport in knowing that he could ruin the trip at a moment’s notice. Alyster beamed with glee at the very thought of burning down this charade. But that glee was short-lived.

A loud and fast scratching against the hardwood floor was then heard, followed by a bark. A Blue Heeler energetically rounded the corner from the kitchen and jumped up at Chris, taking him by surprise. He petted the dog and looked up at Clyde. “Who is this guy then, huh?”

“This is Aly.” Clyde answered, beaming with pride.

“You called the dog ‘Aly’?” Alyster chirped from across the room, his expression was downcast as dejectment washed over him like a thousand children finding out that Santa isn’t real.

Alyster’s parents were blissfully ignorant, or blatantly ignoring their son’s reaction to the dog’s name.

“We sure did! We love our little Aly, don’t we?”

Constance pouted in the direction of the dog. Even in full arse-kissing mode and whilst being entertained by the very kind and trusting dog, Chris realised how messed up this situation was. He saw the hopeless and betrayed look in Alyster’s eyes. It was for situations like this that Alyster wore his mask and Chris knew how vulnerable he felt without it. Now was the time for him to stand up to his best friend, but he remained quiet.

“But… I’m Aly.”

Turning around and walking into the kitchen, Clyde shook his head and spoke under his breath. “You’re a damn disappointment…”

The only noise that could be heard was the excited pants coming from Aly (the dog) as Chris stroked his head and neck. Constance seemed aware of how hurtful Clyde’s comment was but then cleared her throat, trying to sound as proper as she could as she turned to Chris. “Now, why don’t you two get settled in? You can both stay in Alyster’s old room, but Clyde has converted some of it into a home office. There’s still room, though. Then Chris, why don’t you come back down once you’re ready and I’ll rustle you up something to eat.”

Chris shared Constance’s smile with an uneasy one of his own, and watched as Aly followed her in the direction of the kitchen. It was then just Alyster and Chris left in the entrance hall of the house and Chris knew at this moment exactly what Alyster meant with regards to his parents’ treatment of him. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. It can’t all be that bad, man.”

Chris took both his and Alyster’s bags and carried them up the stairs. Alyster sighed heavily and then followed him. “Fuckin’ Reagan Cole over here...”

“Alright, thank you! G’day! I mean… g’night!” The sound of uproarious laughter came from downstairs as Chris opened the door to enter Alyster’s bedroom. Chris sighed and flicked the lightswitch, waking Alyster up from his sleep on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed which was up against the far wall.

Alyster turned his back on Chris and attempted to go back to sleep as Peacock began to shuffle his feet around on the carpet, throwing down some dance moves. A couple of glasses of wine with Alyster’s parents had loosened him up somewhat. He swung his arm out and knocked the desk lamp over. Scrambling to put everything in Clyde’s home office back how it was, Chris ended up making more of a mess. Plus lots of noise.

“I’m trying to sleep; can you shut the fuck up and turn the light off?”

“My bad, bro. I just love the setup here. There’s just so much room for activities! Hey, who is this?”

On the desk and slightly obscured by some of the messed up paperwork was a picture of Alyster’s family. Chris obviously recognised a maskless and grumpy Alyster and his parents, but there was another person next to Alyster. A very pretty woman beamed and rested her hand on Alyster’s shoulder.

“That’s my sister.”

“Hey, I know your parents think we’re fucking but man, the things I would do to her. How the fuck is your ugly ass related to that?”

“Fuck you.”

That was not just for the banter about his sister. That “Fuck You” was for making him come to Australia to see his shitty and unsupportive parents and then spending the entire evening kissing their arses. Again, Alyster could just go downstairs and tell his shitty parents the truth about who Chris actually was and end this charade. His contemplation was interrupted by a hard thump to his shoulder as he laid down.

“What is your fucking problem? Was what you did in the chamber not enough for you? Leave me alone.”

“Let’s spar. Come on! The Connection used to do shit like this all the time. We’re fighting at Lights Out, so how about a preview? Huh? Huh? HUH?”

Each utterance of “Huh” drilled deep into Alyster’s soul, infuriating him beyond belief. The typically masked man was at his wits end with his drunken partner’s behaviour.

“Fuck The Connection. I’m fucking hurt dude, and as dumb as this sounds, I don’t want my dad coming up here and telling us off for making noise. I didn’t think you wanted them to know you are a wrestler, anyway.”

“They’ll think we’re having sex, dude. Hey, maybe I can show you some of the things I’m going to do to your sister? Come on, man!”

The bait wasn’t working. Defeated, Chris walked over to the lightswitch and turned it off. Using the scant visibility available, Chris climbed up onto the top bunk and flung himself down onto the mattress. Alyster thought that the bed was going to collapse.

“You’re probably right, anyway. We’ve got those fucks in The Coven before Lights Out, anyway. We need to win that, man. Can’t go into Lights Out against Konchu and Cyrus looking like a couple of little bitches.

“Alyster, we can’t let that miserable bastard become a Triple Crown. No matter what, we can’t be the ones responsible for letting that happen. I’ve worked too hard putting that asshole in his place to let him take this away from us now.

“I know that you said earlier that they were going to be tough just as a way to convince me not to come here, but you were right. We can’t go into this one complacent. Let’s use this time to think about how we’re going to tackle this. Sound good?”

Chris expected a response but none came. He listened carefully and heard the sound of Alyster sleeping, gasping high pitched snores, though in his drunken state he was blissfully unaware that his partner was merely pretending to slumber.

The FWA World Champion looked up at the ceiling and thought about what must be going through his partner’s head. Being around his parents had plunged Alyster into an anxiety-induced depression. Their effect on his mood was evident and it downright pissed Chris off.

It was at this point that inspiration struck Chris, and he began to formulate a cunning plan.

The Next Morning​

Alyster woke up and immediately groaned. This was for several reasons. Initially this was due to the physical pain his body was still in after being driven through the ring at the Anniversary show. Secondly, and more prominently, this was because of the situation that he had found himself in. Chris Peacock was getting along swimmingly with his parents which sicked Alyster to his core.

He pulled himself up from the bottom bunk of the bed and saw that the top bunk was empty. The nimble footwork of Chris Peacock had allowed him to escape the bedroom/office without waking his partner up. Alyster threw on some comfortable clothes from his suitcase and opened the door. Instantly he was greeted by a cacophony of laughter, emanating from downstairs, but the loudest of laughs belonged to his tag team partner. It was safe to say that Chris was still ingratiating himself to Alyster’s parents.

There was a moment of awkward silence when Alyster emerged from the entrance hall into the kitchen. Clyde ducked his head down over the plate of food in front of him and Constance shuffled her chair further along the kitchen island. Alyster then saw that Chris was at the stove with his back to the rest of the room. “Alright then, who is ready for another omelette?”

Alyster was sure that they were just talking about him, but he bit his tongue and continued to play along as nicely as he could.

Peacock spun around with a full pan and he locked eyes with Alyster. The black apron Chris was wearing was emblazoned with the words “THIS IS MY HOUSE” and he chuckled awkwardly upon seeing his tag team partner.

Constance raised a dainty finger up, chirping for Chris’ attention. “I think that omelette was for me, Chris, sweetie.”

Barely taking his eyes off Alyster, Chris shuffled the omelette down from the pan onto the empty plate in front of Constance. “So, how are you this morning, my love?”

Alyster felt a chill crawl down his spine as Chris addressed him. Still he forced a smile and continued on his seemingly merry way. “I’d like an omelette.” He mumbled through gritted teeth.

Before Chris could answer, Clyde slammed his fist down on the surface in front of him. “Your mother’s second omelette was the last one, alright? Chris very kindly made us a special batter or mixture or whatever you call it and we’ve eaten it all. He got up very early this morning; we heard him shuffling around down here. Me, your mother and Aly down there.”

Alyster looked down in disgust at the dog who was scarfing down broken pieces of ham, egg, chives and cheese from its bowl, unaware of the animosity in the room.

“I can make some more, although I’m not sure I have the ingredients left for the special batch I just cracked out. Or, Alyster could make some, he’s really goo-”

“Don’t make excuses for him, Chris. You’re already doing him enough of a favour by being with him. Why don’t you go and freshen yourself up, son? We’ve got a busy day of sightseeing ahead!”

Unbeknownst to Alyster, Chris wanted to rip Clyde’s head clean from his shoulders. He knew that Alyster’s father calling him “son” would have driven a stake into Alyster’s heart. However, the more he thought about it, the more conflicted he felt about his plan to get Alyster’s revenge on his parents. Since his own father’s passing (in fact before that due to his Alzheimer’s), Chris Peacock did not have a father figure in his life. The closest to it was Allen Price, which should give you an idea of the level he was pitching at.

But seeing how Clyde and Constance treated Alyster infuriated him. They weren’t like that with Chris, and his parents weren’t either when they were still alive. Was Alyster the problem? The miserable fuck that was hanging over the atmosphere in the kitchen like a bad smell? It couldn’t be. No, Chris was right to press on with his plan. It was ironic that he hated the Nephews but was playing his own real-life game of 4D-Go. Or he assumed he was, anyway.

Chris not standing up for him for the second time brought Alyster just short of the point where he wanted desperately to blurt out Chris’s secret. He decided that he would allow it to go on for a little while longer. From the conflicted look on Chris’s face, he could tell that Peacock was struggling to keep the facade up. That was amusing to Alyster; the same way you would watch a friend at school crumble when being scolded by a teacher. Another reason he decided to stay quiet was actually out of appreciation for Chris, because he was at least fifty percent sure that Peacock had done something terrible to those omelettes.

The only sounds that were heard in the kitchen was of cutlery clattering against plates as Clyde and Constance ate and the dog devoured the omelette from his bowl. Alyster shot a disappointed look in Chris’s direction before storming out of the kitchen. Regret began welling up inside Chris and weighed his body down, leaving him feeling like he was sinking into the floor. It was not unlike him to play pranks on people, but it was different when Alyster was the victim.

This was not just any prank either. Chris knew how tense and delicate the situation between Alyster and his parents was. How reluctant Alyster was to come to Melbourne in the first place was testament to that. But what was coming off as a trick was actually going to be a treat for Alyster. His parents were not going to undermine him again when Chris was through with them. Whilst Clyde and Constance were awful people, Chris Peacock knew how to be positively despicable. Tampering with breakfast was just a tease compared to what was to come.

Before he went through with the cunning and devious crescendo to his plan, he had to be sure. Sure that they deserved what was coming to them, and sure that what he was planning would vibe with his currently disgruntled partner.

“So, I had an idea. I did a little bit of googling this morning - thank you for the Wi-Fi password by the way, and I saw that there’s a disco bar right here in Melbourne! You have to let me take you! It would be really fun for the four of us to spend some time togeth-”

“I’m not really sure your other half would enjoy that.” Constance interrupted, “But we’d love to spend the evening with you. Wouldn’t we, Clyde?”

“You betcha! We wouldn’t want that miserable prick ruining everyone’s fun. Let him stay here and wallow, while we enjoy ourselves. I’m positively lookin’ forward to it, Chris.”

Not wanting to spend any time with the son that they fail to support in any sense of the word was another nail in their metaphorical coffin. It was not enough, though. Chris needed more, and he was going to get it later that night.

That Evening
Disco Truck Stop Club - Melbourne, Australia​

Both Clyde and Constance looked on impressed as Chris Peacock cut some moves on the dancefloor. They weren’t alone as a circle had formed around him. This usually happened whenever he strutted his stuff on the dance floor. Neither of the Blacks particularly liked the Bee Gees, but they were definitely catching some ‘Night Fever’ from what they were witnessing.

Once the song had finished, Chris stood still in pose for a few seconds longer and was then mobbed by the crowd. Some of course knew exactly who he was and what he did for a living and despite being wowed by his dance moves, they knew exactly the kind of things he was capable of. Even though his best friend and tag team partner was from right here in Melbourne and that should win him favour with them simply through osmosis, that was not necessarily the case. Many felt that Alyster should have won at the Anniversary Show.

Others of course still were under the incorrect and naive assumption that FTN was going to be coming to an end sooner rather than later and that it would absolutely be because of Chris turning on Alyster. Little did they know that Chris was planning to give Alyster an unforgettable gift, one that would solidify their already unbreakable bond even more.

Peacock made it through the crowd and joined Alyster’s parents. Aly the Blue Heeler jumped up at him and rested his paws on Chris’s legs in appreciation for his ability and just general excitement to see the man who had been taken in so quickly by the Black family. Chris reached in between Clyde and Constance to grab his pornstar martini.

“That was some show there, Chris. Worked up a real sweat on you, didn’t you?” Clyde patted Chris’s back and didn’t seem to mind that his shirt was drenched in sweat.

“You’re a dancer for a living, you say?”

Chris nodded as he sipped his drink. He watched as Alyster’s parents seemed impressed by this, proud even.

“Well, so long as you’re not doing that stupid wrestling shite that our lad has gotten himself into. It is primitive, fake nonsense if you ask me.”

There was a silence as Chris once again wanted to punch Alyster’s father out. Still though, Clyde felt it necessary to continue this current trail of thought.

“It might surprise you Chris that I actually used to be into that kind of thing when I was a nipper. That was when the real tough guys and girls fought. Not this fancy crap nowadays with these fuckin’ losers talking about their feelings and people with these stupid gimmicks and what have you.”

“Alyster is really good, though-”

“It is really sweet that you support him, Chris. It is just that we don’t really like to hear about what he gets up to with work. It is bad enough when our friends tell us about it and we have to pretend to be interested. He won a big match at the MCG, apparently. We thought about going, but well, he could have embarrassed us!”

“The boy is a big enough disappointment as it is. It is a miracle that he found someone like you, to be honest. Imagine where he’d be if he didn’t.”

Chris actually took a moment to imagine where Alyster would be if it were not for FTN. He’d probably still be one of the best professional wrestlers in the world and immensely popular. It was just that these two chucklefucks wouldn’t know a good wrestler or even a good person if they slapped them in the face. Now, Chris Peacock was by no means a good person, but he was a very good wrestler… and he really wanted to slap them both in the face.

“What do you do for work, Clyde? I saw your office in the bedroom.”

“I’ve worked for large companies my entire career. I go in, find out what isn’t working and I get rid of any deadwood. I pride myself on being a good judge of character.”

“Really now? What do you think about me?”

“You’re alright, son.”

Offering his bottle of beer upwards to his prospective son-in-law, Clyde grinned as Chris clinked his martini glass against it. This was a disingenuous act by Peacock, but a necessary one to maintain the current course of his plan that he was almost certain that he was going to execute to completion.

“Constance? What about you?”

“Well, Clyde has always looked after me. I’ve done some bits and pieces in the past - tried running my own business for a while. Never really has worked out, though. But most of the time, it is just me and Aly and we support Clyde whenever he needs us! What is important to me is that the house looks nice and we’re the envy of everyone on the street.”

Chris nodded his head before looking up at the ceiling. He inhaled and closed his eyes, mulling the situation over in his head for a few moments.

It was blasphemy that the parents of the man who won the X Championship in the largest arena in his home country, in front of nearly 100,000 screaming fans, did not come out to support him. It’s even worse that they apparently have no clue what he’s accomplished since. If they did, they’d known exactly who the man in front of them was.

Did they know that Alyster Black masks were semi-regularly the highest selling item on FWAshop.com? Did they know he was the champion of the world? Have they ever seen him wrestle before?

These were questions that Chris knew the answer to, and the answer was vile, it was sickening and it was not something he could allow to go unpunished. In Chris’ mind Alyster Black was just about the second best wrestler in the world, and for anyone to doubt that was sacrilege.

Their disrespect would not go unpunished.

But before an epic climax, Chris would have to continue lulling the Blacks into a false sense of security.

“Come on Constance, let’s dance.”

Chris took the ageing mother of Alyster Black by the hand and led her to the dancefloor, winking over his shoulder to Clyde who was busy nursing a beer and petting his pathetic little dog. As Chris twirled Constance around on the dance floor, he looked into her eyes. Inside them, he saw the soul of a woman who was concerned about nothing other than image and perception (and the stupid dog). All that mattered to her was that people thought that she was special, when her accomplishments would actually suggest that she was anything but.

Of course she had failed in any sort of venture she had entered into; any success she would have was likely solely due to her husband. In fact, there was no better way to describe her than a clout chaser. She constantly attempted to make herself stand out by just being different, but if you pulled back the heavy mask made of make-up, you’d see nothing more than a mewling kvetch who would complain that they were not of a greater standing. However, she of course lacked the hindsight or humility to realise that this was purely down to her own incompetence and lack of ambition.

Constance leaned her head back as Chris danced around her, in pure elation. “HEHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Constance’s shrill laughter drew the attention of Clyde at the bar. For a moment, he and Chris locked eyes and Chris nodded in his direction. Clyde raised his beer bottle. It was so important that he did not give the game up now by showing how much he had grown to hate Alyster’s father.

Clyde Black - the consummate hypocrite.

This was a man who had forged an entire lifestyle out of a superiority complex gone rampant when in fact he was probably one of the most inferior men that Chris Peacock had ever encountered. Simply, Clyde Black was nothing other than a bully. His “disappointments” in Alyster were merely due to his own ineptitude. Alyster was an easy target because he held some sort of natural prominence over him because he was his father.

Clyde Black was the sort of man who would actually convince himself that everything in the world could only be because he was. The kind of man who would look down at people just because he felt entitled to do so. Chris believed that Clyde actually thought he was a good judge of character. Because in actuality, Alyster was a better person than Clyde in almost every discernible metric. Clyde would of course never entertain such a thought.

Chris danced with Constance deep in the knowledge that soon enough he would be exacting revenge upon these pieces of shit in the most extravagant of ways. His plan was coming together and he was satisfied that the intended targets of his scheming were definitely deserving of the fate he was going to befall on them.

Suddenly, Clyde bolted from his chair into action and this caused Chris to raise an eyebrow. Clyde closed his flip phone and motioned for Chris and Constance to join him. Constance eagerly hurried towards her husband and Chris stood alone on the dancefloor, perplexed.

“Huh? Nothing should have happened yet…”

He bustled through the crowd to join them and caught both of Alyster’s parents in frantic conversation.

“We need to go now, Constance!”

“What’s happened?”

“It was one of the neighbours. That fuckwit is doing something to the house and causing a right scene.”

“Is he okay?”

“Who gives a shit? He better not have eaten my fuckin’ gabagool!”

Back at the Black Residence
Almost At the Same Time​

Alyster was seething. Laying flat on his back in what used to be his bedroom furiously eating his father’s gabagool and drinking some rum. He stared at two light stains on the ceiling where posters of past wrestlers like Valiant, the Bedlam family, and valets like Candace von Dolce were once on prominent display.

In his hand was the bottle of Kraken that Alyster had fished out of his parent’s liquor cabinet. A bottle that he had almost completely polished off in the hours he’d been left home alone.

Truthfully, Chris taking his parents (and that fucking mutt) out was almost a mercy to Alyster. But it was a peaceful evening that he was unable to enjoy due to the blatant disrespect he was forced to tolerate throughout this entire trip.

Disrespect he would tolerate no more.

‘Fuck Chris Peacock’ he thought as he turned the bottle over, pouring out the remaining contents of the rum out into his open mouth, spilling the vast majority of it over himself.

Alyster slowly got up to his feet, groaning with each movement. His body ached, his muscles were sore, his bones were held together by tape and paperclips. Such were the results of being tackled through a wrestling ring only a week prior. But a little pain never stopped Alyster Black when he was determined to accomplish something. Alyster Black was quite determined to ruin Chris Peacock’s newfound relationship with his parents.

A relationship that Alyster Black had always longed for and never received. The love that his bastard of a father and master manipulator of a mother poured on Chris had always eluded Alyster. Nothing he ever did made them proud. He shared no interests with them. They never shared in his achievements, they never acknowledged him.

“They never fucking liked the omelettes I made for ‘em.” Alyster drunkenly stumbled toward his father’s desk. He flipped open the laptop, and was blinded by the sudden bright light. As his vision returned he was greeted by the sound of women moaning and the sight of a large mound of gyrating human flesh composed of several dozen people.

Alyster was disgusted and quickly closed the tab, only for the next tab to open. The online edition of Good Housekeeping. Homely women, wielding cleaning equipment.

“Fucking…Chris..” Alyster knew deep down who the culprit was. None other than his supposed partner sneaking out a quick five knuckle shuffle in the morning when he was apparently making an omelette.

He closed the browser completely for safety then started to compose himself. Taking a deep breath and shoving another fistful of gabagool down his gullet.

With his nerves calmed he began to go to work. Reopening the browser and feverishly typing the phrase “Chris Peacock”. Image after image of the world famous professional wrestler, whom you’d have to be living under a rock to not know he was one, appeared on screen. Each image depicting Chris in the ring, performing a move or posing with one of his many championships was sent to the printing queue.

With nearly one hundred images printed out, Alyster began to go to work. Taking a roll of tape and making his way downstairs. He kicked the front door open, a little too hard as it was knocked clean off its hinges and slammed down onto the concrete pathway below. He began to plaster image after image on the front of the house.

In his drunken state Alyster was not careful to take care of the pile, the wind blew the stack away on more than one occasion and Alyster was forced to print more pictures.

Before long the neighbours were alarmed by the commotion emanating from the Black household. Sounds of sobbing, screaming, and swearing were heard. Shouting that echoed through the streets. And a phrase that repeatedly sounded out, “Fuck that stupid bitch dog!”

Soon there was a commotion as families exited their homes and entered the warm spring night air, gathering around the Black household and watched on in horror as the eldest and most disliked child, the black sheep of the family if you will, made a complete and utter arse of himself.

The watchful eyes of prying neighbours weren’t enough to deter Alyster from his mission of exposing Chris Peacock’s true identity to his parents, but they did provoke his ire.

“The fuck are y’all lookin’ at?” He angrily shouted as he squared up against the largest neighbour he could find. Shoulder bumping the man and easily sending him tumbling down to the grass below.

The watchers turned into active participants to the disturbance as the crowd turned into a mob and began arguing with the disgraced son of the Black household. But Alyster didn’t care what they thought and he made sure they all knew it. Their remarks were met with middle fingers, obnoxious swearing and threats of violence.

The neighbour who lived right next door to the Blacks pulled out her mobile phone. Across town at the Disco Truck Stop Club, Constance Black’s phone began ringing inside her purse. As she was currently busy dancing with Chris the phone was answered by Clyde.

“Howdy. She’s busy tearing it up on the dance floor. What’s going on? Wait a minute slow down…” Clyde’s brows furrowed as his neighbour frantically began to describe the commotion going on. He swore loudly before assuring the neighbour that he would be returning soon.

Clyde then picked up his beer bottle and downed the remainder of its contents. He wiped his chin clean with the sleeve of his shirt then stormed to the dancefloor to collect his wife and son’s partner.

Ten minutes later the old Holden station wagon pulled up into the driveway. Clyde pulled the handbrake, killed the engine and stormed out of the car. The crowd had not dissipated; they watched on as Alyster Black swung around a championship belt, while two more belts sat on the lawn by his feet.

“He’s a fucking wrestler! Don’t you people understand? They should hate him, they should hate him! They hate me for it! Why don’t they hate him?” Alyster was shouting at the crowd, he hadn’t noticed that his parents, their dog and Chris Peacock had returned.

Clyde buried his hands in his face as his son continued to rant. He was soon flanked by his wife and Chris. Constance placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder and tried her hardest to calm him down.

“Are you really surprised by this?” She remarked, “It’s not worth feeling disappointed.”

“Disappointed? I’m beyond that Constance, this kid is a fuckup.”

Chris rolled his eyes at the pity party that Alyster’s parents were throwing for themselves. A pity party that was interrupted by Aly the dog lunging forward, his leash flying clear out of Constance’s hand and freeing him. Aly rushed for the house, diving between Alyster’s legs and jumping over the front door to enter the domicile.

“Was that the fucking dog? I hate that fucking dog!”

“Don’t you talk shit about the dog!” Clyde snapped.

“Oh good, you’re all finally back!” Alyster stopped swinging around the championship belt and attempted to straighten himself out. He patted his clothes clean and cracked his neck. “I’ve got a lot of things that I need to get off my chest.”

“We leave you alone for a night and you behave like this?” Clyde stammered, “You better not have eaten my gabagool!”

“I did more than that old man!”

“What have you done to the house?”

Alyster smiled as he spun around, waving his hand at the new decor he had erected. “You like it? I printed these pictures out just for you.”

“I can’t tell what it is, they’re black and white pictures and it’s pitch dark.”

“Maybe this can help shed some light on them then. It’s quite shiny.” Alyster tossed the championship belt to his father who just barely managed to catch it.

Clyde Black had never held this championship belt in his arms before, the FWA World Tag Team Championship. The sight of this man holding the title filled both Alyster Black and Chris Peacock with disgust.

“It’s one of your stupid wrestling belts, so what?”

“Read the name on the plate.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me this is true.”

The tag title in Clyde’s hand wasn’t Alyster’s, it was Chris’.

Clyde looked to Chris in disbelief before handing him his championship belt. Both Clyde and Constance approached the house, they began to study the pictures.

“He’s a wrestler!” Alyster spat, crackling brightly at the Earth-shattering reveal. “And he’s not just any wrestler, he’s the champion of the world. He’s the man that stands at the top of the mountain, the one holding the prize that all other wrestlers aspire to hold. He’s the best wrestler in the world.”

Alyster’s laughter died down, he looked over at his partner who had his FWA World Tag Team Championship draped over his shoulder and wore it proudly.

“The best wrestler in the world, until Lights Out that is.”

Chris smirked from ear to ear at Alyster’s little outburst before shooting a finger gun in his direction. Alyster returned the gesture but ended his shot with a raised middle finger pointed in Chris’ direction.

“What do you think about that, mum and dad?”

Clyde and Constance shared a look before turning to Chris Peacock.

“Chris, we’re so sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, son, I’m especially sorry. It looks like you’re pretty good at this wrestling thing. I think we’re ready to give it a chance.”

Both Alyster and Chris were flabbergasted.

“I don’t understand, you guys hate wrestling.”

“We hate that you’re a wrestler.”

“Chris is a world champion, you’re a goon that wears a mask.”

“I was a world champion, I held the belt before Chris did!”

“Why don’t you have it now?”

“Because you’re not as good as him, you’re a joke.”

Chris couldn’t take anymore of this, he had to interject. Stepping forward and commanding everyone’s attention with a loud and boisterous scream, “Shut up!”

He stormed right up to Clyde and Constance, menacingly standing over them as he began to dress them down.

“What is wrong with you people? Have you no idea who your son is? He’s just about the best wrestler I’ve ever stepped into the ring with, and the best man I’ve ever hung out with outside the ring. He’s great, why can’t you see that?”

“You people disgust me. You sicken me. I want to vomit whenever I hear you open your mouths. I mean, my parents are gone and I would have given anything to have them back. I thought that coming here would give me that feeling back… and fill the hole in my heart that has been missing ever since they went.”

“You want to know who filled that hole? It was your son. This is a man who saw what a duplicitous piece of shit I am and decided to be friends with me anyway.”

“When Alyster told me just how awful you two were I refused to believe it. But when you proved him right then I began to feel boundless rage, and now I am untethered and you shall feel my wrath.”

Chris’ voice hitched as he spoke, veins popped in his forehead, his complexion began to turn red.

“You want to know the difference between the two of us and the two of you is? You see, us, we know that we’re assholes. We know that we’re juvenile and crass and don’t show respect to anyone. As for the two of you, you’re bad people, but you just haven’t admitted it to yourselves yet.”

“Do you understand what I am saying? I was merely pretending to be your friend, it was all an act. I wanted you to feel secure around me so that I could destroy you. And destroy you I have.”

“I have made you both look like idiots. Time and time again.”

Clyde and Constance were at a loss for words, they stammered and exchanged looks with each other, with their son, the crazed man dressing them down, and the crowd of onlookers whose interest had been piqued to new heights.

Alyster in turn beamed with pride, reaching for his partner and wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“Oh buddy, I knew you were still on my side deep down.”

“Naturally, we’re FTN. Ride or Die, motherfucker. I hope you know why I didn’t want you to have one of those omelettes.”

“I saw what you were doing on the computer. I know why. Anyway…”

Alyster pointed at his parents, “You wanna know something, you’re both shitty parents and I hate your fucking guts. I’ve always hated your guts, but for some reason that eludes me I’ve always wanted you to love and accept me. For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted you to acknowledge me, and you wouldn’t. It didn’t matter what I did. You people just cannot accept me for who I am.”

“I won a god damn championship at the MCG, in front of 100,000 people. I defended that title for two years in horrific death matches. You didn’t come to see me win that title, and you didn’t watch me defend it once. And you sit there and you still judge me, you think I’m not good, that I’m unworthy of praise. Why? Because I didn’t have a career defining world championship run? Because I didn’t hang around home long enough? Because I walked out on you?”

“Well fuck you guys, I don’t need you. I have a real family waiting for me. Krash, Violet, Allen, Rick, Sonny, Drew, Max…and Chris. They’re my family. You never supported me, you never showed me any love and I didn’t need it, and now I don’t fucking want it.”

The words cut and they cut deep. The lawn remained silent for a while as everyone let what’s just transpired sink in.

It’s Clyde who broke the silence. Stepping forward, with Constance in tow, and placed a hand on Alyster’s shoulder.

“That…that was almost worthy of respect son.” He then turned his attention to Chris, smiling warmly. “It’s good to see that someone has finally lit a fire underneath ya.”

Both Alyster and Chris scoff. Alyster slapped his father’s hand away while Chris grabbed his partner and began to back away from the house.

“About that…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small squared case with a single button in the middle. He handed it to Alyster, “Alyster my good buddy, may I present catharsis at the touch of a button.”

“Is this what I think it is?”

“Yes it is.” Chris looked around, smiling devilishly, “I’d give the area a wide berth, people.”

Alyster grinned as his parent’s eyes widened. They watched in horror as their son eagerly pushed the button and their family home was engulfed in flames. Windows shattered, bricks collapsed, and flaming debris flew in all directions. Most horrifically of all, the burnt up corpse of a dog shot through the upstairs window of Alyster’s former childhood bedroom and landed at the feet of Clyde and Constance.

“Aly noooooo!” She screams, collapsing to her knees as she desperately tries to bat the flames that still burn in what’s left of the deceased dog’s fur whilst Clyde tries to pull her away.

Chris cackles maniacally and slaps Alyster on the shoulder, “Holy shit, you killed another dog!”

Alyster grumbles, “Fuck that dog.”

The pair collected their championship belts, the only items worth saving in the entire house and made their way to the rental car. They piled inside and peeled off just as the firetrucks began to arrive.

Chris opened the window, and stuck his head out and shouted as they left, “Bye, Dad!”

“I thought you weren’t going to call him that.”

“There’s a fire. I panicked.”

​

 

[AON]

The interview segment opens with a ringside shot, clearly still coming at us from the home of where the last FWA show came from. The fans have emptied out, and the production crew are in the process of removing the announce desks, clearing the mats, and getting ready to take down the ring itself. But while all of this is going on, a dark-haired young woman in a grey suit and tie is standing beside the ring. She has a microphone in her hand, and Katie Baxter smirks at the camera, even as a small graphic in the corner of the screen reminds the viewer exactly what show they are watching before the plucky host has even opened her mouth.

Katie Baxter "Welcome to "On The Box, with Katie Barker". and I'm coming to you. And I'm coming to you post fallout, where we saw some HUGE matches being made for the Lights Out, but this is the series where we get to know some of our FWA's wrestlers through clips from their past. And joining me right now as the very first guest of "On The Box"... Lizz-Elizabeth Rose."

Katie gestures to the side, where her guest is sitting.....Who looks a LOT like Lizzie Rose, but where Lizzie was all smiles and bright colours. Elizbeth seemed to enjoy wearing dark, somewhat revealing clothes, staring at Katie like she was already bored by being in the same room as her, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. In the background, we see the familiar ominous figure of Keres, standing in the shadows, staring straight ahead.

Katie Baxter: "Thank you for joining me, Liz-Well, I suppose Elizabeth now.

Elizabeth Rose: "...."

Katie Baxter: "This is one of the first times we've seen you on FWA since the hellacious Garden of Eden match....which had something of a shocking end.

Elizabeth Rose: "....."

Katie Baxter: "Maybe people are somewhat alarmed by your attitude change of late and what influence Eternal has had on you.

Elizabeth Rose: "......"

Katie Baxter: In fact, many people have expressed concern for you, not to mention disappointment, believing this to be a terrible career move for you."

Elizabeth Rose: You gonna continue to make a series of declarative statements, or are you gonna fuckin' ask me something?

Katie seems somewhat taken aback by the cold, bored, emotionless drawl coming from Elizabeth's tone, her Brooklyn accent coming out clearer than ever before

Katie Baxter: "Well, Do you have any thoughts or comments regarding the concern from the fans and colleagues?

Elizabeth Rose: "....No."

Katie Baxter: "No?"

Elizabeth Rose: "I really couldn't give a shit"

Cue an awkward pause; no doubt Katie expected more than that, as Elizabeth looks over her shoulder.

Elizabeth Rose: "So, are we done here or-"

Katie Baxter: "Elizabeth. I have to say, you don't seem to be acting like yourself."

Elizabeth Rose: "Actin' like myself...."

With a cold, sour expression on her face, Elizabeth repeats Katie's words in a mocking fashion as she slouches deeper in her chair.

Elizabeth Rose: "Is this how it's going to be now, Katie? The faux outrage? The shaming? The clutching of pearl whenever I do something you don't like and the fanboys hiding behind their keyboards, "We miss Lizzie, Elizabeth sucks! Bring Lizzie back."

Humourlessly, the corners of her mouth flickered upwards.

Elizabeth Rose: "You want to know why you want Lizzie Rose back? Why so many people didn't want to see her change? Because Lizzie Rose was a nice story. When they saw Lizzie Rose, they saw the best version of themselves. They saw everyone's little sister. Someone they could aspire to be. Someone they could root for. There is an idea of a Lizzie Rose, some kind of abstraction. Stories are nice. Stories are what get us through the day, and no one ever saw Lizzie Rose as a person...but a story.

Elizabeth leaned forward in place, a scowl on her face.

Elizabeth Rose: ...Do you have ANY idea what's that like? Being someone who just wanted to follow their passion and through no choice of your own, you stop being a person...but this...this...this BRAND? People want you to be all day, every day? That you have no choice to be?

Elizabeth's eyes twitched as if she had kept that particular gem to herself for years.

Elizabeth Rose: You know I got a story of my own. I heard it years ago and never understood it until now.

She frowns as she tries to remember this story.

Elizabeth Rose: A rich man opens the paper one day. He sees the world as full of misery. He says, "I have money. I can help." So he gives away all of his money. But it's not enough. The people are still suffering. One day, the man sees another article. He decides he was foolish to think that just giving money was enough. So he goes to the doctor and says, "Doctor, I want to donate a kidney." The doctors do the surgery. It's a complete success. After, he knows he should feel good, but he doesn't, for people are still suffering. So he goes back to the doctor. He says, "Doctor, this time, I want to give it all." The doctor says, "What does that mean, 'Give it all'?" He says, "This time, I want to donate my liver. But not just my liver. I want to donate my heart, but not just my heart. I want to donate my corneas, but not just my corneas. I want to give it all away. Everything I am. All that I have." The doctor says, "A kidney is one thing, but you can't give away your whole body piece by piece. That's suicide." And he sends the man home. But the man cannot live knowing that the people are suffering and he could help. So he gives the one thing he has left: his life.

Elizabeth pauses, taking a moment to take a draft from her cigarette, enjoy the inhale, really milking the moment.

Katie Baxter: And does it work? Does it stop the suffering?

Elizabeth Rose: You live in the world. What do you think?

...and exhale, she seemed to enjoy that even more

Katie Baxter: "I'm not sure I see your point"

Elizabeth snorted somewhat in disgust.

Elizabeth Rose: You mentioned some of the locker room don't like the choices I made. Let's mention someone at random; let's talk about Cyrus Truth. Someone who said he had the utmost respect for Lizzie Rose? But when Lizzie Rose needed him most? When Lizzie Rose was being tormented for months on end, tortured in the truest sense of the word. Where was he? Where was he for the person he had so much love and respect for?

She extended out her arms as if inviting Katie to answer that question for her.

Elizabeth Rose: ".....Nowhere."

Elizabeth shrugged

Elizabeth Rose: "Oh, sure. He respected Lizzie Rose sooooooo much...When he wanted something from her. When he wanted her on team Cyrus for the Jailhouse Blues match, she was there. She bled for him in that cage, no questions asked, and then after the match, they never spoke again, and he's not the only one. There was a whole damn locker room that talked about "How loveable Lizzie Rose was", but were nowhere to be found when she really needed them. That's what Keres and Nova wanted to teach me that all Lizzie Rose did was give and give and give, and the entire wrestling world took and took and took. Because that's who Lizzie Rose was, the great martyr of the wrestling world shuffling dancing for all the sins of FWA. That's probably all I would ever be if my sisters didn't show me what was up."

Elizabeth paused to take another draft of her cigarette.

Elizabeth Rose: But that's just one year. One person. I can give more examples. More people right back to the very start of Lizzie Rose's career. See, She didn't believe she was anything special....but the vultures saw something in her. Right from the start, they saw that Lizzie Rose was special. See, they saw that she had a talent, something no one else could do. Sure, Some wrestlers might be more charismatic, or better high flyers or even just generally better wrestlers, but no one, absolutely no one in the history of wrestling...can suffer like Lizzie Rose. I don't think I can explain it. Lizzie Rose didn't claim to be any tougher than the average wrestler. She was a weak, scrawny, small girl in a world of giant, untouchable monsters. The type of person that this business would chew up and spit out and, after a few months of being tortured, realized that wrestling wasn't for them. When Daphne Shelly broke a steel chair over her head in her very first match- it HURT-! But she stood back up. At Back In Business two years ago, when Kleo De Santos had her in a kamura, she broke her arm in two places; that HURT! But she didn't tap out. When Gabby-"

Elizabeth pauses to spit bitterly on the ground, making her feelings clear about the newly minted FWA Hall of Famer.

Elizabeth Rose: "When she cut Lizzie's forehead open with her high-heeled shoe, She could barely see because of the blood streaming into her eyes, but she stood back up and faced her down and asked for more.

Elizabeth rubbed her hand through her now dark red hair as if experiencing phantom pains even as she was speaking.

Elizabeth Rose: " She couldn't explain it. She didn't even understand it. There were times when she lay down in the middle of the ring, her body throbbing with horrible pain, wanting more than anything for the match to be over, having nothing left to give, but then a force of nature took over her body and forced her shoulder off the canvas. Now, some might call that a gift, but she's called it a curse. Imagine if the only thing you were good at in your life was to be able to suffer more than the average person. But the vultures? The Jackels? They saw potential. They saw a superpower. They saw something they could control. First came Gabriella, you know, the bitch that we all saw crying at the Hall of fame like anyone gave a shit. She told Lizzie Rose, that she'd take under her wing, filled her head with dreams she never would have dared to dream, and told her everything she wanted in life was possible...and as soon as she taught Lizzie, Rose was of no use to her any more. She stabbed Lizzie Rose in the face with her high heels while screaming at her how worthless she was; again, the same woman this fucking company made her put on a fake smile and talk about how wonderful she was when what she really wanted to say was "You ruined my life Gabby. Fuck you. But she couldn't do that because God forbid we ruin Gabby's big special night. God forbid this company doesn't stroke her ego every chance they get and not tell her the truth that she's a hateful hollow bitch that poisons everyone around her. No, we can't tell her that."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as if mentioning Gabby and thus making her relevant in FWA is a bitter taste in her mouth.

Elizabeth Rose: Then we got Devin Golden. Who didn't so much want an apprentice but some kind of pseudo-family relationship to justify his delusions, which actually worked out well as far as family goes. A delusional freak show that would rather hang out with his washed-up rock star buddies than remember she existed? Very authentic family experience. You seeing a pattern yet, Katie? For the entirety of her life, people wanted to use up Lizzie Rose. The fans. Wrestling companies. Legends. No one gave a shit about Lizzie Rose. All they cared about was her suffering. Use her up, then kick her to the curb when they were done with her. So it's a good thing she ain't here any more, right?

She gestures idly to herself as if to say she isn't the same person as Lizzie Rose but something entirely different.

Elizabeth Rose: "So you ask me what do I say to everyone complaining about my new view on the world? I say fuck you. I say fuck you for taking everything from Lizzie Rose and giving nothing back. I say fuck you for thinking I owe anyone dick. I saw I hadn't gone far enough. I want them all to despise me. I want the message forums to be full of threads about how awful Elizabeth Rose is. I want there to be goddamn riots on the day I win the FWA World Heavyweight Championship....and trust me, that day is coming, and you know what I'm going to feel on that day?

Elizabeth raised a single eyebrow.

Elizabeth Rose: " Nothing at all. I won't give a shit, I'd take no personal pride in it; I'll just take comfort in the fact that I'm stopping anyone else from having it. That everyone is pissed off that I have it, and there's nothing they can do about it"

A heavy pause overcame the interview; Katie Barker seemed visibly uncomfortable, while Elizabeth seemed altogether unconcerned, smoking away.

Katie Baxter: "And you think you can do that with Eternal? After everything they put you through?" Af-

Elizabeth Rose: Don't talk shit about my sisters.

It was the most emotive Elizabeth Rose has been since the beginning of the interview. Before now, she seemed almost comically cold and unconcerned with anything said about her, but her tone suddenly turned sharp.

Elizabeth Rose: Say whatever about me, I don't care. Don't talk smack about Eternal.

Katie Baxter: "Well, forgive me for saying so, but you don't seem that close to them.

Elizabeth Rose: "Why because I'm not overtly spooky? Because I'm not taking you through a magical mystery tour through the torn universe? Jesus Christ, you people are shallow as shit."

Katie Baxter: "So tell me then, what is the nature of your relationship with them?"

Elizabeth seems to go to answer but pauses as Keres hand goes onto her shoulder, a moment of understanding passes between them.

Elizabeth Rose "......"

Elizabeth abruptly stands up, tossing the chair to the ground as she walks off the set without another word.​

 

[Nostradamus]

​

Xperienx Xtacee doesn’t deserve this.​

Xtacee: “I don’t deserve this.”​

Xperienx Xtacee has the love of the masses but does nothing but fall flat on his ass.​

Xtacee: “I’m a failure.”​

Xperienx Xtacee is nothing more than a big bottle of glitter poured over a dumpster.​

Xtacee: “Shut up...”​

That’s what I’ve been telling you to do, Xtacee.​

The usual lights, music, décor, and socialites that fill the walls of Xtacee’s club/casino “The Right Side of the Bed” are all on display tonight in full support of their hero. The lights dance, the music bumps, the décor screams, and the socialites harmonize with everything around them. Pink, purple, green, gold, white, and red; all these colors carry the vibes and lift the spirits as people sip their cares away. Monica and Antonio stand on either side of a stage and dance seductively to the delight of everyone. Meanwhile the magnificent Xperienx Xtacee sits at the bar, still adorned in his usually flamboyant and bright attire, but noticeably giving off a more monotone aura. He sits on a stool, martini glass in hand, his head hanging and facing the counter as he is stuck within his own head. Seeing him like this pains me, but what he is experiencing is a necessary evil in his otherwise brightly colored world. Currently, to Xtacee, the music is under water, the lights are just too dim, the décor is screaming in his face, and the socialites can’t bring themselves to look at him with the same love they once had. His world, his head, is filled with a numbing sense of silence. That silence is where I thrive; the great narrator of a colorful world gone dark… What a horrible Xperienx this must be for Xtacee.​

Bartender: “Hey boss, you feelin’ ok? You haven’t even taken a sip of your drink. This is a killer party, everyone’s super excited for you!”​

Xtacee, if only briefly, snaps out of his funk and looks up at the bartender. A charming fellow, standing at around 6’2, buff, and with a button-down shirt that has the sleeves ripped off. Xtacee always really liked this bartender’s wavy red hair the most. He looks at the bartender and takes a small sip of his martini.​

Xtacee: “They’re always excited for me, and I can’t live up to the hype. You hear them here, they love me. You can read it online, they adore me. But then you look at me, and I haven’t been able to give back to them. I haven’t been able to prove to them that I deserve their adulation, that their cheers are for good reason. I don’t deserve their love…”​

Bartender: “Yes you do, silly! You’re Xperienx Xtacee, the Sensual Sensation, HIM, Mr. Pillow talk, the lover of the stars! You also aren’t a bad boss on top of that. You deserve everything and more, X.”​

Xtacee chugs his martini and starts tapping his finger on the empty glass.​

Tink. Tink. Tink.​

His favorite bartender leans in with a mischievous look on his face. The bartender looks at the glass and then back at Xtacee.​

Bartender: “So, boss, you want me to top you off?”​

Xtacee blankly looks the bartender in the eyes as he winks at him. And here it is, that feeling… that moment where Xtacee is at his lowest, or his highest if you’re asking me, and he finally starts listening to me. Where those cheers turn into fears, that love turns into hate, the color drains, and the silence takes over. I’m not the bad, I am what can make him do so much more good. Sometimes… a different Xperienx is needed.​

Xtacee’s bartender screams out in pain as the music stops and the socialites go silent. Monica and Antonio hop off the stage and go towards Xtacee, but do not get near him. They all stand in shock as Xtacee stands over the bartender after having just broken his martini glass against the face of his red-haired favorite.​

Monica: “Baby, what happened?!”​

Antonio: “Why did that just happen, what did he do!?”​

Xtacee?: “WHY DO YOU ALL LIE TO ME?!”​

Xtacee? turns around and yells at everyone around him. The pain in his voice is scarily evident. He is feeling what needs to be felt. He is letting out what they have tried to medicate, subvert, hide, and silence for so long; when the silence is what he has always needed. The echo chamber in his head where I can make him feel… good.​

Monica: “Xtacee, honey, please. Let’s go to the back, Antonio and I will make you feel better. I’ll get my bag and-“​

Don’t let her touch you.​

Xtacee?: “Monica… don’t touch me.”​

Antonio moves forward to try and console Xtacee. But that is not what we want.​

Xtacee?: “AAAHHHH!”​

Xtacee? screams in Antonio’s face and pushes through him, Monica, and the crowd. He runs for the main elevator of The Right Side of the Bed, slams into the wall of it as he stumbles inside, and frantically smashes the “close door” button until it shuts… and he is left with nothing but the humming of machinery around him. He sits with his back against the elevator wall, his knees to his chest, and his face looking down. The elevator creaks, he sweats, and the floors ding as he heads down deeper and deeper to the bottom. Xperienx Xtacee can’t contain this forever.​

Xtacee?: “I can.”​

No, Xperienx Xtacee can’t.​

Xtacee?: “I can’t…”​

There we go. The elevator feels to be moving a little bit faster now to Xtacee. He is starting to feel a little bit lighter as the seconds go by and the floor numbers move with increasing speed. Xtacee, you’re floating in the air and the elevator is plummeting to the Earth. What’re you going to do?​

Xtacee? begins to panic and flail about in the air as the elevator is spiraling towards the ground. He doesn’t remember the building being this tall, or the floor numbers 7F, CC, 0@, XS, -1, SB2, UX, or NA that are appearing on the screen. His heart is racing, and for once it’s not from an over-abundance of pleasure, instead it is from this excess feeling of fear. He closes his eyes, accepting whatever comes next.​

Ding.​

Xtacee? is face first on the elevator floor and is completely unharmed. The doors open and he is met with the image of a desolate world filled with endless sandy hills in front of him. Some of the sand gently blown into the elevator, irritating his eyes and giving him blurry vision. Xtacee? hesitantly gets to his feet and staggers out of the elevator where he is met with blistering heat. After walking a few feet, he stops to survey his surroundings and notices that there is absolutely nothing in front of him. Xtacee? turns around towards the elevator and sees that it is the only thing there, partially submerged by sand, as if he hadn’t just been inside of his club/casino a few seconds ago. Everything around him looks like the world has just ended, and he hears nothing but a low hum until that is broken by a quiet sound in the distance.​

?: “shhhhh…”​

Xtacee? turns around, away from the elevator, and where there was once absolutely nothing but sandy hills, is now an oasis with two palm trees and a small pond. Standing next to the pond is a shadowy figure that appears to have one hand up by its face, judging by the outline, but is otherwise hard to make out because of the distance.​

Hello.​

Xtacee? scrambles and tries to quickly limp his way to the oasis but with every step he takes it only seems to get farther away. He stumbles and falls multiple times, but the overwhelming urge to make it to this oasis, to this shadowy figure, is encompassing him. He cannot experience any other sensation aside from wanting to make it to this oasis. The heat increases, his body fills with sweat, his eyes burn from the buildup of sand… and he faceplants to the ground.​

Xperienx Xtacee couldn’t even do this.​

Xperienx Xtacee couldn’t make it to the oasis.​

Xperienx Xtacee is, as I said, a failure without me.​

It is time to Xperienx something more with me.​

Xtacee? wakes up after passing out in the sand and he is soaking wet. He is floating on his back in a small pond. The oasis. From the side of his vision, he sees something that shakes him to his core. Monica and Antonio are hanging from the palm trees by their ankles with no signs of life. Xtacee? tries to scream but no sound comes out of his mouth. He swims out of the pond and gets back onto the sand where he looks around and sees another horrifying image… his friends and stablemates, Jackson Fenix and Nate Savage, at the bottom of the pond, stuck in a position like they are pointing at him, but there are no signs of life in them either.

Rising from the pond in front of his eyes are two watery plumes that slowly form the shapes of a male figure and a female figure. These figures are eerily similar to his two opponents Chris Crowe and Katsu. The watery figure of Chris Crowe shoots at him with ungodly force, knocking Xperienx Xtacee onto his back. Overcome by water, and seemingly pinned down, Xtacee gasps for air. The other watery figure, the one that resembles Katsu, launches into the air and splashes down onto Xtacee with the weight of a large boulder. he lays on the ground, filled with every type of pain imaginable and unable to process how he could possibly overcome his opponents in a match when he can't withstand them in his own head. Let's face it, X, you only got lucky against Chris Crowe. We know that.

Xperienx Xtacee wants to cry.​

Xperienx Xtacee wants to scream out in pain.​

Xperienx Xtacee wants to bury himself in the sand, close his eyes, and never open them again.​

But Xtacee? is stuck in a world of silence.​

Where he belongs. Where the bad can make him feel good.​

?: “shhhhh…”​

Xtacee?, on his knees, is covered by a shadow. He slowly looks up and sees… his legs. He looks up some more and sees… his torso. He looks up even more and sees his hair straight down past his shoulders. He is wearing an all-black outfit. An open jacket with no shirt, shoes that give him some extra height and… his face is different… it’s not there. Where his face should be is nothing but a full-head red mask, with only the crown being open to allow the hair to come out.​

Spoiler: ?

​

Hello.​

Xtacee? feels a hand on the top of his head as I clutch his mind and drag him to his feet. Our faces come close. We each have a finger come up to our lips.​

We: “shhhhh…”​

His favorite bartender leans in with a mischievous look on his face. The bartender looks at the glass and then back at Xtacee.​

Bartender: “So, boss, you want me to top you off?”​

Xtacee blankly looks the bartender in the eyes as he winks at him. Xtacee blinks a few times and puts a few of his fingers against his temple.​

Bartender: “Damn, was the martini that good today, or did I just turn you on? Haha.”​

Xperienx Xtacee chuckles and smiles at the bartender.​

Xtacee: “Maybe a little bit of both, you lovely flame-haired cocktail mixer.”​

The bartender pours Xtacee another martini and then places a hand on the shoulder of Xtacee.​

Bartender: “Never doubt yourself, boss. You’re the best, we all love you, and no matter what, we all know that you’re always doing your best. You can never disappoint anyone here. Isn’t that right everyone?!”​

Monica, Antonio, the bartender, and all the socialites yell and cheer in agreement. Xtacee stands on top of the bar and throws his hands in the air as he starts dancing while they cheer his name. He feels good… but while he dances, he can’t help but hear that nagging voice in his head that is begging for just a little bit…​

Of silence.​

​

 

[Jimmy King]

Jackson Fenix in...
Never Better


"One door closes, but another will open."

Those were the words said by Nate Savage to lift the spirits of his friend, Jackson Fenix. Little did he know how valid those words would be after Jackson Fenix secured a victory over Death Walker on Meltdown XXXIII. That new door that opened has led Jackson to another championship opportunity, but this time, it's for the FWA North American Championship.

Jackson knows this won't be easy because of who currently possesses that championship. It's someone that Jackson is no stranger to, someone he's crossed paths with on more than one occasion, and it never ended well. Jackson Fenix will challenge Bryan Baxter for the FWA North American Championship at Lights Out. In a way, it's a rivalry renewed even though Jackson has never faced Bryan one-on-one. It's usually been in tag team action or Bryan interfering on behalf of his friend and former friend of Jackson, Jeremy Best. That fact wasn't lost on Jackson. He knows that not only will Bryan be looking to defend his championship successfully, but he'll also probably be looking for some payback on behalf of Jeremy. Although Bryan hasn't shown much concern for Jeremy's current whereabouts, that may not happen. Regardless, again, Jackson knows that it won't be easy. He knows how Bryan operates and how he'll do anything to win and hold onto his title.

Things are starting to look up for Jackson Fenix. There's still something eating away at him, though. Something that's been bothering him for several months, and no matter what he does, he can't seem to shake it off. He's overcome several mental hurdles lately, except for this one.

The dreams he's been having about Jeremy Best.

Ever since Back in Business, Jackson has had a recurring dream of finding himself at the gravesite where Jeremy was "buried." He sees Jeremy's hand sticking out, just like in the aftermath of Jeremy's match with Krash. That image of Jeremy's hand sticking out of the dirt has haunted Jackson ever since. He wishes he could talk to Jeremy and maybe help him out and apologize, but like he told Sir Stache and Mejor Amigo, he knows he can't because he knows deep down that he's the last person Jeremy wants to see or speak to. The last time they saw each other was the Sesame Street Fight, where Jeremy defeated Jackson. The Jeremy that Jackson saw in that match wasn't the Jeremy he was friends with; that was a different person, and Jackson still blames himself for what Jeremy became.

He can't let this haunt him forever.

********************

We're a few days past Fallout, and Jackson has returned home to America for a bit before he has to travel out again for Lights Out. Much like last time, Jackson needed some time to unwind and decompress. He has a lot on his plate, figuratively, anyway. He doesn't have much at the moment in a literal sense. To clarify, Jackson is at a fancy restaurant that's located somewhere in downtown LA. He's been staying with Hazel since his return to the US, and he wanted to treat her to a date. They didn't get many chances to do that, so Jackson jumped at the opportunity. This date could help him clear his head, let loose, and relax.

However, he didn't expect that the restaurant would be unable to cater to his liking. They didn't have his favorite dish: chicken tenders and french fries. Hence, his plate is empty, although there was a salad on his plate, but not much of one, to be honest. He wasn't feeling like eating anyway. His mind was racing a mile a minute on everything in his life.

Hazel hadn't seemed to notice; if she did, it didn't affect her. She was going on about her time at Ground Zero and her big win there. Out of courtesy, Jackson did his best to make it seem like he was listening, although, to be fair, he wasn't listening.

"I couldn't believe I did it, well, not really, I knew I could do it because, duh! As if there was ever any doubt! I sent Hailey Price packing; now she can try to suck up more to Ashley Adams…"

Jackson snapped out of his trance at the mention of that name.

"Ashley Adams?"

"Uh, yeah, I told you I've been training with her, and so has that little wench Hailey Price."

Hazel told Jackson this, so technically, he was already privy to this news, but he needs to be in the right headspace to remember that.

"I know something happened with you two, but that's okay. That's none of my business."

Jackson knew what Hazel was talking about there but waved it off. He already had enough on his mind that he didn't have the energy to go down that rabbit hole.

"No, it's not that. I knew you were training with her; it must've slipped my mind."

Hazel looks at Jackson quizzically as she takes a sip of her wine.

"Are you okay, Jackson?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

Hazel cocks an eyebrow at him to show she's not buying it. Jackson sees that and wants to try to brush it off and enjoy the night, but he's kept it bottled up long enough already, so he may as well just let it out.

"Okay, maybe I'm not fine. I've got a lot on my mind."

"I know you have that big title match against that jerk Baxter, but by the looks of it, that's not the only thing bugging you."

"I wish it were just that; at least I could handle it."

"What is it?"

"Okay, do you remember Jeremy Best?"

"The creepy little weirdo you used to hang out with, and who is also friends with that Big Bozo Baxter? Speaking of which, did you know that Baxter had a girlfriend? Kristy Vance. Yeah, he knocked her up a while back, and now she's on Ground Zero. Can you believe that?! I don't know her well enough, but I'm sure I already hate her as much as you hate Baxter…"

Jackson looks back at Hazel, trying to digest all that information best. Hazel can sense his bewilderment, and she stops talking.

"Wow, that is a lot to take in…where was I? Oh, right, Jeremy. Yeah, that's the guy, Baxter's friend and a former friend of mine."

"What about him?"

"Well, I've been having dreams about him."

Hazel gives Jackson a peculiar look.

"Not that kind of dream. My dreams usually involve me being the astronaut in Britney's Oops!... I Did It Again music where I give her more than the ring from the Titanic…oh and of course dreams about you!"

Hazel glares at Jackson at first, but she brushes it off.

"You're lucky you're cute, and I think I'd be into that. I did do some things with you, Xtacee, Monica, and Antonio…"

Jackson starts to think about that time with a smile but shakes it off.

"Back to my recurring dream about Jeremy. There's this mound of dirt with a tombstone sticking out, and near the tombstone is Jeremy's hand reaching out for help, like after Krash buried him alive at Back in Business…"

That image pops up in Jackson's head again, and suddenly, he can't think straight. He opens his eyes again, but he's not in the restaurant with Hazel. He's inside of his dream. He looks over, and there's the pile of dirt with Jeremy's hand sticking out. Jackson stares at what is before him, and he's stuck. He's frightened to his core so much that he can't move.

Finally, he can snap out of it and start to move. He walks toward the dirt mound and stops near Jeremy's hand. He doesn't know what to do as he stares at the hand.

"Jeremy…I am…I am so…sorry."

Jackson falls to his knees, and he starts to tear up.

"I'm so sorry, Jeremy. I'm sorry for stabbing you in the back and destroying our friendship. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be buried here. You wouldn't have done what you did to Krash. I wish I could take back what I did. Take it all back so we can be friends again. All of us, you, me, Nate, and Bryan…"

His mentioning of Bryan hangs in the air and lingers like a foul odor. It's a fair representation of Bryan Baxter.

"I'm sorry, Jeremy…"

Jackson reached out and grabbed the hand. He's about to let go when he can't.

"What the… what's going on?"

Suddenly, Jackson is pulled forward into the dirt by the hand, and everything goes black.

********************

Jackson wakes up, and he sees a familiar face hovering over him.

"Oh good, you're awake!"

"Jeremy?"

Jackson said with an air of disbelief.

"Of course it's me, silly! Who else would it be?!"

That is Jeremy, alright, chipper as ever. He's acting like he hasn't been missing for about two months.

"Come on and get out of bed, lazy bones! Our guests will be here soon, and Scooby-Doo is about to start!"

"What's going on? Where am I?"

"Oh, you silly goose, I found you passed out on my doorstep, so I brought you here to rest."

Jackson rubs his head in confusion; he's still trying to digest what he's hearing and seeing.

"What? How did I get here? Where am I?"

"Sheesh, so many questions! Get out of bed, and I'll tell you about it!"

Jeremy happily exits the room while Jackson remains in bed. He glances to his right and out the window, seeing the blue skies and bright sun. He can hear the faint sound of birds singing. It's like something out of a classic Disney movie, but unlike those, something feels off.

Jackson removes the blanket covering him and sees that he's not in the clothes he last remembers wearing; he's wearing pajamas, not just any pajamas. The pajamas are Undisputed Amigos pajamas that look homemade by Jeremy. Jackson cautiously removes himself from the bed as he swings his feet over the side to the floor. He sits on the side of the bed, trying to figure out what's happening.

The last thing he remembers is grabbing Jeremy's hand sticking out of the mound of dirt near his tombstone.

"Our guests will be here any minute, and Scooby-Doo is starting. Come on, Jackson!"

Jeremy shouts from downstairs.

"Guests?"

Jackson gets up from the bed and turns around to make the bed, but it's already been done. Weird, he thought. He shakes it off and heads downstairs, where Jeremy sits on the couch.

"Oh, there you are!"

Jeremy pats the empty couch cushion, and Jackson goes to sit down, but Jeremy stops him.

"Oh, sorry, but you can't sit there! That's my mistake; that's Krash's spot! You can sit beside me over here!"

Even more weirded out than before, Jackson sits on the couch beside Jeremy to the right.

"Jeremy, I can't be here; I have a match with Bryan at Lights Out for the North American Championship."

"Oh, that's nonsense! You don't have a match with Bryan because Bryan is on his way here too!"

"What? Who else is coming?"

"It'll be Bryan, Krash, and Nate. I hope you don't mind that I invited Nate. Surprisingly, he was eager to come."

That doesn't sound right at all. Nate would never be eager to hang out with Jeremy Best in a million years. Nate said he'd rather jump off a bridge than hang out with Jeremy.

"I don't think they're coming."

"Oh, don't be silly, of course they are!"

"Jeremy, where are we?"

"Friendtopia!"

Jackson looks out of the window nearby, and it does look like how Jeremy has described it before.

"How did I get here?"

"I don't know, but I found you on my doorstep. I was so happy to see my best amigo Jackson, but you looked hurt, so I fixed you up and put you in bed to rest. Also, I hope you are okay with putting you in those pajamas. Also, by what I saw down there, Hazel is a lucky woman!"

Jeremy winks at Jackson and playfully nudges him on the shoulder.

"I couldn't invite her, though; I hope you understand. I want it to be a boys-only day with my best pals!"

Jeremy laughs at something that happens on the television screen.

"Oh, that Scooby, he cracks me up!"

"Jeremy, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"For turning my back on you and creating the monster you became."

"What are you talking about? You would never turn your back on me! Neither would Bryan or Krash. I can't speak for Nate, but he seems like a decent enough fella. I know that you, Bryan, and Krash will always be there for me."

"Jeremy, I don't think Bryan or Krash are coming."

"Don't be silly, of course they're coming here, they wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Jackson is starting to get flustered by this and leans forward.

"Jeremy, none of this is real, okay?"

"Of course, this is real!"

"No, it's not! Bryan isn't coming because ever since you've been gone, I don't think he cares about where you've been. He's gotten too big of a head now with his North American title. He's a much more different Bryan than you knew. He's more vicious and ruthless than ever before. He doesn't care about what he does or who he hurts as long as it benefits him."

"Krash isn't coming either because of what you did to him, Jeremy. You scarred him for life when you kidnapped him. He wants nothing to do with you, just like you probably want nothing to do with me, but I'm sitting beside you for some reason."

Suddenly, the television shuts off. The world outside turns dark and bleak. Jeremy turns to Jackson, and no longer is there a smile but a blank stare.

"You're making that up."

Jeremy says in a monotone voice. There is no anger behind it, just an emptiness.

"No, I'm not making it up, Jeremy. All of what I said is real."

"You just don't want me to have any other friends, right?"

"What? No, that's not it."

"Then you don't want to be my friend?"

Jackson leans back in his seat and lets out a sigh.

"That's not it either, Jeremy. I want to be your friend, but my guilt about my actions won't allow that. I know you want nothing to do with me even though I sit beside you. I'm just trying to tell you the truth about those guys and what you did."

"I don't believe you, especially about Bryan. He would never turn his back on me, unlike you."

"Wait, didn't he do it once before?"

"That was a different time. Bryan has made some mistakes, but I can forgive him after everything he's done for me lately."

"You can forgive him when he's not shown he truly cares about you. He's not shown one ounce of remorse since you've been gone."

"You're just jealous of the friendship that Bryan and I share, Jackson. We could've had that, but you had to go and throw it all away."

"I know I messed up; I messed up big time. What I did to you wasn't right, but that wasn't me. That's no excuse, but that truly isn't me anymore. That's not the person I want to be."

"Bryan, on the other hand, hasn't changed, Jeremy. He's still the bully who pushes people around and doesn't care who he hurts. He's hurt me, Nate, and my friend Xtacee. He's not a good person, Jeremy. He hurt Krash, too, and you let him do that because of me. Because of what I did."

"Not everything is about you, Jackson. You can say you've changed, but you're still the same egomaniac who thinks everything is about him. It's like that one song says, you're so vain that you think this song is about you. That's you, Jackson. You think the whole world revolves around you."

"That was the old me; that's not me anymore. I'm a changed person. You weirdly helped with that. I wanted to be better because I saw what you had become. I noticed that monster you became and knew I didn't want to be like that anymore. I wanted to improve; I was tired of being the bad guy. I didn't want to end up like Bryan; I wanted to be like you. The old you that I know is still inside of you somewhere.

"Bryan can try to act like a good guy, but deep down, he's not that. He knows it, too. Bryan knows he's not a good person, so he lashes out. He only cares about himself. He doesn't care about anyone else. Ever since he got his hands on that title, it's all he's cared about, and he's done anything to keep it. He's bent every rule and destroyed anyone in his way."

"He doesn't need friends, he never did. It might be hard to hear, but I don't think he truly cares about you, Jeremy. Nate, he's a true friend. He'll always be at my side. Bryan, on the other hand, I can't say the same. He's not out there looking for you like Sir Stache and Mejor Amigo or like you when you were searching for Krash. He only cares about himself. It's about time I knock some sense into him with a superkick to the face and send him back to reality. I'm going to beat him, and I'm going to take the one thing he cares about."

The world outside suddenly turns bright again, and the television comes back on. Jeremy's smile has returned as well.

"I think I know why I'm here. I'm here so I can finally let go and stop blaming myself for what happened to you."

Jeremy doesn't acknowledge Jackson at all. It's like Jeremy doesn't hear him.

"I'm sorry for what I did, Jeremy. Believe me or not, I am sorry. I have to move on from this now. I can't blame myself for this anymore because it's not healthy. It wasn't my fault. I need to let go."

Jackson puts his hand on Jeremy's shoulder. Jeremy doesn't even flinch or look at Jackson.

"I hope I'll see you again soon, amigo."

********************

"Jackson! Wake up!"

Jackson opens his eyes to find Hazel shouting at him from across the table. He's back where he was before all of that.

"Jackson, are you okay?!"

"I think so, what happened?"

"You told me about that little weirdo Jeremy before you just blacked out for a moment."

"How long was I out?"

"Not long, about a minute, but I was getting worried."

Jackson felt he was gone for longer than a minute, but he won't question it. He sees that he's not in pajamas anymore.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, never better."

Jackson says with a smile.

He's finally released that guilt and feels like a thousand weights have been lifted off his shoulders. He can forgive himself for now for his past transgressions and focus on the now.

Focus on beating Bryan Baxter and becoming the new FWA North American Champion.​

 

[WelshyBOI]

Spoiler: Plain Text Version

The Coven plays…

THE DARK SIDE OF FRIENDSHIP

Ah, the FWA Server, a recreational paradise created in 2005, that stands as a beacon of fun, creativity, and on occasion, extreme levels of toxicity for those who are accepted into the world’s best gaming organization. Regardless of whether Trixie should’ve been accepted into such an elite organization of gamers, given the fact that she was a complete novice at most every game she had tried her hand at, she was certainly glad that she had been, for the FWA had given her something that she cherishes above everything else…

…friends.

It is two of her bestest friends, Blair and Celestia Ravenwood, with whom Trixie hangs out with today, as they make their way through the main lobby of the FWA Server. Surrounding them, as far as the eye can see, are a wide-ranging selection of games, and some of the world’s best gamers playing them.

We see the premier gamer in the entire server, Chris Peacock, battling (and handedly decimating) Funky Fedora at Dance Dance Revolution (DDR). It was but a few days ago that Trixie and Celestia had attempted to defeat Chris and his BFF Alyster at DDR…needless to say, like Funky Fedora, Trixie and Celestia had been utterly schooled.

They continue past the massacre on the dance pads, and notice Tommy Bedlam and his girlfriend having a particularly tough time in the popular board game, Operation. Tommy has a great deal of concern in his eyes as he attempts to remove something from the belly of his patient, before a wave of pride and relief sets in as Tommy completes his task, as he and his girlfriend jump up and down in joy, before hugging each other.

Continuing on, through what looks to be a portal, they see Katsu, Cali, and Ririko running around and catching Pokémon.

“There they are!” Trixie chirps, jumping up and down with excitement.

See, today was to be one of the greatest days of Trixie’s young life, as for the first time ever, her two favorite friend groups were going to hang out! Trixie looks to be bursting with excitement as she imagines all the fun that they were going to have together. Maybe if everyone gets along, YDS could join The Coven, and they could all be one BIG group of friends! This thought sends Trixie into overdrive as she charges towards the portal to the Pokémon game.

Blair and Celestia shake their heads in unison as Trixie rushes to be with her other friends, clearly not on the same wavelength as their dotty blonde friend when it comes to their opinions on YDS.

“I can’t wait ‘till we’ve done away with those stuck up, annoying, mouthy little snobs.” Celestia says, frowning contemptuously as she watches Cali Hayama catch a Vaporeon inside one of her weird magical balls. “I mean, look at that! Everyone thinks that they’re kind, noble people, and yet they imprison innocent creatures in little balls that are nowhere near big enough to house them! The heck!?”

“Don’t worry, sis,” Blair responds reassuringly, “our plan will work, and when it does, there’ll be nothing left of them but their soulless bodies.”

“Our E-Fed titles will be safe from their grubby mitts, and Trixie will only want to hang out with us.” Celestia says with a smirk.

Blair glances confusedly at her sister.

“Wait, ar-…are you jealous?” Blair asks.

“Of what?” Celestia responds, feigning ignorance.

Staring at her sister, Blair lets out a bellowing laugh.

“Oh my god, YOU ARE! HAHA!” Blair says, laughing hysterically. “You got the feels for Trixie!”

“NO I DON’T!” Celestia snaps back furiously. Celestia? Having ‘the feels’ for Trixie!? ABSURD!

“Don’t worry, sis, I’ll keep your secret,” Blair says, with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as she winds her sibling up, “and once we’re done with YDS, there’ll be no more competition getting between you and the love of your life!”

Celestia glares menacingly at Blair, wanting nothing more than to kick Blair in the pee-area, Trixie-style, but alas, they had a mission to complete.

Arriving at the portal to the Pokémon game, Blair and Celestia peer through to see Trixie chatting it up with her YDS buddies, who greet her with a happy hug.

“I doubt they’ll be smiling in a couple of minutes.” Celestia says menacingly.

“In a couple of minutes, baby sister, YDS’s souls will be trapped in a desolate wasteland for all eternity, and you’ll have Trixie all to yourself.” Blair says giggling, before jumping through the portal before her sister can retort.

Celestia scowls, before moodily walking through the portal after Blair, entering the Pokémon game.

Popping through the portal, Blair and Celestia find themselves in one of the prettiest places they have ever seen. Located in the Galar Region, The Wild Area serves as a multicultural habitat for a wide range of Pokémon types, and is a great location for evil Pokémon poachers to capture and detain innocent creatures, which they will then train and breed to compete in deadly pit fights. These “Pokémon Trainers” are truly disgusting, reprehensible people, and should be eradicated from the world.

Seeing Trixie converse merrily with “Yokai Death Squad”, who judging by their group name alone, are among the most sadistic groups of Pokémon poachers in the land, Blair and Celestia grimace in disgust. Sure, the witches that make up The Coven are far from innocent, and have been known to commit cruel acts of violence and cast sinister spells in order to achieve their goals, but at least they were up front about it…needless to say, Blair and Celestia would not let these manipulative women brainwash Trixie any longer!

Blair and Celestia march towards YDS, each wearing mean-looking scowls. Growing ever closer to their targets, a cute looking Eevee runs into the Ravenwood sisters’ path. Blair doesn’t hesitate in punting the squealing little critter into the distance like she was playing Madden 24. Seeing this act of animal cruelty, YDS turns their attention to Blair and Celestia.

“HEY!” Cali shouts furiously. “The hell did you do that for!?”

As YDS and the Ravenwood sisters march towards each other, looking ready to do battle, Trixie turns around, completely oblivious to any hostile feelings between the two groups.

“Oh, hey Blair! Hey Celery!” Trixie calls out merrily, as she skips past YDS and comes between the two groups. “Lemme introduce you to my friends! OMG, we’re gonna have so much fun together! Okay, okay…Blair, Celery, this is Cali-”

“There’s no need for pleasantries, Trix…we’ve all met before, remember?” Blair reminds Trixie with a shit-eating grin. “That time where we absolutely whooped them, along with seven other teams in the E-Fed Battle Royal, and won the Trios Championships?”

Trixie’s eyes light up as she recalls one of the greatest moments of her entire life, where she finally proved that she belonged in the FWA Server with all the other elite gamers.

“OH YEAH! I remember that! THAT WAS SO FUN!” Trixie says, hopping up and down on the spot, giddily.

“Hell yeah it was!” Celestia says while high-fiving Trixie. Blair and Celestia wear smug looks as they notice the incredible levels of salt resonating from the YDS women.

“Yeah, it was fun.” Katsu says, a little smirk visible from under her purple mask. “Can’t wait for our rematch in a couple of weeks time, too.”

“Wait, we’re playing again soon!?” Trixie asks, her excitement meter reaching maximum!

The YDS ladies all smile at Trixie’s maxed out excitement.

“Oh yeah,” Cali says, chuckling, “and when we win and take your Trios Titles, you guys can have a rematch too!”

Trixie’s excitement fades slightly.

“But, why do you wanna take Goldie away from me?” Trixie asks, a concerned look on her face as she stares at her smiling YDS friends.

“Because, that’s how this whole thing works, Trix.” Katsu says, a matter of factly. “What, did you think that when you won the Trios Titles, you would get to keep them forever?”

“Y-...Yes?” Trixie responds, confused.

“Heh, idiotic.” Ririko chuckles.

“Look, Trix…as a champion, you’re gonna be called upon to defend your title. Everyone in the game wants what you have, including us, and at the end of the day, even though we consider you a friend, we gotta do what’s best for us. It’s nothing personal, Trix…just business.” Cali explains.

Hearing Cali’s confirmation of YDS’ mission to take her title away sends Trixie stumbling backwards, as though she had just been shot through the chest with a 50 cal’ bullet. Blair and Celestia steadies Trixie, who looks up at her YDS ‘friends’, her eyes watering under the weight of their betrayal.

“B-But-...we were supposed to be friends….” Trixie says, tearing up.

Blair smiles sadistically.

“Trixie, we are frie-” Katsu attempts to speak, but is interrupted by Blair.

“That’s enough.” Blair says, an evil smile on her face as she puts on a mighty performance. “I won’t sit idly by and watch as you crush Trixie’s heart into pieces like the cruel bitches you are!”

“That’s not what we’re tryi-” Cali tries to reason, but Blair once again interrupts.

“Luckily, I came prepared for such a situation as this.” As Blair speaks, she closes her eyes, and a golden object slowly appears from out of thin air, dangling from her neck.

“What the hell is this!?” Cali shouts, demanding an answer, as the object fully takes shape.

Blair’s eyes open, and are filled with malicious intent as a golden symbol, resembling the eye at the center of the golden object, appears on her forehead.

“I refuse to allow you pathetic fools the opportunity to take our titles!” Blair shouts in an echoing voice as the wind becomes heavy, blowing everyone back a step. “Instead, we’ll play a game of a different sort…a far more dangerous kind. One where, when you lose, your souls will become trapped for all eternity…”

Everyone around, human and Pokémon alike, run and duck for cover from whatever darkness Blair has brought into this otherwise peaceful land.

“...IN THE SHADOW REALM! MUAHAHAHA!” Blair laughs maniacally as purple smoke envelopes everything in its wake.

“Where in the H-E double hockey sticks have you brought us, Blair!?” Cali shouts furiously.

“Haven’t you been listening?” Blair responds patronizingly. “We’re gonna play a game. Whichever team loses will have their souls trapped for all eternity in this beautiful little space in purgatory called the Shadow Realm. Simple really.”

“Bu-but Blair, I don’t wanna be stuck here forever!” Trixie says, nervously.

“NEITHER DO WE!” YDS reiterates in unison.

“Don’t you worry, Trix. I wouldn’t have brought us here if we had a chance of losing.” Blair says, confidently. “Now then, shall we begin?”


<< 00:00. >>

Yokai Death Squad The Coven

“Let’s duel!” Blair exclaims as she draws her 5 card hand and proceeds to make the first move of this Shadow Game.

“I summon Sangan in attack mode!”

As Blair vigorously places the card in one of the zones on her duel disk, suddenly, a three-eyed monster appears from out of nowhere.

“Since it's the first turn of the duel, I can’t attack, so I must end my turn.”

As per the rules of a Tag Duel, a member of the opposing team must play next, and so Cali bravely steps forward.

“You’re gonna regret this, Blair. I draw!” Cali draws a card from the top of her deck to start her turn. “I summon Topaz Tiger in attack mode!”

“Uh-oh…” Blair mutters, nervously as-…

“Topaz Tiger, ATTACK!” Cali orders furiously, and the menacing tiger leaps forward and claws its prey to death, subtracting the difference in the two monsters’ attack points from Team Coven’s life points!


Yokai Death Squad The Coven

“Uh, Blair…I thought you said there was no way we’d lose…” Celestia says, staring at her sister, concerned.

“I made it so they would have crap decks! It shoulda worked!” Blair replies, panicking.

“Well it looks like whatever trick you tried to pull has backfired, haha!” Cali says in celebration. “I’ll set one card face down, and end my turn. Your move, bitches-I mean, witches!”


<< 04:38. >>


Yokai Death Squad The Coven

…it hasn’t gone too badly for The Coven thus far, despite the Ravenwood sisters’ squabbling, and also the fact that Trixie has thus far refused to attack YDS during her turns due to not wanting to hurt her friends, despite them admitting to wanting to take her title…yes, despite all this, they have managed to eek out a lead in the early stages of this duel…

…speaking of which…

“ATTACK!” Celestia orders, as her Beaver Warrior slashes at Katsu’s Ruby Carbuncle, dealing 400 damage to YDS’s lifepoints.

“NO, RUBY!” Cali cries out as her favorite monster gets destroyed.


Yokai Death Squad The Coven

Unfortunately, instead of being destroyed and sent to the Graveyard pile, Ruby merely backs up into the Spell/Trap card zone, joining several other monsters that The Coven had seemingly attempted to destroy throughout the duel.

“WHY AREN’T THEY DYING!?” Celestia asks, completely flabbergasted and panicking.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, eh?” Cali says, smirking.

“SHUT UP, NERD!” Celestia retorts, with petty insults being the only thing she has left to attack with.

“Yes, yes, are you done with your turn, witch?” Katsu asks, impatiently.

Celestia scowls. “I end my turn.” She says, reluctantly.

“I Draw!” Ririko exclaims in her native tongue, starting her turn. “And since we now have seven monsters on the field, thanks to their special ability to go to the Spell and Trap zone instead of the graveyard, I can tribute all seven of our monsters, in order to summon…

…RAINBOW DRRRRRRAGON!”

Blair, Celestia and Trixie stare up at the gigantic, majestic dragon that has just appeared before them, with dropped jaws…they were truly doomed to spend eternity in the Shadow Realm.

“ATTACK!!!”


<< 07:22. >>

Yokai Death Squad The Coven

Rainbow Dragon’s attack on Beaver Warrior has put The Coven on the brink of defeat. They have since spent turn after turn setting their weak monsters in defense mode in order to protect their life points, and the only monster they have left is Trixie’s weak little Shining Friendship card…

…and up against YDS’s mighty Rainbow Dragon, it just wasn’t enough…

…or was it?

“ATTACK! End this duel!” Ririko commands without hesitation!

And just as Rainbow Dragon is about to destroy The Coven’s final line of defense, it is Blair who speaks up.

“Not so fast, you’ve activated my trap card, Zero Force! Your monster’s attack points become ZERO until the end of our next turn!”

YDS glare at Blair in both shock and hatred. They had been in control of the duel. They had gotten their strongest monster on the field and had seemingly wiped out The Coven’s defenses, but this one counter…and it was over. With their Rainbow Dragon’s attack points at Zero, next turn, The Coven would attack their dragon and deal a fatal 1300 damage to YDS’s life points.

“I-…I end my turn.” Ririko utters, defeated.

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes set upon Trixie…

…it was her turn. She had not once attacked YDS during this entire duel. She hadn’t had the heart too, but now, it fell upon her to deal the killing blow.

“Trixie, it’s your turn.” Celestia says somberly. She knew how much Trixie values friendship, and she also knew that it would break Trixie’s heart if she were to attack her friends in YDS, but she had too. “Once you draw your card, you must turn Shining Friendship into attack mode, and…”

“And finish this.” Blair finishes coldly.

Shakingly, and with a sickly look about her, Trixie draws a card from atop her deck, and then proceeds to change her monster from defense mode, to attack mode, as instructed…

“And now, attack.” Blair orders.

“I-...I can’t,” Trixie responds, her voice shaky, “t-they’re my friends. I-I can-”

“WE’RE YOUR FRIENDS!” Blair exclaims furiously. “If you don’t attack, then their Dragon will regain its strength!...What, do you think they’ll spare us? THEY CAN’T! There’s only one way out of here, and that’s ending this duel. If you don’t attack, they will, and then me, you, and Celestia will be trapped in this place forever, and it’ll be all your fault!”

“How the hell is it her fault!?” Cali speaks up. “It was you that trapped us here, not her!”

“Because you selfish weebs are tryna take our titles!” Blair responds defensively. “What, winning the Trios titles in the CJW E-Fed wasn’t enough for you, huh? Can’t be content with that, so you gotta take Trixie’s title too!? What sorta friend does that!?”

“It wasn’t personal!” Katsu exclaims angrily, “we jus-”

“‘WASN’T PERSONAL!?’” Celestia responds in shock. “In what universe is Trixie busting her damn ass off to earn her first bit of success in life, only for her selfish-ass “friends” to swoop in and try and take that away from her at the first opportunity, NOT FUCKING PERSONAL!”

“Trixie, please…” Blair pleads, “you gotta choose…it’s us or them.”

Trixie looks as though there’s a war being waged inside her mind. Her eyes well up and she begins pulling at her long blonde hair, panickedly. She doesn’t know what to do.

Seeing her in this predicament, Katsu closes her eyes for a moment, before speaking up.

“Trixie,” She says somberly, “...do what you gotta do.”

Trixie’s eyes shoot up to meet Katsu’s, tears falling down her face.

“I-...I-I’m sorry….” Trixie says sobbingly, as she stares at her old friends…

…

“ATTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!”


Yokai Death Squad The Coven

Winners: The Coven at 11:42.

 

[AON]

-=-=-=

Oh boy, oh joy, It's that time when the good ship FWA set sail for the globe at large, but it doesn't happen overnight, of course. You can't just snap your fingers and, hey ho, we got a show in an entirely different part of the world. The travelling FWA circus has to get engineers, producers, and ring crews, ship them all over to Kinshasa and make sure production goes swimmingly for the second annual lights out. Maybe not so vital was hotel accommodations. Several members of the FWA crew were held up in a lovely five-star hotel a stone's throw away from the beautiful Stade des Martyrs . Here we find roving reporter Katie Baxter, standing outside the hotel dressed up for the typical DROC weather; she stands there, with various production notes in one hand and in the other, holding a half-eaten apple half-heartedly she throws the apple towards a nearby industrial-sized dumper.

"OW-!"

What the hell?! Katie jumped back in shock as a very clear and loud voice echoed from the trash container. She took a step forward as if to confront whatever it was making that noise before stopping.

"No." And with that, Katie turns on her heel and starts making for the entrance back into the hotel.

"OI-!" Says the voice from the dumpster. "Where ya goin'?"

Katie glanced back at the dumpster. "Um, back into the hotel?"

"But I had, like... A thing. A whole thing!"

Katie sighed. "What?" She asked, more out of curiosity than concern.

"I've been waiting for some kind of backstage interviewer to come out all day. So I can do a whole... Special... Thing. You know how these things go. You're a backstage interviewer, so your job is just to kind of wander about waiting for people to come around to talk to you."

"Right..." Katie nodded in agreement. "But you're a talking dumpster. So... I kinda don't want to."

There was a sigh. "I'll give you a hundred dollars."

"... Keep talking."

"Ya heard me, a hundred dollary-doos for a totally natural spontaneous interview."

Katie sighs, massaging her templates, wondering if a hundred dollars was worth this kind of irritation before shrugging. "Fine... Whatever."

"GREAT-! Come out again."

"What?"

"It has to look totally natural and spur of the moment!"

Katie stared at the talking dumpster for a second, and just shrugged. Hey. Free money is free money. As she went back through the doorway, she counted to three, and...

Oh boy, oh joy, It's that time when the good ship FWA set sail for the globe at large, but it doesn't happen overnight, of course. You can't just snap your fingers and, hey ho, we got a show in an entirely different part of the world. The traveling FWA circus has to get engineers, producers, and ring crews, ship them all over to Kinshasa and make sure production goes swimmingly for the second annual lights out. maybe not so vital was hotel accommodations. Several members of the FWA crew were held up in a lovely five-star hotel a stone's throw away from the beautiful Stade des Martyrs . Here we find roving reporter Katie Baker, standing outside the hotel dressed up for the typical DROC weather; she stands there, with various production notes in one hand and in the other, mostly eaten apple.

"Certainly, nothing strange or annoying is happening here." She spoke aloud, pointedly. "Just a normal day, I might do my tax returns today, it's so boring and dull."

She half-heartedly throws the apple towards a nearby industrial-sized dumper, and sure enough-

"Showtime, baby!" The dumpster lid was flung back with a loud BANG, and Katie blinked, as a giant possum rose out of the dumpster, almost angelically. Well, not quite a giant possum. More of a giant possum-man. Man-possum. Human-sized man-possum guy. Something along those lines. The possum struck a pose with a flourish, and Katie felt inclined to applaud politely. "Please, please, hold yer applause." The possum requested whilst gesturing for more applause.

Katie eventually stopped applauding, much to the possum's dismay. "So-"

"Katie Baxtah!" The giant possum declared, leaning forward and booping his nose against hers, before whispering into her ear. "I'm gonna steal yer job."

"What?" Katie asked, blinking. "I don't think I heard that."

"I know, I know, yer prolly stunned silent, at the presence of Ground Zero Season Four Star, the iconic Mamifero De Basura!" The possum instead declared, posing once more rather than expanding on his whispered statement. "Or Trash Mammal, fer those of ya who are into the whole brevity thing."

Katie made a brief humming noise, the kind of noise one makes when presented with new information they didn't particularly ask for. "Trash Mammal. Right." She glanced at the dumpster, her face scrunching up. "I gotta ask. What's with the dumpster stuff?"

"Aesthetic."

"Oh." Katie hesitated. "So it's not because of the free stuff people throw away, that's good to know."

"Oh no, that's absoloitly part of it. Case in point-" The Trash Mammal ducked out of view, shuffling around in the dumpster. Katie distinctly heard the sound of broken glass shifting around, before Trash Mammal reappeared. "Behold! A poifectly good Jeremy Best shirt that someone threw away. That's just good kindling for my fireplace."

"Hm." Katie glanced around. "Where's your tag partner? The luchadore legend?"

"Who? Boneface? Oh, he's..." Trash Mammal flailed a limb aimlessly. "Y'know. Around. Probably."

"He's... Not right behind me, is he?"

"Hang on, lemme check." Trash Mammal leaned his head, glancing behind Katie. "No."

"Oh. Good. I figured, skeleton guy, likes to be spooky, that sort of thing."

"Katie, Kata, Katana, Katomoid, that ain't what Skelly is about. Much like how I'm more than your humble possum, with more to m'self than celebrating trash, my good friend Mr. Funnybones is more than a typical spookum jumpscare kinda guy. Infact, you can ask him yourself."

"Is he... In the dumpster with you?"

"No." Trash Mammal shook his head, grabbing a rock from his dumpster and hurling it at one of the hotel windows, several stories up. It bonked against a window, which was soon yanked open as a particularly confused stagehand poked their head out.

"OI!" Trash Mammal shouted. "ROOM C-12?"

"TWO ROOMS THAT WAY." The stagehand shouted back, pointing to his left.

"THANK YOU."

"NO PROBLEM." The stagehand went back into his room, closing the window.

"What a nice fellow." Trash Mammal noted, aiming another rock at the gestured room as Katie watched on. He hurled another rock, which struck the window. After a brief second, the window opened, and a mid-40's man with a karate headband on poked his head out. "Yes?"

Trash Mammal immediately hurled another rock, striking the man in the nose and sending him reeling back into his room, the window slamming shut behind him.

"Noice, right?" Trash Mammal held up a hand. Katie Baxter hesitated for several seconds, before acquiescing, and slapping his palm. "Roight. Halloween Knight time."

He effortlessly hurled another rock, this time to a room much closer. Immediately, a bone-masked man stuck his head out. "Yo."

"Ahoy, Skeletor. Katie wants t' say hoi." Trash Mammal said, gesturing towards Katie.

"What?! I can't hear you from over here!" Halloween Knight shouted back. "Your favourite colour is yellow? I mean, I can understand why you'd throw a rock at my window to tell me that, communication between tag team partners is very important! My favourite colour is a mix between blue and yellow that I like to call bellow!"

"NO, NOT YELLOW. Katie wants t' say hello!"

"Katie likes to eat Jello? Again. Good to know-! Jello is a nutritious and surprisingly tasty snack to enjoy."

"HELLO. NOT JELLO. KATIE WANTS T'SAY HELLO-!"

"Oh-!... Sorry... Can't do it!"

"Why not?!"

"Huh?!"

"I SAID WHY NOT!"

"I have a reputation to keep! I need to look all spooky and stuff-! I can't have my first promo in this company be just "Hey, how are ya-! I'm The Trick, I have to be... Y'know... Tricky."

"You could try and sneak up on her and jump scare her!"

"What?"

"I SAID YOU COULD TRY AND SNEAK UP ON HER AND JUMP SCARE HER!"

"Would she not see that coming due to this incredibly loud conversation?!"

"Naaaa. We're too sneaky and covert for her."

During this whole conversation, a clearly within earshot of Katie Baxter leaning against the dumpster playing snake on her phone. That's right. Katie has snake on her phone, like it's 2001. She doesn't trust modern technology; why would she want an iPhone when her Nokia phone works just fine? Thank you very much,

"You do have a point. We are masters of the dark arts. Alright, distract Katie while I come down."

With that, Halloween Knight's skeleton head sweeps in, and he closes the window, at which point Trash Mammal turns towards Katie, who has closed down her phone after realizing that she was needed for a distraction. Smart lass.

"Hi!"

"Sup?"

Trash Mammal drummed his fingers on the dumpster, searching for a topic of information. "... So Pluto isn't a planet anymore. What's the deal with that?"

"Didn't Pluto get declassified as a planet in like 2006?"

"Yeah, but people are still pretty upset about it."

"Hm."

"...."

"...."

"...."

"Y'know I've been meaning to ask, what kind of accent is that?"

"Oh, I'm glad y' asked! See, it's-"

"BOO-!"

Oh thank god, before we had to discuss Trash Mammals ridiculously inconsistent accent, from behind the dumpster out leaps a fully grown man dressed as the spookiest skeleton you ever did see, as he waves his arms around wildly, in front of a rather bemused looking Katie Baxer.

"... Oh."

"Ha, you got her, you got her good-!"

Halloween Knight doesn't seem to be done, however; he stalks towards Katie Baxter, his hands outstretched in claw-like movements, making motions like a classic monster from a 1930s Hollywood horror movie, as he speaks in a low and quite frankly spooky manner.

"When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls. Whenever candlelights flicker where the air is deathly still — that is the time when ghosts are present, practising their terror with ghoulish delight!"

Katie looks at Trash Mammal with an eyebrow raised.

"He does that sometimes. It's his thing."

"Indeed it is! The Marcabe! The Dark! The ghoulish, and the things that go bump in the night! Come, Katie, dance with me, come and dance the dance of the damned. Come and dance for the lost souls! Come and dance for the tortured, hellbound being. Dance for the Kung. Fu. Boom. Or should I say Kung Fu-DOOMED!" Halloween Knight shook his arms for added effect, his wordplay echoing across the lot.

There was a long pause.

Trash Mammal turned to Katie. "A'ight so when I said Bonehead was more than jus' a spookum jumpscares kinda guy-"

"Yeah-"

"I probably shoulda prefaced with more context-"

"No, no, I get i-"

"Like yeah I guess he likes the jumpscare aspect, the guy's like the embodiment of Halloween-"

"I imagine."

"But trust me, the more you know 'im, the less one-dimensional he is."

"Like you?"

"Bingo with a Bin."

"Right. Bin. I get it, because... You."

"She's a quick learner, Ribcage."

"Know who ISN'T a quick learner, though?" Halloween Knight inquired, stepping up and slapping the side of the dumpster.

Katie cleared her throat. "Is this the part where you start talking trash-"

"Eh?" Trash Mammal blinked.

"- about Kung Fu Boom?" Katie finished, like a true professional.

"You're damn right!" Halloween Knight declared, shuffling on his feet in a mildly groovy manner. "Jimmy! Karl! You dug your own grave when you laid your hands on Trash Mammal here! You made this a thing! Trash, tell 'em what you wanted!"

"My own proime toime half hour talk show, with ya bois Jackson & Nate as the very first guests."

"Trash, tell 'em what you got instead!"

"A pair of bag handling bozos makin' somethin' outta nothin'!"

"That's right! You've made a pair of enemies for life, because if you're dealin' with The Trash, you're getting The Trick! Halloween might be a few more weeks away, but when Lights Out comes, it'll be Garbage Day for you! And this is of course, isn't just any match. No. No. No. This is a dumpster match. This is our match! Mi Amigo here has never lost a dumpster match."

"Really?" Katie perked eye eyebrows in interest, while Trash Mammal glared at his partner. "How many have you had?"

"Well, ya see... M' partner might've been a touch overzealous, an'... That's to say... None..."

"Right, that's what I mean; he's undefeated in this form of combat; sure, he's never won one either, but there's no one, not one man, woman, child or mammal you can rely on more than The Trash Mammal."

"That's right, Kung Fu Karl. Jimmy Boom Boom. They're stepping into my world. They think they can handle a dumpster match? They think they can adopt the dumpster? I was born into the dumpster, molded by it, I didn't smell the fresh air until I was a mammal, and by then, it was nothing to me but blinding; the dumpsters betray you because they belong to me!"

After that topical Dark Knight rises reference (Jesus christ, that movie is like ten years old) Katie Baxter can't help but to jump in. "And how does your experience in dumpsters help when it comes to Dumpster matches?"

"....What?"

"Well I mean, how would having trash and dumpsters be your thing, help you lock away Kung Fu Boom in a dumpster?"

"Well... I mean... Ummm..." Trash Mammal glanced at Halloween Knight, inwardly cursing him for putting him in this situation, whilst also gesturing for assistance. Halloween Knight shrugged. "You know... I'm the Trash Mammal... I like trash... I hang out in dumpsters and that'll help because..."

"..."

"...."

"..."

"HEY, LOOK AT HALLOWEEN KNIGHT DANCE-!"

Taking his cue for a distraction, Halloween Knight effortlessly struts into one of his signature dances, his knees wobbling too and fro, as Katie Baxer stares at them as if mesmerized before and as Knight stops, Katie shakes her head befuddled.

"I forgot what we were talking about."

"We were about to sign off, Katie."Me an' Whitey Knighty were about to call it a promo and head to our rooms."

"Will this be a good introduction promo for new viewers?" Halloween Knight asked.

"Wait, do you not sleep in the dumpster?" Katie asked at the same time.

"Yeah, I mean, nah, I mean - LOOK OVER THERE!"

Katie, bless her heart, did exactly that.

"Huh. Nothing there. You guys aren't good at distractions." She noted, turning back.

She was met with an empty dumpster, and an empty space where Halloween Knight was.

"Guys...?"

Spooky laughter echoed throughout the lot, the rattling of trash cans in the distance, as Katie wisely decided to call it a night and head back into the hotel.

Above the whisper of the wind, she could only barely make out the words...

"Trick or Trash, baby!"

THE END (?)












(yes)






(until the next Trick or Trash match of course)





(whenever that is)




(boy this is a lot of subtitles for an epilogue)​

 

[CakeWalker]

THE GREEN KNIGHT - VOLUME I
[these particular roleplays will only be used exclusively for PPV events with inspiration from fantasy sources]

One - ‘The Expectation’
Madison was not fond of her current placement within the Kingdom of Günwhorfe. Both her parents had been members of the Warrior Class and had fallen in battle during her early childhood. As was the custom within the Kingdom, all bastards were sent to Northstar Tower to be trained in the four necessary skills required to become a graduate of the Tower. Life in the tower was tough, and very few ever graduated; they would either suffer irreversible mental damage that made them suitable to continue their training, or, for those less fortunate, they would lose and simply cease to live. It was often suggested that death was a gift in comparison to the life that was expected of a graduate.

Madison had no intention of remaining within the tower. She had been living within its walls for nearly her entire life, and it was, in many ways, the only home she had known. Some might argue that Lady Northstar was the closest thing to a mother she had, but their relationship was less paternal. It lacked the warm embrace that offered security when it was needed most; instead, it was rooted in duty. Lady Northstar had a duty to create Champions, and Madison had a duty to become the Champion the Kingdom needed. Her life was dedicated to this goal, and failing to achieve it would mean her entire life had been wasted. She would rather offer herself as tribute to the Gods than live a life of shame and embarrassment that came with failure. Very soon, she would come of age, and if she didn't meet the Kingdom's 'Expectation,' she would be discarded and forced to leave as an Exile.

Madison couldn't argue with the facts. Under the tutelage of the tower, or as she often referred to it, the 'Northstar Regime' (though only in private and never within earshot of the Lady), she always felt healthy and in a condition more suited to survive in a world dictated and dominated by combat. The teachings weren't solely about fighting techniques with a blade; those tasks were often left to the more routine Battle Masters. There was an emphasis on always being in peak physical condition when stepping into battle. This way, when it came to actual combat, it felt as if it were the easiest part of the entire week.

Lady Northstar, however, wasn't solely focused on improving Madison physically. She understood that mental strength was just as important for becoming a successful fighter. Everything that had been introduced and instilled in her had allowed her to flourish and become the best version of herself. However, at nine and ten years old, with only a few months until her 'Expectation,' Madison found herself disagreeing with the Lady for the first time in years. It wasn't like her to argue, but what she was being told made very little sense to her, and she didn't understand why she was being asked to pursue it.
Lady Northstar: I simply don't understand why this has to be such an issue. The best way to understand an opponent is to get inside their head, so you can navigate their thought process, dig down, and unearth their vulnerabilities and weaknesses.

On this basis, Madison didn't actually disagree. Battle Master Nakajima had spent a lot of time with the students in the fighting yards, emphasising the importance of focusing on the mind as being just as vital on the battlefield as the body used to protect it. However, the principle of what was being suggested created a knot in her stomach, a feeling she couldn't shake.

Madison: I don't see the benefit of this endeavour, Sydney.

As soon as she had used the Lady's first name, she realised she had made a mistake. She had gotten comfortable in a manner that was not befitting for those training in the tower, especially not within a private setting. Northstar's response was delivered with controlled anger and rage that could strike fear into the hearts of all those who had not trained within the tower. For those who had completed all four of their skills tests, this was a clear signal to shut up and listen or potentially regret their decision for the rest of the season.

Lady Northstar: Student Gray is reminded that until one has been granted permission to address their elder by their given name, one is expected to respect the title.

Even though they were in disagreement, Madison knew she had to apologise.

Madison: My sincerest apologies, Lady Northstar. It's just that with 'The Expectation' only four full moons away, I don't understand how this endeavour is likely to tip the scale of probability in my becoming the best Champion for the Kingdom.

Lady Northstar: If I am telling you it will improve your chances, then I would caution you to take my advice. Don't allow yourself to think that just because one is so close, it doesn't mean they are not capable of falling so far in just a few moments. Kingdoms were built over lifetimes, but have also collapsed in a matter of minutes. My teachings all have a purpose, and even if you do not understand the reasoning at the start of the lesson, it doesn't mean that you won't be grateful for them in the end.

Madison: You have always taught me to hold my position if I feel like a bad choice has been presented, even when it comes from those we have sworn loyalty to. This feels like one of those moments.

Lady Northstar was clearly frustrated in her response, but at the same time, Madison was using her own lessons against her, and the leader of the Tower couldn't help but smile. Everyone within the Kingdom knew that Madison was the Lady's favourite, but this honour seemed to come with as many disadvantages as advantages, and it was rare that the benefits were ever truly witnessed by others.

Lady Northstar: Have I led you down the wrong path at any point since I started working with you?

Madison: No.

Lady Northstar: And would you say that my methods have yielded good or bad outcomes?

Madison knew she was being backed into a corner here. There was no escaping it, and as much as she was against the idea, she couldn't argue with the results.

Madison: I must concede, I struggle to recall an outcome that has been bad.

Lady Northstar: So, on that basis, don't you think if I have an idea, it is only being put forward to benefit you and improve your chances of success?

Madison was going to have to agree. She hated it, but she really knew she had no choice.

Madison: I agree with you.

Lady Northstar: Then are you going to agree to stop acting like a child and be the woman I know you are more than capable of being and just go out of your comfort zone for just a few days.

Madison: Fine, I'll attend the banquet tonight, but I won't pretend to enjoy it. Don't push me any further, or I might change my mind.

Sydney gave Madison a piercing look that spoke volumes, and Madison knew that once she had given her word to The Lady, there was no turning back.


* * * * * * *

Two - ‘The Direction’
Lady Northstar, the head of the Tower, typically represented the King at important banquets or royal suppers. If she couldn't attend, a Champion of the Tower would take her place to ensure representation and show the kingdom's commitment. However, Madison found it unusual that she, a non-graduate, was chosen for this role during the feast of Hog's Mass, especially when Lady Northstar was present in the kingdom for a solemn duty or to address a disturbance.

When Madison entered the Royal Hall, it was unusually quiet, with only half a dozen members of the Court of Günwhorfe gathered at the Triangle Table. The absence of additional tables added to Madison's confusion about why she had been asked to attend.

The King of Günwhorfe belonged to the Arthurian Dynasty, which once ruled over all the small kingdoms. Over the centuries, family members scattered far and wide. The kingdom's stability relied on proving the survival of a royal family member, even if distantly related, through seers or wizards. This was vital because lords would often falsely claim kinship to secure positions of power. Zaphod Krish, a true-blooded member of the Dynasty, earned his subjects' respect through kindness and appreciation for their dedication to the Kingdom. However, like many surviving Dynasty members, he lacked a warrior's renown, making him dependent on loyal warriors willing to sacrifice themselves to protect him.

Zaphod Krish: Apprentice Gray, you might be perplexed about why you were invited to a seemingly uneventful banquet with only a modest meal and a handful of council members. However, your presence here was, in fact, a test, and I must say you have passed it.

Madison had mixed emotions about the situation. She had become accustomed to Sydney's constant testing and was used to facing challenges at all hours. Yet, her stubbornness had blinded her to the possibility that the banquet itself might be a test.

Zaphod Krish: And your unwillingness to attend is not something I take as a personal insult. In fact, based on what I have seen from Northstar Tower, you might be exactly what we are looking for at this time. Completing your trials and becoming a decorated Champion comes with its own benefits, not just for those who don the armour but also for every citizen of the kingdom. However, at this time, I need something more, something different. And I believe you might possess the skills needed for such a quest. I have already received the recommendations of Lady Northstar, but before I send you on this endeavour, I need to make a judgement for myself.

Madison at this point couldn't work out whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. It was certainly something, and most likely would involve her leaving the confines of the tower.

Madison: Your Majesty, I do not understand what you are asking of me at this time.

The other members of the small council murmured amongst themselves but were silenced by a raising of the hand as Zaphod spoke once again.

Zaphod Krish: Have you heard of the Wanderers, or the Nomads perhaps?

Madison had certainly heard stories, but they were normally things of Legends. Individuals who were Champions or at an adjacent level of training from other Kingdoms, sent out into the world with a more focused mission. A particular task that, no matter how difficult or seemingly impossible it was, meant that they would be forced to wander and would not be allowed to return home until their task had been completed. They were the stuff of fairy tales, and with no recent great wars or sightings of mythical beasts, there had been no need for a Wanderer.

Madison: I have only heard stories around the fire, Lord.


Zaphod Krish: Well, Apprentice Gray, I can confirm that a Wanderer is much more than a story. They are very much real people, and although I have never warranted one myself, I can inform you that, if you are willing, I do believe that you should be the first person I task to walk the steps of the Nomadic life.

Madison was caught off guard. It was an honour and a privilege to even be considered for such a duty, but all of this, all at once, left her confused and at a loss for words. And yet, she understood her duty and knew that silence was not appropriate in this situation.

Madison: I am prepared for my duty if it is asked of me, Lord. If I may ask, what would be the purpose of abandoning the life of a Champion and pursuing the life of a Nomad?

Zaphod pushed himself off his ornate throne, a warm smile gracing his face as he rose to his feet.

Zaphod Krish: I will admit to you, Apprentice Gray, that this undertaking will not be easy. It will be a challenging life to lead, with a difficult road ahead of you. You will not be judged or deemed unworthy for deciding to leave my chambers and instead continue down the path of a Champion. That is why I will provide you with all the information regarding the task, and then you can choose to stand by my side and join me for a final feast, or you can kneel before the throne and return to the tower to resume your training.

The choice presented itself as bravery or loyalty, or at least that's how it appeared, but in Madison's mind and heart, all she could hear was the word 'cowardice.' She understood that if she chose submission and returned to the Tower, she would be taking the easiest path, even without knowing where this road would lead. Tonight, she already sensed that it would mark her final feast.

Madison: My ears are yours, Lord.

Zaphod returned to his throne, preparing to inform Madison of the task at hand.

Zaphod Krish: Although you may not be aware, Apprentice Gray, beyond the walls of our Kingdom, in distant realms, trouble is brewing. Distances, Kingdoms, Principalities, and entire Nations have fallen and been laid to waste by a treacherous group of crones. Long ago, these hags were loyal to the Arthurian Dynasty and all that came with the honour of serving the bloodline. However, as time has passed, the promises of fathers and mothers very soon become promises of the past. It seems that this Coven no longer views themselves as loyal to the crowns of the realms. It is being professed that there can only be one crown and one king.

The One King Theory was the belief that following the death of King Arthur, the realm would grow stronger and more stable under the leadership of the most worthy individual. It had often been suggested that a Knight known as Lancelot would be the next in line for the throne. However, to ensure stability, the decision was made to divide Arthur's bloodline into smaller kingdoms and realms, seen as a safer option that would avoid future conflicts and wars. Advocating for the One King Theory was met with severe consequences, often resulting in exile or death. Mentioning O.K.T. was not something done freely.

Zaphod Krish: These witches have an agenda, and they must be stopped. If you are willing to undertake this task, not just for me or the kingdom, but for the entire realm, then I would be honoured to name you my Wanderer.

Madison: Your Majesty, which of these witches should I seek out first?

Zaphod Krish: The snake's head is always the best place to start. Cut off the head, and perhaps the rest of the body will wither and die, or at least make for the wind and attempt to flee before further cuts of the blade are made. You should seek out 'The Enchantress of the Moons.' Although finding her domain will be no easy feat, you must be aware that, in order to bring deliverance to Witch Kleio De Santos, you will need to be battle-hardened and willing to face peril at a moment's notice.

Madison didn't need to think any further. She was certain that this was the path she needed to follow.

Madison: I, Madison Gray of Northstar Tower, offer myself as tribute and pledge to perform any solemn duties entrusted to me by the Good King Zaphod Krish of the Kingdom of Günwhorfe. This is my sacred oath, and it binds me to my duty.

And as the words left her lips, she realised that this would be her final night within the kingdom's walls. It was also the exact moment she experienced her first splinter, her inaugural glimpse into a possible future.


* * * * * * *

Three - ‘The First Vision’

Madison found herself in the in-between worlds, a realm where shadows and spirits coexisted. It was a world of possibilities rather than certainties, the Ethereal Plane. She felt a sharp, brain-splitting pain surge through her head. She knew she had been brought here for a purpose, and it would be unwise to attempt to leave without fulfilling this interdimensional journey.

Suddenly, a crackling of lightning filled the air, and in the blink of an eye, Madison found herself standing on a circular rune platform. This arena was often used by magic users for duels, ensuring no interference from third parties. It was a place of honour, even if her enemy hailed from a realm of blood magic and malevolent intent.

A gust of wind began to whirl, forming into a small cyclone before coalescing into the spectral form of another being right before Madison's eyes. With piercing crimson eyes and massive obsidian-black angel wings unfurling from their back, Madison couldn't help but stand frozen in fear. Before her stood a fallen angel, a wielder of demonic energy. Although the spirit appeared unaware of Madison's presence in this ethereal realm, the very real threat it posed was palpable.

Madison needed no further clues to realise that she was sharing the circular rune with none other than 'The Enchantress of the Moons,' Kleio De Santos."

Madison uttered the verbal components of the spell.

Madison: The righteous power of Selune, I unsheathe my relic of power. Titan, I summon you to the battlefield.

In Madison's hand, a ripple of pure solar energy pulsed before transforming into a beautifully crafted war scythe, adorned with intricate magical runes. Its presence caused the ground around Madison to shimmer with a hue of purple, indicating the weapon's proximity. With both hands gripping the polearm, Madison assumed a fighting stance, maintaining unwavering eye contact with the spectre of Kleio De Santos before announcing her presence


Madison: I stand before you, foul witch, as the chosen Wanderer of the Kingdom of Günwhorfe. Your corruption of the mortal world has endured for far too long. I've forsaken my destiny as a chosen champion to dedicate my soul, every breathing, pulsing, heart-beating moment, to dismantle your Coven and purge your putrid influence from this land. My mission is to offer hope and safety to the good people of the realms.

I won't allow you to poison their minds with your lies of corruption and deceit. I won't permit you to desecrate the sacred bloodline of the Arthurian Dynasty. I won't stand by while you jeopardise everything that is sacred to us all and seek to crown one true king on the golden throne. This is my solemn promise, and I shall not be deterred from achieving this righteous goal.

For a moment, it seemed as if the spectre noticed Madison, its blood-red crimson eyes locking onto hers. In an instant, she was thrown backward as if hit by crashing waves against towering sea cliffs. It felt like a punch to the gut, forcing all the air from her lungs and leaving her gasping for breath. When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing in front of Zaphod.

Zaphod Krish: Did you have a vision, Wanderer?

Madison: I glimpsed my destiny, Your Majesty, and it won't be an easy journey.



To Be Continued​

 

[Rosie]

FWA Trios Championship Match

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Fireflies dance in the glow of the evening of the marshland.

Small amounts of sunlight break through the trees. On the edge of the water, a hut stands on stilts with stairs leading up to it. There is a sense of magic to it, though the rest of the world is filled with dread. This is the world of the witches, a coven of spellcasters and magical beings looking to find purpose in a world in which everyone seems down on their luck. On the outs with most members of the Coven are two ladies and a mythical creature standing under a nearby tree. Their tattered witches’ hats have trims of neon green. The two girls are of Asian descent with one towering high above the other, her colourful hair peeks out of her hat. Her friend has shorter hair which goes down to her shoulders with a silver shine to it. Her eyes are restless. On her shoulder is a Familiar. A small white fox. She has nine tails which flick and red markings on her, a kitsune.

“How long are they going to be?” The taller woman asks in Japanese. “I have to look for my toad, Cali.”

Her silver haired friend mutters.

“It’s going to be a long while, Ririko. The Grand Witch clearly has herself a new favourite.”

Cali rolls her eyes, folding her arms. The kitsune on her shoulder speaks.

“What is your issue?” She flicks her nine tails and asks.

“Just, I don’t like it.” She grumbles. “I’ve known her longer than most people here. Is she the brightest? Far from it. But she’s got this constant compassion and people may abuse it.”

“And you say she is the Grand Witch’s favourite?” Ririko comments and shakes her head. “That sounds like a disaster. Getting involved with her and the sisters.”

“I hear the Grand Witch has issues with her own family.” Katsu jumps off of Cali’s shoulders, landing on the soil below. “Can explain why she feels it necessary to expand her Coven, and have support where she lacked before.”

“And I’m glad we’re on the outs of it.” Cali states, showing a disdain for the witch. “I just don’t know how they can be sustainable and Trix’ being involved is not good. It’s dangerous for her.”

“Why don’t you tell her?”

“Doubt she’ll listen to me at this point.” The silver haired woman glares towards the hut. “She’s getting pretty involved with them. They give her what she wants. ‘Friendship,’ a sense of accomplishment. I wouldn’t mind any of that, I’d be happy for her if it wasn’t with them.”

“That Grand Witch does not always sit well with me…” Ririko pouts. “She is always planning something. And do not get me started on those sisters who hang with her, especially the tall one! She is rude and mean!”

The kitsune takes a look at the hut, a lamp glows through the open window. “She does not see that though. She sees them as her ‘true friends.’ Maybe she knows them better than us? But I know there’s always a danger of something breaking their bond. What happens if Trixie is no longer of use to them?”

Katsu’s tails fall, “She won’t be ready to handle it. She’s not mature enough and the heartbreak will be too much for her.”

“We know what it’s like to have people stab us in the back.” Cali turns to her friends. “It brought us closer. But… Poor Trix, she wouldn’t see it coming.”

For the time being, the relationship between the members of The Coven seems strong. New friends, an undead Grandmother who takes care of them, siblings, and a strong leader. But there isn’t something unbreakable about them. Someone like Bellatrix, what is their purpose with her? Will the burden be too much?

What if she no longer can fulfill it?

What if there has been one too many mistakes?

That we will find out.

“Stop mixing it so much!”

A shout is heard from the hut.

“What did you put in it!?”

The three turn to see the lights flicker until there is a scream and a puff of purple smoke with a BANG.

Sensing something has gone wrong, the three rush towards the hut, heading up the steps. Looking inside, they see the remains of a skeleton with a large witch’s hat being the only thing left unscathed from the corpse.

Seated at the feet of the skeleton is a young witch with blonde hair and pale skin. She clutches her knees and rocks back and forth, breaking into tears.

“Bellatrix, what happened?” The Kitsune asks. She sits at Trixie’s feet.

“It was an accident!” She sobs. “We were making potions, I was trying really hard and… and.”

Bellatrix begins to mumble, the rest of her story is becoming incoherent. Ririko, Katsu, and Cali exchange glances. The girl meant no harm, but it ended up resulting in a death. Once the others find out-

Trixie will be next.

Ririko grabs Trixie by the wrist and pulls her up.

“You. Come with us.” She says as bluntly as possible before they lead Trixie out of the hut and into the night, presumably into safety.

The four are given a headstart on the run and they manage to get out of the way enough to not be seen by two young Witches checking on the commotion.

Blair and Celestia Ravenwood.

Opening the doors of the hut, the two sisters are horrified to see the skeleton remains of their powerful Grand Witch. Celestia immediately rushes to the bones.

“NO!!” She cries out, “What happened!?”

“Can’t you see, dummy, she’s dead.” The older sister says bluntly. “Something must have gone wrong when she was making potions.”

“But… Can we revive her?” Celestia says hopeful.

“We’d need a corpse to do that and her hair.” Blair inspects the skeleton. All manner of flesh and hair is gone. “It all burnt off. Probably from an acidic potion.”

Grabbing the hat of their fallen queen, Celestia clutches it to her chest. “How can something like that happen?” She wonders. “She’s usually great at potion making-”

Her voice stops. Both the sisters immediately put two and two together. She didn’t make the potion. It was Trixie. Blair, having enough of Trixie’s mistakes, balls her hands into fists.

“I’m going to kill that girl painfully for this… I’m going to turn her into a dung beetle and squash her! I’m going to put her in a fire and watch her burn!”

Celestia immediately jumps to the defense of Bellatrix.

“It was probably an accident! You know how many times we’ve messed up potions over the years?”

“And this ‘accident’ KILLED her!”

Blair shouts, pointing at the remains of their leader.

“She probably begged her to teach her a potion she wasn’t ready to make and this happened! She wasn’t ready for any of this and yet we let her in!”

Celestia pouts. She kneels over the remains of the Grand Witch and she knows her sister has a point. But she cares about their friend.

“I understand you’re frustrated, but this wouldn’t be what she would want.” She looks up at her sister. “It’s important we support each other, not just when we have success, but even in the bad times.”

Blair looks and her eyes glance at the hat she wore. Celestia continues.

“Everyone’s bound to make mistakes, so it is our job to learn from them. We’ve done it before. We ALL have done it before. How many times have we had duels not go our way, Blair? How many times did the-?”

“And how many times has Trixie messed up?” Blair interupts her sister.

“And how many times has she also done incredibly well for us? We won the trios duel tournament because of her.”

Celestia counters her older sister’s point. But, it falls on deaf ears. Blair reaches over and grabs the hat off the floor. She holds it in our hands.

“But there are some mistakes that are more costly than others. The Grand Witch is dead. Whether it was an accident or was too dumb to realise what she was doing, she has done the ultimate crime. There comes a time when you have to ask if something is a greater burden than a benefit, and once our lives are at stake, then it’s a burden.”

“But, she wanted her in-” Celestia pleads with her older sister.

“And now she’s dead. That means I’m in charge.” She places the hat on her head.

“Who died and made you in charge… Wait-” Celestia asks, but she looks down and literally gets her answer. She facepalms over the word choice as Blair explains.

“I’m the only one here who’s capable of handling such power and responsibility. I need to do everything possible to keep my… our Coven safe and make it stronger. In this case, it is going to be addition by subtraction. Trixie’s a deadwoman walking, and I decide her fate.”

She gives a coy smile to her younger sister. “Besides, I’m older. Let’s go.”

Blair heads out the hut and, despite genuine hesitation from Celestia, she falls in line, accepting her sister’s place as the Grand Witch.

Farther along in the swamp, approaching the edge, Cali Hayama, Katsu, and Ririko are walking with Trixie who is spending most of her time sobbing. She is inconsolable, mumbling like a kid who was pushed down at recess. They try to get something coherent from her, but fail. Eventually, they find a shoreline and get her to sit down.

“Okay, Bellatrix. Take a deep breath and explain.” Katsu asks her on Cali’s shoulder.

“I…” She sniffles, wiping the tears from her face. “I was mixing potions with her. I wanted to learn some potions. I really wanted to show I can fit in. But it was nothing dangerous.”

“How did it go boom?” Ririko asks in English.

“I don’t know!” Bellatrix cries out. “I added toad’s hair, an eagle feather. But it tasted bad so I added some Jolly Ranchers-”

The girls look at each other and instantly facepalm, sighing.

“What?” She asks.

“Those artificial ingredients are not good for potions!”

“How would I know!?”

“Did she tell you to put some in?” Cali asks her. Trixie doesn’t answer, so Cali asks again. “Did she?” Trixie shakes her head. She’s riddled with guilt.

“No! I messed up! I mixed them in and it all bubbled up! I panicked and pushed it away from me and into her! I messed up and it is all my fault!”

Trixie rolls on the ground, crying like a kid. Katsu leaps on the ground and gently nudges against Bellatrix. “There there.”

The bristles of her fur rub up against Trixie’s skin. Bellatrix grabs Katsu tight, hugging the Kitsune.

“Thank you! You really are my best friend!”

Katsu squirms somewhat in the hug.

“I’ll never let go! You’re so soft and fluffy! I love it!”

“Help…”

Katsu is being smothered with love. Cali manages to get her friend out who winces after her small bones were nearly crushed.

“Are the witches your best friends?” Ririko asks.

“I have a lot of best friends!” Trixie proclaims. The others exchange glances and she explains.

“There’s Pee-pee-cock, Milo II, Mr. Letters, the guy who held the door open for me seven years ago. Then there’s-”

“-Are you sure they are all your friends?” Cali asks bluntly. Trixie nods confidently.

“Absolutely!”

“Do they know?”

“-Yeah.”

“Did you tell them?” Katsu asks.

“-You need to tell them?”

The three collectively groan. They exchange glances before Cali leans down. She gently puts her hand on Bellatrix’s shoulder and tries to be as honest as possible.

“Trix’ look. You have a big heart. But sometimes you let that dictate everything you do.”

Bordeaux looks confused as Cali continues.

“It’s possible to have a lot of friends. But just someone being nice to you, having to work together with you one time doesn’t make them a friend. It doesn’t mean they’re bad, but they are not going to automatically give you birthday cards, or be your bestie. You can’t see that sometimes and if people know that, someone may take advantage of it.”

Despite the fact Cali is being as gentle and as reasonable as possible, Trixie is already trying to hold back her tears.

“You mean nobody is my friend!?”

“No! Not that…”

“I think what Cali is saying is that it is dangerous to be so trusting, especially with witches, wizards, and warlocks out to get ahead by any means.” Katsu explains. “Quality of friends over quantity.”

Trixie seems confused still, so Cali whispers something in Ririko’s ear.

“Many friends are good, but a few really good friends are so much better!” She says in her simplified English, likely in a way for Bellatrix to comprehend.

Looking out onto the water, Bellatrix can’t hold back her tears and cries out.

“And now I have nobody!” She sobs into her hands. “I just didn’t want to be a loser! I wanted people to be my friends, so we could live off the fatta' the land together and be happy! But now I have nobody and Celestia and Blair aren’t going to be my friends anymore and they’ll kill me!”

She is inconsolable. Katsu, Cali, and Ririko all exchange glances together before huddling together. They whisper in Japanese to make sure she doesn’t understand them.

“And now you see why it is so hard to talk to her about this stuff.” Cali sighs. “Been meaning to for a long time, but she can’t take any criticism.”

“I’ve been in her shoes before.” Ririko pouts. “Poor girl must have been bullied so much. No wonder she glomps onto anyone who’s nice to her.”

“The difference between you two is that you can judge people’s intentions and listen,” Katsu mutters. “I had to use my illusion once to disguise myself as a vampire, it took a year for her to understand I was not a real vampire.” Her ears droop, frustratedly.

“What do we do now?” Ririko asks. “The Ravenwood sisters are going to hurt her, maybe kill her. Everyone will target her too! The girl who killed the Grand Witch. She can’t handle that.”

“Maybe she can apologize?” Katsu offers a solution. Cali shakes her head.

“Those girls are snakes, especially Blair. Even if she tries to apologize, they may just lead her on and then break her heart. I-”

Her heart sinks. No matter how annoying this girl may be sometimes, Cali has a soft spot for her. Trixie has a big heart. But her heart is bound to be broken.

“-I don’t want to see it happen. I-I don’t want someone to kill her like they will, so I guess… It’s up to us.”

Ririko looks up at Katsu on Cali’s shoulder. They know what their friend is thinking.

“Are you sure?” Katsu asks.

“You know her better than us… You sure you can’t talk to her?”

Cali shakes her head.

“This is the only way out. If someone’s going to do it, it might as well be me. It’s for her own good, and maybe our’s too. we can’t babysit her forever. Then we’ll suffer. Here’s the plan.”

She whispers into her friend’s ears. They gulp, sick to their stomach over what they’re going to do.

But there’s no other option. Katsu jumps off her friend’s shoulder and goes over to Trixie to gently nudge her. Ririko sits down next to her. They try to smile at Bellatrix who gives a weak smile in return. Cali stands behind with a depressed look on her face.

“Maybe we can help?” Ririko suggests.

Trixie wipes some of the tears from her eyes and looks up.

“We think, maybe it is possible for you to live your dream?” Katsu wags her nine tails. Trixie tilts her head, so she further explains. “Well, we think you have more friends, right? Well, do you?”

Trixie has to think, but she nods.

“Why don’t we find them?”

“Find them?”

Both Katsu and Ririko nod.

“You can live off the fat!”

Ririko shouts confidently and yet incorrectly. Katsu nudges her.

“She means you can find them and find a place to live in peace as friends, where the Ravenwoods will never find out.”

Cali reaches into her pocket and pulls out a wand. She takes a deep breath to calm herself. She looks at Bellatrix and waits.

“Y-Yeah…” Trixie sniffles. “That sounds fun.”

“Think of all your friends! You’re going to be so happy there!”

Katsu places her paw on Trixie’s knee and grins. Her mood changes.

“Yeah! It’s going to be great! Tommy will be there, and my brother, the guy who put whipped cream on my hot chocolate! You guys! Along with-”

As Trixie begins to list off her “many friends,” Cali raises her wand, her hand shakes slightly. She steadies herself as Trixie is unaware.

“-And the popcorn man, the dog who licked me on my walk last week, and-”

ZAP!

A bolt shoots from Cali’s wand, hitting Trixie in the back of the head. Her body collapses to the ground, dead.

There’s a solemn look on the faces of the three.

“At least her last thoughts were happy…” Ririko mutters.

“This was better for her.” Katsu says, her voice hoarse. “Less painful.”

Cali sighs and kneels over her friend’s body. A catch is in her throat.

“It was for your own good. Sorry Trix’. See you on the other side.”

Getting up, the three leave her in the marsh.

Soon after, Blair and Celestia sees what happened to Trixie. Celestia rushes over in horror, grabbing Trixie’s body.

“-She’s dead!” She shouts. “What are we going to do!?”

“We’ll move on.” Blair scoffs. “Not like she can.”

The new Grand Witch motions for her sister to follow.

They leave the body of their fallen witch to rot.