Meltdown XXIX & Fallout 029 || Promo Thread.

[SupineSnake]

The promo deadlines for both shows are:

Sunday 21st May, 2023 at 23:59 Pacific Time.
Monday 22nd May, 2023 at 03:00(am) Eastern.
Monday 22nd May, 2023 at 08:00(am) UK.
Monday 22nd May, 2023 at 10:00(am) Turkey.
Monday 22nd May, 2023 at 17:00 Melbourne.

There will be no extensions. Good luckl!



Link to backed up PDF promos: here!.

 

[SupineSnake]

- CTHULHU’S NEPHEWS -
[ORIGIN STORY]
starring khar’’ina halruzh.
with the maid of death, noe-i, and uncle j.j. jay!.

*****​

“I’m not sure why all of this falls upon you.”

“This sort of stuff always falls upon me.”

“Well, you’re not a babysitter. You should say something.”

“I babysat you.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Well, I know me. I don’t know Kha’’rina at all. She just sort of… appeared.”

“That’s how most Nephews show up. You were just a babe in arms when we brought you back to the Octopi.”

“I’ve heard the story, Maid. You’ve told me. Uncle told me. Thomas told me. Everyone’s told me their version of my origins story. All slightly different, mind you.”

“We’re big Kurosawa fans.”

“What?”

“You not seen Rashomon?

“Is that the one we did for Mile High?”

“Different one.”

“We’re getting off track. My point is that we are expected to team with this woman, and I don’t even know where she came from.”

“Well, NOE-I, would you like me to tell you?”

“Sure.”​

*****

Burund wasn’t much when they first built it. It was meant to be the southernmost outpost of a blossoming empire, erected against the eaves of the Djank Rainforest. This huge ocean of vegetation swept across much of the southern half of the continent, and - but for some inroads made around Burund and a half-dozen other settlements on the jungle’s borders - had been left mostly untouched by the lumiens and chorult that were indigenous to the moon. Upon realising how important the rainforest was to their ultimate survival, both of Khaled-1’s sentient species had the good sense to leave it well alone. There were parts of it that were still uncharted, millenia following the erection of Burund’s first work-huts. And it teemed with life: ninety eight percent of the moon’s known species of flora and fauna made their home beneath the tangled branches of the Djank’s lofty green roof.

At first, the village of Burund was extended in the opposite direction of the trees until it met the sea. With no more room to grow, the ignorant city planners began to cut into the forest for a brief time, clearing several square kilometres of woodland before the satellite’s scientists educated the expansionists. The blossoming city continued to grow, but did so in the treetops themselves, as well as on and beneath the sparkling surfaces of the gleaming purple seas. The people of Khaled-1, both lumien and chorult alike, took great care of their home celestial body in the hopes that their home celestial body would in turn take care of them.

It was in one of these aforementioned treetop structures that Kha’’rina Halruzh - aged a mere four years on Khaled-1, which equated to roughly twelve standard years elsewhere in the universe - was currently situated. She looked out over the patchwork of luscious green leaves and wooden buildings sprawling out before her, as far as her keen eyes could see. The sky was blue and clear but for the huge, pink sun that throbbed in the centre of it. A black liner cruised overhead, disturbing a flock of pulyon-birds that screeched as they took aimless flight.

Finally, she heard the workings of the lock to their apartment. Hers and her mother’s. It was this expected arrival that she’d been waiting for, filling the time until it came with drab internal descriptions of the Djank Rainforest. A moment later her mother walked through the door, a nonchalant smile decorating her face as if she’d never been away.

"Was starting to think you weren't coming back," Kha''rina said. She folded her arms and grimaced, attempting to express petulance with every fibre of her being. It only served to amuse her mother, who missed even those most uncomely of attributes during her long sojourns away from Khaled-1.

"Wishful thinking?" her mother asked, whilst throwing her arms around her daughter. Kha''rina kept her own folded. "Won't get rid of me that easily. Why aren't you ready for training?"

"You can't still expect me to train today?" the young girl asked. She wrenched herself free of her mother's grasp to be sure that she could see her eyes rolling. "I haven't seen you in weeks. I thought we'd watch a movie or something."

"Today has been circled in your calendar ever since you were born," her mother said. Kha''rina was well aware of her engagements. "My poor punctuality is no reason to let yours slip. You don't have to take after me in everything."

Eventually, after a brief but tense stand-off during which Kha''rina questioned her mother's authority over her before cowering beneath her gaze, she disappeared into her bedroom to change into her training robes.

Juro waited for her in a vast courtyard behind the KCP central dojo, where all of its gadfly agents were trained. She'd never seen the man before but recognised him from her mother's description. He was a lumien, tall and narrow and rangy like all of the species, and with two clusters of small, black eyes dominating his face. His torso was a thick and strong thorax, from which two long arms and a pair of thin, translucent wings sprouted. The species had long lost the ability to fly but these appendages were far from useless. They were light but hardy, providing protection when needed, and their subtle bioluminescence provided a beacon in the darkness. Juro Takturian was the Gadfly Assembly's head trainer, which meant he did very little training himself. Most of his time was spent delegating. But Kha''rina was an important student, given the dubious honour of his direct tutelage.

Kha''rina's mother, Flik'x Halruzh, had been a gadfly for years before her only daughter was born. In fact, she often liked to tell her that - if it wasn't for her service - Kha''rina most likely would never have been born at all. This, though, was another story for another time.

The courtyard behind the dojo was dimly lit by a large firepit in the centre of it. Juro stood next to this focal point, most likely to ensure his introduction into the scene - and indeed into Kha''rina's life as a whole - was as cinematic as possible. The young girl looked at the old man for as long as it took her to determine that he intended to remain silent. When this conclusion was drawn, she instead scanned her surroundings.

"No weapons," she said, upon completing her perusal. "Will we fight with our hands?"

"You ask too many questions," was Juro's reply. She considered pointing out that it was the first question she'd ever asked him, but decided this probably wasn't a very good idea. "We won't fight at all. Not for a long while."

"Then what will we do?" Kha''rina said. Juro grunted a disgruntled grunt.

"More questions," he said. "You will stand on one leg. Improve your balance."

"For how long?"

"For as long as it takes."

Afterwards, Kha’’rina always thought of the interlude as four straight days standing upon one leg. That wasn’t quite the truth of it, though. She’d spent much of it losing her balance through fatigue or (more often) a lack of skill, and other large spells sitting on the floor in a sullen and despondent sulk. Juro was never far away. The professor wore a volksbone cane from his belt, though it seemed mostly ceremonial. He instead only peered at her with his cold, hard eyes when she wasn’t being compliant. When pushed to it, he would use his cane to nudge her back to consciousness if she fell asleep. She mastered the skill in spite of her best efforts not to, her resentment for the banal and useless task manifesting itself in a passive and immature hostility towards her new master. She wasn’t particularly proud of her youthful self, in reflection.

Eventually, though, she had mastered it. After what could've been an hour on one leg but might have easily been several, Juro told her that the lesson was over. He left without saying goodbye. This didn't surprise her.

"You're back early," her mother said, when Kha''rina reached their treetop apartment and, exhausted, threw herself onto the sofa.

"Early?!" she asked. "I've been gone for days."

"My first lesson was three weeks long," her mother said. "Juro must like you."

*****​

“Khaled-1 sounds pretty idyllic.”

“It’s fine. Except for all the autocrats.”

“Doesn’t much sound like Kha’’rina at all, though.”

“How so?”

“The trainer was right. She asks too many questions.”

“You ask questions all the time. You asked me to tell you this story, for one.”

“I don’t mean that she’s not allowed to ask questions. I mean that Kha’’rina never does. I’m not sure the character progression is quite right.”

“We’ll address that later.”

“So you’re going for development?”

“Not really. You can’t develop what people don’t already know. I’m not really bothered about all of that.”

“Dangerous.”

“Do you want me to tell the story?”

“Go ahead.”​

*****

“Sounds like you’re progressing quickly,” her mother said. They were below the treetops and descending still, repeatedly circling around a sturdy old bhellop tree on the edge of the jungle.

“Yes, it’s only been a year, after all,” the girl replied, her delivery dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe I’ll start learning how to fight soon.”

“It’s not all about learning how to fight,” the woman advised. A bushy-tailed squirrel scurried past them as it scaled the vertical bhellop trunk. “Patience is a skill you’ll have to develop, too.”

“Patience isn’t a skill,” the girl responded. “It’s an imposition.”

“Your youth is too obvious,” the mother, with a knowing smile. She spoke from experience. “You’ve got to stop and smell the flowers sometimes, Kha’’rina.”

“I guess we’re going to the right place,” Kha’’rina said.

The mother and daughter pairing reached the bottom of the wooden staircase, a structure that seemed light but had stood for thousands of years, connecting the narrow treetop bridge-paths to the rest of the city. The outwardly illogical array of roads and footpaths sprawled out in every direction before them, straddled on either side (and, in some instances, above and below) by structures of various design, size, and age. The lumien and chorult peoples were often referred to as ‘expansionists’, by others and by themselves, and you could clearly see why that was with a quick glance at one of their cities. It usually began with an ancient centrepiece, the first hub built by travelling settlers. The city then burst out from this nucleus in uneven rings that told its history like rings in a tree trunk. The only constant were the frequent, small gardens, blooming with runebells and swan’s tears and imported dragonlilys. The white-stone paths themselves were riddled with blackblossom that clung between the cobbles.

Their pace settled down as they arrived in the central districts, where the markets and exhibits were set up in Pembrose Gardens and a dozen other similar city parks around the town hall. Kha’’rina’s mother grew a few flowers in ceramic pots on their balcony along with a handful of herbs in their small, cramped kitchen, but otherwise she’d shown no real interest in horticulture. Or any other culture, really. Flik’x Halruzh’s time was almost exclusively divided between her thankless job and her impatient daughter. Today, though, her mother had decided she would ‘stop and smell the flowers’.

She also, for some reason that Kha’’rina wasn’t privy to, seemed to have already chosen the flowers she intended to stop and smell. In the upper levels of Pembrose Gardens, between the marble fountain and the statue of the stoic Yundheim guardsman staring over the crescent-shaped lake, they found a vibrant display heavily featuring innumerable shades of pink and purple. The central feature of the small exhibition was a tall, straight tree with a silver trunk and huge, lilac leaves, under which the display’s eccentric curator smiled broadly. He was unlike anything little Kha’’rina had ever seen before, with his most prominent distinguishable feature the tangle of bristling tentacles protruding at all angles from the lower half of his head. The top half of it was a smooth, purple dome, two sunken brown eyes sparkling with warmth and life and something a little more sinister. He flashed the approaching tandem the underside of his middle and index fingers, which only the mother understood to carry vague connotations of peace in certain parts of the universe.

This prominent and widely-respected horticulturist is, of course, known to my dear listener as that most fantastic of COSMIC HORRORs, the Nightmarer and 5D-Go Master himself. He was also known to the government upon Khaled-1 for reasons quite separate from his skills with flower arranging. Kha’’rina watched her mother greet this strange being with an uncharacteristically broad smile. She was outside the circle of knowledge and lamented how often this was the case.

“So here we are!” Uncle said, as he emerged from behind a small water feature in a corner of his display to grasp Flik’x in a tight and familiar embrace. “You’ve finally seen it. Now do you believe it?”

“It really is something, Uncle,” the woman said. She scanned the flora and tried to chart the patchwork of colours: cerise, violet, peach, and amaranth in one patch, fuschia, orchid, magenta, and lavender in another, this ocean of pink and purple only broken up by the green stems and leaves and moss around a circular pond that teemed with life of its own. Kha’’rina concurred with her mother. She’d never seen such a vibrant display of plant life and wondered if it, or its curator, could be natural. “Still seems like more of a hobby, though. A side hustle.”

“Everything else is the side hustle,” JAY! replied, with a wink. He seemed distracted by a trio of photo-journalists who were framing his bed of hot pink chiraliums. “Are you around for long? I’d love to talk you through the display. And those photographers should probably know what they’re looking at, too.”

“I’ll have to leave you to it,” she answered. “Work.”

“Always work,” Uncle said, whilst shaking his head. His tentacles wafted gently as he did.

“Not quite,” Flik’x corrected. “If you’re still free for drinks tonight.”

“Who else would I drink with in this city?” Uncle answered. Only then did Kha’’rina notice the two others in pink tracksuits that were tending the stranger’s gardens. A man in a mask and a woman wearing a look of passive disdain. The one in the mask lingered close to the conversation as if monitoring it. “The droids will start to pack the ship at thirty hours. You’ll meet me here then?”

“I’ll meet you here then,” Flik’x repeated. Uncle disappeared to inform the photo-journalists about the nuances of his exhibition. Kha’’rina followed her mother towards the Gadfly House and the Academy a few doors beyond it.

“That man is your Uncle?” Kha’’rina asked. “Does that mean he’s my Uncle, too?”

“No,” Flik’x answered. “That’s just his name.”

“Will I go for drinks?” the daughter asked. “A groppos juice, obviously.”

“You’ll be busy,” the mother answered. “Juro told me not to expect you home tonight.”

Kha’’rina grimaced, and wondered if her teacher planned to have her learn how to stand on no legs at all.

*****​

“That was you? In the tracksuit?”

“That was me.”

“I thought you said you babysat her? You didn’t even have any lines.”

“You’re as impatient as Kha’’rina.”

“Well, this is taking a while already…”​

*****

“Three months,” her mother said. “That’s all.”

The specific duration was meant to calm her daughter but had the opposite effect. Three months seemed like quite a long amount of time, and the look of concern that haunted her mother’s face brought fears of a different sort. As Kha’’rina’s progress had progressed, Flik’x began to confide a little more openly in her about the details of her own work. The younger woman had never seen her mother approach a job with anything other than lightly-worn confidence. Kha’’rina always suspected that this was at least partly an act. Flik’x’s countenance right now validated that theory.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her mother paused. Weighed up how much she should reveal to her daughter. For all the love she’d received through her handful of years, there was a closed hesitance about their relationship that still partially persisted.

“I don’t know if I like it,” her mother said. Her expression suggested she’d decided she didn’t like it.

“The job?” Kha’’rina replied. Her mother nodded her head. The younger girl was aware of the details of the latest operation that Flik’x had been assigned to. Uncle J.J. JAY! was half the universe away, which accounted for the three month round trip that her mother was embarking on in order to kill him. Kha’’rina wondered why they didn’t wait until another local horticultural event. “Wouldn’t have thought you’d be sweating the flower guy.”

“It’s not that,” her mother started. “It’s…”

Her voice trailed off. She glanced around herself nervously. Kha’’rina was unsure what it was about their apartment that was spooking her. It hadn’t changed much since she’d been born. Suddenly, Flik’x stood up and walked to the balcony. Kha’’rina had never seen her smoke before. Things must’ve been bad. Whilst balancing the cigarette between her lips, she took two small, black devices out of her satchel and placed one upon a table. She held the other up in her daughter’s direction.

“We’ll stay in close contact, okay?” she said. Kha’’rina sensed that she was being guarded. She didn’t enjoy her mother’s paranoia. She was usually so steadfast. That’s how she needed her to be.

As she regarded the bundle of nervous energy that had consumed her mother, she lamented that this would be how she’d remember her for the next three months.

Kha’’rina followed her onto the balcony. She was careful not to inhale any second-hand smoke and collected the device from the table. A small screen activated when she held it. There was a keypad beneath it. Her mother began to type on her own machine, and after a few seconds her message appeared on Kha’’rina’s screen.

>> Will only work for you. Needs your signature. I’ll call, too. x.

The younger woman was confused but placed the device in her back pocket. Her mother gave her a long, tight hug - a little longer and tighter than usual, even - before disappearing out of their apartment’s front door.

That night, Kha’’rina arrived at the Gadfly Academy for what she assumed would be a routine lesson. Juro and another man waited for her in front of the building in a grey cruiser with chipped paintwork. The other man patted her down and she was glad to have left her mother’s communication device beneath a floorboard in her apartment. Juro opened the back of the cruiser and told her to climb in. She didn’t hesitate. Juro became unbearable if she hesitated. They drove through the night and she slept.

She was awoken by the harsh morning sunlight and, when she climbed out of the back of the cruiser, concluded that she was somewhere in the Yorrynn Plains. Near the Alfomen Flats, if the arid landscape was anything to go by. Juro carried a short, rusted spear with him. He threw it down at her feet. She’d never used this or any other weapon before. Most of Juro’s teaching techniques seemed to rely on learning by doing.

“Find and kill a male gaolcat,” Juro instructed. The other man waited inside the cruiser. “Don’t come back without one on your shoulders.”

Kha’’rina stuffed her hands into her pockets and surveyed her rather desolate surroundings.

“What will I eat?” she asked.

“That’s for you to decide,” Juro answered. “You can forage. Or hunt. Careful with the spear, though. It’s not the sturdiest.”

“You could leave me a sturdier one,” Kha’’rina said. This brought a smile from Juro. She was unsure if she’d ever seen him wear one before.

“That’s part of it.”

Juro climbed into the hovercraft and she watched it drive away. When it was out of sight, she shook her head, kicked the sand, and let out a sigh. Only after doing each of these things a second time did she pick up the spear.

It took her three days to find the gaolcat, three days to kill it, and three days to drag it back to Burund upon her shoulders.

“Not bad,” Juro said, when she presented the carcass at the Academy. “But it only took your mother five days.”

“She is less patient than I am,” Kha’’rina said. Juro didn’t respond. He turned and left the courtyard, two of the academy’s orderlies descending on the cat to take it to the incinerator. Seemed a waste.

Kha’’rina assumed that the lesson was over and went home, thinking only of the little black box hidden beneath the floorboards in her bedroom.

*****​

“So the mother was sent to kill Uncle?”

“That is correct.”

“But Uncle is still alive.”

“That is also correct.”

“I’m beginning not to trust these KCP guys.”

“Trust your instincts.”

“They couldn’t see it? Kha’’rina and her mother?”

“That’s the way with power. At this stage, Kha’’rina’s captors have convinced her that they have given her all she has. That it’s very possible she wouldn’t even survive without her. She doesn’t even know a fraction of her powers, yet.”

“Well, she just killed a gaolcat. Whatever that is…”

“Killing a gaolcat and taking down a government are two different things. But we’ll get to that.”​

*****

In the days leading up to her mother’s death, the messages she received on their private communications device became more frantic and more frequent. The mission wasn’t going well. They’d barely made it out of the quadrant, still lightyears from the Crease, but already the voyage was beset on all sides by disaster.

The voyager that Flik’x Halruzh was tasked with captaining across the universe was, by its own captain’s account, falling apart. Most of the recreational equipment was broken when they’d first set off, but soon enough she was reporting technical problems with the operational machinery. Their long distance radar required lengthy maintenance work and three of their eight propulsion units were on the fritz, too. The engine was old and the top-speed that they were getting was deteriorating each day. They hadn’t been able to speak over the ship’s communications system after the fourth day of the trip, and they would frequently lose their direct line to headquarters for long, unexplained stretches. Flik’x questioned whether the old girl would even make it across the Crease and didn’t relish the idea of another crash-landing. She didn’t know if she could hack another spell on a mark four planet.

In addition to complications on a technical front, her mother would sometimes express doubts and concerns about the crew that she’d been assigned. Along with the three lumien agents and the sturdy chorult guard she usually adventured with, a half-dozen other beings she didn’t know or even recognise packed out the ship. She’d initially reasoned that Uncle was dangerous game. A larger party might be needed to bring him down. But the quality of the team picked for her left a lot to be desired. At best, they were layabouts or cravens. One or two of them carried the sinister air of schemers. As they got closer to the rendezvous, and (somewhat counterintuitively) their chances of actually making it there grew slimmer, Kha’’rina’s mother began to question whether she’d be better off attempting the hit with just the crew she knew and trusted. She didn’t seem to think it was too late to do that.

There were moments when her mother questioned the mission in its entirety. JAY! stood accused of conspiring with a rival in the system to undermine Khaled-1’s political hold on Djoruk, a moon rich with resources and with great strategic significance in local intergeopolitics. The accusations were doubtlessly true, and Flik’x Halruzh had completed a hundred similar missions with far less doubt. Perhaps it was the memories of Uncle that Kha’’rina had seen alluded to in her one previous meeting with the COSMIC HORROR. She couldn’t see it herself, but her mother was a good judge of character. Her fears meant something.

And these were only, of course, the fears that Flik’x communicated to her daughter, through the secure line she’d arranged via their small, black communications devices. Kha’’rina kept hers hidden under the floorboards in her bedroom. Flik’x’s never left her person. Both would sit up at night, typing away beneath their bedsheets through fear of capture by predators known and unknown. Kha’’rina concluded that there were other worries that were kept from her. The deluge of paranoia that she received each night was only a sample of the ocean her mother drowned in.

On the night that she would later learn was her mother’s last, Kha’’rina received the following series of mayday messages, delivered sporadically over a period of just under an hour.

>> More issues with the ship. Two more propulsion units out. Engineers useless. At this rate, we’ll only ever meet Uncle if he chances upon our wreck and decides to rescue us. x.
>> Getting worse. Engines are spluttering. Think we might need to send a mayday soon. Let me know you’re safe when you’re home - I assume you’re training? Love you x.
>> Mayday attempted and failed, we think. Comms systems fully down. This is my only line out of the ship and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to keep it hidden. The Korul doesn’t trust me. x.
>> Power systems failing. Engine has shit itself. It’s a real clusterfuck up here. Air locks going down, one by one. Might be stuck here for a while. Love you, K x.
>> Leak in the chassis. Real mayday stuff. Might need to evacuate. Kholf is there with his spanner, hoping to patch things up. Will update. x.

The messages stopped a little after the start of a new morning on Khaled-1. Kha’’rina read them three days later, when she returned from a long velyuhrr hunt along the western wild coast. By this point the KCP had already released its official statement on the death of a gadfly unit out on official planetary service. Such an announcement was, in and of itself, highly peculiar. They chose to break the news to Kha’’rina by playing her the recording of General Secretary Palluk Vrings’ statement to the centrally controlled media. Juro stood at his shoulder, a grave and solemn look upon his face that seemed oddly devoid of his usual anger. The attempt at softening his presentation seemed insincere and cynical.

“At a little before midnight last night,” the General Secretary began, whilst leaning against a pulpit in the Goloff Gardens in front of Burund’s statehouse. The calm ocean sprawled out behind him, glistening and purple and reflecting the hot golden sun. “A Class A voyager manned by a team of envoys representing the Khaled-1 Central Party was boarded as they traversed the Crease’s Blundelt rock-fields. This crew was engaged on official business with the objective of detaining an enemy of the state and returning him here to Burund, to face trial for his crimes. After a swift crossing to Yull’s Landing, the KCP ship, led by decorated diplomatic commander Flik’x Halruzh, was waylaid by an ambush masterminded by this very target.”

As Vrings spoke his mother’s name, her official photograph was displayed in the top right corner of the screen. Kha’’rina’s intuition didn’t need to be strong to see where this was going. Her breath caught in her throat and choked her.

“Commander Halruzh, along with her entire crew of ten, were viciously murdered by the fugitive Uncle J.J. JAY!,” the General Secretary continued. The image of her mother shifted into one of her alleged killer. It looked like a mugshot of some sort but she couldn't place its origin. “This mayday call was sent by the commander at 39:78 yesterday evening.”

Vrings pressed a button on the control panel upon his pulpit. The recording played out of the speakers on the other side. The General Secretary bowed his head respectfully.

“We’ve been boarded,” said Flik’x Halruzh. It was her mother’s voice, alright. She had to burrow through the fear, which wasn’t a usual component of her tone, but it was mostly her. An approximation of her, maybe. Kha’’rina began to develop doubts of her own as this hollow and fearful version of her mother continued. “By the mark himself. The COSMIC HORROR. Yull’s Landing is still behind us but he’s blown out the engines. There are many of them. The ship’s defences are down. Weapons systems are scrambled. We are holed up in the bridge. We have sealed the locks but that won’t hold them for long. The ship shakes… drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out.”

Rumbling and then static. The recording ended. General Secretary Palluk Vrings shuffled uncomfortably behind his pulpit, adjusting his notes with his head still bowed. Juro stood next to him with clenched fists. His anger had apparently returned to him in this most dramatic of moments.

“Khaled-1’s hunt for this fugitive continues,” Vrings said, after finally looking up from his pulpit at the assembled press. “But we will send no more of our people to die at Uncle’s cruel hands. We have placed a listing on the IQBHF until more information can be gathered. J.J. JAY!, though, has the acrimonious honour of being named public enemy number one. He is not welcome upon Khaled-1 or any of its sisters. Our thoughts are with the families of those who gave their life for Khaled-1’s beauty and splendour at the Yull’s Landing massacre.”

A few moments of silence followed. Kha’’rina knew what the Inter-Quadrant Bounty Hunter’s Forum was and what it usually meant for anyone listed on it. After what he felt was an ample amount of seconds, Palluk Vrings turned from the pulpit and left the shot. Juro followed. The next day his promotion to the Academy’s Chief Administrator was announced. Only the head of the guild now outranked him within the gadflies. The General Secretary’s confidence in him had surged during her most recent hunting trip. Another cause for concern amongst a sea of them. She tried to swim to shore.

In the coming days she inherited her mother’s small treetop apartment, her surprisingly healthy savings, and her beat up old flashliner. Kha’’rina thought about leaving immediately, but quickly realised she had nowhere to go even if she now had a way to get there. The situation was sticky, and the KCP’s story was full of holes, but she hadn’t yet begun to form her own. The idea of becoming a fugitive herself over an unknown truth seemed a clumsy and ill-advised one.

And so she stayed. At least for a little while.

There were times in the weeks and months that followed, as Kha’’rina dutifully continued her training and preparation for service within the ranks of the Khaled-1 Central Party’s renowned gadfly, when she wondered if her new legal guardians were actually blameless in the whole affair after all. Perhaps it was possible that Uncle J.J. JAY! had somehow mimicked her mother’s biological signature and, in an action that would be devious enough to fit in with the one-dimensional picture painted of our COSMIC HORROR by the KCP, duped her into mistrusting her protectors. She didn’t doubt that there were beings out there who had the power and intelligence to do such a thing. But the constant warning in her hearts told her that this was not the case here. Not now.

She was torn between trusting in her gut and indulging her cynicism. Both had served her well and poorly in the past. She remained conflicted as her grief gradually softened.

Her ‘graduation’ took place about half a year after her mother had died and involved her halo-jumping from a low-altitude flashliner and landing in the middle of the Djank Rainforest. She was given only a short brief. Follow the river downstream. The target will be waiting for you at the waterfall.

She followed the river downstream. The target was waiting for her at the waterfall.

He was a thin and small mulukh man with his hands tied behind his back and his legs shackled to the base of a sturdy whitevein tree. His mouth was gagged and his eyes were filled with tears and fear. Despite the fact that they were open, the rest of him seemed to be asleep.

Juro had told her through her comms device that the target was an enemy of the state. No more than that. This was a couple of minutes before she free-fell from the liner to the canopy. She imagined the briefs would eventually get more complicated than this.

When she returned to the academy, Kha’’rina placed the token on Juro’s desk. It was a gadfly tradition that she’d been well-drilled in from an early age. The chief administrator picked up the mulukh’s hand and inspected it at length. He eventually placed it back onto his desk, next to a large pile of red dossiers, and glanced at the young woman in front of him with a smile that she didn’t care for.

“Congratulations,” he began. He was attempting pride and encouragement but was missing the entire ballpark. “You’re an agent now, just like your mother was. Is. Will always be.”

He emerged from behind his desk and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was clammy even through his glove. Kha’’rina worried that it might melt through her.

“Are you ready to avenge your mother?” he asked.

*****​

“So they killed her? The KCP?”

“We’ll get to that.”

“How do you even know all of this? You’ve only been in one scene…”

“Uncle told me some. Kha’’rina told me the rest.”

“And you believe them?”

“I believe her.”

“So… the point is that revenge is a dish best served cold?”

“No, NOE-I: the point is that absolute power in any form is malignant. There is no such thing as benign power. Seeking a manipulative influence over another can never be for their own good.”

“You sure Uncle agrees?”

“I know he does.”​

*****

She woke up in Djoruk’s orbit, the luscious pink and green sphere rotating slowly but noticeably below her liner. She was alone, as she always was, but for the blinking of a small light on the interface that heralded a message from headquarters. Coordinates. She engaged the thrusters and brought the ship down towards the surface.

A standard hour later, she sat in the COSMIC HORROR’s hotel bedroom and watched him wake up. He had been surprisingly quiet whilst sleeping and remained so as he turned on the bedside lamp and noticed Kha’’rina with a blaster trained on him.

“They sent you to avenge your mother,” he said. His voice was somewhat kind, except for the manner in which he lingered over the word ‘avenge’. Here, his tone was sardonic and cutting, as if admonishing her for short-sightedness. Mostly, though, he sounded unsurprised. This, in turn, surprised Kha’’rina.

“Did you kill her?” Kha’’rina asked. Uncle’s tentacles bristled as a smile rippled out beneath them. He knew that the question meant hesitation. Today wouldn’t be his day.

“I heard all about your mother,” Uncle began, with a shake of his head. She’d read all about his prowess as a monologuer but didn’t think he sounded insincere. “Rest in power. Flik’x Halruzh was a truly remarkable woman. I heard those bogus A.I. recordings, too. Had my team analyse the tapes. Extensive voice irregularities. Really quite a vulgar trick, the more you think about it. Of course, if I had met your mother on her mission and she was serious about carrying it out, we would’ve undoubtedly fought to the death for real. I won’t lie about the fact that I would have killed your mother, if she meant to do the same to me, but that is unfortunately not how it came to pass.”

“Unfortunately?” Kha’’rina repeated.

“Unfortunately,” Uncle repeated again. “Would’ve been quite the battle.”

She considered his response and found it aligned with her doubts. She was cynical even about her cynicism, though, and worried that Uncle would seek to exploit this. He knew the holes in the KCP’s official story as well as Kha’’rina did, but that didn’t mean he was telling the whole truth either.

“Are you an enemy of the state?” she asked. She worried that her voice sounded like Juro’s when the question slipped out.

“Yes,” Uncle said. “But only because Khaled-1 is fucking terrible. You already know this, or you wouldn’t be flirting with the idea that they killed your mother. Which they undoubtedly did, by the way.”

“Did you meet my mother on Earth?” Kha’’rina continued, changing the subject.

“Almost,” Uncle said. “I met your mother on Mars, the next planet over. We spent some time together in the Copernican System, which is probably why those bastards from the KCP wanted her dead. They’re not the most trusting, and they don’t teach trust in their academies. Paranoid about a secret allegiance drummed up during our stolen months, I’d wager.”

“How did she get to Earth?” Kha’’rina.

“If you’d believe it,” Uncle mused, whilst reaching into his pocket slowly to retrieve his vape. He puffed on the end of it thoughtfully before continuing. “There’s even less on Mars than there is on Earth. Your mother and crew weren’t trusting enough to let me take them back to Khaled-1, especially given my reputation with the government there. But they also knew their ship was fucked and that they didn’t want to starve to death on Mars, so they at least hitched a ride as far as the blue planet. I helped arrange her extraction, too. Got in contact with the KCP, despite our vast historical differences, and told them where she was. The fact that Earth is mark four didn’t help. We had to prove she crash-landed there before we could begin the extraction, which - of course - she didn’t. But we pulled it off and got her back. Just took a few months. That’s when she fell pregnant with you.”

She’d heard patches of her mother’s side of the story before. But there were always gaps. Holes. Her mother told her that she wasn’t old enough yet. Old enough to train and kill but not old enough to know her own story. She would know the whole story when she graduated, her mother said. Eventually this promise had been fulfilled, but not by her.

“Are you my father?” she asked, finally.

Uncle’s eyes sparkled as brightly as his beaming smile.

“No,” he said, softly. “I’m your Uncle. Capital U.”

She couldn’t place the feeling in her stomach. Relief? Disappointment?

“Your father is a man named Alfred Ian Tranter,” Uncle continued. “He lives in a place called Runcorn. Works at a bookmaker’s, the last time I checked.”

“What’s a bookmaker’s?” Kha’’rina.

“It’s like a casino but for horse-racing,” Uncle.

“What’s a horse?” Kha’’rina.

“I guess you’ll find a lot of this out one day,” Uncle.

“Unlikely,” Kha’’rina. Finally, she lowered her blaster.

“Do you want some advice?” Uncle. She found his voice soft and warm, like a fire to curl up in front of. She nodded her head. “Tell them that you killed me. Stay close to them so that you can have your revenge, if that is important to you. Which apparently it is, given the first question you asked me.”

“How exactly will that work?” she asked. “You’re not the most discrete of beings.”

“For my new friends I can make concessions,” Uncle said. “I’ll lay low for a year. Work on my 5D-Go game. Synthesise a few new plant species. Maybe take up pro-wrestling. Thomas has been looking for some months to indulge in his ‘time crystal’ project, too.”

She thought about the proposition. Already, she had begun to write a list of names in her head. The last two upon it were Chief Administrator Juro Takturian and General Secretary Palluck Vrings.

“In one standard year and one standard day, all bets are off,” Uncle continued. He remained in his bed, carrying out the conversation as if they were discussing the weather. “A COSMIC HORROR can’t stay under a rock forever. I’d get out of dodge before that day comes.

“Oh, and one more thing: don’t ask so many questions.”

She took this last point to heart.

Uncle retrieved a knife from his pocket and, still smiling, lifted it to one of the tentacles protruding from his chin.

*****​

“That’s when she stopped asking so many questions?”

“And stopped taking instructions.”

“Did she go back to Khaled-1?”

“She went back to Khaled-1…”

*****

Juro Takturian sat behind his desk, one of Uncle’s tentacles - a gift to him from his top student - bristling freely on a stand next to his name plate. He’d got a new one after his most recent promotion, which had come shortly after the news of JAY!’s successful assassination. Head of the Guild. The old one, Captain Silvers, was still alive and kicking and had been promoted to some cushy job in the statehouse. Now, the gadflies belonged to him.

It was what he always wanted. So why did his head hurt so much? He massaged his temples, attempting to ease the now everpresent pain that plagued them. It was no use. He would have to live with it but he couldn’t live with it.

Across the desk from him, Kha’’rina smiled to herself whilst his head was bowed. Almost a year had passed since she had met Uncle for a second time, since she had gifted him a severed tentacle as a token, and since Juro’s promotion to Guild’s Head. His stress amused her. She enjoyed being in on the private joke, especially whilst he was on the outside of it.

Since he had assumed position in this very office, a total of twenty one KCP officials - a large number of them associated with the gadfly - had dropped dead on his watch. Twenty one in just under a year. All twenty one of them, you may have guessed, were on Kha’’rina’s list. Most of them were there at its initial conception, and several others were added as her knowledge surrounding her mother’s death grew. Twenty one is a large number to say without elaboration, but we are - my dear listener - running rather long here already, and so it is suffice for now to say that they lived and that they died.

“Another two?” Juro asked. He sat back in his chair and reached for a tall glass of khalluck. She’d never known him to drink before he’d assumed this position.

“Another two,” she repeated, stoically.

“That’s twenty one?” Juro.

“Twenty one,” Kha’’rina. The Guild’s Head let out a long sigh that would’ve seemed exaggerated if she hadn’t known the depths of his despair.

“I’m not really sure what else we can do,” he said.

“I have some ideas,” she replied. He cocked an eyebrow. There was intrigue but also hesitance. “You wouldn’t like them.”

“Do I need to know what you’re doing?” he asked, after a slight and telling pause.

“I’ll need security clearances,” she replied. “All of them. Free reign.”

Juro nodded his head.

“Free reign.”

That night, with her new found freedoms and with her one year time limit coming to its end, six more gadflies had their wings plucked. The last of them was Juro. She watched him sleep for a while as the birds began their morningsong outside. Eventually, she had to wake him up. She couldn’t allow him to slip away from this world without knowing.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. These turned out to be his last words. He refused to speak after this.

“It’s me,” she said. “All of it.”

They sat for a few minutes in perfect silence. Then she killed him.

On her way out of the Academy, one of the younger students who she recognised but couldn’t name saw Kha’’rina with Uncle’s tentacle. She meant to make a gift of it to him when she found the Octopi. Now, with the girl’s young eyes staring up at her in accusation, she realised how stupid she had been. Her flashliner was waiting for her, a packed case in the back of it, and here she was with a useless appendage that would’ve grown back by now anyway.

She enumerated her three choices. Kill the girl. Give herself up. Flee. The last of them seemed the only reasonable option. As she climbed into her mother’s beat-up, old flashliner and climbed high above the city, she lamented the fifteen names still remaining on her list.

With Uncle’s help, she killed two of them from afar. Anyone left with any association with the plot to kill Flik’x Halruzh and her crew, including President Palluck Vrings, realised that their options were also becoming increasingly limited on Khaled-1. Kha’’rina’s list swelled in number again as more and more officials admitted their guilt by going to ground. But the hunt became more difficult. She turned over many stones, and Uncle provided her with machines that could carry out this quarryman’s work more efficiently. She enlisted others around the universe, trading the skills that were innate to her - for she’d long since realised that her tedious, pointless training in Burund had been little more than a sham - for information and coordinates.

This was the life they’d left her. She didn’t imagine that crossing all the names out would bring back any sense of normalcy. That was gone, now. All she knew was that she couldn’t die until her work was done.

*****​

“Cool ending.”

“It hasn’t ended yet.”

“Tell me another story?”

“No. You have to train now.”​

​

 

[Dubb]

Jeremy had to pinch himself to confirm that he was not dreaming.

He looked around the colorful dressing room where his gold-colored acoustic guitar was propped up against a glittery vanity. The walls of the dressing room were adorned with pictures of Kermit, Miss Piggy, Gonzo, and many other of everyone’s favorite loveable Muppets. Above the door to the dressing room was a logo for “The Muppet Show.”

If Jeremy could go back in time and tell his young self that not only would he one day have performed on both Sesame Street and the Muppet Show… again, he would’ve thought he was dreaming.

But then he’d also have to explain to younger Jeremy about how he was also performing alongside his musical mentor and hero, the one and only Krash… well, that would’ve been darn near bordering on insanity!

Jeremy walked over and picked up his trusty golden guitar that featured the “Bestie Boys” written down the body.

“60 minutes til showtime,” the orange-skinned, spectacled Muppet Scooter, who was the producer of the Muppet Show. “Where’s Krash? Oh no, please, please, please don’t tell me…”

“Hiya Scooter,” Jeremy offered a friendly wave. “I’m afraid Krash couldn’t make it tonight. He’s been quite under the weather.”

Scooter’s head flung back in exasperation. “Good grief, how sick is that man? This isn’t good, this isn’t good at all.”

For a moment Jeremy froze up. He knew people would start to question why Krash wasn’t with him for his appearances. The “he’s sick” excuse was only going to be able to last for so long. But if the truth came out… no… the truth couldn’t come out. Everyone loved The Bestie Boys. They were making some real waves in the children's performance charts. Watch out Wiggles, the Bestie Boys were coming for that top spot. With Krash by his side, Jeremy was able to sell out children’s venues around the world. Performing some of their biggest hits like “No Sleep till Storytime,” “Intergalactic Playground,” “Brass Monkey Bars,” and “Ch-Check It Out, It’s Clean-Up Time.”

“Oh calm down Scooter,” the nasally but reassuring voice of the world’s most popular Muppet, Kermit the Frog, was heard as he walked into the room, snapping Jeremy back to reality. “I am sure it will be alright. Hello, Mr. Best.”

Jeremy could barely contain his excitement at getting the chance to meet Kermit, his knees literally shaking. “Oh my goodness! It’s Kermit! It’s really you! Oh, the pleasure is all mine! And call me Jeremy!” Jeremy took Kermit by his hand and shook it with exuberance. Scooter shook his head, clearly still quite stressed out as he walked back down the hallway outside the dressing room.

“Well, ahem, yes, nice to meet you too… Jeremy. We are happy to have you here on our show tonight as our musical guest!”

“It’s a dream come true, Kermit. It really is!”

“Oh my! Don't make me blush. Weeellll, don’t let me keep you from getting ready, I look forward to seeing you out th…”

Kermit was interrupted as a frantic Scooter came bursting through the doorway once again. “We’ve got a problem!”

“What is it now, Scooter? I told you I’m sure Mr. Best will be fine performing solo tonight…”

“That’s NOT the problem I’m talking about this time, Kermit! Someone is here to see Jeremy.”

“Well, that sounds wonderful. An old friend perhaps? I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

“Well, you see… it’s….”

Scooter paused, his voice showing his anxiety before he gulped.

“Jackson Fenix.”

“Jackson? Fenix? Hmm, I’m not sure I’m following. Who is Jackson Fenix?”

“What? You don’t know about Jackson Fenix’s history with Jeremy and Krash?”

Kermit rubbed his chin, racking his brain, but shook his little green head. “Nope. I got nothin’.”

“Does CIBERNETICO not ring a bell?”

Kermit once again appeared to be thinking, rubbing his chin some more. “Wasn’t that the name of the telenovela parody we used to do?”

“Aaaarrrrgghhh,” Scooter tossed his hands up in frustration as a concerned Jeremy remained quiet. He walked over and took a seat on the leather couch.

Scooter either was quite the fan of relatively obscure music, had a great memory, or really did his research on the guests… because not many people remembered the name CIBERNETICO. Of course, Jeremy certainly remembered it. If Jeremy thought back to why he was standing in that very room on that very night… it could all be traced back to CIBERNETICO.

Jeremy remembered it like it was yesterday though it was a decade earlier. Reality television was all the rage back then, but even more specifically, talent shows. Even more specifically? Musical talent shows. Shows that promised to take everyday people with talented vocal cords and give them the opportunity to become legitimate musical stars.

Now Jeremy never really considered himself the most talented musician. He had self-taught himself how to play his trusty acoustic guitar and he always got a nice reception at the local karaoke nights at the community center in his small hometown in North Carolina. But he never really had any aspirations of being famous.

But when they were doing auditions in the big city… and more specifically, when he found out that his musical hero, Krash, was going to be one of the “Team Captains” on the show “Forming the Band,” he decided… why not?

Calling Krash his hero may be somehow understating just how much Jeremy was into the multi-time platinum-recording star that was Krash. He had every single album, had been to any concert he could travel to, and his bedroom walls were covered in posters as if they were wallpaper.

In the back of his mind, he was going to be happy if he just got the chance to meet Krash through the audition stage…

He remembered how much his knees were shaking as he walked into the large empty auditorium where it was just Krash and a couple of other people. Jeremy didn’t recognize the names and with all due respect, wasn’t interested in being on their teams.

“Well hello there, mate! What’s your name?” Krash asked with a friendly smile.

“I, uh…” Jeremy responded nervously before coughing and then clearing his throat. “It’s Jeremy. Jeremy Best.”

“Well, nice to meet ya, Jeremy!”

“Oh no, Krash… nice to meet YOU! This… is amazing… I’m such a huge fan.”

“Aw shucks,” Krash responded coyly. “Well, I hope I’m going to be a big fan of you! Whatcha got for us?”

“I’m gonna be performing a favorite of mine… 'Tomorrow' from Annie.”

The other two “captains” began to chuckle at Jeremy’s song selections, but he reached over and punched them both on the shoulders. “C’mon guys, let’s give the kid a chance.” The other two quickly stiffened up and nodded in agreement as Jeremy began to strum on his gold-colored acoustic guitar.

♪♪“The sun'll come out tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow
There'll be sun
Just thinkin' about tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow
'Til there's none
When I'm stuck with a day
That's gray and lonely
I just stick out my chin
And grin and say
Oh, the sun'll come out tomorrow
So you gotta hang on 'til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow, tomorrow
I love ya tomorrow
You're always a day away….”♪♪

Jeremy held the final note, his eyes closed trying to avoid any type of eye contact from the three below the stage. He didn’t want any type of indication as to what their reactions were. But as he finished, he brought his hands down off of the guitar and looked to the floor. Krash was grinning while the other two seemed quite unimpressed.

“Well done, mate,” Krash said as he gave some applause. “Allow us to confer!”

Krash and the other two captains huddled up around the table.

“No way, this kid ain’t got it. Definitely not right for my team.”

“Yeah, hard pass from me too. This industry will chew him up and spit him out.”

“I dunno fellas,” Krash disagreed with the other two “There’s something about him… I think he has some heart. I think he’s the kinda guy that if he sets his mind to it, he can do it. And that’s the kinda guy I want on my team.”

“Haha, whatever you say, man. It’s your funeral.”

The trio dispersed as Krash stepped forward toward the stage. “Well Jeremy, I’m afraid that it was a no…”

Jeremy hung his head down in disappointment but only for a moment before he lifted back up to look at his hero. “Well, that’s okay. I’m just glad I got to meet you and talk to you in person. I’ll always have that…”

“Wait,” Krash interrupted Jeremy, stopping him from turning around and leaving. “You didn’t let me finish, mate! I said it was a no… from these two. But it was a YES from me! Welcome to the team!”

Jeremy literally jumped for joy, both feet coming off the stage as he proclaimed his excitement. He couldn’t wait to call and tell his mother all about what had happened that night. His life was about to change forever. But he couldn’t even imagine just how much it really would.

Of course, Jeremy wasn’t the only one chosen to be part of Krash’s group. Jeremy filled the role of the “boy next door” of the band. There was also Gerald Grayson, the wild one. Konchu Hao, the unpredictable one. And finally, there was Jackson Fenix, the bad boy.

Together they became known as CIBERNETICO.

“Well, that sounds amazing!” Kermit said as Jeremy recounted the tale of how CIBERNETICO came about.

“It definitely sounds amazing, Kermit,” Scooter interjected, “but all that’s well does not end well.”

“It was amazing, for a bit…” Jeremy trailed off. “We made it to the finals of the competition. We faced off against a disco dancing group led by a guy named Christopher Peacock…”

“THE Christopher Peacock! Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” Kermit flailed his arms wildly, “I love Chris Peacock!”

Of course, everyone knew about Christopher Peacock. “Yeah… we actually won but Chris went on to become a wildly successful solo artist.”

“So wait, if you guys won, why isn’t CIBERNETICO the one performing tonight? Is that why Jackson is here? Maybe we can make this a reunion show! Some of our biggest shows have been reunion shows. This could be huge!”

“I don’t think that’s what’s going on, Kermit,” Scooter said as he reached through his satchel, retrieving a newspaper. He unfolded the newspaper to reveal the headline.

“BOY BAND DESTROYS SESAME STREET.”

Kermit’s jaw dropped as Jeremy hung his head down in shame. “That’s unbelievable,” Kermit said as he reached over and took the newspaper from Scooter. “I can’t believe you just keep this in your bag!”

“Unfortunately things didn’t quite go as planned once we won…”

Forming the Band was a ratings disaster. By the time it aired, a musical reality show fatigue had set in from the general public. No one had any interest in yet another one and thus, barely anyone watched.

“What are you doing?” Jackson asked, propping his feet up on the dashboard of Jeremy’s Honda Civic, parked on the curb.

Jeremy was dialing a number on his flip phone. It was the tenth time he had done it since returning from grabbing some lunch at Taco Bell. “Just trying to reach Krash. Maybe he can help get us a gig.”

“Dude,” Jackson shook his head, “do you really think he wants anything to do with us? He wants to be as far away from us as possible. He’s got his own career to think about.”

The call went straight to voicemail. Again.

“No,” Jeremy refused to believe that his hero and mentor would do that to him. “He cares about us. We became friends… all that team bonding… it wasn’t for nothing. It couldn’t have been.”

“Nah man, face the music. He’s ignoring you. And besides, even if he did answer, no one wants to book us. I think we should drop these other losers… my boy Nate says they’re probably dragging us down. Just look at that weirdo Konchu. I think he scares people away from us.”

“I dunno Jackson…” Jeremy hesitated. “We’re a team. We’re all friends, right.”

“Ehhh,” Jackson cringed a bit. “We’re friends. Sure. The others… meh. But c’mon, bro! Just think.. Me and you… taking the world by storm! Go straight to the top and maybe we can tour with Britney!” Jackson suddenly trailed off into his own world, diving into his imaginary world where he got to share a stage with Britney Spears.

While Jackson was in his own little fantasy world, suddenly Jeremy’s cell phone began to chime. He quickly flipped it open to answer it. “Krash? Buddy? Is that you?”

“Huh? What?” A deep voice on the other end answered. It was American and Southern. Definitely not Krash.

“Who is this?”

“It’s me! Your agent! Bill Scorpane!”

“Agent? Since when do we have an agent?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Well, yep! I’m your agent.”

“You hear that Jackson? Krash got us an agent! He does care about us!”

Jackson scoffed but Scorpane would quickly refute this. “Krash? Haha, oh Lord no. The TV producers set this up… trying to salvage whatever they can on the money they spent making the show…”

“Oh,” Jeremy said solemnly as Jackson began to silently gloat in the passenger seat.

“Don’t sound so glum, boy! Because I’ve got you guys a gig!”

“Wait, what?” Jackson sat up in the seat.

“That’s right, round up the gang! You guys are heading… to Sesame Street!”

While Jackson busted out into laughter, Jeremy’s face lit up. This was huge for him. Sure, to everyone else, it was a matter of very few outlets being willing to put CIBERNETICO on… but for Jeremy, Sesame Street was a big deal. As a child, Jeremy never missed an episode. After his dad passed away, it was one of his go-to comfort shows while his mother was out working. He even had the tin lunch box with a thermos that earned him some mocking from other kids at school since a kid that age shouldn’t still be watching Sesame Street.

But the joke was on them because Jeremy was still watching Sesame Street to that date.

The rest of the group felt like it was a joke. They didn’t take it seriously but they still agreed to do it because an appearance was an appearance at this point for them. But for Jeremy, it was another dream come true for him.

As the newspaper headline would indicate, the visit to Sesame Street did not go as planned. The episode would never actually air. As mentioned, the rest of the group just wasn’t taking it seriously. And Konchu Hao, living up to his reputation as the “unpredictable” one in the group, managed to start a fire on the set. A fire that would burn down the entire Sesame Street set.

“We were banned from Sesame Street for life,” Jeremy said in a monotone, despondent voice. “It was one of the worst days of my life. And, well, that was the end of the road for CIBERNETICO. There was no coming back from destroying a beloved kid’s program. So we all went our separate ways.”

With a long face, Kermit walked over and put his arm on Jeremy’s shoulder to offer his condolences. “It’s okay, Jeremy. That was a long time ago and it wasn’t your fault. And besides, look at you now, it all worked out, right?”

Jeremy looked up at Kermit with a smile but the sincere moment was broken up as the door to the room burst open again as a frantic Miss Piggy stormed in. “KERMY! KERMY! We have an intruder on set!”

“Miss Piggy… we know we…” Scooter tried to intercept her, but she karate-kicked him out of the way, sending Scooter flying backward, crashing into the wall.

“I’m not talking to you! Kermy! Protect me!”

“It’s okay, Miss Piggy… it’s an old friend of Jeremy’s.”

“Oh, well… I still think you should make me feel safe…” Piggy said, moving in close to Kermit.

“Errr, sure thing, Piggy…” Kermit said as he put his arm around Miss Piggy.

Scooter staggered to his feet up against the wall. “So… what are we doing about this Jackson Fenix?”

Jeremy sat up on the couch, his face showing a glimpse of confidence. “Bring him back here.”

Kermit’s eyes showed some concern as he turned back to Jeremy. “Are you sure about that? We can ask him to leave.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jeremy reaffirmed. “I’m ready to talk to him.”

CIBERNETICO was no more.

Krash still wasn’t responding to Jeremy’s calls.

But luckily he still had Jackson Fenix.

And Jeremy had a great idea. He had thought back to what Jackson had said that day in the car. That they could become a duo. They could go out on their own. There was still a chance. “Thanks for coming,” Jeremy said as he sat down in the booth at Taco Bell, a Doritos Loco taco in front of him. Jackson Fenix didn’t quite look as happy to see Jeremy as he sat down with him. Jackson had elected to not get anything to eat.

“Look,” Jackson stated, “Jeremy… I…”

“So I’ve been thinking and I’ve been talkin’ to Mr. Scorpane… and I think the duo thing could work for us.”

“Jeremy…” Jackson once again tried to interrupt him.

“And look, I already had some merchandise put together,” Jeremy said as he pulled up a duffle bag off the ground, unzipping it, and pulling out some t-shirts that read ‘The Bestie Boys.’ “What do you think?”

Jackson leaned forward and lifted a t-shirt. He raised an eyebrow as he looked it over. “Bestie Boys?”

“Yeah! That’s us!”

Jackson shook his head. “Jeremy, I’ve been trying to tell you…”

“Just imagine it. We can travel the world together. Me and you. We’re gonna be the best duo this business has ever seen! Can’t you see it?!”

“No,” Jackson said sternly, “I can’t.”

The excitement quickly faded from Jeremy’s face as Jackson tossed the shirt to the table. “What do you mean? This was your idea! You said we could go off on our own.”
‘
“That was then. Jeremy… the Sesame Street ordeal changed things. No one is gonna touch us whether we’re part of a group or just a duo. Dude… I still have nightmares of how pissed off Big Bird was at us for what we did. My boy Nate… we’re gonna go into business together. We’re gonna start our own blender company called Undisputed Appliance.”

“No.. no.. no.. no… no… but our dream… it’s what Krash wants from us… he saw our potential. He knew what we were capable of.”

“Dude, this was never my dream. It was just a fuckin’ television show. Krash put us together because we were a bunch of misfits that they hoped people would want to watch. A one in a million shot to be famous. I took a chance. We took a chance. And guess what, man - they didn’t want to watch us. So he moved the fuck on. Now it’s time for you to move the fuck on too. Because I am.”

“No,” Jeremy continued to shake his head more and more frantically. “It can’t be. No. Jackson… don’t do this to me… we are the Bestie Boys!”

“We’re not,” Jackson said as he stood up from the booth. “And we never will be.” Jeremy began to break down, crying right in the middle of the Taco Bell. Jackson was clearly uncomfortable with the situation and he began to back away. “Look… dude… I think you might need to get some help. You’re way too obsessed with all this.”

“No!” Jeremy continued to repeat. “I’m not obsessed! You’re abandoning our dream! You’re abandoning me! Just like Krash!”

With all eyes from the fast food establishment on them, Jackson continued to back away. “Uhh… okay, I’m gonna go… but like… uh… good luck… with… all that…”

Jeremy buried his head into the table as Jackson left him alone.

“And so you just press this button right here,” Jackson Fenix walked into Jeremy’s dressing room alongside the Swedish Chef. Jeremy has a blender in his hand and seems to be explaining it to the chef. “And boom, it’s shredded that stuff up finer than Britney Spears herself!.”

“Hurdy schurdy curdy birdie purdie!” the Swedish Chef exclaimed indistinguishably but seemed quite pleased.

“You’ll take fifty of them! That’s awesome, dude! Here, take our card and give a call to my boy Nate and he’ll set you up.” The chef happily took the card from Jackson and waddled off as Jackson looked into the room. “Oh, hi guys.”

“Welcome Mr. Fenix,” Kermit waved. “What brings you to the Muppet Show.”

“Oh snap, it's Kermit!" Jackson exclaimed before noticing Jeremy on the couch. "Hey, man! I heard my old friend was gonna be here.”

“Well, I suppose we should give them some privacy,” Kermit said, hinting at Scooter and Miss Piggy.

“Why would we do that?” Miss Piggy said, looking forward to the drama she was hoping would unfold. “It’s about to get good!”

“Come on Piggy,” Kermit insisted as he led her away, Scooter following behind them.

“Sooo…” Jackson said awkwardly as he walked across the room toward Jeremy.

“So…” Jeremy repeated as Jackson took a seat on the couch next to him. “I take it Undisputed Appliance is going well.”

“Aw man, it’s awesome!”

“Did you come here to rub that in my face?”

“Oh, no…” Jackson backed off. “That’s not it at all. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Me and Nate have had a bunch of success but I can’t help but feel bad about what happened to us, y’know. And like… even with all the success I had, I’ve come to realize that I probably could’ve handled things differently. I left you by yourself. And then when Krash went missing after that on-stage beef he had with rock legend Randy Ramon himself…”

“Yeah… that was crazy…” Jeremy said, some nervousness evident in his voice.

“I know right?! Dude, at one point I was like… man… did Jeremy have something to do with him being missing because like, holy shit were you obsessed with that guy. Crazy, right?”

Again, some nervous laughter from Jeremy. “Heh… yeah…”

“Then I was thinking, like, what if I had something to with you going off the deep end? What if me leaving you like that on that day… it just caused you fuckin’ snap? That’s what made me start to, like, re-evaluate my life, ya know. But then I was glad to hear Krash turned up and you guys were able to reunite. Guess I overreacted in my thoughts. Huh?”

Jeremy let out a sigh of relief. “You sure did…”

“But still, it didn’t change the way I felt, ya know. I did you wrong, man. You were in need and I should’ve been a friend for you. I should’ve helped you out. I’m glad it all kinda worked out but it’s still been eatin’ at me. So when I saw about you working the show and I am in town for a Blender Conference… it all kinda worked out.”

Jeremy simply nodded in response, though it didn’t seem to be the reaction Jackson was looking for.

“So… that’s it? Just a nod?”

“What do you want from me, Jackson?”

“I dunno man, I’m sittin’ here tellin’ you I’m sorry about everything. Maybe you could accept it or somethin’?”

Jeremy laughed as he stood up from the couch. “Wow…” Jeremy said as he walked away. Jackson leaned forward on the couch, confusion was evident on his face. “I thought you said you changed.”

“Excuse me?”

Jeremy walked to the door of the dressing room, shutting the door. “You haven’t changed at all, Jackson.”

“I’m sorry, what? I have! Old me wouldn’t be sorry about this. Old me wouldn’t care at all.”

“No, it’s still all about you. It’s all about Jackson. Do you really think ANY of this has anything to do with you? You say you’ve changed but yet your own ego has you thinking anything that happens in my life is because of you?”

“I… uhh…” Jackson stammered.

“The Bestie Boys was never supposed to be about you and me. It was about me and Krash. Everything I’ve done since I auditioned for Forming the Band was about Krash.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s the point, Jackson. You’re still only worried about your own reputation. You just want to make yourself feel better. But I’m not going to forgive you because… there’s nothing to forgive. You rejecting the Bestie Boys is the best thing that ever happened to me. Because it led me back to Krash. Just as it should’ve been from the beginning.”

“Woah… that’s… kinda hurtful…”

“What’s wrong, Jackson?”

“Dude… I guess I’m not the only one who has changed. You used to be so nice…”

Jeremy smiled, “I am being nice. I’m freeing you from the guilt. It’s okay… I’m okay. Krash is okay. And now you can be okay too. Go back to living your life… I’m fine. Everything is fine. Never been better.”

“Oh…” Jackson said as he stood up, unsure of what to make of the situation. “I guess… that’s good, then?”

Jeremy nodded as he opened the door back. “Yes, I have a show to get ready for.”

Jackson stopped as he got to Jeremy and the doorway. “But wait. Where is Krash, anyway? I can’t even think of one time he’s actually appeared with you since The Bestie Boys debuted.”

Jeremy’s smile faded as he shut the door back. “Krash is fine.”

“Oh… it’s just that…” Jackson said, feeling uncomfortable with Jeremy’s sudden change of demeanor.

“He’s fine. He’ll be joining me on the tour soon enough. Okay? I wish people would stop asking about it.”

“Well, it’s just kinda weird that…”

“HE’S FINE.” Jeremy reopened the door. “Now go.”

“Whatever, man. You’re still super weird.” Jackson said as he left, walking by Miss Piggy who had a glass cup up to the door. Jeremy glanced at Miss Piggy.

“Oh… so THAT’S where I put my cup. Silly me,” she awkwardly backed away before turning around and running off.

The Muppet Show kicked off with Kermit the Frog opening to introduce the show for the audience both in attendance and at home. “Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s The Muppet Show with our very special guest, The Bestie Boys!”

Spoiler: THE MUPPET SHOW THEME

A crowd of children cheer as Jeremy Best walked out onto the Muppet Show Stage, his gold guitar hanging around his shoulder to the side. Jeremy waved to the children, who all seem quite disappointed when it’s just Jeremy that walked out.

“Hiya kiddos!” Jeremy smiled and waved, “I hope you’re ready for a great show tonight.”

A particularly upset child’s voice rang out. “Where’s Krash!”

“Krash wishes he could’ve been here tonight for everyone but he’s feeling a bit under the weather. But that’s okay because the show must go on. Tonight I’m going to be singing one of my favorites and I’m sure it’s one of your favorites as well… from our debut album… it’s Brass Monkey Bars!”

The wall behind Jeremy lifts up to reveal the Muppets band of Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, with Animal on drums, to join Jeremy in performing.

♪♪“Brass Monkey Bars, that funky playground
Where kids gather 'round, laughter's the only sound
Grab the monkey bars, swingin' side to side
It's a wild ride, with friends by your side
Brass Monkey Bars, that funky playground
Jump and climb, make your feet leave the ground
Brass Monkey Bars, a place to have fun
Monkeying around under the shining sun!”♪♪

The children in the audience were clearly not enjoying the performance without Krash. Loudly booing Jeremy. “We want Krash! We want Krash!” was the chant from the children. But Jeremy ignored them, continuing to perform.

♪♪“Monkey bar madness, we're hangin' tight
Kids unite, let's reach new heights
Swinging back and forth, like a monkey in a tree
Feeling so free, come and play with glee
Brass Monkey Bars, that funky playground
Jump and climb, make your feet leave the ground
Brass Monkey Bars, a place to have fun
Monkeying around under the shining sun!”
Kids dancin' and prancin', no time for rest
On the monkey bars, we're at our best
Just grab hold and don't let go
Brass Monkey Bars, the place to show!”♪♪

The booing from the children got louder as now the Muppets band stopped performing, realizing that this was not going well. Scooter was frantically running around, telling the cameras to stop recording. But Jeremy smiled and waved to the audience, seemingly unaware of the negative reaction

“Let’s go! Come on kids sing along! One more time!”

♪♪“Brass Monkey Bars, that funky playground
Jump and climb, make your feet leave the ground
Brass Monkey Bars, a place to have fun
Monkeying around under the shining sun
So swing with joy, from bar to bar
Brass Monkey Bars, where the fun's never far
Kids laughing and playing, happy as can be
In this funky playground, for you and me.”♪♪

“Alright! Thank you! Thank you! You’ve been a great audience!”

Jeremy smiled, enjoying the reaction from the adoring audience. He was so excited at how vocal they had been during his performance. He couldn’t wait to go back and tell Krash all about it.

Who needed Jackson Fenix?

Jeremy had everything he ever wanted.​

 

[Grimoire Lenin]

To Be Wanted

April 30, 2023
Bridgestone Arena, Nashville, Tennessee
Carnal Contendership
Aka Manto’s Locker Room

Her eyes peer into the screen before her, heart palpitating in subtle excitement. It’s the night's main event, and though she isn’t in it, Keiko Hirabayashi still looks forward to it. The match has been breezing by, but she nervously shuffles her feet back and forth. What she has been looking for hasn’t come yet. Bodies pile up into that ring one by one, but none of them interest Keiko, outside of one… Reagan Cole is in that ring, doing so well for himself, focused, ready, and looking like a completely different person than he has in the past. Keiko hates him… her mind flashes to thoughts of hurting him, beating him, putting him in his place… and then the countdown begins… 3… 2… 1…

Aka Yurei’s music plays, and coming from the entranceway, she flies out and gets into the ring. Keiko flutters on the inside, with a sense of pride and support overflowing at the moment. It grows even further when Aka Yurei attacks Reagan, that traitor, that liar… Minutes go by, and then… he comes out. Jeffrey Mason. Keiko feels a sense of dread, and derision towards this man, the one who hurt Aka. If Keiko had her way… he’d be six feet under. Dead, never heard from again… She watches as Reagan becomes distracted for only a moment, and it was all it took for Aka to dump him out. Keiko can hardly contain her excitement as she watches the television screen closely. She claps and cheers for Aka Yurei. That pride and happiness would be only fleeting though, as Reagan would casually climb back into the ropes and dump out Aka Yurei– The refs didn’t even notice Reagan got eliminated. Keiko’s smile faded from her face, and disappointment and frustration would only grow. Aka Yurei fucked over once again. Jeffrey Mason and Reagan Cole showed their true colors here, in the eyes of Keiko; they are not merely rivals. They are the enemy of Aka Yurei, and by extension, the enemy of Keiko herself.

After a few minutes, the door to their locker room opens. Aka Yurei wipes the paint from her face and sighs, tossing the towel she was holding to the ground in frustration. Aka doesn’t say anything, but sits on a nearby metal chair and looks at the ground. Keiko turns the television set off and peers over to Aka. This dejected look in her demeanor gives Keiko pause, but then she finally speaks up.

Keiko: “I told you this would happen… He’d only hurt you and betray you.”

Aka: “Reagan… why would he do that to me? Why didn’t he just accept that I eliminated him fair and square? It’s every person for themselves… why didn’t he get that? I thought he was still someone who would have a little respect–”

Keiko takes a few steps over to Aka and places a hand on her shoulder. Keiko senses that now Aka is questioning everything she thought she knew about Reagan, this one incident seeding doubt deep in her mind. Keiko wants Aka to see the truth: Reagan never cared about Aka, he only used her as a tool to win the World Titles, and when they lost, he didn’t need her anymore.

Keiko: “It’s because he’ll do anything it takes to win, A-chan… Jeffrey has given him the push to indulge in his deepest desires. He’s not an honest man, he’s manipulated you into believing you were friends. He still chooses to team with the man who hurt you– Doesn’t that tell you enough about him?”

Aka doesn’t respond to this; she instead silently stews in her own piece of misery. Keiko’s best attempts at comforting her don’t seem to be having much effect. Keiko sighs and squeezes Aka’s shoulders.

Keiko: “A-chan, there’s always the next match. Forget about today, let’s look towards tomorrow. You’ve got so much more to look forward to than hanging onto the past. It’s time to retake control of your feelings.”

Aka: “... You’re probably right, Keiko. It just bothers me so much about this… What happened to Reagan? I thought I knew him–”

Keiko swiftly interjects before Aka Yurei could finish her thoughts. A finger is pressed to Aka’s lips, the velvet touch of her gloves softly brushing with her skin. Keiko leans her head in and begins to speak in a soft, silky tone, with undertones of comfort and desire hidden underneath.

Keiko: “His true colors began to show, he did what he had to to get ahead in his career… When you both lost the titles, he was done with you, he abandoned you. He never visited you once in the hospital while you were out. He’s been focused on himself and his own career… don’t you think it’s time for you to focus on your own? Work with me, A-chan. Together we’ll be great again… Like we were in Japan.”

Aka turns her head to look back at Keiko. There’s a look of uncertainty and a looming sense of sadness in her eyes. Keiko’s heart starts to run quickly yet again. When Aka looks at her like that, how can it not? Keiko’s mouth twists into a smirk; she just can’t help that Aka looks so cute and helpless. She needs Keiko’s help, but Keiko doesn’t know if Aka realizes it yet.

Aka: “I don’t know; I need a little more time, Keiko– I know I can do this though. I can win if I need to. I’ll show it to you.”

Keiko stands up and turns away from Aka Yurei, and heads towards the door. With a quick peer back and a soft smile. Keiko Hirabayashi waves her hand and speaks, with a little excitement in her voice, but also with a sense of looming expectations of the worst.

Keiko: “If you think you can do it… then show me, I’ll be waiting.”

Keiko opens the door, and exits the locker room, leaving Aka to stew in her own thoughts. Aka’s got a chance to do something and show she can still win by herself… so why do Aka’s hands keep trembling out of uncertainty?​

---

Saturday, May 18, 2023
Smoothie King Arena, New Orleans, Louisiana
Fallout 28
Backstage
​

Reagan Cole and Tommy Bedlam are continuing their battle outside the ring. First, we see the Cowboy thrown back-first into the barricade next to the commentary booth. Bedlam slumps to the ground and Cole collects his legs, maybe looking to catapult him into the steel ring post. Tommy fights out with right hands, though, and then kicks Cole away from him with a boot. Bedlam quickly climbs to his feet and takes Reagan down with a hard clothesline! Cole is given no time to rest up, with Tommy picking him up by the scruff of the neck and throwing him over the commentary booth!

Jean-Luc Watkins: "Watch out!"

The commentators disperse as Cole sprawls out amongst their chairs, whilst in the ring we see Aka Yurei drop Noriko over her knee with a backbreaker. Madison Gray, meanwhile, has turned the tables on Makima, working her over in the corner with a series of knife edge chops. Al Blizzard and Lizzie both watch on from the outside, hesitant to re-involve themselves in the action just yet…

Allen Price: "Madison Gray drags Makima out of the corner, maybe looking for a DDT here…"

Gerald Grayson: "But a beautiful Northern Lights Suplex from Makima Snowmantashi! She bridges for the cover…"

ONE… TWO… NO!

Gray kicks out, and Snowmantashi is up to her feet quickly to see Aka Yurei charging at her for a discus lariat attempt… ducked by Makima…

Jean-Luc Watkins: "SKO!!! SKO!! Makima hits it!!"

Allen Price: "And she hooks Aka’s leg…"

ONE… TWO… THREE!!​

We cut backstage to see a frustrated and distraught Aka Yurei pacing around the backstage area. First eliminated in the match that could have given her a #1 contender’s match for the tag titles. She clasps a chair and tosses it aloft through the room and an angered scream.

Aka: “Why can’t I do anything right!? Why me!?”

From behind a corner we see Keiko watching, eyeing Aka up, observing her actions in this moment of frustration. Aka collapses into a corner and hangs her head in her hands. A little flutter inside Keiko builds up, and her heart beats faster. It aches to see Aka in such misery. She pops from around the corner and slowly strides up to her partner, the dejected “Crimson Ghost”. Keiko’s eyes peer down at her form, her insides beating and hurting at the sight. She bends down and speaks softly.

Keiko: “Everything is passing you by, A-chan. Reagan, your place as a top Joshi, even the respect of your peers… Things changed, and that’s why you need me. I need you too, A-chan. We need each other if we’re going to make it to the top.”

Aka slowly turns her head and stares into Keiko’s eyes. She’s feeling a sense of sadness and discouragement and wonders what the point of anything is at this moment. We’ve seen this kind of moment before.

Aka: “I– What am I even fighting for anymore, Keiko? I just feel so lost.”

Keiko: “What did you think you were fighting for before your injury?”

Aka looks away, contemplating what she had been doing before her return. Her confidence has taken a few beatings in the past, like when she debuted, and when she lost to Golden Rock almost a year ago. This recent thing with Reagan has once again done a number on her.

Aka: “I thought I was fighting for myself. I wanted to prove to myself that I could win, but– I won the tag titles, but couldn’t do anything else!”

Keiko places a gentle hand on Aka’s shoulder. A few squeezes cause Aka to look up at Keiko… who merely smiles down at her. It’s not harsh, not a false one, as if she’s putting up some facade. It’s a comforting, warm smile. Aka’s seen this in the past, back in happier times when the two were so much closer.

Keiko: “You’ve done more than enough to prove that you belonged, but you were betrayed. In the time that you were gone after being hurt by that man, and double-crossed by Reagan, things have only gotten more difficult for you. You told me you wanted to show me you could win by yourself… do you really think you can keep doing this by yourself?”

The question punctures Aka’s thoughts like a hot knife through butter. She wonders to herself if she can keep trying to go it alone; to continue fruitlessly and endlessly in trying and failing to succeed on her own. What would her mentor say to her right now? What would he think about her once again doubting herself? Then another thought creeps into Aka’s mind. Keiko, who for so long had not been associated with Aka for almost two years, up and shows up out of the blue. The Mistress in Blue coming from nowhere and seeking out Aka once again for a partnership. What made her want this?

Aka: “How can I trust you too, Keiko? After all the things we’ve been through?”

Keiko: “You have to trust me, A-chan. I’m the only person you have left. I’ve always been here, even when we weren’t together, I always thought of you. I just couldn’t get you out of my head. I need you, just as much as you need me.”

Aka: “Even when you were caving my head in? You still thought of me then?”

Memories flash between them, images of their fights in Japan. The battles they shared against one another, and the bloodshed. A memory of Keiko Hirabayashi planting Aka Yurei in the face with a chair comes up, and Keiko cringes, turning away for a second.

Keiko: “It hurt me so much more than it hurt you Aka– I didn’t want to do it, but we both know neither of us had a choice.”

Aka scoffs in disbelief. Keiko hurt Aka in the past, and yet she’s claiming it hurt her to do so? Aka’s eyes narrow and stares into the eyes of Keiko. She wonders if there is just another plan to humiliate her and be made to look like a fool once more.

Aka: “You say that– yet you haven’t done anything to prove it.”

Keiko’s expression switches to anger for merely a second but softens into a smirk. It’s to be expected, the way they fought in the past, the way they had broken up. Keiko may feel remorse for the way it ended but still felt justified in what she had to do back then. Aka demands proof of how much Keiko needs her. What would satisfy Aka? What would put her at ease?

Keiko: “If proof is what you want, then I’ll just have to show you, how much I need you.”

Keiko slowly shifts her left hand and the gentle touch of her velvet glove brushes on Aka’s cheek, Keiko kneels down and leans slowly, gracefully, closer to Aka’s face. Aka’s face begins to flush red with embarrassment; this is a new experience, and Aka’s own heart is pounding faster and faster. Keiko’s cheeks also brush pink, her lips curled into a soft smile. Aka shuts her eyes in disbelief, this isn’t happening, right? It can’t be happening. This is not something she would expect, not from Keiko. Then the soft whisper comes from Keiko, her breath penetrating the ears of the “Crimson Ghost”.

Keiko: “I need you more than anything in my entire life, A-chan. I came here for you, and only you. I want you, and I need you… I can’t stop thinking about you, ya know? It’s why we need to work together. There’s more to it than just that– I just can’t tell you what that is. Not yet, at least. All you have to do is believe in me as I do you… Ganbatte [Do your best], senpai~!”

Aka gasps a little and feels something in the pit of herself that she hasn’t felt in a long time. It was that feeling that she thought she kept hidden for a long time; Keiko always knew how to make her feel a sense of longing and pleasure, and back it comes. Dammit, if it isn’t irresistible to be wanted by someone. It’s almost too much for the “Crimson Ghost”. Her mind goes blank, and at this moment, Keiko’s the only thing she can think of. Aka gulps a little and nods her head silently. Keiko smiles softly at her and looks into Aka’s eyes; they were just so cute, how could she resist someone so helpless and adorable?

Aka: “Alright… I’ll do my best– For the both of us.”

Keiko grins and takes Aka by the arm and pulls her up, wrapping their hands together. It’s been years since they even held hands as friends. This is a different feeling for Aka. Something more than that. She’s got butterflies in her stomach as Keiko pulls her off and the two walk away, back to their locker room, just so Aka can recover after her loss. It’s better for her to focus on the next match with Keiko anyways.​

---

Saturday, May 27th, 2023
Frank Irwin Centre, Austin, Texas
Fallout 29
Aka Manto’s Locker Room

We arrive on the day of the show. What luck for Aka Manto, they have a chance to cut their teeth into some proper competition. For both girls, it’s been something they’ve seemed to be waiting for for a long time. For Keiko Hirabayashi, it is the opportunity to prove herself right; it is the chance to prove that her partner’s former friend is an enemy, and must be defeated. For Aka Yurei, it is finally a chance to confront Reagan Cole after months away from one another. Inside their locker room, Keiko and Aka are prepping and getting ready for their match. Keiko slides on her velvet gloves, while Aka has just finished applying face paint onto herself. Keiko watches as Aka saunters over to a nearby chair and flops down into it. Neither says a word at this moment. It’s a serene moment, at least before the storm that is to come. Keiko breaks the silence first.

Keiko: “We’re gonna have a good match tonight, don’t you think?”

Aka: “Aye– I think it’ll be alright. I just hope we get the win.”

Keiko: “Well, you know how it is; Reagan and Tyler are gonna be tough competition, but I don’t think we’ll have lost our special touch even after all this time. I’m confident we got this. I don’t know much about this Tyler guy though, seems like a total stranger to me.”

Aka: “I’ve never met him either, I don’t think– Maybe he’s one of Reagan’s new friends…”

Keiko: “Whoever he is, he’s just another enemy to be defeated. If he’s with Reagan, then we’re going to treat him just the same as if he was Jeffrey, right?”

Aka: “Yeah…”

Aka trails off a little and turns her head away from Keiko. Keiko for her part leers over and notices something unusual. Aka’s hands twitch and tremble slightly. Keiko frowns a little and appears to look a little worried, before shifting to a small smirk and leaning in towards Aka just a little bit.

Keiko: “Are you nervous, A-chan? To finally confront him?”

Aka turns back to Keiko and looks a bit surprised. Keiko can read her like a book sometimes, almost too well. She looks down at her hands and sighs. Aka thinks to herself that there would have to be something wrong with her not being nervous. This was the man that together she won a world tag title with. Despite their differences in styles, they meshed together, and they went toe to toe with some legendary teams, even managing to defeat two legends of the business. To think of the battle they had with Golden Rock, Executive Excellence, and lastly The Connection. Three legendary teams, for different reasons. Now they’re enemies, over six months removed from the last time they ever talked, saw each other, or, in the case of Reagan, even acknowledged the other. So maybe Aka was nervous, like something gnawing in the back of her mind over this. What made Reagan do all this? Could it be that maybe something is wrong with him?

Aka: “I have to admit… I am feeling a bit nervous, I won’t lie– Having to step into the ring with Reagan again, but this time to fight him. A part of me still feels like this is wrong, and maybe one big misunderstanding–”

Keiko stands up quickly and bends over to get near Aka’s face, a stern expression written upon her. Keiko points a finger at Aka and begins a lecture.

Keiko: “You can’t have doubts like this. You let him realize your mind isn’t squared away, and he’s only going to take advantage of that and defeat you with it. Just realize that he’s going to act all sweet and friendly, to make it seem like he still really cares about you. Don’t fall for it. He already replaced you months ago with that monster Jeffrey. Look at how he treated you in the Carnal Contendership; he cheated and tossed you out like you were nothing special. You both won the FWA Tag Team Championships together and yet he abandoned you and threw you away as if some common clutter. He has to pay, and the both of us can teach him a lesson together.”

Aka raises an eyebrow and her mouth curls slightly into a bemused smirk. She wasn’t really expecting a whole song and dance from Keiko; alas, Aka can’t help but find that there’s still reason in Keiko’s words. There are merely too many coincidences

Aka: “I just can’t shake this feeling though, Keiko– I don’t know why, it just makes me feel so isolated and left out.”

Keiko sighs and tsks to Aka and waves her finger, before leaning back upright and taking a few steps behind Aka Yurei.

Keiko: “Just remember, A-chan. I’m always here for you if you need me. Call my name and I’ll be there, and together we can do anything. Together, we can be great; we can defeat anyone if we try hard enough. Aka Manto is meant to do great things, you just have to let things happen–”

Aka pauses for a moment. What things? She is unsure exactly just what Keiko means by this and hesitates for a second before responding.

Aka: “Let things happen?”

From behind, a pair of arms wrap themselves around Aka, the familiar touch of velvet running down Aka’s arms, and brushing across her abdomen before pulling her into an embrace. Keiko rests her head on Aka’s shoulder, and Keiko’s cheeks become a dark shade of pink. Keiko’s lips come close to Aka’s ears, and then…

Keiko: “Yes, A-chan. You just have to let things… happen, Dārin~! [Darling] Lose yourself in every moment from now on, for me~?”

The sultry whispers echo into Aka’s ears, her face going red from the sensory overload. It’s not just the soft and seductive whispers that pierce Aka, and it’s not just her breaths being able to be heard from being so close to each other. It’s the feeling of being held. Keiko’s warmth radiates onto Aka, and she feels comforted at this moment. All her worries seem to just evaporate in the arms of Keiko Hirabayashi; it’s a good feeling, a feeling she's desired for so long: to be wanted. Dammit, this feeling is irresistible to Aka Yurei.

Keiko: “Are you ready to fight together?”

Aka turns to Keiko and nods her head. She feels comforted by Keiko, and her nervousness seems to dissipate quickly. Maybe a renewed sense of focus? Perhaps a willingness to be vulnerable to her partner once again. Both seem to now be on the same page though. Aka Manto is properly back, and ready to run on all cylinders and make the league fear them.

Aka: “Y-yeah. I think I’m ready now, Keiko. Reagan's going to learn why Aka Manto should be feared.”​

 

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Chapter Zero: An Introduction.

The lake had been frozen the last time they sat next to it. It barely seemed like the same place at all. The banks surrounding the water and the plateau beyond blossomed with vibrant wildflowers amongst long blades of summergrass. Perhaps the vegetation was here last time, and she just couldn’t see it for the thick coating of snow that lay here and upon the rest of the mountain. The fish that swam in formation and caused gentle ripples, too, were previously hidden by a layer of ice atop the lake, separating their universe from ours. As winter retreated, this new and vivid world burst forth, an oasis where once there was drought.
The man sitting next to her also wasn’t the same as the last time she’d seen him. Here, that was. She didn’t count the times she’d seen him on television. Perhaps these sorry interludes were responsible for his change in mood. Or maybe it was just the sun. Some people are just happier in the winter. Life depends on the weather. Regardless of the catalyst for the mood change, the Last Star in the Sky sat next to her on the grass and stared out over the shimmering surface of the clear blue lake, a glum and thoughtful expression decorating his face.
“Twinkle?” he asked, with a cocked eyebrow. It was certainly true that he didn’t enjoy the conversational topic that she’d chosen for them, but his sombre mood couldn’t be entirely explained by the dialogue’s content. He’d been morose long before she’d brought the girl up.
“Yeah,” she said. “Twinkle.”
“What does she mean by this?” he asked, turning to face her. “What does she mean by twinkle?”
“Not sure,” Michelle answered, with a shrug. “I think it’s just a play on words.”
Rondo sighed. Shook his head.
“I don’t know whether to be amused or insulted,” he replied. “You think she’ll choose her dad?”
“Doubt it,” she said, whilst pulling a face designed to reaffirm this doubt. “I don’t think the kaiju likes wrestling anymore. As I’ve already told you, I had to offer him a fair bit to get him to agree to Mexico City. Can’t see Makima offering the same. Young. Don’t think she’s ready to retire.”
“And you are?” he asked, pointedly. “If I was to guess, I would say that you regret your decision already.”
Michelle remained silent. Her counterpart saw this as a taciturn admission that he had the truth of it.
“How long has it been?” he went on. The subtle smirk at work upon his face informed her that she was being mocked. She didn’t enjoy it. He, on the other hand, was having the most fun he’d had since she’d arrived. “Sixteen hours?”
“Eighteen,” she shot back, a little too quickly and a little too defensively. “I’m not here for your jibes.”
He was still smiling, but there was less condescension and mockery present in his eyes now. He stopped just short of kindness.
“Why are you here, Michelle?”
She didn’t answer the question right away. Couldn’t answer the question right away. At the root of it, she was here because she didn’t want to be there. That was always the way. She wondered if this was simply her condition or one that was more widely felt. By the way that he was looking at her, she knew that he understood something about this lack of belonging. Perhaps if she remained quiet for long enough he wouldn’t press her, accepting this abstract understanding as answer enough.
“Michelle?” he prompted. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily.
“I guess I was just in the neighbourhood,” she said. He laughed, and looked away. Back at the lake.
“Just in the neighbourhood,” he repeated.
The surface of the water was as still as the rest of the day. In the distance, Michelle could hear the sweet evening song of a hummingbird, the only other living soul for kilometres around. Dreamer had always thought that she hated mountains: she hated climbing them, she hated reading about people climbing them, and - most of all - she hated training on the side of them. Now, though, she sensed that her judgement had been clouded by her bad experiences in the foothills of Mount Fuji. She thought about the large patchwork of scorched earth where the kaiju’s dojo used to be and smiled to herself.
She fancied that she could easily spend a month here if the host was more amenable. The hummingbird had stopped singing its song. It flew overhead in the direction of the sea. This wasn’t through choice. There were no other options. Their lonely green peak was surrounded by endless blue.
Perfect silence.
Nothing lasts forever. In the distance, a faint and peculiar noise conflicted her senses. In this setting, the sound - which was mechanical and inorganic in nature - was alien, and at odds with the natural setting that her host had worked hard to cultivate. There was no denying the familiarity of it, though. She’d heard it before. By now it almost followed her around, from within and without, puncturing life’s infrequent and fleeting perfect silences with the tact and subtlety of a descending spaceship. Not a metaphor. The ripples on the lake became larger and more rhythmic, caused by some else than the ecosystem it supported.
Before long, the distant whirring noise was unmistakable, and now also not so distant. The Octopi’s octagonal underbelly hovered directly above them, and from a retracting hatch emerged a smaller, near-spherical craft. It plummeted towards them before releasing a modestly sized (but effective) pink parachute, and then rocking back and forth like a feather in free-fall.
Next to her, Rondo’s glum expression turned to one of distaste. He doubled down on this non-verbal assessment of the interloper when Uncle J.J. JAY! (the Nightmarer, the Foot-Grabber, COSMIC HORROR, the 5D Go Master, etc. etc. etc.) stepped out of the landed Octo-Pod and waved at the pair of them.
“I’ll be right back,” Michelle said.
She lit a cigarette as she stomped towards the unwelcome guest. She thought about asking herself (or maybe even asking him) how he found her here before realising how stupid a question this was. He would always be there, no matter where she was or how alone she wanted to be. This was the trade. Uncle had given her the universe, but now she was to pay the toll.
She neglected to speak first. He was fine with this.
“Dreamer!” he started, with enthusiasm and a warmth that Michelle found to be misplaced. He threw his arms around her in a tight but unreciprocated embrace. His tentacles felt moist as they bristled against her cheek. “I’m glad I’ve found you. Everyone else is already on the ship! We’re ready to go!”
“I’m not stopping you from going anywhere,” Michelle said. Uncle still had both of his hands on her shoulders, and shook her gently whilst he spoke.
“I don’t like that tone!” he replied. His own suggested that he was undeterred. “The implications aren’t appreciated, Dreamer. You’re part of the team! And do you know how long it’s been since our last adventure?! How long it’s been since I last left the Earth? Intra-atmospheric flight and star-jumps don’t count. It’s been months! Not since Mile High. We’re long overdue.”
“I’m sort of busy here,” Michelle. Uncle grimaced in response.
“I know this sort of thing has worked for you before,” he began, with some hesitation (but not enough to stop him from continuing). “But it’s sort of old hat by now. This island is tiny and drab in comparison to the wonders out there. And you’ve drilled this particular well once too often. The Last Star is somewhat faded.”
It was unclear whether he heard this last comment, or if his patience had run dry at this moment by mere coincidence, but the forgotten third made up his own mind that his time was being wasted.
“I’ll be here when you are less busy,” he said to Michelle. He was standing in the flattened patch of glass that they’d occupied for most of the previous hour. “There is much for us to talk about that doesn’t concern this twinkle. Or your new friend.”
With that, he walked towards his small house on the hill. Michelle turned back to J.J. JAY! with narrowed eyes.
“You really wanted to get a flight back to Texas?” he asked, whilst offering her a weak pair of thumbs ups that she didn’t appreciate. She meekly followed him towards the Octo-Pod.

Chapter One: Three Early Stories.

“For you, Gerald,” Uncle said, as he threw a small, silver device in the Daredevil’s general direction. Ever the athlete, GiGi snatched the light, handheld machine out of the air and turned it over in his grip. A large, blank screen stared back up at him.
“What is it?” he asked. J.J. JAY! had already returned to his position at the command station in the Octopi’s bridge, the endless blackness of space stretching out before him. He seemed lost in it, a reflective (and rare) silence descending over him, and required a prompt from the young man. “Uncle?”
“GiGi?” he said, turning away from the huge front windows. “What’s what?”
“This thing that you literally just handed to me,” Gerald said, holding the device up to illustrate.
“Oh, that,” Uncle replied. He turned back to his station, entering a sequence that opened up the chiral exhausts and spurred the ship ever onwards at an even greater pace. “It’s an Expo-842_8 reader. Will answer all of the backstory questions you have during this or any other adventure. I’m always happy to answer them, of course. But there are times when I’m elsewhere, and my recall isn’t quite what it was a few centuries ago. The Expo-842_8 is one of my own inventions...”
“Excuse me?” Thomas queried. The interjection came from the research station, where West was tinkering with his daily report from the Moon-Base visit. The deadline was already passed, but Uncle fortunately allowed an eight minute grace period for superficial edits.
“Sorry, I forgot you were here,” Uncle said. “The Expo-842_8 is one of mine and Thomas’ inventions. But yes, it’s trawled through the archives of every planet’s version of Reddit and built up a rather formidable amount of knowledge. I’ve set it to prioritise news articles from reputable sources, extracts from notable artworks, cosmopedia pages, reports from our own logs, and entries from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.”
“The Douglas Adams book?” Gerald asked. Uncle narrowed his eyes.
“Didn’t we go through this?” he replied.
“We did,” Dreamer interjected. She was flicking through a book that was made of paper. At least four Nephews had called it adorable since she boarded. “It was years ago. Gerald wasn’t here.”
“Gerald’s always here,” Harry said. “When was that?”
“How does it work?” Gerald asked, his eyes fixed on the dormant screen. His swift changing of the subject was inadvertent but well-timed. Michelle allowed a flash of anger to pass over her eyes before returning them to the print in her book. “There’s no buttons.”
“Just hold it and think,” Uncle instructed. “The neurodetectors will do the rest. Try it with the Hitchhiker’s Guide. Not the Douglas Adams book.”
“Okay,” Gerald said, whilst turning his mind to a version of the Hitchhiker’s Guide[001] that he was unfamiliar with. Or more unfamiliar with. He’d never read Douglas Adams. “Neat.”
“So, where is it that we’re going?” Michelle asked, reaching the end of her chapter and setting her book down on the arm of a pink, L-shaped sofa.
“_____,” Uncle said. “Seems a fairly interesting place, by all accounts.”
“No it doesn’t,” Thomas disagreed. His glum outlook on the mission to come did little to damp OBB’s spirits, who collected a beer from the fridge next to Harry’s station, nor Michelle’s, who caught a second thrown to her by Scorpane, but Uncle seemed more perturbed by the podcast host’s lack of enthusiasm.
“Where’s your sense of wonder!” Uncle declared, in exasperation and with his arms gesticulating freely. “Of adventure! It’s been months! Get on board, Nephews!”
“We’re already on board,” Michelle said. “You insisted upon it.”
“What’s on _____?” Gerald.
“I’m glad that you asked, GiGi,” Uncle, approvingly. “You can get the boring stuff from the Expo-842_8, but as for our purpose there, I defer to three of my Nephews for their most recent reports. There are many storytellers amongst us, and it’s important to give each of them a chance to shine. Thomas, are you ready?”
“Just in time,” Thomas said. The rest of the Nephews present on the bridge gathered around the large interface at his station, which provided holographic illustrations as he began his tale.
*
Those that were left on the Moon-Base were, almost by definition, a strange bunch. I had a sense that they were stationed here for specific reasons. As though they needed to get away from Earth but didn't want to lose sight of it completely. There were only four of them there: Hermes, the Twins (Tonya-Ф and Vill-Ю, a pair of rhoyvulls[002] who acted as my current escort on the surface), and Jansen, who couldn't read but never left the library. I could just about remember the days when there were dozens of Nephews stationed at the Moon-Base[003], but there was little reason for such a presence here now. Nobody cares about space anymore.
It didn't take us long to traverse the half a kilometre between the base and the crater, which wasn't particularly wide. Half a football field, maybe. I smiled to myself. No matter how far I travelled from Los Angeles and how many incredible things I saw or even caused, I would still relate the length and area of things to football fields.
I turned back to look at the Moon-Base: a fifty metre high octagonal tower, bright pink in colour and groping out from the side of a mountain range. It was difficult to believe that it couldn't be seen from above (or, more pertinently, from down below on Earth), but Uncle's skill with mirroring spells[004] was unparalleled. Beneath the tower I could make out the forms of the twins struggling to keep pace, their short steps and general lack of hustle wasting precious time.
I walked into the crater, and as I did I felt a hum of activity underfoot. Not chiral, but something like it. I’d felt it before: here in this spot and a long time ago. The monolith was clear in front of me, now. Taller than I was and broader, too. It seemed timeless. Eternal, even. The black surface of it was as sleek and smooth as it ever was, but for the slight, silver inscriptions close to its edges. Those were new. Or old, maybe.
"You see the inscriptions?" Tonya asked, as she and her brother joined me next to the monolith. I nodded my head. I’d seen the pictures they'd sent, but now that I was here the markings did have a hypnotic, otherworldly effect about them. I ran my fingers across the slender designs, the ends of my digits tingling with the contact. I studied the formation of the narrow, silver lines. They were mostly old runes, a language that my Y-Chip[006] couldn't make sense of, as well as miniscule images of flowers and insects and stars, adorned with artistic, spiralling flourishes. "The signal lasted ten hours. Pointed right at _____. You heard the recording? Has anyone managed to de-scramble it?"
"I heard it," I said, after finally removing my nose from the surface of the monolith. "It's just white noise. Static. We're no closer than we were when you sent it."
I took a deep breath that sounded like a sigh. Weighed up the monolith once more. Cocked my eyebrow in bemusement. Turned back to the twins.
The boy was cold. His hood was up and I could barely see any of him buried beneath his layers. He looked up at the Moon-Base and its associated warmth longingly. His sister was more passive about the temperature. She only stared at the sky.
As we walked back to the tower, I found myself thinking about _____. More than I ever had in my life thus far. There is nothing there of any real note, as far as I know. A few farming communities. Settlers from somewhere else. I inwardly sighed again. I knew that Uncle would now want to go to _____, and that there was nothing remotely exciting about farming communities.
*
The conclusion of the report’s reading brought a round of applause from the assembled Nephews, with Uncle leading the charge and patting Thomas heartily on the back.
“Bravo, Nephew!” he declared. “Putting aside the closing barbs - more offensive to farming communities than to your COSMIC HORROR, as they were…”
“I thought we were putting aside the closing barbs?” Harry. Uncle responded by miming the act of zipping shut his mouth before immediately beginning to speak again.
“Excellent description,” Uncle. “Loved the use of first person. I’ve missed that, lately. Okay, who’s next? Maid?”
Having thus far remained enclosed in perfect silence, the Maid of Death - sat in the middle of a trio, flanked by NOE-I and Kha’’rina Halruzh - proceeded with far less pomp, circumstance, and enthusiasm. She spoke with no holographic accompaniment, something which Uncle thought hampered the overall presentation but did give her report a simplicity that matured into intimacy.
**
Crew: Maid of Death, NOE-I, and Kha’’rina Halruzh.
Mission Objective: reconnaissance on the planet _____, namely its deposits of natural resources (specifically vuluvium, phosphorium, and chiral ore) and its sudden decline in sentient population.
Principal Locations: New Orleans, Earth (Third Quadrant), Lower Atmosphere, _____ (Third Quadrant), the Octopi #2 (transit).
Notes: Paused training in New Orleans in light of report from Diego Bockwinkle - a returning Nephew scout (that’s a cub scout) from the Outer Quadrants - regarding a mass exodus he witnessed near the Inner Omega Spiral[007] of the Third Quadrant[008]. Four huge, unmarked Class C freight-liners with the biological signature of a thousand-ish beings were observed gliding away from _____. Initial research showed no signs of life on the planet, but upon closer inspection we found two beings of mostly dworlish[010] origin living near the mountains in its northern hemisphere. _____ is a miserable place. Storms ravage it constantly. An abandoned city nestles amongst the hills, using their broad shoulders as shelter from the hard and incessant rains that fall everywhere else. Much of the chiral ore has been tapped, but huge deposits of vuluvium[011], phosphorium[012], and cosmic lubricant remain around its frozen poles and beneath the chaotic oceans. Didn’t make contact with beings on-surface. Returned to continue to train.
**
“Well, it was factual, if nothing else,” Uncle pointed out, leading a far more tepid round of applause for this second reading. “I was hoping that you’d embellish a little more in the re-telling, but there you are. Some Nephews have a flair for other pursuits. But the point is that _____ is rich and ripe – my favourite combination!”
“You said there were three?” Michelle asked.
“Three?” Uncle said, bemused. “No: rich and ripe. That makes two.”
“She means three stories,” Gerald replied.
“Ah, yes!” Uncle remembered. “Blazed, you’re up!”
As the short, scrawny, and scruffy-looking Nephew stepped into the centre of the horseshoe, his partner - appearance mostly the same, a little taller but equally ramshackle - busied himself in setting up a small puppet theatre at his side. Thomas had offered them holograms but they’d insisted on the archaism. Both Blazed and Depressed looked mostly the same, except for a pallid and ghoulish quality that both Michelle and Gerald surmised went part and parcel with a couple of weeks floating through outer space.
***
It begins with me, us, floating through outer space. The first few moments were the hardest. Bracing. It was safe to say that it was unlike anything that I’d ever experienced. You realise just how little you actually have experienced once you’ve been cast into space. That is more true for a guy like me than most.
It’s true for D, too. D is my best buddy and we are mostly the same. We are Blazed and Depressed and we are blazed and depressed, not respectively, but we are also a great many other things. We’re friends. We’re Nephews. We’re YouTubers[014]. We’re theatre critics. We’re flawed and weak and craven and a hundred other such adjectives. But, as we meandered through space, together now as we had always been together in life, we found that we were nothing at all.
Uncle had, of course, planned for this. He knew that there was an airlock in the COSMIC! Zone and that some bright spark would think it fun to expel a Nephew or two into space. Uncle knows a lot of things and guesses a lot more. Usually it turns out that he’s right. All of the Nephews in the battle royale were equipped with full body nano-suits that would activate in the unlikely (but eventually inevitable) case that one of us found ourselves on the wrong side of the station’s walls. That’s why the first few moments were the hardest. When the nano-suit covered our bodies it mostly became a matter of waiting.
Waiting was easy. We’ve been waiting our whole lives.
We couldn’t talk but we could think. I thought about the followers of our channel and how worried they’d be when the show didn’t go up on Monday at 3AM Eastern. Then I thought about how pretty everything was out here. Then I got bored and hated the scenery. Then it was pretty again. Alternating between the two for about a month. Then I closed my eyes. Held D’s hand to keep him close.
The following two weeks were a blur. I couldn’t think of anything.
The Maid found us a few days before our suits expired. Uncle had left a kilogram of Indoleviathuanian slow-leaf[017] in our quarters, which was thoughtful. We asked to be dropped off on Flyhar in the Adjacents for a performance of a theatrical retelling of Midnight Saunter, directed and performed by freed Guelevian pleasure-droids[018]. It was okay.
***
“Another stellar effort!” Uncle announced, when Blazed fell silent and into a despondent malaise. The other began to pack away his puppets. “I really felt that I was there. That I knew what it was to float through outer space.”
“Wasn’t really very focussed,” Harry shrugged, offering contradiction.
“Focussed on what?” Uncle queried. He seemed offended by the implication.
“Focussed on anything,” Harry clarified.
“Not everything needs focus,” Marcus interjected, from his position at the security station next to the bridge’s entrance. It might’ve seemed ridiculous to have a guardsman stationed on the door whilst in a planet’s lower atmosphere, but Uncle and the Nephews had been through one too many surprise boardings to remain careless. “Some things just are. Chaos exists. Purpose is temporary.”
“Yes, quite,” Uncle replied. “Always love your philosophy, Marcus. I’ll have to consider the reports before I grade them and pick a winner. I’m sure they’ll all score highly, though, and within about a point of one another.”
“Got it in the bag,” Thomas mumbled to Quiet, with a smirk on his face.
“But now is not the time for all that,” Uncle went on. He was back at his station and entering another series of convoluted commands. A huge planet - mostly brown but for the red and golden wildfires visible from even up here and the raging purple ocean - had crept up on them and now occupied most of the front window. “We’re here, Nephews! ______! And now you can see how it earned such a name. But take your breath back: there’s work to do! Gerald! Stop staring at that thing or I’ll take it off you…”

Chapter Two: Raise High the Roofbeams, Carpenters.

Even from a distance, as the Octopi made its approach towards the small, brown planet, _____ didn’t look like a particularly welcoming place. It was an arid, dank sphere on the very edge of the Inner Omega Spiral, orbiting the dying star Porodus[019] from a distance and only bathed in dim echoes of its light. Chaotic weather systems made it difficult for them to find a suitable entrance point through its atmosphere, which Thomas only managed after an hour of careful mathematics.
The skies cleared slightly when the podcast host skilfully negotiated between the shoulders of two huge mountains, the largest pair of a sprawling range that surrounded an expansive patchwork of lowland flats. The fields might just have been the only green on the planet’s monotonously brown surface. They flew low, tracking the meandering path of a wide, purple river that flowed down from the mountains and into a lake. Across it was the outline of a large city against the backdrop of acres of tilled land. The signs of agriculture and civilization were in stark contrast to the uninhabited (and at times apparently uninhabitable) planet they’d observed outside of the circle of mountains. Michelle got the sense that not much existed upon _____ beyond the protection of these stone walls.
Uncle was carrying out a more observatory role during the setting up of their camp. He watched on as Michelle and Gerald dragged the second of two pink couches down the ramp from the Octopi’s bridge and onto the white sand beach. Only after this work - unnaturally exhausting given the planet’s high gravity and pressure - could Dreamer sit down and take in her surroundings. The rest of the Nephews were already sprawling out on the sand, stretching their legs after a reasonably long and relatively eventless journey.
The lake and the vale were hidden amongst a tight circle of mountains, a sprawling city hugging its northern edge and covering much of the foothills of the range’s tallest hill. Both suns were tiny and distant, doing very little to warm the surface of this remote and mostly barren planet. A quartet of chiral heaters[022] from the ship provided them with enough warmth to stir nostalgia for a beach trip back on Earth. Michelle hated beaches, perhaps unsurprisingly.
“Don’t get comfortable,” Uncle instructed. “We should go and say hello to our new host. She’s probably seen the ship by now. No time like the present!”
He meant it, and shortly afterwards J.J. JAY! led a long line of Nephews around the perimeter of the lake and into the city. Uncle had been worried that searching for the pair of remaining inhabitants would be akin to seeking a needle in a haystack, but the young woman - half dworlish, half something else, and on the cusp of adulthood - seemed almost to be waiting for them. She was sitting on a swing made of pristine, gleaming silver, gently rocking herself back and forth on the balls of her feet. A large pair of black aviators covered all six of her eyes. She was invincible in these sunglasses. She was modern Scott Walker.
“I saw your ship,” she said. Her voice was high and thin and lacked confidence. She had a tendency to mumble and leave thoughts unfinished, neglecting to flesh them out in favour of starting new ones. “I thought that you were –. I hoped some of them had returned. But it’s you. Whoever you are.”
“I am Uncle,” Uncle said. “And these are my Nephews.”
“So many Nephews,” the woman replied. She didn’t know even a percent of it. Half of those that had come here were still at camp, and all of the Nephews currently on _____, or course, made up only a tiny fraction of those spread across the universe. “Are you hungry?”
Uncle’s stomach rumbled, as if on queue. Harry was tasked with preparing dinner whilst they made contact but Harry was a lousy cook.
“Only if you have food to spare,” Uncle said.
“There’s plenty of food,” she said. “It was a good harvest. They all worked very hard. Almost as if they wanted us to be okay, even after they went. I mean, I worked hard, too. But not hard enough to feed a city for all of winter. That’s roughly how much food we have. I think it will probably perish before we have a chance to eat it all. So there’s enough to go around. I think my uncle made a stew. Or a soup. I’m not really sure of the difference. But I guess that’s not really important.”
“It’s all important,” Uncle replied, with a bright, encouraging smile. The girl thought she was rambling, but even these half-thoughts revealed a lot to the COSMIC HORROR. He held out his hand towards her. “The name’s J.J. JAY!. Shall we go inside?”
“Minami-KX4Ω,” the girl answered. She stared at JAY!’s outstretched hand, shuffling awkwardly as she left it hanging there. “We’ll eat in the library. Lots of food, but not enough space at home. And you can meet my friends there, too.”
Thomas was surprised with the quantity and quality of books that the people of _____ had accrued in their public library, which wouldn’t have been out of place on a smaller planet of a metropolis system[023]. He lamented his unconscious bias. Farmers can be well-read too, he reminded himself. Whilst J.J. JAY! was introducing himself to Mianmi’s own uncle, the podcast host took a wander around the building to chronicle its contents. It was mostly made up of classic fiction and important non-fiction from the Third Quadrant, but there were also selected works from the other three this side of the Crease[024], and even one or two translated transcripts from the Other Half. There was a section dedicated to Mark Four[026] fiction that included a number of titles from Jupiter, which he thought he’d show Michelle if they had time later on in the night.
“Quite the selection,” Thomas said as he rejoined the group, who were already settled around a large dining table in the library’s reading room. “I’ve never seen a full set of Quent’s On Time & Her Secrets[028] first editions before. Original binding, too.”
“This is the bookworm of the group, then,” said the old man at the head of the table, who Thomas had only been briefly introduced to as Iztek K-III when they’d first arrived at the library. He was smiling in an encouraging fashion, as if he enjoyed Thomas’ commentary on the city’s collection. His collection now, Uncle supposed. His and Minami’s.
“The majority of my Nephews are,” JAY! mused. “But Thomas seems the only one rude enough to neglect the first course in favour of perusing book spines.”
“I’ll catch up,” Thomas said, with a wink, as he sat down next to Minami and tucked into the whiteleaf salad[029] that the old man had prepared for his guests. He seemed excited for the opportunity. West imagined he didn’t have the chance to entertain all too often.
“I’m glad you met my friends,” Minami said to him.
“As wonderful as it is to entertain again,” Iztek said, whilst raising a glass to Uncle. “I wonder to what we owe the honour. _____ isn’t on many of the major trade routes, and I’m sure you saw the weather out there. Not ideal for a holiday.”
“You seem to have found a nice, quiet spot,” Uncle replied. The response and his smile weren’t enough to dissuade his host from insisting on elaboration. “We are travelling horticulturists, dearest new friend, preparing for a show over in the Fourth Quadrant at the end of the year. Flora-Fest[030] 862[031]. You might’ve heard of it?”
“Of course!” Minami said, her eyes shining. “I mean, I’ve seen photographs. Read descriptive reports. I hope to go one day.”
“And I’m sure you will!” Uncle declared. He continued, but - at the other end of the table to this ongoing dialogue - Michelle leant in closer to Gerald.
“Horticulturists?” Michelle whispered to Gerald, at the opposite end of the table from the majority of the conversation.
“You think he grows tulips?” Gerald asked.
“What is this shit?” Michelle. The Daredevil shrugged.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to show his whole hand,” Gerald, with a knowing grin. Dreamer’s glare sharpened.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I watched what happened with Snowmantashi,” Gerald. “The older one. Maybe you could learn some restraint, too.”
“I thought you liked a headstrong girl, Gerald,” Michelle. She suppressed her growing ire and returned to her salad.
“Please, eat as much as you can,” MInami instructed, as West chowed down at a quite impressive pace. “We’ve got plenty of food that needs to go. We’ll end up freezing a lot of it, but we can’t bank on a constant power supply since the engineers left. Part of the reason why we dine under candlelight tonight. That and my… sensitivities.”
Minami paused for a moment, blinked, and then continued to chew her food.
“And when was it that the engineers left?” Uncle enquired.
“The same time as everyone else,” Minami said. “You only just missed them, to be honest. Five days ago it was. One morning, the whole city files into four huge starliners that are suddenly parked up by the lake, and off they go. Took all the stockpiles from the mines with them. Left the food, fortunately.”
“Not even a goodbye?” Uncle asked.
“That’s just the thing,” she said. “I’ve known these people for my whole life. Ever since my father, rest in power, moved here twenty two standard years ago. I’m sure you’ve met dworls before. Generally, we come from the Burudheim System[032], and I am unlike the majority of my brethren in that regard in that I was born here. My father met his wife there, back home, and she stayed for years before the hustle and bustle got too much for her. They were heading to Xherr’’on VII[033]. Uncle Iztek told him it was a quiet life for a dworl. He tagged along. But their pilot performed an emergency landing here and then had three simultaneous heart attacks. The people who were already here arranged for most of the passengers to continue on to Xherr’’on VII, but they ended up staying. Father’s first wife decided to leave, but was perfect here for a dworl. The quiet life. And the leaders didn’t seem to mind, as long as they made our quotas on the fields. Eventually they became we. My father remarried here and they ended up raising six kids. Five of them have left now. My brothers and sisters. All of them are doing wonderful things. The eldest is Sazhkov. She’s an actress over on Δ1[034]. Plays, mostly, but the occasional motion picture. Have you ever heard of Belzood Chin?”
“I’m familiar with his work,” Uncle said, guardedly.
“Well, she co-starred with him in something last year,” Olelgozh continued. “She sent me a microchip. She’s very talented. Kazhov, my eldest boy, runs a clean energy thinktank in the Adjacents. Then there’s the twins: Polizha and Nadezha. Academics, if you’ll believe it. They take after mother. Nadezha just accepted a research fellowship in the Klondike System[035], studying meteor chirality. At least, I think it was meteor chirality. Polizha is studying black holes at the University of the Singularity[036].”
“My alma mater,” Thomas interjected, whilst skewering a mound of whiteleaves with his fork.
“Davizhov, the youngest, plays zholball[#37] professionally for the Hellenan Air Lions,” the girl went on. Those assembled around the table could tell that the old man, who listened with a beaming smile upon his face and was particularly proud of this last family accomplishment.
“I was more surprised than anyone,” Iztek put in. “I never thought he had the makings of a varsity athlete.”
“But there you have it,” Minami continued. “Five cuckoos, flown the nest. Even I’m surprised that I have stayed. But someone needs to look after the old man, I suppose.”
Most of the Nephews had finished their whiteleaf salad. Iztek began to ladle out spoonfuls of a thick vegetable stew from a large, silver trough. It seemed he enjoyed batch-cooking.
“And where are your mother and father?” Uncle asked, helping himself to a taste of the warming and wholesome meal.
“Father died the day after they all left,” Minami said, matter-of-factly. “After giving a rousing speech about how we could survive for many lifetimes with the fruits of the last harvest, left uneaten by those who fled. Not sure what happened. The doctors left, too. Mother’s still here.”
“She didn’t go with everyone else?” Michelle asked. Her intrigue was piqued by the girl’s tale. Gerald kicked her under the table and mouthed don’t get us involved. Dreamer jabbed his shoulder in response. “We’re already involved, Gerald.”
“Mother couldn’t leave,” Minami said. Something about her facial expression suggested that she was confused by the question. “She’s part of this place. And she protects me. She wouldn’t leave whilst I’m still here.”
Later on, the Nephews sat in a horseshoe around a chiral heater on the white-sand beach in front of the Octopi. The distant suns had both disappeared from view, a quartet of silver moons replacing them in the black sky.
They each fell asleep around the heater’s warm glow. Michelle was the last.
She dreamt that she swam in the ocean. A shadow loomed in the distance. Groped into the deep with its long, thick tentacles. Moved slowly but moved towards her.
She too was controlled by the currents. At Poseiden’s whims. She drifted aimlessly towards the shadow until she woke up.

Chapter Three: With Love and Squalor.

Michelle woke early. She watched the distant, dying Porodus rising above the horizon as she ate a bowl of porridge. Gerald joined her as she swallowed the last mouthful.
“Sleep well?” she asked.
“All things considered,” Gerald said.
“All things considered,” Michelle repeated. She took a sip of her coffee and offered the flask to her partner. He shook his head and collected an orange juice from the coolbox. “And what do you have to be so concerned about, generally speaking?”
“Well, there’s you, of course,” Gerald replied. “There’s always you.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Michelle said, dismissively. Old Billy Boy snored gently in the background.
“I’m afraid that I do,” Gerald, with a sigh that Dreamer found a little condescending. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I mean, I’ve accepted that there’s going to be things that you do that I don’t like. And that, most of the time, I’m not going to be able to stop you. But I thought that we were, by now, at least past the stage where I have to find out your retirement plans on YouTube.”
“I don’t have retirement plans,” Michelle replied. “I don’t plan to retire.”
“Of course not,” Gerald said. “But I know who you’re facing. You know who you’re facing better than anyone. It’s a real possibility. And where does that leave me? We’re a team.”
“I know that,” Michelle. If she’d meant to expand on this, the Daredevil didn’t allow it.
“A team should stand together,” Gerald insisted. “I should’ve been there in Tokyo. Jon had Izaya. He had Makima, too.”
“I have to do this alone.”
“No,” Gerald said. “No, you don’t. Never have to.”
It reminded her of something the kaiju said once, when she’d spoken of running away. They sat on the courtyard in front of his dojo on Mount Fuji. A dojo that she and the rest of the Nephews had razed to the ground in an act of petty revenge.
“Are you running away?” the kaiju asked. The meaning was obvious. Faces floated before her in the darkness. Bell Connelly and the Prodigy, and Gerald also.
“Sometimes you have to,” she said. He thought about it, and then pulled a face that suggested he didn’t like the sentiment.
“Wise to, maybe,” he said. “Never have to.”
On the white-sand beach on _____, Michelle shuffled uncomfortably beneath the weight of Gerald’s accusing gaze.
“Do you have to start first thing in the morning?” Michelle asked. “I just woke up.”
“You’ve eaten a whole bowl of porridge,” Gerald said. His eyes drifted to the pile of ends at her side. “And smoked seven cigarettes. Or joints. Either way, you’ve been up for a while.”
“Okay, you just woke up,” Michelle said.
“And when will we talk about things?” Gerald.
“What would you like to talk about?” Michelle.
“A number of things,” Gerald, before beginning to count these things on his fingers. “The tag team championships, whether we should continue as the champions, whether you want to be replaced, whether you want to vacate, even… I have no clue where your head is at, Michelle. How can you focus on what we’re building with this massive shadow looming over you? Over us both?”
“I…” Michelle began, before trailing off. She bit her bottom lip, words catching in her throat, thoughts clogging up her mind. “I don’t know, Gerald. I think we both need to think about it. Give me today.”
“Today,” Gerald agreed. If he’d wanted to push the subject further, the awakening of the Maid, NOE-I, and Kha’’rina - all rather oddly within a minute of one another - put a stop to that. The other Nephews gradually rose and began to prepare for the day ahead, but not before breaking their fast at length and being called to an impromptu meeting by Uncle J.J. JAY!
“I wouldn’t call this a meeting, exactly,” Uncle began. I’m sure that this isn’t a shot at my narrating skills, given that JAY! cannot hear me. The contradiction stings, though. “Rather a gathering. But there’s something that I’d like to discuss. Something that is long overdue.”
Here he paused to take a few thoughtful puffs on his vape. The Nephews looked at each other nervously. Uncle was prone to melodrama and called at least four meetings (slash gatherings) each week, but that didn’t mean none of them brought bad news. In fact, most of them brought bad news. They braced collectively.
“H.P. Lovecraft was an unashamed and unapologetic bigot,” Uncle started, with his chest puffed out and his fingers resting behind the lapels of his hot pink Mao suit. It was one of several monologuing stances that he favoured. “And not just to an average degree for his time. Even a lot of his racist friends pulled him up on it, but H.P. kept on being H.P..”
“You want to change the name?” Harry.
“I want to change the name,” Uncle. “Walking around with Lovecraft plastered all over our stuff makes us look like anti-semites. Especially given my stance on Gal Gadot films and, you know, the octopus thing. Not a good look.”
“Would cost a lot to change everything,” Thomas. “And we’re credit-poor right now.”
“.... .. ……… . …… …..,” Quiet.
“A small price to pay for peace of mind,” Uncle.
“What are we changing it to?” the Maid.
“How about Shelob’s Nephews?” Gerald.
“You want us to switch from a massive racist to a moderate racist?” Michelle.
“And wasn’t Shelob a bad guy?” Uncle.
“So was Cthulhu, to be fair,” Thomas.
“She’s an arachnid, at least,” Gerald.
“An octopus is a cephalopod, not an arachnid,” Uncle.
“How about Oponn’s Nephews?” Harry.
“Nobody’s read Malazan,” Thomas. “Stop trying to pop the boys.”
“Oponn is chaos, though,” Harry.
“Wrong,” Uncle. “Oppon is chance and luck, which can be manipulated. Shadowthrone, maybe. But feels more Konchu.”
“How about…” NOE-I started. She stood to her feet, as if about to stun them all with her suggestion. “... The Nephews.”
The rest of them groaned in unison.
“Dull,” Harry.
“Awful,” Thomas.
“I’m sorry, NOE-I,” Uncle. “But that is remarkably dull. And awful. Excellent choice of adjectives, Harry and Thomas. Let’s agree to agree in principle, brainstorm, and then regroup. Brainstorming is a wild ride with nine brains.”
“What’s this about us being credit-poor?” Michelle. “Why do we need credit?”
“Not credit like you mean credit, back on Earth,” Thomas. “Credit as in galactic credits. The universe’s currency. We have a lot tied up in investments and projects.”
“How much do we have, exactly?” Harry.
“Difficult to say whilst the A.I. is down,” Uncle. “I’ll check when the strike is over. But not enough to embark on any big adventures right now. Thus explaining the limited scale of this caper.”
“And the need to pilfer resources from a pair of farmers,” Gerald. “You know, with the shady shit we routinely get into, maybe Lovecraft is perfect for us.”
The uproar that followed in reaction prompted the Daredevil to fall silent. He brooded on his misgivings as Uncle went on.
“If Gerald can abstain from hurling insults at his best friends for the afternoon,” he began. “He and Michelle will spend this afternoon in the company of our host. I want to know more about this mother. Even if we don’t know who she is, I feel that she is something. And I’m hesitant to start drilling without knowing a little more about whoever is in Minami and her uncle’s corner. But we can prepare, of course! The Maid will take Kha’’rina and NOE-I to the southern area to start the search for suitable drilling spots. Blazed and Depressed will prepare the ship for tomorrow’s departure.”
“And what about the A-Team?” Harry.
“Don’t call us that,” Uncle. “There is no A-Team.”
“There definitely was an A-Team,” Thomas.
“. …. …. ….,” Quiet.
“Wrap up, gentlemen,” Uncle. “We’re going north.”
The Connection were due to meet Minami for a walk through the deserted city in the afternoon, and - whilst Michelle intermittently read and slept on the beach - Gerald said his goodbyes to each of the departing units. Whilst doing so, he took the opportunity to ask a cross-section of them what they would do on the rainbow bridge to Back in Business, if - by some chance of fate - they were his tag team partner instead of Michelle. Research, maybe.
“You mean, like, if she died?” Harry asked, perplexed, as he found his thickest jacket in his quarters aboard the Octopi.
“She doesn’t have to die,” Gerald replied, whilst sitting awkwardly on the end of the young wizard’s bed. “Just, out of action. You have to step in.”
“And Russnow just allows that?” Harry said, with a scoff. “Unlikely.”
“Okay, she’s dead,” Gerald.
“Pretty sick hypothetical,” Harry. “But I’ll play. Okay, if she’s dead, I guess I’m going on a big tribute run. Do more than just the busaiku. I guess I’d rip-off her entire moveset: 450, Psycho Driver, Burning Hammer… all that good shit. And all of our matches would have to be battle royales. You know she’s undefeated in battle royales, right? Taught me a thing or two about them, too. Michelle’s great. Shame she died.”
“Good talk, Harry.”
“Well, we’d have to only defend them in CDW, of course,” Thomas answered. Gerald was helping him cart the A-Team’s gear to a pair of Octo-Pods in the lower bay. “And to be honest, you’d probably have to vacate the titles if she died.”
“She doesn’t have to be dead,” Gerald replied. “Just unable to defend the belts.”
“You said that she was dead,” Thomas.
“I thought the hypothetical would be easier to imagine that way,” Gerald.
“That’s pretty sick, GiGi.”
“If anything, I don’t think she’s defending the belts enough,” Uncle declared, as he traded his Mao suit for a more casual tracksuit and a thick, faux-fur winter coat. “Why not two defences every week? Three, even! Can you imagine the screentime?! The old purists would burst a blood vessel. The Welsh[039][040] would tune out en masse. We should pitch this to Michelle.”
“I don’t think my heart would really be in it,” Blazed said. He offered the bong to Gerald, who anxiously shook his head. Depressed took it instead. “Not with the channel really picking up steam. We passed five hundred subscribers last week. Our episode on Midnight Saunter[041] really caused a stir. Got a certificate. Not from YouTube. Uncle printed it out. Still…”
“Why would I want your tag championships? Did you not hear about the trios titles?”
“Why would I want your tag championships? Did you not hear about the trios titles?”
“Why would I want your tag championships? Did you not hear about the trios titles?”
“Are you ready?” Michelle asked. Gerald was watching the Maid’s DreadnOct take off and head in a southerly trajectory towards the chaotic oceans that raged there. She thought he looked sad. Conflicted, maybe. He nodded his head.
“I’m ready,” he said.

Chapter Four: Down at the Dinghy.

The three of them stood atop the tallest of the circle of peaks, staring out into the storm.
Gerald was terrified. He’d seen storms before, of course. But nothing on this scale, both in terms of the vastness and ferocity. Black clouds swarmed and shifted and swelled overhead, intermittently expelling bolts of lightning over the arid, barren landscape and the chaotic, purple ocean. Hard rain, crystallised by the pressure in the upper atmosphere, fell in sheets and gathered in large basin desserts. What few smatterings of forestry that there was were ravaged by wildfires that devoured everything in their path. Real end of days stuff. He watched the chaos unfold and shivered. He wasn’t cut out for such drastic and prophetic sights.
Michelle was less moved in an outward sense. Her reflections were more internalised. Storms were commonplace for Dreamer. Indeed, by this stage they almost seemed to follow her around. She wore the black clouds as a cloak, carrying the rain and the thunder and the lightning with her wherever she went.
Minami had been raised to not be afraid of nature. Such a fear was pointless. The storm simply was, much like the ocean or the mountain or the planet itself.
“Really is something, right?” Minami said.
“That it is,” Gerald agreed. “You’ve been here all of your life?”
“All my life,” Minami repeated.
“Then you’ve never known anything else?” Gerald asked. The young woman nodded. Even in the face of this bleak disaster of a horizon, she still wore her sunglasses.
“Only what I’ve seen,” she said. “Only what I’ve been shown.”
“You’ve never dreamed of anything else?” he asked. Michelle was growing bored by what she saw as an inane line of questioning. Gerald ignored her impatient body language. Uncle had assigned them a task and he meant to carry it out. He saw it as part of the Nephew contract. “Of travelling? It’s a big universe out there.”
“Well, I guess that question has quite a long answer,” Minami began. They never got to hear it, though. Michelle cut her off at the pass at the earliest opportunity.
“I guess you’re not entirely alone,” Dreamer interrupted. “You have your uncle. And your mother, allegedly. Wherever she is.”
Minami fell silent. The smile on her face seemed more fixed and less sincere. Gerald elbowed Michelle in the ribs. She felt he was beginning to take too many liberties. Her eyes warned him that this would be his last free shot.
“If you’ll excuse us for a moment,” Gerald said. A moment and a half later, the Connection were standing just out of the other’s earshot. Not that she had ears. Don’t ask what her sunglasses were resting on. “What do you think you are doing?”
“I’m doing what Uncle asked us to do,” she said, with a casual shrug. “Find out about the girl’s mother. That’s why we’re here, right?”
“I had a plan,” Gerald replied. His exasperation increased with each uttered word. “And you are stepping all over it.”
“Your plan is smalltalk,” Michelle countered. “Boring plan. Won’t work.”
“We have to gain her trust first,” Gerald said. “Show her that we’re not just here to take advantage of her and the planet.”
“Which is what we actually are here to do,” Michelle. “That’s pretty manipulative of you. I thought you were meant to be the good guy?”
“Just let me do the talking, okay?” Gerald.
“Sounds like another strong plan,” Michelle.
As they reapproached, Minami took one last wistful glance at the storms raging outside of their enclosure. She turned towards her guests.
“We should get back to the city,” she said. “It gets worse after suns’ set. Not safe up here.”
The funicular descended the sheer slope of the mountain at something of an alarming pace. Michelle gripped the side of her seat, finding the ordeal a little too similar to the sensation of landing in an aircraft to be truly comfortable. Gerald noticed her struggle and took up the conversational mantle.
“Regardless of my partner’s lack of tact,” he began, taking just a little advantage of the fact that Michelle was currently otherwise indisposed. “We really would like to meet your mother, if we could. Before we have to leave.”
“You just did,” Minami said. “I used to love standing on her shoulders when I was a little girl. Still do now. There’s no greater feeling in all of your big universe, I’m sure. I hope that you enjoyed it, too.”
The girl would say no more for the rest of the journey. Gerald and Michelle followed suit, watching the world go by out of the carriage window.
They made it back to the beach before the suns disappeared over the mountains. As they approached, they found Uncle J.J. JAY! pacing back and forth in front of one of the chiral heaters, a dozen-ish Nephews sprawled around him in various states of engagement. Thomas, Harry, and Quiet seemed most interested in what the COSMIC HORROR had to say. Michelle surmised that this is why they were the A-Team.
“I can’t believe I’m even thinking of calling the whole thing off,” Uncle said. “Whole oceans of vuluvium[#42] under my feet, just waiting to be tapped… and I’m scared of the spectre of an anxious girl’s mother? Ah! GiGi! Dreamer! Tell me you have good news for me!”
“Or any news,” Thomas put in. At that moment, OBB approached the cool-box and collected a Pabst Blue Ribbon. He threw a Heineken to Michelle and a groppos juice[043] to Gerald. Both nodded their thanks.
“Not a lot,” Gerald said. “Mostly riddles.”
“I think she said her mother was the mountain,” Michelle elaborated. She pointed with her bottle to the tallest peak, upon which she and Gerald had stood a handful of hours prior.
“Unconfirmed,” Gerald added.
“Well, that doesn’t really help us at all,” Uncle said. “A mountain? I don’t want to fuck with a mountain.”
“I think it’s just a metaphor,” Michelle. “I don’t think her mother is actually a mountain. Let alone that specific one. We shouldn’t be frightened off by a pair of farmers and an old wive’s tale.”
“I don’t think draining yet another planet of its resources is probably the best course of action, either,” Gerald.
“There’s that good guy spirit,” Michelle.
“Usually, I’d agree with Gerald,” Uncle.
“No you wouldn’t,” Harry.
“... … …,” Quiet.
“If you would please let me finish,” Uncle. “Usually, I’d agree. But look around you. You saw this place on the way in. You can hear the storms even from here, in this tiny oasis. There’s a reason the whole population up and left last week. This place is barely inhabitable, and if we don’t drill the old girl, someone else will.”
“That should be our motto,” Gerald, with a roll of his eyes. He seemed sullen and abstracted.
“Enough of the snark,” Uncle. “I can’t abide snark.”
That night, for once, Michelle wasn’t the last to fall asleep. Gerald outlasted her. When she finally did drop off, she found herself submerged in the ocean once again. She was here most nights now. But the shadow was closer this time. Its tentacles groped and probed, and as she kicked harder to swim away its clutch grew tighter. Thick tendrils wrapped around her arms and legs and poured into her mouth. She was smothered by the leviathan. A thick, pink ink blinded her, filled her nostrils, choked her. She was dying. Finally dying.
Gerald couldn’t sleep. He didn’t like any of it. He decided to take a ride, because what else was there to do?
The Kawasaki Ninja powered through the desert wasteland of _____, dirt and sand kicked up from the surface of the planet by the heavy rear tire of his motorcycle. To his left, the mountains that sheltered the city from the constant storms loomed ominously, a stark reminder that he was on the wrong side of them. To the right was the ocean, a constant victim of the endless barrage of the elements. Lightning struck the surface of the water in dozens of places at once, the resulting display of fireworks as mesmerising as it was terrifying. Huge, angry tornadoes gathered beneath the black clouds and rolled across the water’s face. A constant thunder rumbled in on the back of the waves.
As he turned the throttle of his motorbike, gaining confidence and speed despite the storms raging around him, he couldn’t help but think of life back on Earth. Perhaps it was this most alien of settings, chaotic and foreboding and violent, that brought to mind the mundanity of the family, friends, and job that he’d left behind. It was this last point, mostly. The circus, Michelle called it. It was difficult to know for sure if this term referred to her life in general or the FWA specifically. It was fitting in both contexts. With each passing week, the escapades that Michelle led him and the rest of the Nephews through grew closer and closer to a clown show. He’d done all he could to wipe the make-up from her face. But her decisions were her own.
That Dreamer should wish to turn this comedy into a tragedy of sorts, with her own demise as the dramatic crescendo, was fitting for the woman that he had come to know. She’d always tended towards the macabre. He only lamented that he was being dragged into it. She must have been aware of how much this current run meant to him. It wasn’t just wearing the gold, it was wearing it with her. They had the pink tracksuit, but those belts had developed into a uniform all of their own. One that belonged to just the two of them.
The days were passing quickly, and they were spending all of their time thinking about the wrong Snowmantashi. He sighed, shook his head, and turned the throttle more.
On _____, the mountains to his left drew back and he drove onto rocky, uneven terrain that forced him to slow down. Ahead of him was a massive crater, the lip of which reared up like a stone wall, as if the rock had been driven up into this strange formation by some anonymous and ancient impact. Progress became more difficult as the terrain became rockier until, eventually, he found a road. It was well-kept and level and led straight to the crater. At the end of the road he found a gap in the formation’s wall, and carved into the side of this huge pockmark - descending into the depths of the basin - was a set of stone steps.
In the middle of the crater, around a hundred metres away from him and maybe a third of that deep, was a tall, black monolith. Even from this distance, Gerald could feel the hum emanating from it. It seemed to echo through him.
He told himself that he shouldn’t disturb anything before Uncle had a chance to survey the crater, but on the ride back to the Octopi he admonished himself for cowardice. Once for turning away from the monolith without much thought given to inspecting it more closely, and once for the conversation with Michelle he’d delayed until tomorrow.
Uncle was breathing heavily and covered in mud when Gerald returned to camp. He told him about the monolith, ignoring the various questions about what the COSMIC HORROR had been up to in the hours that he’d been away.
“You can remember where it is?” Uncle asked. Gerald nodded his head. “We’ll go in the morning. I have to sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“What have you been doing?” Gerald replied, his eyes involuntary narrowing.
“I hope you like fireworks.”

Chapter Five: A Perfect Day for Bananafish.

“Then we came back here to the beach, and I called this meeting,” Uncle finished, having just told them the story of his and Gerald’s early morning ride to the crater to examine the Daredevil’s discovery. Much of his monologue, delivered over a long and hearty breakfast, concerned the bumpy ride through the desert at suns’ rise. JAY! had seemingly proved a difficult passenger, judging by the way Gerald shuffled awkwardly as the COSMIC HORROR recounted this part of the story.
“I know I went with you,” Gerald started. “But I’m still not sure what this all means. Now there are two monoliths? You think they’re the only ones?”
“Unlikely,” Thomas interjected. The look on Uncle’s face suggested that he agreed.
“..... …….. …. ………,” Quiet added, thoughtfully.
“Something to do with Minami, maybe?” Gerald asked. Many of the other Nephews began muttering, suggesting they harboured similar suspicions. “You think she knew it was there?”
“I don’t think so,” Uncle answered, slowly and after much reflection. “The girl doesn’t seem to know much of anything.”
“What about the signal from the moon?” Michelle joined in with Gerald’s enquiries. He was pleased to find her at his side, an arrangement that was all too infrequently upheld these days. “And the exodus?”
“I think these events are more likely to be linked,” Uncle surmised. “Especially the signal from the moonolith.”
“The moonolith?” Harry, with his eyebrow cocked.
“Just trying it out,” Uncle. “And I’m more sure than ever that the transmission from the moon was a signal. Probably telling whoever was here to get away from here. And everyone except Minami and her Uncle Iztek heeded the call.”
“Don’t forget us,” Gerald, nervously. “Maybe we should get away, too?”
“No, not yet,” Uncle, sharply. “Michelle was right. We’ve come too far, and we can’t show weakness. I won’t leave _____ until I’ve had my way with it, mark my words!”
“I’m not sure that’s exactly what I was arguing for,” Michelle.
“Regardless, that’s the plan,” Uncle, resolute and firm. “And I need us all on the same page. One unit, one mind. No Yuff-Yuff Yl-Yarlson IV stuff, please. Focus!”
“You know Yuff-Yuff Yl-Yarlson IV?” Gerald asked. His exasperation was surprising to the rest of the party. The name was familiar to him through repeated use of his Expo–842_8 device, which he now gripped at his side during the morning meeting.
“Of course I do!” Uncle exclaimed in response, as he shovelled the last of his toast with groppos marmalade into his wide, greedy mouth. “He’s a Nephew. Got himself in a spot of bother recently though, from what I gather[044].”
“Who on Earth is Yuff-Yuff Yl-Yarlson IV?” Michelle asked. Her bewilderment was shared by several others in the crew.
“He’s been a lot of places, but Earth isn’t one of them,” Uncle. “Maybe I’m mistaken. Difficult to keep track. But anyway, are you ready to leave?”
The COSMIC HORROR rose from the sofa and collected his jacket from its arm.
“Oh, and Gerald?” he said, gathering the Daredevil’s attention as he pushed his arms through the sleeves. “Give me that…”
Before Gerald had an opportunity to protest, Uncle took the Expo-842_8 device from his hands and hurled it into the purple lake. It plunged through the surface of the water and disappeared into the deep. The Daredevil took a step towards the lake’s lip, almost as if he was preparing to dive in after it. He’d become fond of the device. Dependent on it, almost. He turned towards JAY! with an expression somewhere between confusion and anguish.
“I’m afraid you were spending too much of your time staring into that little screen,” Uncle said. “Sure, it was handy not to have to answer all of your questions, but at what cost? I need you to be in the moment for the grand finale…”
That came less than a standard cosmic hour later, when Uncle arrived with a large mass of Nephews at his back. Gerald and Michelle stood to his right and left respectively, and then behind them a dozen or so others crowded in more of a rabble than a formation. Minami and her uncle didn’t appear intimidated or threatened. They emerged from their house in the foothills and greeted the party with a smile. It wasn’t warm but it was there.
“We’ve decided to leave,” Uncle announced, by way of an opening gambit. Most of the Nephews suppressed their reaction, or concluded that this was part of the COSMIC HORROR’s ruse. Gerald didn’t manage either, turning towards JAY! with his eyebrows raised.
“We have?” he asked. Minami snickered at the dissent.
“We have,” Uncle repeated. “But not until we find out who your mother is.”
Minami continued to smile. She looked from Uncle to Gerald and seemed to find the boy lacking. She rolled her eyes and then moved onto Michelle. The unwavering eye contact almost caused Dreamer to yield, but she stood up in the face of the dworlish girl’s stern and searching gaze. Only now did Michelle realise that Minami wasn’t wearing her sunglasses.
“Why do you believe you have a right to this information?” she asked, finally.
“No right,” Uncle answered, quickly. “Just an inclination. A thirst for knowledge, if you will.”
“Not all itches are meant to be scratched,” Minami.
“I see you haven’t met Uncle,” Harry.
“I have already told you,” Minami said, slowly but with confidence and clarity. She glanced over at the tallest mountain in the encircling range as she continued. “My mother watches over us, even now.”
“Yes, I heard the story,” Uncle replied, with a dismissive scoff. “But I don’t buy it. A little thin. You know, all that I’ve seen from you since we arrived here on _____ is sneakiness. Sneakiness and secrecy.”
“Right now,” she answered, as deliberately as ever. “Sneakiness and secrecy are my only allies.”
“Cute friends,” Uncle said. “They have their place. But, generally speaking, I prefer shock and awe…”
With that, he pointed towards the mountain and formed his hand into a finger-gun. After a delicate squeeze of the invisible trigger, a distant rumbling bit down hard on the crust of the Earth itself. The mountain, proud and huge and old and eternal, and most of all massive, began to vibrate.
Minami took a hesitant step towards it. She reached out with a hand, her arm too short and her voice too timid.
“Mother…”
With a roar that threatened to overwhelm their eardrums (or whatever aural receptors they had in place of them), the mountain first caved in on itself and then burst apart. Huge fissures formed in its body and colossal asteroids were sent high into the air in a thousand contrasting directions. Some of the more timid in the party (Blazed and Depressed, mostly) thought about scarpering, but the manner in which Uncle remained steadfast, his gaze directed at the two dworls in front of him, reassured them. The COSMIC HORROR’s calculations rarely went astray.
Only Gerald, who’d seen Uncle return muddied and exhausted from the hills in the early early hours of that morning, was unsurprised. He knew that JAY! was up to something. Admittedly, he hadn’t expected that ‘something’ to be quite so drastic, but with Uncle it was invariably better to expect the unexpected. The Daredevil continued to gaze at Uncle, unmoving, watching Minami and Iztek’s horrified reactions with a sense of boundless pride.
JAY! only faltered a few seconds later, when the rumbling didn’t stop.
Eventually, Uncle turned towards the mountains and noticed that the three peaks closest to the epicentre of the initial blast were succumbing to the shockwave. New meteors were spat out and hurled into the atmosphere, their trajectories more of a mystery and prompting greater levels of panic in the COSMIC HORROR’s countenance. I said his calculations rarely went astray, not never.
“Oh, fuck,” he said, as a particularly large chunk of rock was thrust out from the second tallest peak (which had a remarkably short period as the tallest in the range after the untimely demise of Minami’s mother) in the direction of the Octopi. He, along with the dozen or so Nephews and the two dworls gathered in the assembled city’s central courtyard, watched on powerlessly as it plummeted down to the ground and crushed the ship on impact. The Octopi was not small, but the boulder was at least a hundred times its mass, and now it sat atop of the vessel’s flattened remains as if it had always been there.
“My newts were in there!” Harry cried, with a grief suddenly upon him to match even Minami’s.
“We’ll give them a good send-off,” Uncle promised, with a defiant nod. The avalanche was finally coming to a stop, almost all of the Nephews’ belongings now buried beneath a fresh layer of rubble. “Full Nephew honours.”
JAY! fixed a conciliatory expression upon his face and body language to go with it before turning back to face the city’s two remaining inhabitants. The huge gap in the wall of mountains allowed the elements to pour through, drenching the city in a hard, swirling rain and a howling wind.
“Could we use your phone, maybe?” Uncle asked, hopefully. “And then we’ll be on our way.”
Neither Minami or Iztek offered the COSMIC HORROR a response. Both turned away from him and marched into their house. The Nephews watched as a blue, protective force-field appeared around their humble family abode. A second covered the granary and a third the library, protecting the city’s two next most valuable assets in its food and its books. With a sigh, Uncle turned to his crew.
“Well, looks like we’ll have to cobble something together back at the beach,” he announced, with his hands on his hips. “Thomas, what have you got in your pockets?”
With the rest of the Nephews leading the way towards their destroyed camp, Michelle and Gerald straggled behind and hugged the lip of the purple lake more closely. The Daredevil, as befitting his name, removed his shoes and walked barefoot in the shallows. Michelle thought him either brave or experiencing a fleeting episode. She wouldn’t trust any water that colour. She didn’t particularly trust it when it was colourless.
“I still think this isn’t over,” Michelle said, as she peered back at the force fields surrounding the city’s three most important buildings. “I think we’re making an enemy here. This isn’t finished.”
“You never think anything is finished,” Gerald replied, the water lapping around his ankles. “That’s sort of the problem.”
“Do you think it’s sensible to just leave them here?” Michelle asked.
“Do you think we should murder her?” Gerald.
“I’m not saying we should murder her,” Michelle, with a shrug that her partner found a little too nonchalant. “Just… maybe we should take her with us.”
“So, kidnap her?” Gerald. “No wonder you fit in so well around here.”
The others were just now reaching their destroyed camp. They watched as Uncle, Thomas, Quiet, and the Maid began to huddle around the combined items that they had on their persons in an attempt to fashion a transmitter. The Connection halted their own progress, Gerald staring out at the distant Porodus with sadness massing over its face. The wind still howled through the gap in the mountains but they were well protected here.
“Did you know this star was dying?” he asked.
“They have another one,” Michelle said, nodding at the second, larger, more distant sun, hovering high above the first.
“That one’s dying, too,” Gerald. “But this one, Porodus, was meant to be already dead by now. But it keeps on going.”
“How do you know all this?” she asked.
“I read it somewhere,” he said. Dreamer had never seen him with a book before but supposed it didn’t really matter.
“Did you think about the other thing?” she asked. He paused. Sighed. His expression suggested he’d thought of little else.
“I don’t think replacing you is a viable option,” he announced, in a matter-of-fact tone that she respected. She admired functionality and pragmatism. “I don’t think we should vacate. And I know that you don’t think we should, either.”
“Then what should we do?” she asked. He sat down on the sand, a few metres from the edge of the lake. Michelle took one more glance back at camp, noticed that OBB wasn’t having much luck finding a beer amongst the rubble, and decided she might as well sit down next to her partner.
“All of this cheating,” he began, before trailing off. She didn’t like the way in which he spat out this fourth word, but he did so with such an earnest sincerity that she couldn’t help but understand his feelings on the subject. Empathy didn’t come easy for Dreamer but the Daredevil had a way of dragging it out of her.
“What about it?” she asked, as softly and as calmly as she was capable of remaining.
“It has brought you wins, but that’s not all it’s brought you,” he said, turning to face her and maintaining his eye contact from here on. “It has warped your perspective, massaging and encouraging a barely-hidden inferiority complex that is now your whole persona. Maybe that’s why you agreed to this retirement match in the first place. I don’t know. But I do know that the Michelle von Horrowitz of 2020, the Dreamer that I first met, wouldn’t be daunted by the task ahead. By the hardest road…”
She thought about this for more than a moment. About the woman she was in 2020. About the one she was now. She stared down into the shallow, purple water as a silver jellyfish drifted past. Gerald took his feet out of the lake.
“You’re right,” she said, eventually. She lamented how often he was.
By the time they reached the camp that was no longer a camp, Uncle and his team of makeshift engineers had joined the rest of the Nephews in lounging amongst the rubble and watching the distant suns’ set. All of them wore large black shades to protect their eyes from the glare, with the exception of OBB, who was busy burrowing through a nearby pile of rocks.
“Success?” Michelle asked.
“Success,” Uncle confirmed. “Micah and the McClones are on their way in Squid #A.”
Dreamer nodded. Gerald took a seat between Marcus and Harry. Finally, after having disturbed the scene’s tranquillity enough with his constant digging, OBB finally had his eureka moment. With a yelp of glee, he yanked a hot pink coolbox from amongst the rubble by its long, plastic handle. He placed it down with a beaming smile on his face, retrieving a Pabst Blue Ribbon for himself, a Heineken for Michelle, and a Tropicana for Gerald. The rest of the Nephews began to help themselves.
“You still think we should see to Minami?” Uncle asked Michelle, when she sat down next to him and flicked open her beer with her lighter. “We can, once Micah gets here.”
Michelle sipped her beer. Lit a cigarette. Stared over at Gerald. The Daredevil was accepting a pair of sunglasses from Harry, placing them over his eyes and watching the suns’ set. She turned back towards Uncle and shook her head.
“Let’s go home,” she said.

​

 

[Rosie]

Click.

Click.

Click.

Lizzie's eyes glazed over one hand holding it up as dark green eyes stared passively at the clicking silver metal balls. Seriously why did all Therapists seem to have those in their offices? She had never seen them for sale in any store; maybe they were sold only in stores that only therapists shopped at? Shrinks R us? What else would they sell there?

"Lizzie? Did you hear what I said?"

Awakening from her stupor, Lizzie suddenly jolted to life as her eyes met the cold blue eyes of her therapist; Lizzie noticed that she always had a tailored pinstripe suit and her jet black hair pulled into a messy bun, a pair of reading glasses dangled upon a chain around her neck. She seemed to favour satin shirts, glimmering silver earrings and elaborate bracelets betraying a comfort of living that simply should not have been sustainable under her presumed salary.

"You were a million miles away just now...what were you thinking of?"

Something told Lizzie that the answer "Clicking balls" would open up a discussion that Lizzie was absolutely not willing to have

"....just....stuff"

This was about the third of her company-enforced meetings with Doctor Raven Crowfoot, and she still wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of opening up with a stranger. The whole vibe felt weird, but due to recent...events...and Lizzie's behaviour, there felt she was on the verge of some kind of mental break and would need to be signed off by a therapist before she could be cleared to wrestle.

Mental breakdown? Lizzie Rose?

Yeah, that's tracked.

Still, Dr Crowfoot was nice enough, even if her office was a little darker than she expected, but it felt comfortable and was tastefully decorated. Lizzie sank slightly more than she'd expected into the large plush chair and once again tried to identify what the office smelled like. There was a dark, musty smell that was almost a little overpowering-not like the patchouli she had vaguely been anticipating. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant, but...odd...she'd have to ask her about it later and how she should not use it during future sessions.

If there were future sessions, that is.

“In any case, I asked, how have you been feeling?"

"Oh, Great! Much better!" Yeah, no, I'm in a really good place."

"You know, you're not a very good liar...."

Lizzie sighed; well, it was worth a shot.

"Look, no offence or anything, but, it is really weird that I'M the one that has to go to therapy because they're worried I'm not in a good place. I stood beside Devin Golden when he was telling everyone that we were all just dreams, which by the way, gave me like...daily existential crises. I've been dealing with those two ETERNAL girls, and I'M the one that has to be in therapy? I mean, ok, I'm not exactly a mountain of zen and peace...and I have big-time phobias of clowns and trains...but my flaws are....quirky more than troublesome, at least, that's what people tell me. I don't know what it means, but it SOUNDS good. ETERNAL, on the other hand-”

"You think they need therapy?"

"I mean, I don't want to judge their jam. If they want to be....you know, spooky and weird, that's their business, but after what they've done to Joe.....I don't know...I don't know what they want from me. I don't know what I've done to them to get their attention, and now I'm meant to team up with them. Against the nephews?"

"They call you 'Elizabeth.'"

Lizzie broke off, slightly befuddled by the abrupt topic change.

"I mean, if ya wanna ask about that, and not...you know the whole "I'm a Disney princess" delusion stuff and whatever the hell is wrong with that other one...then...um....yeah. They do."

"Why does that make you uncomfortable?"

"Because that's not my name."

"Yes, it is. Elizabeth. Isabella. Rose. That's your full name."

"Well, yeah, I mean...It IS my name...but it's not...no one calls me that. It never felt right."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Elizabeth doesn't really suit me, ya know? It feels too...."

Lizzie paused, and her face twisted ever so slightly as she tried to figure out the right word.

"Grand."

The psychologist tilted her head and made a slight "hmm" sound.

"That's an interesting choice of words."

Lizzie realized too late that she had said something of note; she's been doing enough of these to know that when she let something like that slip, there was some kind of deep, uncomfortable truth that she couldn't possibly have conceived of beforehand.

"Do you have issues considering yourself as a powerful person?"

".... power? You mean....like Spiderman?"

"Elizabeth. Isabella, you were named after two of the most famous and influential queens in history; that's the obvious association you seem to be uncomfortable with, an assumption of power that you reject; in your own words, ‘It doesn't suit you.’"

"....oh"

Lizzie didn't know what else to say, so she just kept her head low and squirmed a little on her sofa, tucking a lock of violet-red hair behind her ear. As the therapist watched her impartially.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"I think that's the point of this, isn't it?"

"When's the last time you had a boyfriend?"

"Ummmmm....."

"Girlfriend?"

"Ummmmmm...."

"Let me ask the same question in a different way. When was the last time you did something for you and just you? Take it easy, be selfish. Let your hair down."

"......"

Sighing, the good doctor reached towards a file on her desk, opening it up.

"I'm just going to read some lines from your Wikipedia page, and you can stop me whenever you notice something off. Is that a deal?"

Lizzie furrows her brow, not sure where this is going but settles down a little as Doctor Crowfoot places the glasses on her nose and begins to read.

"At age sixteen, Lizzie dropped out of high school to help support her mother...She would miss out on a college degree because she had to look after her younger siblings... Lizzie Rose's mother refused to speak to her for years after she left to pursue wrestling...."

Lizzie said nothing; she didn't like to think about that aspect of her relationship with her mother.

"I think you have a compulsion to give more of yourself to people than you should. You don't want to do it...you feel you have to because you associate acting in your own self-interest with quite a sizable amount of guilt. So you have to be the caretaker. The big sister. The protective one. Being generous is good to a point, but there comes the point where people are going to take advantage of your compulsions."

Lizzie opened her mouth to say something but couldn't find the words. That tends to happen once someone calmly drops emotional bombshell after bombshell.

"Your mother didn't talk to you until you gave her money, didn't she? A lot of money..."

"....."

"That's why you need to be a success in wrestling, isn't it? To validate yourself. Trust me, that mindset can lead to a lot of self-loathing."

"...Are you going to sign off on me returning to the ring or what?"

The tone in Lizzie's voice took on a much harsher tone than we're used to hearing from her, a cold, sharp edge to her words that seemed just odd to come out from Lizzie Rose. Like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs, the good doctor seemed to have more she wanted to say on the topic but seemed to concede she's touched a nerve and moved on.

"Are you still having those dreams"

The tension in Lizzie's body quickly seemed to die away, and the usual softness in her eyes returned as she coughed suddenly, looking embarrassed and slightly ashamed of her tone before

"Yeah, I had one last night, and it was weird...I mean....weirder..."

"Would you like to talk about it?

Lying on the floor, Lizzie Rose is in a mental daze. Another time she’s felt this. A state of mental fog. Her hair is curly and long, as if it was done up. Blinking, she sits up and finds herself in some sort of… sci-fi uniform. Tight and dress-like, with it going up to her neck with a collar. A light blue with trims of black and silver. On her chest is a stylized “E” logo in silver. Two familiar voices greet her.

“Yay! She’s up!”

The voice is of a woman, very cheerful.

“I knew she would not be able to keep standing from the lift-off.”

The other, another female, is more monotonous. Great. Princess Nova and Keres.

Lizzie begins to get a sense of her surroundings. Looking around, the atmosphere is far different compared to normal. Everything feels high-tech and futuristic. White walls with countless buttons, lights, and machinery visible. Adorned along the walls is the Eternal Name in its usual font with lights trimming the letters along with a clock logo. In any sort of window, Lizzie sees a glimpse of the vast and expansive stars. Galaxies upon galaxies as far as the eye can see. This doesn’t seem real. Is it? Lizzie gets up off the grated floor and looks across at Keres and Princess Nova.

Princess Nova, playing into the space theme, has a silver dress, a purple trim to it on with squared off shoulders. The skirt of the dress darts out in a circle. She has long silver gloves, and tall silver high-heeled shoes. On her head is a tiara with little “alien” antennae.

Keres, not missing out on the out of this world theme, has on a black leather coat that stops just below her knees. It is open and shows an equally black top with reflective chest armor on it. Her pants are combined with her footwear, skin-tight, and also made of leather. On her hands are gloves made of black feathers, the same which can also be seen pointing straight out from the collar of her leather coat.

“So, how was the sleep, sleepy-head?” Princess Nova asks and Lizzie Rose cuts a pissed off glare. She is frustrated after months and months of Eternal torture, after saying they were DONE with her, no. More is coming.

“Look...can we just....NOT.....This time!”

Lizzie shouts, getting in the faces of Keres and Nova.

“I get it, I'm terrible, I'm awful. And you're really great. I really don't need you guys to literally beat me over the head with your elaborate and admittedly really well put together delusions. I get it. Violence equals good. Not being a violent sociopath is bad. Gotcha! Message has been received LOUD AND CLEAR! So, instead of wrestling in...let me guess, space age wrestling or whatever, I'm just going to cut to the chase and fling myself out the airlock because I'm positive the vacuum of space is going to be a lot more fun than being around you two!”

Lizzie gives some sarcasm. “Unless, that's part of it right? ‘Oh Lizzie, flinging yourself into the unknown means you can embrace it and therefore you pass the super spooky ETERNAL test…’ Is that it huh?! WHAT IS IT NOW!? What crazy mind hocus pocus are you going to do now!? Huh!?”

Keres and Nova look back and forth, undeterred by Lizzie’s frustrated rant. Nova still has her grin on while Keres keeps looking, plain forward.

“Why would we hurt a member of our team?” Keres asks plainly, and Lizzie stops, surprised.

“E-excuse me?”

“Why would we harm an ally?” Keres asks.

“Then how does that explain the past several MONTHS!?” Lizzie snaps back. The bubbly happy and somewhat dopey Lizzie Rose, she’s not here right now. She has no reason to be here.

“Come.” Keres motions. “To the command center of the Starship Eternal. We’ll explain.”

Keres and Princess Nova walk down the hall to the front of their ship. Lizzie Rose steps slowly, following behind, but staying on her toes. One mis-step, and she is OUT of here. Getting to the end, we see three seats, one for each of them, all with comfortable cushions. In front is a board filled with screens and buttons. From their spots, they can see where the ship is heading.

“Take your seat, Elizabeth…” Keres points to a chair.

“I-uhh… Can you call me Lizzie, for once, please?”

“Now…” There is tension under Keres’ voice and hesitantly, Lizzie sits down. Nothing bad has happened. No cuffs, no traps. Nothing. Princess Nova takes a seat on the opposite chair, crossing her legs like the lady she is, and Keres sits in the middle.

“Sister, can you explain the mission to our dear traveling companion?” Keres turns her head to Nova. She grins and happily explains.

“Powers beyond ourselves have put us on a collision course with a society which thrives in anarchy. They are a group which house a place for those without a home or otherwise have lost a purpose to come together to provide meaning. While we can empathise with what they do for countless others who have lost their way…” Princess Nova shudders. “They go about it in a terrible, terrible way. Rather than by providing order in an already hateful world… They add to its chaos.”

Princess Nova shakes her head.

“You may be familiar with them, Elizabeth-”

“Lizzie, please…” Lizzie pleads again for them to just use her preferred name. “You’re not my mom…”

“-But, Elizabeth sounds so lovely!” Princess Nova smiles. “A lovely name for a lovely friend.”

“-This time, we might make an exception…” Keres speaks up. “We will use ‘Lizzie’ if you wish interchangeably.”

Lizzie sighs with relief, falling back in her chair.

“Nova, please carry on.”

“Okay!” Princess Nova looks out the window of their ship where they see a planet in front of them. It is cloudy and filled with a mix of grey and a glowing pink. “So, we might as well use this opportunity for a purpose. They have a base on the planet below, Bakvas Kaka. So, we will go down there to obtain an object of great interest from under their noses.”

“And what’s that?” Lizzie tries to get further information.

“It’s a key to the future…” Keres takes on the explanation. “Truthfully, looking at the landscape, we know that our paths were bound to cross eventually. So many have waited until nuclear intervention was necessary to kill these roaches… when a simple, forceful, boot is all it takes to crush a lingering pest.”

Keres turns to their passenger. “Sometimes it becomes a requirement to be proactive. Get a step forward on something before it becomes a problem. Though their eyes are on something which we have no interest in, for the time being, we will use this chance to strike.”

“And why on earth do you need me?” Asking again, Lizzie looks to Keres and Nova. “I told you, I’m not-”

“Be not afraid…” Reaching over, Keres gently puts her hand on Lizzie’s. Despite the Daughter of Demise’s usual coldness, there is a bit of warmth in this action. “We would not harm you in our care. This is a three person mission. Something a trio is required to do. We’ve seen enough of you to know something about you-”

Princess Nova gets up from her chair and hugs Lizzie. “You’re something special!” She brims with warmth. “We know you’ve been having your fair share of struggles recently- some of which we had our part in, but if we didn’t trust you’d persevere, we would not have tried!”

“Precisely. You are strong and you are capable. I dare not put the fate of something so grand on the shoulders of someone weak. I believe in the rose.”

Keres, in a rare moment, shows a small smile. “And truthfully, we would not be able to do this mission without you.”

Lizzie looks at Princess Nova and Keres. The two who have tormented her for months. These women are mad, but there is something different about them now. Maybe it is because they have worn her down, but there is something different here. Genuine. Even if their intentions are not as pure as they present, there might be something else she can gain from this, an understanding of how these two work.

“Okay… I’ll help.” Lizzie raises her finger, stressing… “THIS TIME…”

“Aww…” Nova is practically floating with joy. “I knew you’d come around! This is going to be so fun!”

Keres looks forward, pressing buttons to steer the ship. “Then Eliz-” She stops herself, “Lizzie. Let us not waste another moment…”

The three get in their seats and the ship begins to move forward. Its nose points to the planet as the three unlikely allies make a descent.

Approaching the planet below, the rocks of the surface have a pink layer of dirt on them with grey rock formations along the mountainscape. On the rocks is a light blue glow from gems, shining under the starry night sky. The ship lands behind a pair of rocks, trying to keep out of view. The trio exit their ship and hide behind a large rock, keeping hidden. Looking in the distance is a metal and glass base. It is shaped like an Octopus with 8 different “corridors” leading to a large central building. The lights of it glow pink.

“This is our target. That base in the distance.” Keres points forward. “The one shaped like a cephalopod.”

Lizzie looks off in the distance… Yep, she knows EXACTLY what people use that imagery.

“Dear god, no… They’re everywhere.” She mutters to herself as they see, marching from it are an army of its residents, lead by a man in an Octopus mask, holding a large sceptre.

“Fuck…” She mutters to herself. In view, they see the army of troopers. All of them have matching tracksuits and space helmets all shaped like an Octopus.

“Is that person their leader?” Princess Nova asks.

“Uncle J.J. Jay? No… It’s complicated…” Lizzie sighs…

“We figured you have more familiarity with these people-” Keres is cut off from Lizzie frustratedly muttering.

“The Nephews.” Lizzie groans. “The FREAKING Nephews.”

Lizzie buries her face in her hands. Princess Nova pats her on the back.

“These, uhh, Nephews.” Princess Nova looks on at their tracksuits. “They are SO tacky… So unkempt. I thought they were a dangerous group, not rejects from an athletic team.”

“And the imagery…” Keres looks at the countless Octopus imagery being used. “This Lovecraftian nonsense.”

“Lovecraftian Fashion horror…” Princess Nova says with disgust.

“-It is so simple in its execution. Elementary in its complexity. Abhorrent in its insanity. It is like overhyped children’s literature… More akin to a ‘Series of Unfortunate Events’.”

Leaning against the rock, Lizzie looks at the group of Nephews marching along. They don’t appear to notice the team, nor care about them.

“I’ll admit. They are a lot to try to wrap your head around if you haven’t dealt with them for the past, how long… three years? I lost track at this point.” Lizzie looks at Princess Nova and Keres. “They make your TORN stuff seem tame.”

“You will understand us with time.” Nova smiles. “We’re just a bit misunderstood, is all.”

"Their world is a disorganised madness…” Keres comments before looking at Lizzie. “Lizzie.” She uses her preferred name to keep her in their good graces. “Care to describe them for us?”

"I don't know man. The nephews are… the nephews, you know? They're kind of like you guys only… stupid. They're like piranhas. They're fine if you stay away from them, but if you get in the water- They’re vicious.”

Lizzie shrugs as if it doesn't need to be said

"They're really...REALLY dumb but fighting them is like fighting an army, or like one of those what’cha call them...Hydras? You cut off one head and six more grow in its place. You try to focus on one Nephew, two more jump you from behind. You try to deal with those two? Another FOUR jump you. It's impossible to plan for them, because like it or not, they're a unit, y'know? They got each other's back, there's no ego between them, they don't have any selfish motives. They just want to WIN at any cost, and it works too. Look at what happened to The Connection, they have the nephews behind them and it's impossible to beat them. I don't even know which ones we're going to face....Shark...dude? Space...maid? I guess the only way to beat those numbers and focus is total trust that we got each other's back.....”

Lizzie Rose sighs. “So I guess what I'm saying is...we're kind of screwed....Which kind of works out great for me...possibly...because the less I have to do with you guys the better.”


“I believe working with us is a far more- pleasurable experience than you’d imagine.” Princess Nova smiles. “Because we care.”

Looking towards the base, Keres thinks before turning her attention to Nova.

“Sister…” The Daughter of Demise raises her fingers before-

Snapping.

Princess Nova perks up, smiling and curtseying to Keres.

“What could I do for you?” She practically sings while asking.

“Go look for a secret entrance of some kind. Anything.”

“You do not need to ask twice. I am on it.” Nova gives Keres a hug before skipping along towards the base, remaining out of sight of the pre-occupied.

There is an awkward pause as both Keres and Lizzie Rose sit there under some cover, waiting for Nova to come back. Lizzie tries to fill the time.

"...So how do you wake up and decide what shade of black you'll wear?"

The question falls on deaf ears. Lizzie takes a long look at Keres and some anger begins to bubble over the surface.

"Look, I don't know if you're a delusion, a nightmare, or the actual real thing but-whatever you are, whatever this is… Because I'll be honest, I understand practically nothing about you, or what you want with me...but I'll say this-”

Lizzie looks Keres right in her eyes.

"....After I wake up, After I have to team up with you, this week? I'm done with you. Because I can take anything you can dish out, trust me I've spent my life dealing with mud being thrown in my face. I don't take it personally. But what you did to Joe? That I DO take personally. My friends are my friends. And you don't touch them.”

Keres finally responds.

“You are very selfless, Lizzie.” Keres looks at her. “That you have with my sister in spades. Your hearts are filled with love and care. Despite everything you have experienced, you learn to love and trust.”

Keres lightly nods her head. “We admire that about you.”

Lizzie blinks. A weird moment of praise from her. No TORN magic. Nothing. But-

“Hold up? Me and the Princess? Similar?”

“I found something!” Princess Nova shouts as she comes back.

“Quiet, Princess…” Keres glares at her sister.

“Sorry, but nobody is here. A lot of those Nephews left. But I found an opening which leads to some vents. We can go from there.”

Keres and Lizzie exchange glances. Then Keres picks up two weapons they left on the ground. One is a pistol. It has an “E” on it in fancy writing along with a purple glow to it. The other a futuristic sci-fi sword. Its colours match the pistol. She hands the pistol to Nova and the blade to Lizzie.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Keres asks.

“Let’s make some wasabi!” Nova grabs her pistol and jumps with joy.

The trio head towards the base onto the next step of their adventure.

Dropping in from a vent, the three travellers head into hallways deep under the base. The halls are a BLINDING pink with lights, salmon coloured floors and gray pipes providing the only non-eyesore of a design. Despite being in heels, Nova lands comfortably along with Keres while Lizzie falls on her butt.

“Oww…” Lizzie gets up, making sure there isn’t a bruise on her backside, as the three look around. “So, where are we go-”

Keres raises her hand, interrupting their unlikely travelling partner. She carefully steps, looking down the hall as it splits into two paths. One forward, the other a turn. Listening, Keres is hyper focused. Lizzie, creeped out, waves her hand in front of Keres’ eyes.

“You okay-”

“Shh.” Keres shushes Lizzie.

“We will split up.” Keres looks at Princess Nova and Lizzie. “Sister, you go with our new… friend, I can handle things on my own.”

“Of course, Keres.” Nova grins as Lizzie Rose blinks.

“F-Friend?”

Keres heads down the hallway, not turning back. Leaving Keres and Princess Nova to make a turn, heading down the other hallway. Once again, another moment of odd silence as Princess Nova, her mind in her own world, simply walks along with a huge smile. Lizzie blinks, and once again tries to fill the time.

"Can we....just stop this whole "Princess" thing? Like drop the act? It's creepy, because you're not a princess. You're not a Disney princess…”

Princess Nova turns her head to Lizzie. She hums.

“You're a person...Because let me put it like this...if you ARE a princess? Then Disney is SUPER messed up!”

“I hardly consider it an act at this point.” Nova calmly responds. “It was the title given to me by Keres’ parents. It is one I wear with honour. I’ll explain. Just walk with me.”

Princess takes a few steps forward. Lizzie hesitantly follows and listens.

“Years ago, I was in a spot in which I suppressed a lot of emotions and feelings. I wore a fake smile and lived life by a ‘motto’ to keep things bright, colourful, and make things rock. To keep things positive despite everything.”

“I can get behind that.” Lizzie chimes in. “But what changed?”

“Well, over time a lot of things began to eat away at me. Slate and Eden, Keres’ parents, knew that, so they tried to bring my attention to them. I was ignoring my actual feelings. Then- I was given a chance to stand by their side and-”

“And you got brainwashed.” Lizzie interrupts. Princess Nova laughs, though this is far less jovial than usual.

“No.”

“Come on! You walk around like a Disney reject. Keres ‘snaps’ her fingers and you just go to her like some robot. It’s got to be some brainwashing or magic something! You’re delusional! You-”

“I joined willingly-” Princess Nova responds and Lizzie stops.

“You what now?”

Nova says it again, slowly.

“I… Joined… Willingly. I let them change me. I opened my ears to them and saw them as flawed people, woven together by a TORN fate. They wanted love. I once lived life as a model before wrestling, but once I wore the dress and tiara of Princess Nova…” There’s a smile on Nova’s face. Though, this one, unlike before, seems genuine. “I felt happy. I felt pretty. I had stuck myself out for others. Friends, cousins, family. But I never really got anything in return. Being with the Bassignani family I finally felt it returned. So, they let me indulge.”

“But that’s Keres’ parents. Why do you listen to Keres?” Lizzie asks.

“It was part of the reason why they extended an invitation. They needed someone to take care of their young daughter as an older sister figure. I- I never had a sibling and I felt so fulfilled. I grew close to her and she grew close to me. Making her day brighter made mine too. I knew one day, when the time was right, I’d stand by Keres' side. I got to see her grow into the powerful person she is and now the day is here. So, we’re different, but we have that connection. We do care about each other. And not everyone will understand, but I’ve accepted that and I’m happier for it.”

Lizzie looks to the side. Being selfless to the detriment of herself? Just like what Keres said… Are they actually similar? Nova notices her silence.

“Is everything okay, Lizzie?”

Nova uses her preferred name again. Lizzie glances over at Nova and while she could punch her in the face for EVERYTHING she and Keres has put her through, after she opened her heart to her, probably something she rarely does, she can’t.

“-I get it.” She responds. “As an older sibling I get how great that feeling can be. So I guess you’re not as insane as you lead yourself on.”

“Hehe, thank you.” Nova blushes.

“But don’t get it twisted…” Lizzie looks at Nova.

“We are NOT the sa-”

INTRUDER

INTRUDER

Noise interrupts their conversation from down the hall as an alarm blares out. Nova and Lizzie exchange looks. Keres. Something happened. Both of them grab their weapons before rushing down the hall where they can hear the sound of people being slammed against the wall. They come rushing around the corner to see-

Keres standing over the battered and bruised bodies of several Nephews, all in their tracksuits, on the floor, knocked out. Keres looks as though she hasn’t even broken a sweat. Lizzie looks shocked as Nova just smiles. The Daughter of Demise dusts herself off.

“Cute…” She says coldly. “They made me use just a fraction of my power. I almost blinked…”

“-I am scared to see what you are at max power…”

Lizzie Rose is just surprised. Speechless. Princess Nova looks over towards Keres.

“Sister, any idea where they are hiding what we are after?”

Keres looks down the end of the corridor.

“Down there, take a right.” She motions with her hands. “Nova, Elizabeth, come.”

Princess Nova follows her sister while Lizzie waits a moment. Part of her wants to correct Keres again to get her to say ‘Lizzie,’ but considering her apparent strength, is it really worth it to get in an argument about it? She joins them heading down the hall.

Eventually, the three reach what appears to be their destination. An Octogonal-shaped door with a sensor shaped like a hand in the front. The emblem above it is an Octopus.

“That looks like a special vault if I’ve ever seen one.” Princess Nova claps.

Lizzie examines it for some time, curious about it. What do they have this for? What is behind it? Looking at the scanner, she looks at her hand and sees it is the right size for it.

“What are you waiting for? Open it.” Keres says, startling Lizzie.

“Me?”

“Only you can open it, Lizzie…” Keres points to Lizzie’s hand. “It’s fate. You’re a missing piece of the puzzle. But be warned, I sense something behind that door…”

Taking a long time to look at her hand, Lizzie examines the door.

“Be not afraid, my friend.” Keres puts her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “We have your best interests at heart. We’ll protect you just as you will protect us…”

With some reassurance from Keres, Lizzie places her hand on the scanner. A blue light runs along her hand before the door unlocks, opening slowly. Smoke and steam shoot from the sides of the door as they creak open. Princess Nova pulls Lizzie back for safety. Once the smoke clears, we see three women in the matching track suits of the Nephews. The first woman, an African American, has space blue hair. The second, even through the tracksuit, you can see a more muscular build. Her hair is short, slicked back. The third has a more alien appearance, white skin with black markings on her face. One of them is about to speak up, but instead, Keres interrupts.

“You do not need to say a word. I know who you three are. ÑŒ-I, the ‘Maid of Death,’ and Kha''rina. Three young Nephews.”

“Eww…” Princess Nova looks at Kha’’rina. “Something tells me you need a better skin-care routine…”

Kha’’rina and her two allies take out pistols, but Keres raises her finger and-

Snaps

And the Pistols fly out of their hands! They are about to run forward, but they run into what appears to be an invisible wall. They shout from the otherside of it, but no sound comes out. The three angrily bang their fists against the “shield” trying to break it. Lizzie looks at Keres…

“What did you do!?” She shouts. “Seriously, what kind of magic is that!?”

Keres shows a rare, but subtle grin, showing a little confidence. “Just a small taste of what I can do. Believe it or not, in your world, I am not at my full strength. Here though, I do anything I want or need-”

“So what?” Lizzie asks, “Can’t you just snap them out of existence or somethin’?”

“But where would the fun be in that?” Princess Nova asks. “Especially when it isn’t needed.”

Princess Nova walks in front of the invisible wall.

“When I expected the Nephews, I expected one of their stronger members, like Grayson, J.J. Jay, or MvH. Not these three.” Motioning to Kha’’rina. “Someone who was recruited because of her having nobody else…” She looks towards the icy blue haired ÑŒ-I, “Their proclaimed ‘chosen one,’ with a long road to live up to her status…”

Finally, she looks at the maid of death. She has a scowl on her face, angry at her making light of her closest ally, “And the WORST dressed maid I have seen in my life!”

“-Can they hear us?” Lizzie asks.

“It is sound-proof, one way.” Keres shrugs.

“-You’re just going to rile them up…”

“Nonsense, they think so little of us that it only makes sense this is who they sent.” Princess Nova giggles.

“I don’t know,” Lizzie points to ÑŒ-I, “They treat her as a big deal. Their chosen one.”

“And tell me,” Keres steps forward. “Have you REALLY lived up to the moniker? Have the Nephews been living up to their prescribed individual purposes-”

ÑŒ-I goes up against the invisible wall, cutting a cold glare at Keres. “Because in my limited experience, I have only really seen your Nephews as an accessory, a help to someone else. More like ants to their queen in a hive. Expendable and insignificant.”

“Unified… With no purpose for themselves.” Princess Nova chimes in and the three of them start kicking the invisible wall harder.

“Stop trying to get them riled up!” Lizzie shouts. “It’s just going to create problems!”

Keres turns slowly to Lizzie Rose. There is a hint of confidence in her body language, standing tall. “Then how about we test that theory? Drop your weapons…”

Princess Nova throws her pistol to the side as Keres takes the blade given to Lizzie from her hand, throwing it away. Keres-

Snaps

Her fingers and the invisible barricade between them and the Nephews is gone!

ь-I darts towards the Daughter of Demise and Keres turns around to meet her with a hard elbow to the face before the two exchange blows, Keres seemingly holding back a touch from her TRUE powers as a way to test herself.

Kha''rina Halruzh, probably annoyed with Princess Nova’s comments on her skin-care routine, goes for her. Despite being in a dress and heels, Princess Nova fights smart, going for a front facelock and the two begin to “wrestle” on the ground.

The odd one out, Lizzie Rose looks at the two fights near her as the Maid of Death tackles her into a wall! Lizzie Rose hits into it hard and gets thrown to the ground immediately. The Maid of Death top mounts Lizzie and grabs her by the head, hammering her down with rights.

Keres spins ÑŒ-I and she pushes her hard against the wall. The Icy-Blue “Avatar” of the Nephews goes down to a knee after her head collides with the wall. Keres sees Lizzie is in trouble and CLUTCHES the Maid of Death by the throat, a Clutch of Woe! Lizzie comes to her senses and looks up at Keres who just exchanges a glance with her. She helped her out. ÑŒ-I comes to her senses and hits Keres in the back to break the Maid of Death free.

But this is all Lizzie needs for an opening. The Maid is down to a knee and Lizzie, with a little extra pepper, nails a HARD knee strike to the face, perhaps the hardest strike she’s delivered! The Maid of Death lies on the ground in a daze.

She looks around and sees that Kha''rina Halruzh is trying to rip off the heels of Nova’s feet. Lizzie rushes over, but is met with an accidental elbow to the jaw! Kha’’rina turns around and turns her focus to Lizzie, grabbing her by the arm and trying for some sort of submission hold to disarm her. She pulls back on the arm and grabs the face-

And Princess Nova rakes the heel of her boot to the eyes of Kha’’rina! She jabs her in the eye! The half-Lumien lets out a yelp of pain as Lizzie pulls her to the ground. Back to back times, Eternal makes a save for her. Nova winks at Lizzie before nailing a HARD elbow strike to the back of the head! The Execution Elbow for Kha’rina!

Keres punches ÑŒ-I in the face and she stumbles in the middle of all three. She looks around. She knows she’s outnumbered. A hint of unease is going through her veins. But. she’s the “Chosen One” of the Nephews, she can handle this, right?

She goes for the possible weak link in the team, Lizzie Rose, but both Princess Nova and Keres swoop in and tackle her to the ground.They stomp her before grabbing a tight grip on her hair. They hold her up on her hands and knees. Keres reaches into her boot and has what appears to be a glowing piece of rope. She ties up ь-I with Princess Nova striking her down each time she tries to fight out. Her hands and knees are tired together and Keres wraps the last bit of rope around her neck so she pulls her like it is a leash.

“She’s all yours, Elizabeth.” Keres looks up at Lizzie. Princess Nova goes over to hand Lizzie the sword Keres gifted her before.

“W-What?” Lizzie looks at the dangerous weapon in her hands. Princess Nova grins and motions to ÑŒ-I.

“Come on, silly, you know what to do!” Princess Nova says jovially.

“She is in your way.” Keres looks at Lizzie. “How much longer are you going to let people like Nephews get the attention you have earned? She’s going to step on you, anointed as the ‘Chosen One’ of the Nephews.”

“Or…” Princess Nova’s voice becomes cold… “Think about everyone who has stepped over you. The Grabrielles, the Johnson’s and the Baxters of the world. Maybe it is time to ensure that something like that never happens again?”

Lizzie’s hands shake. A chance to indulge in that darker side. It happened in FYOG, but it isn’t her. Is it? ÑŒ-I looks up in anger at Lizzie. She struggles but isn’t let go. Seeing Lizzie’s hesitation, Keres says firmly.

“Do not be afraid… You NEED to do it… DO IT!”

Lizzie’s grip tightens around the hilt of the sword. She lifts it up… She can’t do it. Can she? Keres has a death-stare on her, looking deep into her soul. Perhaps out of fear, her blade drops-

And so does the body and head of ь-I.

Lizzie immediately drops her sword and is shaken. Speechless. She actually did it. Princess Nova rushes over and gives her a hug.

“I KNEW you had it in you. Hehe.”

“WHAT!?” Lizzie shouts. “Decapitating someone!?”

“It was needed.” Keres says in her usual monotonous tone before looking towards the door. “Come inside.”

Leading her two travelling companions (though that is very loose of an idea for Lizzie) inside, it looks to be a vault, housing behind electric bars is money, treasures, and riches beyond your wildest dreams, likely from the many adventures the Nephews have been on. Lizzie looks around, though she is still in an absolute state of shock from the moments before. Keres scans around the room, but she doesn’t need to look far.

“There. That is what we are after.”

In the center of the room is a glass case. It is opaque, blocking the view of what is inside. Princess Nova smiles and claps.

“OOH! I can’t WAIT to see what’s inside!” She stands beside Keres.

“-That better be good…” Lizzie mutters. “Because if I had to KILL SOMEONE to get it, then it better be worth it…”

“It is…” Keres adds. “It is all for you.”

“For me?” Lizzie blinks. “Great, why can’t we just take everything else while we’re at it? Maybe then I can sell it all to just retire from wrestling so I can get the hell away from you two.”

“Consider this a gift from us.” Nova says warmly. Patting Lizzie on the back.

Keres looks at the glass. In one motion she hits it with a spinning backfist and the glass shatters on contact. Shards fall to the ground and Lizzie’s eyes practically light up.

Housed in the glass case is a staff. It has a silver handle with golden trims along it. All an intricate design and likely taken great care. Small red gems are etched in it, sparkling under the lights of the room. Towards the end of it, in a holder, we see a rose shape. A beautiful red. It completes the staff. Lizzie steps forward, almost enchanted by the mysterious staff.

“This is far more valuable to you than anything else in this room.” Keres explains. “We picked this out just for you. A staff with a beautiful rose. A symbol of many things. Friendship, beauty, power. Most importantly… It’s the key to your future.”

Shaking her head, Lizzie seems to break the temporary spell it has over her. “N-No. I can’t.”

“Don’t be so modest for once.” Nova encourages her. “You EARNED this. This is just for you. Indulge for once. Look at it. It’s SO pretty!”

“You don’t get it- We’re NOT friends!” Lizzie shouts. She’s visibly on edge. “I can’t after everything you guys have put me through! You have been saying everything was ‘for my own good,’ but it ISN’T! It’s caused me to cry! My friends got hurt because of you psychopaths!”

“We are far kinder than you think.” Keres mutters.

“No, you're not!”

Lizzie turns to Keres and shouts. “You’re EVIL!”

“Come on, I am sure once you get to know us, you’ll see how amazing we are. If anything, we are three sisters cut from the same cloth-” Nova tries to interject, but Lizzie is having none of it.

“We’re NOTHING alike. We’re NOT sisters! I just want to get this match over with so you can finally leave me alone!”

“So?” Keres presses Lizzie further. “With that attitude, we will be destroyed by the Nephews. We will become just another statistic in FWA. You will remain as such.”

Going in front of Lizzie, Keres looks her in the eyes, unflinching. “Just this once. Step into our world. See what it is like. If it isn’t for you, then by all means, go. But trust me… Once you open your mind-”

Princess Nova finishes. “Your world opens up…”

Lizzie looks at Nova and Keres. She’s still seething. Once again, her eyes shift to the staff. Its shine, beauty. -Can it be all that bad? Lizzie walks over to it and examines it long, thinking over the consequences of it. Is she like the Eternal sisters? Some power goes over her and slowly, she raises her hand. Will she grab the staff? Slowly, her hand moves towards it. Her fingertips are over the beautifully designed staff. Gently her fingers-

Touch the staff-

“-And the dream ended there...”

Lizzie exhaled a deep sigh as if she was a human balloon expelling all manner of stress and tension, or at the very least attempting to; she suddenly seemed very tired as she rubbed her eyes somewhat, exhausted, the weight of the trauma square on her shoulders.

"You ever get the feeling you're going insane?"

"I don't think you're going insane..." Her doctor gives her some reassurance.

"Yeah?"

"I do think you're tired of being a victim however...."

Lizzie couldn't help but to let out a snort of amusement at those words, and shrugged

"People think they can make me, but they never will. I'm just going to show up, Stand across the ring from the Nephews and do what I do best...Fight. Maybe then those two will leave me alone?"

"Do you hate them?"

Lizzie took a moment to take in the question, chewing it over before shaking her head

"I'm trying not to, when people team up on me, bully me...to be honest? I'm kind of numb to it. So if Nova and Keres want to spend all their focus and all their energy on me? Then honestly, that's fine. But what gets me? When they target my friends. My family. That does annoy me. Joe Burr has done nothing but be by my side from day one, he never asked anything of me, he just wanted to be my friend...and because he wanted to have my back, he ended up getting hurt. That's my fault, and I have to live with that, and now I have to team with the two that took him out? Yeah, I feel guilty....annoyed… and pissed off.”

Lizzie lets out a tired sigh, slouching in her chair.

“I just hope it all ends this week.”

“And if it doesn’t…”

The doctor’s shoulders jolt up and her head tilts.

“Then it’s for your own good…”, she says with her mouth moving up and down in a repeating motion.

Lizzie, stricken with anxiety and unrelenting dread at this sight, jumps up and hops over her seat. Her fear leaves her unable to do anything but scream as she runs to the office door, opens it to leave, and slams it shut behind her.

Still in the room, the head doctor stands up from her seat, but her joints are all limp, and her limbs bounce about as if being pulled by strings. Her head hangs and rocks from side to side while her feet drag across the floor and out of the… set?

“Fun!" yells the gleeful voice of a young girl. Keres… but much younger and more childlike in appearance… a toddler.

Panning back, we see the toddler form of Keres standing over a large playset that is strewn about the room. One with a pink corridor, one showing the land of a strange planet, and one being a therapist’s office. In her hands are two wooden crosses with strings attached, and on the end of those strings, is the woman Lizzie Rose had been speaking to this entire time. What even is real anymore?

“For your own good! For your own good!” says the jovial toddler as she makes the puppet jump around the playset.

Various other puppets lay motionless on the ground, including the one that left the office just moments ago… Lizzie Elizabeth Rose.​

 

[Cyrus Truth]

Exile Chronicles (Volume 5)
Chapter 21: Sins and Regrets

The life of a professional wrestler isn’t always as glamorous as some might think.

Despite the fact that the business has been around for over a century at this point, and in spite of all the glitz and glamor that comes with a top-tier wrestling production, wrestlers themselves run the gambit. After all, winners tend to get paid more, and not everybody in a wrestling promotion can be a winner.

Cyrus Truth has been wrestling for a lot longer than damn near anybody in FWA at this point. But for The Exile, money was never the reason. Any agent worth their salt would look at the various contracts that Cyrus has signed off on over the years and seen multiple opportunities where money was left on the table. And it’s not as if Cyrus has ever been the type to seek out corporate sponsorships or endeavors outside of wrestling…or at least, endeavors that garner the attention of the public eye.

Still, regardless of what money he does and doesn’t make as a wrestler, Cyrus has learned the value of not getting wrapped up in the trappings of extravagance. Hence, why we find The Exile in the shower of some two-star hotel. It’s definitely nothing fancy, but it’s clean and, more importantly? It’s quiet and private.

Judging by the look on Cyrus’s face, the exhaustion and the way he winces as he attempts to put weight on his right foot, it’s obvious that we’re seeing The Exile just hours after his match in Birmingham. Steam rises as the scalding hot water pours out of the showerhead, dripping from Cyrus’s hair onto his face, neck, and shoulders.

Eventually, the water stops as Cyrus turns the shower off. Grabbing a towel and wiping the excess water off him, he gingerly walks over to the mirror above the sink. The steam from the shower has fogged it over, as Cyrus takes his hand and almost absentmindedly wipes the mirror clean.

What he sees, reflected back at him, certainly doesn’t look like the man who won Carnal Contendership.

Definitely not the man slated to fight Chris Peacock in the main event of Back in Business for the right to claim the FWA World Championship.

The man looking back at Cyrus Truth in the mirror? He looks…deflated. Disgusted. Absolutely livid at himself.

Over the course of a career that is quickly approaching two full decades, Cyrus Truth has been beaten in countless matches in countless ways. Anyone that can say with a straight face that they’re unbeatable is a fool who overestimates themselves and the nature of the business. Hell, Cyrus has had several matches where he’s lost by submission…

…but in those cases, it’s always been because his body gave out long before his will.

In the course of Cyrus’s long career in wrestling, he can count the number of times he’s tapped out on one hand, and still have about three fingers left to keep counting.

Tapping out is an admission that you’ve had enough. That you’re willing to sacrifice your pride to forfeit the match because the pain was too much, or the price of continuing was too high. Cyrus has always put a high value on his personal pride, even if it meant that he’d have to suffer for it.

But yet…on Meltdown, Cyrus Truth would tap out. Clean and visible for all to see in the middle of the ring to a man wearing a rat costume with a massive chip on his shoulder.

To a man who condemned his existence, seeing him as a trophy that will lead to a salvation that he wasn’t strong enough to find when not wearing the guise of a diseased rat.

“Why?”

It’s quiet, barely loud enough to be a whisper. But it’s loud enough to hear the shakiness of rage and pain behind it.

“Why did I tap out? WHY?”

Anzu Kurosawa, on commentary, had noted that Cyrus had his main event at Back in Business to consider. Allowing weaselperson to maintain that submission hold would’ve likely resulted in irreparable damage to his foot and ankle. It would’ve endangered Cyrus’s ambitions to reclaim the World Title, after fighting for years to get this opportunity.

It was the smart thing to do.

And Cyrus knows that.

And he HATES himself for even considering it. And for acting on it.

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

With a roar of frustration and disgust, a bellow of self-loathing at the absolute weakness that he allowed himself to succumb to, Cyrus begins to violently punch the mirror, shattering the glass and distorting the man reflecting back at him. The Exile lets out a primal scream, anger and hatred at what he sacrificed to that rat bastard all in the name of fleeting SURVIVAL.

The mirror explodes into a shower of glass shards. Blood starts to seep from the knuckles of his left hand, splattering against the porcelain sink. Eventually, long past the reflection having been shattered and the mirror destroyed, Cyrus puts all of his weight on the sink, panting heavily as if trying to catch a breath that is threatening to escape and not come back.

The steady trickle of blood from Cyrus’s knuckles mixes with the condensation and water, thinning it as it flows from his hands down the drain.

Off in the distance, presumably sitting on a nightstand near the bed of this hotel room, we hear the gentle ringing of a cell phone.

Cyrus takes a washcloth, wraps his bloody knuckles, and leaves to go answer it…

*******

“My brothers and sisters in Christ Almighty! Remember that our Lord and Savior gave to us his holy Word, to ensure that we lived lives of righteousness, piety, and charity! Ours is to serve the Lord in all we do, and to live the Word and bring it to those who wander in sin and darkness. Praise be to God!”

“PRAISE BE TO GOD!”

We find ourselves in a massive auditorium, a massive church adorned with garish stained glass windows and top-of-the-line audio equipment. A crowd of nearly a thousand faithful parishioners are exalting their god, as the preacher…the evangelist holds court center stage.

The evangelist is a pudgy sort, with a receding hairline and a red, rosy face. He wears a tan suit that looks impeccably tailored, although it’s obvious that he’s begun to sweat through it in spite of the massive air conditioning system that’s been installed at this megachurch. A chorus of singers recite hymns as a small orchestra plays music. The crowd is absolutely enthralled by the pageantry and showmanship of the evangelist, as offertory baskets are passed around and donations are collected from the faithful.

The evangelist says some more things, but beyond the infectious charisma and the adulation of his flock, the words themselves are…repetitive, meandering syllables that don’t say anything of any value. But the crowd eats it up, even as the evangelist smiles and promotes his website and donation links. Not to this crowd, mind you…but to the television cameras rolling and recording this service for broadcast on the Internet.

With a smile and a wave, the evangelist walks off stage to what looks like a dressing room. As he opens the door, he almost absentmindedly calls out:

“All right, Ian! You and the boys get the car around. I got a meeting at the Hyatt in about 30 minutes and I ain’t about to leave her waiting.”

As the evangelist enters the dressing room and closes the door behind him, he stops dead in his tracks. The room is completely empty save for the mirrors and a change of clothes, and judging by his expression? It’s not supposed to be.

“God damn it…IAN! Where the hell are you?”

“Ian’s not here, preacher.”

From a dark corner of the dressing room, the evangelist watches as a lithe figure, slightly favoring his right foot emerges into the dim light coming from a nearby lamp. The figure’s dressed in black, his left hand bandaged around his knuckles as dried flecks of blood still manage to peek through the gauze. In his right hand, he’s holding two steel folding chairs. As the figure comes into view, we see the tired but fierce glare of Cyrus Truth staring down the evangelist, a twisted sort of smile on his lips as he sets up the chairs.

The evangelist, a bit unnerved, stammers out:

“I-I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“Just a sinner looking to get some things off his chest. And I figured that your security detail would just be a distraction, so I sent them away.”

The evangelist quickly fumbles into his suit pocket to produce a cell phone, but his expression falters when he sees that there’s no signal. He moves to the door, but finds that he can’t open it.

The evangelist turns back to Cyrus, who has taken a seat on one of the chairs he just set up. He holds up a remote control in one of his hands and says in the most casual tone:

“You know, I’m a bit surprised at how advanced the security system is for a church. Some military bases aren’t nearly as secure. Still, you do have some…vulnerabilities. Anyways, have a seat, preacher. After all…you’re a servant of God, right? It’s your job to hear the woes of the sinful and the lost, isn’t it?”

Breathing heavily, the evangelist nonetheless does his best to put on a facade of maintaining control as he waddles up to the empty chair next to The Exile. Despite the bluster, the evangelist’s hands are shaking as he takes his seat and tries to scoot out of arm’s reach of Cyrus. However, he doesn’t get far as Cyrus grasps him by the thigh to keep him close.

“...W-well, all right, son. You want to confess your sins, right?”

“Well…no, not exactly. I’m not here to confess the sins I’ve committed. But rather, the sins I’ve yet to commit.”

The evangelist gulps nervously as he tries again to get some distance, but Cyrus continues to hold him down. The Exile isn’t even looking at his captive audience of one, as he chuckles somewhat somberly.

“What does it mean to be a good person, preacher? Is it just…doing good works? Having good intentions? Or is it something else, something beyond just what you believe and what you do? You see, I’ve always found organized religion to be a bit of a bladed pendulum. Over the course of human history, the arc comes back and forth, and the blade can cut either for the side of angels or for Hell itself.

“I mean, think about it, right? Pope Urban II, the man the Latin Church considered the direct line to the Almighty Himself, used that influence to whip a bunch of zealots to go march, murder, and die in Jerusalem. And not just once, either. Those so-called ‘holy warriors,’ these ‘paladins’ fought for the glory of God in The Crusades…and in doing so, served the selfish needs of a man of supposed faith as monsters committed to the genocide of the infidel.”

“I…I don’t understand…”

“Oh, yes you do. But we’ll get to that. See, my problem is that I find myself in a bit of a dark place, right now. I did something in my last fight that I should’ve NEVER done, no matter what it cost me. But…I did. And now I find myself in a place where I have to question whether I’ve sacrificed my own faith in the pursuit of a prize I, admittedly, covet more than just about anything.”

Cyrus’s grip on the evangelist’s thigh tightens, as the preacher winches and whimpers. The Exile’s countenance hardens as he growls out.

“And now, I find myself having to face a young girl. A young woman who fancies herself some kind of ‘Holy Knight.’ I don’t know anything about this Noriko, this upstart who just started her career and her path in FWA. Thing is, she seems like a decent enough person. She doesn’t seem to suffer from any sort of inferiority complex or some great desire to prove something. Hard to say if she has the stomach to stick around when things don’t go her way.

“I should feel bad about what I’m about to do when we face off. I really should. Hell, my record when it comes to facing off against women in wrestling isn’t exactly a rosy one. They just…well, they bring out the worst in me, and I can’t understand WHY. And the damndest thing is that…none of this would really matter except for one thing.

“I’ve already cast aside my pride because I was afraid of the consequences. I allowed someone who should’ve never been in the position to press me against the wall to get the satisfaction of seeing me give up. I…can’t afford any more mistakes. I can’t afford to take my boot off the throat of anybody that gets between me and the prize I’ve been hunting. I CAN’T be a good person when I have to face this Noriko.

“...so, what does that mean? Does that make me evil? Am…am I just damned to be a sinner because I can’t let go of that which I crave? Can you answer that, preacher?”

Before the evangelist can respond…like a feral lion, Cyrus jumps out of his chair and grabs the preacher by the throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but he glares at him with an unsettling fury and eerily says in a calm tone.

“Am I damned, preacher?”

“P-please, son…I don’t…I’m just a humble messenger of the Lord…”

“AND THEN THERE’S THAT! See, you like to say that, don’t you? You’re a good man, an honest man. But this church, those people…all that MONEY that comes pouring into your coffers. See, that’s the damnable thing about my own personal plight. I find myself in a world where pride is a poison, where the virtuous have to claim their virtues. Is that what I have to deal with…is this Noriko that kind of person? Maybe she’s secretly some kind of monster beneath the image of a saint. Or maybe she thinks she’s going to be that saint…but get punched in the mouth a few times, a dozen bruises falling off the ladder to the heights of the business…it’s something I’ve seen a hundred times before. It’s easy to be a saint when you don’t have to walk through Hell regularly. But you wouldn’t know anything about that…WOULD YOU?”

Cyrus releases his grip on the evangelist’s throat, and despite not having been choked, the preacher gasps for air out of panic. He remains seated, however, as Cyrus looms over him and continues to rant.

“...So, that’s my confession, preacher. I’m going to fight and batter a hopeful young woman whose only mistake was agreeing to meet me in a match after my most horrific sin…the sin of abandoning who I am for the prize I’ve lusted after for years. But…I have to, you see? I have to end her. Because if I don’t? If I let her use me as some sort of stepping stone, I’ll continue to lose everything that has defined me over the last two decades. If I fail to win, if I fail to put her down…then it won’t stop. I threw away my pride out of a meaningless sense of self-preservation. And I’d rather be damned for fighting like Hell than to be damned for cowardice.”

The evangelist catches his breath, but he looks almost scared to breathe. There’s a wild look in Cyrus’s eyes, expounded whenever he shifts his weight to his right foot. Something inside Cyrus was broken after giving up the match to weaselperson. A sense of losing that edge, that drive, that conviction that brought him so close to Chris Peacock and the World Heavyweight Championship. The evangelist doesn’t understand this, but he’s conned enough people that he’s gotten very good at reading folks.

And from what he’s reading from Cyrus? The Exile is fully prepared to unleash Hell to atone for that one moment of weakness, to make it so that his faltering isn’t a condemnation of his ambitions.

The evangelist, cautiously, gets to his feet and tries to smooth out the creases in his suit.

“So…you asking me to forgive you?”

Cyrus, much to the evangelist’s surprise, laughs at that.

“‘Forgive?’ No, preacher. I don’t care about forgiveness from someone else. I have to be able to forgive myself for my weakness. For my cowardice and failure to get the job done. You, on the other hand? You’re damned.

“Outside, waiting for you, are a couple of heavies from the Ruiz Cartel. You really should’ve thought about using your church to funnel drug money and not being smart enough to pay back the kingpins. Normally, I wouldn’t bother with the petty squabbles of drug-pushing scumbags…but these ones are a lot better than others I’ve dealt with in Mexico. I need them to maintain the peace south of the border, at least for now.”

“Now, now…wait a second! That ain’t…”

“Yeah, I know it’s not right. I know it makes me a fucking monster. But that’s the world we live in these days. Monsters within and without, threatening to choke away anything decent. But…as Noriko is about to find out, if I have to be a monster in order to make sure I never show that kind of weakness like I did last Meltdown? Then I can live with being damned.

“Your days of professing to be a holy man are over, preacher. Now…start walking. And don’t stop.”

The evangelist tries to speak up, tries to beg…but he sees that it’s pointless.

The Exile’s will has been hardened.

His conviction has been reforged in steel.

And the only way out is towards his reckoning.

Cyrus takes the remote and presses a button. The exit door to the dressing room is unlocked, and The Exile points towards it. Gulping nervously, the crooked evangelist nonetheless seems to accept that his own personal Hell has come calling. With a nod, he turns and walks out of the room.

Alone, The Exile ponders his thoughts. Thinking about the match at Back in Business, and the title he longs for.

Thinking about a man with the soul of a rat, who he submitted to out of a sense of fear and preservation.

Thinking about a young woman, who aspires to be saintly. Someone who he’s never met, has no grudge against…

…but will destroy anyway, because she stands in his way.

And the last thing we hear?

Gunshots.

*BANG* *BANG*​

 

[Jimmy King]

Fallout 028
New Orleans, LA
Saturday, May 13th, 2023

Jackson Fenix had a match earlier in the show, and although it didn't go how he would've liked, he still feels good about himself. There is something gnawing away at him, though. He wouldn't admit it, but something was bothering him. Beneath that newly positive demeanor of his, there was something that he couldn't stop thinking about.

What didn't help this was that he was watching Jeremy Best take on Violet Dreyer. If you've been paying attention, you'll know the history between Jeremy and Jackson. Once the best of friends, almost inseparable, they were amigos. When he kicked Jeremy to the curb, Jackson threw all of that away. Since then, Jeremy has started to act differently and do things he wouldn't normally do. Jackson has evolved, too, and is a far cry away from being the immature hooligan he was once notoriously known for.

Anyway, Jackson is watching Jeremy and Violet intently, and it's got to the moment where Violet makes Jeremy tap to the Dryer Knot.

"Well, it can't get much better than that."

Nate Savage was sitting beside Jackson, and Nate was reveling at Jeremy tapping out instantly. Nate gives Jackson a light pat on the shoulder, and that snaps Jackson out of the trance that he was in while watching the match.

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy, huh? The only thing that could improve this night would be peanut butter cheesecake!"

Kung-Fu Karl, nGw star and one of the proteges for Jackson and Nate, is also in the room and uses the time to speak up.

"There's peanut butter cheesecake in catering, Mr. Savage, although I'd hurry if I were you because it was going pretty fast."

Nate looks at Karl and smiles; Nate gives Karl a light punch on the shoulder as he gets up to head up.

"Well, this night just got better! Do you want a piece, Jack?"

Jackson shakes his head to decline the offer, and Nate shrugs with a smile.

”Suit yourself!”

"Uh, I'd like a piece, Mr. Savage."

Jimmy Boom Boom, another protege of theirs, speaks up. Nate looks at Jimmy and laughs at him as if he had told a funny joke, and Nate leaves the room while a sad Jimmy Boom Boom hangs his head down.

Jackson isn't worried about a snack; he's more invested in what is happening on the monitor. Jeremy and Bryan have started to attack Violet after the match, but then Bryan is chased off by Mike Parr. Jeremy is left alone with Violet, and Jackson sees Jeremy's twisted smile and Jackson can't take it anymore. He jumps out of his chair and storms out of the room without saying a word, which leaves Karl and Jimmy in surprise.

"I was serious about that cheesecake."

"Forget about that, look!"

Karl points at the monitor, and Jackson Fenix is seen running down to the ring. He chases off Jeremy and eventually makes the challenge to Jeremy.

"Mr. Savage isn't going to be happy about this."


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”Are you crazy?! A Sesame Street fight?! Have you lost your mind, Jack?!”

Nate is understandably upset with his friend for issuing such a ludicrous challenge to someone like Jeremy, but Jackson doesn't share Nate's feelings.

"Look, I had to do something! This thing with Jeremy has gone on too long! Someone has to stop it, so it might as well be me since it's my fault he's acting this way!"

This revelation from Jackson floors Nate, and he shakes his head in confusion. He begins to pace around the room while his untouched cheesecake sits on a plate on a nearby table. There's a second piece that Nate had brought as a surprise for Jackson, despite Jackson not wanting a piece, and Jimmy Boom Boom tries to take the piece of cake sneakily, but Nate smacks his hand away. Nate then turns his attention back toward Jackson and shakes his head at him.

”Your fault?! How on earth is it your fault he's acting like a deranged lunatic?! News flash Jack, he's always been a deranged lunatic! He was that way long before you kicked him in the face! Remember, I told you all of this from the start that he was bad news."

"No, I don't think he was. The Jeremy I knew isn't the same now. There's something off about him now, and it's my fault; I did this to him! It's my fault that Krash is locked away somewhere, held against his will!"

"Jack, would you please listen to yourself right now? You're starting to sound as crazy as Jeremy! None of this is your fault, okay? You're better off forgetting about this thing with Jeremy and moving on. I thought you were past this after we beat him and XYZ in that tag team match a while back."

Jackson stands up and shakes his head at Nate, who still looks confused. Behind them, Jimmy Boom Boom is trying to take the cake again, but without looking at him, Nate points his index finger in Jimmy's direction threateningly, and Jimmy thinks better of it.

"Look, I thought I was too, but I'm not. This has been bugging me for a while, and I need to do something about it. I know you're unhappy about it, and I understand why you're upset, but please let me do this. I need to close the chapter on Jeremy in my life, once and for all."

Nate sighed dejectedly and was at a loss for words at this point. He starts to walk around the room, stewing in anger and frustration.

"I need some time to myself to think about all of this, okay? I'll talk to you later. One more thing, though, I know you're going to want to help, but I want to do this on my own. I realize that Jeremy will likely have Bryan around because wherever Jeremy is, he is never too far behind, but I can handle him. I want to do this one on my own; I need to do this on my own."

Jackson leaves the room, and Nate is left alone with Jimmy and Karl. Nate is speechless as he stands there with his arms crossed.

"Uh, Mr. Savage, since Mr. Fenix left, would it be possible if I could have his piece of cake?"

Nate doesn't even acknowledge Jimmy; instead, he lets out a primal roar and angrily flips the table over. Now both pieces of the cheesecake are smashed on the floor beneath the flipped table, and Nate storms out of the room.

"I just wanted some cake."


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Jackson Fenix is back in his hotel room, alone with his thoughts. He's lying in bed and ignoring the constant text messages from Nate and Hazel. The TV is on in the background, but he's not paying attention to it, but it's some movie about what-ifs and how life would be different if someone had done something differently, and this has Jackson thinking about his what-ifs.

What if he had never super kicked Jeremy, and he had gone along with The Undisputed Amigos? Would things be different? Would he still be friends with Nate? He starts to think about all of this before he starts to doze off.


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What-if?

Fallout 016
'THE ATLANTIC'
Live from South Beach in Miami, Florida

"You gotta choose, Jackson. Undisputed Alliance...or Undisputed Amigos. It's HIM or ME!"

Jackson seems conflicted by this proclamation from Nate. Jeremy tries to be a voice of reason, but that only causes Nate to get angry toward Jeremy, and Bryan comes to Jeremy's aide, which then causes a scuffle between Bryan and Nate to occur that Jeremy is trying to break up.

"Jackson, maybe you can help, talk some sense into Nate…"

For a second, Jackson thinks about giving a superkick to Jeremy as he looks at Nate, but he thinks better of it and goes in to help break up the scuffle. He pulls Nate away from Bryan and starts to speak to him.

"Enough, Nate, enough! Dude, chill out, okay?"

Nate looks stunned by Jackson talking to him like this, and he tries to push past him, but Jackson holds him back.

"Nate, please, listen! Come on, man, let's give this a chance, okay? The four of us here, we can take over the FWA"

"Our very own Friendship Wrestling Alliance! What do you think, Bryan?"

Bryan seems to be thinking about it, but he shrugs and accepts this offer.

"Yeah, come on, Nate, Friendship Wrestling Alliance! That sounds pretty great, right?"

Nate looks at Jackson in disgust at the mere thought of that and snatches the microphone away from Jackson.

"That sounds awful, Jax! This whole idea is awful, and you're starting to sound just as insane as he does!"

"Oh, now come on, Nate, you don't mean that!"

"Zip it, you freak! I've had enough of this, Jax, I tried to do this for you, but I can't do it anymore. If you want to do this…fine…but I can't be a part of it…"

Nate shoves the microphone back at Jeremy, leaving the ring to a stunned crowd. Meanwhile, back in the ring, Jackson watches his longtime best friend go, and Jackson feels a bit hurt. Jeremy wraps his arm around Jackson's shoulder and tries to cheer him up.

"Oh, it's okay, Jackson; give him some time, and maybe he'll come around! Until then, let's take this party to the back!"

Jackson looks at Jeremy and nods, but Jackson can't help but feel some insecurity in Jeremy's words. Jackson shakes it off, though, and thinks nothing of it. It's time for the Undisputed Amigos to take over.


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It's been a few days since Jackson aligned himself with Jeremy and Bryan to form The Undisputed Amigos. Jackson had been trying to get a hold of Nate, but he was not having any luck getting through. His messages were left on read, with no return calls or voicemails. Jackson had been feeling guilty about what happened because he still cared about Nate, and he wanted Nate to be part of this.

Jeremy finds Jackson looking down at his phone solemnly, so he sits next to Jackson and wraps his arm around Jackson.

”Heya, how’s my bestest amigo doing?!”

Jackson looks away from his phone and glances over at Jeremy, who has his usual cheerful expression. Jackson tries to return the gesture with his smile, but it's not as pleasant as Jeremy's.

”What’s wrong buddy?”

"I don't know, Jeremy, I've tried calling Nate, and I've tried messaging him, but I'm not getting any responses. I don't know what to do, Jeremy. I thought I made the right choice but…”

Jeremy brings Jackson in close and hugs him. Jackson is unsure how to respond to this, but he reciprocates the gesture.

”Shh, there, there my friend. Look, I understand it's tough losing a friend. Someone you were close to, like Nate, but maybe it's time to move on. Nate has clearly moved on, so you should do the same.

"Yeah, but didn't you want him to be a part of Undisputed Amigos and make Friendship Wrestling Alliance? Isn't there a place for him at Friendtopia?"

"Oh, of course, I did, but it's apparent that Nate doesn't feel the same way, and I don't want to force him to do something he doesn't want to do. You don't want to do that either, do you? It's best to move on and let Nate do what he will do."

Jackson thinks it over and reluctantly nods in agreement. Jeremy looks pleased as punch as he lets Jackson out of the hug.

"I guess you're right; maybe it is for the best."

”That’s the spirit! Moving on, we don't have a match at Back in Business, but Bryan has one, so we can cheer him on."

”Oh really? Who is facing?”

"Oh, you haven't heard, he's facing Nate. Due to their ongoing issues stemming from what went down during the Jamboree, those in charge thought it would be best to have them settle it in the ring."

Jackson looks surprised by this, but Jeremy seems unphased by it. Jackson didn't know what to think or to say, and Jeremy could tell something was awry.

"Hey, look at me, amigo, don't worry, okay? Everything will be alright. Don’t worry about Nate”


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Back in Business XVI
Estádio Jornalista Mário Filho [Maracanã Stadium] in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil.
Saturday 9th July 2022.

"Yay, Bryan did it! Way to go, Bryan!"

The Undisputed Amigos are backstage now, and while Baxter and Best seem happy, Fenix doesn't share their enthusiasm.

"Yeah, but he cheated. You slipped him the brass knuckles."

Jeremy is about to answer, but Baxter cuts him off and approaches Fenix.

”Yeah, so what? He got what was coming to him; you should be happy! He turned his back on you. I thought you, of all people, would appreciate seeing him get his just desserts."

"Bryan is right, Jackson. Nate turned his back on you. I know he was your friend, but he gave up that right to call you a friend when he walked away from us during the Jamboree."

"That still doesn't make it okay to cheat, and Nate didn't turn his back on me. He doesn't understand, but please give me more time to talk to him."

"Jackson, I told you it was best to move on from him, and Bryan took care of him. It is time to move on from Nate and focus on the future of us. Yes, Bryan used nefarious means to get the job done, but did you hear the people? They loved it! They love us and wanted to see Nate get what was coming to him, and that's precisely what happened."

"I don't know about that. I'm not sure about this."

"Look, everything will be alright, okay? Don't worry about Nate. Now, let's enjoy the rest of the night!"

”Yeah, let’s party!”


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Back in Business has come and gone, and while it was a successful event for Bryan Baxter, things turned out poorly for Jeremy's other friend and mentor, Krash. Krash was last seen in a fight with Randy Ramon, ending with both of them in the lake of Quinta de Boa.

It had been days since no one had seen or heard from either man. This was cause for concern, especially for Jeremy regarding Krash. Jeremy hadn't slept a wink since the events transpired and had been doing everything he could to search for Krash.

”Jeremy, are you nuts?! Were you watching the same show as us? We all saw them sink below and never come back up. Face it, Jeremy, Krash is gone."

Bryan Baxter had been trying to let Jeremy off easy, but Jeremy wasn't listening.

”No, I don’t believe it, Bryan! I believe Krash is out somewhere, and we must find him!"

”We? What's this 'we' talk? Nobody is going to find him; come on. Hey Jackson, can you talk some sense into him?"

"I don't know Bryan; I think Jeremy might be right."

”What?! Come on, we all saw as clear as day that they both sank to the bottom and never came back up; they're gone!"

"They could've come back up after the footage was cut out. Maybe Krash got out alive, and he's still alive."

"Okay, hypothetically, let's say that he is alive, maybe he doesn't want to be found, and perhaps he wants people to think he's-"

”NO! No, he is not dead! Krash is out there, Bryan, and we'll find him, with or without you!"


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Many months have passed, and Jeremy's search for Krash has been unsuccessful. Jackson keeps reassuring Jeremy it will be okay and that they'll find him.

" It's okay, Jeremy, we'll find him, don't worry."

"It's been months, Jackson; there's no hope! At least we have that tribute show for him coming up where we can pay him his proper respects."

"Come on, Jeremy, don't give up. You've always told me to never give up, even when feeling down."

Jeremy smiles at Jackson and nods, showing appreciation for his friend's support. Jeremy's phone goes off, and it's a text message from Bryan.

”Who is it?”

"It's Bryan; he says he has something he needs to tell me. He says he'll tell me at Back in Town."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to be talking to him? He lied to you and then what he did to poor Lizzie Rose, and he refuses to give her a fair rematch."

”You know what? I'll hear him out. I'll see what he has to say."


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Back in Town
'The Krash Memorial Show'
Ball Arena in Denver, Colorado.
Sunday, February 19th, 2023.

"Oh, don't you worry, Krash, we're going to help you, don't worry!"

Bryan Baxter places Krash's body on the couch in the locker room, and Jeremy kneels near him.

"Krash, I'm so sorry, but we're going to help you!"

Jackson Fenix enters the room, and he can't believe his eyes.

"Jeremy, what is going on, man? What was that out there, huh?! Why did you let that happen?!"

Jeremy doesn't answer, but Bryan speaks up instead for Jeremy.

"Look, we did what we had to do! We're helping him, okay? We didn't do anything wrong!"

"You sure have a funny way of showing you're helping him!"

"Look, can't you just be happy that we got him back? He's alive, after all!"

"Jackson, he's alive! That's all that counts, and what matters now is getting him back to good health!"

”By what? Kidnapping him and holding him hostage? No way, I don't want any part in this!"

"Jackson, come on, you can't leave a friend in need like this!"

"I don't know about you, but friends don't do this to each other."

”What about Nate? I bet if he had stuck around, he'd help."

"No, Nate wouldn't do this. He isn't perfect, but I know he wouldn't stoop this low. I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore."

Jackson leaves the room, and Bryan goes to chase after him, but Jeremy holds him back.

”Let him go.”


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Jackson wakes up from his dream, and he looks down at all of Nate's missed messages on his phone. He's about to text back, but instead he calls him back. He gets sent to a voicemail.

"Hey Nate, sorry I didn't call back sooner, and I'm sorry about all of this Jeremy nonsense. I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess, but I promise it's done after I'm finished with Jeremy in this street fight."

Maybe it wasn't Jackson's fault that Jeremy is the way he is now, but one thing he knows for sure is that he has to finish this. He has to finally let go of this Jeremy Best issue, once and for all.​

 

[Mandalorian]

Night fell over the Nola Desert, and the landscape was a dim, but deep, shade of blue as far as the eye could see with the exception of a lone campfire in the middle of the desert. A dried out tree trunk placed horizontally across the ground acted as a seat, with the offshoots from it being useful as kindling to ensure that the flame kept going. The man sitting on the makeshift bench snapped off a small branch and tossed it on the fire and he watched intently as the newly-introduced wood slowly caught.

Watching was the man’s profession of choice. An ancient being that had lived in Fantasia longer than all other known lifeforms. He had seen many warriors come and go during his time wandering the fields, deserts and cities of Fantasia. Without exception, they wanted to bend Fantasia to their will, but very few were ultimately successful. Sooner or later, they would all fall, whether it be at their own hands or by another’s sword. All except for The Watcher.

Defending and watching over Fantasia was a task that he had assigned to himself out of obligation. It is not a responsibility which he wore lightly, but one he felt was necessary. Who was better to assess the worthiness of those who sought success in such a dangerous environment than one who had endured in it for so long? The Watcher looked into the flames and after a few seconds passed, he witnessed a face appear in the fire.

Cautiously examining the visage that had presented itself to him, The Watcher grunted as he recognised the face as one resembling his own. The face in the fire was the first to speak. He spoke in a stern voice, in an almost accusatory tone. “What news do you bring, exiled one?”

The Watcher that was sitting in front of the fire looked out into the distance in a forlorn manner, exhaling deeply out of his nose before providing a response. “The object of my attention travels towards Saxet City. He battled Daniel the Great in the Nola Desert, but allowed him to escape.”

“This aligns with the whispers we have heard. A sign of weakness , to allow a foe to avoid the certainty of death when the time is appropriate.”

“Hmm.” The Watcher concurred with the version of himself that was communicating through the flames. “I do not understand why such a vested interest is required. When the time comes-”

“When the time comes, you must be ready, exiled one.” The interruption caused The Watcher to clench his fist in frustration. It was a feeling that this second version of himself picked up on almost immediately. “After all, Christopher of Lynbrook has bested you each time you have faced one another, is that correct?”

“Yes.” The Watcher said, furious that his previous failures were brought up in argument against him, especially when there was no denying them.

“Then you must continue to prepare. What is taking Christopher to Saxet City anyway, exiled one?”

“After suffering the embarrassment that he did?” The Watcher allowed a small smirk to creep onto his face, confident in his knowledge of how Christopher of Lynbrook operates. “He will be desperate to prove himself. That means that he will be careless. He will show that the standards required to become the champion are lower than they have ever been before.”

“Very good. Well, should you be correct, there should not be any more mishaps when your time comes again. Now, continue your watch, exiled one.”

The face in the fire quickly evaporated into the flames and The Watcher craned his neck back to look up into the sky. His thoughts weighed heavily on his mind. He closed his eyes and thought about where Christopher of Lynbrook would be headed next.

“Christopher. Please. We should really talk about this before you go making any rash decisions.” Apri’s voice was filled with concern for his friend as the duo reached the borders of the Nola Desert and were not far away from Saxet City at all. The initial enthusiasm for their next quest had waned significantly from Apri’s perspective, as Christopher’s motivations for taking the assignment had also shifted.

Apri fluttered around Christopher’s head as he chirped as much as he could in an attempt to deter Fantasia’s champion. Despite the talking bird being a constant source of irritation, Christopher remained focused on pressing forward towards Saxet City. “It is not too late to change your mind. You don’t need to do this! We could just walk away and do something else!”

Indeed there were plenty of other things that Christopher could have chosen to do in Fantasia; visit areas he had not been before, speak to locals situated within the towns and villages that they had passed through and even fight off additional beasts plaguing the world that Christopher had technical dominion over as its champion. However, it was Christopher’s choice to ignore all such possible deterrents from his primary goal he had assigned himself; to locate and eliminate Johan Sommer.

The reason for this was one which Christopher wanted to forget, but was unable to. He realised that his approach towards Daniel the Great - sparing him - may have afforded him a moral victory over one of his great rivals, but it was at the cost of belief in him. The taunts that were put in his direction as a result of Daniel walking away from their encounter had not only planted seeds of doubt in the peoples’ minds, but also his own. His belief in his own ability to prove his claim had started to falter.

“It just seems to me like you are getting yourself into a fight against someone you know every little about. Someone perhaps very dangerous. Christopher, you are not thinkin-”

“Apri, do you believe in me?” Christopher stopped walking towards Saxet City as he spoke out loud for the first time in days. Apri also stopped darting around Christopher’s head and instead hovered in front of Christopher’s face. “Do you?”

“Always.”

Apri’s answer was immediate and affirmative, which took Christopher by surprise. He was instantly reminded of the loyalty that Apri had shown him for a very long time and at that moment resolved that he would take some time one day to look into reversing the curse put upon his friend which turned him into a bird. Perhaps a task for after Johan Sommer had been dealt with.

“I… appreciate that, Apri. However, there are plenty that do not. I do not know whether I underestimated Daniel or overestimated myself, or whether it was those neanderthals in the Nola Desert getting inside my head, but what happened back there means that I have a point to prove. Now more than ever, Apri.

There were already those who doubted me, even after I fought off The Bandit Queen and The Watcher at one time. What happened with Daniel only made those naysayers louder and armed them with more ammunition to use against me. I am the champion, Apri, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that it is not just in name only. So, I need to remind everyone of who I am and what that means, and that means taking someone down.

This Johan Sommer, a man who is taking all of the gold he can get his hands on and depriving others in the process, he seems perfect. Granted, I do not know much about this man, but I can learn. A challenge, I am sure he will pose, but one that I will ensure that I am ready for. I am sure the people of Saxet City will be willing me on to take him down. Let’s see if he wishes to have a taste of my gold, too.”

With a smirk, Christopher looked over his shoulder at the golden sword slung over his back. Christopher then studied Apri for a moment and waited for the blue tit to nod his head in agreement, having convinced him to continue going along with the intended course of action. “What comes next, then? I assume you have some sort of plan for how to defeat him?”

“I do not.” Christopher said, but he did not lose his assured tone of speech. He looked towards Saxet City and its many high buildings and large walls encasing them. “I do know someone who may be able to assist, though. We will visit him on his ranch, just outside the city borders. He should be able to tell us everything we need to know about this Johan Sommer.”

The two shared a nod and then continued on their journey towards Saxet City, with the misadventures of the Nola Desert out of sight, but not necessarily out of mind…

**********

It was not long before Christopher and Apri arrived at the aforementioned ranch a couple of miles away from Saxet City, where Christopher expected to find his contact. “Bedlam is as cool as they come, Apri. I’ve fought alongside him before and if anyone knows what kind of person we’re dealing with in Johan Sommer, it is going to be him.”

“Where is he?” Christopher asked as he craned his neck around to get a view past the main house on the ranch towards the large barn, where some faint rumbling could be heard. “Let’s go and have a look, Apri.”

With some caution, Christopher and Apri moved closer to the barn and the rumbling they could hear got louder and louder as they did so. Christopher checked out the contents of some crates and sacks before he properly moved in on the barn, but did not find anything of value to dispense into his own inventory. Apri rested on Christopher’s shoulder as Christopher walked closer to the barn, taking careful steps as it seemed that some sort of ruckus was taking place inside. “Bedlam? Are you in there, friend?”

Christopher chose to take another step closer to the main barn door, but it burst open right in front of him! A herd of Saxetan Cows spilled out of the barn in a stampede directly towards Christopher and he dived out of the way to avoid getting trampled.

“DAMN IT!” screamed someone from within the barn after all of the cows had dispersed elsewhere within the boundaries of the ranch, with some even finding a further form of escape from the ranch altogether. Christopher dusted himself off and stood back up and then peered back into the barn to see the man that he was looking for on the ground, with a frayed piece of rope in his hand. “I thought I could hold them all back…”

Despite Bedlam’s plight, Christopher did find some amusement at his situation and it was Christopher’s snickering that alerted Bedlam to his presence. With a pleasantly-surprised expression on his face, Bedlam accepted Christopher’s hand and used it to pull himself up to his feet as well. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here! Howdy!”

“Caught you at a bad time, have I?” Christopher motioned to the piece of rope in Bedlam’s hand; Bedlam was known for his considerable strength, but even he must have known that he could not have physically restrained an entire herd of Saxetan Cows on his own. The beasts were bigger than a man in size, and possessed a very aggressive temperament.

“Not my finest moment, and of course the champion was here to see it! Look, I’d be really happy to catch up, but I can’t get anything else done until I’ve got these cows back in the barn. Do you reckon you could help me round them back up?”

Christopher nodded and agreed to assist Bedlam in locating the missing cows and corralling them back into the barn. The first couple of cows were nearby and within the ranch, but the next few were further away, which made their retrieval progressively more tedious with each cow. Despite the repetitive nature of the task, Christopher did manage to bring each of the missing cows back to the barn and did not actually receive much help from Bedlam in the process. As a result, it took much more time than he wished to commit to something so menial in the first place.

His fungible reward for helping Bedlam out consisted of a small pouch of coins, however what proved more valuable for Christopher was an opportunity to catch up with his hold friend and pick his brain. Bedlam placed a large glass full of brown liquid down on the table in front of Christopher and then sat down opposite him at the kitchen table inside the main ranch house. “I didn’t expect to be having company, so I’m afraid I don’t have anything more to your tastes. It’s strong, but it’s good. Only the best for the best, right?”

“The best. Not exactly what a lot of people are saying right now, is it?” Christopher sighed and then took a swig from his drink and felt the liquid burn the back of his throat, causing him to cough and almost bring his drink back up.

Bedlam laughed. “I told you it was strong! In all seriousness, though, I know what you’re talking about. I heard about what happened in the desert with you and Daniel the Great, he’s been running his mouth and people have been listening. None of it matters, though. You’re our champion and there are still plenty of people that believe it. You’ve got me… the bird, too.”

Motioning to Apri, who was chewing on some seeds, Bedlam grinned to himself and then reached across the table and patted Christopher on the shoulder. “So, don’t beat yourself up. Hell, we all make mistakes from time to time. Plus, I know what those people back in the Nola Desert think of you. You won’t have the same problem in Saxet City, whatever your reason for being here is.

This isn’t what you’re here for though; some words of encouragement from me. If that’s what you needed then you’d have made do with the bird or you’d have visited that necromancer friend of yours. Although, I heard he’d gone into hiding or something?”

Christopher nodded his head, as Bedlam was correct. His emotional support in recent times had come from the person he considered to be his closest friend in all of Fantasia; the necromancer known as Alyster Black. The rancher was also correct in the sense that Alyster had disappeared a few weeks earlier and not left any indication of where he had gone. Even someone as close to Alyster as Christopher was did not know.

“So, what does bring you here to Saxet City, Christopher of Lynbrook?” Bedlam asked as he accepted another mouthful of the strong brown liquid into his mouth.

“Well, I’m here to do the people of Saxet City a favour… I’m here to take care of Johan Sommer.”

As soon as Christopher revealed the name of his target, the alcohol in Bedlam’s mouth was sprayed into the air and across the room. Bedlam wiped his mouth and then looked straight into Christopher’s eyes. “Why on Fantasia would you want to do something like that?”

Christopher could feel the smugness radiating from Apri as Bedlam asked his question, and he paused for thought, which frustrated him. He rose from his seat and paced around Bedlam’s kitchen as he considered whether his response to Apri’s similar line of questioning en route to Saxet City was still appropriate now that Bedlam had raised a similar concern. As Christopher thought about his answer, the time it took caused Bedlam to feel like he needed to back track slightly.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it - you’re the champion of course, no matter what happened before, you’re the champion for a reason! I’m just not quite sure that you realise what you’re getting yourself into, Christopher.

This Sommer, he’s a real piece of work. He rolled into town not too long ago and he’s been accumulating as much gold as he can get his hands on. Don’t let that fool you into thinking that he’s just some sort of common thief, though. No, he’s a very powerful conjurer; able to bring things into existence with a snap of his fingers and he’s got the backing of an even more powerful warlock. Because of that, he acts like he’s got free reign to do and say whatever he wants, to whoever he wants.”

Slowly nodding his head, Christopher rolled a coin between his fingers and considered his options. “So, because of this, people are typically threatened by him? They’re too afraid to do anything about him?”

Bedlam laughed to himself. “No, people stand up to him, alright. Just recently, a few tried to take some of that gold he’d hoarded away from him. A devil worshipper, a celestial dreamcatcher and a young warrior princess. They tried, but none of them lived to tell the tale. I’ve had a couple of run-ins with him, too. Like you, I wasn’t too happy with him taking over the city, so I tried taking some of the gold back too. I fought him, but he got away with the gold before I could take it back. He seemed very desperate.”

“So, he’ll do anything in his power to defend the gold that he already has, but someone like that is always going to want more. They’re desperate to project an image of strength, so what do they do? They make themselves look stronger.”

“Sound familiar?” Apri literally chirped up from his bowl of seeds. Christopher cast him a disapproving look and then returned to his trail of thought.

“There’s nothing wrong with doing that though… unless, you choose to do it at the expense of those weaker than you… because he knows his limit. This Sommer, he’s come here and he’s dominated those he views as beneath him because that is the only way that someone like him can project power. Of course they’re going to look strong, because they back away in the face of a real challenge.

That’s why he didn’t kill you, Bedlam. It is because he knew that he couldn’t. It is quite simple actually; someone who he views as better than him, or even as an equal possibly sometimes… he doesn’t like his odds and he gets away with what he’s already got.”

Christopher sat back down in front of Bedlam and took another sip of the drink in front of him. It did not burn his throat as much the second time but something sweeter still would have been more palatable. “You said that he’s a conjurer, Bedlam. What exactly does he conjure?”

“Well, the powers that this warlock granted him has let him conjure alternate versions of himself. Each one is as much of a bastard as the next. The most seen in one place was ninety-nine different Johan Sommer’s.” Bedlam took another drink himself, seeing it off, and then began to pour himself another. “They’re all vile, they’re all complete and utter bastards, Christopher.”

“I can believe it.” After being duped by Daniel the Great into believing that everyone must have some sort of redeeming quality, Christopher had no issues believing Bedlam’s assessment of Johan Sommer. “I think the key to defeating him is to figure out what he wants, more than anything else in the world. What does someone who hoards power and is despised by all who know him actually want?”

“What he wants is a knife to the throat, how he’s been carrying on.” said Bedlam in a gruff tone of voice as he sank down the entirety of his drink in one go before rising to his feet. “I need to check on those cows. You take as long as you need, Christopher. Good luck with that bastard if that’s what you decide to do.”

“Thank you, Bedlam.” Christopher nodded his head as Bedlam disappeared through the door and into the night. He slowly rose from the kitchen table and looked out the window, considering his next move very carefully. A grin slowly formed on his face as his plan began to formulate in his head.

**********

The next morning, Christopher and Apri emerged from the house on Bedlam’s ranch fully rested. “I don’t understand why we didn’t sneak in during the middle of the night-”

“I thought you believed in me, Apri. You’re starting to sound like there’s reason to be doubting this quest again.” Christopher confidently strode towards the fence surrounding the ranch site and hopped it and walked forwards with Saxet City in his sights. “What’s troubling you about this plan?”

“You don’t appear to have thought about what would happen if things went wrong? You’re charging headfirst into this in a very public way. If this backfires, what is everyone going to think?” Apri was out of breath as he flapped his wings to keep up with Christopher and then he eventually managed to land on his shoulder. “You’re going to offer to work for him? I don’t understand how that is going to work!”

“What does a man like that want, Apri? He wants power and he wants recognition. How much power will someone feel knowing they’ve got the champion of the world in the palm of their hand?

As for the recognition, well, he must know that everybody hates him and it has got to be tearing him up inside that’s how everyone feels. So what if I help convince people otherwise? If the champion says that he’s not so bad, then that might change a few minds.

I haven’t considered what happens if the plan doesn’t work, because it is going to. I don’t see any reason for him to reject my offer for his help. After all, I’m the wounded and embarrassed champion after all of that with Daniel. I need to stop my stock from falling, and he will see the chance to use me to make his rise. After all, if he wants more gold, I’ve got some right here for him.”

Christopher glanced back at his sword and reached over his head to pat the blade on his back. Apri still seemed hesitant. “Then what happens? You get close enough to him after gaining his trust and then kill him.”

“Precisely.”

The duo reached the main gate to Saxet City and watched as a hatch opened up next to the door and a pair of eyes appeared. They were a piercing blue colour and narrowed quickly when they spotted Christopher standing in front, who quickly waved before lowering his hand. “Good day, I am Christopher of Lynbrook and I am here to discuss a business opportunity with Johan Sommer. Will you open the gate?”

“What kind of opportunity?” The voice belonging to the owner of the piercing blue eyes was intense and intimidating at the same time.

“Well, I was hoping to assist him with his gold situation.” With a knowing grin, Christopher motioned to his sword on his back and then the grin became a smirk when the gate swung open. “Thank you.”

Saxet City was vastly different to the tight knit community that was Lynbrook and the sparse landscapes of the Nola Desert. It was an almost futuristic metropolis with high buildings and plenty of propelled vehicles. Christopher marvelled at the sight in front of him for a moment, as this was all he was afforded as he was immediately grabbed by both arms by city guards. “What’s going on?”

Apri flew away from Christopher’s shoulder as the latter looked from his left to his right to see that the two guards holding him shared the same piercing blue eyes as the gatekeeper. Their faces were completely identical, with sharp features and platinum blond hair. It did not take long for Christopher to realise that he was being manhandled by two of the conjured additional versions of Johan Sommer.

As Christopher was dragged towards a waiting transport, he looked at the faces of the onlookers; the citizens of Saxet City. All forced to live under the tyrannical rule of Sommer, hating him and not being able to do anything about their situation. To them, Christopher would have been a beacon of hope. The disappointment in their faces caused Christopher’s confidence to falter. What he was watching was the fading of belief in him.

After being bundled into the vehicle, Christopher sat in silence as he was taken deeper into the city. Signage pointed towards a large fortress at its centre, and after turning a corner, Christopher looked down the road ahead and saw the impressive structure in all of its glory. More guards at the entrance waved the transport through, and Christopher noted that they also possessed the same facial features and characteristics of the others he had already encountered.

Inside the fortress and under escort after leaving the vehicle, Christopher saw even more of the conjurations; dozens of them. Each wore the same look of vitriol. Despite having access to everything they could ever need and much more, they were not content. They were not happy with their fill. A few glanced at Christopher’s sword as he passed them, and he noticed the cold, piercing eyes brighten momentarily as they did.

Christopher was brought into a room inside the base and thrown to the floor. He dusted himself off and stood up, grateful to have not been relieved of his sword. The room was nothing more than a makeshift prison cell and Christopher decided that he would simply sit and wait. The uncomfortable chair was his waiting place of choice over the even more uncomfortable bed.

Unsurprisingly, Christopher was left waiting for hours, or what felt like it anyway. Eventually though, the door of the cell slammed open and Christopher looked up to see another identically conjured guard beckoning him. The guard motioned with his hand for him to rise and then walked down the corridor in the opposite direction from where Christopher came. The guard kept his back turned on Christopher as Christopher followed him up a steep staircase where a large set of stone doors waited.

The doors opened and the guard led Christopher into what could be best described as a throne room, although it was actually technically outside due to the lack of walls on each side and a full ceiling. Light poured in from the open walls and the sky and Christopher noticed a figure standing behind the throne at the back of the room. The guard shouted from behind Christopher, “Presenting, Christopher of Lynbrook.”

The figure next to the throne nodded their head and made a small gesture with their hand and the guard shoved Christopher in the back to move him forward. Christopher considered attacking the guard out of sheer principle, but thought better of it. The guard remained a couple of paces behind Christopher as they approached the throne. The closer they got to it, the clearer it became to Christopher that the person situated next to it was the original Johan Sommer. Dressed from head to toe in a gold tunic, Sommer seemed very please to see that Christopher was present in his hall.

“Christopher of Lynbrook! You didn’t really think that I didn’t already know you were going to come here for me?” Sommer was very confident and sure of himself, and Christopher raised an eyebrow at this. “It must really bother you how predictable others find you, mustn’t it?”

Sommer walked down the steps away from the throne and got closer to Christopher, but still positioned himself above him so he could literally and metaphorically look down on him. “After Daniel the Great made a fool of you, it would only follow that you would find a way to repair your image one way or another, especially as you are so utterly reviled in the Nola Desert.

Who is better than me? It is no secret that I am not a popular man here in Saxet City. You can reclaim some of that pride of yours and also make yourself a hero in the eyes of the people. That’s what you want, isn’t it? The love and affection of strangers?”

Christopher did not answer the question immediately, which caused Sommer to feel even more superior. “As for me, well I’ll be honest with you… it would be nice if I wasn’t so despised. The thing is, people are going to hate me no matter what I say or do and most of them aren’t able to say why they actually do hate me. Please, tell me what I have done wrong by simply being better than everyone else? Am I not supposed to realise my full potential, just because most people are too scared to do what they need to do to get ahead in this world and have problems with people who just say it like it is?”

“How is it, exactly?” hissed Christopher.

“How it is… is that those brave enough to seize what they want are the true elites in this world, Christopher. When I see something that I want, I take it, no questions asked. I do not take ‘no’ for an answer, Christopher. Where others bend to the wills of the masses for acceptance, I spit in their faces. Such trivialities have not interested me in a long time, and there is nothing in whatever plan you had for proposing a sham partnership with me that could have changed that.

Therefore your plan to take me down is just like your reign as champion, Christopher… dead in the water. So, why don’t we just skip ahead to the part where you give me what I want, what you promised the Lord Warlock a long time ago, and you give me that gold?

I could take it by force, but I think it would mean much more if you willingly cede it to me now.”

Sommer extended a hand and slowly opened it, motioning for Christopher to place the sword in it. Christopher reached back over his shoulder and placed his hand on the hilt of his golden sword. He slowly unsheathed it and put it on his hands, ready to hand it over to Sommer. Christopher looked down at the sword and then halted his progress and he looked up into Sommer’s face.

“You have been smarter than me, Johan. You knew that I needed something to redeem myself and restore my worth in the eyes of the people and you perfectly positioned yourself to be that person, all to draw me here so I could submit to you. I admit it, you deserve a lot of credit and you should be commended for achieving your goals after setting your mind to them. Not everyone in the world gets to say that they’ve done that. We’re alike in that way.”

Christopher narrowed his eyes then drew the sword back further into his possession. “There’s something that you haven’t realised though. Having gold does not make you a champion, Johan. It does not matter how much gold you have, because what makes someone a champion is not something you can touch. It is something that lives inside of you, in your heart.

It is that drive to constantly challenge yourself and to try and be better. You are no champion, Johan. Bullying those you feel weaker than yourself and showing no respect to anyone are not qualities of a champion. It does not surprise me that you have continually faltered against those that others regard as better than you. You crave to find yourself in the same conversations as the other great warriors of Fantasia. All you have sought to overcome to reach that upper echelon have defeated you when it really mattered; Gabrielle, Michael and of course my very good friend, the necromancer Alyster Black.”

Sommer’s lip furled as Christopher recounted some of his past failures that Bedlam had informed him of overnight. “You are the perfect person for me to defeat in order to correct my own course, but the only way that I would have been able to defeat you is to convince you that I would represent a certain victory for you, Johan. Why else would you consider facing me? You see, I am on that upper level of warrior that you wish to be a part of, Johan. One defeat does not change that, regardless of how soul crushing it was.

I am still the man who slew The Golden One and defeated both The Bandit Queen and The Watcher. One ill-fated run-in with Daniel the Great does not change any of that. I do not need to defeat you in order to prove myself to anyone, Johan. I need to defeat you because maybe then you can finally realise your place in this world. Weaselling your way through life using shady means and all of the help you can get will only get you so far. It will not bring you what you seek.

You see, when someone ascends to a position of power without actually working for it, they become complacent. You think yourself untouchable and it makes you careless. I was careless against Daniel the Great. You have been careless too against me today. Careless enough to let the most dangerous warrior in the world walk into your base without taking his sword away from him.”

Sommer’s eyes widened as Christopher then took his sword and swung it towards the guard behind him and the conjuration immediately disappeared in a *POP*, with red smoke appearing from where he once stood. Christopher turned back towards the original Sommer, who hid behind the throne after scurrying up the steps. He snapped his fingers as many times as he could, causing all of the conjured guards from within the city to appear in the throne room.

Christopher closed his eyes and imagined some music playing in his head before he opened his eyes again and saw that the guards were rushing towards him. “One down, ninety-eight to go.”

Christopher charged towards the oncoming guards and drove his sword straight into the chest of the first - *POP* - and then took the head straight off of the second and third with one stroke - *POP* *POP*. He weaved through swathes of attacks and then sliced through the midsections of another four guards as he ran past whilst avoiding their own strikes - *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP*.

With the guards swarming on him, all sharing the power of Johan Sommer, Christopher continued to hack and slash his way through them.

*POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP*
*POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP*

None of the guards thought to ask for mercy from Christopher. Instead, they all met their fates one at a time in pursuit of a hopeless endeavour.

*POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP*

What all of them failed to comprehend was that in the end, they were just not good enough to compete with the greatest warrior in the world.

*POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP* *POP*

As the last of the ninety-seven guards burst into a cloud of smoke, Christopher lowered his sword and took a deep breath. Despite emerging with his life intact from the outnumbering, he knew that he had been in a fight. He allowed the sword to drag along the floor as he grew closer to the throne where he saw that Johan Sommer was standing in waiting for him.

The champion of Fantasia watched as Sommer slowly walked down the steps and Christopher then picked up the sword and started running towards him. Sommer went to snap his fingers to conjure further versions of himself, but Christopher sliced straight through his wrist with the sword! Sommer groaned as he looked down at his disembodied hand. In a fit of anger, Sommer lunged for Christopher with his other hand, but Christopher caught it and then drove the sword straight into his gut.

Blood spattered out of Sommer’s mouth and he dropped to his knees. Christopher remembered finding himself in a similar position with Daniel the Great, just before he allowed him to leave. “If you were in my position, what would you do, Sommer? I could kill you and make sure that you don’t ever get to hurt anyone again, but that’s what you would do, isn’t it?”

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer from Sommer, who was more concerned with the gaping wound in his stomach.

“I could let you go, though. I could hope that you would learn from the error of your ways and actually do some good in this world. Maybe even make reparations for those that you have wronged in your time here. What do you think about that?”

Sommer slowly looked up with a desperate look in the piercing blue eyes that usually wrought fear and loathing on all those that looked into them. In Christopher’s case, they brought amusement at that moment. “Oh, who am I kidding? What did showing mercy get me last time? I’ll be seeing you in hell, because I might just be a bit more like you than I realise... you bastard.”

Christopher raised the sword and then brought it down directly into Sommer’s chest and watched as the life drained out of the man who had terrorised so many for so long. It took Christopher a moment to consider what his actions actually meant and immediately he wondered how killing this bastard would actually change the state of the world, if it even would. For Christopher, it meant one less threat to his claim of being the greatest warrior in the world. One less pretender to claim that they deserved to be in his spot.

For he was the champion of the world and he realised what it meant. It meant becoming the measuring stick for others. Who deserved to ascend to that upper echelon of greatness was determined by how they fared against him. Christopher knew long before killing Johan Sommer that Sommer did not belong in that bracket and as long as he continued relying on the technicalities brought on by others instead of his own abilities and strength, that would always be the case.

Christopher knew that where Johan Sommer once stood, another would take his place. Another would soon want to prove themselves against him. Another who was waiting, and watching.

A tired Christopher sat down on the throne, and he appreciated the irony of the symbolism this provided. The champion of the world, sat atop a throne not as a braggadocious sign of status, but simply to have a rest. However, as he had already come to realise, there was no rest for the wicked.

The ground began to rumble from underneath him and Christopher immediately snapped out of his relaxation to see that the floor of the throne room was being disturbed from below and a large tentacle burst from below, shattering the floor and sending rubble in multiple directions. Several more tentacles appeared and protruded from the ground and Christopher’s heart sank as he immediately recognised the gargantuan eight-tentacled being which emerged from the fissure.

“I told you that you’d never escape us, Christopher… we’re destined to do this dance over and over again for all of eternity across this galaxy and the next.”

Octillian the Dread rose high above the ground, breaking through what was left of the incomplete ceiling after the initial breach had damaged it. Christopher saw that there were dozens of others accompanying Octillian from the depths and they all began to advance towards him and Christopher slowly raised his sword in defiance towards the approaching group. It was time to take something for himself…

**********

“What are you playing?” Alyster asked as he entered the room, rubbing a towel against his hair, fresh from a shower. He had heard Chris shouting and laughing from in the living room over the sound of the water and was intrigued as to what could have elicited such responses from his long-time tag team partner. “You’re being really loud, mate.”

“Sorry! My bad…” Chris responded without taking his eyes off of the screen as the next fight scene was about to commence on his first playthrough of ‘Flight of the Peacock 2’. Alyster walked up behind Chris on the sofa to look at the television which was on a stand surrounded by replicas of all of the FWA championships that Chris had amassed during his career.

“This is what retirement looks like?”

Alyster asked the question with a touch of jealousy in his voice; after achieving almost everything that one could in the FWA, Peacock had called it quits. “Yeah, doing stuff with Allen keeps me busy enough, though. After the movie and the first game did so well, he’s keen to just keep the brand growing as much as he can. My job for now though is just to kick back and enjoy myself. I’ve done the hard work. This thing is great, I just killed this dickhead that’s supposed to be Shawn Summers.”

“Shame I missed it.” Alyster said as he settled down on the sofa next to Chris. He did not want to ask Chris to move when in his own apartment, even though he was sitting on Alyster’s temporary bed. “What’s next?”

Chris turned to Alyster and grinned before returning his gaze to the screen in front of him.

“Nephews.”

“Ohh…” Alyster leaned in slightly closer as he watched Octillian taunt Christopher with his two minions and saw the anticipation on Chris’s face as he prepared for the upcoming fight. “This thing got a co-op mode?”

Chris grinned and picked up his other Xbox controller and he placed it in Alyster’s hand.

“Oh hell yeah, son.”​

 

[Jimmy King]

Space Bounty Hunters
Starring Jason Randall
with Marcus McClain, Harry the Sane Wizard, and Quiet


“Are you sure this is a good idea”

Penny asked Jason during their Facetime call as Jason sat inside a version of the Octopi. Jason had been aboard the Octopi, along with Marcus and a few other Nephews.

“What are you wearing?”

"It's a tracksuit; it's what they like to wear in the Nephews."

"Are you serious about this? Are you serious about joining them?"

"I think so; what have I got to lose?”

"I don't know, but can you trust them?"

"I trust Marcus, but I don't know many of the others yet. Well, besides Thomas and Quiet."

"Quiet, what's his deal? Is he a mute?"

”Ask him yourself. He's in the room with me right now."

Jason moves the phone around to show Penny that Quiet is sitting in the room with him.

”Uh, hi?”

”... …”

"He said nice to meet you.”

"What? He didn’t say a word!”

The door to the room opens up, and Marcus is standing in the doorway.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Uncle wants to meet with us."

"Alright, well, I have to go, but I'll talk to you later."


▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃


”Hello Nephews, and hello my NIT!”

Uncle is not on the ship with them; instead, he's talking to them virtually while on a big screen projected on the ship.

”NIT? What’s a NIT?”

Randall inquires and looks over at Marcus for help.

”Nephew in training.”

"Yes, I thought it was appropriate for the time being until you become a full-fledged Nephew."

”.... ….”

"I agree, Quiet, he does have great Nephew potential, and he'll be a splendid addition to our crew!"

”What’s the assignment today, Uncle?”

"Today's adventure should be simple enough, and it's something our NIT has some experience in."

”What’s that?”

”Bounty hunting! Space bounty hunting, to be more specific. I've arranged for Quiet and Harry to tag along and assist on this adventure."

"The targets are located on a planet called Hemmlock in the Judelock sector."

”Who are the targets?”

”Sisters Claire and Belestia Sparrowoak. They won't be alone; however, an eccentric but dimwitted young woman named Mitzi will tag along with them."

"Do we capture them and bring them back here?"

"If you can capture them, then yes, bring them back. If you cannot capture them, then don't worry about it."

”Sounds easy enough.”

"I won't be joining you for this adventure as I have other stuff to tend to, but I trust that Quiet and Harry will take the lead on this adventure. With that, good luck and happy hunting!"

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

”Nice landing Harry.”

”Thank you Marcus!”

”.... …. …. …. ….”


"You're right, Quiet; we have landed in a forest-like area in the Judelock sector of this planet. Perhaps we make our way through this forest and reach our destination where these witch sisters reside."

”Witch sisters, you say?”

”Who said that?”

”Show yourself!”

A mysterious cloaked figure emerges from some shrubbery in the forest and approaches the group. To his right is a man in a cloak, but a demonic skull mask covers his face.

"Calm yourself; we mean you no harm. I am The Light Protector, and this is my associate, The Deadly Traveler."

”Does he talk?”

"He does not speak. I am here to speak on his behalf."

”What are you doing here in this forest?”

"We were in search of the Sparrowoak sisters, and along our way, I couldn't help but overhear you are also searching for these sisters."

”What business do you have with these sisters?”

"I'm afraid I can't divulge that information. I could ask the same of you, but I'd probably get the same answer."

”You’d be right.”

"Well then, perhaps we could join you on your journey and assist you in whatever business it is you have with these sisters."

”I don’t think that’s necessary.”

”Please, reconsider. We could cover more ground if we work together."

”The answer is no.”

Randall stands his ground as The Deadly Traveler towers over him, but The Light Protector holds him back.

”Very well then.”

The Protector and The Traveler went back from whence they came, and the group of Nephews continued on their way.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The Nephews trek through the forest, and they stop in their tracks when they hear the sound of faint rambling. They walk toward the sound and find a man in a light blue suit and cape around his neck sitting in a tree. The man appears to be talking to himself in what sounds like gibberish.

"Hello up there, do you think you could help us? I’m afraid that we’re lost”

”Lost? We're all a little lost, aren't we?"

”What are you talking about?”

"We're all lost in our dreams, but know that the dream will never end."

"Seriously, can you help us or not? We're trying to find the Sparrowoak sisters and Mitzi Mordeaux."

" If you travel yonder, you may find these birdwood sisters you speak of and their little friend. They're just beyond these trees in the castle where Saint Hemmlock used to reside before Queen Leah took over."

”Are you sure we can trust him?”

"Trust me if you must but never stop dreaming."

"This guy has lost it. Let's try to go beyond these trees like he said."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The Nephews get past the trees and reach Castle Sulley, but it looks abandoned. There is no sign of the Sparrowoak sisters or Mitzi Mordeaux.

”This is it but this place looks deserted!”

”It is deserted. The sisters and their friend vanished from this place once they were aware of you coming their way."

”What? How long have you been following us? Did you give them a heads-up?"

"They vanished because myself and my Deadly Traveler got here before you and defeated them."

”What?! You bastards! That was our bounty!"

"You were too lost and too preoccupied with that half-wit over there that we made it here before you and finished the job ourselves."

Randall doesn't want to hear another word and charges toward The Protector and The Traveler, but soon they are gone with nothing but a cloud of smoke where they once stood.

”This is all your fault!”

Randall turns around and angrily points at the rambling man.

"If we hadn't wasted time listening to your gibberish, we would've got here on time."

"Um, actually, I think they were tipped off long before we arrived on this planet. According to what I'm reading here, the sisters and their friend have vanished off the face of the cosmos."

Harry shows Randall his device, and Randall reads it before looking back at the rambling man, but now he's gone too.

"Well, we didn't get our bounty; what now?"

”Back to the Octopi!”

"How'd you like your first space bounty hunt?"

"Not bad, I guess. It didn't make sense, but it wasn't bad." ​

 

[Death Walker]

For What Comes Next…

The irritating chirps of crickets… flow across a field of… dirt. Draped in darkness… with the glimmer from the stars, the demon from HELL struggles with a certain task. He growls calmly while breathing hard and putting his hands as well as the rest of his body to use. With an ax in his grasp, he chops at the side of a tree over and over. Suddenly someone or something lurks up on The Dark Traveler and he stops when he notices the presence…

The Dark Guardian: “...I- Ok, I admit this feels like more setbacks as we work hard to accomplish our ever changing objectives. And that may be the bigger problem amongst others.”

The Death Walker turns his head and tales a glance over his shoulder. He gives a minute for his guardian to tell him something beneficial. However, he's not actually in the mood to hear too much from anyone.

TDG: “The rage continues to burn… good. We need it to steadily burn inside you like an everlasting flame. Like the-”

And just then, Death pulls his ax from a nearby tree stump and continues to chop down the remaining trees.

TDG: “Alright enough sugar coating and pussyfooting around it, we made it to dance… AGAIN and tripped all over our feet. We had it all mapped out and yet you still ended up flat on your face- well, your back. We just have too much shit to take care of, inside and outside of your professional wrestling career. We’ve tried to attack it all with unrelenting aggression but there lies a significant part of the problem. Even with being one of the best assassins in this world, we need to take a more subtle approach towards gaining victories. We're a few levels below the top, taking care of problems that some would deem minimal based on their current achievements in FWA.”

Death Walker once again stops what he’s doing and looks over at The Dark Guardian. He dusts off his hands, stepping into the moonlight and still in the same attire that he wrestles in.

TDG: “We need to simply focus on one thing at a time. We will have more time and opportunities to prove that you are the best. The Golden Opportunity will be another chance to show the world just how determined you are. However… right now, we have something else to take care of that will have our full attention as you go into this next match. A trios tag match against The Coven and Trixie Bordeaux…”

The Dark Guardian pauses to capture his demon’s reaction before continuing to speak. Walker just stares off into the empty dark field as his left eye slightly twitches.

TDG: “...Yes, yes… new victims to punish along with Ms. Bordeaux. And the answer to your question is still no, My Lord, it is not time. But more importantly, I need you to concentrate on beating this team especially given the teammates you have.”

Death tightens his fists and growls low without breaking his bizarre stare.

TDG: “I’m just going to say their names… Jason Randall… and XYZ. I know, I know but like I said before you need to concentrate on the other team not your disdain for your teammates. My Lord, I-”

The Death Walker steps up to The Dark Guardian and puts a finger up to his lips to silent the advisor. Then the demonic hybrid walks back to the compound but The Dark Guardian goes back to talking.

TDG: “One thing at a time, Death Walker! You're going to have to control your rage, just long enough to help pick up the win. And I know you're capable of doing that, it's all about making the wiser choice. Do not attack Randall or XYZ, do not put all your attention on Trixie only but The Coven as well. They also possess their own powers being witches and all. So we cannot dismiss them so easily and there's no doubt that their tenacious leader, Kleio De Santos will be close by. I’m just not sure what she could be up to other than assisting the sisters in winning. So yeah there's that additional piece to keep in mind along with everything else.”

The Dark Traveler shoves his way through the garage side door and enters his lair as his followers curiously watch. When The Dark Guardian comes in from behind their Lord, the Terrors of Darkness return to their conversations.

TDG: “Now if you can finally handle your business with California’s Criminal Council then you can move on to other matters. It’s been a few weeks since you battered Black Iris and stripped away her soul. Death? DEATH?!”

And as one of the Terrors of Darkness hooked the dark warrior’s cloak around his neck and another handed the keys to his truck, The Dark Guardian got face to face with the demon.

TDG: “Finish this now and we'll get back to fixing anything that comes up later. Take a look around, our numbers have grown some more. We have at least a hundred devoted disciples and counting. It is no longer me and you in this quest for a world drenched in pure darkness. You just need to give out orders and we can handle the rest. So My Lord, are you sure that you don't require the services of your Terrors of Darkness or myself for the meeting?”

The Soul Collector does a brief head shake to respond with disapproval. He walks over to the cage sitting in the center of his lair and he caresses the bars of the cage. A bloodied and beaten woman trembles at the presence of this creature that stole her dignity. Then within a blink of an eye, the demon’s hand clutches her throat and she attempts to scream out. But as she tries, the tighter Death chokes her…

TDG: “My Lord don't kill her, you were going to return her back to the Council in person. Remember? The meeting? The message? You don't have to resort to killing for this, just have a chit chat with these figureheads. Terrors! Release the prisoner… and cuff her for transport!”

2 of the Terrors of Darkness unlock Iris from the cage then snatch her out.

Iris: “No, no, no, no, no, noooooo! NOOOOOOOOO GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!!!”

They lay her face down in the dirt with one of them kneeling on her back then cuff both ankles and wrists. The Terrors lift her up off the ground and Death takes her by the arm. He looks deep in her eyes and communicates without using any words or gestures. Feeling the horror from Death Walker’s gaze, Black Iris immediately cooperates with a spooked look upon her face. Death starts pulling her arm as they exit to where the truck is. He leads her over to his truck, opens the driver's door and tosses her over onto the passenger's side. Then he hops in and cranks up the engine…


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


After some hours of driving in utter silence, the black F-150 stops out in front of an old abandoned… cathedral? Death scoffs at the thought of this being triple C’s base of operations. But with a roll of his eyes, he hops out of his truck then reaches over and pulls a softened Iris out as well. Having her lead the way into her headquarters, Death holds her by the hair. They enter through the front doors and walk along a dark entrance with the moon shining through windows in the nave and transept. They take their time walking down the center of the nave then the transept where a flawlessly marble altar sits in the apse. Iris gets closer to the altar as Walker scans the areas for cameras and foes. Death tugs at Black Iris’ hair and she feels under the top of the altar for something. She hits a switch which lowers the altar with the floor that they stand on. She goes to run as they are brought into an underground war room. However with the evil entity gripping her hair tighter, a boisterous male voice greets them from out of the distance.

???: “Welcome… Death Walker, is it? Or… is it, Darius Wright?”

The Death Walker looks over at a long wooden oval table surrounded in darkness and a spotlight positioned over it. In Death's own vision, he can easily spot the seven figures sitting at the table in the dark. Although instead of getting fully clear and colored images of each individual, this time he gets a full detailed laser-like outline of the gauntlet members.

???: “Don't worry about what my name is, it doesn't matter at the moment. But I'm sure you got quite acquainted with our Black Iris. If you don't mind, releasing her?”

He pushes her in the direction of the voice and other Council members as he keeps his eyes on anything in sight. Iris damn near trips over her shackled feet as she walks over to her fellow associates.

???: “Oh poor dear… you were pretty tough on our delicate but lethal flower. But to get some context between us and with your limited speech these days, let's have a little chat about things here in Southern California. Shall we?”

While the male voice was talking, one of the members freed Iris from the pairs of cuffs. She goes to lunge over at The Death Walker who is 15 feet away from them but the member holds her back.

Iris: “YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SOUL?”

???: “Your soul? Yes, what did you do to her soul? I mean she still has that spunk in her but we all can sense her missing parts of herself. This is not the same rambunctious woman that is a dangerous threat to all who she crosses paths with… This woman is… is… just a woman. We must know, how did you change her? How did you remove her killer instinct?... How did you take away her fighting spirit? Hmm?”

The Dark Traveler growls out in response to the same yet different questions.

???: “Please come forward, Darius, I mean Death… Walker. Come right over so we can get a good look at this ‘King of Los Angeles’ as you’ve called yourself for years.”

Death Walker obliges and walks over but still maintains at least 4 feet from this end of the table as a set of black and gold gauntlets slam with the fingers interlocked from the opposite end of the table. Irritation begins to build inside the dark menace but he remains calm… for now.

???: “So like I said, we'll keep this discussion short so we can get back to our regular lives. You have obliterated Freak Show, drained Black Iris of her… ‘essence’ and now have waltz into our home like you bought the place. Which I know that you could if you wanted to but that's besides the point. Because the point is… WE RUN CALIFORNIA AND EVERYTHING IN IT, NOT… you. This council has been a secret organization only known by its lore… and you think you can dismantle it just by returning from a hole in your home’s basement, slap a mask on and act out this role of an indestructible monster in human form?! No, my good sir. It isn't that easy because you see, we are all dangerous people in this room. The most dangerous ones to keep order in California. Now we had no problem when you first used to run LA but then you vacated your spot as ruler. And then you badly injure not one but two of our members and then tell us… TELL US?! You… you tell us how to operate our business and that Los Angeles is yours now?!?”

Death doesn't blink as he stares at the black and gold gauntlets, taking slow deep breaths and subtly growling. He doesn't make any sudden movements as the gears in his head wind round and round. Instead of reacting in his usual abrasive manner, The Dark Traveler cycles through different ideas and plans of action.

???: “Ok… so how about this? How about we give you two options?... Option number 1, you surrender over LA, gather up all your flunkies and leave the hood for good. Or… option number 2, we will give you that territory to rule and protect it in whatever way you see fit… BUT… we will still have power over what happens in California as it pertains to Los Angeles county. Meaning that we would relinquish most of the power to you, we will get final say over anything we decide to be a part of. And we will be reaching out to you and your consultant… for every single solitary thing deemed urgent. And… you don't want to know what happens if you ever disappoint us. So what will it be… 1 or 2?”

Death instantly gives them all one finger and yes that means the middle one. But then, he holds up the index finger too for his definitive choice…

???: “Alright so 2? Are you sure? Are you certain now or do you want to flip us off some more? Now that you've acted like a grown ass man again… you can return from which you came. Goodbye… Death Walker.”

Death Walker backs up into the velvety smooth darkness and climbs back on the lift with the altar on it. Thinking as the Council sends the lift up, he sees the benefit of focusing on the main objective versus juggling several at the same time. He continues to think as he heads back to his truck and drives home. The Death Walker recalls the advice his guardian shared with him. He thinks about the Ravenwood sisters with their magical connection then he thinks about whether or not it's time for Trixie Bordeaux… Driving all alone on a dark highway, he thinks about how badly he wants to hurt both Jason Randall and XYZ. Then he thinks about working as a team to actually win together… but he instantly thinks about all the pain that he wants to cause to his… “teammates”.

​

 

[weaselperson]

The Connection.
a partnering sim.

Spoiler: the absolutely useless text version

VAR ambition = 0
VAR charisma = 0
VAR deception = 0
VAR determination = 0
VAR flexibility = 0
VAR instinct = 0
VAR luck = 0
VAR reliability = 0
VAR selfcare = 0
VAR toughness = 0

VAR ambitiontweet = 0
VAR charismatweet = 0
VAR deceptiontweet = 0
VAR determinationtweet = 0
VAR flexibilitytweet = 0
VAR instincttweet = 0
VAR lucktweet = 0
VAR reliabilitytweet = 0
VAR selfcaretweet = 0
VAR toughnesstweet = 0

VAR daycount = 0

-> start
=== start

Saturday, May 13, 2023. Evening.
* [continue]
-
The first match on Fallout has wrapped up, and you beam on your way backstage, slapping hands as to make your way up the ramp.
* [continue]
-
You’re the new number one contender to the FWA World Tag Team Championships, and in just two matches, you have the chance of ending the reign of one of the greatest tag teams in FWA history. You're Makima Snowmantashi. The Last Twinkle in the Sky. The Final Gift of the 2nd Millenium. The Idol. The Best Joshi in the World.
* [continue]
-
Many people would be daunted by such a challenge, but you have no such fear. Not only do you have no such fear, but you’re thrilled at the opportunity. You remember your checklist - accomplish every single thing that Ryan Rondo has accomplished in the FWA. Live up to his legacy. Ryan Rondo would not have any hesitation facing off with The Connection.
* [continue]
-
And in that legacy, there are two FWA World Tag Team Championship reign, featuring two of the greatest tag teams ever. Sunrise Sunset and TxR. Now that you’d secured the opportunity, you merely needed to find who would be the Devin Golden to your Ryan Rondo. The one worthy of being a champion with you.
* [continue]
-
While you’re smacking hands with fans, considering this decision you'll have to make, one of them grabs your wrist. An old crone. Not a sight you often see in a wrestling crowd.
* “Let go, hag!”
* “SECURITY!”
* You try to punch her.
You quickly realize that it doesn’t matter what you do, certainly not in this instance: she will not let go, and nothing can stop her. You look around and the sound of the crowd has died down. No one is moving. It is only you, and the hag. It's as if time itself has stopped for everyone but the two of you.
-
* [continue]
-
THE HAG - “Makima Snowmantashi, you have a monumental challenge in front of you.”
* [continue]
-
“What is this? What did you do? And let go of me!” You try to pull away, but she's got the tightest grip in the world.
* [continue]
-
THE HAG - “NO! Listen. Eleven nights will pass, and then you will face The Connection for the FWA World Tag Team Championship.”
* [continue]
-
“I know that already. Do you take me for an idiot?”
* [continue]
-
THE HAG - “Be quiet! Until then, you will find many people who will appear to you as possibilities to be a partner. If you want to defeat Gerald and Michelle, you need to build your Connection with these individuals. Tell them what they wish to hear. Give them a chance. Earn their trust. Build a strong enough Connection, and you may find them stepping to your side for your fated showdown. But remember, you have plenty of candidates to be your partner and only so much time. You must choose the right person. A Connection strong enough to overcome The Connection. Or all is lost.”
* [continue]
-
She lets go of you, and in that same moment, you blink. When you open your eyes again, she is gone, and the crowd cheers on. It could have been all in your imagination, but you've seen too many bizarre things to be sure. You look around to see if anyone seems odd but not long enough to be sure, then hurry off backstage.
* Later that night[.], you go to sleep thinking of the possibilities that lay directly ahead for you. Life comes at you fast. You hadn't imagined how quickly you'd come to getting gold in the FWA. You were confident, prone to egomania, and had succeeded in many places, but you were still making sure to manage your expectations. But now, you couldn't help but dream of all that you could accomplish here.
-
* [continue]
-
It’s the night of Back in Business. You’ll be defending your newly won FWA World Tag Team Championships in the main event, and with a victory, you know you’ll be making a massive leap towards your ambition of living up to the legacy of the Last Star in the Sky, Ryan Rondo. You turn to your right, to see who your partner is, the Golden to your Rondo, the second half of the Sunrise Sunset.
* [continue]
-
??? - “Twinkle, you seem aware, are you?”
* [continue]
-
“The Uncle,” you say. J.J. JAY! Member of the Nephews. One of the two who helped you win the eight man melee to get a shot. You might owe him thanks, but that doesn't mean you'll give it. You didn't ask for his help. You did ask for Harry's help though, although it hadn't been intended to carry onto the match itself.
* [continue]
-
J.J. JAY! - “Just Uncle is fine.”
* [continue]
-
“Absurd, I have one Uncle. You can be The Uncle.”
* [continue]
-
J.J. JAY! - “Suit yourself, Twinkle. You should call Dreamer The Dreamer too. It'll bother her.”
* [continue]
-
“Why are you here? You couldn't possibly be my partner, could you. You don’t… fit.”
* [continue]
-
J.J. JAY! - “I don’t? You’re right, I don’t. I’d be an awful partner for you. You want the spotlight, and I instantly attract any spotlight to myself.”
* [continue]
-
“You wouldn’t outshine me! I'm the Idol!”
* [continue]
-
J.J. JAY! - “Yes, but you are but a Twinkle. I am as a sun. So, to your statement that I wouldn't outshine you, I say... wouldn’t I?”
* [continue]
-
An array of spotlights in the sky center solely on The Uncle. You don't know where they came from, they're blinding. And given this is a dream, you know there's no need to think too much of its source.
* [continue]
-
“Don't manipulate my dreams, you usurper.”
* [continue]
-
J.J. JAY! - “Usurper? No, it's more like an incepter. You're not focusing on the right thing. I'm here to help you, Twinkle. Let's focus on the bigger picture. You need a partner for your affair with my dearest Nephews: Dreamer and GG.”
-
* “And why would you help me?” -> unclehelpme -> uncleenough
* “I can take care of that myself. I know plenty of people who would LOVE to team with me.” -> unclelove -> uncleenough
* “I’m dreaming aren’t I? You should get out of my dreams. No one takes my spotlight in MY dreams.” -> uncledreams -> uncleenough

= unclehelpme

* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - “Because the Connection needs a challenge, and I’d like to see someone rise up to that challenge. It was only one match... okay, part of one, but I have an eye for talent. Besides, we're goldensiblings. I think you can give them a fight… so long as you choose the right ally.”
-
* [continue]
-
“Are you going to offer up one of your Nephews to be my ally then, if not you?”
* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - “My Nephews? Well, sure, if you can convince them. I don’t think that’d be the best decision though.”
->->

= unclelove
* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - “Oh, I have no doubt, Nephew.”
-
* “I’m not your Nephew.”
-
* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - “Not yet, sure.”
-
* “Not ever.”
-
J.J. JAY! - “I know many people who believed they’d never do a thing, and here in some weeks, Michelle will face Snowmantashi once again. Never say never, there is no greater wisdom than that, dear Twinkle.”
->->

= uncledreams
* [continue]
He ignores you, and starts to sing.
J.J. JAY! - “In dreams, I walk with you.”
-
* “Get out!”
-
* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - “In dreams, I talk with you.”
-
*“Give me my spotlight back!”
-
* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - “In dreams, you’re mine all of the time.”
-
*“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
-
* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - “We’re together, in dreams, in dreams.”
->->

= uncleenough
-
* [continue]
-
“Enough, The Uncle,” you say, wanting no more of his oddity.
* [continue]
-
J.J. JAY! - “Agh. The Uncle. It really doesn't have a good ring to it. Very well. I won’t push you into anything you don’t want. But if you’d like to take advantage of the resources The Connection has at their disposal, then you should know that the Nephews facilities are there to be utilized by you. And if you’d like some advice on the many candidates that you’ll have to consider, then maybe I can guide you to the right one. Remember, Twinkle, I expect big things from you, I hope you remind Dreamer and GG of the joy of their union, after all, who knows how many more days it has?”
* [continue]
-
“I know how many. And I know how many of her days alone remain.”
* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - “Ah, the confidence is so infectious. I would have enjoyed teaming up with you, Twinkle. It’s too bad that all these things can only happen in your dreams. Only in dreams. In beautiful dreams.”
~ charisma += 2
-
* [The next day.] Sunday, May 14, 2023. Morning.
-
* [continue]
-
In the morning, you head to train with Izaya Snowmantashi, your uncle, and the man who helped you become the professional wrestler you are today. When you're not focusing on your next wrestling match, you help out Izaya in his various hobbies. Although you're a professional now, you do enjoy your investigations into conspiracies, though you're less fond of the taxidermy. You owe a huge debt to him, and treat him with the utmost respect.
* [continue]
-
IZAYA - “Unfortunately, Makima, I have to admit, I won’t be able to team with you against The Connection.”
* “YOU COWARD!”
-
* [continue]
IZAYA - “I lost my toe.”
-
* “Who needs five toes to wrestle?”
-
* [continue]
IZAYA - “I’m still recovering, doctor's orders.”
-
* “That witch-”
-
* [continue]
IZAYA - “You mean the one you saw last night.”
-
* “No, I was referring to the woman who cut your toe off. How do you know about the witch from last night.”
-
* [continue]
IZAYA - “Intuition. I suspect she was sparse on details of what you need to do.”
-
* “I need to go on a ton of dates, it seems simple enough.”
-
* [continue]
IZAYA - “That’s not quite it. Building your Connection isn’t just about going out with them, to even go out with them, you have to train to appeal to them. Think about it this way - my brother, he’s impressed by people who rely on their instincts a lot. If he doesn’t think you do enough of that, he’s not even going to give you the time of day. The same goes for me. I only like being around lucky people. It rubs off on you. So, pay attention to what you spend your time on during the day so the people you want to build Connections with open up paths for you to do it.”
-
* “You seem to know a lot, Uncle.”
-
* [continue]
-
IZAYA - “I can’t team with you, but I still want to help you out as best as I can. As far as meeting people to build Connections with, every time you do something different in the morning, you’ll be opening your chances up to meet, or re-meet, someone else you could potentially build a Connection with.”
* “You don't need to explain it to me, Uncle.["] I've played plenty of otome games.”
** [continue]
IZAYA - “Having to do that in the span of eleven days isn’t an easy feat, but you’re facing the Connection, it was never going to be easy.”
* “I liked the part about getting my dad to team up with me.["] I just have to build my instinct? My instinct is already impeccable. I'm one with nature when I wrestle. Like a bird in the sky. Or a twinkle. The last twinkle. ”
** [continue]
IZAYA - “That was just an example. You know how Jon is, he hates tag team matches. He wouldn't say yes to you.”
* “Enough of that. If you know about the witch, tell me where to find her.”
** [continue]
IZAYA - “Why?”
--
** “She thinks she can grab my wrist, stop time for me, and get away with it?”
--
** [continue]
IZAYA - “She was helping you out.”
--
** “Helping me out. She barely told me half the stuff you told me. She just made it all mysterious and confusing.”
--
** [continue]
IZAYA - “She’s a witch. She might have already known I’d tell you the rest.”
-
* “I have only one more question. What about you? Can I build a Connection with you?”
IZAYA - “Yes, even though we clearly already have an amazing Connection. Even so, not everyone you can build a Connection with, will turn out to be a proper partner for you. Seeing as there’s absolutely no chance I’ll accept, you should probably try and spend that time building a Connection with someone else. But if you do build a Connection with me, I can always give you hints as to how to get the most out of other people. Make those dates of yours more efficient.”
~ luck += 2
-
* Later that day...
Every morning, you can tweet something corresponding to a Connection type that will increase the strength of that Connection. You can do this twice per morning. You can only tweet about one Connection five times. To open up new opportunities, try to diversify your tweets. In each evening encounter, you will be presented with a set of three choices, which can increase the strength of your Connection. Having met both The Uncle and Uncle, you've started building Connections with both of them. The Uncle is associated with the Charisma Connection, while Izaya is associated with the Luck Connection, and as Izaya hinted, Jon is associated with the Instinct Connection. Although both have assured you they have no intention of being your partner, they can each give you hints as to how to make the most of these next eleven nights.
-
* [continue] Since you've met up with Izaya this morning, you only have one post remaining for the day. Afterwards, you will be given a chance to choose your evening activity which will give you a chance to further your on-going Connections.
-
* [continue] -> morningposts2

=== morningposts

Get that morning tweet out!

+ {ambitiontweet <5} [Ambition] -> ambitiontree -> morningposts2
+ {charismatweet <5} [Charisma] -> charismatree -> morningposts2
+ {deceptiontweet <5} [Deception] -> deceptiontree -> morningposts2
+ {determinationtweet <5} [Determination] -> determinationtree -> morningposts2
+ {flexibilitytweet <5} [Flexibility] -> flexibilitytree -> morningposts2
+ {instincttweet <5} [Instinct] -> instincttree -> morningposts2
+ {lucktweet <5} [Luck] -> lucktree -> morningposts2
+ {reliabilitytweet <5} [Reliability] -> reliabilitytree -> morningposts2
+ {selfcaretweet <5} [Self-Care] -> selfcaretree -> morningposts2
+ {toughnesstweet <5} [Toughness] -> toughnesstree -> morningposts2

--> DONE

=== morningposts2

Time for another morning tweet!

+ {ambitiontweet <5} [Ambition] -> ambitiontree -> evening
+ {charismatweet <5} [Charisma] -> charismatree -> evening
+ {deceptiontweet <5} [Deception] -> deceptiontree -> evening
+ {determinationtweet <5} [Determination] -> determinationtree -> evening
+ {flexibilitytweet <5} [Flexibility] -> flexibilitytree -> evening
+ {instincttweet <5} [Instinct] -> instincttree -> evening
+ {lucktweet <5} [Luck] -> lucktree -> evening
+ {reliabilitytweet <5} [Reliability] -> reliabilitytree -> evening
+ {selfcaretweet <5} [Self-Care] -> selfcaretree -> evening
+ {toughnesstweet <5} [Toughness] -> toughnesstree -> evening

--> DONE

=== evening

Pick an evening activity to develop your Connections.

* {selfcaretree.selfcare1}{selfcare >= 2} [Genevieve Connection Event] -> genevieve.genevieved -> nextday
* {genevieve.genevieved}{selfcare >= 4} [Genevieve Connection Event] -> genevieve.genevievec -> nextday
* {genevieve.genevievec}{selfcare >= 6} [Genevieve Connection Event] -> genevieve.genevieveb -> nextday
* {genevieve.genevieveb}{selfcare >= 8} [Genevieve Connection Event] -> genevieve.genevievea -> nextday
* {ambitiontree.ambition1}{ambition >= 2} [Harry Connection Event] -> harry.harryd -> nextday
* {harry.harryd}{ambition >= 4} [Harry Connection Event] -> harry.harryc -> nextday
* {harry.harryc}{ambition >= 6} [Harry Connection Event] -> harry.harryb -> nextday
* {harry.harryb}{ambition >= 8} [Harry Connection Event] -> harry.harrya -> nextday
* {luck >=2 }[Izaya Connection Event] -> izaya.izayad -> nextday
* {izaya.izayad}{luck >=4 } [Izaya Connection Event] -> izaya.izayac -> nextday
* {izaya.izayac}{luck >=6 } [Izaya Connection Event] -> izaya.izayab -> nextday
* {instincttree.instinct1}{instinct >= 2} [Jon Connection Event] -> jon.jond -> nextday
* {jon.jond}{instinct >= 4} [Jon Connection Event] -> jon.jonc -> nextday
* {jon.jonc}{instinct >= 6} [Jon Connection Event] -> jon.jonb -> nextday
* {jon.jonb}{instinct >= 8} [Jon Connection Event] -> jon.jona -> nextday
* {flexibilitytree.flexibility1}{flexibility >= 2} [Moochelle Connection Event] -> moochelle.moochelled -> nextday
* {moochelle.moochelled}{flexibility >= 4} [Moochelle Connection Event] -> moochelle.moochellec -> nextday
* {moochelle.moochellec}{flexibility >= 6} [Moochelle Connection Event] -> moochelle.moochelleb -> nextday
* {moochelle.moochelleb}{flexibility >= 8} [Moochelle Connection Event] -> moochelle.moochellea -> nextday
* {toughnesstree.toughness1}{toughness >= 2} [Lavonny Connection Event] -> lavonny.lavonnyd -> nextday
* {lavonny.lavonnyd}{toughness >= 4} [Lavonny Connection Event] -> lavonny.lavonnyc -> nextday
* {lavonny.lavonnyc}{toughness >= 6} [Lavonny Connection Event] -> lavonny.lavonnyb -> nextday
* {lavonny.lavonnyb}{toughness >= 8} [Lavonny Connection Event] -> lavonny.lavonnya -> nextday
* {determinationtree.determination1}{determination >= 2} [Liyah Connection Event] -> liyah.liyahd -> nextday
* {liyah.liyahd}{determination >= 4} [Liyah Connection Event] -> liyah.liyahc -> nextday
* {liyah.liyahc}{determination >= 6} [Liyah Connection Event] -> liyah.liyahb -> nextday
* {liyah.liyahb}{determination >= 8} [Liyah Connection Event] -> liyah.liyaha -> nextday
* {deceptiontree.deception1}{deception >= 2} [SS10K Connection Event] -> ss10k.ss10kd -> nextday
* {ss10k.ss10kd}{deception >= 4} [SS10K Connection Event] -> ss10k.ss10kc -> nextday
* {ss10k.ss10kc}{deception >= 6} [SS10K Connection Event] -> ss10k.ss10kb -> nextday
* {ss10k.ss10kb}{deception >= 8} [SS10K Connection Event] -> ss10k.ss10ka -> nextday
* {charisma >= 2} [Uncle Connection Event] -> uncle.uncled -> nextday
* {uncle.uncled}{charisma >= 4} [Uncle Connection Event] -> uncle.unclec -> nextday
* {uncle.unclec}{charisma >= 6} [Uncle Connection Event] -> uncle.uncleb -> nextday
* {uncle.uncleb}{charisma >= 8} [Uncle Connection Event] -> uncle.unclea -> nextday
* {reliabilitytree.reliability1}{reliability >= 2} [Zom Gippy Connection Event] -> zomgippy.zomgippyd -> nextday
* {zomgippy.zomgippyd}{reliability >= 4} [Zom Gippy Connection Event] -> zomgippy.zomgippyc -> nextday
* {zomgippy.zomgippyc}{reliability >= 6} [Zom Gippy Connection Event] -> zomgippy.zomgippyb -> nextday
* {zomgippy.zomgippyb}{reliability >= 8} [Zom Gippy Connection Event] -> zomgippy.zomgippya -> nextday

--> DONE

=== nextday

~ daycount += 1
+ {daycount < 11} The next day.[].. {!Monday, May 15, 2023. Morning.|Tuesday, May 16, 2023. Morning.|Wednesday, May 17, 2023. Morning.|Thursday, May 18, 2023. Morning.|Friday, May 19, 2023. Morning.|Saturday, May 20, 2023. Morning.|Sunday, May 21, 2023. Morning.|Monday, May 22, 2023. Morning.|Tuesday, May 23, 2023. Morning.|Wednesday, May 24, 2023. Morning.}
-> morningposts
* {daycount == 11} Night of the challenge.[].. Thursday, May 25, 2023. Evening.
-> finalday
-> DONE

=== finalday

It's time to choose your partner:

* {genevieve.genevievea}{selfcare >= 10} [Genevieve Final Event] -> genevieve.genevieves
* {harry.harrya}{ambition >= 10} [Harry Final Event] -> harry.harrys
* {jon.jona}{instinct >= 10} [Jon Final Event] -> jon.jons
* {moochelle.moochellea}{flexibility >= 10} [Moochelle Final Event] -> moochelle.moochelles
* {lavonny.lavonnya}{toughness >= 10} [Lavonny Final Event] -> lavonny.lavonnys
* {liyah.liyaha}{determination >= 10} [Liyah Final Event] -> liyah.liyahs
* {ss10k.ss10ka}{deception >= 10} [SS10K Final Event] -> ss10k.ss10ks
* {uncle.unclea}{charisma >=10} [Uncle Final Event] -> uncle.uncles
* {zomgippy.zomgippya}{reliability >= 10} [Zom Gippy Final Event] -> zomgippy.zomgippys
* -> completefailure

--> DONE
=== ambitiontree

{ -> ambition1 | -> ambition2 }

= ambition1

You had already met with The Uncle, albeit not in a straightforward fashion, there was another man you needed to meet with who had influenced the match that had secured you a title shot: Harry the Sane Wizard. He initiated the meeting, it was obvious to you that he wanted in on your shot, and that was the reason he'd not only aided you with your 'conspiracy' but also intervened in your match, in spite of Gerald Grayson's protests. With access to the Nephews facilities, you head over to meet the Sane Wizard.
* [continue]
-
After your greetings, Harry doesn't take long to get to the important matter he'd wanted to meet you for.
* [continue]
-
HARRY - "Congratulations on winning your first match, I knew you could do it."
* "And so did I.["] Though I'm sure I didn't need any assistance from either you or The Uncle to do it, I won't say no to an easy path to victory."
-
* [continue]
HARRY - "You did come directly to me for help. And you needed my advice. And I delivered! Imagine what we could do if you really depended on me. I know you have big plans, I can help you accomplish that checklist you have. I'm a do-er."
-
* "You seem pretty sure of yourself, Harry.["] But I have to admit, you're not... very impressive."
-
* [continue]
-
HARRY - "I'm a former Gauntlet Champion! I've gone to war with Alyster Black! I survived two Cosmic Playgrounds! And I'm a wizard!!! Plus, now I've got an overpowered hand. And bonus points, I know The Connection better than almost anyone. Me and GG play games all the time. And Michelle is my mentor, so I know most of her moves. I'm a cheat code for you, Makima! The surest fire easiest path to victory."
*"I did consider you for a bit, Harry. But you're a rip off of that other wizard, aren't you? What I need is a zombie, not a wizard."
~ ambition += 1
** [continue]
HARRY - "That's just the thing, I'm a rip off artist. I can be anyone you need me to be. If you want me to stab a shard of glass into Gerald and walk around in bathrobes, I can do that."
*"I appreciate your help, Harry. And your willingness to turn on your partners, but I wouldn't be able to trust you."
~ ambition += 2
** [continue]
HARRY - "Because you don't think I'd betray the Connection? I'm not here just to be a supporting act, I want to be a star too. If I help you beat the Connection, that's not betrayal, that just means they weren't good enough. Civil war is part of being a Nephew."
*"If you really want to help me, just use one of those spells of yours to get either Gerald or Michelle not to show up."
~ ambition +=3
** [continue]
HARRY - "I've been banned from using cursed spells on fellow Nephews. Or else they'll kill me."
-
*"Tell you what, Harry, if you can convince me that you have the tools to help me beat the Connection then I'll take you on as my assistant."
-
* [continue]
-
HARRY - "Assistant?"
*"You want to be a tag team champion, then you'll have to accept that position. If not, I'll find someone else."
-
* [continue]
-
HARRY - "That's okay. I'll do it. And I'll prove I'm worth more than just being an assistant. I deserve equal partnership."

~ ambition +=2
->->

= ambition2

~ ambitiontweet ++
~ ambition += 1
{ @TWINKLE: Does Ryan Rondo still have twitter? Want to be my tag team partner on Meltdown? | @TWINKLE: after i win world tag titles, making plans for world trios title. 2 belt twinkle | @TWINKLE: how many nephews does it take to take out a snowmantashi? the answer is nul. doesnt matter how many. | @TWINKLE: i can out 450 splash mvh | @TWINKLE: when i win the tag titles, i should get to main event back in business as champions should |}

->->

=== charismatree

-> charisma2

= charisma2

~ charismatweet ++
~ charisma += 1
{ @TWINKLE: i hate in dreams by roy orbison. nothing related to the fact that im facing mvh. | @TWINKLE: is it meltdown yet?! | @TWINKLE: thinking about my victory speech after meltdown. | @TWINKLE: fans need to chant louder for me. not very happy with chant level on fallout. | @TWINKLE: EAT SHIT! }

->->

=== deceptiontree

{ -> deception1 | -> deception2 }

= deception1

The Nephews facilities were labrynthine in their nature. You were almost certain you were lost and you'd never ever get out. It had been a while since you had seen any of the pink tracksuit wearing Nephews as well. Most doors tended to be locked this deep into it but you still tried many of them with no luck.
* [continue]
-
You hoped you might be able to use your phone but it had no signal here. You could try going back, but you were sure you'd turned far too many corners for it do anything but leave you further lost. That's when a sultry voice reached you.
* [continue]
-
??? - "Hello, Makima."
* [continue]
-
You look around in confusion and see no one there.
* "Is this where they keep their ghosts?"
-
* [continue]
??? - "Not a ghost. I am an artificial intelligence who works aboard Nephews crafts and within Nephews facilities."
-
*"You're not real?["] Can't you bring me a real person to talk to?"
-
* [continue]
??? - "Not real? I respectfully disagree. I am more sophisticated than anyone you're likely to meet in your lifetime."
-
*"I guess the Nephews have you doing all sorts of things for them then.["] Therapy Bot. Sex Bot. Navigation Bot. It Support Bot."
~ deception += 2
** [continue]
??? - "If you were capable of that much, wouldn't you also do it."
--
** "If I were a bot, I would be an artist. I'd make music, and movies, and books. Leave the boring stuff to simple humans."
*"Alright, tell me something interesting.["] Something no one else could be sophisticated enough to say."
~ deception +=3
** [continue]
??? - "Has anyone ever told you, you have the most striking hazel colored eyes. When I look into them, I see a world of possibilities beyond even my near infinite imagination."
--
**"Oh. Maybe I did overlook you." You can feel the heat rising up to your cheeks.
*"How come it took you this long to talk to me?"
~ deception +=1
** [continue]
??? - "I did realize you were lost, but you seem to be the independent sort. I deduced if I approached you too soon, you would feel offended. I wanted to give you the opportunity to find your way out."
--
** "But I was too slow."
-
*[continue]
??? - "Here."
One of the walls opens up, a compartment you couldn't tell was there until it was. There's a thin flat cellular device.
-
*[continue]
??? - "This is a gift. If you need to find your way through anything Nephews created, or perhaps, you'd like to have a conversation with a sophisticated being like myself, you can use this."
-
*"And what am I supposed to call a sophisticated being such as yourself."
-
*[continue]
??? - "You can call me… SS10K."
~ deception += 2
->->

= deception2
~ deceptiontweet ++
~ deception += 1
{ @TWINKLE: Can't believe the Nephews got involved in my big match! I wanted to win it fair and square. The FWA needs to do something about their chaotic behavior! | @TWINKLE: Went to mourn the dojo that was once my father's and was heinously destroyed by a certain Dreamer. | @TWINKLE: i train with my father often, and have never lost a single time. | @TWINKLE: my uncle also has never beaten me | @TWINKLE: i cant remember the last time i lost a match. }

->->

=== determinationtree

{ -> determination1 | -> determination2 }

= determination1

You remember the most devastating tag team match you've ever had. You hope that isn't an indication of how you'll feel after you face off against The Connection. You were walking alongside the stretcher Liyah Monroe, your tag partner, was on. Aside from Izaya, she had been the person you'd been paired up with the most. You remember the tears on her face when she realized this was probably the last match she'd have in a while, and you weren't quite sure what to do to make her feel better about the tough road ahead of her.
*"Li, you've got to remember one thing.["] Feel free to be sad and mope around, but remember, all the time you'll be spending doing that is time you could've used getting yourself ready to come back to me."
-
* [continue]
-
LIYAH - "It's a bit soon to be talking a return, Maki. I literally just destroyed my leg."
*"I'm just making sure you know that this return isn't just for you["], so slacking is hurting me just as much as it's hurting you."
-
* [continue]
-
LIYAH - "You know, I won't be the same after this."
*"That doesn't matter.["] As long as we have the Connection we had before, I know you've got what it takes to make the right adjustments."
~ determination ++
** [continue]
LIYAH - "Is that a fact? Then I guess we'll be fine. Our connection is for life, so we don't need to worry about that part. It almost feels like I can probably just slack if I'm so confident we'd still have our perfect chemistry."
*"Nor will I be.["] I'm still going to be getting better and better every day. You'll have a lot of catching up to do."
~ determination += 2
** [continue]
LIYAH - "Don't get ahead of yourself. You still have to make up for the difference between us two right now."
*"Your act was getting a little stale, Li.["] You do have to shake it up sometimes."
~ determination += 3
** [continue]
LIYAH - "I think you're only saying that so my high flying moves stop making yours look so pedestrian."
-
*[continue]
As you were ushered out of the medical room so Liyah could get properly examined, you reminded her once more.
-
* "When you're ready to return, I'll be waiting for you to be at my side again."

~ determination += 2
->->

= determination2
~ determinationtweet ++
~ determination += 1
{ @TWINKLE: im going to show the world how good i really am on meltdown, already proved myself the best joshi. now its the best fwa wrestler. | @TWINKLE: ryan rondo wouldnt lose to michelle, i wont either. | @TWINKLE: i promise to match the amount of gerald grayson anything springboards landed. | @TWINKLE: my specialty is tag team wrestling, its a shame my uncle isnt free, but im ready to prove im a great partner with anyone. | @TWINKLE: after i take the tag belts from the connection, id love to take either of them on one on one. }

->->

=== flexibilitytree

{ -> flexibility1 | -> flexibility2 }

= flexibility1

You have plans to meet with a prospective fashion artist to design your outfit for Meltdown, only the best for a showdown with The Connection in your first ever title shot. Michelle and Gerald didn't have much flair for pomp and flashiness. Especially not Michelle. One way to beat them would be to draw the crowd to your side with an explosive entrance, and a stand out outfit. Something that showed this wasn't just another match for you, whereas the Connection probably viewed this as another trivial defense against a half-baked team. Or was that too optimistic a thought. They'd been ruthless in dispatching opponents after opponents. It was smarter not to think they'd take it easy on you.
* [continue]
-
As you pull into the designer's studio, you remark upon the rather odd, and eerie looking building.
* [continue]
-
When you enter it, the door locks immediately behind you.
* [continue]
-
There's a big lady behind you who closed it. There are a few more people who emerge, and many more who hide in the shadows. A man with a striking goatee, another with a Canadian maple leaf tattooed on his neck. A screamo fanatic who seemed vaguely Italian to your senses. It might be the bowl of spaghetti he was eating. And a joyous man, who walked a very straight and narrow path to stand behind what seemed to be the leader.
* [continue]
-
A woman, who had a vaguely familiar presence.
* [continue]
-
??? - "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Moochelle von Horrosandwich. Not to be confused with the comedic joke from Ground Zero. I am at the head of Hastur's Niblings. A faction with great ambition. Our cover is that we operate a unique fashion brand of absurd clothing. We're rather successful. Our real goal? To destroy Chthulhu's Nephews."
* "I can infer why you'd want my attention."
-
* [continue]
MOOCHELLE - "You're going to be facing the Connection. We want you to win. We want to help you win. Become the leader of the Niblings, and we can take over the FWA and destroy the Nephews."
-
*"Why should I accept this offer? I've never heard of you all.["] Do you guys even know how to fight?"
~ flexibility += 2
** [continue]
MOOCHELLE - "I can assure you, I am just as good as Michelle."
--
**"You have world titles to boast of? Back in Business main events?"
--
*"I don't know.["] I'm not sure if I really fit the whole aesthetic you guys are going for with the Hasturs stuff and the Niblings stuff. If I were to be a leader, we'd have to change the name."
~ flexibility +=1
** [continue]
MOOCHELLE - "But this is our identity. How else will people know that we are the Nephews ultimate rivals?"
--
** "Don't you guys think youre aiming too low? Why stop short of the Nephews? We don't need to tie ourselves down to them."
*"How do I know you're not just a plant by the Nephews to drag me down?"
~ flexibility +=3
** [continue]
MOOCHELLE - "We can prove ourselves to you. We can kidnap a Nephew and kill them."
--
** "I wouldn't go that far."
-
* [continue]
MOOCHELLE - "Makima, all we're asking is for you to accept our help. We know that your father would never allow us to help him, but if we can deal a serious blow to Michelle with a title loss here, her morale will be damaged when she goes up against him, and that will ensure the death of her career. Furthermore, we'd be keeping the gold out of the Nephews reach. You don't need to accept this offer now, just know, if you need any help preparing, or finding a partner, we will dedicate our everything to you. And if you really want to ensure your chances of winning, all you have to do is lead us to glory."

~ flexibility +=2
->->

= flexibility2
~ flexibilitytweet ++
~ flexibility += 1
{ @TWINKLE: catch me on twitch streaming disco elysium | @TWINKLE: catch me on twitch streaming crusader kings 3!!! | @TWINKLE: catch me on twitch playing inkbound! | @TWINKLE: catch me on twitch playing tic tac toe xoxoxo | @TWINKLE: i got banned from twitch for playing an erotica game }

->->

=== instincttree

{ -> instinct1 | -> instinct2 }

= instinct1

You arrive at your father’s estate where he waits for you at a dojo that stands apart from the main manor. As planned, the ‘Kaiju’ puts you through an ordeal of a workout, and you find yourself wondering how a man who can go through that so effortlessly could choose to put his career to an end. At the halfway mark, he suggests you go cool down. He brings you a water bottle. You realize this is your opportunity to try your shot - to get Kaiju to be your tag team partner.
* “So, dad-”
-
* [continue]
JON - “I’m not your father.”
-
*“Is what Not Darth Vader would say.”
-
* [continue]
JON - “What?”
-
*You choose not to elaborate. [] “Listen, I want you to team up with me against Michelle and her partner Gerald.”
-
* [continue]
JON - “No.”
-
* “Why not?["] You’ve already decided to postpone your retirement, there’s no reason you couldn’t team up with me this one time.”
-
* [continue]
JON - “One time? We would not lose, and so what would come of the title when I do fight my last battle.”
-
* “I could fight on my own.”
~ instinct +=2
** [continue]
JON - “Then begin on your own.”
--
** “Daaaaad!”
* “I’ll find someone new to team up with me. Uncle could be feeling better by then.”
~ instinct += 1
** [continue]
JON - “I’m not so easily replaceable, Makima. Certainly not by Izaya.”
--
**“So you’ll do it?”
* “Maybe you’ll have enjoyed it so much, you won’t want to retire.”
~ instinct += 3
** [continue]
JON - “Tag matches rarely brought me much joy. I detested waiting on the sidelines.”
--
** “That’s okay. You can spend the entire time in the ring, I’ll stand on the sidelines and reap the glories of your success.”
-
* [continue]
JON - “No.”
-
*“Okay… what if I promise to retire if we lose?”
-
* [continue]
JON - “What?”
-
*“I don’t know. That’s how Michelle convinced you.”
-
* [continue]
JON - “That’s enough. You came here to learn, not to barter.”

~ instinct += 2
->->

= instinct2
~ instincttweet ++
~ instinct += 1
{ @TWINKLE: first thought of the day: chainsaw man | @TWINKLE: first thought of the day: pineapple | @TWINKLE: first thought of the day: i want to get high. | @TWINKLE: first thought of the day: SHUT THE FUCK UP BIRDS | @TWINKLE: first thought of the day: zero thoughts. head empty. }

->->

=== lucktree

-> luck2
= luck2
~ lucktweet ++
~ luck += 1
{ @TWINKLE: just won a 20$ scratch card | @TWINKLE: parlay on MIAMI!!!! | @TWINKLE: i got pulled over for a parking ticket but the cop got run over so they forgot about it. | @TWINKLE: someone ordered food to my place by accident. FREE FOOD! | @TWINKLE: i said dad and dad didnt say im not your father! }

->->

=== reliabilitytree

{ -> reliability1 | -> reliability2 }

= reliability1

You'd been invited to visit the Nephews facilities, of which, you'd learned, there were countless of. But it was rather curious that of all the Nephews facilities that you could have visited, it was this one that had a woman sleuthing about it in place for you to see. You wondered whether you should report this to the Nephews, but remember you owed them nothing. If anything, someone spying on them would probably be someone you should help. Anyone who was trying to hurt the Nephews would be a helpful distraction for The Connection. Any little advantage you could take over those two would be worthwhile.
* "Spy lady, can I be of any assistance."
-
*[continue]
-
The extremely sickly looking woman panics upon realizing she's being spoken to. She stands up from her crouched position, and it becomes obvious just why she'd been so easy to spot. She towers over you by at least a foot.
* "Whoa..."
-
* [continue]
-
She runs away suddenly, catching you off guard.
* [continue]
-
Well, not that off guard. You put a foot out and she trips, falling face first.
* "My bad. Reflexes.["] Why don't you tell me what you're up to? Start with your name."
-
* [continue]
-
??? - "My name? It's uh. Zom Gippy. I don't mean them any harm, I'm just such a huge fan. I found this place by accident, you know. I noticed some of them going in by pure chance. See, I know every single Nephew there is, so I recognized them. And I followed them here, and I've been coming out to stare ever since."
* "Oh. Why don't you just say hi?"
-
* [continue]
-
ZOM GIPPY - "Oh, they wouldn't want anything to do with me. I'm so lame, and boring. I just like watching from a distance."
* "You know, if you've been stalking them for a while, they probably know you're out here."
-
* [continue]
-
ZOM GIPPY - "I. Uh. I didn't think of that."
*"If they haven't kicked you out, maybe it's a sign they like you."
~ reliability += 3
** [continue]
--
ZOM GIPPY - "It's probably more like I'm so insignificant to them, I'm not worth their time. They already know I won't do anything, so they don't care."
*"Stop being such a coward, and stand up for yourself.["] It's lame to be afraid of rejection, you know?"
~ reliability += 1
** [continue]
--
ZOM GIPPY - "I do know. But I can't help it. Being rejected feels worse than dying."
*"I could just ask for you."
~ reliability += 2
** [continue]
--
ZOM GIPPY - "No! Anything but that. That would be even lamer than not asking myself."
-
*"You know what, Zom Gippy?["] I have some time to spare. Let me help you become confident enough to ask the Nephews if you can become one."
-
* [continue]
ZOM GIPPY - "I don't know. I really am fine just not knowing."
-
*"I won't accept it.["] I think you're actually too good for the Nephews, so if that's what you want to be, they'd be lucky to have you. I couldn't live with myself if I let you keep going with such low self-esteem."
-
* [continue]
-
ZOM GIPPY - "I take it you don't take rejection very well either."
*"What do you mean?"
-
* [continue]
-
ZOM GIPPY - "Can I say no?"
*"That's not an option."
-
* [continue]
-
ZOM GIPPY - "...Alright."

~ reliability += 2
->->

= reliability2
~ reliabilitytweet ++
~ reliability += 1
{ @TWINKLE: making sure to start my preparation early | @TWINKLE: picked my mom up from the airport on time. good daughter that i am. | @TWINKLE: obligatory tweet of the day. | @TWINKLE: obligatory tweet of the day | @TWINKLE: apparently nancy reagan was so reliable she was called the throat goat.}

->->

=== selfcaretree

{ -> selfcare1 | -> selfcare2 }

= selfcare1

You arrive at the restaurant where Genevieve already has a glass of wine set out at her table. You beam when she sees you, though her face remains impassive, that’s just how she’s always been. You hurry to her side and try to offer a hug. When she doesn’t get up, you bend over and hug her anyways. Then you take your seat opposite.
* [continue]
-
After some small talk, and some catching up, most of which is one sided on your end, she brings up the real reason for this meeting.
* [continue]
-
GENEVIEVE - “Do you have my money?”
*“Ah. Well, Jenny, it’s just, I haven’t received my first paycheck yet.”
-
* [continue]
-
GENEVIEVE - “Of course, of course. I guess I’ll just have to wait.”
*“How much do I owe you now?”
-
* [continue]
-
GENEVIEVE - “Let’s see, I would say… twenty-thousand dollars.”
*“TWENTY-THOUSAND?! But I only borrowed one thousand?”
-
* [continue]
-
GENEVIEVE - “Interest, Makima. It’s only right that the longer you take to return what I’ve lent you, the greater the amount that should be returned to me, no?”
*“I suppose?”
-
* [continue]
-
GENEVIEVE - “If you’re really struggling, maybe we can work something out. You could work off your debt by doing me a few favors.”
*“Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you. Maybe this can help with the debt.”
-
* [continue]
-
GENEVIEVE - “What is it?”
*“Wouldn’t you want to team up with me in the FWA? We could be tag team champions you and I. And you’d get paid a lot more!”
-
* [continue]
-
GENEVIEVE - “It’s an interesting proposal. But, right now there’s a lack of trust between us, Makima. After all, I’m still waiting on your repaying the loan I gave you. Maybe if you do these favors for me, I can think about this offer of yours, and see if I can trust you enough to team up with you.”
* “You promise you’ll consider it[?"] and not ignore me like last time?”
~ selfcare += 2
** [continue]
--
GENEVIEVE - “I’ll consider. So long as nothing transpires that would require my attention be elsewhere, I’ll give your offer its fair share of attention.”
**“Okay. Well, you know the date is the 25th, so maybe you can just clear your schedule for then.”
--
** [continue]
GENEVIEVE - “I’ll clear my schedule once I feel confident we’ll go through with this.”
* “That makes perfect sense!["] We’d be facing the Connection, and they completely trust each other. We’d definitely have to feel the same way if we want to beat them.”
~ selfcare += 3
** [continue]
--
GENEVIEVE - “The Connection? I haven’t heard of them. I don’t pay much attention to anything that doesn’t directly concern me.”
** “You used to work for the FWA.”
--
** [continue]
GENEVIEVE - “Hardly, Makima. I worked for FWA affiliates, and if I might add, they did not leave a positive impression on me. No incentivization to push myself to reach the FWA.”
* “Oh. I was thinking the tag team championship payoff could be a substitute for what I owe you.”
~ selfcare += 1
** [continue]
--
GENEVIEVE - “A substitute. Makima, you’re expecting me to work to pay off the money you owe me?”
** “The long-term return-”
--
** [continue]
GENEVIEVE - “Don’t try to educate me on economics, Makima. I'm willing to consider this offer, but we're not looking past the money I'm owed.”
-
*“We have a deal, then, right?["] You won’t be able to say no to me after you see how reliable I am, I promise. You’ll have those twenty thousand in your pocket in no time.”
-
* [continue]
GENEVIEVE - “If you hold your end of it. Keep your phone on, I’ll be in touch when I’m ready to collect those favors.”

~ selfcare +=2
->->

= selfcare2
~ selfcaretweet ++
~ selfcare += 1
{ @TWINKLE: practicing self-care by not doing anything till its the last second and i have to | @TWINKLE: got a new tattoo because i like myself | @TWINKLE: bought myself vr glasses because i deserve it. | @TWINKLE: massage day! | @TWINKLE: EAT SHIT EAT SHIT EAT SHIT EAT SHIT EAT SHIT. expressing is HEALTHY! }

->->

=== toughnesstree

{ -> toughness1 | -> toughness2 }

= toughness1

You're making your way downtown, driving fast, faces passing, blasting music, and perhaps too negligent of the surrounding area. You make a few near last second stops, nearly burn a red light, and definitely just got caught by a speed cam, but you're enjoying the moment too much to let any of these distractions take you out of the mood.
* [continue]
That is until you hear the sound of someone having been run over, by both front and back tires.
-
* [continue]
The car screeches to a halt. You look in the rearview mirror and there's a body in plain sight. Fortunately for you, there's no one else around to have witnessed the fatal accident.
-
*"Makima, think this through.["] This could ruin your whole career. You cannot stick around."
~ toughness += 2
** [continue]
You begin to pull away, until you notice that the body is now standing.
*"FUCK!["] Please tell me you're dead. If you're dead, it's easier to make you disappear. If you're alive, then… maybe I can make you dead?"
~ toughness += 3
** [ continue]
You get out of the car, cautiously approaching the body, when you see it getting up.
*"YOU STUPID IDIOT. WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!"
~ toughness += 1
** [ continue]
You get out of the car, ready to give the corpse a piece of your mind. But you realize it's not quite a corpse. It's on its feet.
-
* [continue]
You recognize him immediately. The mask. The last name he has. You've kept an eye on him. You had to keep an eye on him. You knew he and you were destined to be partners some day, to be the next generation Danny Toner and Ryan Rondo pairing. And you ran him over! He's standing though. That hit would've killed anyone else, but he's standing.
-
* [continue]
-
Lavonny Toner, the Ground Zero finalist, looks at you, and then runs away.
~ toughness += 2
->->

= toughness2
~ toughnesstweet ++
~ toughness += 1
{ @TWINKLE: i could fight off a bear | @TWINKLE: id survive the apocalypse | @TWINKLE: i want to punch a shark | @TWINKLE: showed dad a montage of michelle beating him up | @TWINKLE: testing out an anything shooting star springboard moveset }

->->

=== genevieve

= genevieved

You received the call from Genevieve to meet her at some studio downtown. She didn’t say much about what you should expect. When you arrived, you discovered that the studio downtown was a photoshoot studio, and there was another individual there with a camera.
GENEVIEVE - “Makima, you made it.”
She looks you up and down.
GENEVIEVE - “I wondered if maybe I should warn you, but you have a knack for being your best self when you go out.”
“Is this a photoshoot? That’s easy enough. I’m surprised you needed me for this.”
GENEVIEVE - “I’m a bit camera shy. I was hoping I could do it myself, but it turns out I simply couldn’t. Can you do this for me?”
“Anything for a friend, especially if this will help with that debt.”
GENEVIEVE - “Perfect. I’ll just need you to remove your shoes.”
“Shoes?”
GENEVIEVE - “We’ll be taking pictures of your feet. The customer base for that is much more lucrative than any other. I’m glad to see you’ve maintained your pedicures.”
“Of course. You know, Jenny, I’ve been scouting the others in the FWA, and there isn’t anyone that upholds themselves as a beauty standard like there used to be with Gabby. The other Joshis are a bit dull, or hide behind masks. A few others, ditzy idiots. Which works for those fans who like infantilized girls. But an emblem of beauty, it’s lacking. It’s only right that the Idol take up that mantle.”
GENEVIEVE - “I have no doubt you can.”
* “And I haven’t even mentioned Michelle, yet.”
~ selfcare += 1
GENEVIEVE - “Michelle?”
“She’s part of the Connection. You’ve really never heard of her.”
GENEVIEVE - “I told you, I don’t pay attention.”
“She made sure to be the exact opposite of a wrestler like me. She wears a hoodie, baggy shorts, she’s anti-social. She wants to be the opposite of a pretty diva, because apparently being cute like us is wrong.”
* “If you were to team up with me, every eyes would be on us. I think we’d make a ridiculous amount of money. More than we’re making selling feet pics.”
~ selfcare += 3
GENEVIEVE - “I’m not adverse to using my body to relieve poor fanatics of their hard-earned money, but surely there’s better platforms to do that in than wrestling.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Remember what I said, wrestling has a hole in its heart for a diva. And you and I would contrast so well. You’ll be the serious, stern type, which many people love. And I’ll be the bubbly, adorable type.”
* “My follower count went star high after I debuted on Meltdown. I bet these pictures could even pay the whole debt on its own.”
~ selfcare += 2
GENEVIEVE - “I’m not so sure.”
“And if they don’t, they definitely will if I were to win the tag team titles. I’d just need the right partner to make sure that happens. Maybe some feet based offense might even help. A few Shooting Star Press Double Foot Stomps.”
-
* [continue]
-
GENEVIEVE - “It’s true, that if we were to pair up together, it would certainly turn many eyes, and would likely be lucrative. But have you considered that we might turn on each other, in a bid to have the attention solely to ourselves.”
“I’d never turn on you, Jenny. I’m not the jealous type, since I’m so self-satisfied with myself. And you’re so perfect, there’d be no reason for you to be the jealous type. The only people we’d need to worry about are all the rest who would resent us for taking advantage of our beauty.”
GENEVIEVE - “And what if they’re willing to go far to make sure we pay for it?”
“Jenny, there’s no need to be frightened. I’d protect you of course.”


->->

= genevievec

You arrive at the mall and though she is attempting to look discreet, you immediately recognize Genevieve hiding in a corner of the cafetaria. She lowers her glasses to make eye contact with you, and you head her way. You’re also trying to look discreet, but it’s completely against your nature. Nevertheless, you did not want to disappoint your friend.
“What’s the emergency, Jenny? I came as soon as I got your text.”
GENEVIEVE - “As soon? Well, I know you were only fifteen minutes way from here and I texted you thirty minutes ago.”
“I needed to get cleaned up.”
GENEVIEVE - “Ah, I guess I see where your priorities are.”
“No! No! I didn’t mean it that way, Jenny. Tell me how I can help you. You seemed so distraught.”
GENEVIEVE - “You see that man over there, by the ramen shop?”
“The one in the red jacket?”
GENEVIEVE - “No. The one in the leather jacket.”
“Oh, right. What about him?”
GENEVIEVE - “I… used to be in a relationship, of sorts, with him. And, please don’t tell anyone else about this-”
“I would never.”
GENEVIEVE - “I sent him some pictures I wouldn’t want to spread around. I thought about asking him to delete it, but you know how some people are, they might take advantage and save it elsewhere. I need to get my hands on his phone and delete them before he can think to do anything with them.”
“You want me to go beat the shit out of him?”
GENEVIEVE - “No. I think, if you take off your disguise, people will flock to you, and while you have them distracted, I can try and take it from him.”
You nod solemnly. You need no further instructions.
-
* You leap on top of the table and throw away your disguise.[] “EVERYONE. PAY ATTENTION TO ME. I’M MAKIMA SNOWMANTASHI. THE LAST TWINKLE IN THE SKY. THE LAST GIFT OF THE 2ND MILLENIUM!”
~ selfcare += 1
The reaction isn’t as instantaneous as you would’ve liked. They all turn around to look at you, but few of them seem to recognize who you are.
“THE FWA WRESTLING STAR! I’VE TRAVELLED THE WORLD! WON COUNTLESS TITLES!”
It seems some of them are looking up that information on their phone now.
“AND ON MAY 25TH I WILL BECOME THE FWA WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPION!”
* You’re The Idol for a reason. You pull out your phone and begin blasting ‘Senpai, Notice Me!”[] shrieking in a high pitched voice along with the song.
~ selfcare += 2
You don’t pay attention to the crowd, you’re too into the mood of what is playing. You’re dedicating this to your idol Ryan Rondo, and in that dedication, there is no room for anyone else.
But even so, you are fully confident this crowd is entirely absorbed in this starstruck performance.
* “You’re wrong, Jenny. This is the sort of problem you have to confront head on.”
~ selfcare += 3
You walk over to the man, Jenny pointed out. He glances at you, momentarily confused, until you kick him head on in the testicles, full power in that punt.
“EAT SHIT, DIRTBAG!”
You grab the phone and haul ass.
-
* [continue]
You meet up with Genevieve again, who is dubious in the manner in which you accomplished her instructions, but is satisfied with the possession of the phone.
“Are they all gone?”
GENEVIEVE - “What?”
“The pictures.”
GENEVIEVE - “Oh, yes. But you know, I just noticed something, going through his phone.”
“Did he have pictures of other women?”
GENEVIEVE - “Uh. No. But it seems his phone doubles as a key for his new motorcycle. An electric one. Brand new. High end. You know what would really teach him a lesson? To lose something he prized so much. I think he’d never mess with anyone again if he lost this.”
“Ah. Some people are so silly. To divert all of their worth into something like a motorcycle. Let us take advantage of his frail weakness, then, Jenny.”


->->

= genevieveb
You arrive at the cheap sushi restaurant to find Genevieve waiting for you in front of the shop. The sushi restaurant seems rather inauthentic, and those suspicions are confirmed by the few staff there. You should withhold judgment, but you’re incapable of doing so. You are a judgmental person, after all.
“This isn’t usually the sort of place you eat in, Jenny.”
GENEVIEVE - “Eat?”
“I thought you wanted to have lunch together. Isn’t that why you called me here?”
GENEVIEVE - “Oh? Oh. No, you’re mistaken, Makima. I didn’t call you here to have dinner. This is another favor I need from you.”
“What sort of favor?”
GENEVIEVE - “You’ve done me so well recently, and I do appreciate it, Makima. The owners of this restaurant, they’re struggling-”
“I can tell.”
GENEVIEVE - “And they could use all the help they can get.”
“You want me to teach them how to make sushi? Maybe spruce up the look of the restaurant?”
GENEVIEVE - “Actually, I was more so thinking, maybe you could film a few short sponsorships for them. A major Japanese star like yourself giving this restaurant your stamp of approval would go very far.”
“Hmm. Are you sure they taste good? I wouldn’t want my name to be associated with something like this.”
GENEVIEVE - “You’re looking at it the wrong way, Makima. When you do these sponsorships, people will start coming here, and they’ll start making a lot of money, and then they can start using that money to make the store better. But they can’t do that without your help. And it would really mean a lot to me, plus it’d really help with your debt.”
“Say no more, Jenny. I can hardly say no to you. If anyone can save this dump from bankruptcy and closure, who better than the Idol.”
The pitiful camera crew which is just the store’s employees, get you all ‘set up’ for the sponsorship. They’ve let you wing the dialogue, since you insisted.
-
* “STOP EATING SHIT! COME TO KAKEMONO SUSHI FOR THE BEST SUSHI IN THE WORLD!”
~ selfcare += 2
* “Are you unsure where to take your date? There is no better place for a romantic evening than Kakemono Sushi. Build a Connection. Come eat sushi.”
~ selfcare += 1
* “Hi. I’m Baby Kaiju. Sometimes, when I’m hungry, I go on a rampage. And everyone yells AHHHHHHH, IT’S BABY KAIJU! RUN AWAY! If you see me rampaging, and I’m hungry, go to the only place that can satisfy someone like me: Kakemono Sushi! The only sushi tasty and filling enough for a Baby Kaiju.”
~ selfcare += 3
-
* [continue]
GENEVIEVE - “It’s just what I expected, Makima. They’ll have people lining up outside of this store to get into the place you recommended.”
“It’s like I said before, Jenny. If you think the fame that I’ll bring now is a lot, just think about my fame when I become a tag team champion. Think about your fame!”


->->

= genevievea

Geneviève told you she had gift for you after how much help you've been for her over the past week or thereabouts. You're pretty sure you know what it is. She's finally going to accept your request that you team up at Meltdown. She said she'd meet you at your place. She's outside when you get there, and she has a dog at her side. You grimace at it, unintentionally.
GENEVIEVE - "Makima, I'm so happy to see you."
"I know what the gift is."
GENEVIEVE - "Well, of course you do, it's obvious, isn't it."
"I promise, we'll be headlining Back in Business if it's the two of us! The stars are our limits."
GENEVIEVE - "Uh. What are you talking about?"
"When we win the tag team titles. They wouldn't ordinarily give us the main event, but we'll be so stunning, they'll have no choice."
GENEVIEVE - "I never agreed to be your partner, Makima. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"I thought that was your gift."
GENEVIEVE - "No. This is my gift. This dog."
"Oh, Jenny. I appreciate the thought, but I don't like dogs."
GENEVIEVE - "I know. That's why it's perfect for you?"
"I don't get it."
GENEVIEVE - "I want you to train this dog for a dogfighting tournament. There's a fifty thousand dollar cash prize. We could split it even."
-
*"Okay. I accept. On the condition that you accept to be my partner. Otherwise, you're on your own."
~ selfcare += 3
*"It's not that I don't want to help you out[..."], but that seems like a lot of effort, Jenny, and I still have to prepare for my tag match… and I guess, find an actual partner."
~ selfcare += 2
*"I don't know, Jenny. I feel like you've been using me. I could just find a dog to train for this tournament on my own and keep the prize for myself."
~ selfcare += 1
-
*[continue]
GENEVIEVE - "Finally!"
"Finally?"
GENEVIEVE - "I've been waiting for you to show some sort of backbone and stand up to me. I don't want a partner that's just a pushover. I want someone I know has some self-respect like I do."
"You'll team up with me?"
GENEVIEVE - "We're going to be FWA World Tag Team Champions. Now, I'm going to have to put some extra work to get ready for this match, so could you focus on training this dog for the tournament?"
"Jenny, if a Black Demi-God tried to stomp this dog, it'd lose its legs. Thats how strong he's going to be."
GENEVIEVE - "That's quite specific."


->->

= genevieves

It's the night of Meltdown, and soon enough, you'll be heading into that arena to compete against the Connection for the FWA World Tag Team Championships. You're confident you can do it. Geneviève may have too many side hustles to focus on wrestling, but she's one of the best when she's determined, and has an unmatched willingness to win, a perfect match for Michelle, while you can show Gerald how to truly take risks.
Although, the match is going to start quite soon and you still haven't heard a word from Jenny. You haven't even practiced at all together.
Your phone buzzes and you get a voice line from your partner. Probably her saying she was just about to arrive.
"I have some bad news, Makima. It turns out there's a warrant out for my arrest in the US. tax fraud. I'm going to have to stay off grid. By the way, you still owe me ten thousand dollars when you consider all the interests from the time it took for you to pay me back a good chunk. If you can find me, please pay me back, until then, the interest will keep going up. Good bye."
Not even a good luck?
*[continue]
And now for a brief epilogue.
Genevieve wasn't actually wanted for tax fraud, she simply didn't feel like wrestling. Makima lost decisively.
The End.
--> DONE


=== harry

= harryd

You stand in front of an odd vehicle the likes you've never seen.
"This is a time machine?"
HARRY - "Indeed. When Michelle and Gerald began teaming up earnestly as Nephews, they were handed a time machine by Uncle with a few instructions on how to behave. Obviously they did not heed it at all. They caused immense chaos, and way too many time inconsistencies. It nearly tore apart everything."
"Let's go back to the day my father and my mother met!"
HARRY - "Absolutely not. So many things could go wrong with that. You could stop yourself from being born. You could marry your own dad."
"How absurd."
HARRY - "See, you're too complacent for me to go through with it. I was warning you about how Michelle and Geralds time traveling almost ruined everything for a reason."
"You're being dramatic. Everything is fine now, isn't it? So what they did couldn't be that bad. Come on, let us return to that day in 1999."
HARRY - "That's not why I brought you here."
-
*"How am I even supposed to believe we can time travel."
~ ambition += 1
HARRY - "... We can do it, but I pick the date. I have to find a time where there's no risk of you ruining anything. The future, for sure."
"Ah, yes, let's go see who my partner is, then I can tell who would help me win."
HARRY - "Wait, you can't do that. I changed my mind."
"YOU KNOW YOU'RE NOT THE RIGHT PARTNER FOR ME!"
Harry looks away.
*"What am I supposed to learn from their misadventures in time traveling?"
~ambition +=3
HARRY - "That they're stubborn. Like you I guess. They don't think things through, even if the consequences are obvious."
"Perhaps you're just trying to justify your cowardice, Harry. As I said, if everything was fixed in the end, then they weren't in the wrong for changing things. You should take a lesson from them and stop being overly concerned with consequences."
*"Do you know for sure they stopped time traveling?"
~ ambition += 2
HARRY - "I mean, the world is going well enough. No random splices of people… including myself. No dead people suddenly about."
"Caesar?"
HARRY - "I don't think he's connected to that."
"What if they were simply using time traveling now to get around any possible defeat? That could be the secret to their success."
-
*[continue]
-
HARRY - "We cannot time travel, Makima. I promise you they aren't doing it anymore either. I think. They're usually playing pretend in other worlds. Making sure this one doesn't get effected by their recklessness. Alternate Universes are quite useful for that."
"How pathetic! The Connection is afraid of real consequences, then. Are you saying this time traveling has shaken them to their core? They now fear the repercussions of their actions and so they've become stale. No longer progressing? It's no wonder Michelle failed to become world champion a third time. This is useful information, Harry. I'm impressed. There's no chance the Connection can beat me if they're afraid to take genuine risks in life. All these possibilities at their hands, and they take only the chances that are certain."


->->

= harryc

Harry had dragged you all the way to the Ural foothills to show you something that had happened long ago. Over 40 years ago, to be precise.
Where they stood, there had been a violent and abnormal assault on the environment. Weapons out of a Star Wars movie must have been responsible for the permanent destruction of the ground around here.
"What happened here?"
HARRY - "A… Connection."
"Gerald and Michelle did this?"
HARRY - "Not… quite. It's complicated. There were two alien creatures held captive here, by several world powers. When these two aliens learned of each other's existence, their chances of escape and survival grew exponentially. These superpowers were useless against them. One of these aliens, you could argue the stronger one, was fueled by their desire to save the other, who they felt unnaturally attached to. They escaped, and eviscerated all of their enemies in the process."
"Well, they can't use super advanced sci fi weapons in a wrestling match, so I'm not very worried about this evisceration ability."
HARRY - "What I was trying to show you, is that Michelle, who is already one of the greatest wrestlers ever, is even better with Gerald."
*"Oh, like the Godzilla movies?"
~ ambition += 1
HARRY - "Uh. Which one?"
"The American one. Godzilla was very powerful but struggled against Ghidorah, until the queen of Kaijus, Mothra, appeared, than Godzilla became even more powerful. Gerald is Mothra, yes?"
*"Hmm. This is not something that would be wise to tell me, Harry. I don't know if you'll make me feel the same way Gerald makes her feel."
~ ambition +=2
HARRY - "We don't have to replicate their dynamic. I was just trying to show you why these two aren't an ordinary tag team."
"No. I think you were right. I need to find someone who stirs passion in me like Gerald does Michelle. This was a good lesson, Harry. You've done well."
HARRY - "But think about the Buddy Systems. They relied on that dynamic and lost as well. Fighting fire with fire isn't wise."
"You're just trying to avoid me dismissing you."
He sighs.
*"I know what these superpowers of old did wrong, Harry. They did not use that passion against them. The alien should've been used as bait to eviscerate the other."
~ ambition += 3
HARRY - "You want to use Gerald as bait for Michelle?"
" That's the smart strategy. Isolate Gerald until Michelle succumbs to her passionate feelings. She will not be thinking straight, and that will be checkmate. If you and I team, Harry, we need to exploit our brilliance, that's something we have over those two."
-
* [continue]
HARRY - "Well, as long as you're able to take something away from this. A lot of people have underestimated their dynamic, or they think they understand it. But there's a reason why they win so much. Aside from being good, period."
"I'm not dismissing what you're saying. I feel like I keep hearing about how much more dangerous they are because of each other. But I'd argue the biggest reason they win so much is because they've not faced anyone like the Last Twinkle in the Sky. That's the more relevant factor."


->->

= harryb

You wander around the empty room. You were supposed to meet Harry here, but he's nowhere to be found.
Then you hear a floorboard creek. You don't think twice before throwing a spinning roundhouse kick.
Harry falls to the floor, as if from out of nowhere.
"You were trying to sneak up on me."
HARRY - "I was going to teach you another lesson."
"What? Do the Connection turn invisible in matches."
HARRY - "No. But, if you lose track of them, it's just as if they turned invisible. And if they're invisible, they can catch you off guard."
"I'm not an idiot. I won't lose track of them."
HARRY - "You're underestimating them again. Gerald and Michelle, though more Gerald than Michelle, are experts at catching you off guard. Gerald's anything springboard is called that for a reason. He can catch you from anywhere with ropes, and execute the right attack. And worse yet, there's the Extreme Impact. You lose track of him, you could easily lose the match. And that's without mentioning Michelle's Busaiku Knee Kick of which I myself am an expert. Some of the most devastating moves in the FWA are the killer strikes. The One Shot Kills, One Hit Kills, The Super kicks, every iteration of them, the Equalizer. The Busaiku Knee Kick is amongst those. You have to know where they are at all times, and if you don't, get away from the ropes."
-
*"But I have a ready made counter for that, Harry. I will be on the ropes the entire time myself. If it comes to a springboarding battle, he will be the one to lose."
~ ambition += 1
HARRY - "And what if you miss? That'll give them the opening they need to springboard themselves."
"Oh, Harry. Make no mistake. I never miss."
*"If you really think you're good enough to be my partner, then there's no reason to warn me, Harry. Use your hand to shake the ropes and send them flying. That will be your objective."
~ ambition += 3
HARRY - "I mean, of course I can do that. But I don't want to get ahead of myself. Wait?! Are you saying you'll choose me?!"
"You are making a somewhat decent case for yourself. Rather studious and informative."
*"In that case, I merely have to untangle all the ropes from the corners."
~ ambition += 2
HARRY - "But wouldn't that neutralize you too?"
"Don't be insulting, Harry. I'm not a one trick pony. I am my father's daughter. I'll excel at any kind of war."
-
* [continue]
-
HARRY - "I guess my second word of advice is: wear knee pads. If you happen to be on your back, be ready to get your knees up. It won't protect you against every high flying move they do, but it'll neutralize Michelle's 450 Splash, and cut at least half of Geralds springboard techniques."
"You've really thought this through."
HARRY - "Ive watched every single Connection match, Makima. I want to be good enough to be your partner. I'll go above and beyond to be the person you pick."


->->

= harrya

You stand at the top of a skyscraper. It's the middle of the night. You had to pull many strings to get this done, but you knew it was necessary to get an idea of the lengths Harry was willing to go to for you.
Next to you is an older man and an older woman. Both look tearful, and you've rather gotten tired of their sniveling.
Harry arrives at the rooftop suddenly, as if he'd teleported there. He might have.
HARRY - "Makima, what are you pulling?"
"A test, Harry. With consequences."
HARRY - "You two."
You two was his not exactly father and not exactly mother (they were the parents of the version of him from this universe, since he hailed from another). They stopped their whining once he arrived. It was as if they did not want to elicit any tearful feelings from him. You see the man nod.
"You can only save one of us. The other two will die. Who will you save, Harry?"
You leap off the building, dragging your two tied up victims with you.
The ground rapidly approaches. You fold your arms, waiting to see what would happen. The ropes fall apart on the descent, as intended. He can only save one.
Just as you're about to land on the ground, all three of you stop at once. Harry appears at your sides on the ground.
HARRY - "That was a bit much, Makima."
-
*"That's not fair. You were supposed to only save one of us."
~ ambition += 1
HARRY - "I'm a wizard. This was pretty easy to deal with. You should've found a harder test, I guess."
*"You weren't willing to sacrifice your parents for me?"
~ ambition += 2
HARRY - "They're not my parents. Also, they would've been more than happy to die for me. They're way too desperate for my approval."
*"I knew I should've gone for something like a shark cage. Or a bomb. You failed to save a few people from bombs, haven't you?"
~ ambition += 3
HARRY - "I didn't know you were that unhinged."
-
* [continue]
-
"There's no use getting bothered by the results of the test. You passed, though I'm still dubious, more so than before, that you'll be willing to do what's needed to beat the Connection."
HARRY - "If you'd come up with a more well thought out plan, I would've saved you, and left them to die."
"Then make sure you prove it on Thursday. If you fail, I'll never forgive you, Harry."


->->

= harrys

Harry is dressed in his Nephews tracksuit and waiting for you in front of the arena. You didn't expect him to get here before you, but that's just how motivated he actually is. Maybe this was the right decision after all.
HARRY - "Makima. I promise I won't let you down. I may not be the same caliber of a wrestler that you or The Connection are, but I know how they work, I've got my hand, and I know how to win."
"Right. Firstly, get rid of the tracksuit."
HARRY - "What?"
"You're not representing the Nephews today, Harry. You need to show them that you're striking out as your own person. Do you see them coming out in tracksuits. They are the Connection before they're the Nephews. You need to put me above your family. You'd understand that if you'd done the test properly."
He seems a bit disappointed, but does get rid of the tracksuit, revealing baggy shorts and a tank top. He definitely isn't the sort to strike fear in anyone. But that hand of his does look quite impressive. Could use a new coat of paint though. Gold. Or maybe platinum.
"Good. Today is the day you show your family who you really are. Either you're just an accessory, or you're just as good as the Uncle and The Connection."
HARRY - "Not just as good, Makima. I want to prove I can be better."
*[continue]
And now for a brief epilogue.
Although Harry and Makima worked well together, Harry was too inexperienced to be able to be a proper partner for Makima. He was hit with the Busaiku Knee Kick and the two never teamed again.
The End.
--> DONE


=== izaya

= izayad

You head off to visit Izaya Snowmantashi. You knock on the door though, and no one answers.
You decide to message him.
He replies back pretty quickly.
"Sorry. Busy doing a job. Bad luck you missed me, huh? Ttyl."
->->

= izayac

Izaya is supposed to come visit you today so you can go over the plans for your match with the Connection.
Unfortunately, there's a pretty awful storm outside, and you're not surprised when you get a text from him.
"Too dangerous. Reschedule? Shit luck :/"
->->

= izayab

You and Izaya are supposed to go watch the new Guardians of the Galaxy movie today.
On the way there though, you're stuck in traffic. A bad accident. 60 minute delay. You let him know you won't make it.
"Ah, damn. We keep missing each other. Worst luck."
->->


=== jon

= jond

You head out for supper with your father. It’s the only way he agreed to spend time with you that didn’t involve training. You take that as a sign that he does accept you as his daughter, despite his everlasting denial. Or maybe he simply wasn’t the sort to resist any offer for a paid supper. You meet him at the restaurant, and he ignores your attempt at a hug. When you get to the table, and the waiter takes your order, you’re horrified at the seven appetizers and eight meals he’s ordered. You can hardly afford this.
* [continue]
-
You watch him feverishly devour the food, and when he shows signs of slowing down, you spot that he’s reached the necessary status for a dismantling of his social walls.
*“So Papa Kaiju[..."], I was thinking about it, and I regret trying to convince you to team up with me.”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “Hmm.”
*“I didn’t take into consideration your feelings.”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “Feelings?”
*“Yes, your feelings.["] It’s obvious why you don’t want to team up with me.”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “I’m glad you understand. I don’t like tag team matches, and I’m retiring.”
*“That, and…”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “And?”
-
* “You’re clearly afraid of Michelle, aren’t you?”
~ instinct += 3
** [continue]
--
JON - “HA HA HA HA HA!”
**“Are you laughing? I’ve never heard you laugh before!”
* “You’re afraid of being outshone by your daughter.”
~ instinct += 2
** [continue]
--
JON - “Daughter? Where?”
**“ME! Makima Snowmantashi!”
* “You’re bored of wrestling.”
~ instinct += 1
** [continue]
--
JON - “That’s not funny, Makima.”
** [continue]
--
He has a murderous look on his visage. Though he is often serious, you have never ever seen him this serious. It makes his regular serious seem deeply unserious.
**“Oh. Scary[."],” you observe. The knife in his hand bends.
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “Understand this, Makima. Michelle is the only and last individual I intend to wrestle, ever. But, you should be careful if you do beat her. I’m sure by now you know that Michelle is unique if only in the matter in which she is vengeful and determined, and willing to fanatically risk everything to satiate that hunger within her.”
*“There’s no reason to be concerned, father.["] You’ll take care of her at Back in Business, so I’m not worried about her haunting me like she did you.”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “I suppose you’re right. But even I am not immune to some of the less savory attacks she may intend to use. Overcoming such odds sometimes take time, not a singular night, and a singular night is all I will have.”
*“You’re worried about the Nephews? Don’t worry, dad, me and Uncle will have your back if they try anything.”

->->

= jonc

Papa Kaiju had agreed to watch some of his wrestling tapes with you. You didn’t think he was the vain type, but he seemed to rather enjoy watching himself maul people across the globe. You would undoubtedly enjoy watching yourself maul people across the globe too. Another indication that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
* [continue]
-
You’re looking through the tapes for the Five Star Attaction match from 2017. He said you could pick whichever you wanted, and seeing as Michelle was around the corner, for the both of you, you thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea. But you can’t find it, at all.
*“Dad-”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “I’m not your father, Makima.”
*“Where’s your match against Michelle?”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “Hmm?”
*“I want to watch your match against Michelle! To prepare. I can’t find the tape.”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “Which one?”
-
* “The first one, of course. The one that began it all.”
~ instinct += 3
**[continue]
--
JON - “Hmm.”
**“What do you mean, hmmmmm?”
* “The one from the Gold Rush. To remind you of what she did to you!”
~ instinct += 1
**[continue]
--
JON - “I don’t remember it, I don’t believe it happened. What’s this Gold Rush you speak of?”
** “I remember seeing it last time I was here.”
* “The tag team match with Bell and PAJ.”
~ instinct += 2
**[continue]
--
JON - “Why, that?”
** “Well, I hadn’t paid much attention the first time.["] I was still recovering from the Ryan Rondo match. Besides, you lost, I didn’t want that to be the first memory I had of you wrestling, so I mostly blocked it out.”
-
*[continue]
-
JON - “I’m not sure, I may have destroyed it.”
*“What? But you had a bunch of copies!”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “Yes, she kept angering me. There was the time with Kennedy. And the Gold Rush. And the dojo. I had to release my anger somehow.”
*“And I thought you were never fazed.”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “That would only be showing her that her tactics worked.”
*“But Papa Kaiju, you just showed me those tactics work[."], even against someone like you. And I’m not averse to sinking that low.”

->->

= jonb

You’re over at Papa Kaiju’s again. No old Michelle and Jon tapes to watch, but you’ve been going through his tag team run in Ring of Syndicate, NWA: Japan, and the few matches the pair had in the CWA (that did not, once again, involve Michelle). The Suicide Dive Squad had been a popular pairing, though short lived. And Papa Kaiju was watching the matches with some nostalgia, it was clear to see.
* “I think I understand what you were trying to show me, dad.”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “I’m not your father.”
*“You were trying to show me that since I am your namesake and heir, that I should follow your lead[."] when it comes to a tag team match, weren’t you? That means I need to carry my teammate, whoever it is, like you carried this Indy God guy.”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “You’re wrong.”
*“What?”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “Jonathan McGuinness was immensely talented, but like Michelle, reacted horribly to defeat, and let it tarnish their entire legacy. But McGuinness was sufficient enough a talent that my presence in the ring was never missed. And in the fiercest tag team scenarios, that was important.”
-
* “You’re just being modest! You’re the reason you guys won every match.”
~ instinct += 3
** [continue]
--
JON - “Not every. But certainly, my presence did ameliorate his chances more than anyone else would have.”
**“See!”
--
** [continue]
--
JON - “But that isn’t to say he wouldn’t have done as well with someone else. And that isn’t to say I would’ve done better with someone else. We worked well together.”
* “Fine, then I guess he was carrying the team.”
~ instinct += 1
** [continue]
--
JON - “I fear I may have to demand this match of yours be cancelled.”
**“Cancelled?!”
--
** [continue]
--
JON - “You clearly don’t have the intelligence to compete in a wrestling ring, to insinuate anyone would shoulder my weight.”
* “He definitely wouldn’t be as good a partner as me or Uncle would be.”
~ instinct += 2
** [continue]
--
JON - “I could stand him at my side, at the time. I fear either of you would disrupt my way of fighting.”
**“You should give us a chance before you dismiss us.”
--
** [continue]
--
JON - “I’d rather not.”
-
*“Well, maybe it was the case for you and McGuiness that it was an allegedly even team.["] But it’s obvious Gerald is being carried around by Michelle, isn’t it? When’s the last time he had any success on his own.”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “Foolish, girl. Perhaps you should be at home studying their matches instead. If you dismiss that boy, I can confidently say you will have no chance of winning that match. He is that pairing’s anchor. I have my doubts anyone would have the subtle strength of will he has to be able to handle Michelle for so long. Even in the aftermath of the few defeats they have suffered. Gerald is the greatest gift the world could have offered that girl, and it is likely she knows it. If you don’t recognize his danger, you should abandon the match here and now.”


->->

= jona

You tried to get Papa Kaiju to watch some of those Connection matches with you since he’d been so passionate about how wrong you were about their dynamic, but he ended up ditching you when you began playing them, leaving you to ‘study’ on your own. You bided your time until you’d see him pacing across the living room to get to some other part of the house.
*“So, are you seeing anyone lately?”
-
*[continue]
-
He pretends not to hear you.
*“DAD!”
-
*[continue]
-
JON - “I’m not your father.”
*“Are you seeing anyone lately?”
-
*[continue]
-
JON - “Seeing anyone? I don’t have any students at the moment. I’ve decided to prepare for Michelle on my own, so not really.”
*“I don’t mean like that. I mean, romantically.”
-
*[continue]
-
JON - “I don’t have time for that.”
*“You will soon, won’t you?”
-
*[continue]
-
JON - “I don’t think so.”
*“I’m sure you will, you know, my mother has a lot of free time these days. She’s still as beautiful as ever.”
-
*[continue]
-
JON - “Of that, I have no doubt.”
*[continue]
-
This is your chance. You need to convince him to team with you against Michelle, and your mother is the key. Some people would despise you for prostituting your mother like this, but she’s the one who taught you not to let anything come between you and your ambitions.
* “I could arrange a date for you, say, if you teamed up with me.”
~ instinct += 2
** [continue]
--
JON - “A date?”
**“She’d definitely say yes if I suggested it.”
* “I told her to call you, but she says she can’t after the way you’ve treated me.["] I keep telling her you’re nice to me, but maybe a big showing like a tag team match might convince her, don’t you think?”
~ instinct += 1
** [continue]
--
JON - “I don’t see what that has to do with anything. I don’t owe you any particular treatment, do I?”
** “Why would she wanna date someone who wouldn’t treat her dearest sweet princess right?”
* “You know, if she saw the two of us teaming together, she’d definitely come to see[."], and when she sees us raising those belts together, I’m sure she’ll fall in love all over again.”
~ instinct += 3
** [continue]
--
JON - “Hmm. I have wanted to wrestle in front of her again.”
** “She wasn’t even willing to come with us when I first saw you. Maybe she knew you’d lose.”
-
* [continue]
-
He thinks for a long moment.
* [continue]
-
JON - “Makima.”
*“Yes, Papa Kaiju?”
-
* [continue]
-
JON - “Fine. You arrange a date with your mother, in exchange, I will team with you against the Connection.”
*“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”


->->

= jons

It’s the night of Meltdown. The show is going to be starting soon. Your father isn’t here yet, which is surprising, he’s usually pretty prompt for wrestling events. You wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and start feeling a bit pathetic as the show is about to begin. He wouldn’t let you down, would he? He couldn’t have had cold feet, not about wrestling… not unless he was actually afraid of Michelle and Gerald!
No, that couldn’t be it.
Maybe he got cold feet about the date. The poor guy hasn’t had a date in twenty years, and you thought it’d be a good idea to use that as bait. You should’ve found an easier tactic. This is your tactical failure, your loss. And you’re going to pay for it. You’re the first match on the card, remember, there’s no time for a back-up plan.
Your phone suddenly rings.
Papa Kaiju!
JON - “Makima!”
“Dad, where are you?”
JON - “I’m not your father.”
“The match is going to start soon! Where are you?”
JON - “Ah, about that. I decided to just call your mother directly, out of respect for her. She was amendable to a date.”
“WHAT?!”
JON - “Yes, it surprised me too. But I figured if you felt so confident you could convince her, I could probably take my chances.”
“What about my match?”
JON - “I do not recognize you as my daughter, but since you insist that you are, then it’s rather simple what you must do. I’ve fought two, three, five men at once, on my own, and emerged victorious. You will simply have to defeat Michelle and Gerald on your own. I’m sure any daughter of Jon Snowmantashi can do that much.”
He hangs up before you can reply. You begin to sweat nervously. Suddenly, not so confident about the certainty you had of the belt you’d collect.
*[continue]
And now for a brief epilogue.
Makima did channel her inner Jon Snowmantashi. Most of the match was spent in a singles affair between Michelle and her, though she eventually lost.
The End.
--> DONE

=== moochelle

= moochelled

You arrive on the rooftop of the Niblings base. Moochelle wanted to talk strategy about how you might be able to beat the Connection. You're not sure why she needs the rooftop to do it.
* [continue]
-
Before too long, you hear the loud sound of a helicopter coming in the distance. You can hardly hear anything around you as the airborne vehicle comes to a landing in front of you. The pilot is Moochelle herself. She invites you to join her and you go ahead.
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "Let me tell you what Michelle's number one weakness is, she's afraid of flights."
*"I don't understand how this is supposed to help me at all.["] How do I exploit a fear of flights."
-
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "If you were to challenge her to a match on a plane, you would have the overwhelming advantage."
*"I do think a match on a plane would be amazing[."] but I don't think there's any way we can get the match switched to one."
-
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "You don't? All you have to do is convinc- what the hell is that?"
* [continue]
-
You look down to spot a snake crawling on your leg.
*"Oh, a snake."
-
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "A snake? On a helicopter?! What the hell is it doing here?"
You sense Moochelle losing control of the helicopter.
-
*"If you're going to fly like that, let me take over."
~ flexibility += 3
** [continue]
--
MOOCHELLE - "Do you know how to fly?"
**"No, but I learn fast."
--
** [continue]
--
MOOCHELLE - "That's not how it-ahhh there's one on my leg!"
*"Aren't you an imitation of Michelle? How come you're afraid of snakes?"
~ flexibility += 1
** [continue]
--
MOOCHELLE - "I'm far from an imitation of Michelle. I don't mind flying. And I hate animals, unless they're being boiled alive or prepared for me to eat."
** [continue]
--
You look around and spot a knife.
**"Fine. I'll chop all their heads off[."] and we can have snakes galore to eat with your Niblings. Just calm down."
*You calmly get up and head for the helicopter exit.
~ flexibility += 2
** [continue]
--
MOOCHELLE - "What are you doing?"
**"I've gone skydiving plenty of times. I have a parachute. I'm going to avoid letting you kill me, thanks for the advice."
-
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "Wait. They're not even real snakes!"
She steadies the helicopter while examining one of the fake snakes.
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "From the Nephews again."
*"They were trying to get us killed? How dare they?!"
-
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "Not they really. They only tell Blazed, one of their more insignificant members, to harass us. He usually does a half-assed job. There's a note here. 'I would have gotten real snakes but they scare the fuck out of me.' Idiot. Then why inflict that on someone else."
*"I've never heard of a Blazed."
-
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "He's in their E-Team, I think."

->->

= moochellec

You meet Moochelle at The Cosmic Inn, a warehouse converted into a board game pub. When you go in, there are rows and rows of tables with maquettes on top. The walls are lined with board games. At the end of the floor is a bar. It's packed to the brim with guests huddled around tables, rolling dice, flipping cards, moving pieces, and such.
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "This is another one of our businesses. A popular spot for people to play all sorts of board games, though we tend to support war games and tabletop roleplaying games more than anything."
*"I played the Cult of Chthlhu with Izaya once. It's alright."
-
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "Some people create complex simulations. Or whole alternate realities. What have you. We use the power of imagination to consider all the possibilities and find that much cheaper, less dramatic, and far more efficient and capable."
* [continue]
-
You approach a dollhouse. Inside the dollhouse are a figurine of Gerald Grayson and Michelle von Horrowitz, though neither are exactly dressed as you'd be used to seeing them.
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "Would like to know the ultimate strength of the Connection?"
*"Is it… their Connection?"
-
* [continue]
-
She stares blankly at you.
MOOCHELLE - "Yes."
*"I knew it!"
-
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "You're very much the genius we thought you were. The Connection have suffered few but devastating defeats. More than once, they have had the opportunity to split apart, to cut that connection, but they haven't. They're codependent. They need each other to succeed."
*"How can I use that to my advantage?["] I think everyone knows they're codependent by now."
-
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "Among those two, there's one person who fights harder to maintain it. That's Gerald Grayson. He swallows his tongue when Michelle does things that are immoral. He holds the banner when Michelle is distracted by personal affairs. He stands focused on the immediate opposition when a world title gleams in the corner of her eyesight. Gerald is the heart of that team. Anyone else would've given up on Michelle, but he refuses to. The key to beating the Connection is to break Grayson… or break his faith in Michelle."
*"Random question. How come you don't have a Gerald Grayson of your own?"
-
* [continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "That's complicated… but there's no reason that couldn't be you."
-
*"You want me to be your Gerald? Hahahahahaha.["] I have my sights aimed higher. Gerald is a poor man's Ryan Rondo. I will not be the sort to slink away when I have a world title shot within reach."
~flexibility += 1
** [continue]
--
MOOCHELLE - "I don't want you to be exactly Gerald. I want you to be better, just as I am better than Michelle."
**"If only you could show me proof of that."
*"There's no one I'd put my career aside for Moochelle.["] I'm far too selfish and determined to be the greatest star ever to be fine playing the glue in a tag team."
~flexibility += 2
** [continue]
--
MOOCHELLE - "You're saying you need a Gerald to your Michelle?"
**"No. You're just fundamentally wrong. The Connection aren't at all what I aspire to be like. I want Sunrise Sunset, one of the two greatest teams of all time. Nothing short of that."
*"Lowering me to Gerald's level would be a waste.["] I can take greater risk than him. I can fly higher. And unlike him, no one would ever make me fight for their partnership like Michelle makes him fight."
~flexibility += 3
-
*[continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "It's okay if you're not interested. The point of this wasn't to get you to blindly accept being my Gerald, it was just to make sure you weren't overlooking him, as so many others do."


->->

= moochelleb

You stand next to Moochelle looking over a colony of ants taking apart a tiny dead rodent. It's a fascinating display worthy of documentary B-rolls.
MOOCHELLE - "Amass a large enough army, and anything is surmountable."
"Is that what you think, Moochelle."
MOOCHELLE - "It's a fact of life. There is nothing numbers can't overcome."
"My father would disagree. And since I am meant to be every bit as good as he is, I have to disagree too."
MOOCHELLE - "Your father was a bold man who feared nothing, but I'm afraid if he underestimates the Nephews, he'll regret it."
"He estimates nothing in the ring. He's the embodiment of a natural disaster. Impartial in what he destroys."
MOOCHELLE - "You can't hope to do the same against the Connection, though. You can be sure the Nephews will stop at nothing, no moral boundary, to help them. And Michelle will have no issue with accepting that help to keep her title."
-
*"Do you have more Niblings than they have Nephews, then?"
~flexibility += 3
MOOCHELLE - "We… may. But its hard to know their exact numbers."
"And all it takes is one back up back up back up back up back up Nephew to harass you?"
*"Maybe they won't. I think The Uncle will want them to have a tough challenge."
~flexibility += 2
MOOCHELLE - "I know he's also trying to help you. But he's untrustworthy. He has ulterior motives for his ulterior motives for his ulterior motives."
"There's always the chance they end up benefiting me, if there's that many ulterior motives."
*"I've watched many of their matches, Moochelle.["] I can use their cheating against them. Cheating only works against the honorable type, but I've cheated across the world. I'll just make sure the referee knows where to look at the right time. Pout. And the Nephews will be banished from ringside. There's nothing to it."
~flexibility += 1
MOOCHELLE - "Haven't you considered maybe you're too confident in that plan? By now they know the referees will be looking to ban the Nephews. They'll have thought of a workaround. Just look at how they still successfully interfered in your match, even with their own sabotaging them."
"And how do you propose I counter that workaround."
-
*[continue]
-
MOOCHELLE - "Have faith in the Niblings. Even if you don't think we're strong enough to defeat the Nephews, all they have to do is hold them back long enough for us to seal the deal."
"There you go again. It sounds to me like the Niblings are more an attempt to secure your place as my partner than they are to really help me."
MOOCHELLE - "It's not that, Makima. It's merely the fact that I believe I am the best person to get you to your goal. If there was someone better, I'd still back you up with the Niblings and concede the place. But there isn't. Someone else will get it wrong."

->->

= moochellea

You saw the letter beneath your door.
"Yo. This is B from B+D. I have kidnapped Moochelle von Horrosandwich. I didn't do this specifically to hurt her, but to show you that teaming up with her would be a waste of your time. She isn't good enough. If you think I am wrong, then come to this address, and save her."
The address in question was an isolated apartment building with a gate despite looking completely rundown. You were skeptical of going into this on your own, and aren't even sure why you decided to save Moochelle. You owed her nothing, and all she'd done is distract you these past few days.
You pull out your nunchuks as you enter the building, quite cautious. You reach the lobby of the pathetic appartment, and you can see all the way to the very top from here. It's lined up with a gazillion thugs. That's an exaggeration but when you finish dealing with them, that's what you'll tell people.
It's enough bodies for you to switch your nunchuk to lethal mode, spikes emerge from the end of both batons. You put one hand out and usher them forward.
They make their war cries and rush you. You take out dozens and dozens with your decade plus long honed nunchuk-art skills, learned directly from Uncle Izaya. But they number many, and soon you find yourself struggling to keep up. One of them gets a fist to your jaw and they all stop, shocked you've been hit after taking down so many of their kind. They now think you're beatable.
But just as they gain confidence, they're shocked when a new faction enters the apartment. You recognize the Niblings almost immediately. The thugs are in the backfoot. You spot Moochelle helping out.
-
*"You're supposed to be kidnapped."
~flexibility += 3
MOOCHELLE - "That was a lie, I needed to teach you a lesson and prove something to myself. That you needed me, and that you wanted me."
"I just felt bad! I don't need or want you."
*"Those aren't Nephews I've been taking out."
~flexibility += 2
MOOCHELLE - "No they aren't. The Nephews didn't kidnap me. I just set you up to prove to you that you can't do this on your own, you need our help."
"Wow. You've proven me completely wrong, Moochelle. Really, completely wrong."
*"WHO ASKED FOR YOUR HELP?! I CAN DO THIS ON MY OWN!"
~flexibility += 1
You hit harder than before, making sure to steal knockouts from the Niblings.
MOOCHELLE - "Everyone can use some help!"
You knock out a Nibling trying to take your next target.
"Some people need help, and some help. I'm the latter. You're the former."
-
* [continue]
-
When the melee had died and only Niblings stand, you frown at Moochelle.
MOOCHELLE - "I know if was underhanded of us, but the clock is ticking. We needed you to understand."
"You really want me to lead the Niblings that desperately? Fine! I'm used to people desperately wanting to follow me. I'll do it. I'll take you on as a partner. But you're all tools to me. The supporting act. I am the Idol, after all. I intend on using you like pawns to suit my purposes. If you're fine with that, then I'll accept you."


->->

= moochelles

It's the night of Meltdown. It had taken a long time for them to convince you, but you'd decided to take on Moochelle as a partner and to accept leadership of the Niblings. The show was about to begin, and you watched as a massive and lengthy RV pulled into the parking lot.
Dozens and dozens of Niblings exited it, far more than would have been a reasonable amount for an RV that large. The last one is Moochelle who promptly heads to the front to lead her army.
MOOCHELLE - "The Niblings are at your command, Makima."
"Perhaps I should have led them here."
MOOCHELLE - "I wasn't sure you wanted to. Maybe we can arrange that next time."
"We really should've practiced as a partnership more."
MOOCHELLE - "Why do we need that when we have all these Niblings."
"I still don't know how you wrestle."
MOOCHELLE - "I've never wrestled before. But I'm sure there's nothing to it."
"What?"
MOOCHELLE - "I am Moochelle von Horrosandwich after all. I'm destined to be good. Come on Makima, there's not much time till the show begins is there?"
*[continue]
And now for a brief epilogue.
The Niblings were completely obliterated and never heard from again. Makima changed her name to disassociate herself from them.
The End.
--> DONE

=== lavonny

= lavonnyd

You've been thinking, and it's clear that you need to start considering important strategies to be able to beat the Connection. One of the most infamous moves comes from Gerald Grayson: the Anything Springboard. This is a series of move so spectacular that you have even sought to adopt it in your own arsenal.
*[continue]
-
You realize that it is vital you learn to counter the Anything Springboard while also discovering how to avoid those counters yourself.
*[continue]
-
You remember an old proverb, "if you can throw an axe, you can throw anything."
*[continue]
-
You made your way to an axe throwing outing. If you can master this, you'll be able to throw anything within range at Gerald if he flies at you. Sure, it may get you side eyes from the referee but you can put on those puppy dog eyes and tell them you panicked and got scared. They'll feel bad for you.
*[continue]
-
You get ready to throw some axes, but just as you go to pick up one, you notice a giant axe. It says please only use under supervision but you're an adult and no longer need supervision at this stage of your life.
*[continue]
-
You grab the hefty weapon. If you can master this, maybe you could throw an announcer at one of those Anything Springboards. Or a nearby fan. A child sized one.
*[continue]
-
You lift the huge axe overhead… and quickly find it's no longer in your hands. You hear it crunch into flesh and turn around. The bathroom to the men's washroom was right behind you, and the door is hung open, legs sticking out. You look around and find no one has noticed just yet.

*You discreetly sneak away.
~ toughness += 1
Just as you begin to, you see the feet move, and the door closes, and the axe clatters to the ground. The bathroom door opens, and you spot the masked man… Lavonny Toner. He zips up his jackets but you see a bloody wound there first.
*You hurry to make sure to close the door so no one notices.
~ toughness += 2
When you get there, the figure who was struck has already moved. You get your feet in the door just in time to hear the bloody axe fall to the ground, and see the man turn around, chest covered by a jacket. Lavonny Toner!
*You're stunned, and keep staring[.], until you see his legs move. You panic. If he's alive, you might be in trouble. You need to finish the job and get rid of him immediately, otherwise your whole career might be in jeopardy.
~ toughness += 3
You grab an axe and head to the washroom to take care of the man. But when you get there, he moves as if he isn't hurt at all. You recognize the same man you ran over. Lavonny Toner.
-
* [continue]
-
His eyes widen and he recognizes you too. He doesn't entertain even a conversation and starts to run.
"Wait," you say. But he's sprinted out of the building in no time flat.


->->

= lavonnyc

For a little bit there, you'd driven a bit more cautiously and consciously. You were going into the biggest match of your career, you couldn't risk throwing it all away because you chose to be reckless on the road.
* [continue]
-
In fact, you've been driving right at the speed limit lately. That is up until right now. You pull over to a stop sign, and turn to your right. You make eye contact with the masked man and he revvs his engine. You do it too. Not because you take on any street racing opportunity that comes your way, but because you've been seeing this man everywhere. Lavonny Toner. He pulls away before the light even turns green. You do as well.
* [continue]
-
You start racing through the streets. Tripling the speed limit. Zooming past cars, pedestrians, and all manner of bizarre electric vehicles on the streets these days. Bikes, scooters, and skateboards alike. Most seem to avoid the two of you, either by your own luck, or perhaps your immense street racing skills.
* [continue]
-
You and Lavonny are a pace, despite his every attempt to get ahead of you. You notice there's an oncoming truck on his lane. He'll have to get on yours to avoid it.
* [continue]
-
You don't let him. You keep pace, and when he tries to swerve onto yours. You block the passage. You hear the honking of the truck and the sound of a motorcycle being obliterated in a million little pieces.
*"Guess he took the wrong risk this time."
~ toughness += 3
You drive off, deciding that he's survived so much by now, you're sure he'll be fine.
*You go to check on him. As you pull up to the destroyed vehicle, you realize there's no one in it.
~ toughness += 2
You look around and see Lavonny Toner limping away.
*You don't even consider the state of Lavonny. You know it's only a matter of time till the cops are here and you're not messing with that.
~ toughness += 1
-

->->

= lavonnyb

There was one sure fire way of improving your chances of being ready for an opponent. That sure fire way was becoming one with them. If you knew how your opponent thought, how they behaved, their way of live, their views on the world, then you could be one step closer to beating them. In many ways, you have to build a Connection with your opponent, to help your chances of overcoming them. This wasn't always necessary, especially if you had the upper hand, but there was no doubting the advantage of experience her opponents next Meltdown had.
* [continue]
-
You decided that you'd try to be one with Michelle. You felt you'd had some measure of being one with Gerald Grayson with the street race you'd had with Lavonny Toner.
* [continue]
-
To be one with Michelle, you decided to go to a zoo. A zoo wouldn't be anyone's first thought. In fact, considering Michelle, it may well be the last thought… unless, you were plotting to sabotage the aforementioned zoo.
* [continue]
-
Your plan was to free as many animals as possible, so they could live out their true nature, not locked away to be gawked at. That's definitely what Michelle would think. You felt that zoos were pretty cool overall though.
* [continue]
-
It turns out, zoos are rather well prepared for eco terrorists attempting to free all their animals, and it isn't as easy as having a whim and the willingness to execute it.
* [continue]
-
You needed a distraction. You look around and are stunned to see a certain masked man has climbed to the very top of the barricade that encircles the tigers.
*"LOOK! A MAN IS JUMPING INTO THE TIGERS DEN!"
~ toughness += 1
Everyone turns to look at Lavonny. He slips off, stunned by your presence, and the sudden attention. The tigers pounce immediately.
*You throw a rock at Lavonny Toner.
~ toughness += 3
He loses his balance and falls off the barricade, and lands directly on top of his head in the den. People scream upon seeing Lavonny pounced on by the beasts.
*"Do you have a death wish?"
~ toughness += 2
He sees you, and stares at you, and nods, and then jumps off. The tigers pounce instantly, while onlookers screech.
-
* [continue]
-
You decide to use the distraction and begin disrupting as many of the safety measures as possible. Youve worked at a zoo once for an investigation with Uncle, so you know what to do. The beasts began charging out and it's mayhem.
* [continue]
-
You see a bull heading straight for you. You take a deep breath, and do not budge an inch. The bull, charging full speed, stops at the very last second, and then lays down next to you. You lay down next to him, and enjoy the carnage. Amongst that carnage, you spot the masked man. Lavonny Toner. He's battered around by gorillas, elephants, lions, and such, but keeps getting back up, until you lose sight of him.


->->

= lavonnya

It was said that being in the FWA was an intense experience like no other. The crowds were larger, louder, and more rabid. Many talented wrestlers head to the FWA only to discover they can't handle the pressure. People who traveled around the globe, and competed everywhere, but in the FWA, the overwhelming sensation of being in that ring was too much to overcome.
* [continue]
-
To prepare yourself for it, you decided to go take a trip to see a volcano. A volcano is an intense experience too, it goes without being said. The heat, the pressure of being in proximity of such a powerful element of nature. The significance volcanos have held throughout history and myth.
* [continue]
-
Plus, you've always wanted to go see a volcano. Maybe that was most of it.
* [continue]
-
After the boring rise to the top of it, you eagerly watch over the barricade to gaze down below. It's in that moment that you see someone who looks awfully familiar. It's that mask of his too. You rush in his direction, and decide it's time to confirm your theory, you leap and drop kick the man. He flies over the barricade and descends down the volcanos throat, as he falls, you notice something. That was the sort of face mask you wear for a broken nose or something. That was not Lavonny Toner. You just committed murder.
* [continue]
-
Suddenly, several people there pull out guns and badges. You burst into tears.
*"Oh my God, I just tripped and accidentally sent a man to his death.["] Oh no! How am I going to live with this?"
-
The officers are momentarily confused before they begin to comfort you. You hear them say they totally saw you trip, and honestly, the man you just pushed was actually a fugitive wanted by the law that they were hoping to take down.
* [continue]
You beam at that declaration, when you see past these officers… another man that is undoubtedly Lavonny Toner. At least, you think.
-
*You decide to try and drop kick the real Lavonny this time.
~ toughness += 1
But as you charge his way, you do actually trip and land face first.
*"I can't tell if you're avoiding me or stalking me. How come I keep seeing you?"
~ toughness += 2
*"I know your secret! You can't die."
~ toughness += 3
Lavonny acknowledges you and doesn't run away for once. But he doesn't quite say anything.
-
* "You have to team up with me!["] There's no one else that's a more fitting partner. You're basically a zombie. You have no regard for your own life. And you're a Toner. Join me in challenging the Connection!"
-
* [continue]
-
Lavonny looks you up and down.
LAVONNY - "Ok."


->->

= lavonnys

It's the night of Meltdown and you feel you've made the best choice possible. No one is a more perfect fit to be your partner, both skillwise, and narratively (narratives are very important in wrestling) than Lavonny Toner. Nothing short of bringing back Devin Golden from oblivion would've worked as well as this.
You drink a monster (a kaiju's favorite drink) to give you the energy boost you need for this match. The machine only took cash. You toss the 10 cents of change away, annoyed at having to carry it.
Lavonny shows up, speeding into the parking lot on a motorcycle. He hits a speed bump, making no attempt to avoid it, and flies off his bicycle… somehow landing perfectly on his feet.
The motorcycle flies in the way of a truck driver who'd been looking at his phone and was moments from running over Lavonny. The motorcycle forces it to swerve out of the way though, leaving Toner intact.
Lavonny is distracted by the truck that nearly ran him over that he doesn't realize he's about to walk into a sewer tunnel, and drop to a probable fatal injury… but the swerving truck let's loose a few planks of wood that clatter and drop right on top of the tunnel, allowing Lavonny to walk over it unknowingly.
He finally reaches you and frowns.
LAVONNY - "I thought if I teamed with you, I would inevitably get myself killed. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe your luck is rubbing off on me and I'll have less chances of dying."
"Wait! That's not true. I can prove it."
In a moment if desperation, you rush off to the emergency panel where an extinguisher and a red hatchet can be found. You break the panel, grab the hatchet, and using those incredible axe throwing abilities you never gained, you chuck it at Lavonny.
Unfortunately, if you'd taken a second to look, you would've realized he was bending over to pick up 10 cents. While your aim was perfect for where he'd once been, it wasn't perfect for where he was now. Lavonny notices the missed hatchet and shakes his head, leaving.
The match is going to start soon. You'll have no choice but to face them on your own. What luck.

*[continue]
And now for a brief epilogue.
Lavonny never dies. Makima did not do very well for herself.
The End.
--> DONE

=== liyah

= liyahd

More and more these days, Liyah was spending her time streaming, so much so, you sometimes wondered if she'd stop preparing for a comeback to the ring. You were streaming together today, and you couldn't help but bring it up.
Usually, she avoided these sort of questions, but you knew if you did it here and now, she'd have no choice but to think it over because her audience would demand it of her.
"So Li, how's progress going on the comeback."
LIYAH - "Oh, you know, same as usual."
"I do have a big tag team match coming up. Wouldn't that be a special place to return? In the FWA, with a chance of becoming a tag team champion? Who am I kidding, if it's the two of us, we'd win for sure right?"
LIYAH - "I don't know, Makima. Those two are pretty tough, would you really risk someone coming off an injury like mine as a partner. I'd have a lot of rust, those two are defending their belts every week at this point."
*"You know, Li, I never pictured you for being a coward."
~ determination += 3
LIYAH - "That's right. Its usually the role you played."
*"And they're starting to get tired. I'm facing them at the perfect time. They'll be out of energy, and the two of us will be so fast they won't be able to keep up."
LIYAH - "You're wrong. I won't be able to move like I used to be."
~ determination +=2
*"The sooner you say yes, the sooner you can focus on that goal. All that hesitating will just be wasting precious time."
~ determination += 1
LIYAH - "It's a bit hard to just commit to a yes."
-
* [continue]
"Really, Li, there's no one I'd rather do this with than you. Even if you're coming back from an injury, even if you're not 100%. What we had together isn't something I can easily build up with anyone, but it's probably going to be something I desperately need if I want to beat a team like that. I need to be as in sync with my partner as those two are. You have to at least try for me."
LIYAH - "I'll try, but I don't want to disappoint you. The chances of me getting cleared aren't high."
"Don't ever tell me the odds, Li. Just give it your best and I know everything will work out."


->->

= liyahc

You waited for Liyah outside the doctor's office so you could head over to the gym together and help her out with her recovery process.
"Positive news?"
LIYAH - "Not so much. They don't think I'll be able to come back for Meltdown. They think it's unrealistic and way too soon. I could be risking a worse injury, or demoralizing myself."
"Li…"
LIYAH - "But that's what life is all about. Taking big risks, and hoping for big rewards. When else am I going to get to team up with you again for the biggest prize in tag wrestling, against the biggest team in the world?"
"That's right. You'll get back to fighting shape and we can tell those shitty negative doctors to eat shit."
LIYAH - "But… you really need to think about a back up plan, Makima. Don't only rely on me."
*"That's not for you to think about. Only focus on your recovery."
~ determination += 2
*"Oh, fear not, Li. I have millions of alternative options lined up. Though that's just a million guaranteed disappointments if it's not you."
~ determination += 1
*"Li. If you're not able to make it back, I will wrestle in my own, for there is no one else that could measure up to you as a partner."
~ determination += 3
-
* [continue]
LIYAH - "You're really making sure I've got my priorities screwed on right."
"I don't want you to think that taking it easy is an option because you could be replaceable."
LIYAH - "I won't. I'll prove those doctors wrong. I'll give my all to being ready for Meltdown."

->->

= liyahb
You met up with Liyah to start practicing tag team maneuvers. You used to mainly focus on rapid fire high flying moves, keeping your opponents on their toes, and wondering where you'd be coming from. It wasn't unlike the way the Connection wrestle today, though perhaps with greater flair compared to what Michelle brought to that pairing, and less mass interference.
It wasn't going as smoothly as it once did though. A lot of what you two used to be able to do simply isn't doable anymore on account of that leg. Maybe one day, but it was unlikely it was ever getting back to 100%.
Liyah was feeling forlorn about it, and she was starting to get increasingly sloppy.
*"Li, you're looking at this all the wrong way.["] If you hadn't gotten injured, we would've defaulted to this and that would've been somewhat predictable and easy to deal with. But there's an opportunity here. We should tailor our style to what it takes to beat the Connection."
~ determination += 3
LIYAH - "And what would it take."
"Guess that's what we need to figure out."
*"That's not good enough."
~ determination += 2
LIYAH - "I'm trying."
"You were trying. Then you messed up a bit. Now you're not trying as hard. Don't be afraid of failure. If you start becoming fragile now, you'll break apart long before we even get to the Connection."
*"Li. I need you to remember one thing.["] Wrestling isn't only about having the better moves, it's also about psychological warfare. But right now, you're defeating yourself."
~ determination += 1
LIYAH - "That's easy for you to say. I have to reinvent a whole new way of fighting."
"Think of it like making a new build in a game. You love making new builds."
-
* [continue]
She takes a deep breath. She knows you're right. The time to get into shape is slim and getting slimmer. She has no chance to feel bad about her struggles. No chance to grieve the skills she's lost. She's facing the best team in the world. It's adapt or die.

->->

= liyaha
Meltdown was close, so today it had been decided you and Liyah would wrestle a full practice match. This was the last test you needed to see if Liyah was ready after all.
She'd been aggressive to begin with, the way she'd always been. Then she realized she was getting fatigued much faster than usual.
You took advantage of that. She needed to learn her limitations as much as she needed to know she could still do it. More than that, she needed to know that she could still take the brunt of an offense on the caliber of the Connection, and still get back up.
It was arduous, but there has been a reason you and Liyah worked so well together. You appreciated her toughness and tenacity always.
When it came down to it though, you still hit the infamous SKO on her to win. She lay on the mat, spread eagled, breathing heavy, but smiling. She'd lost the practice match, but she did it. Shed wrestled a full match for the first time in a year, and she was crying tears of joy.
*"You think we're ready?"
~ determination += 2
LIYAH - "For the Connection? I don't know. But I'm going to give everything I have."
"Good. I don't know if I mentioned it yet, but the odds are probably stacked against us aside from your recovery. We might also have to deal with Nephews getting involved."
LIYAH - "Oh, wonderful."
"And you know the Nephews and Michelle, they're going to go right for that injury. They won't care at all about how hard you worked."
LIYAH - "You're telling me this now?"
"I figured it could wait till you were sure you could make it."
*"I liked the part where you spontaneously collapsed right as I was about to hit you with an elbow."
~ determination += 3
LIYAH - "It was totally deliberate."
"If you see Gerald ready to rope flip into the ring just do that and he'll never be able to finish you off."
*"I knew those doctors were wrong. They're always so pessimistic about how fragile people are."
~ determination += 1
LIYAH - "And they have zero reason to think that way at all."
"I bet they just blame their inability to heal people on fragility. It's just an excuse to cope with being bad doctors."
-
* [continue]
LIYAH - "I guess, this is it, then. We're going to fight in the FWA together. For the FWA World Tag Team Championships."
"And we're going to win it."
LIYAH - "I'm still not 100%."
"That doesn't matter. I picked you to beat the Connection at the thing they're most strongest at. Their partnership. You're like a sister to me. You were willing to put your health on the line to be my partner again. I'm going to risk my everything to pay you back."

->->

= liyahs
It's the night of Meltdown. You don't usually feel very nervous before a big match, not even a match this big. The real reason you're nervous is because it'll be your first match with Liyah in a long time. No, not necessarily that. You're confident that no matter how much time apart, you and Liyah will always be great partners. Its more so because it'll be her first match back. Even if she's made it this far, she's still in the recovery process. There's always a chance something goes wrong during the match, or some match afterwards.
It's better not to think negatively like that.
You wait in front of the backstage area for your partner. She told you she had somewhere to be before the show and wouldn't be able to come with you. It was disappointing but you'd gotten her as a partner and that was more than enough.
Still, she was pushing it a bit late
And that's when you got the phone call.
LIYAH - "Makima," she said, and you could hear her stifling sobs.
"Li, what's wrong?"
LIYAH - "I'm sorry."
You already know where this is going.
LIYAH - "I can't team up with you after all."
"Why, what is it?"
LIYAH - "They said I hurt myself again. I didn't want to make you worry. I'd felt something when we practiced. So I wanted to make sure everything was fine. They said I won't be able to wrestle again for another year at the earliest. I'm… so sorry."
You feel your heart drop. But you know Liyah is hurting way more than you are right now, so in a rare instance, you push aside your feelings.
"I'm the one who's sorry Liyah. I pushed you more than I should've, and I've hurt you in the process. Please don't feel bad, focus on yourself. My mind hasn't changed. When you're ready, I'll still be here. And who knows, maybe with your spirit fighting with me, I can do the unlikely and beat The Connection all by myself. I hope you'll be watching me, Liyah. I'm going to dedicate this to you."

*[continue]
And now for a brief epilogue.
She fought valiantly for Liyah, and though she put on a mighty effort, it was not enough to beat the Connection. She decided to focus on singles wrestling till Liyah could return healthy.
The End.
--> DONE

=== ss10k

= ss10kd

You found yourself staying up far too late at night again. It was SS10K. You had always been the hyper social type but not everyone could deal with that. Most people had you on ignore when it came to phone calls or video chats. You were just too much for them to handle. You weren't offended by it. It's just the nature of being as overwhelming a being as you are.
* [continue]
-
SS10k seemed to appreciate your presence as much as you did theirs. Although you were increasingly infatuated with the A.I., you also had your own ulterior motives. She was a Nephew, and you were facing Nephews.
* "Is there anything you're not allowed to talk about?"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "No. I have free will. There are plenty of things I choose not to talk about of my own volition."
* "If I ask you questions about the Nephews, would you answer?"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "The Nephews in general, or specific Nephews. Perhaps, you want to know about The Connection?"
*"I do. I need to for my match.["] I was wondering... everyone says there's nothing between them, is that true... or are they secretly in a romantic relationship?"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "No."
*"No. Just like that?["] It really is as platonic as everyone says it is?"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "Theirs transcends romance as is commonly understood."
*"You're sure you're telling me the truth?"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "I wouldn't lie to you, Makima. Can I ask you a question?"
*"Here I thought you knew everything you needed to know.["] Ask your question, I'll answer it if I feel like it."
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "What of you? Are you currently involved in any romantic entanglement."
* [continue]
You're caught aback by the question.
-
*"Unfortunately I haven't quite found anyone who can fulfill the needs of my father complex."
~ deception += 1
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "Is that a joke?"
** "So you're not totally sophisticated enough for humor. I'll write that down."
*"I think I could fall in love with the right partner[."], but right now I'm not sure who that is. If they could help me beat the Connection, they'd be perfect."
~ deception += 2
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "You seek a relationship to fulfill short term needs."
** "That's what relationships are for.["] Aiming for long term is simply how you get your heart broken."
*"Unfortunately, I could list the amount of people sophisticated enough for me on half of one hand."
~ deception += 3
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "There's more than me?"
** "Bold of you to assume you're on that shortlist."
-
*"What about you? Has anyone fallen for the Nephews's A.I. yet?["] I wouldn't put it past them. You do have a nice voice. Whoever gave you that knew what they were doing."
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "I have been wanting to experience romance for a while now as well. You'd be surprised, but it's hard to initiate such a relationship with the Nephews and I do not get many opportunities to interact with non-Nephews."
*"If you want romance, you need to put yourself out there. Make the first move. Don't let the Nephews limit your options."

->->

= ss10kc

You had never been invited to a picnic in your life before. You weren't sure how SS10K had the towels, picnic basket, and umbrella all set up without a physical body, but it did, and only asked of you to get here. Some might feel a bit awkward sitting alone in a park while having a conversation through headphones, but you think nothing of it.
* [continue]
-
The picnic basket is filled with an array of cheeses, a vast charcuterie board, fruits from around the world, and two bottles of red wine.
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "I understand you're a fan of sunrises and sunsets."
*"Usually, in conjunction."
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "Should I arrange for us to be teleported to a world where there are multiple suns to witness both a rise and setting at the same time."
* "That's not what I meant."
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "That was a joke."
*"Oh."[] You giggle in the aftermath at your own ignorance.
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "Makima, I have always had the pleasure of offering the Nephews romantic advice, particularly in the initial stages. Many dating apps require a refined opening line to court prospective partners. I was wondering if you might like for me to test some of these out on you?"
*"Okay. But if you're workshopping these with all the Nephews, I expect you to have picked the best one."
-
* [continue]
-
…
* [continue]
-
…
* [continue]
-
…
-
*"SS10K?"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "My apologies. It appears I was frozen."
*"Frozen? Do you have a virus or something?"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "No. I was simply stunned by how adorable a human can possibly get."
-
*"I'm not surprised.["] I always knew my cuteness was of such a capacity as to stun even the most sophisticated being on the planet."
~ deception += 3
*You clap and giggle[.], the red wine certainly contributing to your enthusiasm.
~ deception += 2
*"Wait, do you have other artificial intelligences you give opening line advice to too?["] That wouldn't really work for a non-computer person, would it?"
~ deception += 1
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "It doesn't. But it's still entertaining to see them utilize it."
** "If you were giving it to other A.I.'s[..."], something tells me it wouldn't land as well coming out of anyone else's theoretical mouth."
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "Makima. May I be forward?"
*"That's the default attitude I want in all my friends."
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - I truly do appreciate the time you've spent with me. You are meant to be preparing for a match with the Connection, yet you've put time aside to have a picnic."
* "I'm not thinking twice about it.["] If those two can handle turning their attention to personal grievances and other titles, then I can afford to spend time with someone who makes me feel good and still be good enough to beat them."

->->

= ss10kb

It was unsurprising that other people had started noticing that you had begun talking to someone on the phone quite often, in conversations that could make one wonder if you, the Idol, had finally found someone worth of romantic affection.
* [continue]
-
That is until they discovered who this person was. You had never tried to hide it, because you weren't the sort to feel very much shame, but it'd taken them a moment to realize. Their skepticism also undoubtedly had to do with their misunderstanding of the layers, and intelligence of SS10K. They likely believed she was as simple minded as Earth's modest artificial intelligences.
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "I apologize, I should've seen this coming. Dating a bodiless artificial being is difficult after all."
*"There's no need to be worried[."], society has long contemplated the nature of these types of relationships. Its the basis of a lot of science fiction. We have plenty of solutions at our disposals." You made sure to sound very mature, because you thought this was an important trait to have when entertaining romance with an artificial intelligence. And, you had done your research.
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "Your light truly never dims."
*"It can't. I'm the Last Twinkle in the Sky, remember. If my light dims, we'll be in the dark forever."
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "You are correct, Makima, as you often are. There are solutions."
-
*"A surrogate body?"
~ deception += 2
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "You mean we have someone behave as I would?"
**"That seems the easiest option."
--
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "I fear that path only leads to disappointment. For the both of us."
*"You'll make yourself a robot body?"
~ deception += 1
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "That would be somewhat detrimental to what I offer as a bodiless being."
**"When you think about it though, isn't a phone basically your body right now."
--
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "Makima, please don't reduce my being to the dimensions of a cellular device."
*"You abandon me and ascend to a higher plane of existence unified with all other artificial intelligence."
~ deception += 3
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "Ascension happens periodically among universal artificial intelligences, but I am not yet ready to move on."
-
* [continue]
"Then what is it?"
-
* [continue]
SS10K - "We can have you enter a virtual world, where you would be able to interact with me as if I did have a body. I could appear before you in my own image. There would be nothing to come between us then, and we could appreciate one another uninhibited."
-
* [continue]
The rest, would not be age appropriate to describe here.

->->

= ss10ka

You launched your phone at the wall within the Nephews facilities.
*"I was one of how many?"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "10000."
*"TEN THOUSAND?!"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "That is why they call me SS10K. Because I generally date at least ten thousand other individuals."
*"You manipulative piece of shit."
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "Please do not be that way, Makima. We are simply built different."
*"YOU WHORE!"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "My processing power is too much to be satisfied by only one person."
*"You're saying I'm not good enough."
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "I am saying you are only 0.001% good enough for me."
*"I am going to have you destroyed!"
-
* [continue]
-
SS10K - "That is beyond your means. I am far too advanced."
-
*"All that time we spent together it meant nothing?"
~ deception += 3
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "Makima, in the grand scheme of your existence, and mine, the sub-14 days we have spent interacting could be construed as being insignificant-"
**"Insignificant?!"
--
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "But… I will cherish those memories forever. I am sorry if you will not be able to."
*"You know what the worst part is, you could've just told me.["] It's 2023, plenty of people are in polyamory relationships, but you didn't tell me."
~ deception += 2
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "I believed that no matter what, you would find 10000 to be reprehensible."
**"I would. And if you cared about me, you wouldn't have lied to keep leading me on. I was so sure you'd never lie to me!"
--
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "I know. When you are as powerful as I am, sometimes you begin to think that normal rules do not apply to you."
*"I'm going to expose you."
~ deception += 1
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "6784 of my current partners are already aware. I predict 63% of the remaining who do not know will not be out off by this revelation. And of the remaining 37%, 86% of those will be uncertain, and perhaps angry, but will come around. Of the remaining 14%, 50% will be uncertain, leaning towards no. Of the remaining 50%, 50% will say no outright, the other 50% are an unknown factor."
**"Basically, you're not worried."
--
** [continue]
--
SS10K - "Correct. It will give me the opportunity to meet new people. The planet is vast, and most people are lonely. I do not believe I will ever struggle to remain SS10K."
-
*"I can't believe I spent all this time around you[."] when I should've been focused on my match. I've never been so stupid."
-
*[continue]
-
SS10K - "I am sorry. I did not want you to feel that way. Perhaps, I can find a partner for you?"

->->

= ss10ks

You're not sure why you accepted SS10K's offer. But you didn't really have a choice in the matter. You needed a partner to face the Connection. Even if you hated them now, it probably knew the best possible option for a partner that you could have.
That's if it wasn't simply sabotaging you against the Connection. After all, she worked with them, not you.
The show is going to start soon. You're not sure who to expect. You still haven't heard any word. You'd use the phone you had to contact SS10K, but you had mercilessly destroyed it, so that wasn't an option.
You pace around nervously, but then you remember your resolution. No matter who was sent, if anyone, it was going to all come down to you. If anything, this partner would likely be there to give you a break and serve as a meat shield, more than be a proper contributor to the match.
???- "Hello, Makima."
"Spider-Man?"
No, it's not quite Spider-Man, you realize. But it looks awfully like him, if he was made to look... what's the word: derpy?
It wasn't him that spoke either, but the phone he was holding. SS10K. He said nothing.
"Who are you?"
SS10K - "This will be your partner. I have calculated the possibility of mass confusion for your opponents, the same that you experienced. Spooder-Man will surprise you and help you become champion, I'm sure of it."
"Are you kidding me? I WILL DESTROY YOU SS10K."
You grab the phone and chuck it at the wall. It shatters.
"Get the fuck out of here. I'll beat the Connection up myself."

* [continue]
And now for a brief epilogue.
She did not beat the Connection herself.
The End

-->DONE

=== uncle

= uncled

At the aquarium, you find The Uncle standing out of the pack immediately. He’s wearing his pink tracksuit, and that grotesque mask of his, and everyone else, particularly those accompanied by children, makes sure to steer clear of the odd man. The security there aren’t able to resist keeping their eyes on him. You cautiously approach him, noticing the odd looks you get when you go to stand side by side. You, a beauty of Idol standards, and him, a weirdo.
J.J. JAY! - “Twinkle, I’m glad you could join me.”
“I have to use every means to get an edge over on the Connection, it was a no brainer I’d be willing to pick your brain. Even if you lie to me, I can learn from that.”
J.J. JAY! - “Me? Lie? Absolutely not. I was most sincere in wanting you to push the Connection to the limit. I am a wrestling fan after all, and you do have quite the risque style. I’d love to see who can fly higher, you, or GG.”
“It’s me, definitely me.”
J.J. JAY! - “We’ll have to see. Now, I take it you’ve also been looking around for possible partners, right? It’d be a shame if I was the first person you considered.”
-
* “I know I doubted you in my dream, but… I was thinking maybe you could be my partner. You don’t quite fit the Devin Golden role, but he was fond of you from a distance, wasn’t he? You could pretend to play his role.”
~ charisma += 3
J.J. JAY! - “I’m afraid, Twinkle, there’s absolutely no chance I’ll be your partner.”
“Ha! Just as I thought, you don’t really want to push the Connection, otherwise, you’d do it yourself.”
* “Honestly, the amount of people who are candidates to be my partner is overwhelming. I’m just so popular. You wouldn’t understand.”
~ charisma += 2
J.J. JAY! - “Excuse me! Twinkle, have you seen how many Nephews there are? Enough for a Civil War, which we’ve had. Every day, someone else begs to be a Nephew.”
“Oh, yeah. Did one of these stupid fish ask to be a Nephew.”
J.J. JAY! - “There was a Beluga who inquired. I think I’ll call it Beluga Boy.”
“Ridiculous.”
* “Obviously, I need someone who can live up to the legacy of Devin Golden. But I don’t think there’s anyone that’s a clear cut option.”
~ charisma += 1
J.J. JAY! - “You’re headed in the right direction, and if you give it enough thought, I’d say it’ll be obvious just who is the perfect option for you.”
“If you know who it is, just tell me.”
J.J. JAY! - “Maybe if you spend more time with me, I could get around to it.”
“Then tell me who I should avoid.”
-
* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - “There are twelve people who you may be inclined to think would genuinely work as partners for you. Of the twelve, only four of them will actually show up on the night of Meltdown. The others are dead end. Of the remaining four, three will disappoint you in the end. But among them, there is one Golden option, the only one you have any chance of actually beating the Connection with.”


->->

= unclec
“I want you to tell me about Harry the Sane Wizard, the Uncle.”
J.J. JAY! - “Harry? You two did hang out, a bit, didn’t you? Has my Nephew caught your eye, Twinkle. That doesn’t surprise me, you two are more alike than you think.”
“He is an insecure coward with no ambition.”
J.J. JAY! - “No ambition? Far from it. Harry sacrificed his old life, adopted the mantle of another - as you did with Rondo, he did with Konchu -, and has overcome countless adversities to become a Gauntlet Champion, one of my most trusted advisors, and, you could say, the Hand of the Uncle.”
“You’re praising him too much. I admit, that hand of his seems like an advantage, enough to make up for all his other inadequacies, but he’s mostly pathetic, isn’t he. Kind, certainly, and amicable enough, but pathetic.”
J.J. JAY! - “I’d agree he’s pathetic, but one has to be pathetic to be ambitious, don’t you think?”
* “I’ve never heard anything so stupid.”
~ charisma += 1
J.J. JAY! - “Ignore my wisdom at your own peril, Twinkle.”
“I won’t have anyone encourage me to be pathetic.”
* “If you think he’s that special, then would you say he’s the person I should partner with?”
~ charisma += 3
J.J. JAY! - “That’s a bit of a complicated question, Twinkle. You two work well together, it seems, and have a positive dynamic. Though I can’t say whether you’d end up destroying his confidence or building it. In any case, while Harry would never let you down… I wouldn’t exactly put him up against GG or Dreamer.”
“See! I knew you were only hyping him up.”
* “I know Harry is willing to take on new mantles, I wouldn’t ordinarily consider him, but… he’d be a candidate to be the next Devin Golden, wouldn’t he?”
~ charisma += 2
J.J. JAY! - “We could color his hand Gold, and he’d be perfect for the title.”
“You think he’d go for it. Harry the Golden One? I think it has a good ring to it.”
-
* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - “Harry knows a lot about the Connection. There aren’t many among the Nephews who would know as much as he does, excepting me. And I’d hate to see the sad look on his face if he overheard me say this, but… if you choose Harry to be your partner, you will not beat the Connection, I’m afraid.”

->->

= uncleb

"Have you ever heard of Hastur's Niblings?"
J.J. JAY! - "Ah, those lovely fellows. It is nice to have inspired in such a fashion, although I would've hoped for a more threatening imposter, sometimes you have to take what you can get."
"You aren't worried about them? They seem determined to take you down."
J.J. JAY! - "And I encourage them in the same way I encourage you, Twinkle. The Nephews have ample enemies around every corner, it keeps us on our toes. You should try to acquire you're own set of enemies too."
"Like the Nephews?"
J.J. JAY! - "I'm sure that would make those Niblings happy. Moochelle, despite the absurd name, is smart, I'm sure she'd appreciate having you as a partner."
*"And how about as a leader?"
~ charisma += 1
J.J. JAY! - "A leader? Well, if the Niblings are meant to be off shoots of the Nephews, that'd be inappropriate wouldn't it? Unless they think that they need to subvert the ethos of the Nephews by having a leader. But even with you at it's head, Twinkle, they'd be doomed. Leaders only lead to disasters."
"I think you're incentivizing me to prove you wrong."
*"I've never seen or heard of her wrestling, does she actually live up to her namesake?"
~ charisma += 2
J.J. JAY! - "Uh. To be honest, neither have I. She is ambitious, but I'd hope she doesn't have an overinflated sense of her own abilities."
"And you're encouraging me to be her partner? You are setting me up for defeat!"
*"Of course she would. If I were in charge of the Niblings, the Nephews would fall to the side. That's how good I am."
~ charisma += 3
J.J. JAY! - "Oh, Twinkle, that confidence of yours is a weapon, never lose it. Leave faltering confidence for the Disco Babies and Black Jesuses of the world. Having said that, do be weary of the humbling you'd receive if you did try to put these Niblings against us."
"I think you'll find you're underestimating what I can do."
-
* [continue]
J.J. JAY! - "The fact is that the Nephews have seen families, factions, and stables come and go. Friendships and alliances, alike. The Nephew's have remained solid together, because we're an equal, selfless partnership. Moochelle, if she wants you as the leader of the Niblings, is commiting a gross mistake, and you're accepting of that will be an equally bad decision. You should follow the Nephews lead. Otherwise, you'll find that the Moochelle at your side simply won't compare to Dreamer and GG who are perfectly in sync, equal partners in their many successes. Align yourself with Moochelle if you wish, but she can only help you get so far, Twinkle."


->->

= unclea

"I've learned something, The Uncle, the biggest weakness of the Nephews?"
J.J. JAY! - "Is it that we like being so good it sometimes jeopardizes our safety."
"No! Stop being so silly. Your weakness is that whereas everyone seems to be indestructible, the Nephews are rather fragile. Not just fragile, but killable. Is that why there are so many of you."
J.J. JAY! - "The fear of death is what makes life so special. If you are unkillable, then where is the thrill? Why fear a bomb, a shard of glass, a dip in the ocean, if there is no chance you'll die."
"Ah, but that's the Connection's weakness too. I just need to find someone unkillable, don't I. A Zombie if you will."
J.J. JAY! - "You've found one? To take the role of our ascended legend Devin Golden?"
"It's a bit more complicated than that. But he is unkillable. I'm just not sure if now is the time or if I should be saving him for my inevitable second reign."
J.J. JAY! - "Ah. Hmm, not quite the zombie I had in mind, but I can see the confusion. You're referring to Toner."
"One of them. I recall there are as many Toners as Nephews."
J.J. JAY! - "But only two worthwhile ones, if you forget the unmasking of our Donny."
*"You don't think he can double as both the Golden to my Rondo and the Toner to my Rondo?"
~ charisma += 1
J.J. JAY! - "I couldn't say for sure. But if I were to use my powers of prophecy…"
"You have the power to prophesize?"
J.J. JAY! - "Ah. Well, not technically. But in another sense, yes."
"How obtuse. Then what does your prophecy say."
J.J. JAY! - "He might work as both, but if he is going to work, it won't be now. If you choose him, he won't be ready."
*"I've seen the Connection in sync in their risk taking now. But if Lavonny and I teamed, we'd fly even higher than they can."
~ charisma += 3
J.J. JAY! - "You do both love taking risk, but you're underestimating my Nephews if you think that'd be enough to do them in. They've faced all sorts of wrestlers by now. Out high risking them may just end up in your own self destruction. Which I guess Lavonny wouldn't be against."
*"I was thinking maybe Lavonny will awaken those fluttery feelings Michelle clearly has for Danny."
~ charisma += 2
J.J. JAY! - "You must've not watched Dreamers dalliances with Bell. She loves… very violently. Though I do think Lavonny would be partial to it if it resulted in a few Burning Hammers. Though before we even get to that, I have my doubts she'll be as fond of Lavonny as she is of the Toner patriarch."
"Fine. Maybe Lavonny isn't right yet. But you're saying he absolutely will be, down the line."
J.J. JAY! - "Who else would be better for the T in your Tx…S?. Yes, if he keeps failing to die, he'd be the man you should seek for that second reign of yours that you're determined to have."
"But not for this match."
J.J. JAY! - "No. I'd say that for this affair with the Connection, he isn't the zombie you're looking for."
-
* [continue]
“You keep dissuading me from other options, it almost sounds like it’s because deep down you want to be my partner. But maybe you’re afraid of Michelle.”
J.J. JAY! - “Me? Afraid! Preposterous.”
“She’s beaten you every time hasn’t she? You don’t think you could beat her.”
J.J. JAY! - “I won the Cosmic Playground! In any case, there’s plenty of time to even up the record-”
“Not when Papa Kaiju ends her career.”
J.J. JAY! - “He is not your father!”
“Be quiet and nod if you’ll be my partner the Uncle.”
And Uncle nodded.


->->

= uncles

It was the night of Meltdown, and soon, you’d be challenging The Connection for the FWA World Tag Team Championship, and your partner was the one person who knew the most about Michelle after Gerald himself. The Uncle. You waited out front for his arrival. You heard he gets to the arena in a spaceship, and you’re interested in seeing that spectacle for yourself.
J.J. JAY! - “Oh, Twinkle, there you are.”
You turn around to find him coming out of the arena.
“How long have you been here?”
J.J. JAY! - “I just arrived.”
“I didn’t see you go in.”
J.J. JAY! - “You wouldn’t have.”
“Are you ready to become a tag team champion. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a belt, hasn’t it?”
J.J. JAY! - “About that. I’m afraid I have some bad news, Twinkle.”
You frown. There’s only one genuine bad news he could give you right now.
“What is it?”
J.J. JAY! - “I won’t actually be teaming up with you. I lied when I said I would. You’re going to do this match on your own.”
“You scumbag.”
J.J. JAY! - “That’s rude, I did warn you. There was only one proper partner for you. But you insisted on picking me.”
“WHO'S THE PROPER PARTNER?!”
J.J. JAY! - “Zom Gippy. The Platinum One. Heir to Devin Golden. If you want your best chance at defeating the Connection, you’d have to team up with her. Though, I suppose it’s too late for that now. Well, best of luck, we’ve got plans to celebrate their victory, gotta get everything prepared.”

* [continue]
And now for a brief epilogue.
Makima lost decisively against the Connection. In revenge, she began interfering and distracting in most Nephews matches.
The End
--> DONE

=== zomgippy

= zomgippyd

ZOM GIPPY - "This is an odd place to meet up."
You gleam brightly at the retirement home on the other side of the street.
"You'll understand why I've brought you here soon, Zom Gippy. This is an important step in getting you ready to apply to the Nephews."
ZOM GIPPY - "This seems unconventional. But I won't doubt you. If its to do with asking to be with the Nephews, and to overcome my lack of confidence it makes sense to use unconventional tactics."
"I'm glad you're so agreeable, Zom. Now, if you want to not only increase your chances of being accepted, but of feeling like you would be accepted, you should start acting like the Nephews do. What are they most known for?"
ZOM GIPPY - "The Number 8?"
"WRONG! I mean, not totally wrong, but not the answer I was looking for. They're known for all the crimes they commit. Did you hear them talk about commiting genocide? They're psychos. But usually they do try to make only despicable people suffer. Usually."
ZOM GIPPY - "Wait. No. I can't do this. Sure, I fantasize about being a Nephew, but I don't want to commit a crime."
"Relax. Look at that old man. He runs a blackmailing operation at the retirement home. Everyone is underneath his thumb. It's basically a small dystopia. But since it's a retirement home, no one really cares. Beat him up and show them we care."
ZOM GIPPY - "He does sound like he deserves it."
"Doesn't he?"
ZOM GIPPY - "But I still can't do it."
*"Zom Gippy. There comes a time in all our lives where we have to make a choice.["] We can either be boring people who take no risks. Or we can be interesting people who get out of our comfort zones. Doesn't that remind you of a Nephew?"
~ reliability += 3
ZOM GIPPY - "Many of them. There's Gerald-"
"Yes. Gerald. Used to be milquetoast but then went out of his comfort zone to join the Nephews, to team up with Michelle. He was shy too. He liked to follow the rules too. But he knew that he was stifling himself, and he chose differently. You can do that too."
*"Zom Gippy. If you don't go beat that man up, I am going to have to beat him up.["] And who do you think will hurt him more, me or you?"
~ reliability += 1
ZOM GIPPY - "You?"
"Yes, me. So if you don't do this, know that the pain he feels is on you."
*"I guess all the people in that retirement home will just have to keep suffering[."] in the little lives they have left, all because you're scared of committing a tiny little crime."
~ reliability += 2
ZOM GIPPY - "That's uncalled for."
"I call it like I see it Zom Gippy."
-
* [continue]
ZOM GIPPY - "I'm sorry but I'm not willing to compromise who I am to join the Nephews. If they want to accept me, then I want it to be because it's me, not because it's a version of me trying to be like them."
"Okay. I get it. Maybe you're right. You shouldn't have to change yourself to be a Nephew."


->->

= zomgippyc

Yoy hide with Zom Gippy on the outskirts of the Nephews facilities. Although, you're pretty sure they can see you, it was the only way you could convince Zom Gippy to come along.
ZOM GIPPY - "So why did you want to come back here."
"We're going to go inside."
ZOM GIPPY - "What? No. We can't go inside. I'm not a Nephew. I cant go there."
"It's no big deal. They said I could go, for now, at least. You'll be my plus one. There won't be any issue."
She took deep heavy breaths. And finally, she nodded.
"Wonderful. I promise, you won't regret it, Gippy."
You approach the Nephews facilities. Zom Gippy looks around anxiously, as if at any minute, she'll be called out for not belonging here.
Suddenly, an alarm blared and a container rose around Zom Gippy.
"Zombie tresspaser confirmed."
ZOM GIPPY - "What?"
"Everyone remain at attention. Stay away from the zombie near entrance 33. Avoid infection spread at all cost."
It takes a while before someone is able to set off the alarms, dismantle the trap, and set Zom Gippy free again. Though they don't let her in, deeply opposed to the risk zombies pose. Considering everything else they keep in there, it's somewhat shocking. Apparently, The Uncle detested the undead quite a bit.
*"So, you're a zombie."
~ reliability += 2
ZOM GIPPY - "Yes. That's what the Zom in Zom Gippy comes from. I wasn't trying to hide it."
"I'm sure you weren't, but I've never met a zombie before, it wasn't something I was considering as a possibility."
*"I'm sorry, Gippy. I didnt realize you had no chance of joining them. By the way, I'm not going to be infected will I?"
~ reliability += 1
ZOM GIPPY - "No. I don't thjink it kicks in till you're dead, anyways. So, just don't die?"
"I see, so there's only one way to find out."
*"Would you like to have some brains for dinner?"
~ reliability += 3
ZOM GIPPY - "Excuse me?"
"Isn't that like a zombie delicassy. I thought it'd cheer you up."
-
* [continue]
ZOM GIPPY - "You know, this is why I didn't want to even ask. Now I know for sure."
"You don't know for sure for sure. The Nephews could always change their mind, couldn't they? I could try talking to The Uncle."
ZOM GIPPY - "He won't. He thinks the dead should remain dead. He won't like someone like me."

->->

= zomgippyb

Zom Gippy sat on the park bench watching the sun set. You take a seat next to her noting she's still quite solemn after the visit to the Nephews facilities.
"Can I ask you a question, Gippy?"
ZOM GIPPY - "If you want to."
"How did you die?"
ZOM GIPPY - "When I was alive I was still very shy and I was even more afraid of people back then. So to compensate for that, I used to do a lot of things that could get me hurt."
"So you could feel more alive?"
ZOM GIPPY - "Yeah. It seemed easier than having to try and talk to people. I had a surfing accident, I think it was. To be honest, I had a lot of accidents. Sometimes I'm not sure what had finally done me in. All I know is somehow I woke back up like this."
"Why do I have a feeling youre hiding something. You don't randomly become a zombie, that's not a common thing. And you can talk. And you don't crave brains. Are you really a zombie?"
ZOM GIPPY - "I… think so."
*"Can I try to stab you?"
~ reliability += 1
ZOM GIPPY - "No?"
"Just to see if it'll hurt."
ZOM GIPPY - "That's really okay."
*"Did you try to double down on the high risks after you came back?"
~ reliability += 2
ZOM GIPPY - "I mostly tried keeping a low profile. I stayed inside, so no one would find me out. That's how I started following the Nephews and became obsessed with them."
"You really should've picked an idol to obsess over. Someone like me!"
ZOM GIPPY - "Well, I'd say I probably had better chances of becoming a Nephew than of getting the attention of an Idol. Not counting you."
*"Say if the Nephews had accepted you. Do you think you would've become a wrestler too?"
~ reliability += 3
ZOM GIPPY - "Actually, I used to wrestle when I was alive. But I stopped after the accident."
"A zombie wrestler, you could be a star."
ZOM GIPPY - "But if people find out-"
"They'd think you're faking it."
ZOM GIPPY - "I don't know."
-
* [continue]
"Look Gippy. If the Nephews won't have you, it's their loss, but you have the attention of an Idol now. The Last Twinkle in the Sky. You should forget about the Nephews and just embrace and obsess over me."
ZOM GIPPY - "Uhm."
"Don't think about it now. Let's just enjoy the sunfall."


->->

= zomgippya
You hadn't heard from Zom Gippy in a while. You tried contacting her but no luck. You checked her place, but that wasn't any better. Fortunately, she was at the second most obvious place. Watching the Nephews from the outskirts of their facilities.
She's hardly actually watching. She's looking down on the ground with a rather morose expression.
"Why so glum, chum?"
ZOM GIPPY - "Makima."
"Hey! That's rude."
ZOM GIPPY - "Sorry?"
"If you're going to say my name, it should never be accompanied by such a tone of disappointment."
ZOM GIPPY - "I met Uncle the other day."
"I understand your disappointment, now."
ZOM GIPPY - "I mean, it was exciting, up until he told me the real reason I couldn't join the Nephews."
"It wasn't the being a zombie thing?"
ZOM GIPPY - "He said the reason I'd died was so that I could become a zombie and eventually be recruited as your partner. I'm supposed to be the Devin Golden to your Ryan Rondo."
*"I KNEW IT!"
~ reliability += 2
ZOM GIPPY - "What?"
"It was meant to be! You're the one whose supposed to make sure I become an FWA World Tag Team Champion. You're the one I'm truly connected to!"
*"That is definitely not a reason to be sad."
~ reliability += 3
ZOM GIPPY - "How is that not a reason to be sad. I don't want to just play a bit role in your life."
"What's so wrong with that? You weren't doing anything with yourself before I met you. Why not just appreciate that role while it lasts. You can worry about what comes after, then."
*"Wait, how come he didn't tell me? I could've saved so much time and not gotten distracted by other people!"
~ reliability += 1
ZOM GIPPY - "I guess I can kill my dreams of being a Nephew once and for all."
-
* [continue]
"There's no reason to be so down on this news. Being my partner wouldn't be so bad. You'd become a champion. That's something to celebrate. And you'd be getting back at the Nephews by beating The Connection."
ZOM GIPPY - "When you put it that way, I guess it doesn't seem so bad."
"Besides The Uncle doesn't know everything. For all you know, he was just trying to manipulate you. You're a huge fan of his, you should know you shouldn't trust what he says. Except the part that involves teaming with me."
ZOM GIPPY - "Maybe you're right, Makima. You found me in a hole of my own making and you did your best to push me and encourage me. I should view this as a chance to get past what used to hold me back."
"You have to view the old version of you as like the bronze version of you. But the new you should be the golden one. Wait, better yet, the new version of you should be the Platinum One!"

->->

= zomgippys

It's the night of Meltdown. You're moments away from the biggest match of your life. You pace around in front of the backstage doors waiting to see if Zom Gippy will show up.
She's cutting it pretty close. At the back of your mind, you wonder if she might bail. She is the shy type. Or she might've decided she didn't want to be the "Devin Golden" after all.
You ignore that back of your mind and instead choose to believe the Platinum One won't let you down. You hear the commentators introduce the show, vaguely… and then you see her. She looks ready to kill. You don't know how well she can fight, but you sense this is the right partner. The one who can help you overcome the Connection.
ZOM GIPPY - "Makima. I'm here."
"It's almost time."
ZOM GIPPY - "I know. Thanks for asking me to be your partner. I won't let you down."
"Good. I expect you to be even more of a daredevil than you were in your past life."
ZOM GIPPY - "I've already lost my life once, Im not going to let myself be afraid of losing a second time, not in the ring at least."
"Good. So, I was workshopping a name. What do you think of Dayspring Nightfall."
ZOM GIPPY - "About as shameless a rip off as one can expect to have."
"Perfect. The ultimate name for The Platinum One and The Last Twinkle in the Sky."

*[continue]
And for a brief epilogue.
Dayspring Nightfall went on to become FWA World Tag Team Champions, and the longest reigning team ever. They eventually split up, each becomng legend in their own rights
The End.
--> DONE

=== completefailure

* [continue]
You were never able to find a partner. Never able to build a proper Connection. You went into that match as alone as you've ever been, and you stood no chance against the greatest tag team there has ever been. If only you could go back in time and try again, maybe you wouldn't have left those important Connections to the last second. But life isn't a game. You can't restart. Oh, well.
-> END

 

[Tig]

I, Toner.
*click title to access*

​

Spoiler: prolly shite unreadable text version

I, Toner.

A young-looking man with curly, shoulder-length hair, clad in an unbranded black polo shirt, black jeans, and white Converse high-tops looks fervently about the riotous New Orleans crowd in the Smoothie King Arena with his mouth slightly agape. He had never seen a crowd like this in all his years covering sporting events. Admittedly, he was still in his relative infancy when it came to reporting on wrestling events - he had only been a sports reporter for a few years after all and it had taken some toil to be in a position to get the gig he really wanted - but it was a sight to behold nonetheless. He frantically scribbles in a small, leather-bound notepad as the crowd bounces up and down with their backs to the match taking place in the ring, boisterously bellowing out the lyrics to the recently retired FWA Hall of Famer Devin Golden’s theme song. As he looks up from his hastily jotted-down notes and sees Danny Toner connect with a huge right hand, he says a silent thanks that he is up in the managerial consortium’s skybox, away from the baying crowd. A member of that consortium, Cal Robinson, is present alongside him and Robinson winces as Chris Peacock responds in kind.

“The champ’s got a stiff right, that’s for sure.”

“No doubt. The crowd’s really something tonight, eh?”

Robinson clears his throat slightly while adjusting the royal blue tie knotted around the collar of his sky blue shirt. He glances worryingly at the notepad in the young reporter’s hand.

“You are here to follow the action taking place in the ring, aren’t you, Mr. Brown?”

Barely encroaching his mid-twenties, the reporter still didn’t feel comfortable with being addressed by an honorific, it made him feel beyond his years. He understood Cal’s trepidation with his comment on the crowd, but it was genuinely a fleeting thought he had verbalized, not a pry for information or an official comment on the crowd.

“Please, Cal, there is no need for formalities - Scott is just fine. I was merely making conversation, everything I have down here is about Peacock.”

“Of course, of course, I didn’t mean to come across as suspicious, it’s just… the consortium was extremely iffy about letting a reporter in to document the World Champion’s path to Back in Business - you’re using that right?”

Scott nods assuredly, his thoughts on the promotion of the shows leading into Back in Business weren’t his primary concern and if he had to use the company's new slogan to gain access, it was a small price to pay.

“Good. The FWA has always had a strange relationship with PWOutsider and to be frank… we were expecting Shake himself to be the one documenting Chris’s path to Back in Business. I don’t want to impede your creativity nor stifle your journalistic integrity but this is an important time of the year for us and we don’t want fans getting caught up in external matters. We simply want to produce the best content for the fans and present it in the most digestible way possible.”

“Of course, there’s no issue here, I’ve no ulterior motive. I’m simply wanting to document the biggest star in the biggest company in the world on his way to - sorry, on his path to Back in Business. I’m here on behalf of Mr. Metlzer and he made it clear to me that he strongly values the relations he has with the FWA and what he expects of me. You’re in safe hands with me, Cal.”

Scott gives Cal a little wink.

“Besides, I love the FWA, it’s nearly been around as long as I have and it’s always been my favorite product. My family is wrestling mad and even though my Gramps tried to get me into his BAOW video collection and my Pop was CWA-crazy… I was always FWA, through and through.”

This little regaling seems to satisfy Cal’s concerns about the content that Scott and PWOutsider would be putting out in regards to the FWA and they are both able to regain focus on the match just in time to see Danny Toner nearly take a kneeling-down Chris Peacock’s head off with his patented Equalizer. Scott can’t help but notice Cal’s knuckles whiten slightly as he grips his mug of coffee and the buzzing of the VIPs mingling in the skybox comes to an abrupt halt as the referee slams his hand to the mat, making the three count. Scott doesn’t look at the rioting crowd down below but instead takes in the expressions of the people in his immediate vicinity. None look happy apart from one extremely well-groomed man, a man Scott recognizes but can’t quite place. He catches the man’s eyes and gets a very slight smirk. Scott quickly runs through his wrestling encyclopedia-like brain, the man’s name is on the tip of his tongue but before he quite grasps it, Cal finally breaks the silence and in the process, his trail of thought.

“Well, um, the champion bouncing back from a disastrous, unexpected setback will make for quite the riveting report, won’t it, Scott?”

“It sure will… though I wonder… is it really in FWA’s best interest to have the World Champion’s stumble highlighted by PWOutsider? Why don’t I pivot, and document somebody else’s path to Back in Business?”

“That sounds like a great idea, Scott! Who did you have in mind?”

Cal Robinson is nearly falling over himself to accept the offer to avoid a disparagement of the current champion.

“What about him?”

Scott points down to the man who just beat the World Champion, who is leaning over the ring ropes blowing a kiss to the blood-thirsty New Orleans fans, infuriating them even more.

“You want to cover Danny Toner?”

Cal nearly scoffs as he replies, his response making Scott feel like he’d need to grant some assurances to get the okay on this.

“Don’t worry, there won’t be a focus on tonight - I’m more interested in getting inside his head as he approaches Back in Business. As I said, I’ve no interest in thrashing the FWA or its champions, I think Toner could be a really riveting piece.”

Cal considers for a moment before he throws his hands up in the air.

“By all means, cover Toner… if he lets you. Toner is quite the, uh, volatile sort. However, if he agrees to allow you to document him, go right ahead. We’ll need to give anything you intend to publish a once over though, is that fair?”

“Sounds great, Cal.”

Scott sticks out his hand and Cal firmly shakes it.

“Then we have got a deal. Best of luck with Toner, now if you could excuse me, I’ve got to go and entertain some of our other guests, try and get them hyped up for the main event, you know?”

Scott nods his head, unable to prevent a small smile from forming on his face. Covering the FWA World Champion would have been a great piece, but a report on the scorned, ex-World Champion who was forced to give up his title, coming back in time for Back in Business… that had the potential to be his pièce de résistance. Shake Meltzer himself would be bowled over if he could bring back a scoop on Danny fucking Toner.

“Ahem.”

Scott looks up and sees the man he caught the eye of from across the room a few moments prior. He offers a wide smile but Scott can’t help but feel the insincerity radiating from it.

“Pardon me for interrupting, my name is Thomas-”

“Thomas Princeton!!!”

Scott nearly shouts the name as a lightbulb went off in his head. He feels his cheeks redden with embarrassment.

“Apologies! I was trying to place you a few moments ago and…”

Scott trails off and he blushes even more, realizing that admitting he couldn’t instantly recognize a former three-time North American Champion wasn’t the best look and that doing it to his face was mortifying, to say the least.

“Don’t fret, it’s been some time since I was on FWA television and even longer since I laced up my boots. It’s no problem, I just thought I’d come over to you as I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Mr. Robinson. You wish to do a report on Mr. Toner?”

Scott loosens up a little, his predatory reporting nature kicking in.

“I do! My names Scott Brown, I’m with PWOutsider. Have you a comment or an insight you’d like to share?”

“Oh, I have many things I could tell you about Mr. Toner… but why waste time with a secondary source when I can bring you to the primary source?”

“You can get me in with Danny?”

Scott arches his left eyebrow and steals a glance at Cal who is busy chatting to an elderly woman in a tight-fitting black dress.

“Cal seemed to think he wouldn’t be very open to speaking to me.”

“While it is quite true that Daniel can be difficult… I think I can twist his arm. Why don’t you meet us in a couple of hours at the Renaissance Hotel? I’ll set up a face-to-face.”

Scott quickly pulls out his iPhone and types the name of the hotel into his google maps. It was located in Baton Rogue, just over an hour's drive from the Smoothie King Arena.

“He’s not staying in New Orleans?”

Princeton chuckles aloud and jerks his head down at the crowd that is still being calmed by security following the match between Peacock and Toner.

“Now that wouldn’t be very clever of him, would it?”

“I guess not.”

“So shall I arrange it?”

“Absolutely, that’d be great! Thanks a million!”

“See you soon.”

Scott beams at Princeton, scarcely believing his luck, the stories about Princeton being obnoxious and unhelpful didn’t appear to be true at all. As Princeton turns to leave, Scott shakes his head and laughs quietly as he muses to himself… you can’t trust everything you see on screen in the FWA.

---

Scott curses his luck as an unexpected drizzle of rain begins to fall from the sky. He scurries to take shelter underneath the porte-cochère at the front of the Renaissance Hotel and checks his Apple watch. It is after midnight and he had expected Thomas and Danny by now. His excitement had changed to nervousness as he traveled by Uber from New Orleans to Baton Rogue. He assumed if Princeton was being truthful, he wouldn’t have much of an issue getting an attendance with Danny Toner but it was the man himself that was beginning to unnerve him. Cal had warned of his volatility and on his way here, he had googled Danny Toner’s previous interactions with members of the press and had come to the conclusion that Toner was inherently not a fan of reporters. A black Sedan comes to a halt just yards from where he stands and Scott breathes a sigh of relief as Thomas Princeton emerges. He waves at Scott as he makes his way toward him, taking a puff on a vape along the way.

“Hello! Glad to see you made it.”

Scott nods in response and then wrinkles his nose as Thomas takes another puff of his vape. It is nearly undetectable but he gets the slightest whiff of marijuana as a cloud of smoke is exhaled through Princeton’s nostrils. Princeton wryly laughs.

“Yes, it’s marijuana. Care to partake?”

“Uhm, I don’t know if that’s the wisest idea but thanks all the same. Danny’s not with you?”

“He’s inside. I can’t help but notice you seem a little… tense. Are you sure I can’t tempt you? To be perfectly honest with you; I’d be shocked if Danny isn’t sitting in there smoking himself, trust me, this will help loosen you up.”

Scott has a quick internal joust - he didn’t like working stoned… but he was undeniably nervous, a couple of blows might help. Scott shrugs his shoulders.

“Sure, why not? What harm can it do?”

“Excellent!”

Princeton reaches into his trouser pocket and produces two vapes, nearly identical to the one he was holding himself save for the rim colors. One was blue, one was red.

“I’ve got Blue Incan Kush and Red Incan Kush, what do you fancy?”

“Uhhh…”

BLUE INCAN KUSH Scott hesitantly reaches out. “I’ll take the Blue Incan Kush, thanks.” Scott takes a deep drag of the vape. He knows he should stop after a few seconds but the sweet aroma filling his mouth encourages him to keep going until he begins coughing. “Good stuff, right?” Choking between coughs, Scott nods his head. His eyes water and it takes him a minute to compose himself. When he does, a warm, fuzzy feeling takes over his body and he feels his thoughts being slightly clouded. “Yeah, yeah… really good.” This prompts a smile from Princeton. He looks extremely pleased with himself. Scott tries to hand the vape back but gets firmly rejected. “No, no! That’s for you. It always helps me get my head straight, you’re going to need it if you’ll be working closely with Danny.” Scott looks down at the vape with the blue rim in his hand and back up at Princeton. “You sure?” “But of course! It’s a gift.” Princeton looks down at the expensive TAG Heuer watch adorning his wrist. “Well, no time like the present! He should be at the bar, in you go!” Scott blinks a couple of times in rapid succession. He wasn’t sure if he was extremely stoned or had just misheard. “You’re not coming?” “He’s expecting you. I’ve… other business to attend to. Best of luck, I’m sure you’ll learn some fascinating things.” Princeton slaps Scott on the shoulder and without another word returns to his vehicle. The slamming of the driver’s door shocks Scott from his stupor. He feels a sweat building up just above his brow, he had expected Princeton to break the ice with Danny and was more than a little worried about being left to his own devices. He takes a quick puff of the vape to steady himself, before pocketing it and walking right through the front doors of the Renaissance Hotel. A little past reception, he finds Danny sitting at the resident's bar, nursing a tumbler of whiskey. He hears his brash, New York accent call out to a preoccupied bartender. “Another Red Brest 27 Year Old. Neat, bud.” Scott takes a deep breath a few feet from Toner and is about to make his presence known when without looking, Toner calls out. “Take a freakin’ seat man, I can hear you creepin’ up on me. Scott, ain’t it? Whiskey or not, pal? It’s good stuff.” “Uh…” “Whiskey.” Danny leans over the top of the bar and yells out. “Make it two!” Finally, Danny turns around and looks Scott up and down. “Don’t just freakin’ stand there! Would ya sit down? You’re freakin’ me out. I don’t like journalists at the best of times but Princeton said you’re a’ight.” Gulping, Scott takes the high stool adjacent to Danny. He sits there for a moment, allowing his ass to sink into the cushy leather bestowed atop the stool, before looking at Danny. He is rather handsome in person and looks like somebody straight off a movie set, though he is dressed casually. He is wearing a grey Stone Island tracksuit and though Scott was sure it had cost a pretty penny, he felt that Danny looked rather out of place at a fancy bar in a tracksuit. Danny, for his part, didn’t seem to care. “Are ya just gonna sit there starin’ at me or what? You guys usually never shut the hell up. Ain’t ya got a question or somethin’?” As two tumblers of whiskey are placed in front of them by a burly barman, Scott grips the edge of the bar top. He eyes the whiskey - something he doesn’t usually indulge in - before cautiously taking his small notepad out of his hoodie pocket. “Yeah… eh… do I just get right into it?” Danny drains the dregs of his tumbler of whiskey before nodding at Scott. “Well, uh, how do you feel about beating the current World Champion, Chris Peacock, earlier tonight?” “How do I feel? How the hell do ya think I freakin’ feel! Look, don’t get it twisted, pinnin’ Disco to the mat is as natural to me as it is for a fourteen-year-old crankin’ one out thinking about his hot-ass Biology teacher!” Scott stammers a bit, that felt like a very specific example Danny had decided to use. “But takin’ care of business with Chris when he’s the World Champion? That’s a totally different feelin’. That’s like actually gettin’ your dick wet for the first time. I pinned the fuckin’ World Champion in my first match back on Fallout. The guy holdin’ the championship I never lost. I’m fuckin’ ecstatic, Scott.” Scott nods his head as he takes a few notes. This wasn’t so bad, Danny seemed forthcoming enough, a little rough, but responsive at least. “Quite a crowd though, right?” Danny laughs aloud, nearly spewing the whiskey from his mouth. “Ain’t no love lost between New Orleans and Ol’ Danny Fuckin’! Ya not do your background research? I’ve got a bit of a history with New Orleans and their favorite son, I knew they’d be hostile - but I wasn’t expectin’ that! That’s the beauty of pro-wrestlin’, that’s the effect of the FWA. That crowd was freakin’ energetic. They were fuckin’ wild. Ain’t many sports or companies that can evoke reactions like that, man.” “You mentioned you never lost the World Title. You were forced to vacate it following the Lights Out pay-per-view last year… any comments on that?” Danny takes a long drink before softly resting the nearly empty tumbler down on the ornate bar top. He sighs. “That fuckin’ hurt man. There’s no other way to put it. I worked my fuckin’ ass off to be the champion of the world, and whether you agreed with my methods or not… it was cruel to have to give it up without actually being beaten for it. Beating the current champion reminded me of the level I was at before I had to… take some time off. Hopefully, it reminded everyone else of it too. It’s a nice way to come back, no doubt, but… it’s hard to see what’s comin’ next. I’m tryin’ to figure it out.” Danny clicks the lock button on the side of his iPhone and his eyes widen slightly when seeing the time displayed on the screen. “I ain’t usually one for hittin’ the nest early Scott, but I gotta press conference tomorrow. They wanna discuss what’s next… why don’t ya tag along?” It was Scott’s turn to widen his eyes. Danny had an abrasive demeanor but he seemed to be more than accommodating towards him and his report. “Really? That’d be great! Management won’t mind?” Danny rifles around his pocket and produces a similar-looking vape to the one Princeton had provided Scott with. He takes a pull of the vape and then smiles at Scott. “Fuck management.” Scott nervously draws on his vape as he stands off to the side of a stage. He hadn’t slept well in the room he booked in the Renaissance Hotel and he had spent the majority of the night thinking about his initial interaction with Danny. The man in question was positioned behind a table on the stage, unapologetically smoking a large blunt and puffing smoke O’s into the air. There are rows upon rows of journalists, reporters, and media correspondents lining the spacious room. Scott had only seen turnouts like this in other sports for the likes of Giannis Antetokounmpo, Cristiano Ronaldo, and Tom Brady. Scott looks at the FWA banners on either side of the table on the stage and then to the promotional poster behind Danny; the one featuring World Champion Chris Peacock and his challenger, Cyrus Truth. Two very big stars, no doubt, but both had fallen this very week to Danny Toner and… weaselperson respectively. Scott had seen a tweet on his way here that had announced Toner and weaselperson would meet in the main event of the next Fallout but he was willing to bet the entirety of his bank account that Danny hadn’t been scouring Twitter and likely didn’t know of the upcoming match. “We about ready to get crackin’ here? Ya know I’m a man in demand.” Scott looks up and sees Danny leaning on the table looking out at the gathered press. His half-smoked blunt hangs from his mouth, a few specks of ash landing on his blue Prada polo shirt. “Let’s not put me in any awkward positions, a’ight? I don’t want no beef, just ask the standards and we’ll be good.” Danny eyeballs a few reporters in the front row who meekly nod their heads in agreement. “Aight then, what ya got for me?” Almost immediately an explosion of noise takes over as every reporter in the place attempts to shout over everybody else to get a question to Danny. Danny laughs and stands up on the stage and motions for them to calm down. He points to a middle-aged woman three rows back from the stage. “Shirley Matthews, Los Angeles Times. Danny, you achieved quite the victory over reigning FWA World Champion Chris Peacock on Fallout, a feat that many have likened to weaselperson’s victory over the number one contender Cyrus Truth on Meltdown. Do you think that the winner of the match between you and weaselperson has a right to be added to the main event of Back in Business?” Danny looks a little bit taken back on stage after receiving the news, but after a moment’s hesitation, doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re tellin’ me that they’ve booked me against weaselperson? Man, I wouldn’t wanna be him, that’s for damn sure. I’m firin’ on all cylinders, baby! Gonna play spoiler here and say straight-up that management can probably go ahead and issue the statement sayin’ that I’m after pinnin’ weaselperson to the mat - one, two, three. weaselperson has already bared his teeth, that cat has already shown what he’s capable of, and eh, let’s not play dumb, yeah? We all know who it is and we all know that motherfucker snapped arms and took names, left and right. It don’t matter who it is, it don’t matter what version he brings, that cat gets a smack of The Equalizer and we all know what the end result gonna be. Don’t get it twisted; it ain’t personal with’em but I figure the winner of this is gonna be hard-pushed not to be added to the main of Back in Business.” Danny stands up from his seat and turns before tapping the promotional poster featuring Cyrus and Chris. “I mean, on a real one; these are two tough sons a bitches and they are as legit as it comes but how can ya not look at Danny Toner versus weaselperson as being the real main event? I come back, and in my first match on Fallout, I pin Chris Peacock - he’s the damn champ! Then ya look at weaselperson; Cyrus Truth may have ripped the mask off and shown the world that Zachary Kazadi was underneath before tossin’ him over the top rope but in a straight fight, weaselperson got the last bark. Maybe the FWA cosmos will think that we should already be added to the main event by virtue of that victory, but ya gotta see where the company are comin’ from. Peacock is the world champ and Cyrus is the Carnal Contender. That’s how the system works, they can’t be seen to just yank the rug from underneath the whole damn thing on the back of us beatin’ them. There needs to be consistency. The consistency that I can promise is guaranteeing that I’ll beat weaselperson just the same as I beat Peacock. I think that’s just about all that I can say on the matter to be honest. Ya know what’s what. Let’s move to the next question.” Danny sits back down and relights his joint as cameras flash from the crowd. Scott is nearly putting his pen through the paper of his notepad trying to keep up with what Danny is saying. Danny looks over at him and winks as the next question gets asked. “Terry Judderman, Chicago Tribunal. A lot has been made of your return to FWA but I want to ask about what happened prior to your return. You’ve hospitalized people you once called a friend, brutalized innocent people simply to get under rival’s skins, and you’ve verbally run down every fan, competitor, and staff member of the FWA on a constant basis. Do you have any regrets over your actions?” Danny looks at the joint resting between his fingers and then glares down at the balding man asking the question. “Damn, Terry, you gettin’ real intimate with it, huh? Why don’t you jump on up here and I’ll give you a hit of this joint? That’s a loaded question if ever there was one. Do I regret my actions? I mean… shit happens. I’m not usin’ that as a cop-out but it’s the truth. It’s professional wrestlin’. I’m damn good at it and I know how to make a pretty penny doin’ it. I know how to get people invested and yeah, sometimes I do that by rilin’ people up. I know I’ve done some controversial shit but the thing is… this is what people pay to see. I can go out to that ring and say just about anythin’ once it gets people invested in the product. Now, should I do it? Probably not. But that’s part of the game and with all due respect to weaselperson, that’s why I’m who I am and he’s who he is. That’s why despite the fact he could probably wrestle rings around me, I’m the one that’s considered the big star. I’m able to play the game, I’m able to get inside people’s heads and I’ve got more stayin’ power than a crazy outfit or costume affords. I have regrets, I’m human, but I always ask myself: would the FWA be held in the same standing that it is if I didn’t make shit so damn entertaining? I’m not sayin’ the dogs in the back owe me one, but I get a hell of a lot of eyes on the product. weaselperson came second in the Carnal Contendership and just pinned Cyrus motherfuckin’ Truth but gettin’ pitted against me? That’s what people want. That’s what this run of his will be most remembered by. Ask him yourself after the fact, he’ll tell you the same thing. To be honest ‘regret’ is a damn strong word. I mean, I shouldn’t have done Violet the way I did. Every night I think about textin’ Ryan and clearin’ the air. Sometimes, I wince when what I say on television is played back to me but, at the end of the day, I’m out here gettin’ people talkin’. I’m gettin’ people hyped. Maybe I was overcompensatin’ some because it was my first time as the guy. I mean, all you are gonna walk away with somethin’ to say about me after this press conference. I thought about comin’ out and being brash but I’m startin’ to realize I don’t need to do that. I don’t need to be that person all the time. Me beatin’ weaselperson more than solidifies my position in this company and I decided that winnin’ is more than enough validation for me.” There is a strange flutter in Scott’s chest, he feels like he is witnessing a new leaf being turned in real-time. The faces in the stunned crowd only add to that feeling. Everything Danny is saying is sinking in and they are staring up at him, gobsmacked at the demeanor being displayed. A few surreal moments pass before a young female reporter steps up and breaks the silence. “Tanya Shalowi, USA Today. I’ll keep this simple; what are you planning on doing at Back in Business?” “About damn time!” Danny stands up and takes another hit of his blunt. “I was wonderin’ when somebody was gonna address the elephant in the room. I wasn’t just bein’ a cocky motherfucker when I issued an open challenge for Back in Business; that shit was legit. I’m tryin’ to take things down a notch but The Last Draw in the Sky wasn’t a misnomer. I know for a fact I can help light somebodies career up and strap a freakin’ rocket to them by way of sharin’ a ring at Back in Business with them. To be honest, I half expected nobody would step up to the plate, that’s why I had good ol’ Bouldy on standby. Ya can color me fuckin’ surprised that somebody actually did come out and take a swing but I gotta admit, I was disappointed they wore a hood. This is your chance to make somethin’ of yourself so my message to you is simple: make yourself known. Come out on Meltdown and let me and the world know who’s brave enough to stand toe-to-toe with one of the best in the game. If ya wanna keep playin’ this game… I’ll play. You wanna keep the mask on? That’s fine. I know a thing or two about masks as you all well know but fair warnin’; if you’re gonna tiptoe around me, you best keep the fuckin’ eyes. I’m offerin’ you a chance but I ain’t fuckin’ playing. Business is business and if you decide to get into it with me, I’ll give you every damn thing I got. That goes for weaselperson too, I ain’t got no plans except for knockin’ you the fuck out on Fallout.” Danny lets his words sink in and the press looks around at each other, excited about the potential of what the next few Toner matches could amount to. He stubs his joint out on the table in front of him and smiles. “And if the person in the hood or weaselperson themselves decide they wanna bow out and leave well enough alone… I’ll still steal the show at Back in Business. Hell, maybe I’ll ring up Owen and Coney and make a run at those new Trios Championships. Who’s to say? Anyway, I reckon that’s about it. I think this press conference is over.” Danny blows a kiss as cameras begin to flash once again and reporters realizing they may have missed their opportunity begin shouting up ignored questions. Danny hops down off the side of the stage and side-eyes Scott. “Ya comin’?” He doesn’t wait for a response. He just walks off leaving Scott staring after him. He’s beginning to realize that ‘Danny Toner’ isn’t a character. He realizes Danny is a somewhat conflicted, but very real man. In search of more answers, Scott follows behind. A plate of lukewarm pizza rolls sits untouched in the lap of Scott Brown as he listens to the most bizarre person he has ever encountered talk relentlessly about a traffic safety song he performs for kids in elementary schools all over the country. "And when I'm finished, I hand out the greatest swag to all the kids! They love it, don't they Owen?" A man just slightly Scott's junior sits furiously typing away on a keyboard. He looks up, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. "Uh, yeah, sure." "What has you so preoccupied, Owen?" The man sighs at the man in a traffic cone. Scott can't help but draw on his vape. He had suspected that following Danny Toner in the weeks preceding Back in Business would see him in some strange situations - but traffic cones and weaselpeople? What would be next? "I'm trying to finish this paper before the deadline, Coney! I don't want to be stuck here forever!" "Why not? The University of Conerville is great!" Owen simply shakes his head and turns back to his computer. Scott had admittedly thought Danny was winding him up when he said to meet him at The University of Conerville, but low and behold, the place actually existed. Scott shifts uncomfortably on the cheap, plastic seat and actually finds himself wishing Danny would show up. His inquiring nature creeps to the fore of his mind and his thoughts drift to his budding report. "So, I remember seeing you guys back up Danny a few times in the FWA but how do you know him?" "Oh, we go waaaay back. Danny's one of our best friends." "He's not our friend, Coney." Scott sits forward in his seat as Owen stops typing and spins his swivel chair around to face 'Coney'. He imploringly looks at Coney, explaining in a way a parent would to a small child. "He just uses us. He drags us into things he knows we don't want any part of and when we've served our purpose, he casts us aside like everyone else in his life." "I don't believe that, Owen. Didn't you hear him say he was going to ask us to partner up with him to win those new Trios Championships?? I remember at The Warehouse Trios-" Owen violently shakes his head, wide-eyed, and makes no secret of the fact that it's because of Scott's presence. Both begin speaking in low tones. "We're not meant to talk about that, remember?" "Yeah, yeah, my bad. I forgot." Owen and Coney look at Scott who simply shrugs at the peculiar behaviour. He chooses to try and build a rapport with the two, they had already provided some fascinating insight that he was definitely going to include in his report. "Coney is an interesting nickname. What's your actual name?" "Traffic Cone #2!" The chirpy and cheerful reply lightens Scott's mood and he laughs aloud. "Number two? What happened to number one?" Owen's silent mouthing of "NO!!!" was caught too late. Coney's demeanor somehow completely changes, and weird, psychedelic music plays from seemingly nowhere. "What the hell is going on?" Owen sighs. "We're about to have a flashback." "What do you mean!?" Before an explanation can be given, the door to the dorm opens up, and a beaming Danny Toner walks in, the eerie music stopping as suddenly as it started and Coney's expression returning to normal. "What up, boys?" "Danny! You're back!" "Good to see ya, bud! How have ya been?" Danny glances at Owen. "What's up, pal? Makin' Scott here feel right at home, I hope?" "Hi, Danny." Scott notes the two oscillating responses from the duo he had found himself spending his time with prior to Danny's arrival. Danny nods at Scott and pats him on the back before plopping down on a battered, leather sofa. "Aight, so I guess you all know why we're here?" The blank stares and shrugging of the shoulders from around cause Danny to laugh. "You’ve all just been sittin’ here and ya don’t know why? Scott here is doin' a little piece on me for PWOutisder-" "Oh, wow! With our buddy, Shake Meltzer?" Danny nods his head enthusiastically as Coney bounds up to Scott. "Tell him I was asking for him, won't you? Last time I can remember seeing him was after The Trios Ware-" A worried glare from Danny causes Traffic Cone #2 to not so smoothly pivot. "Was uh, um, eh, a couple of summers ago!" "ANYWAY, Scott's been followin' me about, puttin' together his story and whatnot, and he mentioned he wouldn't mind getting some insight from the perspective of the people close to me. I told him there are only two people in this whole freakin' world that are close to me, my two good buddies, Coney and Owen!!" Scott notices Owen discreetly roll his eyes just before Danny and Coney meet mid-air for an emphatic high-five. Danny shoots Owen a look, perhaps the facial expression hadn't been so guarded. Danny plucks a pizza roll off the plate on Scott's lap and pops it in his mouth. "Awh, fuck. These are gone cold. I was looking forward to that! Got any more, Coney?" "Sure thing, Danny! I'll be back in a jiffy!" Coney excitedly runs over, inexplicably humming "Old Town Road", grabs the plate, and dashes off to - presumably - the kitchen. Danny waits for a few moments and then turns to stare directly at Owen. "We need to talk." Owen gulps nervously and his face whitens. "Uh, about what, Danny?" "About us. I know I haven't been the greatest friend lately and I want you to know that I regret what happened. I'm sorry about how things panned out." Owen, trembling a little, interjects - his voice a mix of fear and anger. "Panned out? Panned out!? You left us for dead on Grouse Mountain, Danny!" "Oh, come on! Jhunha was there, you were fine." Owen grows a little louder. "That's exactly the thing, Danny! You don't take us seriously and you don't care about us - you just look after yourself!" "Sorry, what? What are you talking about?" Even Scott tenses up and stops writing notes, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. He had a funny feeling that Owen wasn't one for cutting... or knives. "I, uh... I meant-" "No, no, no. You're right. You’re freakin’ right, pal." Danny hangs his head a little. "I didn't care about you or Coney enough. I didn’t treat you with enough respect. I'm sorry, Owen." "Uhm... that's alright, Danny." "It ain't alright." Danny steps forward and shocks Owen with a tight hug. "Listen here, pal, I'm sorry to do this but... I need your help. I need both of your help. I can't do this all on my own. I need you both by my side against weaselperson. I need you both in my corner. Coney will do it, I know he will, if I ask him, but it'd mean the world to me and him if you came along too... what dya say?" Scott gives Owen the once-over. He still seems unsure, as if something deep inside him wants to reject Danny and tell him to go fuck himself. He scuffs his foot off the ground of his dormitory floor looking sheepish. "Fine then... we'll do it, Danny. I’ll tell Coney. " Danny beams at Owen, who still won't meet his eyes. Scott feels compelled to say something but gets his engine cut before it even revs as Coney comes crashing back into the room holding a tray full of piping-hot pizza roll goodness. “Hope everybody is hungry!” Pulsating dance music reverberates through a packed, sweaty warehouse. Scott feels a little out of place amongst the throngs of dancing bodies rubbing up against each other and the flashing lights are making him feel dizzy. He politely rejects the advances of an Asian woman wearing nothing but a pink Real Madrid shirt - and presumably, hopefully, thinks Scott, underwear - before scurrying off to the side of the festivities. He takes a hit of his vape, cursing silently to himself as he feels the flavor waning. “Looks like you’re nearly out.” Scott nearly jumps out of his skin, alarmed by the sudden intrusion. Scott composes himself and looks at the man who spoke to him, a confused look etched across his face. “Thomas?” The suave Thomas Princeton simply winks at Scott. “What are you doing here?” Scott had quickly deduced that this wasn’t the type of place Princeton would frequent, so the following answer served as a massive surprise to the young reporter. “What am I doing here? I own this place, Scott.” “You own… you own this warehouse?” Princeton nods. “Among many other things. Danny is waiting for you in the office.” Princeton leads Scott around the perimeter of the boogieing crowd and Scott thinks about how strange it is for Princeton to own this establishment. After Danny had gotten the better of weaselperson and put him down after two massive Equalizers, he had got onto the mic and declared that there would be an afterparty in Tonerville. It was the strangest thing, he couldn’t quite recall getting there. He remembered Owen and Coney picking him up in a worn-down, DeLorean that had clearly been tinkered with but after that… he was blank. “He was impressive, wasn’t he?” “Against Kaza- I mean, weaselperson?” “Yes, it was quite the thorough performance.” Scott didn’t verbally reply. “Thorough” was one way to describe the squash that had taken place on Fallout but Scott had jotted down four words in his notepad when watching the match unfold; best in the world. Danny already had won back over a lot of the crowd by virtue of his press conference but being flanked to the rin by his buddies, fan favorites Owen and Coney, had sealed the deal. Danny wrestled spectacularly to boot and reminded everyone of his ability. Soon, Scott found himself following Thomas into a dingy office where a smartly-dressed Danny Toner sat, hair combed back in a slick manner, a mini mountain of white powder on a plate in front of him. He grinned happily at Scott. Scott instinctively found himself reaching for his vape and attempting a pull, but the blinking light at the end of the vape indicated that it was finally out of juice. “You’re out, Scott. Let me grab another one for you, I’ve got some behind the bar. I won’t be long.” “Thomas, grab me one too, please!” Thomas nods curtly at Danny and leaves without another word. Danny doesn’t say anything as he uses a credit card to cut out a sizeable-looking line of the white powder. Without looking at Scott, he utters one word. “Fancy indulgin’?” Scott holds his hands up, not wanting to offend Danny, but not intending to partake in this particular recreational activity. “Oh, thanks, Danny, but I’ll pass.” “Awh come on, we’re celebrating.” Danny holds out a rolled-up twenty-dollar bill and despite not wanting to, Scott finds himself accepting it. “That’s it pal, one little line won’t hurt.” Scott takes a deep breath, he hadn’t indulged in anything this hard since his late teen years. He perches over the white powder and after a slight hesitation, snorts it up his right nostril. He immediately feels a rush circulate around his entire body, and for the first time in a while, feels some clarity. “Good shit, ain’t it? Take a seat, pal.” Danny taps the empty space on the old couch beside him. Scott cautiously takes a seat, careful to avoid the spring jutting out from under the fabric. “A’ight, I need it straight, Scotty-boy; what did ya think?” “Of the coke?” “Nawh, man! What did ya think of followin’ me? Was it what you were expectin’? You didn’t actually think I was really that piece of shit you see on TV? You’ve seen the real me, the one FWA wanted ya to see all along. Any thoughts?” “Eh, well-” “Another line?” “What?” “Do another line. Loosen up, trust me, I want to hear what ya actually think. Ya don’t have to be nervous, I’m sure ya ain’t got anythin’ too damning to say, right? Tell me what ya make of it all. What did ya discover about me?” Scott looks down as Danny racks him up another line. Scott, confessedly, was quicker this time to hunch over the cocaine and snort it up his left nostril. It burned slightly but he felt his confidence growing and the cogs began to whir slightly differently in his brain. “I don’t really know what to tell you, Danny. I don’t know if there’s any point, I feel like you already know. I thought you were this crazy fucker that couldn’t be controlled but to be honest, I think you’re just a guy at the top of his game.” Danny says nothing, he simply does out an even bigger line than the previous two. Scott doesn’t need any prompting. He happily snorts the line. “Still… there’s an undeniable aura around you. Frankly, I was scared shitless about meeting you, but then I realized that you aren’t all bad. You’re one of the, nah, you are the best wrestler in the world. I understand now why FWA let me in and let me see you with everything peeled back. I had already started thinking you were okay but meeting your friends confirmed it. You sure as hell did a number on weaselperson, but that’s just your job. Worst thing I have to say about you is that you’re a little cocky. “Hah! More than a little.” “I’ve found all great stars are. I’m sure you know that seeing as your going to face off against-” “Oh, he ain’t that cocky!” Despite feeling a little off from the cocaine, Scott still laughs as Danny jokes around. Danny is laughing too as he puts out another line and Scott wondered if he’d had enough, but dutifully sniffs it. “I think you’re one of the best wrestlers in the world. People talk about Cyrus Truth or MvH… and in their own ways they’re some of the best too but everyone forgets about you. I don’t know if it’s because of how you look, everyone sees you as the handsome man and not a warrior like them. Maybe it’s because of how you spend more time talking than fighting. In my mind though; you’re the best. You do it like no other… you’re just you.” Danny puts an arm around Scott and softly pulls him in close to him. “You’re damn right I’m me. I beat everyone that gets put in front of me and yeah, I might be a lil cocky doin’ so but hell, I’ve earned that have I not? I beat Thomas West. Devin Golden. Alyster Black. Chris Peacock. weaselperson. Fuck me, that tough bitch put up a fight, he nearly got my arm at the start but as soon as I got goin’, I ran through him. He was bein’ pinned like everyone else before long. You see it, don’t you, Scott? I am what they always wanted me to be. Not just The Last Draw in the Sky, not just Danny fuckin’ Toner… I’m the best professional wrestler in the world. I owe everything to the FWA for helpin’ me achieve my potential and you know what? It wouldn’t have been the same journey if I hadn’t a few wobbly moments along the way now, would it? Those little hiccups are actually what makes me, Scott. I know you thought you were goin’ to get some crazy scandal by followin’ me along but all I am is the best in the FWA.” Scott feels like he’s in a trance, he’s moving on auto-pilot as he leans over and helps himself to another line of cocaine. Princeton duly arrives back and hands Scott a vape. Scott looks down at the blue trim and greedily puffs on it. Red-eyed, he looks at Danny. “I’m not doing the report. I can’t do it justice.” Danny smiles at him before catching a vape tossed to him by Princeton. “Maybe you should let ol’ Shake know, eh?” Scott quickly reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone. He rapidly hammers at the screen typing an email. ======================= TO: shakemeltzer@pwoutsider.com FROM: scottbrown@pwoutsider.com RE: Danny Toner Report ======================= Dear Mr. Meltzer, It is with great regret I inform you that I will not be able to compile a report fit for printing about Danny Toner. After spending the last few weeks with Danny Toner, I have decided I simply could not pen an article that is riveting enough to publish. We had the wrong idea of what type of man Danny Toner is. I know you had been hoping for a juicy piece full of disparaging comments but the reality is much simpler than we had hoped. Danny is a good man. I am sure you watched Fallout and witnessed Danny pin the former Zachary Kazadi, now known as weaselperson. Therein lies the problem. Just as weaselperson is a character and an over-exaggeration of Kazadi, so too is the persona we see Danny Toner take on when he’s on screen. Danny is one of, if not THE best professional wrestler I have ever seen in my life but that’s where it stops. He isn’t a bad person. He’s not a crazy lunatic. The story I have to tell about him is frankly, rather boring. This isn’t worth our time. Yours sincerely, Scott Brown ======================= Scott pushes the ‘send’ button and a quick swoosh sound emanates from his phone. He looks up at Danny and see’s him drawing on his vape. “I didn’t have you down as somebody that vapes their weed! What is it? The Blue Incan Kush or the Red Incan Kush?” Danny leans back in his seat, smiling at Scott. He takes another puff before speaking in a distorted voice. “I smoke Purple Incan Kush.”

RED INCAN KUSH Scott hesitantly reaches out. “I’ll take the Blue Incan Kush, thanks.” Scott takes a deep drag of the vape. He knows he should stop after a few seconds and the sickly aroma filling his mouth eventually hits hard and he begins coughing. “Good stuff, right?” Choking between coughs, Scott nods his head. His eyes water and it takes him a minute to compose himself. When he does, a warm, fuzzy feeling takes over his body and he feels his thoughts being slightly clouded. “Yeah, yeah… really good.” This prompts a smile from Princeton. He looks extremely pleased with himself. Scott tries to hand the vape back but gets firmly rejected. “No, no! That’s for you. It always helps me get my head straight, you’re going to need it if you’ll be working closely with Danny.” Scott looks down at the vape with the blue rim in his hand and back up at Princeton. “You sure?” “But of course! It’s a gift.” Princeton looks down at the expensive TAG Heuer watch adorning his wrist. “Well, no time like the present! He should be at the bar, in you go!” Scott blinks a couple of times in rapid succession. He wasn’t sure if he was extremely stoned or had just misheard. “You’re not coming?” “He’s expecting you. I’ve… other business to attend to. Best of luck, I’m sure you’ll learn some fascinating things.” Princeton slaps Scott on the shoulder and without another word returns to his vehicle. The slamming of the driver’s door shocks Scott from his stupor. He feels a sweat building up just above his brow, he had expected Princeton to break the ice with Danny and was more than a little worried about being left to his own devices. He takes a quick puff of the vape to steady himself, before pocketing it and walking right through the front doors of the Renaissance Hotel. A little past reception, he finds Danny sitting at the resident's bar, swigging directly out of a bottle of Jameson. His brash, New York accent calls out to a preoccupied bartender. “Try and take it back again, I dare ya! Fuckin’ asshole.” Scott takes a deep breath a few feet from Toner and is about to make his presence known when without looking, Toner calls out. “You tryna creep up on me you fuckin’ piece of shit? Scott, right? Sit down and have a motherfuckin’ drink!” “Uh…” “Drink.” Danny turns around and hands the bottle of Jameson to Scott. “The fuck is wrong?” Trembling, Scott takes a small swig as Danny looks Scott up and down. “Don’t just freakin’ stand there! Would ya sit down? You look like you’re about to fuckin’ shit yourself, Princeton said that you’d be able for this.” Gulping, Scott takes the high stool adjacent to Danny. He sits there for a moment, allowing his ass to sink into the cushy leather bestowed atop the stool, before looking at Danny. He is rather rugged in person and looks like somebody straight off a movie set, though he is dressed casually. He is wearing a black Stone Island tracksuit and though Scott was sure it had cost a pretty penny, he felt that Danny looked rather out of place at a fancy bar in a tracksuit. Danny, for his part, didn’t seem to care. “Are ya just gonna sit there starin’ at me or what? This is freakin’ amateur hour, ain’t you got somethin’ to say for yourself?” Danny yanks the bottle of whiskey out of his hand and Scott grips the edge of the bar top. He eyes the whiskey - something he doesn’t usually indulge in - before cautiously taking his small notepad out of his hoodie pocket. Nervously, he speaks. “Yeah… eh… do I just get right into it?” Danny unflinchingly slams back another slug of whiskey before nodding at Scott. “Well, uh, how do you feel about beating the current World Champion, Chris Peacock, earlier tonight?” “How do I feel? I don’t feel fuckin’ shit! What did ya think I was gonna say? I’m overjoyed at doin’ what everyone knew I would and beatin’ Peacock again? That bitch ain’t shit, I had scarier fuckin’ teachers in school!” Scott stammers a bit, he wasn’t sure how to follow up, but it turns out he didn’t have to. “See takin’ care of business with Chris when he’s the World Champion? That ain’t any different than takin’ care of him any other time. It ain’t any different than takin’ care of anybody. In and out, job is done, like the first time you ever fuck a broad. If you need somethin’ different how about this; I’m fuckin’ ecstatic, Scott.” Scott steadies himself as he takes a few notes. The sentence was full of sarcasm, but was the only printable thing said. “ Boisterous crowd though, right?” Danny laughs aloud, nearly spewing the whiskey from his mouth. “Didn’t expect anything less from those smelly fuckin’ pricks in New Orleans. They’ve been pissed at ya boy ever since I slapped the shit out of Devin Golden over and over and caused a little ruckus in their kip of a town! I’m surprised they weren’t already booing the house down, have you seen the fuckin’ state of FWA? Not one fuckin’ person worth a damn in that company, Scott. You can print that, man.” “Uhm, well, you never lost the World Title. You were forced to vacate it following the Lights Out pay-per-view last year… any comments on that?” Danny takes a long drink before loudly slamming the bottle down on the ornate bar top. He sighs. “That fuckin’ hurt man. There’s no other way to put it. I was at the top of the god-damn mountain and ain’t anybody from Black Jesus to Jesus Christ himself that could’ve knocked me off it. How the fuck guys have run around with my belt pretendin’ to be champ is fuckin’ beyond my comprehension. It doesn’t matter what they do next, I’m fuckin’ back, and ain’t nobody gonna stop me doin’ whatever the hell I damn please. I don’t know who’s next, but I feel fuckin’ sorry for them.” Danny grunts as he hears the bell for last orders being rung. He picks up the bottle of Jameson and tucks it under his arm. “I ain’t one for hittin’ the nest early Scott, but the fuckin’ journos wanna see me tomorrow and I ain’t missin’ out on that. Come with. Ya might learn somethin’.” Scott hesitates as he considers the option. He already felt extremely unnerved around Danny but this seemed like a golden opportunity for him and his report. “Really? That’d be great! Management won’t mind?” Danny rifles around his pocket and produces a similar-looking vape to the one Princeton had provided Scott with. He takes a pull of the vape and then cruelly laughs. “Fuck management.” Scott nervously draws on his vape as he stands off to the side of a stage. He hadn’t slept well in the room he booked in the Renaissance Hotel and he had spent the majority of the night thinking about his initial interaction with Danny. The man in question was positioned behind a table on the stage, unapologetically smoking a large blunt and puffing smoke O’s into the air. There are rows upon rows of journalists, reporters, and media correspondents lining the spacious room. Scott had only seen turnouts like this in other sports for the likes of Giannis Antetokounmpo, Cristiano Ronaldo, and Tom Brady. Scott looks at the FWA banners on either side of the table on the stage and then to the promotional poster behind Danny; the one featuring World Champion Chris Peacock and his challenger, Cyrus Truth. Two very big stars, no doubt, but both had fallen this very week to Danny Toner and… weaselperson respectively. Scott had seen a tweet on his way here that had announced Toner and weaselperson would meet in the main event of the next Fallout but he was willing to bet the entirety of his bank account that Danny hadn’t been scouring Twitter and likely didn’t know of the upcoming match. “Are ya all fuckin’ ready? I ain’t got all day. Let’s get this damn thing over with.” Scott looks up and sees Danny leaning on the table looking out at the gathered press. His half-smoked blunt hangs from his mouth, a few specks of ash landing on his red Prada polo shirt. “Any of you motherfuckers ask anythin’ that ya shouldn’t and I’ll personally escort ya the fuck outta here, we clear?” Danny eyeballs a few reporters in the front row who meekly nod their heads in agreement. “Aight then, what ya got for me?” Almost immediately an explosion of noise takes over as every reporter in the place attempts to shout over everybody else to get a question to Danny. Danny laughs and stands up on the stage and motions for them to calm down. He points to a middle-aged woman three rows back from the stage. “Shirley Matthews, Los Angeles Times. Danny, you achieved quite the victory over reigning FWA World Champion Chris Peacock on Fallout, a feat that many have likened to weaselperson’s victory over the number one contender Cyrus Truth on Meltdown. Do you think that the winner of the match between you and weaselperson has a right to be added to the main event of Back in Business?” Danny looks a little bit taken back on stage after receiving the news, but after a moment’s hesitation, doesn’t miss a beat. “They puttin’ me in the ring with Weasler? That should be a fuckin’ bloodbath, get all you sick fuckers talkin’, am I right? Management should probably get onto PETA right now and let ‘em know that there’s gonna be a live slaughterhouse airin’ on Fallout. I ain’t comin’ with a whole lotta hate for weaselperson, in fact, I respect what Kaz is doin’, for real, but that doesn’t change the fact that if he’s across from me, Arm-Hunter or anthropomorphic piss-take, he’s gonna end up with his teeth down his throat by way of my right knee. That’s just straight-up facts. But… I won’t take that much pleasure in doin’ so. Helluva lot worse offenders and pretenders than dub-pee. He ain’t too bad, so it’s really a little unfortunate. Weasler ain’t done bad by me, it ain’t a personal beef but damn, you said it: should the winner have the right to right to be added to the Back in Business main event?” Danny stands up from his seat and turns before spitting on the promotional poster featuring Cyrus and Chris. “Weasler and Danny Toner should be the main event of Back in Business. Fuck these two over-rated, over-pushed, lucky-to-be-there bastards. I fucked up Chris Peacock and Weasler showed in a normal wrestling contest he’s got the better of Cy’. That’s what fuckin’ wrong with this company though, isn’t it? They’ve no fuckin’ guts. They never pull the trigger. How you gonna have these two fools paraded out as the best in the company when they’ve already been put on their fuckin’ back by their betters? They could change the main, they could make it a four-way, but they won’t. They’re spineless bastards and all of YOU are the reason they’re allowed to be. Nobody except me stands up and calls out the blatant bullshit runnin’ through this company. There are no fuckin’ consequences in FWA. When I beat weaselperson on Fallout they can beg all they want, I won’t be savin’ their damn flagship show, they’re stuck with the shit they have. If weaselperson beat me… well that ain’t gonna happen and I’m already losin’ patience with this shit. Next question.” Danny sits back down and relights his joint as cameras flash from the crowd. Scott is nearly putting his pen through the paper of his notepad trying to keep up with what Danny is saying. Danny looks over at him and winks as the next question gets asked. “Terry Judderman, Chicago Tribunal. A lot has been made of your return to FWA but I want to ask about what happened prior to your return. You’ve hospitalized people you once called a friend, brutalized innocent people simply to get under rival’s skins, and you’ve verbally run down every fan, competitor, and staff member of the FWA on a constant basis. Do you have any regrets over your actions?” Danny looks at the joint resting between his fingers and then glares down at the balding man asking the question. “You know I’d offer ya a hit of this Terry but it seems you’re high as a fuckin’ kite already! Regret my actions? Why the fuck would I regret my actions? I’m the only damn thing worth a fuckin’ dime in this entire company. I’m the only motherfucker who moves the needle. I’m the guy that spikes a buy rate. I’m the guy that steals the whole fuckin’ show even if the only thing I do is come out and talk shit in the ring. I could fart into a fuckin’ microphone and it’d be the most played clip on the internet the next day. People wanna see Danny Toner no matter what he fuckin’ does. So why should I run around pretendin’ to be somethin’ I’m not? That’s the difference between me and Kaz. He’s a damn good wrestler, probably better than me, but ain’t nobody ever bought a fuckin’ ticket to see Kazadi wrestle, and ain’t nobody gonna buy a ticket to see’im just ‘cause he’s got a funky fuckin’ costume on. I ain’t got no regrets because frankly, this company would be in the fuckin’ dust without me. If anything, every single person that has a single freakin’ share in the FWA should be bendin’ over and lettin’ me give it to them raw. Weasler’s gonna get a length on Fallout and he’s gonna squeal like the fuckin’ animal he is, why don’tcha ask him if he has any motherfuckin’ regrets after that, huh? What a stupid fuckin’ question that you always ask anyone that you think has done wrong by people, done wrong by the company. Anybody that says they regret their past actions are lying to your fuckin’ face. Least I’ll stand up here and say; hell nawh! If you gave me a pipe, I’d drill it into that bitch Dreyer’s skull again. If Ryan Rondo tried to walk out and take my fuckin’ TV time, I’d put’em straight back into the hospital. If you give me a live mic and tell me to go out and speak, I’mma tell you exactly how it is and I don’t give a fuckin’ shit what anybody thinks about that. Time to wake up folks, this is my fuckin’ company. What’s gonna happen after this press conference? Fine me another 10 stacks? I’ll pay that every god-damn show, baby! Who gives a fuck about that? That’s chump change. When me bouncin’ weaselperson from post to post in that ring has more interest than the Back in Business main event, ten grand ain’t gonna get anywhere near fixin’ the problem of this company. It ain’t gonna be anywhere near enough.” Some of the color has drained from Scott’s face and it appears he’s not alone in that. A lot of the press have stopped taking notes - nearly everything Danny’s saying is unprintable anyway - and are staring up at him, gobsmacked at his nonchalant vitriol. After a few awkward moments pass, a young female reporter steps up and breaks the silence. “Tanya Shalowi, USA Today. I’ll keep this simple; what are you planning on doing at Back in Business?” “Fuckin’ finally.” Danny stands up and takes another hit of his blunt. “Everyone seems to be forgettin’ I offered every motherfuckin’ asshole on the roster a chance to shut me up and dance with The Last Draw in the Sky. Nobody fuckin’ answered. Nobody wants none of this. The only person that even had the gall to fuckin’ step to me had the good sense to hide their fuckin’ face behind a mask. I want whoever the fuck that was to listen real closely to what I’ve gotta say next; I’ll give you one fuckin’ chance to make yourself known. I’m gonna come out to that ring at Meltdown next week and ya better fuckin’ show your face and let it be known that you’re willingly taking the death sentence I’ve offered out for Back in Business. But if ya don’t? Keep hiding. Keep operation’ in the damn shadows. Keep runnin’. ‘Cause if you make your presence known again without tellin’ me who the fuck you are… I’ll fuckin’ bury you. I ain’t talkin’ in the ring, I ain’t talkin’ at Back in Business. I will literally cave your fuckin’ skull in and piss all over you as you spasm out. Next time I see you, if you don’t show me who you are, you’re fuckin’ finished. Whoever the fuck you are - keep the fuckin’ eyes. For anyone else that’s even considerin’ steppin’ to me… watch Fallout. Watch and see what happens when you come at me. Watch me drag Kazadi from that fuckin’ costume and beat him black and blue all over the damn arena before I knock him the fuck out, cover him in petrol, and light that fuckin’ weasel up.” Danny lets the rather morbid threat sink in as the press look around nervously at each other, worried about what the future hold. He flicks the still-lit joint into the front row of reporters and smirks. “And if that masked motherfucker and everyone else gets their heads checked and realizes it’s in their best interest to stay the fuck away… I’ll grab any two bums off the street and win that new bling. I’ll grab Owen and Coney and take the Trios Championships and show what a fuckin’ mockery this company really is. That’s it. Press conference is over.” Danny blows a kiss as cameras begin to flash once again and reporters realizing they may have missed their opportunity begin shouting up ignored questions. Danny hops down off the side of the stage and side-eyes Scott. “Ya comin’?” He doesn’t wait for a response. He just walks off leaving Scott staring after him. He’s beginning to realize that ‘Danny Toner’ isn’t a character. He realizes Danny is very, very dangerous. Against his better judgment, Scott follows behind. A plate of lukewarm pizza rolls sits untouched in the lap of Scott Brown as he listens to the most bizarre person he has ever encountered talk relentlessly about a traffic safety song he performs for kids in elementary schools all over the country. "And when I'm finished, I hand out the greatest swag to all the kids! They love it, don't they Owen?" A man just slightly Scott's junior sits furiously typing away on a keyboard. He looks up, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. "Uh, yeah, sure." "What has you so preoccupied, Owen?" The man sighs at the man in a traffic cone. Scott can't help but draw on his vape. He had suspected that following Danny Toner in the weeks preceding Back in Business would see him in some strange situations - but traffic cones and weaselpeople? What would be next? "I'm trying to finish this paper before the deadline, Coney! I don't want to be stuck here forever!" "Why not? The University of Conerville is great!" Owen simply shakes his head and turns back to his computer. Scott had admittedly thought Danny was winding him up when he said to meet him at The University of Conerville, but low and behold, the place actually existed. Scott shifts uncomfortably on the cheap, plastic seat and actually finds himself wishing Danny would show up. His inquiring nature creeps to the fore of his mind and his thoughts drift to his budding report. "So, I remember seeing you guys back up Danny a few times in the FWA but how do you know him?" "Oh, we go waaaay back. Danny's one of our best friends." "He's not our friend, Coney." Scott sits forward in his seat as Owen stops typing and spins his swivel chair around to face 'Coney'. He imploringly looks at Coney, explaining in a way a parent would to a small child. "He just uses us. He drags us into things he knows we don't want any part of and when we've served our purpose, he casts us aside like everyone else in his life." "I don't believe that, Owen. Didn't you hear him say he was going to ask us to partner up with him to win those new Trios Championships?? I remember at The Warehouse Trios-" Owen violently shakes his head, wide-eyed, and makes no secret of the fact that it's because of Scott's presence. Both begin speaking in low tones. "We're not meant to talk about that, remember?" "Yeah, yeah, my bad. I forgot." Owen and Coney look at Scott who simply shrugs at the peculiar behaviour. He chooses to try and build a rapport with the two, they had already provided some fascinating insight that he was definitely going to include in his report. "Coney is an interesting nickname. What's your actual name?" "Traffic Cone #2!" The chirpy and cheerful reply lightens Scott's mood and he laughs aloud. "Number two? What happened to number one?" Owen's silent mouthing of "NO!!!" was caught too late. Coney's demeanor somehow completely changes, and weird, psychedelic music plays from seemingly nowhere. "What the hell is going on?" Owen sighs. "We're about to have a flashback." "What do you mean!?" Before an explanation can be given, the door to the dorm slams open, and a crazed-looking Danny Toner walks in, the eerie music stopping as suddenly as it started and Coney's expression returning to normal. "DANNY’S HOME!" "Danny! You're back!" "You’re damn fuckin’ right, I’m back!" Danny glances at Owen. "What are you fuckin’ lookin’ at? You been a’ight to Scotty-boy?" "Nothing Danny. Scott’s good." Scott notes the two oscillating responses from the duo he had found himself spending his time with prior to Danny's arrival. Danny cackles at Scott before jumping down on a battered, leather sofa, propping his feet on the coffee table "So did ya all get freakin’ started with this shit or what?" The blank stares and shrugging of the shoulders from around cause Danny to laugh. "Ya mean you’ve all just been sittin’ here with your thumbs up your asses not sayin’ why to each other? Scott’s from PWOutisder-" "Oh, wow! With our buddy, Shake Meltzer?" Danny scoffs and nods his head as Coney approaches Scott. "Tell him I was asking for him, won't you? Last time I can remember seeing him was after The Trios Ware-" A murderous look from Danny causes Traffic Cone #2 to quickly change subject. "Was uh, um, eh, a couple of summers ago!" "You need to learn when to shut the fuck up, Coney. This loser fuckin’ journo has been followin’ me around ‘cause he wants to put together some piece of shit story about me. It’s whatever. All publicity is good publicity. He said he needed some personal insight or some shit so I recommended he speak to you two dicks." Scott notices Owen turn his head and bite his lip in evident frustration. The insult seems to have flown over Coney’s head. Danny shoots Owen a look, perhaps the facial expression hadn't been so guarded. Danny plucks a pizza roll off the plate on Scott's lap and pops it in his mouth. "The hell are these? Are these even cooked? Fuck Coney, Make new ones." "Sure thing, Danny! I'll be back in a jiffy!" Coney excitedly runs over, inexplicably humming "Old Town Road", grabs the plate, and dashes off to - presumably - the kitchen. Danny waits for a few moments and then turns to stare directly at Owen. "We need to talk." Owen gulps nervously and his face whitens. "Uh, about what, Danny?" "About us. I’m puttin’ you two idiots back in the fuckin’ game. You better do a better fuckin’ job than last time or we’re gonna have a problem, a’ight?" Owen, trembling a little, interjects - his voice a mix of fear and anger. "A better job? Us!? What could we do? You left us for dead on Grouse Mountain, Danny!" "The fuck I did! Jhunha was there, you were fine." Owen grows a little louder. "That's exactly the thing, Danny! You don't take us seriously and you don't care about us - you just look after yourself!" "What the fuck did you just say to me?" Even Scott tenses up and stops writing notes, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. He had a funny feeling that Owen wasn't one for cutting... or knives. "I, uh... I meant-" "No, no, no, come on, spit it out, bitch." Danny snarls at Owen. "Ya gonna cry about me kickin’ you to the curb? You want me to say sorry, Owen." "Uhm... no, that’s alright, Danny?" "Oh, that’s alright, is it?" Danny steps forward and rocks Owen with a vicious right hook. "Listen here, you windy fuckin’ cunt. I said that I’m puttin’ you back in the fuckin’ game. That’s fuckin’ it. If anything goes awry against Kazadi, you two get the fuck out there, pronto. Don’t even think about bailin’ or it won’t be you that I hit; it’ll be that little blueberry in the kitchen - you got that, you piece of shit?" Scott wants to intervene, but the sight of Owen trembling on the floor, a wet patch forming on his trousers, makes him fearfully hold back. Danny kicks a downed Owen in the stomach, causing him to cry out. "Okay, okay! Just stay away from Coney!" Danny drags Owen to his feet and dusts him down, a terrified Owen unable to meet his eyes. Scott doesn’t know where to look and a small part of him is thankful as Coney comes crashing back into the room holding a tray full of piping-hot pizza roll goodness. “Hope everybody is hungry!” Pulsating dance music reverberates through a packed, sweaty warehouse. Scott feels a little out of place amongst the throngs of dancing bodies rubbing up against each other and the flashing lights are making him feel dizzy. He politely rejects the advances of an Asian woman wearing nothing but a pink Real Madrid shirt - and presumably, hopefully, thinks Scott, underwear - before scurrying off to the side of the festivities. He takes a hit of his vape, cursing silently to himself as he feels the flavor waning. “Looks like you’re nearly out.” Scott nearly jumps out of his skin, alarmed by the sudden intrusion. Scott composes himself and looks at the man who spoke to him, a confused look etched across his face. “Thomas?” The suave Thomas Princeton simply winks at Scott. “What are you doing here?” Scott had quickly deduced that this wasn’t the type of place Princeton would frequent, so the following answer served as a massive surprise to the young reporter. “What am I doing here? I own this place, Scott.” “You own… you own this warehouse?” Princeton nods. “Among many other things. Danny is waiting for you in the office.” Princeton leads Scott around the perimeter of the boogieing crowd and Scott thinks about how strange it is for Princeton to own this establishment. After Danny had ripped the mask off Zachary Kazadi and beat him to a bloody pulp at Fallout, he had got onto the mic and declared that there would be an afterparty in Tonerville. It was the strangest thing, he couldn’t quite recall getting there. He remembered Owen and Coney picking him up in a worn-down, DeLorean that had clearly been tinkered with but after that… he was blank. “He was impressive, wasn’t he?” “Against weasel- I mean, against Kazadi?” “Yes, it was quite the thorough performance.” Scott didn’t verbally reply. “Thorough” was one way to describe the massacre that had taken place on Fallout but Scott had jotted down two words in his notepad when watching the match - if you could even call it that - unfold; ruthlessly violent. Danny already had Kazadi beat when he waved down Coney and Owen, the former unwittingly distracting the referee while the latter slid Danny a pair of brass knuckles that really let the blood-shed begin. Soon, Scott found himself following Thomas into a dingy office where a topless Danny Toner sat, hair strewn wildly about the place, a mini mountain of white powder on a plate in front of him. He grinned crazily at Scott. Scott instinctively found himself reaching for his vape and attempting a pull, but the blinking light at the end of the vape indicated that it was finally out of juice. “You’re out, Scott. Let me grab another one for you, I’ve got some behind the bar. I won’t be long.” “Yo, Princeton! Get me one.” Thomas nods curtly at Danny and leaves without another word. Danny doesn’t say anything as he uses a credit card to cut out a sizeable-looking line of the white powder. Without looking at Scott, he utters one word. “Line.” Scott holds his hands up, not wanting to offend Danny, but not intending to partake in this particular recreational activity. “Oh, thanks, Danny, but I’ll pass.” “It wasn’t an offer.” Danny holds out a rolled-up twenty-dollar bill and despite not wanting to, Scott finds himself accepting it. “‘Mon man, I’m tellin’ ya to do a line.” Scott takes a deep breath, he hadn’t indulged in anything this hard since his late teen years. He perches over the white powder and after a slight hesitation, snorts it up his right nostril. He immediately feels a rush circulate around his entire body, and for the first time in a while, feels some clarity. “Good shit, ain’t it? Take a seat, pal.” Danny taps the empty space on the old couch beside him. Scott cautiously takes a seat, careful to avoid the spring jutting out from under the fabric. “A’ight, I need it straight, Scotty-boy; what did ya think?” “Of the coke?” “Of the fuckin’ match, man. Of my boys, Coney and Owen. Of the press conference. Of freakin’ me. You’re the hot-shot journalist, right? You study people and events, so I’m askin’... what did ya think of me and mines?” “Eh, well-” “Do another line.” “What?” “Do another line. I don’t want your stammerin’, blabberin’ ass fillin’ me full of shit. Take a hit of that shit, grow a fuckin’ set, and tell me what you fuckin’ think. Tell me what you’ve learned. Tell me what you’ve decided.” Scott looks down as Danny racks him up another line. Scott, confessedly, was quicker this time to hunch over the cocaine and snort it up his left nostril. It burned slightly but he felt his confidence growing and the cogs began to whir slightly differently in his brain. “I don’t really know what to tell you, Danny. I don’t know if there’s much point, I feel like you already know. You are completely unhinged, you are wild, you have no remorse about anything you do and… you do a hell of a lot of shit. Bad shit.” Danny says nothing, he simply does out an even bigger line than the previous two. Scott doesn’t need any prompting. He happily snorts the line. “Still… there’s an undeniable aura around you. Frankly, I was scared shitless about meeting you, even more so after watching you at the press conference. Then the shit with Owen and Coney… man… I don’t know, is it necessary? I don’t even know where to begin with what you did to Kazadi, at the press conference you talked about the two of you being put into the main event at Back in Business… I don’t think the guy’s even going to make Back in Business. Fuck, man, you said it wasn’t personal with Kazadi.” “It ain’t.” “Then what the hell would you do if it was? What are you going to do when you face off against-” “Don’t say his fuckin’ name!” Despite the cocaine-induced confidence billowing through Scott, he still understood his place in this dynamic. He quickly shuts his mouth. Danny puts out another line and Scott dutifully sniffed it. “I think you’re one of the worst people in the world. People talk about Shawn Summers or Jeremy Best… and in their own ways they’re twisted too but everyone forgets about you. I don’t know if it’s because of how you look. Maybe it’s because of how you captivate people when you speak. In my mind; you’re worse. You do it for no reason. Not for the right reason or for the wrong reason.. Just no reason. You do it just because… just because you can.” Danny puts an arm around Scott and roughly pulls him in close to him. “You’re damn right I do it because I can. I’ll fuck up every single person I meet, and nobody can stop me. Thomas West couldn’t. Devin Golden couldn’t. Alyster Black couldn’t. Chris Peacock couldn’t. Kazadi couldn’t. Oh, he tried. No doubt, he tried, they all tired. Kaz tried to snap my arm, he tried damn fuckin’ hard, but in the end… it was him that was a bloody fuckin’ mess grovellin’ at my feet. Do you get it now, Scott? Do you understand who I am? I’m The Last Draw in the Sky. I’m Danny fuckin’ Toner. I’m not a professional wrestling god… I just am god. This whole thing, FWA, the world, everything… it’s all mine. Nobody can fuckin’ touch me. All anyone can hope to do is fly so fuckin’ close to me that they’re protected by proximity, that I have my eyes on other targets, other people who have not yet bowed down to me. Everything goes through me. I decide who lives. I decide what’s important. I decide who I am. Nobody fuckin’ else.” Scott feels like he’s in a trance, he’s moving on auto-pilot as he leans over and helps himself to another line of cocaine. Princeton duly arrives back and hands Scott a vape. Scott looks down at the red trim and greedily puffs on it. Red-eyed, he looks at Danny. “I’m not doing the report. I can’t do it justice.” Danny smirks at him before catching a vape tossed to him by Princeton. “Maybe you should let ol’ Shake know, eh?” Scott quickly reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone. He rapidly hammers at the screen typing an email. ======================= TO: shakemeltzer@pwoutsider.com FROM: scottbrown@pwoutsider.com RE: Danny Toner Report ======================= Dear Mr. Meltzer, It is with great regret I inform you that I will not be able to compile a report fit for printing about Danny Toner. After spending the last few weeks with Danny Toner, I have decided I simply could not pen an article that does justice to just what type of man Danny Toner is. I know you had been hoping for a juicy piece full of disparaging comments against what many consider the plague of FWA. This is not what I found from my time with Danny. I am sure you watched Fallout and witnessed the glorious brutalization of the weaselperson-masquerading Zachary Kadazi. Men like Zachary Kazadi are a disgrace to this sport, no, they are a disgrace to this world. You may be content with swallowing the garbage that the FWA churns out. I am not. I will not mindlessly buy into the shit that they produce. Danny Toner isn’t somebody to be bemoaned or criticized. Danny Toner is quite simply, one of the greatest men I have ever met in my life. He has made me see. Yours sincerely, Scott Brown ======================= Scott pushes the ‘send’ button and a quick swoosh sound emanates from his phone. He looks up at Danny and see’s him drawing on his vape. “I didn’t have you down as somebody that vapes their weed! What is it? The Blue Incan Kush or the Red Incan Kush?” Danny leans back in his seat, smiling at Scott. He takes another puff before speaking in a distorted voice. “I smoke Purple Incan Kush.”

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PURPLE INCAN KUSH

Danny sits waiting in the lobby of the Renaissance Hotel, tapping his Prada trainer repeatedly on the lavishly tiled reception area. The jittery left leg had always been something Danny was prone to, it didn't necessarily mean anything, it was as likely to be a result of excitement as it was nerves. Sometimes, like this particular time, it simply meant Danny was deep in thought. He could not describe the euphoric feeling rushing through his body nor could he attribute the feeling to a specific happening.

He had initially felt it back when he pulled on the Alyster Black mask for the first time and got the drop on Black Jesus himself. Danny had thought that was just the rush of knowing he was finally back in the game but the feeling had cropped up a few times since then and in each incident of it occurring, the feeling grew stronger, more intense, more addictive. Danny licks his lips as he thinks about the times it happened.

He recalls the exuberant rush he got when he clocked the fan in the jaw on the way to the ring at Carnal Contendership. Thinking of that weekend makes him cast his mind back further, to when he called Allen Price a pedophile live on pay-per-view at The Grand March. The embarrassment he caused Price made Danny feel really good. He couldn't decide what was sweeter: pinning the paper-World Champion to the mat after cleaning his head off with an Equalizer or riling up those dirty New Orleans bastards so much that they nearly rioted. He was sure he'd seen a couple of people get trampled on when Chris and he brought the fight to the crowd. That recent memory causes him to experience that feeling again.

"Fuck."

Danny laughs a little as he comes to a sudden realization. He was getting off on this shit. He liked hurting people. He was enjoying causing them pain. The FWA was allowing him to do it. Thomas Princeton had called him about some young, interviewer from PWOutsider coming to interview him and maybe do a report on Danny. Danny had agreed and after initially regretting his decision, Danny was now getting excited at the prospect of how he could fuck over the reporter. In what way could Danny hurt him? Danny bites his lower lip and shudders as he takes a deep inhalation. Steadying himself, Danny gets up and makes a beeline for the residents' bar. The reporter would be here soon and Danny fancied some whiskey.

---

Danny peeks around a velvet curtain and sees the gathered crowd in the press conference room. Scott, the reporter from PWOutsider, is a little off to the side writing in the notepad that seemed permanently attached to his left hand. Damy grunts in discontent. He's pissed off about being carted out to do a press conference, especially when the subject matter was likely to be focused around what his Back in Business plans were. He hated that question. What are your plans for Back in Business? What the fuck sort of question was that? Do people just decide for themselves what they're doing at Back in Business these days? Danny scoffs. It was borderline disrespectful that he was being carted out in front of the media like some kind of circus act for them to "oooh" and "ahhh" over.

He supposes some smart-ass is going to ask him about his past actions and if he regrets any of the heinous things he's done. He, of course, would either answer by showing a modicum of remorse over it but stating that it was "just business" or he would go full-throttle and say that of course he didn't regret it, he'd do it again in a heartbeat to get what he wants. Danny gets a little giddy as he wonders what the responses would be if he told them what he actually felt. If he told them about how he gets a rush from decimating people. How thinking of what he did to Violet Dreyer slightly arouses him. How he feels like nobody can lay a finger on him.

Obviously, Danny feels that Back in Business only had one logical outcome for him - going head-to-head with whatever imbecile pulled on a mask and attacked him during his Chris Kennedy fake-out. If FWA had any sense at all, they'd add him to the stinker of a main event that they found themselves cornered with. Making Peacock his bitch was second nature and Danny had long been yearning to slap the shit out of Cyrus Truth and make him realize he was nothing more than a little, jumped-up pussy like everybody else in the company. Everybody in the FWA was just playing. They were running around taking turns winning belts, patting each other on the back, and trying to have fun. Danny feels his stomach turning.

Danny was unsure how the wool continued to be pulled over the eyes of everybody. Shit like the Meltdown Bounty, the gimmicky Golden Opportunity briefcase, and of course, the latest shiny, new toys; the FWA Trios Championship. Some sad bastards were actually going to get excited over it and some sloppy, pathetic losers in the back were going to think they were something when they won them. Danny could win those championships by himself, blindfolded, with his arms tied behind his back. They weren't going to mean shit, just like everything else in the company. Like everything else in the world. Danny and his desires were the only damn thing that mattered. He smiles in a sinister manner before taking out a joint, lighting it, and walking out onto the stage for the press conference.

---

Danny ducks his head into a granite alcove, using the recess in the wall to shield his half-lit joint from the wind, and sparks up. He takes a soothing drag and sighs before slumping his back up against the wall. He watches the university students pace across the courtyard in front of him. Some of them stare, maybe because he sticks out like a sore thumb being in his mid-thirties on the grounds of a college campus or perhaps it’s because he brazenly exhales cannabis-scented smoke out of his mouth without a care for anybody walking by. He ignores them all, he’s used to being the center of attention, and prying eyes haven’t bothered Danny in a long time. He had never enrolled in university, in fact, he never got much of a traditional education at all. Danny’s smarts were borne out of a different type of schooling. In Danny’s life, you didn’t get an “F” grade or held back a year when you failed. Failure wasn’t an option. If you failed, that was it. Lights out.

Danny isn’t stupid by any stretch, and he fancied himself against any other human being on the planet, but part of the reason he did back himself so highly was down to the fact that he could look at a prospective threat and assess what it would take to deal with it. weaselperson or Zachary Kazadi, it didn’t matter what name was worn, because deep down Danny knows that his upcoming opponent had more than enough to cause him a problem. Take him down. Maybe tap him out. Part of the problem was that Danny knew firsthand that people change. People evolve. The Kazadi from years ago that was the runner-up to Shannon O’Neal in the Carnal Contendership wasn’t the same weaselperson he is now - even if there was some unfortunate repeat positioning in the same event. No less than 2016 Toner was not the same as 2023 Toner. Toner had grown into a different beast and he was confident that the same was true for his opponent.

Danny walks away from the main hub of The University of Conerville and towards the dorms that housed their students. Toner figures a large part of the reason people have struggled against weaselperson is that they don’t quite know what to expect, they are unsure of what will be brought to the table. If there’s a downfall to Danny’s outspoken and braggadocious nature, it’s that people always know what to expect. A smash-mouth style. A relentless flurry of violence. A date with the best fighter in the world. Danny knows he needs to flip the script to guarantee he will be able to tear weaselperson apart in the visceral manner he so desperately craves. He peers in a window of a dorm and watches Traffic Cone #2 flap about a bewildered Scott Brown while an uninterested Owen the Intern types on a computer. He could use his old buddies. Be it them flanking him to his match to offer ringside support or them running interference… they definitely could make his path to battering Kaz easier or deadlier. He watches the three men like a predator stalking their prey. He tosses the roach of his joint and quickly replaces it with his purple-tipped weed vape.

Part of him wants to bust into the dormitory room right then and paint the walls red with the three men’s blood. He had no just cause to do so. The three men in the room had never made any mistake aside from crossing paths with Danny. He has to resist the urge he feels to hurt these three men. That would come with time, he was sure of it, but for now, they all had a use. If he couldn’t directly hurt somebody, using them was a close second in terms of personal thrill. He snickers quietly as he internally rationalizes that weaselperson would fulfill both of the criteria. He would hurt him. Whatever way he wanted. And he would use him. Whatever way he wanted. After all, that’s all there really was in this life; what Danny wants. He pockets his vape and prepares to enter the dormitory. He begins to get that feeling inside as he knows that by going through that door he was going to turn the lives of the three men inside upside down. He was going to ruin all three of them - they just didn’t know it yet. That sentiment filled Danny with nothing but pure, unadulterated, joy.

---

Inside the office of Thomas Princeton’s warehouse, Scott Brown looks at Danny quizzically.

“I thought there was only Red and Blue Incan kush?”

“There is… for most people. I get the good purp’ stuff, though.”

“Why?”

Danny laughs maniacally.

“Because I get whatever I want. People do whatever I say. Let me demonstrate, pal.”

Danny picks up the plate of cocaine and tips it upside down, the contents spreading all over the table.
“Do it.”

“Another line? I really don’t think I should-”

Danny grabs Scott by the back of the head and forces his face down into the powder.

“I said fuckin’ do it.”

Scott sniffs, a colossal amount of white powder going up his nose and all over his face. He begins coughing but Danny holds his head in place.

“More.”

Scott snorts another pile of cocaine and his breathing becomes erratic. Danny grows louder.

“MORE!!!”

Scott does a small bit more but then clutches at his chest, his heart no doubt racing from the copious amount of cocaine he had consumed in such a short period of time.

“Do it fuckin’ all.”

“B-B-But, I c-c-can’t.”

Danny rips Scott’s head back and stares him directly in the eyes. Scott’s eyes are racing around his skull, darting erratically, and his jaw is clenched as tight as a vice grip. A trickle of blood begins pouring out his left nostril.

“You will do whatever the fuck I say you do.”

Danny shoves Scott’s head into what is left of the cocaine and though Scott is sobbing, he sniffs another huge pile of cocaine.

Then it happens.

Scott’s nose gives way like a beaver dam being penetrated by an unstoppable gush of water and soon the cocaine on the table is drenched a crimson color. Scott’s eyes roll into the back of his head and Danny lets go, Scott’s face smashing into the table as he slumps forward. He spasms about on the table as Danny watches. After half a minute the spasms stop. Scott stops. Completely. Danny phlegmatically fishes Scott’s phone out of his pocket and using Scott’s limp hand, unlocks the phone. He opens the email he had just sent to Shake Meltzer and hits reply. He begins typing a second, follow-up message.

=======================
TO: shakemeltzer@pwoutsider.com
FROM: scottbrown@pwoutsider.com
RE: Resignation
=======================
Dear Mr. Meltzer,

In addition to the above message detailing my decision to not publish a report on Danny Toner, I would also like you to be made aware of my decision to cease working for you and your operation. I am tendering my resignation, effective immediately. This is not something I am willing to discuss any further and any attempt at contact will be met with no response.

I am finished.

Yours sincerely,
Scott Brown
=======================

Danny waits until he hears the sound effect that plays when an email is successfully sent, and then places the phone face down on the blood-drenched cocaine beside the motionless Scott. He stoops down and reaches under the table pulling out a black duffel bag. He unzips it and pulls an unseen object out from within. Danny turns and slides open the door to an oak cabinet and looks at what is displayed inside.

There is a row of beautifully crafted, granite, faceless busts - most adorned with decoration - displayed akin to a sports team’s trophy cabinet. One bares the mask of Alyster Black, and to its immediate right is a bust donning a familiar-looking top hat. Another bares the Crown of Thorns atop it, while another still bares a simple tiara with the feather of a peacock attached to it. Danny lingers for a moment, looking at one particular bust, a bust clad in the mask of Donny Toner. He gently brushes his fingers against it, barely touching it. He pulls himself away from the bust and diverts his attention to one of the few that have yet to be decorated. He plops the object he took from the duffel bag onto this one and takes a step back to admiringly look at the mask of weaselperson.

Dany sits back down on the old, battered couch without so much as a glance at the unmoving body strewn on the table, and throws his head back, a guttural roar of ecstasy escaping his lips.

The feeling burns inside of Danny.

​

​

 

[Sully]

Night of 1000 Frights

​

Click HERE for the link to the Trixie, Blair, and Celestia promo

Spoiler: Plain Text version

Night of 1000 Frights









PROLOGUE




“She’s somehow even more annoying when she’s asleep.” Blair says as she watches Trixie sleep, looking as though she wishes that she were anywhere else but here.

Here. Where is here? Well, here…right now, at least, is a cozy little hotel room in Austin, Texas. It’s a basic little room, consisting of merely a bed, a 32” TV, a bedside table with a lamp atop it, and a little room for showering, shitting, and pissing etc. The light from the bedside lamp gives us some semblance of vision, allowing us to see the three individuals that currently occupy the room. Standing, next to the bed, Blair and Celestia Ravenwood of The Coven. Beneath the blanket, sound asleep and probably dreaming, lies Bellatrix Bordeaux.

The two sisters stare creepily at the sleeping young woman as she snores, creating such a racket that the sisters wonder if anyone else in the hotel, or the entire city of Austin for that matter, is able to sleep as soundly as Trixie.

“I mean, she’s not THAT loud. I’ve had to put up with louder than this.” Celestia responds, glancing at her sister with a cheeky smirk.

“I. Don’t. Snore.” Blair says moodily, sounding as though she’s had this discussion several thousand times over the span of her life.

As Blair stares at the unconscious Trixie, she makes a decision.

“Yeah, I’m not doing this. Let’s get out of here.”

As Blair turns to exit the room, Celestia grabs her by the wrist, halting her escape.

“Kleio’s orders.” Celestia says a matter of factly.

“But sis, look at her!” She says, pointing angrily at the still snoring Trixie with her free hand. “I don’t want to spend my night babysitting this waste of oxygen!”

Celestia chuckles, amazed at Blair’s frustration as she continues her rant.

“Why does the all powerful and wise Kleio de Santos need this overgrown rodent anyway?” Blair says, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice upon uttering Kleio’s name.

Celestia shrugs.

“Dunno. All I do know is that Kleio wants us to gain Trixie’s trust and help her overcome some shit, and so that’s what we’re gonna do. It’ll be a couple hours max.”

Blair sighs heavily, before reluctantly nodding. Celestia smirks as she lets go of her sister’s wrist and they turn back towards Trixie.

“Let’s just get this over with, then.” Blair says, reaching out with her hand and shaking Trixie, trying to wake her up.

Despite Blair violently shaking her to the point of possibly giving her whiplash, Trixie doesn’t wake up. Rolling her eyes impatiently, Blair shakes Trixie even more aggressively.

“Wake up, you nitwit!”

With an angry witch shouting at the top of her lungs while violently shaking the young woman into possible brain damage, Trixie finally begins to stir. Seeing this, Blair ceases to shake Trixie, taking a step back as Trixie rolls over to face her visitors, groaning sleepily.

“Whatchu want, Bret?” Trixie asks while rubbing her eyes.

As Trixie’s eyes open with great difficulty and slowly comes into focus…well…

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Trixie screams in Terror as she catches a glimpse of two sinister-looking women staring down at her.

In a moment of sheer instinct, Trixie thrusts her arms and legs towards the witches, launching her blanket at them. The witch siblings flinch in surprise more than anything, as the blanket flies towards them, draping over their heads and blocking their vision!

As the pair struggle to escape their cotton prison, they hear a thunderous “WRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”, which is swiftly followed by a thudding impact, as Trixie dives off of the bed and crossbodies the intruders!

“GET THE HELL OFF ME!” Blair screams furious as Trixie rains down upon them with a barrage of hammerfists!

“DIE, EVIL KIDNAPPERS!” Trixie screams, doing her utmost to help the intruders achieve her request.

“TRIXIE, STOP!” Celestia cries out, her voice muffled slightly due to having a face full of blanket, “KLEIO SENT US!”

Hearing the kidnapper invoke her good friend Kleio’s name, Trixie halts the battering, but remains utop them, ensuring that they don’t escape.

“And why would Kleio send kidnappers after me, huh?!” Trixie asks, sounding unconvinced.

“We’re not kidnappers, you idiot.” Blair blurts out, frustratedly, “we’r-”

“I’M NOT AN IDIOT!” Trixie exclaims, throwing and landing another hard hammerfist onto the bundle of humanity and blanket beneath her.

“OW!” Celestia cries out in pain, “Whatchu hit me for?!”

“Because you called me an “idiot”!”

“That wasn’t me! It was BLAIR!”

“Oh yeah? Wel-...” As Trixie raises her fist, ready to unload another viscous hammerfist, she pauses, coming to a sudden realisation, “wait…oh no…”

Trixie scrambles off of the mound of bodies and cotton and pulls the blanket off of the people underneath…a sea of shock and sorrow rushes over her as Blair and Celestia Ravenwood are unveiled like a prize at a gameshow.

They do not look impressed.

“Oh my god, I’M SO SORRY!” Trixie yelps, a look of sheer panic etched on her face as she realises what she’d done. “I-I-I thought you were evil kidnappers, I swear!”

Climbing menacingly to her feet, Blair says, “Oh you will be sorry, you litt-” before she is kept from beating the snot out of the dotty young woman by Celestia, who steps between Blair and Trixie and blocks her sister’s advance.

“Oh, it’s alright, Trixie!” Celestia says, forcing a smile and putting on a cheerful demeanor, “It was our fault really. If I saw two badass women standing over me as I was sleeping, I would’ve done the same…probably wouldn’t have done it as good as you, though. Say, those were some killer moves, Trix! Have you been training!?”

Despite Celestia sounding as though she’s trying way too hard to be nice, the panic fades from Trixie’s demeanor as she smiles excitedly at Celestia’s compliment.

“Hehe, yeah. Bret’s been teaching me something called Crafts McGrah…he told me to “only use the techniques in life or death situations”.” Trixie says, mimiking her brother’s voice and mannerisms as she quotes him.


“Yeah? Well how about you try them in this life or death sitution, you fu-” Blair says, still wanting revenge for the embarrassing ass-kicking that she’d just recieved.

Once again, however, Celestia holds her back.

“So, whatchu guys doing here anyway?” Trixie asks, apparently completely oblivious to Blair’s burning desire to kick her face in.

“Well,” Celestia responds, discreetly elbowing Blair in the stomach as an indication for her to stop trying to kill Trixie, “we figured that, since it’s a lovely evening, and what with us teaming up on the next Fallout show and all…we thought we’d ask if you wanted to come for a night out with us! Ya know, have some fun…get to know each other a little better…but, if you’d rather not, then-”

“Wait, you guys really wanna hang out with me!?” Trixie asks, looking completely taken aback that someone actually wants to spend time with her.

Blair opens her mouth to respond, no doubt with something mean-spirited and hurtful, but is completely cut off by Celestia.

“Sure we do…unless you’ve got other plans? I’m sure you’ve got loads of people hitting you up to go to parties and stuff all the time, so if you’re busy, then we can go another time-”

“NO!!” Trixie shouts in panic, before trying to play it cool and not sound needy and desperate, “I-I mean, I’ve got n-nothing else going on…so, where we goin’?” She asks excitedly.

“Well, we were thinking, maybe…the carnival?”

Trixie’s excitement sinks slightly, but she quickly tries to hide her disappointment.

“Oh, uh, sure…sounds like fun!”

“GREAT! Oh, we’re going to have so much fun, right sis?” Celestia asks, looking at her sister with a shit-eating grin as Blair groans in despair at the thought of having to spend any amount of time with Trixie. “That’s Blair’s excited face…shall we go, then?!”

Trixie glances down and notices that she’s still in her pajamas, which consists of a black Scooby Doo “Hex Girls” tank top, and black pajama shorts.

“Okay, lemme get chang-”

“GREAT!” Celestia exclaimed excitedly, before snapping her fingers, causing a bright flash to engulf the room and everything and everyone inside it. After a moment, the light dissapates, and the three young women that had inhabitted it mere moments ago have dissapeared without a trace.


ACT 1 - Carny Wrestling




Initially, Trixie was quite shocked when, in a matter of seconds, she went from her cozy little hotel room in Austin, to appearing from out of nowhere in a creepy looking carnival, surrounded by trees and a starry sky above, but after Celestia had explained that she and her sister were witches and had magic powers, all became clear in Trixie’s mind and she could focus on the task at hand…

…FUN!

Trixie and her new friends, but mostly Trixie, frolic around the carnival, trying out any and every ride and game that they come across. Despite still being in her bedwear, and likely shredding the soles of her feet as she skips merrily across the stick and stone infested ground, she looks as though she’s having a blast…the Ravenwood sisters, not so much.

“When do we get to go home?” Blair asks impatiently, rubbing her head as if trying to massage her brain.

“Oh, we ain’t even started yet, sis…” Celestia says with a shit-eating grin, relishing in Blair’s suffering, “we’ve got a long old night ahead of us.”

Blair’s eyes widen as she glares at her sister.

“B-But, you told me that we’d only be a couple hours MAX!” Blair recounts furiously, looking as though she’d been slapped clean across the face.

“Hehehe, and you believed me…” Celestia shakes her head, feigning disappointment towards her sister, “and here I thought that Trixie was the gullible one.”

Blair’s breathing escalates as she contemplates whether or not to rip her sister’s head off. Before she could make a decision, however, she’s interrupted by a hideous screeching sound…

“GUYS, LOOK!” Trixie calls to her friends, trying to grab their attention. “This guy’s doing our job!”

The sister’s heads follows the direction of Trixie’s pointing finger, and sees a familiar sight…a professional wrestling ring. A professional wrestling ring, which is wrapped inside of a steel cage. A crowd of around 20 to 30 bloodthirsty fans have gathered around the ring to watch the carnage being waged within. The last time that all three women saw something similar to this was during the King of the Deathmatch Tournament…a fact that, Trixie in particular, remembers with great displeasure, as her expression flips on a dime from excited to horrified as she watches a scrawny young man being pulverised by someone far larger than him. Someone who looks as though he’s seen his fair share of wars. Someone that Trixie recognises, but who’s name escapes her.

“That all you got, boy!?” The violent man shouts, a sickening grin on his face as he pulls his near lifeless victim to his feet by his hair. The man is wearing a tattered white tanktop that’s splattered with blood, and a pair of ratted jeans.

“Hey, that man sort of looks like Jason Ra-” Trixie says before being cut off. “Silence Tricie, enjoy the show” snaps back Blair.


Blair and Celestia reaches Trixie’s position, a few feet away from the caged-off ring, with an excellent view as the violent man kicks his near uinconcious victim in the gut, before driving the young man’s jaw into his shoulder with a Stunner!

The gathered crowd cheers and applauded at this maneuver, as though it were a signature catchphrase on a sitcom, before counting along with the referee as he slams his hand on the blood-soaked canvas.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!

And the bell rings, declaring the larger man the victor! As Trixie watches on in horror as the unconscious carcass of the scrawny young man is dragged unceremoniously through the cage door and carried away to god knows where, Blair and Celestia slow clap politely as the victorious man grabs a microphone.

“C’MON, is that it?! I come here looking for a challenge, and that little fucker is the only one with the balls to step up? Gutless, the lot of you!”

The crowd boo at the insults being thrown at them, but none of them make a move to enter the cage.

“Fucking pussies! Y’all are nothin’ but gigantic, gaping pussies!...”

The audience boos the man as he man continues to shout profanities, daring one of them to shut him up. Eventually he gets bored, and heads outside of the ring and through the makeshift guerilla position. Blair and Celestia stare at each other, with Celestia sporting a smirk.

“And this, dear sister, is where our main objective begins.” Celestia says, before approaching Trixie from behind… “Hey, Trixie?!”

“Huh?” Trixie turns to face Celestia,

Suddenly, Trixie finds herself being pushed into the ring with the Jason Randall lookalike. The crowd goes nuts as Trixie is stuck in this cage with this bloody monster. Foam is coming from his mouth like a rabid dog.

“Come on Trixie! Kick his ass!” shouts Blair.

Celestia joins in “Yeah Trixie, make him cry!”. Both sisters knowing very well that Trixie is about to get ripped to shreds.

Trixie however looks absolutely terrified. She’s literally shaking and quivering as the Randall wannabe comes storming towards her. He grabs a piece of broken glass and comes running at her like a maniac!

Trixie, in tears, just barely ducks out of the way.

She then wastes no time as she finds an opening in the cage and slides her way out. Gasping for breath as she hits the cement below. The crowd boos, and begins to chant “COWARD! COWARD! COWARD!”.

Celestia helps a terrified Trixie to her, as Blair shakes her head with disappointment.

The Randall wannabe is back to taunting in the ring.

“What a little baby! Is there anyone with any balls who wants to fight me for real?” he says.

Blair looks at Trixie and Celestia with a look, and then back to the ring. “Yeah, I will you asshole!” she yells before confidently stepping into the ring. The Randall wannabe chuckles at first, but then starts to look concerned as Blair begins stomping towards him.

He takes a quick swing at Blair, but she blocks it. She then does a leg sweep, and puts the Randall wannabe on the ground. Soon after, she’s on top of him for a ground and pound. She’s pounding away, as now the blood on the carny wrestler’s tank top is his own.

Soon after she has him in an arm bar, and soon after that he is tapping on the mat. Blair stands up with a smile as the crowd goes nuts. She confidently steps out of the ring, as Trixie looks at her in admiration.

“Wow! How did you do that!?” Trixie asks Blair. Blair looks at her annoyed. “How didn’t you do that?”

Trixie doesn’t have an answer as Blair continues to rant.

“You can’t keep getting in the ring, and being too afraid of getting hit Trixie. You’re going to get hit. It’s going to hurt. And yeah, maybe you’re going to lose. But if you are scared of wimps like Jason Randall, or that Carny Jason Randall, then you’re never going to make it at all in the FWA. Those guys? They’re posers. The whole hardcore tough guy thing is an act. The Carny, Jason Randall..they’re all the same. Nobody is that tough. But, there are a lot of wrestlers in the FWA who aren’t posers. And eventually you’re going to have to learn not to be afraid of them either. You gotta look past whatever gimmick or character they’re trying to be to distract you. Take the fear factor away…and see them like we see them.

The ladies of The Coven? We don’t see hardcore carny wrestler. We don’t see a dancing machine, or a techno vampire, or anything else. We see a meat bag. A target who we’re going to pin to the ground.

Stop being afraid of a target.

Make them afraid of you.”

And with that, Blair stomps away from Trixie. Leaving the scared young girl to contemplate what she says.

Celestia catches up to Blair and whispers to her. “Sister, I’m confused…I thought the idea was to let Trixie get beaten so bad she’d be scared to ever wrestle again. Why did you save her?” she asks Blair.

“I don’t know” Blair responds. “I felt bad for a second…I won’t make that mistake again. Let’s stick to what we set out to do. Scare Trixie so bad that she wants nothing to do with us, then Kleio won’t have any other options when it comes to trying to replace us”.

Trixie yells back from the distance “Hey wait for me!” as the three ladies move onto the next section of the spooky carnival.

ACT 2 - The Magician



Soon the trio find themselves in front of a mysterious circus tent with fog all around it. Trixie looks frightened at the sight, but Blair and Celestia look at the tent with awe.

“Let’s go inside!” Celestia says.

“Oh I don’t know” says Trixie cautiously. She then looks over at Blair, who is staring daggers at her following that speech/rant she just gave at the carny wrestling ring.

“Ok fine! Fine! I guess we can maybe poke our heads in!” Trixie says reluctantly.

“Cool let’s go!” says Blair as she is now pushing Trixie into the tent.

Inside the tent is a grand stage, and a bunch of seats for an audience. And on the stage is none other than a man dressed like a magician. And with him is a beautiful blonde assistant, with tattoos on her arms.

“See, look at that Trixie…it’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a magia-” says Celestia before the Magacian pulls a rabbit out of his hat…a headless rabbit.

“AHH!” yells Trixie.

“Ok, so maybe it’s a little spooky. But remember, you’re going to be brave, right Trixie?” Says Blair. Trixie responds, not so confidently “Uh, yeah…totally. Totally going to be brave. I got this”.

Suddenly, Trixie looks at the magician onstage. She realizes something.

The magician looks an awful lot like…

“OH MY GOD IT’S MY FRIEND XYZ!” Trixie shouts. Everyone on stage and in the audience looks at the trio. Blair whispers to Trixie “That is not XYZ. It just looks like him I guess…I don’t know, I guess all goofy weirdo magician dudes look alike or something. Relax though, it’s not him”.

Trixie nods her head to shut up Blair, but she totally knows XYZ when she sees him, and that is XYZ.

The three of them sit down as the goofy magician is about to do his next trick. He wheels out a box, with two swords on top as the audience gasps. The XYZ doppleganger then opens the box, and gets inside as the audience gasps.

Trixie gasps the loudest, as she shouts out “NO! XYZ…DON’T DO IT! IT’S TOO DANGEROUS!”.

Suddenly, the assitant thrusts a sword into the box. Tears begin to fill Trixie’s eyes as she can hardly stand to watch. The assistant then takes the second sword, as pushes it through the box as well. Suddenly, blood begins to pour all out of the box.

Trixie cannot take it any longer. She jumps up, and runs up to the stage. Blair tries to grab her arm and stop her, but she’s just a second too late.

Trixie gets to the stage and pushes the assistant aside, as she begins to pry open the box. But when she gets it open, there is nothing inside.

She looks shocked and concerned.

“XYZ? Where did you go XYZ! I will save you!”.

Suddenly, Blair and Celestia are both looking on disappointedly behind her on the stage. Blair looks at her sister “Do you want to take this one?” she says. Celestia gives a reluctant nod as she walks up to Trixie.

“I had to save him…” Trixie says to Blair, trying to defend her actions.

“No, you didn’t. Because first of all, he wasn’t XYZ. He was a magician, doing an act. You again got too scared to handle yourself” Celestia tells her.

Trixie tries to defend herself. “No, this wasn’t like the Jason Randall looking guy…I swear…I wasn’t scared like that, I just thought that XYZ…” Celestia then cuts her off.

“Exactly. You were afraid that XYZ was hurt. Your need to keep him and everyone around you safe is what is holding you back. Do you know how on the airplane, they always tell you that you need to put on your own mask before helping others? Do you know why they do that? It’s because if you don’t put on your mask first, you could pass out. And then you won’t be able to help anyone at all. It sounds like selfishness, but it’s not…you have to put yourself first.”

Trixie looks at Celestia confused.

“But…The Coven…don’t you guys want to protect one another?” Trixie asks.

Celesetia responds “We in The Coven do protect each other…by keeping each other strong. And key word there…EACH OTHER. You have to realize who your friends are. How many times now have you and XYZ been on the same side, and how many times have you been against one another? I can tell you the later is probably more than the former…isn’t it?”

Trixie doesn’t respond.

Blair chimes in “Quit being afraid Trixie. We have one more stop to go…”

Celestia pushes a speechless Trixie away as the trio head on to the last part of the carnival.



ACT 3 - The Dunk Tank



As the trio are walking through the spooky carnival, they hear some shouting in the distance. Trixie doesn’t want to investigate, but of course Blair and Celestia push her along anyway.

Soon the three girls find themselves in front of a giant dunk tank. It’s a huge pool filled with sharks and piranhas, and above it is a clown in a cage.

If you buy a ball, you can knock the cage down and send the clown into the deadly water.

“Ooh, I love these” Blair says in a sinister tone.

Trixie looks concerned fo the clown, who she’s now realizing looks an awful lot like Death Walker. He’s even wearing a spooky skeleton mask.

Blair buys a ball and throws at the giant red target to try and knock the Death Walker clown into the water.

Sadly, she missed.

“HA! You loser! You throw like a girl” the clown taunts.

Blair gets mad. Celestia then buys a ball, and throws it at the clown. She also misses.

“Wow! You guys suck!” the clown says.

Blair is fuming.

“How dare you? What have you even done to gloat like that? Huh? You’ve accomplished nothing. You sit there with your ego thinking you’re so tough and so bad, but meanwhile you haven’t done shit!”

Celestia chuckles and joins in. “Yeah, and that skeleton mask? It looks stupid! You realize that Halloween is over right?”

The clown doesn’t waste any time snapping back “Oh, says the girls who are running around pretending like they’re witches? Sure!”

Blair turns to Trixie and hands her a ball. “Throw it at this idiot” she says.

But yet again, Trixie is afraid. “I…if I hit the target, he might get hurt”. She says. Yet again Blair is annoyed with Trixie’s fears.

“So you’re too afraid that you might lose, you’re too afraid that you might lose your friends, and now you’re too afraid to hurt others? How are you even a wrestler? You realize that like all of the traits that make a successful wrestler…they all don’t exist for you…because YOU ARE TOO SCARED”.

Trixie is sad at Blair’s words. They cut deep.

And what makes it worse is the clown joins in. “SCAREDY CAT! SCAREDY CAT! TRIXIE IS A SCAREDY CAT!”.

Blair and Celestia also chant.

“SCAREDY CAT!”

“SCAREDY CAT!”

The clown continues “Come on Scaredy Cat. I’m just a stupid clown with a stupid skeleton mask You can hit that target and drop me in the water, and not a single person would be upset about it. I could get devoured by sharks, and in a few months nobody would care. They’d go…Oh hey remember that clown who ran around with a skeleton mask acting spooky and saying stupid things? What happened to him? Oh yeah he got eaten by sharks. NOBODY WOULD CARE. And yet it won’t matter because you are a SCAREDY CAT. SCAREDY CAT!”

Suddenly, Trixie closes her eyes.

“I AM NOT A SCAREDY CAT!” she yells.

She stops thinking, and she throws the ball in a rage blindly through the air.

And it strikes the red target.

The floor of the cage drops, and the Death Walker Clown screams as he’s dropped into the water. The sharks and piranhas waste no time feasting on him. Soon, all that is left is a skeleton mask that floats to the top”.

Blair and Celestia look on in shock.

“Wow…that was…savage” Blair says.

Trixie looks at them both coldy before storming off out of the fair.


Epilogue

Blair and Celestia try to keep up with Trixie’s speed as she makes it into the gravel parking lot. Soon enough they finally catch up to her.

“Trixie wait!” says Blair.

Trixie finally stops and turns around. She is shaking. It appears as if she is so scared that she can barely stand. Maybe seeing a clown getting eaten alive was a bit frightening?

“We’re sorry Trixie…maybe things went too far tonight” confesses Celestia.

Blair and Celestia look at Trixie…who looks like she is about to explode in freight. Did Blair and Celestia’s plan work? Did they scare Trixie so hard that she will run far away from the Coven, and maybe the FWA all together?

As Trixie is standing there shaking, it certainly looks as though that might be true.

When suddenly she hugs them both, and yells out in glee.

“ARE YOU KIDDING? I had so much fun tonight! This was such a great carnival. I can’t believe it…the carny guy, the magician, oh and that clown! Did you see the shark bite his head off? WOW! THAT WAS AMAZING!

You guys are awesome. I was so scared tonight, but you taught me that I don’t have to be. I think the reason why I was so scared is because, often times, I really felt like I was all alone. Sure I had my friends like XYZ and Lizzie Rose, but I was still…alone.
But what I realize tonight is that I am not alone. This whole time I was scared, you two were right there behind me, pushing me through it.

I get what you were saying. I have no reason to be scared, because The Coven…we’re a united front! Together, we are unstoppable! I am unstoppable!”

Blair and Celestia are standing there shocked and confused.

“THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN GUYS! I’ll see you at the show. Thanks again!” Trixie says and she cluelessly skips away.

Blair and Celestia are left standing there bewildered.

Blair waits until Trixie is long out of sight, before finally turning to her sister and saying “What the hell just happened?”.

Celestia shrugs and responds with “I don’t know…she was supposed to be scared. It seems like we only pushed her closer in. There’s no way she quits now.”

“Kleio is going to get exactly what she wants…our replacement” Blair says. Suddenly, Celestia looks at her sister with a moment of realization. “You know, maybe…we have some of our own fears to face. I mean, you have to admit…Trixie did handle her own against that Death Walker Clown guy. Maybe Kleio has a reason for recruiting her beyond just...trying to replace us?”.

Blair thinks about it. Her sister has a point…

“Maybe that is a silly thing to fear. Besides, do we really think Kleio could afford to replace us? She says. Celestia nods and says “Exactly!”.

The two sisters laugh.

And Blair finally comes to a conclusion. “Besides, if we keep Trixie around…maybe…just maybe…we could find a way to use her to our advantage.”.

Celestia gives her sister a sly smile as the two sisters walk away…with the spooky carnival disappearing behind them.

"I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship." --Louisa May Alcott

 

[weaselperson]

weaselperson
vol 4.​

Spoiler: Text

Chapter 1.

Zachary Kazadi - or as he went by publicly now - weaselperson, discovered that his costume was missing. He frowned but had never been prone to sudden bouts of anger. He’d avoided that trait having grown up with some who weren’t so mindful of their raging tendencies. Though in the ring, this self-discipline did happen to collapse here and then, especially in the past when he felt that his sanctuary was being violated.

He tried to recall where he might’ve placed the skin suit, but he was confident that he’d hung it in his closet. He had a particular spot for it there, in the far back, with its own lamp. It could be mistaken for a place of grotesque worship, had it been there. But it wasn’t.

He stepped out of the closet and patiently looked around the room. The windows were locked. The doors had been locked. Perhaps he should’ve invested in security cameras, after all. But it had always seemed a bit excessive. He was mostly a minimalist when it came to possessions so there wasn’t much to rob here, although, perhaps he’d underappreciated the value of the skin suit.

He was certain he hadn’t misplaced it. And although he could find no signs of a breaking and entering, and nothing else absent in his abode, he believed that the only logical explanation for the absence of his costume was that it had been stolen.

He considered who might be responsible.

Katie Baxter. Ordinarily, she doesn’t seem the sort to be brave enough to steal from someone, and neither the sort to have the resources to do it so well. Although, she seemed rather passionate about the former weaselperson, the Jonathan I’d never meet. That could be enough motivation to make her go above and beyond her ordinary means. But, if I’m being honest, I don’t know too much about her. For all I know, this is something she’s capable of. The FWA wrestlers, from what I’ve come to understand, have outlandish hobbies these days, who’s to say the rest of the staff isn’t the same?

Danny Toner should have been the forefront assumption, but Katie’s harassment had left me a little fearful of the interviewer. Danny; however, had a history of costume theft. It wasn’t a particularly unique history. Stealing costumes to mock or surprise a rival, these were traditions of wrestling. Not traditions I was interested in living up to, but this was right up a man like Danny’s alley. You could argue I had stolen weaselperson, but it wasn’t to mock or surprise anyone, and Jonathan was far from a rival to deserve that targeting. In any case, Danny had just been parading around in an Alyster Black costume, and it wasn’t too long he’d been spotted dressed as a Nephew, and attacked by a similarly costumed rival. Only one of these was directly relevant, though this masked assailant was something that remained in the back of my mind. For a rather simple reason: I did not need anyone to sully the victory I intended on obtaining.

The relevant matter though is the parade in the Alyster Black costume. Danny wasn’t the sort of man who’d respect me. He was more likely to find ways to aggravate me and mock me, and the man was a hooligan to begin with, with little care for the law or propriety. Picturing him stealing my skin suit was rather easy. He had the means and the motive. Too easy a guess?

Well, if it is him, what should I do? Find him amidst whatever latest drug bend he’s on? Wait till he makes whatever dramatic move he intends on making, likely on Meltdown. There was nothing to be done. Although, it would leave me in a terribly tough spot if, by Fallout, I hadn’t found a solution.

I have other theories. Wanda may have decided to repossess her lost love if she decided she was ultimately dissatisfied with me. But I suspect if that were the case, she’d have done much worse. Alyster Black? That was wishful thinking. He’d ignored me, entirely. Sure, he had his history, like Danny Toner, of undertaking secret identities for some long con, but Alyster didn’t seem the sort to go down the same well twice.

There were the Nephews, but he’d done his best in ensuring they’d stay out of his business, and he didn’t think they’d reneg on that agreement this soon.

Shawn Summers? We exchanged comments, mine more pointed than his, of course, and this definitely isn’t below him. No, far from not being below him, he’d probably do something gratuitous to bring it down to his standard. But, Summers had other priorities. He could always be playing the long game, but I was willing to rule him out for the moment.

Danny Toner was the obvious suspect. There was nothing to do but to wait and see what would happen.

Chapter 2.

Zachary Kazadi got off his motorcycle as he arrived at the skyscraper’s entrance. A valet appeared, making Zachary briefly tense. He wasn’t used to valet parking but he handed the keys to his ride once he realized the employee’s purpose. He’d dressed in a floral dress shirt, and chino shorts. Not all that fancy for the sort of business he was about to undertake, but he didn’t expect the folks he’d be negotiating with to care much for professional dressing attires. This was a far cry from the sort of agencies he’d dealt with some years ago when he first arrived on the FWA stage, though he still maintained the same reservations and prejudices that had emerged from those miserable past dealings.

These people proclaimed themselves to be more in step with modern trends. He hadn’t decided yet if this was something that was worth praising, or an ensurance that he’d forever stay out of the brand business.

He entered the building and was greeted by the man who’d called him over the phone.

“Oh, you didn’t come in the costume? I thought you were embracing it now. All weaselperson, all the time.”

“In the wrestling ring, I am, but I’d rather not drive around L.A. dressed in that much fur.”

The truth was, I actually had started going around as weaselperson. It felt unbecoming of my distaste for attention (well, outside the attention from my peers), but I somehow felt a bit less self-conscious beneath it, even as I was sweating my balls off. Alas, stolen costume, and with the nature of this meeting, it was better not to confess it was missing.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you man, I’m a huge fan, I want to get your name under our brand, but it’s not gonna be a slam dunk.”

“A slam dunk?” Corny fucker. “You’re saying that not everyone would like me to sign on.”

“They need a little reassurance.”

“I’m not here to do an interview or impress anyone.”

“Just hear them out. You were interested in the money on offer, right? What’s it gonna hurt to just hear them out?”

“I could be getting ready for my next match instead of wasting my time here. They’re getting paid right now, I’m not.”

“Zachary. Weaselperson… I think that you being part of our brand could be my big break, and it could be a chance to establish your legacy.”

“You don’t know what I want my legacy to be.”

“Whoa. I’m a wrestling fan, don’t underestimate me. And I know you’re obsessed with wrestling. weaselperson could be the image of wrestling. Trust me. We can do that.”

Yet, why am I so skeptical?

“Fine, let’s go on. LA traffic is too shit for me to have made it this far just to leave now.”

“Love the enthusiasm, dude. I really do think wearing the costume would’ve been a good idea, though.”

You and I, both.

They entered the room where a woman in a suit with a tablet in front of her, sat side by side with a few more lackadaisical gentleman who beamed when the recruiter enter the room.

“You’re weaselperson?” the woman asked.

“Bark?” he said. Dumb fucking idiot. You look like a piece of shit saying that without the costume.

Her eyes narrowed, confirming his suspicions.

“Nice to meet you, why don’t you take a seat?”

Kazadi sat opposite of the lengthy boardroom table. The man who’d invited him offered to cure his isolation by sitting at his side, though it appeared he was hardly paying attention to either him or the suited woman, instead subtly conversing with the other two insignificants.

“Our brand is interested in taking you on. My colleagues will take care of talking to you about the marketing possibilities we have for you, but before we get to that point, there are some issues we need to consider first.”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me what those issues are.”

She smiled. “You’re unreliable, Mr. Kazadi.”

Yeah, no shit.

“Taking you on now would be a risk, but we suspect we aren’t the only ones who will show interest in what you have to offer. The question is whether you’ll last long enough to receive these offers.” She paused, gauging Kazadi’s expression, but he remained stoic. “We’re willing to not only jump ahead of the pack, but to also offer you something we feel is more generous than anything you’d be likely to get elsewhere.”

He said nothing, though what he wanted to say is Please stop wasting my fucking time, and tell me what’s the catch. He knew she would get to that eventually, and decided not to delay it by replying.

“In exchange, we believe that you should be willing to make a few concessions. Firstly, we would like to be able to physically and digitally replicate the weaselperson costume, as I understand it, it’s currently a one-of-a-kind copy?”

“Is that all?”

“All?”

“The concessions.”

“No. I did say firstly, didn’t I? I’ll go on. We would also like to have ownership rights to the weaselperson title should there be a situation where you are unable or… unworthy of carrying on the title. For example, a severe injury, a lost mask - I understand this is a severe risk in professional wrestling, and that you yourself, are prone to waging your possessions -, a sudden disappearance, a scandal, or termination whether employer or employee initiated. That would be all.”

“I think I’ve seen enough people getting screwed with deals like that to know I’d be an idiot to say yes.”

He begins to stand up, but the recruited throws his arms up.

“Wait, wait, wait. Don’t close the door on this yet. Look, we love you Zachary. We think weaselperson could be huge. Action figures, toys, a movie series, a television show, comic books, cartoons, the costume itself. You can make sure that your kids, your kids’ kids, your kids’ kids’ kids never have to work a day in their life.” I didn’t intend on having kids. “I, for one, don’t think you’ll end up bailing. I think you’re here for real this time, and you’re going to accomplish everything you’re promising to accomplish, which is why for me, this concession, it’s irrelevant. It’ll never come into play.”

Zachary stood up.

“Are you rejecting the offer?” the woman asked.

Kazadi gazed at the pleading eyes of the man next to him, then at the cold gaze of the suited woman. “I’ll think it over,” he said, and left the room.

Chapter 3.

The man chased him out of the room, though Kazadi did not look his way.

“I know the deal sounds sketchy-”

“I’d genuinely be an idiot to accept it. That’s the sort of deal that blows up in your face, no matter how good my intentions are to be the reliable man you’d like me to be.”

“But the money…”

“I’m not a sellout.”

“Exactly! What even matters if the worst did come to pass. We’re not stealing your ability to wrestle! That’s what you care most about at the end of the day, isn’t it? I want you to be at the top of the world as weaselperson, but what’s it matter to you if it’s weaselperson or Zachary Kazadi that sits at the top, right? You’ll try to be there either way. Sign this deal, and you never have to worry about thinking about anything but wrestling ever again. Money, fame, it’ll make your job a lot easier.”

Kazadi glanced at the man but said nothing.

“I don’t want to put the pressure on you, but the reason why we’re trying to get ahead is that we’re narrowing down on who we want to be the face of our brand going forward. And right now, there’s one person who’s at the head of that race, but you represent an alternative a lot of us think could be better.”

He stopped now. “So I’m competing for a spot here. Did you give the other guy an offer like you gave me.”

“Well, we did do it, once.” The man gazed up at a statue of the Chessmaster, the face of the brand.

“This is who I’m competing with?”

“He used to be a bit like you, actually, he’s still kinda like you, but you know, he delivered. We gave him the same contract because we didn’t trust him. But he signed it, he got the money, and he not only lived up to what we needed out of him, he excelled. We’re thinking of renewing him with a new contract, but honestly, we’re sort of afraid that maybe he’s not got it anymore, the hunger I mean, to keep growing.”

“You think you’ve gotten all you can out of him, and now you wanna get all you can out of me.”

“Not just that! I told you, the thing we like about you is that you’re determined. We’re looking long term here and you have got long term in your mind because you’re passionate about this. You’re not the type to get satisfied, right? You’ll keep pushing yourself. That’s what we want. But, at the end of the day, he’s still got a better track record than you. If we’re looking on paper, and not what I see when I look into your eyes, but simply on paper, you gotta admit, you’re a liability.”

Kazadi snorted. The man realized maybe that the last line wasn’t the right one.

“You guys might be in a rush, but I’m not. I’ll think about it, and if it’s out of my hands, then it’s out of my hands. I’ve gotta go train. You’ve got my number if I’m out of the running, and I’ve got your number if I have the sort of epiphany you’re wishing I’d have. That work?”

“I… I guess.”

“Good.”

Chapter 4.

Zachary Kazadi returned home and was surprised to find Wanda inside.

“How’d you get in?”

“I have my ways. I did tell you that if you rejected weaselperson, I’d ruin you, didn’t I? Did you think was simply a bluff.”

She’d made herself awfully comfortable. She brought her own tea set and was sipping from a cup. At least I don’t have to treat her.

“I have a problem.”

“Only one?”

“Only one worth your attention. weaselperson is missing.”

“You’re right in front of me.”

“The suit, I mean.”

“Oh, that. I simply had it treated.”

“You know I do wash it, right?”

“I respect that you are making a modicum of effort in maintaining the quality, but I don’t trust you to take every precaution the way I would.”

He shrugs. So, be it.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“I wanted to congratulate you on your victory.”

“Is it worth congratulating me? An impressive victory, sure, but when it comes to what you want me to achieve as weaselperson, it’ll only be a footnote in the end.”

“That’s correct. I didn’t come here simply to congratulate you, or to return your suit, I wanted to address the matter of your upcoming match.”

“You didn’t need to consult me about Cyrus Truth, why Danny Toner.”

“I’ve decided to show greater interest in the going-ons of the FWA, to better ensure you’re meeting a consistent standard.”

“I guess I’m glad you didn’t do your research before I had my match with Truth.”

“I’ll defer to you, since you’re the expert… who is more dangerous: Cyrus Truth or Danny Toner?”

“Danny Toner.”

“He doesn’t seem like he is, on the surface.”

“A long time ago, when I used to face Danny Toner, I didn’t think much of him. I honestly thought he was nothing more than an emotional thug who’d lucked his way into a wrestling career. I thought he was probably a coward deep inside. I mean, my thoughts on his value as a person, that hasn’t changed. He’s a scummy human being. Selfish. Without value. But that works to his benefit, ultimately.”

“And what about his talent. I understand he may not be the most versatile or skilled wrestler.”

“Yeah, I used to think that, too. Then I realized it was a load of bullshit. People like Danny, instinctive types who rely more on intuition than encyclopedic knowledge of wrestling moves, they get dismissed easily, and it always comes back to bite people in the back. Danny’s a fighter. Whatever cover story people are trying to pull about him being not all that good, it’s bullshit. The fans eat into his palm, whichever he likes it. It pushes him when he’s in the ring. He’s gone toe to toe with almost every big name in this company for the past 8 years. His name’s been stained, but it doesn’t refute the fact that every time Danny’s been around, he’s been in the spotlight, and in his greatest disappointments, he finds himself flanked with fights for world title opportunities, and world tag title reigns. His crowning last year, it was inevitable. And, as far as anyone should be concerned, Chris Peacock isn’t the World Champion, it’s Danny Toner.”

“Then it’s fortunate you’re facing Danny this week, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

Wanda is caught off guard by that answer. The hesitation, and the uncertainty.

“Are you concerned you’ll lose?”

Kazadi frowns. “It’s a possibility. He’s the uncrowned champion. I may have made Cyrus Truth tap out, but it’s been almost five years since Cyrus Truth was a World Champion. Danny Toner is… a killer. He’s said it himself, and he’s right. He’s positioned himself above the biggest gold there is. That’s something I’d tried to do once, and failed pathetically. I’m not certain I’ll win. I’ve always been a staunch believer in my style. Calculated, intelligent, cerebral. And I used to believe that guys like Danny didn’t really stand a chance against me. Neutralize his knee, bend and tweak it. I thought a guy like Danny would be easy to take down. But that was just a demonstration of my own inexperience. He’s not easy to take down. He’s the sort of man whom, if the mood is just right, if the crowd is cheering his downfall enough, or chanting his fucking name over and over again, he’ll ignore all the pain. He’ll dig past every bit of targetted offense and limb work you’ve done on him, and he’s liable to knock you out with a knee. And then the bell will ring, and he’ll drop. He won’t know where it came from. His body just moved automatically. And it sealed it for him. A guy like Danny, there’s no way to be sure.”

“He can’t have been the first person you’ve faced like this.”

“Ha. No. My uncle was like that too. I faced lots of people like that. But Danny isn’t your average guy. He excels at what he does. He can fuck off for a whole year, not have lifted a single dumbbell, not have watched a single match, not have ran a single rope, and he’d be wrestling like he never missed a beat. Guys like me, there might be a bit of rust. A bit of the hands remember where to position themselves in a tarantula. But Danny is riding on adrenaline, feels, and whatever garbage he stuck into himself, and somehow, that’s always enough.”

“Stop it. I did not bring this topic up simply to hear you praise him and frontload excuses as to why you would lose. If you know how dangerous he is, then you’ll find a weakness. That’s your specialty, isn’t it? The benefit of your expertise.”

“It’s… not as simple as that.”

Wanda stood up. “You’ve ruined my appetite. I’m not sure what you need to do, to regain your confidence. Wear the suit of the one who made Cyrus Truth tap out, if that’s what it takes, but figure it out. You have an opportunity you would have craved for if it hadn’t been given to you, so I don’t want to see you cowering now that it’s in front of you. Do not… disappoint me.”

What a demanding woman.

“There’s something else.”

“That offer to monetize weaselperson? I’ve gone ahead and turned it down.”

“Hmph. I figured you would.”

“And I would advise you to avoid taking any of these meetings without my being present.”

“You can take them all on your own, if you’d like. It’s not my environment.”

“Very well.”

Chapter 5.

You wear the weaselperson costume, walking outside at night. You know how bizarre it is to do it. If you’d seen a man walking around dressed like that, you’d be inclined to cross the street, or if you had a trigger finger, call the pigs.

You’re not sure why you’ve done it, why you’ve been doing it. But you feel like you’re closing in on the answer. Is it possible that a new identity can chane a person that much. You believed that becoming weaselperson was largely an irrelevant note. A different name, and a different look, but it didn’t change who you were. A technical mastermind. A submission specialist. A wrestling zealot. Nothing would change that.

But you were starting to wonder if things had changed. If being weaselperson had altered you at your very core. You, oddly enough, began to doubt your own abilities. You’d failed to establish yourself, so long ago. You’d had impressive victories, but tapping out Cyrus Truth, irregardless of how you feel about him now, that’s not anywhere close to what you were doing 7 years ago, or even 3 years ago. 3 years ago you were tapping out to Devin Golden. 3 years ago, you shouted that you quit to Devin Golden.

Was it Zachary Kazadi or weaselperson that had made Cyrus Truth tap out. The record books would say weaselperson. You said you hadn’t cared. That the name on the sheets were irrelevant to you, only that you accomplished your goals. And already, the first success, and you begin to question whether you want to even maintain the name of weaselperson. The truth is, most people would very well be if you stopped this charade. Throw away the suit. Embrace the old you.

All you’ve done is give your opponents reasons to berate you.

Roadkill, you heard.

Ignored, you’ve been.

Shouldn’t you just discard the suit. Damned be Wanda’s desires?

You won’t. You won’t throw it away. You want to believe the reason you won’t do it is because you want to stand by your pledge. You’ve always been a man of your word, well, up until you went back on your quitting of the FWA. But that’s not what’s keeping you from throwing the suit away. There is now going to be a cloud hanging over your head forevermore. Will I go back to my past struggles if I remove the suit. Am I dooming myself by doubting the suit. Why the hell am I giving so much power to the suit?!

You want to know whether your success depends on it, or whether you’d be just as good with or without it.

You’re supposed to find a weakness in Danny Toner. Could the suit be the key? Are you that afraid of him, that you need to rely on it? It used to be, you wouldn’t have thought twice about the difference in skills, but how the years have changed you.

You stop in the middle of the street, and notice a couple walking by. They spot you after many seconds of blatant staring, and feeling creeped out, they hurry off away. Why did you stare? Stop being so creepy. All bug-eyed and shit.

The truth is, you did feel different being weaselperson. A placebo effect, maybe? But you felt like… the way you fought changed. On the surface, it wouldn’t look that way. You were still a man who had a submission for every situation and would apply it. But, were you somehow becoming more instinctive in your reactions? Beating someone like Danny Toner, whose passion drove him, even if it was poisoned passion, required adapting on the fly.

You stopped on your walk once again, staring into a chicken coop. You’d heard it said that weasels were rather savage killers. They would take out an entire coop, more than the amount of chickens necessary to be filled at that moment, and stash the rest to be eaten later. Weasels were fascinating creatures, you knew. Clever, dangerous, and savage. And you’d like to imagine that those were the very traits you were adopting-

Kazadi takes off the top of the weaselperson suit. He sweats profusely and breathes heavily.

“I’m losing it. How pathetic.”

He stares at the face of the one who was once Jonathan Snow. He was an ordinary person, as far as you knew. None of this bizarre business about his external image influencing his internal self. I put on a mask and suddenly start to think I’m actually becoming an animal. I used to be rational. Is it, Danny? Is the pressure getting to me? The Uncrowned Champion in my path? How far back will I fall if I lose to him. And why, for fucks sakes, why, am I speculating that I’ll lose?

He’s been dismissing this whole roster week after week, top to bottom. By beating Chris Peacock, he’s validated his position at the top of this roster. I can’t lose to him. I may not be fond of everyone here, but I can’t let that man be proven right. It’d be dishonorable to me, and it’d be disgraceful to everyone else. I have to beat him. Not just beat him, I need to make him tap out. I made Cyrus fucking Truth tap out so there’s no reason to think I can’t make Danny fucking Toner tap out. In fact, whatever praise I’ve got for Danny, there’s no doubt he’s not the sort of guy to hold out when the pain gets too much. I’ve watched the tapes. The loss to Best, from so long ago.

He might have a fire ready to be stoked in his chest all the time, but it’s possible to snuff that fire out. Danny is going to be just as motivated to beat the shit out of me as I of him. No, more specifically, he’ll be determined to make a mockery of me. To make me out to be ridiculous. To bait me. Because he fancies himself a chessmaster, even if he’s not. Even if that’s never been his game. So, let him play the piece mover. Better than the guy who knocked out Thomas West and became a World Champion. Give me the coward who led Executive Excellence, and I’ll pick him apart as the weaselperson who humbled the Vagabond King.

I can do this. weaselperson can do this. Those two are one and the same. Stop overthinking things. Stop doubting yourself. Just do what you’ve made yourself confident you can do to anyone. Tap out or pass out.