Battleground #28 : Whatever It Takes (Show)

[anthonycaffrey]

A set of stage lights are turned on for a pre-recorded segment. The first thing we see is a giant “With a Cup of Caffrey” sign affixed to a wooden desk with a mug bearing the same logo. The backdrop is a few carefully-chosen photos of the Philadelphia skyline. There is a black couch placed next to the desk.

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back your host, Philadelphia’s phavorite son, Anthony Caffrey!

The X-Crown champion passes through the curtain. He is dressed in regular street clothes, including a blue and white Joel Embiid Sixers jersey, a pair of jeans, and some black-and-white Chuck Taylors. His usual stroke of confidence isn’t shown in his eyes, as instead, he seems to be surveilling the space. He nods to himself as the production cameras change their angle, revealing that Caffrey is in front of an empty crowd of hundreds of chairs. Caffrey cuts the silence with a joke.

Caffrey: Well, I see all the members of the Zoran Sainovic fan club have made it to the show tonight…

He lets out a small half-smile. His body language seems to indicate that he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to a very… special… episode of With a Cup of Caffrey. I hope you’re all being safe and phighting the good phight. Let’s uh…

As Caffrey fires off a modified version of his old intro, he almost immediately trails off.

...I was gonna do a whole bit, but even as I stand here, in front of an empty crowd, in front of a set I had reconstructed… I can’t.

He grabs himself a seat at the desk and leans in.

For two years, I sat at this desk interviewing celebrities. When I pitched the show, I wanted to be the only talkshow with real interviews. No gimmicks-- the idea was that gimmicks died with the Philadelphia Phighter. Maybe not the peak of journalism, but talking to people like people instead of that vain ‘Imagine’-esque perfect celebrity interview you always see. And for a while, it was great.

He sighs.

After all, I needed to heal. I am one of the few people to quit and retire young from wrestling and truly, truly mean it. And most of that was the physical -- too many concussions too close together, a fucked up shoulder that still gives me issues… at least I know when it’s gonna rain…

Caffrey rubs the old injury.

...and some of you think I don’t like lifting wrestlers! Fuck, I miss being able to german suplex people around the ring like ragdolls without worrying about throwing my arm out!

He laughs a slightly pitiful laugh.

So instead of tossing guys around, I tossed out good questions… real riveting stuff. Or so I thought... at least until the ratings came in, and the producers told me we weren’t even close to the most popular show IN Philadelphia.

Caffrey lets out an “oof”.

Then we introduced this fucking wheel.

He points to a large wheel that gets brought in. It’s slotted with many unusual and downright gross tasks, including “Cockroach Time”, “Human Fondue Fountain”, and “Text Your Ex”. Caffrey walks down and checks it out.

It started out as a fun series of ideas. And hey-- if there’s one thing I know how to be, it’s the center of attention. If I had to eat a bug or eight for ratings, I was willing to do it. I’ve joked in the past about eating a mop-- and it’s still worse than eating a scorpion. Scorpions are at least weirdly crunchy, like the worst potato chip ever. But…

He points to a seat in the crowd.

One night during the Q and A, this guy just goes, ‘what do you think of Michael Brewer winning the GWA World title?’

His pointing finger is balled up into a fist.

When I walked out of the GWA, when we got sued to high heavens for a series of incidents including starting our own company, Mike had walked with me. I watched it when I got home. I watched as every single man I had walked with had crossed the line and went back. Every single one. A friendship we had forged through literal fire, and there they were. Championships, Hall of Fame rings, you name it. And here I was, eating fucking bugs in between promoting movies I didn’t give two shits about.

Caffrey shakes his head.

It hurt.

He puts his head down, walking back up to his desk.

Hurt real bad.

And so I went back over the line… promising vengeance on every one of those motherfuckers... I’ve talked about the physical hurt and healing, but I was finally ready mentally again. After too many lawyers and lawsuits killed my love of professional wrestling, I was ready to make everyone hurt just as bad to get fucking even. Redemption started in a Thunderdome, and in those following months…

Caffrey releases the fist he’s had unconsciously balled up.

...I didn’t get even with even a single one of those fucks. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t faster, stronger, I couldn’t lift ‘em… I carved out a few wins here and there, but this grand Vegenance Tour? Never happened. I wasn’t good enough. GWA closed, and there I was. One world title in about eight years of wrestling. I wasn’t good enough.

Caffrey reaches for the mug and takes a sip. He spits the coffee back into the mug. He jokingly shakes his head.

Fuck Marcus, when I asked this to be put back together, I wasn’t expecting the shitty coffee to make a comeback. When was this brewed, 2017?

The X-Crown champion’s visible look of disgust quickly turns as he jumps back into his thoughts.

When I was whisked away to an island to receive an offer to join AXW… I signed knowing that this was my last chance. My body wasn’t going to hold up to a bunch of ass-kickings with no results to show for them. And while anything was better than bugs, staring up at the lights and wondering how you got your ass kicked so bad gets real taxing after a while. I lasted three hours these past two Rumbles because getting my ass kicked is a specialty of mine.

The champion has jokes.

So I… uh… bent the rules for a while. If I couldn’t be faster, if I couldn’t be stronger, I could damn sure be smarter. I could damn sure cheat. I hired two guys to form the AVA -- clearly my idea, because I had no other friends to tell me how dumb the name ‘Arrogant Violent Assholes’ would be…

Even the champ has to smile a bit.

...and we attacked the champion, cost him the title. We beat up Jackson Steele and Anomoly. We did everything to make sure we had the advantage -- to make sure I had the advantage. I didn’t give a shit about my partners like I did myself. They could sink or swim… and they very often sank… but when the choice is to go big or go home, I was much more focused on not going home.

Caffrey pulls up an iconic picture in his career on his phone: his AXW vs. AWF Champion vs. Champion match against Chris Card at Diamonds are Forever. He stands triumphant.

I rattled off a hell of a lot of victories this way. This is the biggest match of my career and I won with Wellington Dunne’s help. In the rematch, without the help? I lost. I wasn’t good enough.

He puts the phone away.

Without them, I resorted to every other trick I could think of, anything to get a mental edge. I accused Dylan Black of having brain damage repeatedly and made fun of him for it… and have never lost to him since. I beat up Maverick’s retired mentor to get one over him at Battle of the Best. I spraypainted the tombstone of a dead woman just to fuck up Bobby Barratt enough to win at Night of Champions.

Caffrey rattles these heinous actions off as a matter of fact, rather than a point of pride.

I lost sleep over that last one. That was fucked up, and I’m truly, really, really sorry about that.

You can tell he means it.

So now here I stand, staring down a helluva match. I was hoping for Zoran to pull through. I can beat that guy -- I’m faster and more technically savvy. Barring a legion of Zoranites, it’s doable.

Caffrey’s confidence is starting to come back.

But Death Trap, in an Ironman Match? Fuck me. He may be better than me in almost every single area. I’m not stronger than Trap -- with one left hand, he busted open Thompson. I don’t think I’m faster. Cut the Strings comes out of nowhere, and the Death Trap follows. I can’t even call myself his technical superior -- not only is that man a submission expert capable of tossing my ass around the ring like a bag of groceries, he’s piled up a list of tapouts… and he hasn’t even tapped out since two-thousand-and-fucking-three.

There is an audible gulp.

Yeah. Fuck.

The champ’s hand is shaking a bit as he speaks.

This year’s Rumble, I went three hours. He went FOUR because he didn’t have to sprint around like a typical manic MCCW match. There’s an alternate universe somewhere where if we swapped numbers, if he entered at forty-two and I entered fourteenth, he’s the champ today.

Caffrey sets his hands down on the desk. He takes a look back at the skyline behind him.

And these days, these days with people looking up to me, with the fans rallying around me, with me having a chance to finally do something good for someone other than Anthony Caffrey... I refuse to resort to the underhanded pre-match tactics like the ones I’ve pulled on Bobby and Mav. If that costs me, so be it. I’ll rip my Crown off Trap’s corpse at Night of Champions if I have to.

He turns back to the camera.

But in reality, I don’t think those tactics would matter to Death Trap anyway --- inviting him to retire to Quail Park of Lynnwood a few months ago only got me punched square in the teeth. He’s a wall of a man, and better than me in almost every single way. Hell, he’s probably a better human being than me too. This is gonna suck.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the X-Crown.

Maybe I should just fold this up and go home…

Caffrey takes a long, hard look at everything he’s worked for. He takes a few seconds before looking back up at the camera… and smiling his showman smile.

...or maybe not.

He puts the X-Crown mask on.

Because despite everything, despite Death Trap being a technical savant… he’s only ALMOST better. There are still some things I’ll beat him on every day of my life, and that doesn’t just include fashion sense.

You can sense the smile is getting bigger even if you can’t see it.

Among other things, that’s part of the reason why I know I’m smarter than him. I know it, even though he called me an oaf, deep down he knows it too. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the ring or outside of it-- I’ve got one on him mentally. His mind isn’t what it used to be. I have more awareness of what’s going on and as a ring general, I will not go down without utilizing every move in my arsenal.

Caffrey begins to aggressively nod.

Another thing, let me ask you at home a question -- it doesn’t matter if it’s thirty or sixty minutes between us. It’s a tied score going into the final two minutes… who you got? You got Death Trap, or you got Anthony Caffrey?

Caffrey does a “bring it” gesture.

Of course you’d pick me. You’d be living under a FUCKING ROCK if you picked anyone else! I have made a career out of pulling matches out of the trenches, of digging deeper than any man or woman alive, being able to close a match when everything’s been tried and there’s nothing left in either man’s tank. For crying out loud, I defended my Undisputed Championship UNCONSCIOUS. Meanwhile, Trap can’t close.

Caffrey calls for the camera to be brought in close.

Let me repeat myself: Trap. Can’t. CLOSE. Outside of an MCCW ring, he can’t close against top talent and he knows it. That’s not a secret.

Caffrey moves closer to the wheel.

You want my X-Crown, David? I'll last longer than Justice, you’re gonna have to lock in the Death Trap a helluva lot longer than five seconds against me! You failed to get the job done against Team Fuck Mongo in the Call to Arms Finals, and this will ONLY BE THE NEXT X-Crown Championship match you walk away empty-handed from! After all, while I mentioned the alternate Rumble reality where you became champion, in the real world you got elbowed out by a CERTAIN MOTHERPHUCKER FROM PHILADELPHIA!

Caffrey lowers the mask. He has no smile -- his eyes are as intense as ever.

I’m smarter than you, I can close, and the thing that’s going to result in my hand being raised after yet another instant classic -- I’m more determined than you are. There’s a saying in my city: ‘hungry dogs run faster’. Just because I won the big one doesn’t mean I’m done running. This is only the second mile of my marathon. This is my time, my moment, and I’m not done yet. I will give everything I have and more to leave the American Airlines Center with my championship. If I have to leave on a stretcher with you having broken every bone in my body, I will do so as long as the Crown’s still wrapped around my face. Dave, you may be ‘the best damn technical wrestler in the world'…

Caffrey delivers the Closing Remarks to the wheel. His elbow swiftly punctures the wheel, leaving no trace of half of the disgusting challenges on it. He turns back to the camera one last time.

...but at Whatever it Takes, you’re about to lose to The Best.

The wheel comes toppling down to the floor. Caffrey raises his arm as the camera cuts.

[SWAT Team]

"Something For You" by David Rolfe begins to play through the PA System as all the lights don a golden shade as the circulate around the stage area.

DIRTY, SEXY, SLINKY THING

POWER OVER ALL WITH THE LOVE YOU BRING

SPINNING, FROM YOUR, MIND CONTROL

SHUFFLING AROUND THIS DEEP DEEP HOLE

That's when the man himself appears as he comes through the curtain, pausing at the top of the stage with a evilish smirk on his face whilst he looks out to the vast majority of fans in the building booing him. He just soaks it all in before making his way down to the ring. Hayden slides onto the ring apron and looks out to the crowd, flipping both middle fingers out to the many that boo him.

YOU ARE THE ONE

MAKES ME SCREAM AND SHOUT

I'VE GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU.

I CAN'T COMPETE

WHY YOU STILL HOLDING OUT

I'VE GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU!

He enters the ring through the middle ropes and stands in the middle of the ring, a singular golden spotlight shining down on Hayden as one finger is raised and his head is lowered. Hayden looks back up at the heated crowd and just smiles before heading into his corner.



Frank Salazar : Introducing now, hailing from South London, England. Coming in at 5’11 and 210 pounds .... "The Bastard" HAYDEN CALLAHAN!!!

The strum of the banjo brings the red blood splatter on the video board as James walks out onto the stage. He looks left and then right slowly shaking his head before a smile creeps across his face.

Frank Salazar : Now introducing his opponent, hailing from Some Holler in VW. Coming in at 6’1 and 255 pounds .... representing the KGB ..... .The Ferocious One .... JAMES FIERCE!!!!!

<The bell rings.>

Jeremy Tucker: We have a treat for you guys up next. The veteran, James Fierce, has been on a roll lately meeting the on and off MMA fighter and pro wrestler Hayden Callahan.

Andrew Fulton: Hayden calls himself a bastard. Basically, this tells me his mother had a large number of sexual partners and isn't sure which suitor his father was.

<The two wrestlers circle and lock up. Fierce isolates a hand then starts bending Callahan's fingers back.>

Jeremy Tucker: Ouch small joint manipulation! I don't know if they taught Hayden the defense for that in his mixed martial arts classes.

Andrew Fulton: More like women's self defense classes.

<Fierce keeps bending the fingers back until he has him in a defenseless position. He then kicks Callahan in the stomach then locks on a bearhug.>

Jeremy Tucker: The Hillbilly Assassin is no small man. A lot of extra cushion behind this bearhug here.Fierce lifts him now and drops him backward into the corner. As Callahan bounces back Fierce locks the bearhug back on. Callahan punches himself free.... off the ropes..... slingblade!!

Andrew Fulton: Slingblade, a move I'm sure he does all the time in his MMA matches.

<Hayden Callahan goes off the ropes again and swings at James Fierce with a discus clothesline. He goes for a second but Fierce ducks.; He grabs Callahan's hands from the momentum and starts biting his right thumb and the ref starts counting for him to let go.>

Jeremy Tucker: Come on ref break that up! Break that! You can't bite!

Andrew Fulton: Hayden Callahan is probably wishing he took some Krav Maga classes instead of MMA right now. Could have helped him defend against small join manipulation and biting. If Fierce starts kneeing him in the balls it will all but confirm it.

Jeremy Tucker: James Fierce is riding high off the KGB swerve. He booted Soutter his long time ally!

Andrew Fulton: Knock knock.

Jeremy Tucker: Who's there?

Andrew Fulton: KGB.

Jeremy Tucker: KGB who?

Andrew Fulton:..... you hear a smacking sound from the commentary booth .... You do not question the KGB!

Jeremy Tucker: That was wildly unprofessional. Now as you were fooling, Fierce lifted Callahan up for a fireman's carry then dropped him! Great show of leg strength!

<Fierce drops down on the fallen Callahan and attempts an armbar. Callahan rolls out of it right away and stacks Fierce.]



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Kickout!!!

Andrew Fulton: Finally the MMA training comes in handy with great armbar defense. Tell Profe Brazilian Brazilianero he earned that hundred dollar a month membership fee I'm sure he charges him at the Mcdojo.

Jeremy Tucker: As Fierce rises to his feet Callahan lands a roundhouse kick! What was that about a McDojo Andrew? As Fierce reaches his feet Callahan with a kick to the stomach and tiger bomb!!!


1.................................



2.............................



KICKOUT!!!

Andrew Fulton: Hayden Callahan's back is hurt from lifting James Fierce and his oversized stomach up!!!

Jeremy Tucker: James Fierce sees the opening and goes for an ankle pick! He still has the leg and..... rolls over for a knee bar!!

Andrew Fulton: Look at the weight from all those rolls pushing against Callahan's knee! Pushing it in almost the other direction! Add to that those sweaty rolls are dripping all over the kneescaps!! But that's working against Fierce! Callahan is going to slip out!

Jeremy Tucker: No, Andrew Callahan just has great submission defense. He passes the knee line and now he..... rolls out.

<As James Fierce is slow to get to his feet Callahan grabs him by the head and executes a pullback neckbreaker. He picks him back up and executes a hammerlock. From there he boots him in the stomach and hits a ddt.>

Andrew Fulton: Fierce is wishing he had the loving embrace of Joanne Canelli at this point! You have no idea what I heard she offered him to join the KGB...

Jeremy Tucker: Don't even.... there are children watching. And I doubt what you were about to say is even true. Callahan lifts him on his shoulders showing great strength. Will he go for the fireman's carry like Fierce did to him earlier? No a death valley driver! He calls that the Painkiller!

1.......................



2.....................



KICKOUT!!!

Andrew Fulton: Well I can say she sits on his lap and tells him what she wants for Christmas. And you have to have superhuman strength to get Fierce on your shoulders. I'm talking Lou Ferrigno on steroids

Jeremy Tucker: I'm pretty sure Lou Ferrigno was....... Callahan with a rainmaker lariat!! That's the Twisted Nerve!!! This one is over folks!!!!!

1...........................



2..........................



KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Andrew Fulton: I hate when wrestlers name every stupid move they do. I mean I used to name my stool samples, but that was because some of them looked funny.

Jeremy Tucker: That is just disgusting. Callahan off the rows and goes for the shining wizard.....

Andrew Fulton: What does he call that one?

Jeremy Tucker: The Dying Light....

Andrew Fulton: For those that can't see I'm literally rolling my eyes right now.

Jeremy Tucker: Well he missed the Dying Light and Fierce grabs his legs and rolls into a boston crab!!

<Fierce extends the back and sits down on the crab, but Callahan slowly makes his way to the ropes. Fierce lets go, drags him by the legs to the center of the ring, straight jackets his arms and sits down into a camel clutch.>

Andrew Fulton: There isn't a chiropractor in the world that can fix your back after a man that looks like James Fierce does those two submissions holds on you. In MMA, they had weight classes for a reason.

Jeremy Tucker: Well you're going to love this Andrew. He releases the hold himself turns around, and grabs the leg for a cloverleaf!! Just tap Hayden!! Nobody will think any less of you!! Live to fight another day!!

Andrew Fulton: Speak for yourself. If he taps, I will cyberbully him...... from your twitter account...... so he thinks it was you.

<Callahan contorts his body and maneuvers out of it. He runs to the ropes, bounces off, and goes for a spinning backfist. He misses. Fierce kicks him in the stomach and hits a piledriver.>

Jeremy Tucker: Did you see Callahan's head bounce off the mat?? He can't sustain much more of this damage!

1 ..........................



2.................................



KICKOUT!!!!!

Andrew Fulton: Fierce is rolling out of the ring now. He rings the bell himself!! What does he think he can take that guys job now? That's an occupation that needs to unionize them Jerry!

Jeremy Tucker: I think he is saying he wants the match to be over to save Callahan from further punishment. The ref, of course, is shaking his head that he can't do that.

Andrew Fulton: Big and dense is a lethal combination.

<James Fierce rolls back in the ring, grabs Callahan by the hair, and locks on a stump puller.>

Jeremy Tucker: The Hillbilly Dirt Show!! This has to be it!!! YES!!!! The ref immediately calls for the bell!!!! He has seen enough!!!

Frank Salazar: Here is your winner by technical submission.... "The Hillbilly Assassin" James Fierce!

[thejerseydevildiva]

Act 1: What happened?

"Why can't I remember anythin'? I seem to have lost some time... Why is there a blond hair on my pillow? It can't be can it? Shit... It is!"



The scene opens on the beautiful city of Jersey Shore. The city was quiet while few protestors stood in front of city hall others headed off to work for another day. The sun was starting to set for another day over the crystal clear water. The smells from the local restaurants were starting to fade, as the smell from the water slowly started to replace it for another evening. The boardwalk was quiet except for the few that ventured out to walk their dogs or to take their daily jog. The camera moves over the city and soon comes to a stop on one of the nicer parts of the city. The manicured lawns are bright green in color and the sound of kids playing behind the high brick walls could be heard drifting from behind them. The camera soon comes to a stop on a familiar home. The "C" that usually was in one piece had been split with the gates open and leading up to the main house. The sun cast the last rays of light over it, as the tall willow trees bent over the driveway leading up to the large estate. The house seemed quiet and the windows were still covered by heavy black drapes that blocked out the sun. Soon a hand pulls back one of the curtains and we see who appears to be Joanne standing in the window looking out at the setting sun. She smiles running a hand through her blond hair. The door to the darkened office behind her opens and in steps Reno and Rude.

Rude: Is it you boss?

Joanne: What are you talkin' about?

Reno: Have you noticed the color of your hair?

Joanne moves to a mirror and looks at her hair as it starts to turn back to its normal dark color. Her eyes go wide as she sees the blond fading.

Joanne: What the fuck?!

Rude: We have no clue. When you came downstairs this morning, you were...

Joanne: How? I mean I've been takin' my... Shit...

Reno: Are you sure?

Joanne: Yeah. I need to make a phone call... I mean hopefully he can tell me what's goin' on...

Rude: And if not?

Joanne: And if not... I have no idea what I'm goin' to do. I can't let anyone see like me that... Can you imagine if she gets loose and I end up like that in the ring? Shit... Why now?

Rude: Did you drink from someone that you shouldn't have?

Joanne: I don't think so...

She sighs as she walks to her desk and sees her phone sitting on the edge. A small light flashes in the corner as she picks it up seeing that she had a message. She opens the message and closes her eyes putting a hand to face.

Rude: What's wrong boss?

Joanne: I have to defend my title this week...

Reno: Against who?

Joanne rolls her eyes as she looks down at her phone once again.

Joanne: Suzi Swallows... I mean Spitz and Lucky Linda.

Rude: Wait... Didn't you already beat both of them?

Joanne: Yeah I did. And I ran Sptiz out of the company! I don't know why she even came back. She doesn't have anythin' to prove to anyone! I have the Amazon Title and it's one she'll never get back, and neither will Linda.

She turns away from the desk and starts toward the office door.

Rude: Heading out?

Joanne: Yeah... I need to blow off some steam... I'll be back later. Hold down the fort while I'm gone.

Rude: Right. Do want Reno to go with you?

Joanne: No, I'll be fine. I'll be back later.

Joanne heads out into the hallway and toward the front door. She grabs a set of keys off of a hook and heads out into the oncoming night. The sound of crickets is soon heard, mixing with bull frogs that could be found in the back yard near the vast pond that reflected the moon that was staring to show its face over head. Her high heeled shoes click on the stone steps as she reaches the black BMW that sat at the bottom of the stairs. The car soon starts and she heads down the long stretch of driveway, and out onto the main road. The squeal of tires echo in the night, as the heads toward the city.

Joanne: Well, well, well... Suzi you found your way back to SWAT... But a lot of good it's goin' to do. I mean you left and everyone figured you left for the simple fact that you couldn't cut it here. But whatever the reason, you don't deserve to even have a shot at my title. I mean who in the hell do you think you really are? I plan on doin' whatever I can to win this match and keep my title very close. You're not worthy enough to get your hands on it anyway. I know that you're goin' to give me a fight if nothin' else but it won't be long. I'm not goin' to underestimate you because if I did, I would be just foolin' myself now wouldn't I?

She moves along the streets quickly heading toward the interstate.

Joanne: As for Linda this isn't the first time that we have faced each other. The last time that we faced off I believe is when... When is the last time we faced off? It doesn't matter does it? Now you and Spitz are tryin' to take what is rightfully mine but I can't let that happen. I know that both of you will try to stand together to take me down, but it's not goin' to be enough. I'm not goin' to underestimate you, I mean I know I've faced you before... But I don't underestimate any of my opponents. That's not goin' to change. But you can brin' whatever you want into the middle of that ring, and try to stop me, but we all know how this is goin' to end.

Soon she is heading down the long stretch of interstate, passing by a few cars as the night had finally set.

Joanne: I know both of you will do what you can to stop me and take what is rightfully mine. Suzi you managed to win your first match but I really don't care. You shouldn't even have a chance at my title since you just came back. Linda you have at least some quality to you... But you still don't deserve it. No one deserves it like I do. I've worked my ass off to get it, and the KGB will take every last title, and mine... Mine is just the beginnin'. We are the Mafioso and we get paid to kick your ass! See you soon, and good luck, you're goin' to need it!

She smiles as her fangs flash, and her eyes turn red. The car moves along the long stretch of road, and weaves in and out of the few cars that were on the road before disappearing into the night as the scene fades to black.

[edwarddubin0604]

(It's hours before battleground and Team Fairtex is in their locker room having to clean out both their lockers and their new gear bags which were filled with Rally Jackson's business. They are with their wives, The Hired Killers, who are still out for KGB blood but Team Fairtex is more focused on both their tag team championship match and getting revenge on Society of the New Breed for Rally's stunt.)

Jade: "What are you going to do about what happened."

Tong Fairtex: "Look we have a situation of our own and we're going to deal with that first."

Phantam Fairtex: "A real smelly problem with our gear bags thanks to one Rally 'Rusty Gut' Jackson."

Kim: "So you're not going to do anything."

Tong Fairtex: "We'll do something about it when the time coms. Right now our upcoming match is more important than our issues with the KGB and that's getting revenge on that sonofabitch Rally for ruining our gear bags and crapping up our lockers."

Jade: "You think that's more important than what happened to us."

Phantam Fairtex: "What's more important than regaining our tag team championships and giving Tuxedo Mask and Rally the beat down they've been asking for the past few months."

Kim: "How about us."

Tong Fairtex: "You're just as important to us. We have to be focused on our match and yet you want us to lose our focus on our match."

(Tong notices their fighting gear is ruined and he throws down his gear bag angrily.)

Tong Fairtex: "DAMNIT OUR PRIZED FIGHTING GEAR IS RUINED!"

Jade: "The same fighting gear you had since you started your wrestling career."

Tong Fairtex: "Yeah the same Muy Thai fighting gear. Rally just dishonored us and our fighting art because of his fucking immature stunts."

(He smashes his fist into the wall cracking it.)

Phantam Fairtex: "Calm down brother."

Kim: "So what do you plan on doing about it."

Tong Fairtex: "I want to beat down Rally and stuff his shit back into his mouth and make him swallow it until he chokes to death."

Phantam Fairtex: "Calm down brother. Tuxedo Boy and Rally Fat Ass is going to get what's coming to them. Right now we need to replace our gear bags and fighting gear as quickly as possible."

Tong Fairtex: "Jade we need you and Kim to go to that AWMA Store and get us some replacement fighting gear. Do it as quickly as possible."

(The Hired Killers look at them with their arms crossed.)

Phantam Fairtex: "Okay here's our credit cards and treat yourself to some new guns but don't max them out this time."

Jade: "I'll make sure Kim doesn't."

(The Hired Killers leave the locker room.)

Phantam Fairtex: "The nerve of Rally thinking he's a big bitch because he stole Syberus's championship and before that he and Tuxedo Mask steal our tag team championships."

Tong Fairtex: "Then they refuse to defend the tag team championships but get squashed by Brothers In Anarchy in the first round of The Anzac Cup.
Yeah you really epitomize the concept of fighting champions Society of the New Breed. Why don't you do what Jonnie Valentine likes to do and whore himself out to the first person who shows him the money."

Phantam Fairtex: "He already does that Tong."

Tong Fairtex: "You see Rally embarrass himself by supposedly oiling his already stinking fat carcass. What's wrong Rally you need to be ready for the barbeque spit when someone places you on it mistaking you for a huge side of beef. Yeah you don't have to listen twice since I said it and I'm not taking it back."

Phantam Fairtex: "I bet your feelings are hurt Rally but facts are facts and the facts are an inconvenient truth. You barely held your own the first time we met. You were squashed in the tournament and now we're going to make you squeal like the pig you are without no mercy or without. regret."

(Tong holds up the gear bags and dumps the contents.)

Tong Fairtex: "Tuxedo Mask and Rally Jackson you think this is funny. You think we're just going to laugh and pat you on the back just because you thought it was a joke and we have a sense of humor."

(They smile but then turn deadly serious with an equally deadly look on their fsces.)

Phantam Fairtex: "Well guess what bitches. Look into these eyes and you'll see that we're going to show you how funny it's going to be when we kick your asses all over that ring and outside the ring."

(Tong points to their fighting gear his face red with anger.)

Tong Fairtex: "You see this Rally. Your shit was dumped onto our wrestling gear. You ruined our fighting trunks and our crowns with your shit and you act like it was a joke. Well guess what Rally and Tuxedo Mask. It's not going to be funny when we step into the ring and crush you both and rip those titles right off those over sized guts of yours."

Phantam Fairtex: "This wasn't just our ring gear. It was our tradition. It was our fighting art and our honor you just soiled and you think we're laughing it off as if was some innocent prank or joke. Well tonight we're going to show you what real fun is going to be when we tear those championships away from you. Oh and Rally we may decide to tear up those Gi pants of yours leaving you exposed in more ways than one. You want that Rally. You want to play these immature jokes on us. Well after we're through with you people are going to be laughing at you Rally when they see you're nothing but a naked champion."

Tong Fairtex: "You know let's not stop their Phantam. Let's take that International Championship and really rip out Rally's oversized gut out since he needed help winning it. We can help him out by removing it from that oversized waist of his and defend it with the true respect that's deserved of such a championship."

Phantam Fairtex: "You forget that Rally and Tuxedo's friends are going to interrupt our match so they can give a worthless concert after costing us our championships."

Tong Fairtex: "Like they did to Mohammed Khan and Thomas during their match. Yeah just when the match got interesting Valentine and Syberus just had to interrupt it so they can pander to the crowd with bad karaoke and bad dancing. Even their fake Texas accents were off key and just plain stupid. They couldn't even invoke history without being stupid. He even had a couple of phony oil workers in the ring for sympathy."

Phantam Fairtex: "They made Frostbite's phony Suite's Suite look like more fun."

Tong Fairtex: "Well tonight your reign of poop jokes are coming to an end as of right now and we're going to beat the shit our of you."

Phantasm Fairtex: "Reference was literal we might add."

Tong Fairtex: "Hope you thought it was worth it Rally. We hope you enjoyed the fun while it lasted because after tonight are going to be humiliated and after tonight SWAT's going to have tag champions worthy of thee tag belts status. Tuxedo you and Rally have soiled our belts ever since you won them. You never defended them. You never even put them on the line against anyone. So how can you claim you elevated those championships. Tell us Tuxedo if you can do it with a straight face since we know you can't do even that."

Phantam Fairtex: "Never mind Tuxedo Mask. We know you won't answer since you're more interested in switching nationalities just to join a K-Pop band. Tell you what just don't show up and just give us the belts to save yourself the shame and embarrassment of losing to us. Since you won't do that we'll be glad to shame and embarrass you just like your partner Rally did to us by pooping in our gear bags and ruining our prized ring attire. Tonight we're going to you pay and you're going down."

Tong Fairtex: "We're going to see who's really the best and Team Fairtex will be declared jut not the winners but the best there is and always will be. That's not a joke. It's going to be reality and very real. Interview over. See you in the ring."

(The scene slowly fades to black.)

[eddied]

(Eddie D is met by the wrestling media at a press conference in the media suite at the American Airline Center, Texas.)

REPORTER 1: Todd Williams, 'Jobber Herald', Aren't you ashamed of yourself after ruining a perfectly good match with your run down?

EDDIE: That's an interesting question, Todd is it? Nice to see you interviewing someone of consequence for a change. I hope that you're just as hard on 100% Syberus and glass hammer Valentine... Ask Brien O' Thomas and Mr Khan how they feel about run ins when they're trying to make their way in the business.
I think, much as picking on people in comedy is better if you're punching up rather than stamping on the downtrodden, I think if you're getting involved in matches you deserved to be in in the first place, it's just corrective booking rather than a run down. Tonight they'll have to try and bully on someone their own size. I don't rate their chances.

REPORTER 1: Please answer the question. Are you not ashamed that, for a second time, you have interrupted a title clash and had a hand in the result when you weren't booked for the match?

EDDIE: 

REPORTER 2: Jim Corvette, 'Wrestling Inside the Ropes' fansite, You don't seem very sincere? If you don't have what it takes to get in the main events and title defense matches you can't just rock up and invite yourself to the top of the card...

EDDIE: Jim, sit on your hands little man and dial that tone back the right side of the arse whooping your stinking attitude deserves. You sir, are fake news.
I am very sincere. I apologize to 110% for what I did. But money is money. If you want someone to blame speak to the office. Zoran and the high ups could have booked Syberus and me in a cage match a month ago and I would have got all my hate for him out of my system in an instant classic encounter. THE Big Deal against the big cheese. Society meets Anarchy. The new blood around here meets the establishment limelight hogs. Money Money Money, in a match that promotes itself. Sadly if you book badly and let your roster fester, this kinda thing happens. 

REPORTER 1: People won't stand for your constant run downs. As my fellow journalists have said you can't just rock up and invite yourself to the top of the card.

EDDIE: I think you'll find that I just did Todd. I've done it before and I will probably do it again. Last week i was mid-card, after my run-in I'm almost top billing. That's anarchy baby! We all know that every week more and more people want to tune in to see what Eddie will do next. I'm a walking ratings war winner. I don't feel the need to stand on ceremony like gladiators waiting to be killed for your amusement to the beat of the ringmasters drum. I ain't no punk arsed Brit who lives his days in queues. And those queues are more likely to lead to a fish and chips shop than a dentists surgery by the way. People will stand for my constant run-ins or they will be laid out trying to stop me. I really think we've done this subject to death. Can we move on?

REPORTER 2: Has social distancing effected your preparation for this big match up tonight?

EDDIE: Nope. (a montage of Eddie training alone in empty gyms and parks plays on a screen as he answers.) It's all about making the most of your time in lock-down. In your own home there's plenty you can do to keep fit, but I invested in a home gym so I'm one of the lucky ones. You can make use of your daily walk the State allows for exercise to work out as you walk the dog or whatever. You just need to be more inventive than before is all.



EDDIE: I have been tested for Covid, else we wouldn't be able to wrestle obviously, but since I came into a stack of cash recently I spent some of it on tests for my friends and family.
It's the people without friends that I worry about.
People like Syberus and Valentine. Buying friends with places in your society isn't the way to get genuine friends people. Beyond the general loneliness of the lock-down blues, the social distancing won't really effect these guys though. Women have always wanted to keep 6ft from these creeps so they'll be used to it. Women can be cruel and judgmental that way. I am sure that if they got to know Syberus...they'd probably make that 12ft.

REPORTER 2: You seem to be in a great mood, but you're tag partner is unhinged and you are up against the Anzac cup holders. The holders knocked you out of the tournament....

EDDIE: Yeah, they knocked us out after we beat the tag team champions. WE BEAT the world tag team champions so we're clearly at a competitive level and we're only going from strength to strength. No one has even seen our two kick arse finishers unleashed yet. If you get up after being on the receiving end of the Get BonEd or the Career Cutter... well you deserve to walk away winners. 

REPORTER 3: Moriarty Grytpype-Thynne, 'Contact Sports Periodical', How can you explain your tragic drop in form last week against Timeless Alexander Turner?

EDDIE: I have spoken on that subject at length and think it's time to leave that particular hot potato alone. Death threats on social media from triggered feminists isn't my idea of fun. All I will say is that it felt like the official had somewhere else they would rather be. If you want to dial in a performance you're in the wrong federation. If you don't want to give the combatants your undivided respect and attention then don't officiate. With unemployment soaring world wide there are plenty of people that would love to do your job princess, so take it serious or don't involve yourself. Roxylishus looked fucking stunning though didn't she... Amazing that she's with that bum Timeless.

REPORTER 1: What do you feel about the Stylistic's attack on you in their promo this evening? They seem to be blaming you for leading Trent astray and...

EDDIE: Yep I saw their dumb arse promo and their ugly slant they have put on everything. Trent is big enough and sure as hell ugly enough to make his own decisions, when he's on his meds at least. I have already explained how easy it was for us to become friends and tag partners. After we opened each other's eyes on how we were both getting tail ended at the tail end of the card, losing pints of blood for nothing. All this bullshit about a Stetson wearing Brit being more patriotic than Eddie D? Well ethnic appropriation is a hot topic lately. You know nothing of our history. If you had turned up in a bowler hat it would actually have made better sense. You call it a bowler and we call it a Derby and they were the most common hat worn by Americans all across the west. You can't appeal to the people of Texas, where real cowboys came from, by running out here like a San Pornando Valley production of The Lone Ranger's Wet Dream.
And as for Johnny "Heat Magnet" Valentine. You know nothing about heat. 
You want heat with a Texan crowd, how about this?...
Hey Texas, How about you stop lynching... people that matter ... and join the fucking 21st century, ya hear? When your oil runs out we're gonna give you back to Mexico you gun toting, knuckle dragging, TexMex munching, cowboy boot wearing inbreeds. Your college football teams suck and so does your hot sauce.
If the crowd won't shoot me tonight they never will.

REPORTER 4: One more question for our listeners Eddie... Don Claret, Fox News ...

EDDIE: Let me stop you there. I don't talk to bigots, I don't talk to fake news pieces of shit like you and.... AND YOU FUCKING CANCELLED FIREFLY YOU SON'S OF BITCHES!!!
I'm out of here. 
Stylists to the Stars.... BRING IT ON!

(Eddie tears off the radio mic., tosses a chair into the middle of the reporters and smiles as they scatter and heads out of shot.)


IT'S GONNA BE A BEAUTIFUL TOMORROW PEOPLE. IT'LL BE WORTH THE WAIT. STAY SAFE AND FUCK THE HATERS. 110%!

[SWAT Team]

Jeremy Tucker: Well next match up we have Armand Von Krauss…

Andrew Fulton: This dude is a real loser, he failed in RSW..

Jeremy Tucker: He didn't fail he was in Jail and that place was still rocking he sold it back.

Andrew Fulton: Thats like saying the Brother In Anarchy didn't lose, they just didn't finish the Cup?

Jeremy Tucker: I would be careful to not piss of those two guys…

Andrew Fulton: Nah Trent’s my boy I was just using them as an example. Plus I kind of like Krauss Krimson Kharnival.

Jeremy Tucker: The biggest knock on him is that he thinks he is the best and that he has to be the best.

Andrew Fulton: Well time will tell

”Circus Apocalypse” by Vermillion Lies begins playing as Armand von Krauss walks out from the back. He looks around at the crowd with an arrogant smirk before lighting up an Egyptian cigarette. He walks down to the ring while smoking his cigarette, soaking in the boos from the crowd. Once he gets down to the ring, he flicks the cigarette butt into the crowd. He steps through the ropes and leans in his corner.

Frank Salazar : Introducing now, hailing from Cologne, Germany. Coming in at 6’2 245 pounds .... ARMAND VON KRAUSS!!!

[/div]
"24K Magic" by Bruno Mars kicks in and soon after Colin Trentwood pushes through the curtains with a huge stupid smile on his face, making idiotic expressions to the crowd and trying to pump them up. He wears a sequinned jacket to match his sequinned tights on his way down to the ring.]

[Soon after rolling into the ring he hops up on the ropes and plays to the crowd some more. He throws his sequinned jacket off and gets ready for the match to start.

Frank Salazar : Introducing now, hailing from The Madison, Wisconsin. Coming in at 5’11 and 206 pounds .... COLIN TRENTWOOD!!!

Jeremy Tucker: These two men are ready to do battle.

Andrew Fulton: Well let’s just hope this match doesn’t suck, like when Armand Von Krauss was in prison I am sure he learned to….

Jeremy Tucker: Ok moving on.

Andrew Fulton: The Referee has called for the bell

Jeremy Tucker: Krauss quickly locks up with Trentwood and he just over powers Trentwood and sends him down to the ring. Krauss quickly finishes it up with a quick kick to the side of the head and then a second kick to the face once Trentwood is on his back. Krauss goes for a 3rd kick but Trentwood quickly grabs the foot and he kicks out the other leg sending Krauss flying this time.

Andrew Fulton: Well Trentwood is on the move.

Jeremy Tucker: Trentwood grabs Krauss and goes for a ddt. But no, Krauss drives him into the rope and Trentwood is forced to break the hold. Krauss finishes it with a throat chop and then a jump kick to the bottom of the chin.

Andrew Fulton: Well Trentwood is going for a ride now.

Jeremy Tucker: Krauss quickly delivers a huge powerslam and follows it up with a choke hold of some type.

Andrew Fulton: I think in prison that's called who's your mommy?

Jeremy Tucker: Colin gets his foot on the ropes and the Referee is calling for a break in the hold.

Andrew Fulton: Colin is lucky his short leg was able to reach that rope.

Jeremy Tucker: Both men are back on their feet and Colin is able to get the leverage this time and delivers one of his DDTs on Armand. Colin goes for the cover.

…….1

……………….2

Andrew Fulton: Kick out come on you know damn well you were not in a position to pin him.

Jeremy Tucker: Colin is going to help up Armand and go for a clothesline but Krauss catches him and turns it into a belly to belly suplex.

Andrew Fulton: I will say Armand is great at executing these moves.

Jeremy Tucker: So you're changing your mind on him now?

Andrew Fulton: No he still sucks, I can't wait for him to face someone like Eddie D, Valentine or one of the other big name guys.

Jeremy Tucker: Colin Trentwood is no easy task, speaking of, Colin is back up on his feet. But Krauss is on the attack. Colin Trentwood grabs the rope as Krauss goes for a suplex. Colin roles him up and both men are both on their feet.

Andrew Fulton: Down goes Krauss .

Jeremy Tucker: Colin Just executed a hell of a neckbreaker. Colin locks his legs around Krauss neck and Colin puts pressure on his neck. But Krauss quickly rolls and locks one of the ankles as Krauss puts pressure on his ankle and Colin releases his own hold.

Andrew Fulton: Krauss Just dropped all of his damn weight on Colin’s ankle and then locks back on it once more.

Jeremy Tucker: Krauss uses an inverted Figure 4 leg lock and puts a lot of pressure on his knee. Kraus holds the ankle and flips Colin and locks on a more standard leg lock. Colin is in pain and the referee is checking on him. Colin is fighting to get to the ropes and Krauss keeps pulling him back. Colin gets free.

Andrew Fulton: Wait a damn second Kraus still has the leg in one hand. Kraus pulls him up and tosses him into the corner. Kraus charges the corner and kicks Colin in the side of the head.

Jeremy Tucker: Colin may just be out… Kraus goes for the cover.

…………...1

……………………….2

……………………………………...Kick out.

Jeremy Tucker: Colin is fighting for his life, Kraus and Colin are both Standing and Colin throws a few punches but they do not land on the mark. They make contact but not really on the mark. Armand has Colin in his arm and he lifts him up into a power bomb.

Andrew Fulton: Drill Tip is what this move is called. Colins head just slammed to the ring hard.

Jeremy Tucker: Armand Von Krauss goes for the cover but the referee points to Colin’s foot that is under the rope. Looks like Krauss is going to go for his Drill Tip once more.

Andrew Fulton: Damn that thud right there sas Colin's head separating from his body. Kraus puts his foot on the chest of Collin as the referee goes to count

…………………..1

……………………………..2

……………………………………..3!!!!!

Jeremy Tucker: This match is over and Krauss has a very telling victory tonight here in SWAT.

Frank Salazar : Your winner of the match via pinfall Armand Von Krauss

[King Syberus]

(A slate of the BBC2's evening line up appears)

Announcer: You've just been watching Great Moments In Cricket History. Join us next week when we revisit the 1979 World Cup Final where Viv Richards put England to the Sword by 92 runs. Coming up at 6:00 this Sunday afternoon, there's Unexplained Mysteries: Ships In Bottles. But coming up next, Birds of a Feather with 110% Syberus and "Heat Magnet" Jonnie Valentine.

(Open on 110% Syberus and Jonnie Valentine standing in the lovely English countryside with The Anzac Cup behind them. Both men have binoculars)

110% Syberus: Hello, and welcome to Birds of a Feather. With your amazing support we have become the UK's second highest rated bird watching by wrestler half hour program.

"Heat Magnet" Jonnie Valentine: Thanks to your help, we have recently passed up "Freebirds with Michael Hayes". While we don't condone our overzealous fans doxing Mr Hayes or harassing the production crew on Twitter, we appreciate your enthusiasm.

110% Syberus: Now that that's over. we're happy to just be in the conversation with Koko B. Ware's hit show "Do The Bird: Searching For The Next Frankie".

Jonnie Valentine: Yeah, if you shoot the king, you better not miss.

110% Syberus: We're coming to you from the Cranborne Chase, which is classified as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty here in the United Kingdom, straddling the counties of Dorset, Hampshire and Wiltshire. Today we're looking out for a wonderfully cheeky little chap, the Eurasian blue tit. And we have a real treat for you today- as we will shortly be joined shortly by Dr. Allen Duffy of The Audubon Society.

Jonnie Valentine: I can't think of a bigger name when it comes to The Audubon Society.

110% Syberus: Me either.

Jonnie Valentine: Let's see some day bats!

110% Syberus: Birds.

Jonnie Valentine: Birds.

(Cut to 110% Syberus and Jonnie Valentine crouching in some brush with The Anzac Cup. They're both peering through their binoculars. Syberus lets out a hushed gasp of delight.)

110% Syberus: (whispering) Look at that stunning purple finch. Jonnie, as you know, the purple finch is often confused with the house finch.

Jonnie Valentine: (whispering) Fucking idiots.

110% Syberus: (whispering) Quite. He appears to be male.

Jonnie Valentine: (whispering) If you can see that from here, he's got to be quite the male.

110% Syberus: (whispering) Hmm? No, you can tell from his conical seed eating bill.

Jonnie Valentine: (whispering) You know, the sound of the bald eagle we hear in movies is actually a red tailed hawk. The real sound is an unimpressive chirp.

110% Syberus: (whispering) I know. You told me that in the car.

(Suddenly the boom mic hits the branch above them and scares all the birds away)

110% Syberus: What are you doing?? You scared all the bloody birds away.

Boom Mic Operator: Sorry, you guys are whispering. It's...it's hard to hear.

(Cut to 110% Syberus, Jonnie Valentine and a bird expert standing in a different area of the woods with The Anzac Cup)

110% Syberus: Joining us now is Dr. Allen Duffy of The Audubon Society. Welcome Allen.

Dr. Allen Duffy: Pleasure to be here.

110% Syberus: Now Dr. Duffy. You're one of the foremost voices in the field of nature preservation. You've written several books on birds, so obviously our first question is how come Eddie D needs so much attention?

Dr. Allen Duffy: Well, the Eurasian blue tit is one of the...I beg your pardon? Are you referring to the wrestler?

110% Syberus: Was it environmental? Lifting weights until Mummy and Daddy took notice? Did it start in primary school when he was always cast as the rock in the school play?

Dr. Allen Duffy: I'm afraid I don't know.

Jonnie Valentine: Did you know the sound of the bald eagle we hear in movies is actually a red tailed hawk. The real sound is an unimpressive chirp.

Dr. Allen Duffy: I did yes, thank you. Now the Eurasian blue tit's plumage is distinctive, with a blue cap, and a white face with dark line through the eyes, yellow underparts.

Jonnie Valentine: You know who also has yellow underparts? Trent Jones. They're yellow, discolored, puffy. He talks about them all the time. Sometimes I wonder if his entire title run is a cry for help for his disease ridden genitalia.

110% Syberus: Sorry Dr. Duffy, we keep talking about this small time tag team we've already handily defeated and you're here to talk about the Eurasian blue tit. Is it very common here?

Dr. Allen Duffy: Oh yes, you can find them in any wooded or forested habitats. Parks, gardens, even in hedges when you get out to the farmland.

110% Syberus: Well let's hop on the tractor I say!

Dr. Allen Duffy: Quite! Although that would scare the birds. Hahahah!

110% Syberus: Yes, quite! Hahahah!

Jonnie Valentine: Eddie D thinks he knows what heat is because everyone boos him for doing the stunner. Real heat is not being able to have a match without half the heel locker room jumping in. Real heat is everyone sticking their nose in my matches because it's the only way they get into the conversation. Where even is our fearless leader? I'll tell you where. Trent Jones re-wet his pants when he saw The Society break up that shitty opening match because he knew that was his future. Trying to climb back up the ladder and then The Society of the New Breed leaves them both laying to show off our new cowboy boots. Eddie D's back there with a hair dryer, wondering if STD laden urine comes out of Trent's pleather. Interfering in our matches may get people to stop talking about losing to Timeless, but it's also gets you a date with humiliation. Frosty found out all about his appointment back in Palm Springs, and Eddie Spaghetti will find his time and time again.

Dr. Allen Duffy: I say, it appears the Eurasian blue tit has landed in your trophy!

(110% Syberus turns around and sees the Eurasian blue tit nesting comfortably in The Anzac Cup)

110% Syberus: Amazing.

Jonnie Valentine: Almost as amazing as the fact that the sound of the bald eagle we hear in movies is actually a red tailed hawk.

Dr. Allen Duffy: (Waving Jonnie off dismissively with one hand while creeping tentatively towards the bird) Yes, yes... it appears to have accepted your trophy as it's home. The Eurasian blue tit will nest in any suitable hole in a tree, wall, or stump, or an artificial nest box, often competing with house sparrows or great tits for the site. Few birds more readily accept the shelter of a nesting box.

110% Syberus: Ah, I may have encouraged this by filling it full of seeds and bugs. Perhaps similar to how Trent Jones offered Big Fat Eddie the promise of warm brotherly embrace in exchange for becoming his unwitting pawn.

(Jonnie nods pensively.)

Jonnie Valentine: Hmm, yes, quite similar.

Dr Allen Duffy: (looking past Jonnie and Syberus at the film crew now presuming they are the only sane people present) Are we talking about wrestling again?

110% Syberus: You see, Big Fat Eddie lacking any graceful plumage of his own in order to attract to desired attention from a suitable mate or, any kind of discernable heat will often instead leech onto others much like those fish that suck on sharks.

Dr Allen Duffy: A Remora?

Jonnie Valentine: You know, although it was initially believed that Remoras fed off particulate matter from the host's meals, in reality their diets are composed primarily of host feces. So, yes very much like Eddie and Trent indeed.

110% Syberus: Indeed.

Jonnie Valentine: Quite.

110% Syberus: Splendid.

Dr Allen Duffy: Now we're talking about fish? I'm sorry, I thought this was about the birds.

Jonnie Valentine: Of course Dr Allen, how rude of us. Now, let's focus on the bald eagle, and an interesting little fact-

Dr Allen Duffy: Gasp! There's another!

(Another Eurasian Blue Tit flutters down and lands in the cup with the first one.)

110% Syberus: What a day! We are truly blessed.

Jonnie Valentine: (clutching his binoculars to his chest and looking emotional) We really are. Suck a dick, Koko B.Ware.

110% Syberus: Hahahaah quite.

Dr Allen Duffy: Quite indeed.

110% Syberus: Well Dr. Allen, I think these two lovebirds could use some space for a while. I noticed a little tea room just down the lane. Why don't we grab a spot of brunch, and if you're game, we're on the hunt for the elusive Lesser Spotted Woodpecker.

Jonnie Valentine: I've got goosebumps just thinking about it.

Dr Allen Duffy: Why the heavens not?

(They walk off and as the camera fades on the two birds we hear Jonnie bringing up the bald eagles again.)

[Venom 🕷]

In the back we find Javier on his phone. He doesn’t notice the camera man and continues scrolling through before he looks up and sees the camera shocked.

Javier: What do you want? You want to know what’s happening between me and EC? That’s our business, but if you must know it is a misunderstanding and we’ll work it out. We’re under contract together so nothing is going to change. You want to know what I have to say about Blackstone? Good, because I have plenty to say so let me talk straight to him.

Javier straightens up and sits looking straight into the camera intensely.

Javier: I don’t know what it is you do here but I think I need to make something clear for you. My client is not a joke. My client is a man with a rocket strapped to his back aimed straight for the top of this company while you are a man jumping out of an airplane without a parachute. My client is Broadway and you’re Crank Yankers. The gist of it Mr. Blackstone is my client is to be taken seriously and you’re the one whose a joke around here.

Javier: So Mr. Blackstone when you purposely butcher my clients name to call him cumstain you might be laughing but the only people laughing too are laughing at you because it stopped being funny making fun of peoples names long ago and not knowing the names of the top stars in the place you work for makes you look like an idiot. I know you did it when you had a shot at Caffrey and the X*Crown so maybe I should be flattered for my client that you hold him in the same regard, but really I just feel sorry for you.

Javier: How far stuck in the past must you be to think that publicly doing drugs and acting like every ghetto stereotype type makes you cool and entertaining? How old are you that you think flashing your sexual desires makes you cool? This is a wrestling company not a dick measuring contest. No one cares about who you fuck, how long you fuck, who you want to fuck, or really a single thing about your dick. Seriously, no one cares.

Javier: To you this is a joke and you’re a joke, but to my client this is real, this is life. He’s spent his entire life as a wrestler. His family has been in this business for generations. This is what he does and this is all he does. He doesn’t take a break to do drugs and fuck randoms because that would stop him from living his dream. It would take that rocket off his back and he’s plummet to the earth just like you are. That’s why tonight he’ll expose you and continue to show the world that he’s the best up-and-coming star in this company.

Javier: Is that what you wanted? Good, now get out of my face.

We cut back to the arena.

[Dave D-Flipz]

: "Thanks for getting back to me so quickly Barbara. I know this whole spring has been a huge hassle for everyone. Especially home in Seattle."

*The scene opens with Death Trap sitting in the American Airlines Arena lobby for SWAT Battleground #28 in Dallas. He is on the phone with someone. Apparently Barbara.*

: "Yes I was a little concerned about the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone in the city center. But you guys are far enough away and the people of Seattle are generally classy citizens. I’m sure everything there will work out fine despite what he federal government is spitting out of their machine at people."

*He pauses again and then smiles*

: "Oh it’s really no problem, I know money is an issue for lots of folks in the pandemic. But as an XHF and MCCW employee doing extra shows recently I felt I could give back by sending in the money for the spring and summer rent and feed up front and then donate to a few causes as well. Trying to do my part to give back and actually put my money where my mouth is. Can’t be a champion for the people and not help the people. I assume pops is doing ok?"

*As DT listens to the response he is shining up his MCCW World Heavyweight title belt.*

: "That’s fantastic, I’m glad you guys were able to get him and momma to stop pestering me about that sarcastic stuff I used to mock that Zoran guy. And yes I can reassure you he is NOT related to me. He’s not even Italian. I just wish my ... ahem … nephew … Tony had been more forthcoming with you. He has always been the black sheep of the family. Bit of a nuisance, but you know every Italian American family knows going in that when you name your child Anthony, you are asking for problems. They are ALL troublemakers."

*He sits back and looks like he is taking in what Barbara is saying*

: "Yes I’m SURE his heart was in the right place and it did allow me to get my parents to Quail Park of Lynnwood. I just wish Anthony was a little less loose with his words and actions. He could have really caused problems with that stunt. I’m just glad he didn’t do anything malicious! He has a history of that you know."

*He smiles as the reply comes*

: "Haha yes of course, we truly can’t choose our family can we? Ok thanks for the update, glad the check got to you in all this craziness. Just uh … don’t let momma into the kitchen … it would ruin the diets of all the clients. She doesn’t know the meaning of low fat … or low carb … or healthy. It’ll taste great though! Ok thanks again … yes buh bye."

*He pushes the end call button and then spins on the bench to face the camera. He pockets the phone and then puts his hands together as if in thought*

: "It’s funny, I was going to come here to SWAT and try to convince everyone that Caffrey is still the same Caffrey as he always has been. You’ve been here a few years now, actively competing in the network longer than I have since my return. And the entire time it’s always … ALWAYS been about furthering Anthony Caffrey. And you have no problem being equally as loud-mouthed as I am to make sure everyone knows to pay attention to Anthony Caffrey. There seemed to be nothing you held sacred other than being on top if for no other reason than to stick it to those beneath you. And so I poked the bear. Let’s be frank I’ve made a career off of somehow making dumb decisions into entertainment gold. Sometimes at my own expense. So what risk was there? You were not going to be my friend in the rumble anyway. And I got out exactly what I expected. I got the predictable Anthony Caffrey. With the added bonus of finding a fantastic retirement community for my parents! Who AREN’T ZORAN! I can’t stress that enough. Thanks to that psychopath I’ll be picking Lego out of my back and wrist for years. Thankfully his attempts to maim me were as reliable as he was. No permanent injuries, no career ending wrist explosion syndrome. Just a week of soreness and a prescription for aloe vera burn cream."

*He rubs his left wrist which is still red but seems no worse for wear.*

: "Caffrey, right. Caffrey gave me exactly what I thought I would get when I goaded his reply to me. I was convinced he had no scrap of decency within him. I mean he missed the chance to CALL me a joke instead of just insulting my … refined … sense of humor."

*The cameraman coughs*

: "Hey no comments from the peanut gallery. You don’t know me SWAT camera guy. *he straightens up* I dug into the past and found some funny images that I thought showed a grand juxtaposition between what Caffrey puts out when he is reliant on public opinion and what he actually was when he didn’t need to care. Is he the dude in a human chocolate fondue fountain eating a mop? Or is he the bile filled, vengeful, arrogant violent asshole who tried to shatter Syberus’s legs for no reason other than pride … and cost himself a title in the process? I assumed the ol’ Cup of Caffrey shit was the anomaly. It was the façade."

*he nods his head and shrugs*

: "And he comes out and starts ripping on my home fed and our representation in the rumble. Which by the way, sure you won and Zoran … was there … nobody but Bloodied Fox came close to matching what DT did in the rumble. MCCW was there in force. Anyway, he comes out bragging about how people tell him his competition was lackluster but it SO WASN’T only to then turn the same argument on me. Trying to convince everyone that Jason Justice, champion in MCCW and AWF isn’t good competition. That Mistress Discipline who stood up to Hyperion and Jack Diamond alone for far longer than she had any right to is crap. That Leon Chant, trained by Rob Arnold and multi time champ in MCCW is worthless. Hell even that oddball Swann went out and won a world title in another fed you seem to respect. But because Caffrey isn’t there it’s not real wrestling."

*He is getting amped up again as he did at Call to Arms.*

: "And then … then he talked about Philadelphia. And something was different. The cynical old man in me wanted to call it false bravado and false pretense. But it wasn’t was it? Caffrey actually does somehow care about his home town and the people within. Color me shocked because it’s the first crack in the ass we’d seen … no that was definitely intentional. *he winks* It was heartfelt and honest. Only the TRULY blind or evil person could look at that and not see the actual care in your eyes, and hear it in your voice. But one glimmer of light doesn’t illumination make. You fought your ass off in the rumble … and helped Zoran try to screw everyone. And the only reason he didn’t succeed was you backstabbed HIM. Now I’m not gonna be the idiot who says backstabbing Zoran makes YOU the bad guy because let’s face it … Zoran is the epitome of the bad movie villain isn’t he? Goddamn Lego death matches …"

*He stands up and starts to walk back into the performer area of the arena*

: "But as you said yourself you expected to come out at the ANZAC cup after the rumble and be greeted with middle fingers. They weren’t cheering you, they were cheering Zoran failing, they just so happen to hate him more than you somehow. But it’s the sheer delusions that got to me. Winning the rumble just suddenly made you humble and lovable? You can understand how I’d be skeptical. You are after all, the chief asshole, the man behind the AVA (and you rip on my naming abilities), the guy who assaulted a retired wrestler to make a point to another, the guy who sold a man’s pride and joy to Mongo … MONGO OF ALL FUCKING PEOPLE! … just to be an asshole, the man who desecrated the tombstone of your foe’s girlfriend to get in their head, the man who got your former ally kicked out of the fed you loved when it was in need of talent just because he wasn’t quite as good a boot-licker as you’d hoped. Anthony Caffrey pre-2020 rumble was just about the worst human being the XHF Network had ever seen. And we saw Bobby Barratt commit a ‘hate crime’ and Hyperion get hundreds of people to drink the Kool-Aid. LITERALLY!"

*He stops and really lets the literally linger as he looks into the camera.*

: "And suddenly here Caffrey is fresh off of benefitting from an old man bringing a literal army of minions, a literal robot, and an actual knife into the ring to cheat for you and him … thinking we suddenly forgot and he can just play it off as a phase … a lifelong phase … a phase he suddenly snapped out of because he has a title. Because when you had the AXW title you changed SO much right? Uh uh. I ain’t buying it, Caff. You don’t just get to come out and take advantage of a situation where you suddenly are the least horrible option among those presented and claim it makes you a saint."

*DT tosses his hat onto his head and unbuttons his dress shirt to start getting ready for a pre-match routine.*

: "Oh and lay off the hat. It’s stylish and I need SOMETHING to hide the scars and balding. Maybe it was the only hat I could find in the lost and found on my way out of ECF back in the day and it ended up in all my publicity photos and now it’s synonymous with me and I can’t get rid of it …"

*He coughs and regains his composure and fixes the hat on his head*

: "Caff I need you to understand … I get that people can change. But not this much this fast. I don’t … buy … you. You were the scummiest scum of the Earth and suddenly letting Zoran get dumped and then kicking Jack out of the Rumble makes you the great and peaceful Buddha. It’s a tough pill to swallow. When I come out here to cheers from the fans it’s because I spent the last few years of my XHF career making amends for being an insufferable prick. It’s because I gave and I gave and I gave until I gave so much of me I wasn’t even in my right mind for YEARS! The fans got to get to know me and like me and see what the real DT is about. So you can excuse me if I don’t just fall and pray at the house of Caffrey based on you coming out here and acting like the world is a new and different place and you are a new and better man. And you can see the cracks in the persona. The old Caff peeking through. If you want to prove you are a changed man you can’t just be all PR moves and being nice to the camera."

*He pops his MCCW title around his waist now that he’s in his workout pants and a gym shirt. Hiding those money abs.*

: "The minute Linda started talking about her feud with Zoran instead of her match with you suddenly you are going off. Gotta be the center of attention. Hell I’m the Main Attraction and you don’t even see me snap like that. And it sucks because you noticed that slip, you saw the cracks forming in your new porcelain persona. And you apologized … a formulaic political ploy. And here’s the shitty part. The ACTUAL call you made during that apology to make yourself look good? I agree. It’s kinda hard to turn off that side of me that wants justice and for all my many fans to be treated equally. And even there you couldn’t resist the one heckler could you?"

*he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. He shrugs*

: "You can’t turn off the asshole on a whim Caff. You gotta work for it and EARN the respect and own the change. And as far as I can see you haven’t gotten there. So you’ll excuse me if I don’t buy that you reformed into this bastion of justice. Ironic that you suddenly feel the need to be this white knight right before facing a man the fans clearly value more. Gotta be the bigger man right Tony?"

*He starts to stretch*

: "Here’s the simple details Caffrey. You have something I want. And you are not going to get in my head with the nice guy act. You can spout all the wholesome stuff you want, play the same cards every politician looking to be elected says just to get votes, but it is going to take action to prove you have changed. Tonight you can assume I will be expecting you to cheat. You can believe I will be ready for it. So prove me wrong, I dare you, I’d be HAPPY to admit I was wrong if you can just live the change! But until you do more than just ta;k a nice game again, or wax nostalgic for your home and old show … it ain’t enough. Instead you can prove it by being a gracious loser and shaking my hand when I beat you tonight."

*He stops and stands up straight for a last word as the camera fades*

: "OH! And way to bust that wheel you colossal ass! Coulda auctioned that shit off to support those causes you’ve been claiming to support the last two shows. Geez. Such an ass…"

*Fade*

[Trent Jones MR Bones.]

You hear Trent Jones' voice.

“What the fuck do you mean I purchased that church and graveyard? How the fuck did this happen?”

The scene opens up and Trent Jones is standing in front of the rundown church. Trent is dressed in black cargo shorts and a red killin it shirt. He has on a brother in anarchy bandana on his head. He has on a pair of black Oakleys and smile on his face. Molly steps out wearing a very sexy sundress as her beautiful blonde hair blows in the wind.

“Trent it wouldn’t have been first choose to call home, hell I probably would have chosen any place over this. That god the ryder house will be done shortly.”

Trent wanted to correct her it was the Ryder Club House but he let it go. Being back here felt odd, Trent walked over to the grave that he watched himself get buried at. Granted he watched the footage from that night and it was just his robe and the book.

Trent looks down in the hole and sees nothing but dirt. He grabs the near by shovel and starts tossing the dirt in the hole.

Molly just watches as he works up a sweat. She has a bad feeling about this place but she is with the man she loves. She truly believed in love at first site but was this really love? Or was this just someone that wasn’t her ex.

Trent stops tossing dirt as he looks at his beautiful girlfriend. He smiles at her and tosses more dirt. Molly walks towards him and she points at the bulldozer that is sitting on the property. Trent walks towards it with Molly as he reaches for her hand. She happily grabs it and they walk happily.

Trent steps up on the bulldozer. He turns the key but of course it won’t start. It has been sitting just like all of this shit. This is the point where Trent usually would snap but instead he just laughs. Whatever it is about Molly it has a calming effect on Trent.

She looks at her smartwatch and looks at Trent. “It’s time for your medication babe.” She reaches in her purse and pulls out a container and a bottle of water. She places the pills in his hand and hands him the water bottle.

Trent looks at her and takes the pills, he grabs the water bottle and then he laughs. “The pulls go down better with beer baby. But let's head inside and make this home.”

The happy couple walks back towards the front of the church. Molly only has seen the inside on the network. They reach the door and she looks worried.

The door opens at the church still looks like a run down church. They walk behind the alter and find the rectory part of this church. They are sitting in a living room and they smile at each other. It’s not ideal but they are together. Trent sits down on the couch and Molly joins him.

“Look Molly I know things have been hard and I was a dick I am sorry. But I am ready to move forward with you I am sorry I left you in the arena. I can’t even give a good reason to you. Please forgive me.”

Molly doesn’t say anything she kisses Trent and a tear falls from her eye. Trent touches the tear and kisses her once more.

“Trent I love you and to be honest I was hurt bad when you was gone when I left the medical area. But I was scared when I pulled up here to this church with Eddie D and saw you ready to kill a man. The fact that Eddie was worried you would freak out if we rode on his bike. So we almost didn’t get here in time because we had to use a sidecar. Your partner is a good guy just like you. But when you saw me you changed back to the guy I saw in that bar many months ago. A man that was a new and upcoming wrestler and now your still SWAT champion.”

Trent smiles, “of course I am still champion, did you think for even a minute that the pale skin creep was going to beat me? You must have more faith in me, baby I am the real deal. On my meds or off my meds I am always going to give my all when the belt is on the line. Trent laughs as he thinks about how great he is.

Molly runs her fingers through his beard and pulls his face back down to her and they kiss yet again

Molly looks at him, “so who is your next match against?”

Trent just sits their and throws his shoulders up, “the fuck if I know… probably syb or valentine those whores always find a way to be in the top two matches of every shows” Trent hands her his phone.

She opens up the XHF Network app and she selected the SWAT logo. She scrolls through and laughs. “Looks like you have both of those guys and you and Eddie D are going to have a Texas death march against them.” She hands Trent back him phone and he looks at it as well.

“How in the fuck is the Amazon title match above my match? Those cunts”

Molly smacks him arm hard, “Trent Jones that is not acceptable in 2020. These women deserve respect.”

Oh shit had Trent Jones not realized tat Molly was a feminist and was going to want to change him or was she just a good person. Trent was already moving past this and they get ready for the next battle with Greg and syb.

Trent kisses Molly and he walks out into the church. He sits down on the altar in the big chair to do some thinking.

******

The video jumps ahead and the SWAT title sits on the altar. On the left side of the church is a picture of valentine face with candles that are all burnt out. Next to that is psychotic goth picture and the candles are burnt out on it as well. Trent Jones is standing looking at valentine.

“You see valentine you were the original victim, the man that would drop the title to me. You play a role though in the reign of Trent Jones. You see the pale one picture here and next who knows whose photo will go next to the pale one but instead we have to see Trent Jones and Eddie D vs the old talent yet again. I admit you got the best of me when Ray Ray had me worried about Molly. But things are great with me and Molly and I am focused on being the best. I will make up this loss to Eddie D.”

Trent walks back towards the altar and he sits down. Molly walks out and she looks at the church and sees that Trent has started cleaning it up. She notices the pictures and she sees the empty spot he has set up for his next title defense. She then walks over to valentine photo

“Watching you beat valentine was priceless. I was with a few of my girlfriends and we cheered you on. I then told the girls I had to see you again… so we ordered my ticket and… we’ll you know how that ended.”

Molly walked towards Trent, “I think we need to take the cross down so this place doesn’t become sacreligious.” Molly wasn’t a bible humper but she also was a believer and she knew when her parents came to visits they wouldn’t like it.

************
Trent is sitting outside at night looking out at the old graveyard that he is now responsible to upkeep. He seems to be deep in thought and is having a conversation with himself.

“Damn I still don’t understand how Eddie D knew I was here and that Ray Ray was about to be killed. I guess I owe him and I am sorry… but then again I am really not that sorry.” Trent thinks for a few seconds and continues, “how would have Eddie D known?”

Trent looked around and then he made eye contact with the camera man. It was as if a flood gate had opened… Trent laughed. “So you called Eddie D and told him?”

The camera shook his head no, as Trent walked towards him, Trents cells phone would ring.

Trent answered the call, “not now Alex I have a camera guy……. wait you have them sending you a live feed of what I am doing… yes I know your my lawyer and… this is not ok”

Eddie rolls up in his bike and Trent sees him coming. “Alex, this isn’t over, but right now Eddie is here. I’ll speak to you later.”

Eddie bowls up all smiles but senses Trent isn’t in the best of moods “Hey Big Guy, big match coming up. Why the long face?”

Trent squares up to Eddie “Why are you talking with Alex behind my back?”

Eddie takes a half step back and mockingly throws his guard up “Are you going to kill me Mr Bones? Dude you need to stop chewing those happy pills. Reign in those crazy horses and be rational when your tag partner turns up.”

Trent takes a deep breath and looks Eddie square in the eyes “So are you denying that you spoke with Alex to find out I was going to kill Ray Ray?”

Eddie laughs and drops his mock guard “Trent, I saved you from a prison sentence. You can’t slip Molly a length of your donkey dick if you're doing 25 to life. If anything it was an act of charity for that girl.” Eddie senses that the tension hasn’t dropped even after his humour and changes tack “Look, Alex called me. He’s a lawyer, but he wants to hold on to this gang life and this resurgence in fortunes Champ. Feels like I’m doing all the work in this partnership and not getting the thank yous. I need you back on the ground, fighting with me in a few days against 110% and Valentine, so get off of that high horse and let's talk.”

Trent flexes his shoulder muscles and you can see the tension drop from him, as though he kicked a paranoia shaped demon to the back of his mind and a glimpse of a smile snuck onto his face. “So why are you here? I thought we were due to meet up at the club later.”

Eddie paces away from Trent back towards his bike excitedly “I wanted to show you my new bike?! Get a load of this bad boy!”

Eddie points at his bike and Trent walks over, checks it over as only an experienced biker could and stands up clearly impressed. “Where the hell did you get the money for this monster?”

Eddie smiles “Just came into some money. Can’t really share how, but Anarchy rocks sometimes and it’s definitely a cash business.”



Trent laughs, guessing where the money came and seems to finally be at ease in his tag partner’s company again “What did you get for trade in?”

Eddie scoffs “I kept the old one. Being THE Big deal in sports entertainment is paying real well. So can we talk about the big match? Texas has always been my second favorite state. Outside of my home state I don’t love fighting anywhere more. Can’t wait to get back there and kick arse in front of a crowd where half the marks are concealing a six shooter. It brings its own pressure to put on a good show. Certainly doesn’t hurt that we’re in a Texas Death Match.”


Trent looks at Eddie, “I fucking hate Texas it’s hot and full of cow shit, and when your not around cow shit it’s big cities full of people that can’t drive.”

Just then molly walked out, “I love Texas I went on a cruise out of Galveston after the wedding… oh never mind I don’t want to talk about him. Hey Eddie I like the new bike, Trent didn’t tell me you were coming otherwise I would have got out an extra steak.”

Trent looks at her, “I didn’t know either but I am glad he is here. Let’s go out tonight and have a great meal, me, my beautiful girl and my brother.”

Things were coming together for SWAT champion Trent Jones in wrestling and in life. This was the day that Trent realized he had more than just a guy as his partner. This was his brother someone that was actually looking out for him and Trent realized he needed to do the same. Trent didn’t just trust people outside of the Ryders.

Trent's focus was on destroying syb and valentine and he knew that he and his brother could do it. In Trents mind he knew Syb was the stronger talent the valentine. But he wasn’t looking past the man whose face sits on the wall of the church.

Trent and Eddie walked into the church. Eddie looked at the wall and the faces of them he had defeated in title matches. Eddie turned and saw two empty frames on the opposite wall.

Trent noticed that he had seen it, “Eddie those are where the faces go after we win the tag belts. First we defeat these 2 clowns again and then they have to give us a tag title match soon. Part of me feels bad that SWAT is holding us back because I am already the champ. But damn it put two belts on me and let us dominate both the singles and tag team.”

Trent turned back to Valentines picture and he chuckled, “he was so confident he was going to win, now look at him. I am sure he gained a little confidence back after his partner got the pin in the tournament and they won a cup. But look Valentine I still got the strap and you still are holding on to Syb sack. In the new era of SWAT we don’t have room for the talentless. I am going to end your hopes of ever being a star again.”

Trent touches the face of valentine, “you really are a giant bitch, I can’t believe this place ever used you as a headliner. I can’t wait to watch you fall apart after Brothers In Anarchy leaves you laying in the ring with another loss to Trent Jones and Eddie D.”

The scene fades out as Trent and Eddie continue talking.

[Blackstone]

Samuel Blackstone sat on the floor in a dark corner of the arena. He had a match against El Combatiente that this particular night, but one wouldn't be able to tell when looked at. He was obviously high. His eyes looked like glazed donuts. His beard was unkempt and drool was falling down the left side of his mouth. The extra money had been bringing in was clearly going to the wrong places. In his hand was a glass bottle in a brown paper sack. He took a drink and winced.

“Wooo weeee!” He yelled as the burning sensation hit his sweaty chest.

He only had a short time to get ready for his match. This was it. This was how he prepared for matches. While his opponent would be warming up, getting his muscles loose and ready, Samuel Blackstone was high and drinking.

Early in the week, he'd sent in his promo. It was never anything set up. It was always something from his daily life. He thought he could just record what he did day to day. Why bother censoring himself or coming off as fake? He could pretend to work out like Eddie D. He could act like a tough guy like Anthony Cafferey. But he didn't. He simply showed real things that happened to him. That was simply his way. Perhaps he just didn't know any better. If he did, he'd be warming up. But there he was, sitting in the darkest corner getting drunk before a fight.

“Y'all some dumbasses. I bet Elijah is back there talking that Hong Kong fuey bullshit to his guy. He's prolly go in on about how I'm gonna bend him over and rip his throat out through his asshole. and he'd be right. That's exactly what I'm gonna do. Why? It's simple. Im gonna do it because I can. I'm the hottest fucking thing going in SWET today. I'm it. I'm the bad guy. I'm the bad motherfucker. I'm badder than Tristan Jones and his buddy Edward W. I'm badder than that nerd bitch Ally Cafferey. I'm the real fuckin deal and the whole fuckin show.

I know they're back there watching me and bitchin about how I don't say their names and blah blah blah. I'm just sitting here wondering exactly why anything anybody says actually means anything. I mean..Alfred Cafferey knows he's a fucking bitch but he says he's this all powerful guy with a super calculator in his pocket. Edward F thinks his fat ass is strong when he's a fucking fat ass bitch. And Ellie Cumstain thinks I'm actually gonna take him. Wait. I'm def gonna do that.”

Sam took a drink from the bag.

“ What's it matter? This shit is about stompin teeth down throats. I'm lookin at you Lord Dwayne. Y'all see. Tonight I'm gonna stumble my ass out there. And I'm gonna shove both my feet up Eddie Cofields butthole like I said I was gonna do. The guy just bored me to tears. He just like the generic asshole you see in movies. Theres nothing behind him. Dudes like a fucking robot. I bet when he fucks and starts talking that gibberish to whatever tree has fucking, the tree just leaves. I'm not sure what that means but I can't take it back now. And I mean that. The guys just straight boring. Talk some God damn English ya pansy. We both know you can. You ain't {Mongo Edit: Nah we don't say that anymore} are ya? Fuck man. You can't be a smart man and rely on a prissy little bitch like that Jeremy guy to talk for you. You can't be a real man either. Real motherfucker speak for themselves. We don't go get some damn body else to do it for us.”

Sam got up and started to walk away. He stumbled a bit but otherwise walked ok.

“Your ass ends tonight, ellwood. It really does. You can bitch. You can moan. You can have your guy Jake do it for you. Ain't a damn thing gonna stop me from skull fucking you tonight.”

He heard his music hit. He turned the bottle up and threw the empty against a wall.

[lunchboxlarry]

[ Back to the back. ]

[ You know… the backstage. ]

[ That felt cooler in my head. ]

[ Whatever. Don’t mind me. ]

[ Our view glances by the scratched out Simply Speechless outside the door. On the inside, paces one half of SWAT’s newest tag teams still without an official name. He’s in his typical backstage gear; black sweats with orange, back to back Ls over the abdomen. From the short, shiny black beard to the slicked back, black hair… it’s obvious his pre-match shower is out of the way. ]

[ It should be noted that the lovable lug, also known as Lunchbox Larry, isn’t inspired by nerves this time, though. He’s just in the middle of call, and that’s what he does when he talks on the phone. ]

Lunchbox: Alright, but seriously, can you just put Aunt Seamus on the phone already? If I have to hear another story of how many ribs big, ol’ Uncle Will ate back in the day I might get even dumber.

[ Conveniently enough for our viewing and listening pleasure, instead of being a normal human being, Larry’s walking around with the call on speakerphone holding his cell maybe four or five inches from his ear. ]

Uncle William: Well lord knows you can’t afford that. Hold your horses just one sec and I’ll fetch him for ya.

[ Larry nods and smiles. He makes it around the locker room another time before a new voice comes across the speaker. ]

Aunt Seamus: Lar-Bear! What’s up, buttercup?

[ The greeting makes Larry chuckle every time. ]

Lunchbox: Oh, not too much. Just got a weird… thing, I guess… I dunno. Wanted to get your thoughts on something, if that’s okay?

[ Reading this line took way longer than Aunt Seamus’s quick retort. ]

Aunt Seamus: You’re not gay, Larry.

[ The tall, yet not as ridiculously height endowed as either of his upcoming opponents, SWAT star stops in his tracks. ]

Lunchbox: That wasn’t-

Aunt Seamus: OH, dearie me, sorry! Been ready with that one since I started watching you and that cute Jackson boy do your fighting thing for that place.

[ Larry’s face scrunches. He slowly begins to walk around the room again. ]

Lunchbox: So, anyway… long story short, I was having doubts about this whole wrestling thing, right? So I wrote a letter to Kirb.

Aunt Seamus: Kirb who, hun?

[ Larry bites his bottom lip before answering. ]

Lunchbox: The cute Jackson boy.

Aunt Seamus: OOH, go on!

[ Larry shakes his head, failing to contain a smile. ]

Lunchbox: Well, thing is… I left it wedged in Kirb’s locker so he’d get it. But I had a reserrrrrvay-, no… I had a relevation?

Aunt Seamus: A relevation.

Lunchbox: Yeah I had one of those, I think. It hit me that Kirbatron and I really had something going. I mean, the only team we’ve lost to were the Stylists. Don’t let the name fool you, Seamus. But they went on and won the whole Anzac Cup! When I really thought about it… if Kirbnation and I figured out a way to beat those guys… well who knows! Maybe we would not only be undefeated still, but we could be Anzac Cup… ians?! So I realized right then I’d let the negative nancies get a hold of my brainspace… and I had to snag that letter before the Kirb is the Word caught it, ya know?

[ The seconds of silence that ensued passed like hours to Larry. ]

Aunt Seamus: I have absolutely no clue what you just went on about, dear.

[ Larry stops his circular march once more and runs his free hand through his hair. ]

Lunchbox: I know. It’s complicated.

[ Shrill giggles come across the speaker, causing Larry to hold his cell a bit further away until they stop. ]

Aunt Seamus: One thing I do know, Lar-Bear, is if you’re going to be in a relationship… personal OR professional… you best be honest with your partner. You might think covering things up or hiding your feeling is the best path for now, but that’s only because it’s easier. And honestly that’s not exclusive to your partner. You gotta be honest with you, too.

[ Larry nods. ]

Lunchbox: You’re right.

Aunt Seamus: But it sounds like you figured it out. And you got your note before he did?

[ Larry grits his teeth, rubs the back of his neck, and starts to make a circle on the floor with the toe of his shoe. ]

Lunchbox: Seeeeeee, that’s the thing…

Aunt Seamus: Say you were drunk.

[ This time Larry’s got the quicker than this sentence-reading response. ]

Lunchbox: Kirb knows I can’t write when I’m drunk.

[ No argument from his relative. ]

Aunt Seamus: Maybe one of those other jealous beefcakes in the back? Those silly Satan boys? I bet you could say one of them wrote it! Although, I’m not sure they’re any smarter than-

[ Larry’s brows furrow and his blue eyes fire up. ]

Lunchbox: DON’T! [ now whispering ] who’s the dumb one now? Insulting a pair of gigantic, evil worshiping monsters?

[ The tone over the speakerphone turns stern. ]

Aunt Seamus: Despite being a bit weird, and more difficult to follow than your ramblings at their worst, they seemed innocent enough. Oddly polite for a couple named Doomsday and Lucif-

Lunchbox: STOP! Now’s not the time to make me think less of those two. They’re freakin’ HUGE! Part of what’s always helped with Kirbstomp and I is that I’m usually big enough to help make up for his small...ness… but regardless! Kirby didn’t even get the letter!

[ A brief pause. ]

Aunt Seamus: Then what the fuck’re you worried about?

[ Larry’s eyes pop. He’s not used to hear his uncle/aunt swear like that. ]

Lunchbox: I- uh… the letter wasn’t there. But Kirby said he didn’t have it, either. So like… why would a janitor or cleaning person take it? What if it shows back up? What if someone puts it up on the big screen when we come down to the ring?!

Aunt Seamus: Calm down, Lar-Bear. You’re heart’s in the right place. You’ll be fine. Just focus on those demon loving fakes. From the smell of the grill, I gotta get back to work.

[ Larry smiles. ]

Lunchbox: Whatcha cookin’?

Aunt Seamus: What else?! Ribs! Your Uncle William just LOOOOOOOOOOOOVES them! Makes him feel like a man when he’s ripping inta’em, ya know?

[ Larry shakes his head. ]

Aunt Seamus: Oh, and Lar-Bear…

Lunchbox: Yeah?

Aunt Seamus: Make those two big boys some extra Knuckle Sandwiches. They seem real hungry.

[ The smile across Larry’s face reaches both of his ears. ]

Lunchbox: I’ll make sure they're the same flavor next month, too!

[ He winks as the scene cuts. ]

[anthonycaffrey]

The Better Man

”My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark” by Fall Out Boy hits the speakers as the crowd pops loudly for the X-Crown champion. He emerges, already dressed to wrestle, and walks down to the ring giving fans socially-distanced fist bumps as he makes his way down the ramp. The Crown is around his face as he steps into the ring and is handed a microphone. He lets the crowd’s cheering die down before rallying it with a few flicks of his wrist. He then playfully brings the cheering to a stop.

“Oh look-- SWAT fans still wanna cheer me even though I’m not as good of a man as Death Trap. What a fuckin’ surprise!”

The crowd pops as it’s clear we’re getting a determined champion tonight. He stretches out his arms to mockingly soak it in for a few seconds.

“Oh Davey boy, as much as I appreciate you making this match a morality play, let’s be real-- you may be as pure and good as winter’s first snowfall, but that… that doesn’t mean shit tonight.”

He waves a finger like he’s Dikembe Mutombo.

“I knew going into this match you were a better man than me. Check the tape: I even said it before you bitched and moaned for twenty minutes about the past I’m already apologizing for.”

The crowd laughs.

“Actually-- more like you spent twenty minutes on the phone with some woman whose emails I’ve already deleted, as if anyone cares about Barbara from Lynnwood. I thought my Pixel was broken, because as I watched your promo, I was hearing you acknowledging that woman more than any of my accomplishments these past two years. It’s true -- I even double-checked that fact when I woke up on the backstage couch and peeled my phone off my giant forehead.”

Caffrey mockingly snores as the crowd continues to indulge his humor. The rings around his eyes reveal that he may not actually be joking all that much.

“Yeah, I was the Chief Asshole -- and now? Now I’m becoming a reformed asshole. I take pride in this: I’m no Chris Card. When I say I’m changing for the better, I actually do it -- everyone’s seen that, you’ve even admitted it yourself. But hey, if you want to stroke yourself on and on about how morally upstanding you are, let me be the first to congratulate you on two things."

Caffrey holds up one pointer finger. The crowd joins in, knowing where this is going.

“Number one: congrats on winning the Key to the Network next year. As someone who won the Kingpin award this year, I can tell you besides the sweet bonus, it’s really just a point of personal pride. It’s not so much a wrestling achievement. But hey, when you’re from MCCW -- the big-time achievements come few and far between, so of course you have to brag about shit that doesn’t matter.”

There’s a loud “OOOOOOOOH” coming from the crowd.

“MCCW has been open for over a year, David. Their biggest accomplishment since? It’s not coming in second at Call to Arms -- close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. It’s you winning the weakest EOD in XHF history.”

Caffrey retracts his finger for a few moments to read off of his palm.

“I had to write down these names because even though I’ve said ‘em before, they’re still so forgettable: Alexis Grace, Ai Moe, Duke Kosloff--- hi at home, Duke, hope that lifetime ban is treating you well. Real glad I don’t have to listen to you begging me to kick your ass for a fourth time.”

Everyone enjoys a free moment to clown Duke Kosloff.

“And Jeremiah Vastrix. That’s the four you beat. That finale night had great talents like Tommy Strychnine, Bloodied Fox, Dreadvan, Drago, and even Vin-Vin-Vincent Draven-- but NONE of them were competing in that tournament. And then you blew the X-Crown match End of Days entitled you to have, because as your random bashing of the wheel reminded us, you just can not close!”

Caffrey is on fire tonight as he’s ready to go.

“But hey, when the Network lights are shining their brightest, you’ll take your moral victories because let’s be honest: you and your girl can’t secure actual ones.”

Caffrey waves off the oohing crowd.

“I listened to you bragging about Mistress Discipline standing up to Hyperion and Jack Diamond -- David, standing up to them is not an achievement. Beating them is.”

Caffrey puts both of his hands up.

“I’m just sayin’, Dave. Within six months of being in the XHF, Destiny Wrestling captured the X-Crown. Within six months, SWAT captured the X-Crown. Meanwhile, MCCW’s been a part of the Network for over a year…”

He deliberately pauses. The crowd goes mild.

“...and nothin’.”

Caffrey waves another hand to stop himself.

“But wait wait wait you say-- didn’t Maverick win the X-Crown? Yeah. By joining the AWF and getting the hell away from you dragging down your entire company.”

He pulls for the camera to come in closer.

“Opportunity after opportunity you blew for ‘em. No wonder they won’t send you for Night of Champions when you blow this match tonight! It’s a little too late for Aleister Mayfield but good on him for finally realizing who’s actually a fucking company killer.”

Caffrey pauses as the crowd pops loudly again. He knows the words in his heart and rallies them off, barely taking the time to breathe. It becomes real apparent that Caffrey’s additional fire and venom have to do with his deep pride for his former company.

“Yeah, while you were busy blowing the hype for a Match of the Year candidate by having a dickmeasuring contest with Zoran about whose daddy was whose, and now as you try to have a dickmeasuring with me about who the better man is, I’ve been studying up on the decaying dickhead known as Death Trap. You think I forgot what you said about me killing AXW? Fuck no! Those words have been on my bulletin board for the past two months and I’ve been waiting every damn day to cripple you for them!”

As Caffrey recalls Death Trap saying he killed AXW, the X-Crown champion mimes breaking his opponent’s ankle like a twig.

“I never called MCCW unreal wrestling, but you’ll put those words in my mouth and wear them as a false point of pride. In reality, you’ve made a second career out of coming in juuuiuuuuussstttst above those expectations. You want me people to believe that wrestlers like Justice, Yamaguchi, and Thompson don’t have what it takes, and you don’t either. And as I learned the hard way with Vinny, being underestimated is an easy way to upset an opponent.”

Caffrey shudders.

“Problem is, Dave-- I know they all have what it takes. They have what it takes to live out nice long careers, win multiple MCCW World Heavyweight Championships, et cetera. Justice eliminated three people from the Rumble, after all. I know just how good they all are, and I know you’ve beaten them all. There will be no underestimating you. I know just who I’m getting into the ring with tonight.”

He leans into the microphone.

“There’ll be no underestimating… because I know I’m better.”

The crowd loudly cheers. Caffrey puts his finger back up.

“I was the first to congratulate you on winning next year’s Key to the Network, but tonight..”

He raises the second finger.

“...let me also be the first to congratulate you on getting both of your ankles broken.”

His middle finger is the only one that remains as the crowd roars.

“Dave, they say it’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than open your mouth and prove it. Here I was telling the world that I know I’m smarter than you, but after listening to you earlier, now the rest of the world knows it too. You glanced over my achievements, sure, but I think you forgot about a little submission hold that has made hundreds and hundreds of people tap out. I’m getting a sneaking feeling you don’t Trust the Process.”

He reaches down and taps his ankle.

“And maybe that’s because you don’t get sports references. I mean, what has Seattle had to be happy about sports-wise? I’m surprised no one’s pieced it together before me -- it’s not a Seattle Stretch to say you’ve got Seattle running through your veins like I have Philly in mine. The difference is that like the Eagles, I’m a world champion, while meanwhile both you and the Seahawks choke at the goalline.”

A few Dallas Cowboys fans boo, but most appreciate the roasting of the Seahawks.

“Dave, you’ve declined. You wanted to make this about how good of a person I am because when it comes to how good of a wrestler I am, I’ve got you beat. I’m at the top of my game right now and I’m not going home-- meanwhile, the last time you were at the top of your game, the SuperSonics still played in Seattle.”

Caffrey mockingly cringes as the crowd adds another “OOOOOH”. He holds up four fingers.

“Hell, it was four years before they even left town… they left in 2008. Oof.”

Caffrey rubs the imaginary salt off his shoulders.

“Yeah, you haven’t tapped since 2003, but I also think you haven’t met a true submission specialist like me since then. I don’t need forty different holds to beat ya -- as a certain Technical Perfection once said, I’ll get by just fine with a ‘good ankle lock’.”

Longtime Caffrey fans pop at the Diamonds are Forever reference.

“Dave, let me run something by you, something I don’t think you’re prepared for: tonight, I put you in the ankle lock in the center of this good ol’ SWAT ring… and yeah, ya don’t tap. Sure.”

He rolls his eyes, almost annoyed at his opponent’s reputation. His words quickly take a sharper angle.

“But what the fuck are you going to do when you only have one ankle to stand on and you have to wrestle me for another twenty minutes?”

The crowd cheers.

“What the fuck are you gonna do when you look up at the scoreboard, realize you’re already down one, and the lights get a little too bright because even your stupid hat couldn’t save you from the Brotherly Love?”

The cheering gets louder.

“I mean, we all know what you do when the lights are on at their brightest, but let’s keep going--”

Caffrey puts another hand out.

”What are you gonna do when you wake up and have to book a dentist appointment to replace the three teeth I knocked outta your face with my elbow?”

He slams his elbow as the cheering continues to build.

“What are you gonna do when you Cut the Strings on me and I end up pulling a Kate Winslet, posing like one of those French girls? What are you gonna do when the clock is running out, and try as you might, you just can’t keep these shoulders pinned down to the mat for three seconds?”

He counts up to three -- one, two, no! Another middle finger. Caffrey pulls down the mask to display his showman smile for the crowd eating from the palm of his hand right now.

“Hey Dave… these question aren’t rhetorical. I will do almost anything to beat you tonight and you can be damn sure you aren’t leaving with the Crown without putting me in the hospital. Do yourself a favor and get off your moral fucking high horse and start preparing for our match before your hopes of capturing the Crown end up being sent to the glue factory like Linda’s were.”

Caffrey resists the urge to make horse noises this time. He finally takes a deep breath.

“I say almost anything because there’s one thing I won’t do tonight: cheat. You’re not goading me into not cheating, David -- I don’t need to do it to beat you. I’ve beaten more X-Crown champions than anyone on the SWAT roster, I held a world championship longer than anyone else in recent memory, and most of that… most of that was just when I was a giant jackass.”

Caffrey nods, admitting his fault.

“And hey-- I might still be one. I’m still learning. I'm learnin' every day. I’ve been learning from different communities, keeping my ears open and even sometimes shutting my mouth, trying to be a role model and doing the right thing for the first time in a very, very long time. Besides the fashion choices, you obviously think you’re perfect and therefore untouchable -- but if you ever get a chance to break out of that box, have yourself a look around. You’re not only in the land of opportunity, but you’re in America: the land of second chances. Back then, I relied on skill and cheating to get me through main attraction matches like this one. I walked into arenas all over the world with thousands of people booing me, and I got the job done. Now? Now I got a second chance, and I’m not about to let that slip. I’m not going to let this hourglass run of sand-- this means too much to me. These people-- and their support-- mean too much to me. This X-Crown means the world to me. And so, these days, these days are different than the past -- I’m relying on my skill and their support to get the job done now. And excuse me for me tellin’ ya something you already know, Dave -- walking into arenas with thousands of people cheering you is a helluva lot better than people booing.”

Caffrey gulps as the SWAT crowd lets out a loud cheer one more time. He runs an arm over his eyes and keeps going.

“Dave, tonight, tonight I hope you’re a man of your word. When the countdown clock hits zero, if you can still stand when I’m done with you, I’ll have my hand out and ready. I just have one more question…”

He looks directly into the camera with passion in his eyes. He moves the microphone to his left hand.

“...tonight, when the better man loses to the better wrestler, are you still gonna shake my hand?”

The crowd cheers as Caffrey drops the microphone. The last thing we see is the X-Crown champion with his hand out, theoretically waiting for his handshake, as the camera cuts back to the commentary booth.

[SWAT Team]

Nimbooda hits and Rajiv Khan drives his taxi to the ring, he gets out of it and slaps a few fans hands and enters the ring.

Frank Salazar : The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall. Introducing first, currently in the ring, hailing from Mumbai, India. Coming in at 5’9 and 222 pounds ..... RAJIV KHAN!!!!

"Bad Motherf×cker" blares as the cameras show the entrance way. A black silhouette is seen and its massive. The veil drops and we see Kristian Bane, a massive man who is completely awe inspiring. To his side is Eli Levi, his father. Eli talks into the camera "You're looking at the future of SWAT! Kristian Bane baby!" As Bane gets into the ring and pyros shoot off.

Frank Salazar : And introducing his opponent, hailing from parts unknown, coming in at a huge 6‘5 and 325 pounds .... KRISTIAN BANE!!!!

Jeremy Tucker : Bane making his SWAT debut here against SWAT Stalwart Rajiv Khan.

Andrew Fulton : Stalwart? The guy has never won a match, not ONE!

Jeremy Tucker : Maybe tonight that will change.

Andrew Fulton : Are you crazy, take a look at this newcomer Bane, he is totally jacked!

Jeremy Tucker : Referee Vick Mackey calls for the bell and we are under way, Rajiv tries to jumpstart proceedings with a running clothesline, but Bane no sells it and Khan bounces off him.

Andrew Fulton : Khan charges in again and Bane launches him over his head with a big back body drop!

Jeremy Tucker : Stiff right hand by Bane, and another.

Andrew Fulton : Goes for a third and Khan ducks under it and delivers a side kick to the knee, which fells the big man down to one knee.

Jeremy Tucker : Khan reverse snap mares Bane! He just sent the back of his head hard into the mat there, Khan is thrilled with himself, and mounts the second turnbuckle, posing for the fans.

Andrew Fulton : The match isn’t over yet!

Jeremy Tucker : Khan steps up onto the top rope and as Bane gets back to his feet, Khan jumping back elbows him in the head. Khan then goes to work on the legs of the big man, stretching him and dropping a leg on the knee after twisting it.

Andrew Fulton : What are we witnessing here? Rajiv is bringing IT!

Jeremy Tucker : Khan again twists the leg of Bane, spinning it around, but Bane powers out, kicking Khan away.

Andrew Fulton : Bane gets to his feet, gingerly, and Khan runs off the ropes and flies at Bane with a flying body press, but Bane catches him and plants him with a big Dominator!

Jeremy Tucker : Bane keeps stretching out the leg, then grabs Rajiv Khan and plants him with a brutal head butt, he seems real angry and is none too pleased with Rajiv’s flurry of offense.

Andrew Fulton : SPINEBUSTER! Bane with a Spinebuster! This is looking ominous.

Jeremy Tucker : Bane irish whips Khan into the ropes, he bounces off them and Bane near takes his head off with a brutal BIG BOOT!

Andrew Fulton : DEATH VALLEY DRIVER!

Jeremy Tucker : He calls that the Chaos Theory! This is over. Cover by Bane ................

One ...................

Two ....................

THREE!!!!!!!!!

Andrew Fulton : Impressive debut that, looking forward to seeing where this guy goes in the future.

Jeremy Tucker : Khan tried his best, i was almost convincing myself for a second he had a chance there, his day will come, and let’s see how Bane goes against some of the bigger stars here in SWAT.

Frank Salazar : WINNER OF THE MATCH .... THE CREATOR OF CHAOS! KRISTIAN BANE!!!

[Justin]

Nope.

Not gonna do it.

Wouldn’t be prudent.

Dana Carvey’s satirical words in his caricature of George H.W. Bush is my exact thoughts when it comes to getting into the ring with two guys that are both the size of four of me and three of Larry combined. Speaking of Larry, I haven’t. Spoken to Larry, that is. Not since I left the building at last week’s Battleground.

That, in and of itself, is a hefty reason why there is no prudence in stepping into the ring with Lucifer and Doomsday. Satan’s Disciples, they’re called. Fuckin’ Christ, this ain’t what I signed on for when I got into this crazy ass business. But then again, isn’t it?

To do battle with those larger than life in both stature in personality, all for the glory and the gold of it all, that’s what the business is about, right? I knew that then as well as I know it now but that whole larger than life schtick is supposed to stop at guys Larry’s size, right?

Right?

No?

Fuck.

Doomsday.

Lucifer.

Satan’s Disciples.

I’ve been against tag teams that weren’t as big together as either of those two monsters are by themselves. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got the smarts and I’ve got the speed and I pack a pretty mean punch (and kick) to boot, but what in fuck’s name am I supposed to do against 7’3” and 390lbs? Or even 7’1 and 330lbs for that matter?

What.

In.

The.

FUCK?

Am I scared? Well, yeah, who in their right mind wouldn’t be? I bet those two big bastards snack on death and dine on danger, know what I mean? But that’s not even the fuckin’ crux of the problem. The fuckin’ issue here is I haven’t even spoken to my partner in over a week. And not that he hasn’t called. He has. And texted, in his weirdly elementary and completely lower-case and non-punctuated way…

But I haven’t answered.

I keep reading this stupid note, over and over.

I can’t let it go.

The dude was gonna take a walk, leave me high and muh-fuggin’ dry, and then where would I be? Back at the starting line? Singles matches to jerk the curtain while the big stars are busy signing 8x10 glossies or hitting up Catering? I can’t…

I just can’t.

Kirby Jackson is a tag team wrestler.

I have to talk to Larry. I need resolution if I’m gonna trust him enough to go to war with those two giant devil worshippers that we’re booked against.

So with that in mind I’m strolling through the myriad hallways that make up the “backstage” area of whatever building we’re at this week. I could’ve called Larry or just, you know, answered the phone at any point this week, but that was too much like logic and I’ve been making a pretty good living steering clear of that for as long as I could remember.

I make a left just before I make a right. Now, my left should be on the right if my left’s right, right? Before I give up, lost to the amazing maze forever, I stumble on a door with the Simply Speechless scratched out logo printed cheaply on a piece of office paper and taped to it at eye level. Chuckling, I can’t help but to wonder how the fuck that thing keeps finding its way from building to building, week in and week out.

Just before I kick the door open and Kool-aid Man my way in to see if I can scare the fuck out of Larry, my stomach turns just a little. That nagging voice comes back. I reach into my back pocket and pull the note out for the billionth time. It’s crumpled to all hell, but Larry’s blocky penmanship is right there staring at me, big as life, just like Doomsday and Lucifer.

Dear Kirby,

I'm sorry.

The doorframe shakes and the knob rattles and I barely have time to jam that crumpled piece of paper back into my pocket before I’m standing face to collar-bones with my partner for the first time since I’d left the ring last week. I let my glance fall on his face and I should have recognized it before it happened, but I was out of practice with my Larryisms having not seen him in so long that I forgot he was a hugger.

A big hugger.

Larry bearhugs me, arms and all, and he squeeze and lifts and hugs me tight enough to give me the spinal adjustment that I didn’t know I needed until just now.

“KIRBY!”

To say he was happy to see me would be a vast understatement.

“I’M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU!”

See what I mean? He shakes me a little more and lets me go, but not before bodily pulling me into our dressing room and clapping me on the shoulder with one of those catcher’s mitt hands of his.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Kizzurb, I thought I was gonna have to go out there and dish these Knuckle Sammies out to the Brute Squad all by myself!”

After I’ve caught my breath, I do my best to get right to the point.

“Listen,” I start, “Larry, we gotta talk.”

He puckers his face quizzically.

“Sure, ah, Kirb…” He knows I know. “Whaddaya, ah, you know, wanna talk about?”

It’s written all over his face. Either he knows I know, or he thinks I know. Or, more likely, he thinks I know but doesn’t know because if he knew then he would’ve already said something, right?

I was overthinking again.

Also slightly hyperventilating.

“It’s…” I trail off. “I mean…”

His eyes soften, even now he’s trying to figure it out to fix whatever it is that needs fixing, even though it’s becoming clearer by the moment that he’s as confused as a raccoon trying to wash cotton candy.

A lightbulb goes off over my head.

Not really, pay attention.

“Listen, Lar.” I nod, he smiles. “Sorry I’ve been off the grid this week. Personal shit. Won’t happen again, Scout’s honor.”

Larry smiles, a weight lifts off of his shoulders.

“No, yeah, that’s great! I mean it’s-”

“It’s cool, Lar, don’t try too hard to figure it out.”

“Whatever you say, Kirb-a-tron!”

“So look.”

I deadpan to the best of my ability.

“After we go out there and probably die against those two Teenage Mutant Ninja Street Sharks, we should scrape our asses up off the canvas and go have ourselves a brewski or fourteen.”

“Apiece?”

“You’re goddamned right!”

“HECK YES!”

I can’t help but to smile at his enthusiasm.

“Alright, Lar, good man! It’s me and’ you, back together an’ better than ever! You keep me from dying out there tonight and I swear on my entire reputation I’ll get you laid tonight! Deal?”

Lunchbox Larry blushes seven shades of red.

“Deal,” he giggles.