[Fenris]

 <img align=left src= "http://www.geocities.ws/scwmaterial/Pictures/Fenris9.jpg" height=431 width=547>"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown."
King Henry IV - Shakespeare

The saying was known well enough, even by Kristjan Baltasarsson who never really considered himself to be the intellectual type. He will freely tell anyone that it was his brother Aron who was the collegiate type, not him. It was Aron who spoke three different languages fluently, including his own. Aron who was the only member of his family who attended college and aced some difficult science related classes that he tried to discuss with his older brother and left Fenris feeling as if he were still in grade school as a result. Yet still the famous Shakespearean quote rang true in the ears of the brand new World Heavyweight Champion, and none more so than in the immediate aftermath of his championship victory at Summer XXXTreme VI.

07/22/2018
The grand finale event of the Summer XXXTreme cruise had just reached its zenith, and the crowd was far too hyped up from the excitement that they had witnessed over the course of the last five plus hours. And the main event, the match to determine the brand new World Champion had just concluded. It had not lasted as long as many had envisioned when Ty West won the Ultimate X battle royal earlier in the night, but the match length did not deter from the level of excitement that either man contributed to the hard fought contest. If anything, the determination on the part of both men actually led to the match to be shorter than anticipated as neither man would last long as hard as they were handing it out to one another. It was just a matter of who wanted it more, and in the end, Fenris's determination not to be shown up on such a stage allowed him that final blow to lay Ty out and cover him for the inevitable count of three.

There would be no excuses this time. No denials over who was the better man. Ty had not passed out in a submission hold, nor was he rendered unable to continue such as what happened to Kyle Kavanagh several weeks ago. There was no disputing the victory. Fenris pinned Ty in the center of the ring to win the figurative crown, and walked away with his head held high. proud that he had accomplished what he had known he would from the moment he and Courtney Pierce had won the Blast From the Past.

So why the unease?

That was easy enough, as Aron had led him through the backstage curtains, his brother's arms and shoulder offering physical support. Ty West may have lost the match but in no way, shape or form did he leave any doubt that he put Fenris through a hard fight to earn that gold. Fenris had half expected to be met by the roster to offer him congratulations, or at the very least, the staff, but there was very little to be had. The bosses, both Mark Ward and Christian Underwood, were there as was to be expected, but he had heard from various sources that it was customary to congratulate a new champion for ascending. But for him? Nothing.

He didn't let it show on his face, the disappointment or confusion, but it was there. Perhaps the only person who could tell was Aron, whop had this annoying habit of being able to read him like an open book, even when he himself had closed the pages. All this reception, or lack thereof, did was bring Gabriel's words back to haunt him;

"Nobody likes you!"

Fenris could still hear the words ringing in his ears, heralded by Gabriel's distinct British accent. And all (or mostly) because he had yelled at little Despayre during that disastrous birthday party thrown in his honor. But, he had apologized for that, didn't he? Okay, so he did so mostly at the urging of Mikah, but he had the smallest sensation of regret at his actions that would have (probably) caused him to do so anyway. Especially when he realized the level of his actions, when he had angered not only Despayre's rather formidable father, but also the Stevens, resulting in his banishment from their training facility. But he had apologized for his actions, so everything would be kosher, right? He was Gabriel and Odette's newest star, another student of theirs that had risen quickly to claim world championship gold, so that was something for them to be proud of, right?

Not necessarily.

Fenris was prepared to bypass the cordoned off area for the wrestlers and head straight to his cabin to shower and change, but fate had intervened to a small degree, as the previously mentioned Despayre was sipping along the hallway with Synn bringing up the rear. As he did so, Despayre looked at the Baltasarsson brothers with a bright smile that seemed perpetual and saluted Fenris without so much as stopping and he continued on along his path. Synn, however, did not pause or even dignify their presence. Fenris watched them go and turn a corner on the ship's backstage area set aside for the occupation of SCW's roster and staff. Fenris then glanced at his brother who shared the same perplexed expression that he was certain he wore now. They shared a mutual shrug of not understanding before they went to continue their path, the younger brother following the elder as was expected, when they were called to a stop.

"Fenris!"

"Fenris, please! A moment!"

Fenris turned around, an annoyance just below the surface, always threatening to erupt, slowly surfacing. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, before he exhaled and turned around -- and was promptly blinded by a glaring flash from a camera.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, shielding his eyes briefly with his forearm before he slowly lowered it, squinting and blinking away those dancing lights that afflicted the eyes when a bright light had been shined in them. Aron laid a hand on his shoulder to calm and/or restrain him as he was suddenly besieged by a small number of reporters that had been on hand for this event, covering it for the various wrestling magazines and websites that fed the rabid wrestling community all of the info it desired. Fenris wanted to do nothing more than to kick the camera right out of that bastard's hands, but he felt like he was in enough trouble with his peers and bosses, and Aron was right there.

Besides, he knew from the moment he won the gold that the press would be a necessary evil, as it were. Plus, it was nice being given at least some attention.

"Sorry!" The offending reporter said as he lowered his camera. "I just wanted to capture that first moment with you as champion!"

"How does it feel?" Another reporter asked. "The newest to hold the SCW World title!"

This was all happening too quickly, that Fenris was having a time catching the words with his own limited English. Aron translated for him quickly and Fenris shifted the championship belt over his shoulder and looked at the row of men and women gazing upon his expectantly and shrugged.

"It was not Kris Ryans." He answered. "But it was an accomplishment."

"What does that mean?" Another asked. "Are you saying that because you were wrestling against Ty West instead of Kristopher Ryans, that the win meant less?"

Fenris frowned and said, "It did mean less, but not in way you think. Or try to imply. Ty West was not the champion. Kris Ryans was. I did not get to fight Kris like I was supposed to. Ty earned his spot and fought hard. He earned my respect -- FINALLY -- but I wanted Kris in the ring. Only proper way to win a championship is to beat a champion."

He shook his head.

"I did not do that. I am the champion, but I won't be happy until I have Kris in the ring. This..." He patted the golden central plate of the SCW title belt. "... will mean far more to me when that match finally happens."

Another reporter asked, "Do you have other aspirations besides facing Kris Ryans for the title to settle things between you? Any other men you'd like to have in the ring?"

This question gave Fenris pause, as deep down he respected the majority of the men's division in SCW. He just had a difficult time to express that in words. He thought for a moment and the first name that came to mind was brought about, "Ben Jordan."

"He's the brand new Roulette Champion!" A reporter pointed out, to which Fenris gave a curt nod.

"I am aware." Fenris stated. "Does not mean I can not or would not want to face him. I have wanted to ever since I came here. Ben Jordan was the first name on the list of men I wanted to fight. Titles or no."

"Any others?"

Fenris gave pause and then nodded, "Crimson." And this statement was met with startled glances as few competitors openly wanted to face the man known as Crimson inside of the ring willingly. Before any might ask as to how or why, Fenris removed all doubt and shook his head, "Champion is only as good as challengers. Crimson keeps winning, so shouldn't I wrestle him?"

He shook his head, his eyes roaming along the row of reporters as if silently daring them to contradict his answer to their own queries. When prodded for any more names, Fenris allowed himself to indulge them with names of Superstars he would like to face, whether it be for his gold or no. Names such as Dmitri and Casey Williams followed. Jon Dough and hell -- even another rematch against Ty West was not out of the question as far as the champion was concerned.

"Just put me against whoever." Fenris stated with supreme confidence. He was the champion now. He had that right to feel that way, after all. "I do not intend to lose my streak any time soon."

That being said, Fenris took it upon himself to end this impromptu post-victory press conference and walk away, leaving the questions still being called out by the reporters laying in his wake. After that, Fenris pretty much got what he had wanted; self imposed isolation. He had showered, taken some aspirin for the way his body had been beaten black and blue by Ty, and had prepared to just grab a bottle of whatever and drink himself stupid, had it not been for Aron's intervention. That was the duty of younger siblings, after all; to interfere with the elder's wishes in favor of their own. And what Aron wanted was for Fenris to come celebrate at the Riviera Bar, one of several aboard the cruise ship where fans and wrestlers alike would be celebrating not only a show well done by all, but the end of the annual cruise. Its 'climax,' if you would not mind the pun.

Fenris had finally relented, knowing full well Aron would not let up until he had. Threats didn't work with his brother, as he knew full well how empty they were. And locking him out of hi cabin was out of the question as Aron had the spare key just in case of emergency. So there he was, seated beside Aron on the patio deck bar with several fans eagerly seeking out wrestlers who they knew for certain were, by tradition, celebrating the show somewhere on the ship!

Although he wondered why he had bothered because as far as his peers were concerned, any handshakes or words of congratulations were as bare and void as they were backstage after his win. As a matter of fact, the only person who had given him even the remotest sense of good will was Ben Jordan himself, who had first offered him his congratulations, only to turn it around into some form of joke at his expense. The fans, however? They were another response altogether.

"Congratulations!"

"Can I get your picture? Please?"

"The White Wolf! Arooo!" Yes, one drunkard actually HOWLED at him and then laughed as if he really believed he had been the first. More requests came, and one fan even lifted her Summer XXXTreme VI shirt in full view of the entire bar to ask Fenris to "sign her tits." A request he turned down coldly and left her red faced and hurrying back to her friends in a walk of shame. It seemed unfair to him, that he fought hard to try and win the respect of his "brothers and sisters" in wrestling like he had in his MMA days, but he had been largely unsuccessful. He had walked into SCW with high praise from men such as Gabriel and Daniel Morgan, only to have that praise cut to that of disappointment and avoiding of him at all costs.

The fans, however? Well even Fenris was surprised to discover that even he had a fan base, mostly children, who flocked to him eagerly for a moment of his time. Kids were not present in the bar of course, but he still spent time exchanging words with some adult fans and indulging them with a picture or scrawling his name on an 8x10 glossy. One alcohol-imbued female fan had even cuddled up to him for a photo op and slid her hand down below his waist, seeking an answer as to whether he did in fact deserve that Mister Tight Buns award that Brittany Williams had bestowed upon him earlier in the week.

Needless to say, he was anxious to get off of this goddamn ship and return to Las Vegas where he could rest and recuperate where he wouldn't get groped  by some rabid fan. There were others he would rather have that luxury, but that was an entirely different story.



The entire time that Kristjan and Aron had been traveling along this (Fatal) Attractions tour, they had been doing so by train because Aron had always wanted to do so. Say what you will, but Fenris loved his family (or at least most of them) and felt a special connection toward his only brother in a family of sisters, and thus felt the desire to indulge him every now and then. So that was also how they were to return to Las Vegas, only this time they were doing so directly as it was such a short trip. Less than seven hours.

The Sun Princess had embarked at Los Angeles, the very same port it had set off from, and after many well wishes and farewells, Fenris had pried Aron away from everyone to hop in a cab and run to the Union Station for the ride home, anxious to simply get away. And that was where the brothers and Fenris's beloved Kyssa were currently, seated aboard Amtrak in a reserved passenger car for privacy. Aron's head rested against the window pane to his right, as he dozed away, not having slept comfortably the previous night. As Fenris idly scratched Kyssa behind the ears while her head rested on his lap, following Aron's example for a snooze, Fenris used his free hand to idly browse the Internet on his phone, looking for something, anything, to catch his interest in order to help pass the time. It was also when he was caught by surprise by the tell-tale ringing tone that heralded a video chat request.

By instinct alone his thumb moved toward the 'decline' button when he caught himself, citing the name of his own mother on the other end, Eva Baltasarsson. He had not seen her personally since she had been brought in as a surprise for both he and Aron by Gabriel for Mother's Day. Given his wretched nature, the smile that he felt crease his lips was a welcome change. One that seemingly only his mother and bay sister Freyja seemed to inspire in him.

He quickly hit the 'accept' button and quick as a wink, the chat window opened and his lovely mother's face filled the screen.

"Hi sweety!" She said in their shared native language as she spoke no English. A welcome change then for Kristjan so he wouldn't have to struggle through his own English and feel the part of the fool for doing so. She went on to ask, "Where are you?"

"On the train for Las Vegas." Kristjan answered softly so as not to startle Aron awake needlessly. No more so risking than he already had at his sibling's expense. He then shook his head and sighed, "I can not wait. It's been a very long week!"

"Oh, poor Kristjan." Eva made a pouty look of sympathy, one that had the desired effect by making her antagonistic oldest boy snort back a laugh. Somehow that was just an effect a mother had on her child. "Are you on a train again?" To this, Kristjan simply nodded. Eva then glanced about the screen as if she were looking for something by his person until she asked, "Where's your brother?"

Smiling, despite himself, Fenris turned the phone just enough so as Eva could see her baby boy -- and what Kristjan had done to amuse himself. Namely he had breathed heavily on a spoon he had "borrowed" from the dining car and stuck it on Aron's nose. He had then taken a photograph of it for "later," but it was enough to make their mother shake her head and cluck her tongue when he turned the phone back around.

"One of these days, Kristjan, he's going to get you for doing things like that."

Kristjan just shrugged, falling back to that cocky grin that drove those around him nuts. He said simply, "He can try." Fully aware that whatever Aron threw his way, he could beat tenfold. It was then that Eva looked at her son, I mean really looked at him, and her lovely, Icelandic features slid into one of concern and she asked, "What's the matter?"

Kristjan's eyes opened slightly wider in surprise. Not so at the question itself. That was a mother for you. But more so that even at a distance of well over four thousand miles, she could sense something was amiss. Still, his pride was there and he refused to give his mother any cause for alarm, stating with a shake of the head, "Nothing Mamma. I'm fine." He then tilted his head and gave her that knowing smile, adding, "I am a champion now, after all."

It was clear to him by the raised brow that Eva did not entirely believe him, but he also knew she wouldn't press. Every time his mom or dad tried to press him into sharing his emotions, it always ended up in the same result; he retreated further into himself. She was confident that with time, he'd open up. He always did.

"Your father and I are so proud of you." Eva smiled. "It hurt to see my boy fighting like that. But I was so thrilled when you won."

"You watched?" Fenris was openly skeptical, knowing full well how barbaric his mom felt about any form of contact sport. She never watched a single one of his MMA fights. She would be off in the house doing something else when he was fighting, but would never fail to inquire how he did the moment his match was over. He figured she'd keep that same routine when he ventured into professional wrestling. "You?"

Eva shrugged, but conceded to her son's doubt. She answered, "I wasn't exactly planning to. But your father and sisters were watching and I figured..."

Eva sighed, knowing full well the high level of animosity that existed between Kristjan and his older sisters, Elin and Vikoria. She said, "Yes. I think even your father and Freyja were surprised when they came in and sat down to watch."

"They probably were hoping to watch me lose." Kristjan mumbled, but Eva overheard and she mused, "Freyja said the exact same thing, but I don't know. I saw them both tense when you took those hard shots. Almost as much as your mother! Freyja almost hit the roof when you won." Fenris beamed at hearing the pride his baby sister took in his victory as Eva embellished, "She cheered louder than your father or me."

"And the other two?" Fenris probed, to which his mom answered, "They really didn't show much of a reaction." She admitted. "Probably because they both knew Freyja would tell you the first chance she got. But I did overhear Elin tell one of her friends on the phone about her brother who was now a world champion."

Kristjan turned his head, having caught sight of Aron slowly stirring from the corner of his eye. He said, "I think you're blowing smoke up my ass Mamma, but it's still a better reception than I've gotten so far."

To this statement, Eva frowned and Kristjan realized what he had said. He then smiled and said, "I think A is about to wake up, and better let Kyssa stretch her legs. Call you tomorrow?"

"You better." Eva warned. "Your father wants to see you too."

"Love you." Fenris stated without a trace of embarrassment at displaying affection towards his mother.  She kissed her fingers and bid him farewell with a wave and replied, "Love you too, sweety." And that  being said, the screen on his phone went dark, the call having ended. He leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers idly through Kyssa's soft, snow-white fur. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to follow his brother's example.

There were times when a mother's love could be the most effective mood control.



Las Vegas
Time continues to flow from where we sit as spectators, watching the comings and goings of those that put their bodies on the line, all in the name of entertainment. But even after he and Aron had returned to Las Vegas, Fenris came to the startling realization that being world champion for SCW meant that you were not afforded the same time off as others who worked under that banner. Not even two days after they hit Vegas, that Fenris found himself doing his first online podcast interview. Then the following day, he had to arrive early at the SCW studio bright and early for a photography session; just him and his newly won championship belt.

He used this schedule as an excuse as to why he had not reached out to Gabriel and Odette to hopefully smooth things over so he might return to their training facility. The simple fact was; he needed them. He needed what they offered their students, both in-training and graduates. He had no idea how he would manage to continue his training while avoiding Maksym without the Stevens. And now that he had the top championship, it was vital that he continue on and even improve upon his training.

So he opted to put his free-time to constructive use -- at least until he could find a way to further mend burned bridges. He had taken a liking to Japanese animation, or anime, and was seated back on the sofa in his and Aron's condo. A beer in one hand, his phone in the other, while his eyes watched the antics on the HDTV. Aron had taken one look at what Kristjan was doing and did an immediate about face and walked right back into his bedroom and shut the door behind him. Hey! Just because Kristjan didn't fully understand what was being said on the shows didn't mean they couldn't still be entertaining, right?

He has just about to put his phone away and reach for the remote when it started to vibrate, almost startling him to dropping it on Kyssa's backside. Who the hell would be calling him? Gabriel perhaps? Courtney...? He glanced at the screen and was startled to see that it was none other than Kris Ryans calling him. Did they exchange numbers after they had ... well, you know! And if they did ... why? Was it an invitation by one of them to possibly revisit their previous encounter? Maybe it meant nothing and they were both just too damn wasted to remember handing out numbers and why... Oh well! Only one way to find out...

He hit the receive button and spoke into it, "Halló?"

"It's about damn time!" The voice he knew full well belonged to none other than Kristopher Ryans came from the other end of the call, wherever he might be. "I was about to hang up."

"Damn." Fenris spoke with a faux tone of morose quality. "I would have thoroughly beaten myself for missing you."

"Tell me something I don't know." Kris stated without missing a beat, confident in himself as much as Fenris himself, only not quite as annoyingly brazen in being so. He then asked, "Saw your match of course. How does it feel to be walking around with my championship?"

"My championship." Fenris quickly corrected him. Adding with a smile, "Any time you want it, though, all you have to do is take it."

"Hm!" Kris scoffed. "Where did I hear you say that before?" Fenris frowned, and stared momentarily at the phone. A victim of Kris's sense of humor or caustic wit, or perhaps both? Kristjan was uncertain but he then spoke again and asked, "Did you want something?"

"You seen the next show yet?" Kris asked over the phone. "If not, you probably will want to."

With a free hand, Fenris reached over to grab Aron's tablet and turned it on. Scrolling through until he reached the SCW's official website, he clicked on the link for the next card's lineup. His eyes ran down the lineup with barely a care until he happened upon the next to last match, and his eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed into slits.

"What -- the fuck!?"

"Thanks." Kris replied with a mock coyness that you could practically see his smirk through the phone. "It'll be a real pleasure to team with you too."

"Tag team match?" Fenris replied, all but ignoring what Kris had stated. "I thought my next match would be a defense. Maybe against Ty or..."

"Me?" Kris answered for him, knowing that Fenris had not been pleased with the way he had won his championship. Kris went on, "I think this is just Mark and Christian's way of screwing with us. And with Ben and Crimson since those two have a boner to get in the ring. two big title matches, so make one huge ass tag team match to mess with them all!"

Fenris continued to stare at the match listing. Fenris and Kristopher Ryans versus Ben Jordan and Crimson. It was a dream match, to be certain. Fenris admitted into the phone for Kris's benefit, "Maybe won't be so bad. Not so much a shock as it will be to Ben and Crimson..." But whatever he was going to finish with was lost as kris started chuckling on his end.

"Really?" Kris laughed, spiking Kristjan's annoyance. "Are you being serious? What tag team experience do you have, big boy?"

Fenris frowned, glad that Kris could not see him as his face flushed three different shades of red at Ryans' taunting. Fenris answered, "I did win the Blast From Past tournament with Courtney..."

"Mixed tag teams, son." Kris stressed. "Mixed. World of difference between those and regular tag teams."

"Really." Kristjan said matter-of0factly. "And you know this how...?"

This time it was Kris's turn on his end to pull the phone aside and stare into it with disbelief. He then shook his own head and said with stressed tones, "Maybe because I was in a tag team before? Jet City? Held the championships almost four months..."

"Before my time." Fenris interrupted. "Don't see how much different this will be."

"Oh maybe because if Ben or Crimson get you down and are beating the shit out of you, you won't be allowed to leave the ring until you actually tag out?" Kris rolled his eyes, amazed at the ignorance the rookie was displaying on one of the most basic concepts in the sport. He then added, "You have a lot to learn, Krissy..."

"Kristjan!"

"Whatever." Kris smiled, pleased that as nice as he was trying to be, he still "had it" when it came to getting under someone's skin so easily. He then continued, "So if you'll pardon the phrase, you better start boning up. I don't want to lose my first match back, and I have a feeling you sure as hell don't want to lose your first match as the champion."

"I. Won't." Fenris stressed each word.

"Glad to hear it!" Kris replied. "Now all you have to do is prove it. I'll contact you with some details to get us ready." Kris then quickly ended the call, pleased that he had gotten in the last word with the hit headed Icelander. On his own end, Fenris stared hard at the phone until he finally threw it against the pillow that rested against the sofa's arm rest. The man was so fucking aggravating ... what in hell made him ever....? He frowned and stretched back against the sofa, his legs extended as far as was possible while he laid his head back, closing his eyes.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? A singles match he knew how to handle, but if a tag team match was as different and as difficult as Kris implied, he was going to need some help. Whether he liked it or not. He simply was not in the habit of asking for help, but now he found himself in unfamiliar territory and he did not like it one iota. Bringing his head up, he sighed in resignation, knowing damn well what he had to do. Reaching over, he picked his phone back up from where it had fallen and hit the speed dial.

He waited as it rung, and when it finally picked up...

"Hello?" It was the voice of Gabriel Stevens on the other end.

"Don't hang up!" Fenris barked out before he could stop himself. Knowing that it would be the most likely result once his trainer realized who was calling.

"What do you want?" Gabriel asked after an uncomfortable pause. Fenris paused, knowing what he nodded to do, and had to say. It was just such a difficult thing to request when you had as much pride as he did. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and said three of the most difficult words he had ever uttered.

"I need help."



Fenris stood inside of the immediate hallway of the training facility that had gotten him ready for the sport of professional wrestling; where Gabriel and Odette Stevens, along with a small team of their closest friends and family in the business, helped a young and arrogant man merge his MMA shoot fighting style into one that was more appropriate for the wrestling ring. Kristjan was privately concerned that he would never see the inside again. He yet wondered if he would be allowed to move past this point itself, where he now sat in a chair and waited to be buzzed in or greeted. Across from him, seated at a desk was none other than the young man who had been a catalyst for his banishment.

Despayre.

No, he was not blaming Despayre. Kristjan admitted that he himself was at fault for taking his anger out on this young man who was beloved by so many. Not entirely right, but innocent. He did the impossible when he invoked in Kristjan an overwhe.ming sense of guilt at his own actions. And now? Despayre was seated behind the desk just outside of the main door to the facility, acting the part of greeter or secretary or...

Whatever he would have thought was washed away from the recesses of his mind as the door opened, and there stood the man most responsible for his new career; Gabriel. Gabriel eyes shifted from Despayre, and the sight of the young man with those weird glasses on and hands clasped calmly atop the desk, drew a twinkle of a smile in the mentor's eyes, not to mention lips. But that all vanished the moment he turned his gaze upon his (former?) student, and what light he had in his face became hardened. Fenris stood up and slowly walked over to greet him.

"I was not certain you would meet me." He said simply.

"That makes two of us." Gabriel answered. "I wasn't certain that I would want to." The two stared at one another, until Gabriel continued, "But you apologized to Despy. That was a start. Plus, you actually managed to swallow that over-inflated ego of yours and actually admit that you needed help."

"So..." Fenris tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweats and shrugged lightly. ".... Are we good?"

"No." Gabriel shook his head, wasting no time in answering. Fenris drew in a breath but Gabriel interrupted whatever he might say by saying, "But it's a start. As for your problem, I can't go to Anaheim to help you get ready. I won't leave my pregnant wife. But... I can try to arrange a private seminar on tag team wrestling. I understand that Kris is working on helping you get ready. This might help with the technical aspects."

Kristjan wasn't happy that Gabriel wouldn't be there, but he understood. He couldn't expect the man to put a student, one he wasn't particularly fond of at the moment, ahead of his wife. So whatever start that might mend the burned bridge? He was willing to accept. He nodded in acceptance, to which Gabriel accepted.

"Good, though I can't make any promises. This tag team expert might be unable or unwilling." He explained. "We'll see. But for now..." Gabriel held the door that opened into the training facility open. "Odette agreed you can use the gym for what you need to. This time."

Fenris nodded, and gave a half audible "Thanks." as he started to take that step inside, when he paused. His curiosity bid him to ask, with a finger pointed at Despayre.

"What is he...?"

"C'mon!" Gabriel frowned. "You can't expect Angel to work all day without a coffee break. Despy is filling in for him."

Fenris stared at Gabriel, then at Despayre, then back to Gabriel. He started to question this when Gabriel held up a hand to forestall him. "Don't... try to understand it. Despy is great as our administrative assistant. He really weeds out the riff raff."

And as if on cue, the telephone on the desk rings. Despayre blinked through those Coke-bottle magnifying lenses of his and picked up the stapler and was about to answer it, when Gabriel stopped him. Gabriel instead picked the phone up and handed it to him instead.

"Than you." Despayre smiled, then spoke into the phone. "Hello? ... Yes. ... No. ... What do you mean you're canceling your training session? You can't just cancel on Gabriel and Odette without at least a forty eight hour notice! ... Well WHEN did he die!?"

Gabriel snorted back a laugh, but grabbed the phone from Despayre's hand and gently set it back down, turning it off. He patted his little brother on the shoulder who resumed his look-out position while he led Fenris through the door, shutting it behind them.



Fenris sat on a single folding chair with a lightly padded seat, staring straight ahead at one of the three wrestling rings that were houses in the unnamed training facility run by the Stevens household. More specifically, his eyes were on the one six-sided ring that they used to help get their students and future SCW stars better prepared for the unique structure used by the SCW itself. He remained in his street clothes, as he had not yet been afforded again the luxury of the use of the facility itself or what lie within. Not yet, anyway. So here he sat, eyes burning on the ring. Arms rested on his thighs and hands clasped together.

Focused.

As was the norm, his words flowed freely in Icelandic with English subtitles. He shook his head, "I do not think I ask for much when it comes to this business. Unlike certain others who demand title opportunities at every interval, I earned the spot where I am with Courtney Pierce at my side. We won the Blast From the Past together to earn our spots. To earn what would be just chances that we would have to learn to take advantage of for ourselves. Her time will come, and I did as I expected. I may not have gotten to face Kris Ryans -- yet -- but I did get my opportunity at the world title, and not even four months on, I am the World Heavyweight Champion."

"'What's next for Fenris?' was the obvious question on peoples minds. Who would be his first challenger. Ty West? Dmitri? Casey Williams? Bring them on, I say. But first, and foremost, I want kris Ryans, the same man I should have fought at Summer XXXTreme VI! The same man, who for reasons unknown, I am fated to team with this very weekend. And as new as this situation places us in, the spot our opponents find themselves can only be more discomforting."

He smiled, leaning forward and rubbing a free hand along his jaw.

"When I found out that I was going to get to compete in the ring against Ben Jordan, I had thought that Christmas had come early this year. If there was ever a man I wanted to test myself against in the ring, it would be him. if there was a man that I would openly express admiration and respect for, it would be Ben Jordan. I made that perfectly clear that I fully supported him and his #BenDeservesBetter campaign. I wanted him in the ring before he had even officially resigned with SCW, but it was unfortunately not to be. Ben and Jon had other ideas, and apparently so did the bosses."

He nodded.

"That's fine. Good things come to those who wait, and I am patient."

He frowned then shook his head.

"Okay, even I did not buy that. My point is, while I would much prefer that our match together be in singles competition, I'll take what I can get for now. Our time one on one will come, but if we have to each have a partner in our corner, so be it. I've watched you Ben. watched everything I could find from your days in ACW, to that team of yours with Jamie Dean. Your time spent in the tag team division was sorely wasted, even if it was successful. I saw you in a Parking Lot Brawl with Eyesnsane. That win showed me you can take a beating and dish one out. It made me want to face you all the more! And everyone tells me that you are one of the most gifted technical wrestlers in the sport. That just means things between us will just keep getting better and better! Do we fight? Do we wrestle? Fuck, we could do both and I'd be happy!"

"You and me Ben. World Champion versus the Roulette Champion. The rookie against the veteran! And as much as I value what time we spent together hanging out, and as much respect as I hold for you in my heart and mind, I aim to prove that a wealth of experience does not always equal a guaranteed victory."

He turned his head to the right, facing a second camera.

"But you, Crimson. When I thought you should be one of my next opponents, I was bombarded by questions as to why I would want to face such a feared competitor. Why would I wish to take on a literal force of nature! And my answer to them would be, and will always be, why the fuck not? Look at me, Crimson."

He motioned a forefinger back and forth between the camera and himself.

"Am I truly supposed to be intimidated by a supposed monster whose first name is Tommy? Stick with just crimson and you might have better success at instilling fear in the opposition. Me, however?"

He shook his head.

"Don't get your hopes up. I've watched enough of you to know that you will sink to any low in order to walk away a winner. And for the most part, you've been successful as fuck! With the exception of a few -- repeated -- losses at the hands of my own tag team partner, Kris Ryans, who would seem to be your own personal Achilles heel. Try as you might, you just can't seem to get that all-too important win inside of the ring where he is concerned, can you? And against me?"

He tapped a forefinger to his chest and shook his head.

"You'll fare no better. Not because I am saying that I'm a better athlete than you are. I wouldn't say that so prematurely."

He smirked.

"I am, but I wouldn't say it. No, it's this miasma of fear that you seem to radiate around you, relying on that to intimidate your opponents and psyche them out before the match even begins. Then once the match does start, you simply pick them apart until there is not enough left over to make a decent lunch. Shit! You even bit off a chunk of my partner's ear, damn near killed him, and still it wasn't enough! That tells me right there that you rely too goddamned heavily on this dark reputation of yours. And when you end up staring down a man who will not yield eye contact? You choke!"

"You don't scare me, Crimson. Why would you? You're a fucking cliche that surrounds the wrestling world! You bite! You kick and punch! You grab weapons because that is all you fucking CAN do! But go against someone who knows what it is like to take a hit and hand one back in return? Face a man that can force you down onto the mat and tie you into a knot until you hear something break? Then where are you? The same place you will be this weekend; at my goddamned mercy! Which is a shame for you because..."

he shook his head.

"I have none. I have no patience for men like you. I built my reputation from a boy to the man I am today. I learned how to fight because I had no fucking choice! Your Devil has no sway over me or my heart! I am of Viking descent! I am a proud Norse warrior, flesh and blood! I( am guarded by the White Light of Balder. And your Devil?"

He scoffed.

"He runs from the Valkyries, the Choosers of the Slain, as they ride across the battlefield! He will offer you no succor. he will simply watch and wait, a powerless nothing, while the Valkyries scoop you up off the  battlefield, bloody and beaten, and throw you into the pits of Hel."

He slowly stood up.

"Then and only then, Tommy, will you start to understand just how powerless you really are."

Fenris then took his leave, ready for one of the most highly anticipated matches of his young career, and walked of-camera. Only then did the spotlight above the six-sided ring slowly wink out into nothingness, leaving the screen black.