May 7, 2021 -
Las Vegas, Nevada

It was later than expected, well after the events of the 300th edition of Climax Control had reached its conclusion. But Las Vegas was slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy, and where Fenris and many other stars of SCW were concerned, that meant a little post-show party and giving themselves into excess. And even though the bars and casinos along the Strip remained open pretty much 24/7, there were limits to even the indulgences of the “White Wolf” Fenris, if you can believe that or not. His routines remained the same, always. If you asked his friends, they would think him OCD where his training was concerned. Ask his brother Aron, who this very day he teamed with for the very first time, and he would say that brother of his was absolutely anal. The hour was well after 2am, and although obviously inebriated, Fenris would get up within four hours, hangover or not, and begin his training regime.

But for now, Aron had his hands full.

The door slowly opened and it could be seen why, as Aron struggled to half-carry Kristjan through the open door frame, the elder of the two having over-indulged. He’d regret it soon enough, but for the next two weeks he’d most likely cut back on his alcohol intake as he prepared to face David Shepherd at Into the Void X in a grudge match that had been building in intensity over the past six plus weeks. Kristjan COULD walk, but it was with slow and awkward steps as he stumbled and Aron had his right arm draped around his neck, supporting his brother’s weight so he didn’t fall and do himself a mischief.

Aron propped Kristjan up along the edge of their snow-white sofa as Kyssa came running along to sniff at her master and receiving a blind ear scratch for her just reward, while the younger sibling took the time to close the door behind them and secure its lock. Only when he turned around did he see that his brother was staring him down through glassy, bloodshot eyes. His eyes narrowed as his body wavered, and Aron couldn’t quite tell whether that was a smile on his face or not. But as he walked past his brother, young Aron couldn’t help but to quip, “You know, red really doesn’t go with the blue of your eyes.”

He placed a hand on the larger man’s shoulder and forcibly sat him down on the sofa, the white Siberian Husky crawling up onto his lap for a much desired rubdown. Aron then made for the kitchen to fetch Kristjan some water to fend off the hangover effects as best he could, but quickly found his brother’s hand clamped tightly around his wrist and he pulled him down onto the sofa along with him.

“What?” Aron exclaimed, once he righted himself from his landing. A moment’s pause followed, as if Kristjan was trying to find the right words without slurring them (much), and he asked, “What do you think you were doing tonight?”

Aron stared at him without comprehension. He had a couple of beers, but that was all. Not the multiple drinks that the other had, one right after the other. Aron side-eyed him and shook his head, “K, what are you…?”

“I had everything under control.” Kristjan wavered, finally resting against the back of the sofa but his eyes never straying from the confrontation, one in which had obviously been on his mind. He just obviously was waiting until the two siblings were not in public.

“Ah…” Aron closed his eyes and nodded. “I was wondering if this was going to come up. Under control… that’s how you see it?” He waited for a brief moment until Kristjan nodded, and then said, “If by ‘under control,’ you mean having your ass handed to you, then yes. I would agree.”

Kristjan sat upright quickly with a sudden frown etched on his face. To say something like that, something that even remotely insinuated that he had not been in complete control was sacrilege. But before he could utter a word of protest, Aron held up a hand to forestall him and quickly amended himself, stating, “K, you did great. But face facts! They took control, and even you can’t fight two men. Especially when they were willing to tag each other and you were not.”

The last bit was added with a strong tone to the words, driving home Aron’s point.

“It was a tag team match, K.” Aron said matter-of-factly. “Key word being ‘team,’ and you didn’t make me feel like I was part of it, not wanting to tag me in like that.”

“I didn’t want…” But before he could finish, Aron interrupted him and said, “I know. You didn’t want me to get hurt. That’s what you always say when you cut me out of these moments. That’s why you ‘fired’ me. But don’t you get it?” He shook his head and poked himself in the sternum with a forefinger. “I wanted this, K! I wanted to be able to say that I got to team with my big brother! And when I DID tag in, was I, or was I not, able to handle myself?”

Kristjan, however, did not answer. He just turned his head aside and away from Aron, which told the younger one all he had to know. When Kristjan was right, he’d let the world know it. When he was wrong, he’d clam up and not say a word to admit so.

“I don’t need you to protect me like some baby bird, K.” Aron said, and Kristjan turned to him with a frown, and what he thought was a stricken, hurt reflection in his eyes.

“I’m not saying I don’t need you, K.” Aron smiled. “You’re my big brother. I’ll ALWAYS need you. And if some guy like Mercer wants to get cute, well then have at it! I’m just saying -- you can relax a little with me, okay?” Still, Kristjan didn’t speak as he turned away from him again to take in the words. Whether or not he’d remember them in the morning was still entirely up for debate.

Aron finally rose from the sofa and walked into the kitchen to retrieve two bottled waters, but when he returned to pass one along, he found his brother sound asleep on the sofa. Aron sighed gently, then set the waters down. He gently laid Kristjan back on the sofa and drew the pearl-white afghan that their aunt had crocheted for them from the back of the sofa and draped it over him as Kyssa watched protectively. Aron then picked up his bottle and with one last glance at his brother, and watching Kyssa curl up at the base, he called it a night and went to bed.

---

Reykjavik, Iceland -
September 2018

The last several days had been turbulent for Kristjan Baltasarsson. The world had discovered a secret that he had held steadfast against prying eyes for years; the fact that he was homosexual. (Don’t you dare use the term ‘queer’ where he was concerned! Accepted by most or not, he hated that word and would swing at any who dared use it in reference to him!) The only person who was privy to the secret had been his beloved Jokull from years past, his lost love. And of course, Kris Ryans, the very one he had been caught with and what had started this domino effect of his own self destruction. And had it not been for his brother Aron and his trainer in Gabriel Stevens, he may very well have went past the point of no return. And while he knew he would be facing an onslaught of public opinion and backlash from not just his and Kris’s public tryst in an elevator, but simply from narrow minded ‘fans’ reacting to the big, bad “White Wolf” being gay.

Such a thing in the world of MMA was unheard of.

But for now, he was here; in his native town of Reykjavik, self recuperating with his family sans Aron who remained in Las Vegas. The previous night, the entire family met him with a heart-to-heart intervention, assuring him that while his sexual preferences mattered to none of them, some of his recent destructive behavior did. But that was last night.

It was still early the next day, and Kristjan’s father Benedikt had managed to corral his son after breakfast and his morning run; none of them unable to get him to break away from any of his training regime. Once finished, the father took the son out of the house and Kristjan soon found himself in the passenger seat of the family car, a gray Toyota Prius, traveling down the road. He figured in his mind that his Mom had sent Benedikt out on some weekend errand and his dad simply wanted the company, when instead they found themselves at…


Reykjavík's city pond, Reykjavíkurtjörn. One of Kristjan’s favorite spots in his native city. In fact, the very location where he had his morning run that very day. This was the precise moment when Kristjan realized that this was not just some errand that they had been sent on; his father had something else in mind. Something that Kristjan was not entirely certain he wanted to partake in, especially given the discussion they had last night. That had involved the entire family, but this? This was Benedikt, his father. The man he had looked up to and idolized for as long as he could remember. Benedikt had parked the Sedan across the road, and father and son found themselves walking silently along the edge of the pond, Benedikt conspicuous by the paper grocery bag he held in his hand.

“Should I be concerned?” Kristjan finally found his voice. “I mean, is there a reason why we’re here?”

“I thought you enjoyed Reykjavíkurtjörn?” Benedikt said, more a statement than a question.

“I do.” Kristjan answered. “But you haven’t brought me here since I was a boy. I would usually just wander down here by myself to feed the swans or to watch the tourists…” He paused, as indeed the pond was flocked by what tourists there were at this early morning hour. He then turned to resume the walk his father was leading him on, when instead he saw Benedikt slowly taking a seat at the edge of the bond, on the stone wall. He watched and a silent pang tore through him as he saw his dad struggle, just a bit. Benedikt had arthritis in his right knee ever since a skiing accident years ago, and it hurt to even think of his father as anything but perfect to his own eyes.

Then he saw what his dad carried in the paper bag, as he removed a thawed out bag of frozen peas, presumably to feed the swans. Kristjan arched a brow as he walked over and took a seat at his side.

“Now I know something is going on.” He said, to which Benedikt answered back, “So something has to be going on for a father to spend some time with his son?”

“Under most circumstances, no.” Kristjan shook his head. “But after what’s been going on and the talk last night? You can hardly blame me for being suspicious.” Kristjan waited, but no answer to the accusation came forth. Instead, Benedikt smiled as he opened the bag and took out a handful of the thawed out veggies and gave them a gentle toss into the water. Kristjan turned from his dad to watch as the swans slowly made their way over to where the offerings originated from and they ducked their long necks into the water to retrieve the bounty. It was a gentle sight of nature that Kristjan never tired of. Indeed, even he wore a smile as a few other tourists did the same, and Benedikt threw a few more morsels into the water for the swans.

“Did mom put you up to this?” Kristjan finally asked, and Benedikt answered, “No, this was entirely me. I just promised your mother I wouldn’t keep you out too long. Since you’re leaving tomorrow and your visit was so short, she wants to spend as much time as possible with you. Your mother just had her say last night. This is my turn.”

Kristjan just nodded, turning his head away to watch the swans in the water, and the light of the morning sun dancing off of the surface. A hard knot started to form in his stomach as he had hoped that last night’s family discussion would be the end of it, but such was not the case apparently. Finally he found his voice and said, “You’re disappointed, aren’t you?” He waited for a moment as his dad turned to him finally and he added, “In my being gay? Liking men?”

“No, son…”

“Or the fact that I won’t be giving you grandchildren?”

Benedikt snorted and paused from taking another handful of the peas and withdrew his hand before he turned to his son, “It may have escaped your notice, son, but you are not your mother’s and my only child. What parent doesn’t want to have grandchildren to spoil when they get old? But if that’s not part of your path in life, so be it. Your mother and I spoke last night and we understand.” Benedikt then gave him an impish, fatherly smile and added, “Although your mothers till thinks you might meet some nice fella to make an honest man out of you and give her grandchildren anyway.”

This time, it was Kristjan who snorted and he shook his head, saying with a resigned tone, “No, when I said not, I meant it. I know I am not the father type.”

Benedikt watched him for a brief moment before he turned back to watch the swans and the water, much like his son. For a while, neither spoke a word until he finally asked, “Can I ask you something?” Kristjan didn’t answer verbally, he simply yielded with a silent nod. Benedikt then said, “You and Jokull….?”

And there, Kristjan closed his eyes. What he felt for his dead lover even after all of these years? It was epic. As was the pain he lived under every time his name was brought up, and the blame he shifted on himself for the accident that took his beloved Jokull away from him and his family. Benedikt was aware, and that was why he didn’t push. He had asked, and if his son chose not to answer, that was, of course, his own prerogative.

Kristjan finally opened his eyes and turned his head enough to look to his dad and ask, “Was it that obvious?”

“That you loved each other? Oh yes.” His dad nodded. “That it went beyond friendship to the romantic?” He then shook his head. “No. You boys hid that well enough, even if you didn’t need to.” Another deep regret Kristjan had come to realize; that if his and Jokull’s families had known and accepted it, then all could have and would have been well. If his family had ever discovered that Jokull’s own parents had discovered their little secret? He wasn't sure he wanted to know how that little revelation would have gone over. Benedikt went on, “Your mother and I didn’t know. I mean, after he passed, we suspected, maybe ‘wondered’ would be the better word, given how much pain you were in, but we didn’t say anything. We didn’t want to pry.”

“And now?”

“Now…” Benedikt went on. “Your mother and I just want our boy to be happy. I’m sure your brother and sisters will give us the grandchildren your mother wants so badly. You? You can adopt one of those Himalayan whistle kids, or one of those Yorkshire terriers… whatever it is you men do.”

Father heard a supressed snort, and he turned back to his son and saw Kristjan with eyes closed and his lips clamped shut, shaking hard to not laugh at his father’s creative manner to soothe things over. He finally opened his eyes, his face flushed from the held back laughter, and he shook his head.

“You’re an ass.”

“Yes, well…” Benedikt held the bag out to him. “Like father, like son.” Kristjan reached in and took a handful of the peas and gave them a toss into the water, his father doing likewise...

---

Las Vegas, Nevada - Now

Fenris walked calmly into the bedroom of his shared condo at the Turnberry Towers, reaching over to turn on the lights, immediately flooding the room in a soft, golden illumination. But he then turned the small dial beside the light switch, and the result was the overhead track lighting dimmed to where it was just light enough to see throughout. Not that the city lights from the famed Strip did any less through the open patio window. He then walked barefoot over the plush, white carpeting and entered his walk-in closet, a space big enough some might think it an apartment all unto its own. Yet Fenris did not take down any of his wardrobe from where they hung, or remove a bottle from the wall rack gifted to him from Ben Jordan for his own private collection - of which he had many.

No, instead he walked to the very end wall of the closet where a simple table rested, and a single statue of the Norse god Baldur stood. Almost ten inches in height, it was a wondrous piece of art, one of which Fenris treasured as a dedicated Ásatrú practitioner. Behind the statue, on the wall, an oil painting of the very same deity. Both gifts to him from his family. While they did not practice the same faith, they respected and supported his own choice to do so.

“Hvíldu einn, því brátt munt þú rísa.” He said before he exited the closet and slid the door closed once again. He then walked over to the open patio and paused briefly, eyes closed, and luxuriating in the Vegas night. The air was pleasantly cool for the season, and he slowly removed his button up shirt so his bare, upper body could feel the gentle wind across his lightly tanned flesh. He then opened his eyes and his gaze roamed across the city before him.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions running around that narrow mind of yours David, chief among them you're probably wondering what the point was behind all of this. Why did I choose to open the door for everyone out there, you especially, to get a look behind the iron curtain which is my life. Under most circumstances, I don’t let anyone in on my personal life. Or I try not to, but you know how some people are; they think just because you’re in the public eye, then everything about you and those close to you must be as well. People will stalk a celebrity with cameras, violating their personal space and their family. They will perform stakeouts to take pictures of a star without clothes on and sell them to the highest bidder, and if that upsets said star? They just claim the public has a right to know. They will dig through garbage to try and find something, anything, that could be used as leverage or gossip in one of those filthy websites or newsstand tabloids, and justify their every action. I call bullshit! The only business people have a right to know is what I do inside of that ring! Anything else? My business, and mine alone. I have had fans come up to me when I’m eating out with friends and family and play the role of victim when I refuse to interrupt this time alone with pictures and small talk. I even had one asshole tell me that it was my duty since he paid my salary. I told him to fuck off, because the ONLY thing anyone pays me to do is to wrestle, so whatever I do OUTSIDE of the ring? That’s my call, and mine alone! I’m a private person. Always have been. I won’t lie and say I don’t get an ego boost when people ask for an autograph or to take a picture with me but… time and place.”

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work out that way. I learned that the hard way a few years ago when some nosey bastards decided the world needed to know Fenris, the scary MMA and professional wrestling star, preferred the company of men. That was a door I could never close again, and I’ve never forgiven them for stealing away what should have been MY decision! MY moment! Just thinking about that violation pisses me off, but I have to admit that the end results worked out in my favor. I’m surrounded by people who have been nothing short of supportive.”

“Ever since then, I’ve been extra careful to shield my private life and my family from the wandering eyes of reporters and fans. My family has been here in Las Vegas to visit time and again but I will be damned if I let them fall prey to these sharks who just want a look for no other reason than to be fucking nosey! It’s a risk they still try to take; they ask me something about my family or my personal life? They get told to ‘fuck off’ and then they act all butt hurt entitled little bitches. But this time tonight?… This was special. This was for you, David. There is a method to my so-called madness. If there weren't, even my own family members and those closest to me wouldn't refer to me as cerebral. I did it because I wanted to show the more important differences between David Shepherd and myself. And I am not talking about the differences between us INSIDE of the ring. Those are self evident - or at least, they WILL be.”

“Inside of the ring? David, those are the differences between night and day! While you and your own were down in SCU, wallowing in self pity and being humiliated by a fucking rhino of all things, I was here! Topside on the main roster, reminding everyone why I was a goddamn force of nature! I was winning, having five star matches with the likes of Ben Jordan, while you? You were losing matches left and right to that twink, Carter! Really, how embarrassing for you!”

“No, this time I’m talking about the differences between us where it REALLY matters. Everything you saw? That is the backbone of who and what I am. My family. My friends. I am man enough to admit that I would not be HALF the man that I am today if it weren’t for those closest to me! My Mom and Dad? They have been my heart and soul ever since I was a kid! Sure I did things that upset them, maybe even disappointed them. But I also did things that made them happy and even proud, and never - not ONCE -have they ever turned their backs on me! Even when they found out that I had a thing for men?”

He shook his head with a soft smile.

“They didn’t give a damn. They were always believers that a parents love should be unconditional. I have been very lucky in that regard.”

His eyes gifted sidelong toward the camera.

“Can you say the same? Afraid not. I’ve sat back and watched from afar and I’ve seen the way Gerald treats you. You’re not a son to him. You are little more than Daddy’s Little Soldier, and he treats you well enough -- so long as you act the role of a good son and do as you're told. Defy him? Well I’m sure all hell breaks loose. Part of me can’t blame you, really. I’ve met your dad. I’ve talked with him - or rather, he spoke to me. Can’t deny the man has a way with words that almost charms you and makes you want to do as he wishes. I suspect enough years of that would be enough to turn someone like you into a brainwashed robot, but that fault lies with you for being so damn desperate to want to please and to belong. You fight so hard just to be accepted that you lost all sense of your own self. It’s not just sad. That’s fucking pathetic.”

“The Lord Is My Shepherd, I Shall Not Want.”

“Give me a fucking break!”

Fenris almost looked heavenward and rolled his eyes.

“I have to be honest with you David. I do admit that I admire the fact that you hold onto your faith with as much passion as you do. The one thing that I’ve noticed about so-called Christians is the fact that they are so only one day out of the week, and only for a couple of hours that day. After their church service is over, they go out to restaurants where they mistreat the servers. They go have a glass of wine (or three), and give in to excess. (other examples) These people will look you in the eye and accuse you of being evil and think you are disgusting. They will pick apart everything about your life and in doing so, will tell you about how you are going to burn in the fires of Hell. And when you call them on it and throw back in their faces ‘Judge Not Lest ye Be Judged,’ their response?”

“‘Oh I’m not judging you!’ - Even though that was exactly what they were doing! These people, yourself and that family of yours included, you search your passages and pick apart the Bible to fuel your hatred and bigoted viewpoints. You twist the so-called Word of God to your own ends and completely ignore the same book and its teachings that pick apart your own sins! I just find it funny that you and the rest of the Good Shepherds have made yourselves famous for preaching against the sins of others while very conveniently ignoring your own. Your sneak attacks. Your underhanded tactics during matches. Your harsh words, judging others who don’t believe the same as you.

Look at that priest a few years back that said he would set himself on fire if gay marriage were made legal by the United States Supreme Court. Well it was, and where is that priest now? Did he follow through on his ‘threat?’”

Fenris closed his eyes and shook his head in the negative.

“He was just the perfect example. So many people do the same, trying to dictate how the rest of the world should live according to their own beliefs. Telling the world that gays shouldn’t be allowed to marry because it’s against your religion. That would be like telling me that I can’t eat a pizza because YOU’RE on a diet! Different concept, same point!”

“But not you. David. No. With you, it’s a matter of what you see is what you get. You believe with all your heart everything that your father and mother has taught you about the church and your God. Or that’s just the programming they instilled into you. It’s an admirable parent to teach their child values, but it’s a cruel one that brainwashes the child into thinking like them and not allowing them to develop any traits or beliefs of their own. While you have a mother and a father, I have a mom and a dad. And that might not sound like much, but there is a world of difference in what I have in my corner, in my life, compared to what you have in yours!”

“But that’s okay David, it’s alright. Either way, you hold onto that faith of yours. You believe in the church and your god. The conviction you hold to in your path in life is admirable. It’s just woefully misguided. Like your parents, like most church goers, they don’t even think about the origins of their own teachings!

“The Bible you cling to, and everything in it? Yeah, those stories were passed down for hundreds of years by word of mouth by illiterate souls before they were ever transcribed to the written word! And you DO know what happens when any story gets passed along like that? Details get exaggerated. Facts get embellished. Stories get added on to. That book you hold to so dear? That’s not even the complete version! There are entire passages and texts that were removed for no other reason that it didn’t fit with the way the Church wanted the people to think! The Book of Enoch a perfect example! Biblical ‘facts’ about fallen angels mating with humans? Well the Church can’t have stories like THAT passed around, can they? Then Christians might get it in their heads that angels aren’t a perfect being! And if angels weren’t perfect, what would that say about their Creator?”

“I could go on but talk about religion bores the fuck out of me. I could mention how the Bible doesn’t ACTUALLY say a word condemning homosexuality or gay marriage, despite what religious leaders want you to think. I could go on about how hundreds of years ago, they burnt women at the stake for witchcraft as it was a sin, yet there Solomon was, using a witch to perform necromancy and contact the dead. Oh! Or how Christians look to King David as a shining beacon when he had his own man killed so he could take his wife for his own.”

He shrugged, and stepped away from the banister of the patio and turned back to the open door.

“Look around you, then take a look around me. I have everything a man could want or need, and you? You have nothing. My parents. My siblings. My friends. They all have my back where the people you surround yourself with would just as easily stab you in yours for not believing what they believe.”

"I've heard rumors that you disapprove of my practice of Ásatrú. Of how I look to Odin and the fallen Baldur for guidance in my life. Well we can't all be like you, David. Placing our faith in the salvations of our soul in a 2000 year old dead carpenter. Face facts, David! My gods existed for literally thousands of years before yours was ever even a blip note in history! In fact, your religion, your god, wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for a single Roman emperor converting. One man."

"The only thing you should be concerned with is praying to your God to save not your soul, but your ass because all this? It’s on you! You started this shit between us, David! Your big mouth, and that little bitch ass attack six weeks ago! I’ve waited long enough. In a matter of days, it’ll all be over. So don't preach to me. Do not bestow upon me the virtues of your Bible, your faith. I'm almost thirty. I've outgrown fairy tales.”

Fenris stepped inside and slammed the patio door behind him with a hard finale.

Loneliness.

It’s an emotional pain that we’ve all felt at one time or another. Many have gone on record and tried to deny the fact, stating simply that they did not need anyone in their life and thus, did not experience the pain of having nobody in your life that you could call a friend and/or loved one. They would justify this fabrication by stating that they were not a ‘people person,’ or that too often others have hurt them or let them down. Anything to continue the illusion of being strong, even when there were no eyes around that might see otherwise. To come home to an empty house when it might be nicer to have someone there waiting on you, possibly greet you in a warm and loving manner? To go to a movie alone when the experience might be more enjoyable when shared with a close friend? To take a walk alone in the park on a cool, autumn evening and the enjoyment might not be more so with a special someone walking at your side?

Still, friends? Family? Mothers and fathers? Best friend. Sisters. …

Brothers.

Some people make excuses. Others ‘substitute’ people for animals and state they prefer the latter to the former. Some ‘can’t handle’ the stress people provide and instead provide the comforts of companionship with a cat or a dog, or any type of pet. And to these peoples’ credit, this is not such a bad thing. Animals want love and food with a roof over their head, whereas people want - everything.

Las Vegas, Nevada - 03/28/2021
University Medical Center

Yes, that’s right. A return trip but this time, circumstances had been reversed. The last time we were here was in December of 2020 when Aron Baltarasson had been admitted for blunt trauma, the direct result of a heinous attack at the hands of Austin James Mercer. However, this time it was not the younger sibling of the SCW Superstar known as Fenris that had been admitted and was currently undergoing examinations, but Fenris -- Kristjan -- himself. It was only a few hours prior when he and the aforementioned Austin James Mercer had fought in the Lion’s Den in the Supercard event, Blaze of Glory IX, a match that was unlike any sanctioned ‘match’ of its kind. Held inside the confined of an MMA cage, and was nothing less than a fight between two men with a festering grudge built between them, it lived up to everything it had professed to be.

A war.

Fenris and Austin beat each other absolutely senseless, reducing the other to bloody messes and worse. Yet despite the fact he was outsized by fifty pounds of muscle and several inches in height, it was his tenacity and determination to uphold his family’s honor that helped Fenris prevail. But he resembled anything but a winner.

The blood in his hair had already begun to stick, practically gluing his blonde locks to his scalp and the same crimson stained and dried to his face, and would have to be cleaned thoroughly before he was to be admitted. The swelling and bruising around his eyes was a tell-tale sign of a possible broken nose, but go and tell him something that he did not already suspect. He could feel the bone, the cartilage, not as it should be. It felt almost -- misshapen. If his good friend Ben Jordan did not make a ‘nose job’ joke at his expense, he would be sorely disappointed. He felt a massive headache. His jaw was sore. He had difficulty drawing in a full breath, as through his nose was nigh on an impossibility, and it simply hurt to expand his chest. He couldn’t move without his back feeling like it was on fire. Bottom line? From head to toe he felt truly and completely fucked. Up.

The one saving grace for the hospital staff was the fact that he had been brought to the hospital directly from the Golden Ring Casino, so he was clad in just his wrestling shorts, formerly white but now stained with blood and sweat. They had taken extra precautions not to move him too quickly as they positioned him on the CT examination table, making him as comfortable as they were able, given the circumstances.

“Jesus! What the hell happened to him?” A middle aged woman, the floor’s head nurse, asked without bothering to lower her tone for his or anybody else’s benefit as she spoke with the CT tech. “Was he in a car wreck? I wasn’t informed about any...”

“No, he was in a fight.” The tech interrupted.

“He looks it! Had anyone notified the police?”

“No, not that type of fight. A professional one. He’s a professional wrestler.”

“I… take it then that he lost?”

“No, as a matter of fact, he won as is my understanding.”

“Really? Wow. Would hate to see the loser.”

The discussion between the nurse and the technician was not lost on Fenris, even though they had assumed he was too ‘out of it’ to be paying them much mind, let alone understand them. His eyes remained close but he was unable to hide the smirk of satisfaction that etched itself on his bloody and bruised face, a soft chuckle escaping from his lips. That line told the two in the room with him that he was not only alert despite the pain he was in and the medications that he had been provided, but he had heard. Every. Word. A hushed whisper between them followed and the nurse quickly made her exit as the CT technician went about his business…

“Well, the fact is that you do have a concussion.” The doctor said as Fenris sat back in the bed he had been provided in the private room he had been moved into. “Broken nose, and two cracked ribs…” He went on to further explain and Fenris came close to responding with “No shit!?” but surprisingly held his tongue in check and allowed the doctor to go about his business. He simply sat there like a carved statue, watching and if truth be told, he heard only bits and pieces of what the doctor was saying. His mind, though addled with a strong sedative and pain killer, was alert enough to have come to a hurtful realization; nobody was there for him. Kalei Hale had done him a favor of contacting the members of London Underground to retrieve his belongings from the Casino, and deliver them to Dani Weston’s at the Turnberry Towers where she was watching over his beloved Kyssa. She had even overstepped her personal boundaries between student and master, and went into his condo to deliver to him a change of clothes, while she herself was now on a flight back to Hawaii with the promise of checking in on her student in the morning. But other than that…? Nothing. Nobody. Not even Bobbie Dahl - who had been at the show - had checked in on him, preferring instead to go out for drinks with Bella Madison and Courtney Pierce. And Aron…? Well, that one was on him. Aron would have been right there by his side, even if he would have to fight to get past the visiting restrictions. He’d have been there were it not for Fenris’s own stupidity in trying to protect his flesh and blood.

If only Kristjan knew…

As earlier out in the lobby, Aron himself had stood up from where he had been waiting ever since Daniel Morgan had him driven to the hospital, greeting the doctor who filled him in on everything concerning his brother’s diagnosis and well-being. Aron, who had been cruelly ‘dismissed’ from his duties as his brother’s manager in an act of protection, had all but ignored his brother’s ‘demands’ to return to Iceland, and was right there when he was needed, whether Kristjan knew it or not.

The doctor was still prattling on, but this time Fenris’s ears picked up “... so we’ll need you to remain overnight for observation…”

“No.” That was all Fenris had said, but it might have had the weight of the world behind it because it brought the doctor to a stop. He lowered his glasses and he said, “Excuse me?”

“I am going home.” Was all he said, his eyes remaining downcast.

“Mister Baltarasson, I don’t think you understand…”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Finally Fenris looked up and despite the pain he was in, he was just a little more than resolute - and quite a bit stubborn. He wanted to be home, in his own bed. Not some sterilized cell. “I. Am. Going. Home!”

The doctor took a step forward as Fenris turned at the waist, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. A stabbing jolt of pain went up his body, and he tried his best to hide it, but the doctor was not fooled or moved by what some might see as  bravery, but what was actually a foolhardy sense of bravado. He placed  hand on Fenris’s arm and said, “I am afraid I must insist…”

“Doctor…” He spoke in a tone that practically screamed a warning. “Take your hand OFF of me!”

The doctor did so, but he remained where he stood and their eyes met in a clash of wills. The doctor for wanting what was absolutely best for his patient, and for himself to avoid any further complications and thus, a potential lawsuit. And Fenris, who was just plain, stupid stubborn. The doctor did not even have a chance to further plead his case before Fenris again cut him off and he said, “You set my nose. Taped my ribs. Just give me whatever prescription you planned and let. Me. Go! Otherwise, I will call whoever I have to. Manager. Police. Lawyer - whatever - and tell them you are trying to hold me here against my will!”

Ah, and there it was. The threat that ended this battle of wills. The threat of a lawsuit. The doctor, of course, knew what was best for his patient, but if the patient was like this one and refused to listen? There was little that he could do. He could not hold him here against his will. He would have to be released against his orders.

“Very well.” The doctor sighed, defeated. He didn’t know who he was dealing with when engaging “the White Wolf” in a  battle of wills. “I’ll have your discharge and release papers drawn up now. You’ll be discharged within the hour.”

The doctor took his leave and exited the room, shutting the door behind him. Only then when he was alone, and there were no witnesses, did Fenris hang his head and his shoulders slumped. He knew the doctor was right. He knew that he should remain where he was for his own safety and well-being. But, if nobody else gave a damn, why should he?

---

As Fenris exited the ER of the hospital and walked past the same waiting room as before, he was unable to resist taking one look before leaving. Empty. Well, empty of people whom he knew. And… It hurt. As much as he tried to fight the fact, he was unable to deny it. Four months ago, the waiting room had been filled practically to capacity with friends and well wishers, people who the brothers had grown closer to over the course of their SCW tenure. They were unable to visit Aron, given Covid restrictions, but the sentiment was there. They were there for Aron, but not for him. Part of him couldn’t exactly blame them. Aron was an absolute angel, whereas he … was not.

Fenris cast one last look at the empty waiting room before he turned and walked out of the hospital doors and toward the waiting taxi to take him home. Missing by mere moments, Aron walking back in from the cafeteria with a coffee in his hand.

---

“A lot has happened over the past several weeks, and not all of it good. Okay, that was the biggest understatement of 2021 so far. Let's face facts; it's been one giant fuck up after another. And I won't lie. Most of it's been my own damn fault. I'm not one of these guys who will go out of his way to avoid admitting fault or to keep from being proven wrong. If I'm wrong, I have no shame in admitting it. (It just doesn't happen very often.) If I fuck some shit up, I'll say so. And so far I've done nothing BUT fuck up.”

“I'm beginning to wonder if coming back and resuming my career in SCW was one of these mistakes. I am not where I should be. I am not where I belong. Before 2021 even started, I was . By getting involved with Mercer, I inadvertently put my own brother in harm's way. Not once, but twice. Aron, the one person who had always been a constant in my life. No matter how angry I got. No matter how much I yelled and cursed, he never left my side. It would be easy to place the blame for what happened to him on his shoulders, but the truth is he only got hurt because of me. I tend to get right in peoples’ faces and do what I think is right, and I don’t stop to think about what might happen because I got involved in a pissing contest. Which led me to making the biggest mistake of my life and well… by now you should know what I did. It was bad enough to piss practically everyone off and make them not want to have anything to do with me, which only compounded the problem with the Shepherds. The issues between David and myself has been festering for months, and while I would have preferred it remain between us, it would seem that fucked up Cult of theirs can’t grasp the concept of one on one, man to man. Every god damn time I get my hands on David, dear ol’ Daddy jumps in to help and I get the shit beat out of me. And do you know who was the only person to step up and offer to have my back?”

“Yeah. The same man that I’m set to face this Sunday. Mac Bane. This all started when Mac didn’t appreciate being stuck in the ring with that fat loser Troll, and Christian expressed the option of facing me in the ring instead. Mac, being the man that he is, was all for that shit, and so was I. And that was all Underwood and Ward had to hear because -- here we are! It took one or two tries for us to finally get to meet inside of the ring, but they say good things come to those who wait. And Mac, you and I -- and everyone else out there watching -- has waited long enough.”

“Mac, I understand congratulations are in order for your nuptials to Amber Ryan. As a peer and a professional, I’ll wish you well on your new life as a married man. Not so much when that bell rings, and you and I are turned loose on one another. To borrow a cliche, the honeymoon is long since over. I have not even had the opportunity to face you in the ring, and I already respect you. NOT because you offered to stand in my corner, but because you came back. You once won the Roulette Championship and walked away a week later, but you did not want that to be how you were remembered. You came back for the 2021 Blast From the Past and made it to the finals. You stepped it up and are challenging for the Internet Championship at one of SCW’s biggest events of the year. And -- you have the stones to actually WANT to step inside of the ring against me.”

“I’ve faced practically every man on the roster. I won more than I lost, but win or lose, I always learned something about every given opponent. And most walked away having earned my respect. Senor Vinnie. Alex Jones. Caleb Storms. Ben Jordan. And yes -- even Austin James Mercer. Alex Jones said it best when he described me as a man that literally feeds on high level competition. I couldn’t have phrased it any better myself. And you, Mac? Everything about you that I’ve seen practically screams I am going to get all I want from you and more! I am not going to give David or Gerald the satisfaction of seeing me fall before I get my hands on God’s Little Soldier Boy.”

“Believe me when I tell you Mac that I appreciate you stepping up and offering to watch my back against the Shepherds. It’s more than anyone else has bothered to do. You just have to now understand that more than likely has painted a target on your own back, because if David and Gerald want a pound of flesh from me, they’ll want to go through you in order to do it. But as you have my back, I’ll have yours until this is settled. Because I’ve made enough mistakes, too many, in my recent judgments. My eyes have been opened and one hard, cold truth has been made clear to me.”

“Maybe J2H was right. It's time I stop giving a fuck what people think of me.”

Las Vegas, Nevada - The early morning hours

Turnberry Towers. It was well after midnight - just past two in the morning to be exact. The moon’s soft ray of light made it past the open window and onto the bed where the two bodies laid beneath the sheets of the bed, upper bodies devoid of clothes as they laid on their sides, facing one another. Kris Ryans had come over later than normal for a reason, but before a word could be said between them, the two had quickly found themselves in Fenris’ master bedroom, doing what tended to happen whenever the two were alone together. Now that moment had passed, and the two men simply were laying in bed, enjoying each others’ company without a word needing to be said.

Kris then finally propped himself up on his bended elbow, and looked Fenris in the eyes as the darkness of the night surrounded them, the only artificial light being that of the nearby Vegas Strip far below. “Listen, K…” Okay, maybe a word did need to be said as Kris broke the silence between the two men, jokingly refusing to call him by his given name as it was too similar to his own. Kris continued to speak, “I did come over here tonight for a reason.”

Fenris’s brow knitted in a confused frown, as he replied, “I am aware. I thought that was what we were doing for the past two hours?” He added with a smirk that betrayed his personal confidence.

“No, that was just a happy coincidence.” Kris smiled, then nodded. “But I do need to talk to you. I have something to tell you.”

“Are you pregnant?” Fenris joked. “Because if you are…”

“K…” Kris interrupted, and for once Fenris was silenced. There was something not only in the tone of voice from his “friend-with-benefits,’ but his facial expression as well. Fenris frowned, but he waited. “I’m going to take some time off. I’m going home, at least for awhile. It’s time I was with my family, time to actually be a dad in more than just name.”

Now it was Fenris who propped himself up on his bended elbow, staring Kris down but not will ill intent. He asked, “is this because you lost the World title…?”

“No, well not exactly.” Kris admitted. “It was always a matter of time before I lost the title. And just a matter of time before I went home. I had decided on that way before I had won the title from Washington in the first place.”

Fenris, his eyes never leaving Kris’ own, nodded, then looked down at their bare upper bodies and their lower forms lying covered beneath the disheveled bedspread. He then resumed his stare down and asked, “So, what was this? A pity fuck to soften the blow?”

Kris’s stare grew hard, albeit just for a moment before his lips softened into a genuine smile. He said, “Don’t be such a bitch.” He half-joked. “Weren’t you the one who went home to Iceland for awhile?”

“I came back.” Fenris countered, to which Kris shook his head and asked, “When did I ever say that I wouldn’t?”

Fenris rolled his eyes and laid back on his back, his head nestled in the comfort of the mattress as the pillows had long since found a temporary new home on the soft carpeted surface of the bedroom floor. Kris continued to stare down at him as Fenris shifted his eyes to the side to continue his glance in Kris’s direction. A cocky smirk curved at the corners of his lips as he shook his head in his friend’s direction.

And in less than an hour, a now fully clothed Kris was being escorted to the front door of the condo Fenris shared with his brother Aron, who had long since gone to bed. Contrary to Kris, Fenris was only clothed in simple black boxer briefs, his tanned skin glistening from the soft track lightning of his home as the two walked to the door.

As Kris reached for the handle of the door, Fenris spoke up, “You could just stay the night. You don’t have to get a cab at this hour.”

Kris paused as he opened the door and cast a smarmy look back to Fenris and quipped, “You’re just trying to lure me back into your bed again.”

Fenris just shrugged, neither confirming nor denying Kris’ half-joking accusation. He then said, “Like it didn’t work the first time.”

Kris chuckled, “Yeah but you already told me you have an appointment at Gabriel’s in the morning. You’d never make it if I stayed. Plus … I don’t want to wake Aron up.”

Fenris scoffed at the idea, “He couldn’t hear anything.”

“YES I COULD!” Came a loud call from the depths of the condo, causing both Fenris and Kris to spin their heads around in the direction the younger sibling’s voice emanated from. A half second later, and the two turned to again look at one another.

Fenris was the first to speak up and he offered, “See you soon?”

“Yes.” Kris acknowledged with a smile. “You will.”

That being said, Kris stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him, leaving Fenris to stare at the shut door in his wake. That cocky expression of Fenris’ faltered once there were no witnesses, and he simply … stared. He took a single step forward and grasped the handle to the door… then slowly, reluctantly, released it.

“Fuck.” He whispered as he turned around and walked back toward his bedroom.

---

Go Gym - Later that morning

“So what’s this about?” Gabriel asked the moment the buzzer sounded and the door that led between the exterior hallway and the gym where he and Odette worked their magic with the next generation of wrestling stars opened, allowing one of the Stevens’ prized pupils, Fenris, to step inside. Take note, Fenris was alone, as Aron did not accompany him, and he was wearing his street clothes of his “White Wolf” cap worn backwards, a white, colored Polo shirt and blue jeans with strategic rips and his usual flip flops - and without a gym bag in sight.

Gabriel took note of these facts as well, then looked away from the training session he currently had going on inside of the ring to give Fenris his full attention. He looked like he had a rough night of it, perhaps having a binge? Not knowing Fenris had truly been bothered by Kris’s announcement and other things that had been plaguing his mind these past several days. Making an effort to lighten the mood, Gabriel asked, “You’re not scheduled for a session here for two days. I don’t think Josh can handle another so soon.”

Fenris paused and stole a glance inside of the ring to the aforementioned student, and noted the young man quickly blanche white and look away, resuming his sparring match that Odette was overseeing personally from the inside of the ring.

Fenris shook his head in answer and folded his arms uncomfortably over his chest. “Nei.” he answered, slipping momentarily back into his native tongue. “I just had a couple of favors to ask.” This brought Gabriel to his full and interested attention, as Fenris was not known for asking favors from anyone. If he was unable to handle a situation on his own, he would be just as likely to simply do without.

“This should be good.” Gabriel said. “Should we go to the office?”

To which Fenris shook his head and answered, “No need. This won’t take long. I just wondered if you and Odette would mind if a trainer of mine came to the gym next week to help me get ready?”

“Maksym?” Gabriel inquired, but Fenris responded, “No, my other trainer. Kalei Hale.”

Gabriel had heard the name in passing from conversations with his student, the woman who had worked with him in Iceland when he had stepped back and taken some time away from wrestling. Gabriel said, “She the one that specializes in joint manipulation?”

“Mm.” Fenris nodded in the affirmative. “Hapkido. She is in Los Angeles right now, and is willing to come to Las Vegas, provided she has your leave to enter your gym.”

Gabriel blinked. That was ‘old school’ respect and beliefs right there, not being willing to enter another trainer’s gym to aid a student without express permission. Not even Fenris’s MMA coach and trainer. Maksym Petrov, had displayed that much given respect.

Finally Gabriel yielded with a nod, “Then she has it. O and I’ve let Maksym in here to help you in a couple past fights. Can’t see a reason why we should say no this time. Especially if she’s that respectful in the first place. Besides, I’d be interested in watching how she works.”

“Þakka þér fyrir.” Fenris thanked him. “She is definitely ‘old school’ in her style and beliefs.” He then looked around before adding coyly, “Just do not repeat that or else I will deny saying anything.”

Gabriel smiled brightly at the rare sense of humor shown by the otherwise grumpy student of his. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Now, what’s the other favor?”

And almost immediately, the smile on Fenris’s face fell and all levity between the two men forgotten. Gabriel immediately sensed that whatever this new favor was, it was going to be tough to agree to, let alone ask.

Fenris sighed and ran a hand through his long hair, before he finally said, “I need you to help me keep Aron away from the show when I fight Mercer.”

“What?” Gabriel frowned. “Why?”

“Because lately anything to do with Mercer and myself leads to him getting hurt.” Fenris answered, leaning back against a piece of training equipment. “This fight is going to be bad, Gabriel. I know it already. And Mercer is doing anything he can to distract me. He’ll go after Aron again if he gets half a chance. I-I just need you to keep him away from the show.”

“Really.”

The statement, not a question, was blurted out and caused both Fenris and Gabriel to turn around and find the younger Baltasarsson brother standing there, staring.

TBC...

---

Fenris was seated inside of an empty Go Gym, perched on the ring apron of the gym’s six-sided ring. He was leaning at the waist, staring toward the camera with his hands clasped together. The mood somber, and the empty gym reverberated with his husky accent.

“How many of you remember what it was like when Wolfslair was first signed to SCW?”

“I do. It actually wasn’t that long after I made my own debut in this sport in 2018. And even though back then I was totally and completely ignorant to the world of professional wrestling and most of the men and women involved in it, even I wasn’t ignorant to the electric buzz that went off in the locker rooms when the signing of Wolfslair was announced. Everyone went apeshit because they said the competition level went just that much higher, and they were damn right! The signing of Alicia Lukas really made everyone sit up and take notice because the woman had a vaunted reputation. Everywhere I looked on social media, it was Alicia Lukas this and Alicia Lukas that. Alicia won a new championship. Alicia defeated another rival in a fucked up match. She was all over the damn place and I am going to be honest; I felt just a little bit envious of the Bombshells division because of what I was told she was going to bring to it.”

“But I wasn’t envious for long because as we all know, Alicia didn’t come alone. Two other members of the famed Wolfslair tandem came along with her. Two men who were about to raise the bar against every man in the Superstar division, myself included.”

Fenris held up a hand and counted off with two fingers.

“Austin James Mercer, and not long after - Alex Jones. Now it didn’t take very long for Alex Jones and me to take notice of one another, and at first it wasn’t in a good way. He wasn’t fully aware of my world in MMA and I didn’t know who the fuck the man was. Ignorance tends to breed ill intent, and before you knew it, we were at each other's throats. But that’s okay, that’s alright. Because even I can admit when I’m wrong. I just don’t happen to have the chance to do so very often since it doesn’t happen often.”

He smirked.

“But I’m man enough to do so, and so is he. Almost as soon as the fire between us was lit, it was extinguished. We both admitted fault and we simply went on from there in our own respective career, and should our paths cross inside of the ring, so be it. No harm done. He looked into my MMA career and who I was, and I started watching his matches and…”

Fenris shook his head before looking again into the camera. He acknowledged with a slight nod.

“Respect. I had it straight away, and he for me. It’s been that way ever since. We’ve had a few matches against each other. Singles. Tag Teams. But none of them were born from hatred or professional jealousy. He was - is - a ring veteran, and I walked away from every match I had with the man having learned something. Gabriel Stevens said I would be better for the experiences some men would provide me in the ring, and he was right. Alex Jones was at the top of that list where he remains to this day.”

“But what made the men in the locker room sit up and take notice back in `18 was when a relative newcomer walked through that door. Yes, even me. I mean, how can you not. Someone that stands 6’6” and clocks in at near 270, people tend to take notice. Myself included. I was the World Champion at that point, and the first thought that went through my head was that I had to meet this guy in the ring. The man was respectful to everyone he met his first time backstage in SCW. He introduced himself and shook every hand that was offered to him, and in some cases, hands that weren’t. For such a big man, he made you like him. And inside of the ring? He impressed. So it kind of makes me wonder, if that was the real Austin James Mercer way back when, or is the two-faced bitch we’ve come to know the past few months the real face this entire time?”

“I can see why you’re a bitter, bitter man, Austin. Frustration tends to do that. You had everything going your way for the longest time. You had the world in the palm of your hand, and then you suffered a few setbacks, and how do you react? A bigger man would have searched for where he had made mistakes and then looked for answers in how to correct his fuck ups. Not you though. You got angry and bitter. You started blaming everyone around you for everything going wrong in your life. Everyone except for who was really at fault, namely yourself. You just started acting like a colossal douche.”

“Now I'm hardly one to say anything about anyone losing their temper and venting. When I thought my career was growing stale and without direction, I took a break and went home to Iceland. To rest, rejuvenate myself and be with the family I do not get to see but for a few days each year. And that was BEFORE this Covid bullshit! Then I come back, and find one of the few men who had my respect without question had become a grade A bitch! Now, I’m no psychiatrist, but let’s take a look at the growing pattern that may be the root problem of what caused all of this.”

“Take Senor Vinnie for example. Total whack job from the neck up, but you can not deny what the man is capable of inside of the ring. His success rate speaks for itself; World Heavyweight Champion. Internet Champion. And do you know what both of those title wins had in common? He won both championships - from you, Austin. I admit that when Vinnie won the World title from you, I was more than a little surprised. At the time, I didn’t think he had it in him, but he proved me wrong. He even held onto it for a fair few months before Ben Jordan became the king of the mountain. But when you and Vinnie reignited everything and you were scheduled to defend the Internet Championship against him, I tell you; I had a feeling. I knew. The fact that the Internet title match took place 360 days after the World title match, almost a full year. At the exact same Supercard event, on board the exact same cruise liner. Exactly the same circumstances, different championships. The exact same result. Some might call it fate on Vinnie’s behalf, but I think it’s something different.”

“Vinnie simply had your number.”

“Then again, I’d like to think the same of me. After all, you and I have faced each other plenty of times before this upcoming match. Now a lot of people will stop and remind me of the inevitable fact; that it was you, Austin, that beat me for the World Heavyweight Championship, and at the same time, ended my unbeaten streak. I admit that. I’d be a liar to try and deny it. But what those same people tend to forget is that was the second one-on-one encounter for the title that we had. The first time, I beat you. That second defense? That was MY idea. Not Christian Underwood nor Mark Ward. Mine. You gave me the toughest defense of my entire reign, and I wanted to experience it again. Granted, it bit me in the ass, but that was the kind of champion I took pride in being.”

“Can’t exactly say the same about you though, can we? Because after you beat me, the only time I was offered a return match was when I was one of your THREE challengers in that Fatal Fourway match. And we both know you only kept that title by the skin of your teeth. I had that title won, and would have been a two-time champion had it not been for Ty West. But after you retained, did you seek me out and offer me the same second opportunity that I offered you? You. Did. Not. And why? Because the odds were in my favor. With the exception of that one match, how many other times did we face each other? Singles or tag teams? And how many of those times did I walk away the winner? You knew that the chances were likely I’d have taken that title right back off of you had I just been given a fair opportunity, but I wasn’t. By staff or by you. So it seems the habit of avoiding me started a couple of years ago, and hasn’t eased up yet.”

“And isn’t it a goddamn shame that it took your own Wolfslair teammate to finally coax you out of hiding and into the ring with me at Blaze of Glory IX? What does it say when the people that you surround yourself with these past few years are openly working with me to take you down? Helping me lead you from out of hiding and FINALLY get you where you can not run and hide? And how terribly sad is it when my brother, the nicest person you could ever meet, is the one that tricked you into facing me in my element? Lion’s Den. Where a snapped finger or dislocated shoulder won’t save you from worse! And trust me when I tell you, once that cage door closes and you have nowhere to go, you will be experiencing worse than that day I put you on the injured list. Knock out, or submission. That is the only way that this one ends. There can be no other way.”

“I would have it no other way.”

Timeline -
A timeline is a display of a list of events in chronological order. It also happens to be a handy tool to use when recalling events in one of these here promos. Good thing too because it’s been quite a busy past two weeks for Kristjan and Aron Baltasarsson, so we thought we’d keep things simple and tell the full story in the simplest of ways possible.

Well, at least the best parts.

Las Vegas, NV - McCarran International Airport -
November 20, 2020

How often has this setting been seen over the course of the career of the “White Wolf” Fenris? Between family members and himself, Fenris had at one point been one of the more well traveled Superstars, second only to Ben Jordan or perhaps even Seleana Zdunich. But Fenris has relocated back to his native Iceland along with his brother Aron this past summer, June to be exact. Time had passed by slowly, although both brothers had continued to keep active in Reyjavik. While Aron took some summer courses at his alma mater, Kristjan aka Fenris furthered his competitive training by taking hapkido courses - or joint manipulation - under a Missus Kalei Hale.

But today, something special and surprising was about to occur.

The airport is a mecca for international traveling, responsible for people going to and from destinations that would circumvent the entire globe. But with COVID-19 ravaging the world and several nations implementing travel restrictions, the airport was busy -- but not nearly as flooded as had been seen in times past. Gabriel Stevens, a man of many distinctions -- two-time World Heavyweight Champion. Former and undefeated World Tag Team Champion. Hall of Famer. But perhaps most notably, a trainer of champions. Yes, that Gabriel Stevens, one-half of the Stevens proprietor of the famed GO Gym, the establishment responsible for so many top ranked stars in the world of professional wrestling.

Gabriel stood at the luggage terminal in the airport, watching and waiting as new arrivals from flights made their way down the stairs and escalators to greet friends and family. But this time, he didn’t come alone. His seven year old son Lucas stood at his side, an expression of excitement and anticipation that could only be understood by a child. It was later in the evening at McCarran, the sun had already set and night was slowly creeping in. Under most circumstances, Lucas would have been getting ready for bed, but once he had learned who was arriving, he had begged and pleaded with both dad AND mom until they relented and allowed him to accompany Gabriel.

“Dad?” Lucas gripped his father’s hand tightly, his voice muffled slightly by the mask he had been required to wear. “Where are they?”

Gabriel smirked. Lucas was more nervous about this than he had been on his last birthday. And that excitement had only been compounded the moment the announcement of the arrival of the flight from Iceland Air. It had about broken the boy’s heart when the brothers had left months ago. The running joke was Fenris’s behavior with children was rigid at best because he simply was not comfortable around them. But that did not stop kids, his own included, from being captivated by the man coined by Ben Jordan as “the angriest man in Iceland.”

But dad had seen the arrival well before the son had, mainly because he had purposely steered Lucas to watch the arrivals from the gates when he knew better. Gabriel knew that the international arrivals would come about a different way to the baggage claim, having to go through customs. So while Lucas stared ahead at the throngs of passengers arriving from local destinations, Gabriel’s own head was turned to the left, watching the customs arrivals. And the moment he saw the two familiar faces, he took his son by the shoulders and turned him around to face the same direction. And the way Lucas’s face lit up at the familiar sight of the brothers Baltasarsson and Kristjan’s beloved canine Kyssa, as they worked their way toward them, was reason enough for having brought the young one.

Kristjan and Aron had caught sight of Gabriel and his son only a split second before Gabriel had seen them. And neither were surprised that he had brought company. Gabriel had informed Kristjan in a video chat only days before that Lucas had been over the proverbial moon when he had been let in on this little secret. And they had known from long since that Lucas had developed a strong affection for the older of the two brothers. So while Aron reached out with that bright smile he was known for to clasp Gabriel’s outstretched arm, allowing Gabriel to reel him in for a friendly embrace, Lucas made a beeline right for Kristjan and Kyssa and enveloped Kyssa with his arms around her fuzzy neck, receiving a sloppy doggy kiss in return. Lucas then embraced Kristjan with a tight hug around the waist, about the best the child could do given the differences in height.

“Good to see you two.” Gabriel spoke fondly as he separated from Aron, then held a hand out to the volatile of the two siblings, a gesture that Kristjan at one point might have given pause, but now readily accepted.

Kristjan then looked down at Lucas and frowned. “Do I know you?” He asked in his thick accent, causing the boy to laugh. A laugh that only grew when Fenris reached down to scoop the boy up in one arm and the child wrapped his arms around Kristjan’s thick neck for a much more appropriate hug. There was a confident smile on Kristjan’s face, but it was a smile nevertheless.

---

Turnberry Towers -
November 20, 2020

Gabriel and Lucas had dropped the brothers off at their Vegas home at the Turnberry Towers immediately after picking them up at the airport, much to the chagrin of Lucas. This was done with the promise to Lucas that they’d see them tomorrow but it had to be under utmost discretion as their arrival was to be a secret until the evening of High Stakes X this coming Sunday. Less than forty eight hours, but to a boy the age of Lucas -- a lifetime! The Turnberry Towers was a forty-five story high rise complex just off the famed Las Vegas Strip, but still close enough to see and enjoy the nightlife of the “City of Sin.” It was  a painstaking process to find a home here in America, Las Vegas to be more precise, that satisfied the picky Fenris, but Turnberry did the impossible. It was everything Kristjan wanted. But we’ve been here before, plenty of times, so no need to go into heavy detail.

Having been gone for the past four months, several employees in the lobby of the high rise were startled yet welcoming when they had seen the two brothers enter. A real estate agent who had gotten wind of the brothers return to Iceland had even tried to pressure Kristjan into selling, but we’ll leave it to your (extreme) imagination as to how he responded. In Kristjan’s own words, “It’s MY fucking place!”

So try to imagine his surprise when they unlocked the door to their condo and found…

“What the fuck!?” Kristjan muttered as he was the first to set foot inside and saw across the front room and sound asleep on the sofa -- Dani Weston!?

“What is…?” Aron started to ask as he set foot inside and to his brother’s right, when he too saw the almost comical and puzzling sight, and his eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. Dani was sprawled out on the plush, white sofa, her arms curled around one of the pillows and was sleeping soundly. On the glass coffee table in front of her were the remnants of what seemed to be a snack feast; chips and dip, popcorn, raspberry tea bottles and open boxes of Milk Duds. Wait -- Milk Duds?

Kristjan and Aron shared a look before they walked forward, Kristjan almost subconsciously kicking his trademark flip flops off so his bare feet could be comforted by the soft, white carpeting. He and Aron both set their luggage aside and walked around the sofa, not bothering to wake Dani, who they only just now could see was drooling on the pillow.

“Remind me to burn that.” Kristjan quipped between tight lips as he stood now at the head of the sofa while Aron rested his forearms along the back. Kyssa walked up between the sofa and coffee table, her wagging tail going a mile a minute. Kristjan then just propped his hands on the arm rest of the sofa and leaned over to gaze down upon his ‘little sister’ upside down. And … they waited. Saying nothing.

Kyssa then inched forward after a brief wait, as if the loving pooch was growing irritable at the silent wait. She leaned in and gave Dani a ‘doggy smooch’ on the cheek, prompting Dani to elicit a giggle in her sleep and wipe at her face with her bare forearm. The dog then cold nosed Dani’s arm, causing her to start and her eyes popped open. She blinked away the bleary remnants of sleep, and she found herself looking into Kyssa’s bright blue eyes and she cried out, jumping back.

She then hit a brick wall and craned her neck backward and found herself looking upside down into her “big brother’s” frowning face and she cried out with a sharp shriek and tumbled off of the sofa and landed on the floor! Aron found himself laughing, but Kristjan just stared silently as Dani slowly righted herself, rising to her knees. She looked from Kyssa to Kristjan and Aron, then back to Kristjan.

“What -- what are you doing here?” She whispered in a timid voice that were it any lower, they would have been unable to have heard her. Almost as if she were afraid to ask, lest it be yet another dream where they had left and she had lost two of the most important people in her life.

“We LIVE here!” Kristjan finally barked in his sharp tone, having never found a need to censor himself with anyone, not even someone he adored. “What the fuck are YOU doing here!?”

Slowly finding herself standing, Dani just turned slightly at the waist and her fingers just barely motioned toward the 116x65 inch projection screen mounted on the wall between two shelving units that doubled as a state of the art entertainment center for the brothers and their guests.

“I…” Dani whispered. “You have a better TV and wanted a movie night and…” Her fingers motioned toward the mess she had left on the coffee table, and Dani benign Dani, she quickly grabbed at the snack remnants to start tidying up when she froze. She looked up at the brothers, Aron with a bemused smile and Kristjan who kept that perpetual stare. It was then the proverbial light bulb switched on.

“Wait … you’re back?” She squeaked. “Y-you’re really here? I mean… really?”

Kristjan shrugged, and it was about as close to saying “DUH!” as the Icelandic grouch had ever come to. Dani clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes immediately started welling up. She walked right to Kristjan and wrapped her arms around him, and Kristjan just sighed and looked over her shoulder to his brother and rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief.

But Aron took note that Kristjan did not pull away from Dani’s hug. In fact, he returned it.

---

Turnberry Towers -
November 22, 2020

High Stakes X had just concluded, and as expected, the biggest night of the year for SCW had been a HUGE success. And Fenris had done just as he had wished, and shocked the world with his return. He got a huge ovation from the SCW Universe when he showed up as the special guest referee and judge for two SCU championship contests. Almost sending Caleb Storms into cardiac arrest was just icing on the cake. He and Aron had been welcomed back with open arms by friends and fans, but unlike events in the past before they had left, this time there was no big post-Supercard bash. At least, not one that had been enjoyed in years past where everyone, from staff to star alike, came together at a chosen Las Vegas hotspot to celebrate with drinks, food and a night of partying with the knowledge that as much as they’d regret it the next morning with multitudes of hangovers, they’d do it all over again in six weeks time! This time, there were smaller celebrations between closer circles of friends, a necessary sacrifice all thanks in part to this damn pandemic.

And Fenris and Aron? They were still getting used to being back on this side of the world and as such, their bodies and sleep schedules remained unadjusted. They met with Ben and Evie afterwards for a drink or two, but had just recently bid the Jordans a good night with promises to meet up and drink themselves into oblivion at a later time -- and returned to the Turnberry Towers.

Kristjan had opened the door cautiously, and would not have been surprised in the slightest had they found Dani asleep on the sofa -- again. The door had been shut and locked, Aron had taken a seat on the sofa as Kyssa climbed up for some much needed pampering from the younger brother. Kristjan walked toward the kitchen to retrieve something to drink when there was a very determined knock.

Aron sat upright as Kristjan paused and turned around, frowning as he walked past his brother and toward the door, “Who the fuck …?” He asked, but the moment the door was unlocked and swung open, the answer came in the form of Mackenzie Page and the rest of London Underground.

And without a word said, Mackenzie swung her right fist straight around and into the side of Kristjan’s face, a blow with such force it knocked him around and hard against the wall!

“FUCK!!!” He roared as Mackenzie casually strolled in through the door with a “Thanks, we’d love to come in!” and the rest of London Underground; Daniel Morgan, Osbourne and Charlotte Elliot waltzing in right past him.

“Can’t say you didn’t deserve that, mate.” Daniel smiled, shaking a finger at his fellow GO Gym graduate and yes, friend.

“DESERVE it!?” Kristjan yelled, rubbing his jaw. “What the FUCK was that for!?”

“What was it for!?” Mackenzie shot back, having taken the liberty of just strolling into the brothers’ kitchen and popping open their fridge to retrieve a beer, Charlotte following suit to get one for herself and the boys. Mackenzie popped the cap off like a pro and marched right up into Kristjan’s face, one of the few who would and could do so, and she aimed the bottle right in his face.

“You ASSHOLE!” She scolded. “I thought I warned you once before about pulling a stunt like this one you pulled tonight! You came back and didn’t tell us!”

“I’ve been back for two days and didn’t tell ANYONE!”

“Two - days!?” Mackenzie leaned back at the waist, lowering the bottle from her lips. “You’ve been back for TWO DAYS!?”

“Oh shit…” Daniel turned away with a smile, casually rubbing the back of his head as he took a bottle from Charlotte.

“Well what about HIM!?” Kristjan bellowed, waving an arm towards his brother, prompting Aron to exclaim “Hey!”

Kristjan said, “He’s been back too and didn’t tell anyone!”

Mackenzie turned around and her eyes bore into Aron, and she then said, “Sorry Aron, good to see you!” And Mackenzie wrapped her arms around the younger of the brothers for a hug, making Kristjan exclaim, “What. The. Fuck!?”

---

“I still remember the first time, the only time, that you and I faced each other, Bill.”

The light above the central training ring in the GO Gym turned on, basking the ring and it’s sole occupant, the “White Wolf” Fenris in a soft glow. The camera moved in, Fenris standing forward against the immediate corner, his forearms propped up on the surface of the top turnbuckle pad. The lone light above him gave his facial structure and muscle definition a profound shadow cast.

“September 29, 2019. Climax Control, the Caribbean. I went into that match knowing that I was going to be in the fight of my life. After all, you were a fucking bulldozer inside of the ring! Even though you only had a few inches on me and maybe forty pounds, you were built like a goddamn tank! You knew how to fight. You could take a beating and give one right back. You had a wealth of experience compared to me, you knew all the tricks and shortcuts a ‘veteran’ would know. I came out of that match the winner, and the only thing that could have possibly made it better would have been if the SCW World Championship had been on the line between us. I imagine that as hard as we fight without a title, having the top belt on up for grabs would have just made things even MORE extreme! And I won’t lie. I came out of that one match with an even more important result;”

“You earned my respect. I don’t throw that around lightly, Bill. I earned a living fighting professionally, and it takes a lot to make me stand up and take notice of a man based on his ability to fight and defend himself. Ben Jordan. Austin James Mercer. Jake Raab… and you. My four toughest opponents, past and present.”

Fenris casually glanced up and shrugged.

“Okay, Caleb Storms too. Don’t laugh, the kid has balls of steel! But this is about you, not in the past. The present…”

“When I finally secured a contract to return to SCW, I spent the entire next week wondering who my first opponent would be. Would it be someone that I fought before, maybe Ben or Alex Jones? Would it be someone else entirely new, like Todd Williams or Lincoln Daniels? No, it was you. Imagine my surprise… imagine the thrill! Anyone who knows me, a real fight, real competition … that is what I want most! And to get all that rolled into one with another match against you … and then I started looking back over what’s been going on with you since I left and it leaves me wondering…”

He gnawed at his lower lip and shook his head.

“What the fuck happened to you? What happened to that roughneck bad ass that gave pause to so many men stepping inside of the ring with him? What happened to the veteran who dominated in the old Asylum Wrestling Alliance and was a living legend!? Even in SCW, even though you haven’t quite grasped the same level of success -- YET -- that you did there, you were still a man that some feared, but all respected! But Bill…”

Fenris held his hands out imploringly.

“What. The fuck. Happened!?”

“I remember days where you made headlines in SCW, getting yourself involved in some of the most hard fought matches AND storied rivalries out of ANYONE! But lately? The most notable thing you got involved in was some stupid fucking relationship between your dog and a cactus! I mean, seriously!? You had matches against the likes of, well -- me, but also Griffin Hawkins **coughs*quitter!**coughs**! Jake Raab! Alex Jones! Kris Ryans! And that -- THAT -- is what you’re going to be most remembered for in closing out 2020! Your dog having a love affair with ‘Pete the Cactus!’ That’s not just demoralizing, Bill. It’s … it’s just sad!”

“The only good thing that came out of that entire catastrophe was some kick ass matches you had with Vinnie, but even that didn’t last long enough for people to sit up and once again take notice of the man I know damn well you’re capable of being! You are Bill ‘the Fucking Bulldog’ Barnhart! Not the caretaker of Senor Vinnie! That man may be unhinged but the one thing he does not need is a babysitter! What YOU need, Barnhart, is to remember who the hell you are!”

“Okay, yes! You surprised people when Kris Ryans made his big return to SCW, and you defeated him in his first match back, setting his comeback back by a fair few weeks. Kris is one of the best wrestlers inside and out of the ring, but what did the reactions to that result say to you? What does it say when people were openly and admittedly surprised that you beat him!? That he was the clear favorite to walk away from that match as the winner? People called it a goddamn upset! Does that not speak volumes to you that there is something about you that needs to change!? That the only one close to you that has anything remotely close to a winning streak is your wife who hasn’t even been competing a quarter of the time that you have?”

“You have gotten title shot after title shot, in both singles as well as teaming with your wife, and what had happened!? Each and every time you come close, but just not close enough! I would have had you pegged to have been at LEAST the Roulette Champion by now! Now THAT title was made for a man like you! But Roulette, Internet, World -- Mixed tag! The bosses have thrown title opportunity, one right after the other, in your lap and you just don’t take advantage of them the way that I know you’re capable of! Why do they give you so many chances at titles? Well in my opinion, it’s because they believe in you! As they should because I know damn well i do, but I also think that maybe you’ve grown too accustomed to getting all those title shots handed freely to you! You’ve grown too comfortable Bill.”

“You’ve gotten soft.”

“And now, you probably think that you’re going to have a repeat in the success against me that you had against Kris. And okay…”

Fenris smiled genuinely and chuckled.

“Let’s just say for fun that you do walk away with the win on Sunday. All it is going to say is that you and I tied each other for a number of wins against the other, and we’ll just need one more. A tie breaker. Ask Austin. Ask Ben. The only two men to date who have gotten wins over me. Ask them what the next match after that win against me is like. If anything, I fight harder. I may not come out the winner, but I sure as shit make them wonder what the hell they got themselves into going in the ring against me a second time!”

Fenris then stopped leaning against the corner and stood upright, his hand propped on the turnbuckle.

“Do you know the actual traits a bulldog is known for Bill? Considering you own one, I should think you do. A bulldog has a reputation for courage which yes, fits you perfectly. But a bulldog is also known to be extremely docile, and more of an affectionate sort than a fighter. I don’t know, maybe that’s your problem as of late, Bill. Maybe you’re taking the ‘Bulldog’ moniker of yours too literally. Now, on the flip side? What about a wolf?”

“Complex. Highly intelligent…”

Fenris held his arms out and smiled before he continued.

“... Extremely loyal to family. And extremely aggressive. Sound familiar Bill, hm? Remind you of anyone? Is it any wonder why I was given the name Fenris, after the Norse wolf of legend? No, I did not give myself that ring name. It was given to me! Think about it Bill, and maybe things will go easier for you and you can get that head of yours back on right -- right before I kick it off.”

“Wolf -- versus Bulldog. Is there any doubt as to the outcome?”

 <img align=left src= "http://www.geocities.ws/scwmaterial/Pictures/FenrisPicture01.jpg" height=326 width=369>Reykjavík, Iceland -
Borgarholtsskóli Primary School

Flashbacks. Don’t you just love them? They give us a chance of taking a stroll down memory lane and visiting times past, if for no other reason than to help a story in the present to move forward. They are a useful tool when one wants to explore the characterization of what made somebody the person they are. For example, a great many people know “the White Wolf” Fenris by who and what they see week in and week out on social media as well as where he has made his mark in the professional wrestling industry, Sin City Wrestling. But therein lies the point; what you see now is the destination, the proverbial “end of the journey” even were it not the end. But what about the journey itself? What about when and where that journey first started?

Fenris, as you might recall, is an intensely private person. He dislikes anyone attempting to get too close to delving into his private life which he prefers to remain just that -- private. The only reason anyone had even found out about his sexuality was because of a lack of judgement between Kris Ryans and himself, and an outside source who wished to use it to their advantage in making some extra money. His family had not even known. And everything else about him? His personal as well as private life, he holds close to him. And only a handful of those he cares about as family and friends know what he’s willing to share.

So, if you don’t tell him I shared the following with you, I certainly won’t.

The school grounds are somewhat familiar territory for those who have kept up to date on SCW’s first Icelandic Superstar. It was where Kristjan and all of his siblings had attended until graduation, but this goes back a little further than even that, as Kristjan had not even reached the age of thirteen yet. The school day had not even officially started yet, and there was already a crowd of rowdy children in front of the school, gathered in a semi-circle around two boys who were on the ground, swinging their fists into one another's heads and bodies. Until one lad, slightly leaner but with a definition to his slight build even then, had worked his way on top of the other boy and effectively pinned him down and rained blow after blow into his exposed face!

Until school officials raced onto the scene, having been alerted at the impromptu brawl, and it took three male teachers to drag the twelve year old Kristjan off of the other boy who was being assisted to his feet by a fourth teacher and the school nurse…

***

The office of the school’s headmistress, Missus Agneta Finnvarðsdóttir was quiet, reserved. The fifty-something year old woman had a steel reserve to her, and when dealing with the actions of well over five hundred students and fifty faculty members, she had to. But she was also reserved, and kind. The students, even those who had the proverbial chip on their shoulders (such as Kristjan for example) could not describe her as anything but fair.

That was why Kristjan’s parents, Eva and Benedikt, had been called in for a private meeting with her over what had happened, as opposed to her simply suspending their son, or worse; expelling him. Either which would have been a just course of action.

As she sat behind her desk, Eva and Benedikt sat on the opposite side. Both with concerned expressions on their faces, and you could simply read the embarrassment that both were feeling. After all, what parent wanted to be called into their child’s school over such things? It reflects badly on them, or at least that is what they believed.

With her elbows on the cusp of her desk, and her chin resting on steepled fingers, Agneta (we are NOT repeating that woman’s surname!), simply started this parent-teacher meeting with a simple yet profound statement, “Kristjan has an anger problem.”

“I don’t understand.” Benedikt replied. “My son gets into a scrap or two and you simply assume he has anger issues?”

“He fights all the time.” Was the headmistress’s only response, to which Benedikt leaned forward in his seat with a perplexed expression, “Why is this the first time that I’m hearing about this?”

Headmistress Agneta said, “We’ve sent messages home with him each time.” Which only caused Benedikt to turn and look at his wife, and Eva was unable to look her husband in the eyes. He already knew how protective she was over her children’s welfare, and she had hidden this from him for one reason or another; either because she was worried how he might punish Kristjan, or to protect the image most fathers have of their sons, especially their eldest one.

Just ten feet away, outside of the office where his parents were currently meeting with his Headmistress and most likely discussing certain repercussions for his fight with Unnar, the twelve year old Kristjan sat on the center chair that rested up against the office wall. His face was downtrodden, yet defiant. He looked down at the book bag that was huddled on his lap and against his chest, refusing on principle to look up even though he knew the secretary was stealing her own looks his way. Judging him. He knew if he looked up and saw her watching him, he’d say something that he’d regret -- especially when his mom and dad were sitting just a few feet away. He bore his own ‘war wounds’ from the fight earlier, as his bottom lip had been busted open and a lovely shiner was forming under his left eye. Still, he gave as good as he got.

Benedikt sat back once more and exhaled gently, rubbing a hand along his chin. He asked, “So, what happens now? Are you going to suspend him? Expel…?”

“No, no!” Eva objected at the mention of expulsion. She held up a hand for emphasis as she said, “Kristjan is a good boy!”

“”I’m aware he is -- deep down.” Headmistress Agneta said with that warm smile that had set many a students’ minds at ease. “Which is why I did a little research for Kristjan’s benefit while waiting for you to arrive.” She slid a small stack of papers across the surface of her desk.

“What sort of ‘research’?” Benedikt asked as he took the papers and leafed through them while Eva leaned over in her seat to have a look as well.

“After-school activities that might be beneficial for him.” Agneta answered. “The school counselor helped me, but like me, he believes that Kristjan’s anger issues are why he has been getting into so many altercations with his fellow students. These…” She motioned to the papers. “... Might give him the needed outlet.”

Eva said, “But he is already on the football team, and swimming.”

That was a fact about Borgarholtsskóli, that it had an extensive sports scheme to better fulfill the needs of their students, both male and female. Basketball. Football. Golf. Ice Hockey. They were but a few. And Kristjan had been on two of the sports teams just because he enjoyed athletic encounters and had a desire to prove himself the best, even way back when.

Headmistress Agneta said, “And as wonderful as they are for him to learn the importance of teamwork and to build friendships, these… they may be better suited for his individuality.”

“Boxing??” Eva read from the list of after-school activities, then shook her head. “No. Absolutely not!” Her son was handsome, and she did not want to risk his looks or his health in such a barbaric sport as boxing.

“”We can discuss it at home.” Benedikt said, to which his wife disagreed and asked, “What is there to discuss? He is not…” But Benedikt interrupted, “At home. He said simply, standing up and resigned, Eva did so as well. Benedikt shook the papers at Agneta who stood as well, and he said, “We will look into these. Thank you.”

“About his suspension…?” Eva added, to which the Headmistress sighed in resignation. “That I can not ignore. Fighting is strictly forbidden and he has to be punished this time. As it’s Wednesday, he is suspended for the remainder of the week. He can return to school on Monday.”

They did not like it, but it was better than the alternative of an expulsion. Eva and Benedikt said their goodbyes and quietly exited the office. Through the glass panel windows, Headmistress Agneta watched them gather up their son and leave the school with him in tow…

---

Las Vegas, Nevada -
Saxon Hotel

And before we continue on with our story, we have to make a fast forward journey back into the present. (Wait, is it fast forwarding when taking place in the present?) Look at me, getting all philosophical! We are, in fact, back in the current time frame, Saturday May 30th. The aforementioned Kristjan Baltasarsson was laying back on his bed in the two-bedroom suite he was sharing with his brother Aron. His laptop was open on his lap (how appropriate) and he had a surprisingly calm expression on his face. And small wonder why; he was currently talking to his beloved baby sister, Freyja, on video chat.

“So how are you feeling?” Kristjan asked, emphasizing, “Really.”

“I’m fine, Kristjan.” The little sister that even Ben Jordan had thought of as a little ‘sweetheart’ answered. Then when Kristjan stared hard into the camera and raised that single eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. “I swear, I’m fine!”

“You’re not just saying that so Aron stops worrying?” Kristjan asked, but she wasn’t fooled. While Aron was worried naturally, she knew also that her over-protective eldest brother was as well, perhaps even more so. Several weeks ago, their sister had been diagnosed with the dreaded COVID-19, and given her medical history, she was seen as high risk.

“I promise, I’m fine.” She smiled sweetly, even though he could tell that was not entirely the truth. She had dark circles under her eyes and her pallor was not as bright and exuberant as it normally was. She may have even lost some weight, but he couldn’t be certain. She said, “Doctor Bresadóttir tested me a second time and I’m in the clear. I’m just staying here at the cabin for an extra week or two. Just to be on the safe side.”

The exact same thing that their parents had told Aron and him when they had checked in on the family, considering their parents and older sisters had all been exposed. They were the lucky ones, each had come away unscathed. It had just been poor Freyja…

“Well,” Kristjan shrugged, offering the slightest of warm smiles. “You can’t blame us for worrying.”

“Really?” She teased. “Even you?”

“Don’t get cute.” He said, shaking his head but she smiled regardless, saying with an impish smile of her own. “It’s what I do best.”

“Love you.” He said two of the hardest words in any language, especially when you had walled yourself off from the pains of human emotions so many years ago. “Love you too.” She smiled, waving farewell to her big brother before the screen went dark, the video chat ended. Kristjan reached up with his hand and closed the lid of the laptop, his blue eyes staring off at nothing in particular. Kyssa had curled up against his side and she lifted her head up, having awoken from a brief snooze, and was gracious enough to allow her master to scratch her in her favorite spot, right behind the ears.

The sound of the shower being shut off was heard, and a moment later Aron emerged wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his slim waistline. True, in Iceland nudity was common, even in public and the brothers had taken to being without a stitch on when they had been home at the Turnberry Towers, but this was the Saxon Hotel. And a recent incident where the hotel maid did not realize Aron was in the shower led to an embarrassing situation. Well, embarrassing for Aron. Fenris had laughed himself hoarse.  He took the other towel that was slung over his left shoulder and started rubbing at his hair and cast a sidelong glance at his distracted brother.

“How is she?” He asked, and distracted, Kristjan started and turned his head to Aron silently, and Aron repeated his query.

“Freyja. How is she? Is she alright?”

Kristjan turned his head back away and simply nodded. “Just like mom and dad said. She’s a bit worse for wear but recovering. Doctor gave her a clean bill of health.”

Kristjan could hear the sigh of relief escaping from Aron, as his words rang true, “Good!” Aron opened the dresser and fetched a simple ensemble for the afternoon/evening, a pair of jeans and a sleeveless muscle shirt. He turned around to return to the restroom to change when he noticed the hard look on his brother’s face. Or more so, a look directed at nobody and nothing.

“What is it?” Aron asked. Kristjan turned his head back to him and said, “We need to talk.”

---

Reykjavík, Iceland -
The home of Fenris

And just like that -- **snap!** -- we are back in the past! Not even an hour after we had last left off. We’ve oft visited the home of Fenris in times past, so no real need to bore you with details of its setting. If you’d like to know more about the house he and Aron grew up in, go read some past promos. Or look at the pictures he’s posted on social media. In the meantime…

“So who did he beat up THIS time?” The eldest sibling Viktoria said with a condescending smirk on her face as she leaned heavily on the edge of the dining room table, practically corning Kristjan in his chair as her right-hand and sister Elin stood on his other side.

Elin smiled in her own wicked way, saying, “Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he got beat up? I mean, look at him!” The two sisters laughed at their fuming brother's expense, but that was brought to a halt when he suddenly leapt to his feet, confronting them. They had a love for tormenting their siblings, but bitches though they were (if you ask Fenris), even they knew there were times when a line wasn’t to be crossed and they just crossed it! But before he could say anything that would reduce either or both sisters to tears, their parents entered the dining area.

“Out!” Benedikt ordered the sisters, then pointed at Kristjan himself. “You were not told to get out of your chair. Sit. Now!”

“Why do we have to leave??” Elin practically wailed in protest, as Viktoria joined in, “This affects us, too!”

“That’s what you say every time you want to listen in on something that’s none of your business!” Kristjan said right back to her. Both sisters look to their parents, as if silently hoping they’ll rescind the order to leave and (maybe) reprimand their brother for what he just said, but neither happens.

“Go!” Eva ordered, and both sisters gave their brother a hateful glance as they walked out of the kitchen. Only they were stopped briefly enough for their father to add, “And if you’re caught trying to listen in, you’ll get it as bad as your brother!”

The pair reluctantly left and headed for their bedroom upstairs, while Eva and Benedikt turned to their son, and it was his mother who started, “Do you want to explain what happened?”

“I got into a fight.” He muttered half-heartedly.

Eva said, “Yes dear, of that we are well aware. Your father and I were both called from work and lost half a day’s pay to bail you out of trouble. Again. My question is, why? Why did you beat up another boy??”

“He bumped into me!”

His parents waited for more, a possible further explanation or … something, but nothing more was forthcoming. They shared a look, and Benedikt turned back to him and said, “That’s it? That’s all the boy did? Bump into you?”

“He didn’t apologize.”

“Kristjan…” Eva started to say but benedikt had enough of her coddling of the children, and he took charge, interrupting his wife. “This is going to stop. As of right now! Son, I know you may not understand this, but every time you get into a fight, every time you cause trouble at school, it reflects badly on your mother and me! Do you have any idea what your school must think of us as parents??”

“Is that what this is all about?” Kristjan asked, looking between the two. “How I’m making you look?” But their stare between them in his direction caused whatever further lip he was delivering to end and fast. Bad ass though he might be, he was still respectful of both his Mother and his Father.

“Of course not Kristjan.” Eva reached over and placed a comforting hand on her son's shoulder. She wanted nothing more than to calm him, to help him. But because of his anger, she was at a loss at how to do so. She said, “But honey, you have to understand the spot that your actions have put your father and I in. It is about our self-image. If you keep doing what you're doing, you're going to end up expelled! That is just not something that the headmistress is going to be able to put off any longer!”

“I thought you had friends at school.” His dad observed, and Kristjan mumbled, “I do.”

Eva said, “Well if you're not careful, you won't be going to this school much longer and you won't be seeing your friends as often, if at all!”

“Is that what you want?” Benedikt asked, and sighing in defeat, they watched as their son shook his head in the negative. The father then asked, “So what then are we going to do about it?”

Kristjan just kept his eyes downcast onto his hands on the edge of the table. Taking charge, Benedikt said, “For starters, if you think that you're going to just lay around the house while you're suspended from school, then you have another thing coming. Until you go back to school on Monday, you are doing all of the cooking, and all of the cleaning. And, you are taking care of your little brother and sister for the entire weekend.”

Kristjan immediately protested, “Wait! So if Viktoria and Elin make a mess…”

But Benedikt understood this protest and stood by his son this time, “Then they'll be responsible for it. But everything else? You're taking care of. Now go to your room!”

Kristjan slid the chair out and slowly stood up, feeling half-heartedly as if he had somehow gotten off easy. That is until…

“But before you go, take these.” Kristjan turned around just as Benedikt slid the papers given to Eva and himself from the Headmistress.

Kristjan picked them up with a wary glance at them, asking “What’s this?”

“Something that Headmistress Agneta thought might be beneficial to you. Benedikt answered. “Some after school activities. Your mother and I want you to pick out a few tonight, then discuss them with us this weekend. You’ve had far too much free time on your hands to allow whatever is pissing you off to fester!

“”Just…!” His mother had to get a word in. “No boxing…?”

Kristjan just rolled his eyes as he turned and headed upstairs, and Benedikt turned a bemused smile to his wife and said, “I don’t see why he shouldn’t. God knows he’s had enough practice at school lately!”

---

Las Vegas, Nevada -
Saxon Hotel

Now dressed, Aron sat on the edge of his bed. His head was down and his forearms wrested on his knees. He had his fingers interlocked, as he took in everything that his brother had just discussed with him. Kristjan sat expectantly on his own bed, now upright with one leg pulled up and his own arms draped on his bare leg.

Aron looked up and asked, “I had a feeling this was coming. Not saying you’re wrong. But…” He shook his head. ”Are you sure? I mean, your wrestling career…”

“Has pretty much hit a standstill.” He looked nowhere in particular as he shook his head, chewing at his bottom lip. “I’m not getting anywhere I want to be. Ben has had my number. I just don’t think there’s anything left for me right now.”

He looked to his brother and said, “I think it’s time to go back to Iceland.”

---

That same dusky gym last seen on this past edition of Climax Control, eight days ago. Same dim lights, same haze in the air. Same octagon ring enclosed by the cage -- and the same “White Wolf” Fenris standing inside.

“Before we get to the heart of this matter, I have something else I want to address first. I have somebody that I want to thank, and that somebody is Ben Jordan. Now you might be asking me why I'm thanking him, when he has absolutely nothing to do with the fight that I am scheduled to have in just over a week with Jake Raab. It doesn't have anything to do really with SCW, but more so to do with a loss that the wrestling world suffered just over a week ago. A young woman, a Joshi wrestler by the name of Hana Kimura took her own life because she was the victim of cyberbullying. Now anyone who knows me well enough, knows that I have a particular disdain for bullies. Especially cyberbullying! If you don't have the balls to speak up about or against someone to their face, and you feel the need to do it from behind the safety of a computer screen? That doesn't make do anything more than a FUCKING COWARD!”

“Now, that being said, this is where my opponent Jake comes into this. For months it seemed that Jake, in a sense, has been the victim of cyberbullying on social media. It seemed on a weekly basis, mostly one of two people would be posting tweets about Jake. Insulting him, talking down on him, his family name, his accomplishments inside of the Ring. Now granted, those tweets came from mutual peers in SCW where both I have met him inside of the Ring, but the simple fact that Jake did not have a social media account with Twitter so that he could not only see these tweets firsthand, but also answer to them or defend himself, that, is by the very definition of the term, cyberbullying!”

“Enter Ben Jordan. It wasn't too long ago where it appeared that even ‘Saint Ben’ had his breaking point and he went off on both of these men, and defended Jake Raab himself. Ben may not have named any names, but he went off and everyone who is anyone in SCW, SCU or GRIME knew exactly who he was talking about. I can't remember ever seeing Ben Jordan lay into anyone verbally or on social media the way he did on May 4th. And to do so, depending on a man that only a handful of our peers, myself included, respect? To that I have to say thank you. Your defense of Jake only makes the spite against him even sweeter.”

“Now this brings me to the man himself, Jake Raab. Given how I started this whole little chat between us, I bet you're feeling pretty good about yourself, aren't you? You stepped up to the plate against one of your personal tormentors and you put him down and defeated him. And I don't know if it's because of what then Jordan said, or your personal accomplishment in that match, but I'm pretty happy to see that not a single word has been set against you since. But if you think that win gives you any kind of advantage or momentum going into our fight inside of the cage, and let me remind you that you're not the only one who has secured a win right before Into the Void IX.”

“Do you remember? I can't imagine it would be easy to forget, considering it was Ben Jordan in myself against Mark Cross oh, and who else? Go that's right! It was you Jake! You were the partner from Mark Cross, and what again was the end result of that match? I believe that it was Ben and myself, not Mark and yourself, who walked away from that match as the winners. Granted, I may not have been the one who secured the actual win, but a victory is a victory nonetheless. And I haven't suffered a loss since I was beaten by, you guessed it, Ben Jordan!”

“I’m not even entirely certain that any win would really count as momentum going into this fight with you, because every weekend or every loss that either one of us has enjoyed or suffered, has been a wrestling match. But this isn't a wrestling match that either one of us are in, now is it? This is a fight, a Mixed Martial Arts fight inside the MMA cage! You and I Jake? We are both going back to the Grassroots of our Sports training. Before either one of us ever even thought about a joint into the sport of professional wrestling! The question then on everyone's Minds, would be simply who has the edge. Who has the advantage in training and experience inside of the cage?”

Fenris paused, and tooked upright in silent thought and contemplation while tapping a forefinger to his chin.

“Not an easy question to answer, is it? Although I'm certain that both of us are going to go into this fight thinking that not only are we the best, but we've had the best at our disposal as far as training and history inside of MMA a sport. I spent the majority of my MMA career in Elite XL, and I ruled two separate weight classes; Two-time Champion Super Middleweight and one time Light Heavyweight. Nine wins. Four losses. And only one of those losses was due to a reverse decision which cost me the Light Heavyweight Championship. But then again, if you did your homework Jake, I’d dare say that you were already aware of the fact.”

“Now where training is concerned, that is where I am confident to say I had the absolute best possible! I’m not just talking about my amateur days before I went pro. Back then I had a slew of men around me at all hours, training me. Making endless lists of demands of me in both body and soul, to make damn certain that I would be ready for whatever fight my coach had lined up for me. But they also pushed me that extra mile because they knew -- they KNEW that I had everything it took to turn pro, and when I did, I would need to take it one step further as far as trainers went.”

“That’s where Maksym Petrov came into play. I’m sure you know the name, Jake. There was nobody better in MMA than Maksym. The man was and is, a fucking legend! Thirty three fights in his professional career. Twenty eight wins, and five losses. And every single one of his victories was by submission! I came into MMA trained in boxing, Judo, Muay Thai and Jeet Kune Do. But that wasn’t enough. Not in Maksym’s mind if what he wanted to mold was a World Champion. Where Gabriel and Odette taught me the professional style of wrestling, Maksym taught me everything I know of the catch-as-catch submission style. Four of my wins during my career in Elite XL came by submission, and I wish more of my wins in SCW came the same way.”

Fenris shrugged playfully.

“But what can you do? But I think, no, I hope -- that I have made my point abundantly clear. I respect you Jake, maybe more so than any other Superstar in the men's division does. Where people would take shots at you, you were the only one who stepped up when Ben Jordan and myself both laid out open challenges. Maybe that's why you were the target of cyberbullying. Because the men who targeted you didn't or couldn't do the same as you did. Nobody else answered our challenge. Just. You!”

“And then you managed to take my Challenge and sweeten the pot. I had simply assumed that you and I would meet as we've done before, in a wrestling match where, well not to sound cocky, but where I’ve dominated. But no! You went a step further and asked for our meeting to not be a professional wrestling match, but a Mixed Martial Arts fight! And to that I have to say…”

Fenris clapped his hands enthusiastically!

“Bravo, Jake! Because of you, Sin City Wrestling is going to have another first! Now of course one or two people may have pointed out that there have been MMA fights on the SCW banner, but those have been promoted by SCU, not SCW! Our fight, you and me Jake? We are the first-ever MMA fight sanctioned and promoted by SCW! And the best part about this entire situation between us? It's the simple fact that in all of history, there can be only one first in anything. We are the first MMA fight ever for SCW…”

Fenris took a step up to the mesh cage and peered through it, and all humor and good nature has left his eyes.

“And I will be the first winner.”

 
Las Vegas, Nevada - GO Gym
Last week

The estate of the Stevens clan never failed to impress those who paid a social call to the family that called it home. Two stories with multiple bedrooms and baths, it was as close to a mansion as you might be lucky enough to find in this Las Vegas neighborhood. The closest to match it would be -- well, Synn’s estate. It would seem that grand taste ran in this wrestling family of sorts. It was obvious that everyone was home, as all the family vehicles were parking out front in the driveway that wove its way around the front gate and before the house itself. The recent Corona virus had caused much of the nation to go into seclusion, or as most called it, a self-quarantine. Gabriel and Odette were no different, preferring to keep their family safe and at home, only leaving when absolutely necessary.

The white Mazda MX pulled into the drive and slowed to a crawl until it came to a stop behind Gabriel’s own Bugatti Veyron. Once the engine was turned off, the driver’s door opened and there was an audible string of Icelandic words hollered out as the white, Siberian husky Kyssa crawled over the lap of her master Fenris and stood upright on the drive’s pavement. As opposed to simply waiting for him to exit his vehicle first and then let her out. She sat on her haunches and looked up at him with soulful eyes, all the better to cause him to bite back whatever string of words he might utter in her direction for using him as a human speed bump.

Not that he would. Daddy’s girl and all. Kyssa was a spoiled pup, and probably the only thing in creation that was safe from the Icelandic Superstar’s infamous and volatile temper.

Once he slid out and locked the door behind him, only then did Kyssa make for the front door of the manor, knowing full well by habit alone that it was where Fenris was heading. Fenris stood on the front doorstep and rang the doorbell, then rapped his knuckles on the hard wood for added measure. Kyssa was a bundle of energy, watching and waiting with her rear end twitching in anticipation, all the while Fenris stood rigid against the porch’s support columns with his arms folded. He saw a slight movement from out of the corner of his eye and was almost certain he saw the Stevens’ young boy Lucas duck back behind the shades. His suspicion was confirmed when he heard the young child call aloud, “Dad! It’s Uncle Grumpy!” Causing Fenris to frown, silently musing “What the f…”

When the front door opened and Gabriel slid carefully outside before one or both of his children or the family pets could make it outside.

“Uncle Grumpy?” Fenris confronted him, but Gabriel just smiled genuinely and answered the unasked question, “You can blame Aron for that one.”

“Mm hm.” Fenris nodded, his face remaining passive given the circumstances for his visit. He waved a hand toward the door Gabriel seemed to be standing in front of protectively and asked, “Not going to ask us in?”

Gabriel, however, found his eyes on Kyssa who stared up at him with tail wagging and he needed little invitation to kneel in front of her and give her neck and head a brisk scratch-a-thon. He casually looked up at his student and asked, “You brought her out? Is that safe?”

“No evidence dogs carry that virus.” He jetted a chin toward the door. “And you didn’t answer my question. Not going to ask us in?”

Gabriel sighed and stood upright. “I can’t.” He admitted. “Your brother is right inside, playing with Lucas and Hazel.”

“Good.” Fenris said, taking a step forward. “He’s who I came to see.”

But before Fenris could approach the door, Gabriel held a hand up to stop him from going any further. “Wait…”

“Wait? Wait for what?” Fenris asked. “Aron left the tour! I need to talk to him!”

Gabriel said, “Well the problem with that is right now, he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Feris said, “Well people can’t always get what they want!”

“Good, then we’re in agreement.” Gabriel placed a reassuring hand on Fenris’s arm. The Icelandic man looked down at the hand, Gabriel knowing his penchant for disliking physical contact, but Gabriel did not remove his hand. Instead he said, “Then you’ll understand why right now you shouldn’t talk to him.”

“No.” Fenris’s brow deepend further, as if that were even a possibility, and he said, “No. I do. Not. Understand!”

Gabriel sighed and his hand slid from off of his bare arm and the teacher said to the student, “Kristjan, Odette and I watched his match, and we saw what you did. We also know about that row you two had afterwards. Both of them. Aron left and came here to get some space, some time away. And instead of giving him time, you followed him. Trust me when I tell you that if you try and force him to talk before he’s ready and/or willing? It’ll work against you, not to your benefit.”

If Gabriel hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that the look Fenris shot towards the door of his home, the one where his brother remained behind, was almost -- helpless. Fenris exhaled and turned to him, his arms falling to his sides as he asked, “What the hell am I supposed to do, then!?”

Gabriel watched Fenris for a brief moment, then beckoned him with his hand as he set foot off of his front porch, answering, “Take a walk with me.” As Gabriel moved off the front path of his and Odette’s estate, Kyssa wasted little to no time in following, always a happy girl to go for a walk. And her morning runs had been recently interrupted thanks to the Corona Virus and social distancing. With a frown and brief pause, Fenris soon followed --

--And it was just that easily that Fenris had found himself wandering the private zoo sanctuary that was Odette’s dream, and being an animal lover himself, one that Gabriel had been only too happy to help fulfill. Several acres in size, it was an impressive feat for the Stevens, one that fans worldwide wanted a glimpse of, but thus far had been rebuffed. This was one piece of their lives that remained private, save for family and friends. This was for them and theirs, but more importantly, it was for the animals that called it home.

They paused outside of a large pen that housed the proverbial “king” of this zoo, the white tiger named Tyson that had once performed alongside Gabriel himself during his time as a Las Vegas magician and entertainer.

“So you saw.” Fenris said, more of a statement than a question. “You and Odette.”

“We did.”

“And? Are you going to take the piss out of me too?” Fenris asked. “Like Aron’s been doing?”

Gabriel said nothing to answer him, he merely gave him a silent shake of the head to say that no. he was not.

“Was what I did really that bad!?” Fenris finally asked. It surprised Gabriel that he was actually seeking out advice from someone that he respected as opposed to keeping to his own council, which was his usual routine in handling personal issues.

Gabriel took a moment but smiled, despite himself and despite the situation itself. He answered, “You mean as bad as he made it out to be?” He shook his head in the negative. “No. But you know how it is with family; everything is always emotional, and things tend to get blown way out of proportion. Pride does that to the best of us.”

“You speak from experience?” Fenris asked with his trademark smirk, to which Gabriel answered with a hard chuckle and answered, “I wasn’t known as the ‘Sin of Greed’ for nothing, you know.” He finally took his eyes away from Tyson and continued to walk, prompting Fenris to keep pace beside him with Kyssa bringing up the rear, her ears perked up and nose twitching at all of the new sights and smells surrounding her.

Gabriel said as they walked, “Look, I know that you want to protect your brother. I get that and admire it more than I can say. But in the end, whether or not he decides to pursue wrestling himself as a new career move is his choice.” Gabriel shared a look with his student, adding, “And his alone. You have to let him stand -- or fall -- on his own two feet. Difficult as that will be. Trust me.” he exhaled sharply. “I know.”

“Really.” Fenris murmured as the trio found themselves just outside of a caged enclosure, and a small ocelot was within the confines of the area fashioned into a replica of its natural habitat. It lay in a hammock that stretched between two trees planted firmly in the groundThe cat was beautiful, with a golden and white coat of fur and natural black stripes and spots all along its nimble body. It rose its head from slumber and peaked at the visitors, but seemed disinterested and laid its head back down to continue its snooze.

Gabriel stopped and watched the cat for a few moments, taking delight that Kyssa’s own interest as a caine had been perked up considerably. He then said, “Everyone out there knows that I love Despy like he was my own brother, and as far as I’m concerned, he is. Blood ties or not. So tell me, when you look at him, what do you see?” fenris paused, as if hesitant to answer, before Gabriel stressed, “Be honest.”

Fenris gave it some thought before he finally relented and answered, “Fun. Innocent.” Gabriel kept waiting and Fenris shrugged, finally admitting, “Man-child. Someone to protect.”

“That’s right.” Gabriel smiled, appreciating that Fenris was starting to understand the point that he was leading him to. “Like Aron, at first he wasn’t supposed to become a wrestler. Just I was, but he had a natural talent for it. His father and I weren’t too keen on the idea, because like you are with Aron, we didn’t want to stand there and watch the little guy get hurt. But there he was, right beside me from the very start. And it was hard enough when we were a tag team, but when I stepped down and he went solo? It was absolute misery standing back and watching him get thrown around the ring by guys three times his size?”

“He beat them though, didn’t he?” Fenris asked, already knowing the answer. Gabriel smiled and shook a forefinger at him, but not in a reprimanding way.

Gabriel congratulated him and said, “You just made my point, Kristjan. He won, and kept winning. There were men who hated him for his success. Look at the feud he had with a guy named Shipman. That bastard betrayed our entire family, and took all of his insecurities out on Despy. That match? Shipman was the first to ever make Despy bleed and it scared the shit out of me! But you know what I found out?”

Fenris just shook his head and Gabriel answered, “He didn’t need me to save him.”

“You just said Shipman made him bleed.”

“Oh he did!” Gabriel admitted, then stressed, “Badly, but the end result? Despy beat him. Now you put your brother and despy side-by-side and you tell me who looks the more likely to be able to defend themselves in a scrap.”

“There is a difference.” Fenris said. “You told me the kid had it rough.”

“And he did.” Gabriel said. “Despy had a rough time of it as a kid growing up. He learned how to fight by instinct, by rote. Aron didn’t have to because he always had you watching his back, ready to jump in and fight for him.”

Gabriel looked Fenris squarely in the eye and smiled, “It doesn’t make Aron any less capable.” And that being said, Gabriel turned to continue the walk through the zoo, and Fenris stayed put for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face before following.

---

“So, this is what I’ve been reduced to, hm? Stephen Callaway. You know when I talked about starting from the bottom up and mentioned his name, I wasn't entirely certain whether or not the staff and matchmakers would actually take me seriously and book this complete waste of my time. But looky here! No sooner do I open my big mouth and someone in the hierarchy thinks it would make for a good laugh to put the former Champion against someone who hasn't accomplished a goddamn thing since he's been here! Here I just come off one of the most incredible matches of my career against Ben Jordan for the world title, and I'm immediately put into a match with someone whose credibility ranks below that of a muppet! I swear to God I could not even show up for this match and I'd still have a better chance of winning than Stephen does!”

Fenris closed his eyes and held a hand, as if in waving away any protests from his fans or Stephen’s own admirers.

“Oh I know. Ever since Callaway first showed up here, all I've heard about was him being some sort of bring General. A veteran of the sport that is spent so much time on the top that he's practically getting a nosebleed walking around backstage. And when he talks, you can practically feel him expecting success to be just handed to him on a goddamn silver platter just because of his name, and the fact that he's been in this business for more than 10 years! But when I look back and pay attention to his track record, what the hell!?”

“Who has he beaten? What has he seriously done to warrant him thinking so highly of himself? A win over that Charmed reject warlock, Kedron Williams? Alex Rush (who I still say almost had him!)? Every damn time Callaway gets put into the ring with talent like Caleb Storms or Jake Raab, we don’t see anything of what he wants us to see! All we see is a so-called ring great who talks a great game, but when his back is to the wall, can’t back it up!”

He held both hands up and shook his head.

“Oh don’t get me wrong. Not saying the guy can’t do anything in the ring. I’m just saying he can’t accomplish anything. Big difference! If he had no skill at all, Mark Ward and Christian Underwood never would have hired him in the first place. But can’t help but think he must have sent them a collection of his matches he must have had twenty years ago, when he was actually still a thing because he sure as shit hasn’t done a damn thing to impress me or anyone else. I can just imagine the meeting between Mark and Christian, each one blaming the other for signing him to an iron clad contract in the first place.”

“Now some people might think I’m being hard on him and maybe even being a touch hypocritical since I admittedly run my own mouth. But the difference? When I do it, I can back it up. How many times have I been beaten in the past three years?”

He held up a hand and counted on one hand, “Austin James Mercer. Ben Jordan. And … Ben Jordan. Two men. Three losses. In THREE YEARS! So when you can say the same, Callaway, then maybe you can stop playing the victim card, acting as if the entire world is out to get you! All the better to explain your losses rather than to simply admit that you aren’t what you once were -- or that you desperately need help getting back into the winning pool! Whichever damages your ego less.”

He settled back and folded his arms, and perhaps most alarmingly -- smiled.

“So … Stephen Callaway. SCW has decided to throw the White Wolf a bone … only for me to chew it up and spit it out. And move onto an even tastier snack!”

Fenris then stood up and walked off-camera.

 
Out of the Shadow, Into the Fire

In the world as we know it, winter has come and gone, and springtime is just beginning to show its glorious face. But where we are now, what we witness  is a perpetual state of visual dismay. A season caught somewhere in the ‘tween. The sky is gray and overcast. The trees of the seemingly endless forest, withered and void of green. And all along the surface of the ground there was a rising mist, a fog that clouded the senses.

And within this seemingly endless void, there was no sound. It was a time and place of contemplation and reflection of both things that were and things that would soon be. And with no sound, it was all the more unnerving when the figure stepped through the fog, the mist parting itself as if it were its own singular entity, treating her with the respect she both desired and deserved. Clad in a drab, brown robe, hood drawn over her head, the elderly woman of endless years and knowledge, walked into the clearing where the only object was a stone stand with a book drawn closed and laying on its cold surface. She was of the Norn, one of a triad of goddesses. The keepers of all Celtic history, past and present.

She stood before the pedestal and opened the large tome to the center, allowing her fingers to 4eace down the parchment so old it threatened to wither and chip at a mere touch. On that one page was a perfect artist's rendering of a very familiar face. That of “the White Wolf” Fenris.

”I tell a story, one of a man who came from one world to another. A stranger to that which we know. A man who walked in, confident in the belief that he was destined to conquer this new world, much like he had done the one of old. And true to form, he did just that. In less than four months, he held this new world in the palm of his hand, and conquered all who crossed his path, wanting to topple him from the pinnacle of his kingdom.”

“That was then. Yet this new tale is not of the risen King, but one who stood at his side, as he had always done in life. One who watched over and cared for him, and protected the king in his own way. Despite the simple fact that the king was the dominant one of their shared bloodline.”

The wrinkled hand slid from the page of Fenris, to one of his younger brother, Aron Baltasarsson.

”Is it then time for a new King to arise…?”

Las Vegas, Nevada - February 2018

Of course you know the tale told before; the one where Kristjan Baltasarsson had come to the world of professional wrestling at Daniel J. Morgan and the rest of London Underground. And you have heard stories of the efforts between Gabriel and Odette Stevens collectively to incorporate everything Fenris knew in his MMA background to become this lethal hybrid of two worlds, and having done so quite successfully. But what about the other half of the Baltasarsson siblings, Aron? Was he content to simply sit there while his brother was inside of the ring, training with some of the very best? Because the Stevens at GO Gym ran such a rugged ship, that simply training was putting your very body on the line. Oh sure, Odette and Synn took it upon themselves to train Aron in the nuances of the business side of the sport, particularly Synn who was a record holding SCW Manager of the Year. Better for Aron to learn from experience how best to care for his brother from that standpoint while Fenris took care of business inside of the ring…

This particular day, Aron was enjoying a rare respite from his own teachings, and opted to stand at ringside while “Sxxxy” Shane Boswell and Despayre helped put Kristjan through this particular training phase. Gabriel believed it imperative for Kristjan to know how to handle opposition of varying sizes, since pro wrestling did not have restrictive weight classes like MMA did. Kristjan himself was no lightweight, weighing in at just under 210 pounds. So while Shane Boswell was considerably larger than him at 6’8” and almost 270, Despayre was smaller in stature at 5’6” and barely 160 pounds soaking wet.

And when permitted, Gabriel himself always insisted on being inside of the ring to take the lead in training, not wanting to be one of those pros that just took the paycheck and left the work for others to fulfill. Gabriel was more Kristjan’s size equal, and he was something of a technical wizard in wrestling -- magic pun be damned. Shane was a powerhouse and Despayre? While the little guy was an aerial wildcard, his style was too unique and unpredictable to have a class of its own. So between the three men, time and again, Kristjan was being taught not to adapt to different sizes, but different styles as well.

Aron watched with clear interest as Despayre made a grab for Kristjan, but Kristjan countered by dropping to his knees and taking the smaller man over with a fireman’s carry takedown. A week ago, that maneuver never would have been at the forefront of his brother’s thoughts, but that’s what a week of tutelage by the Stevens and their friends/family could do for you. It instilled a sense to both change and to adapt; just not too much. Gabriel was adamant that he did not want Kristjan’s style to change too much from his MMA experience. He was dominant during his foray in that world, so why mess with what works?

Kristjan’s advantage did not last long as he pounced on Despayre on the mat in the attempt to wrestle control, but Gabriel swore that it was harder to simply get hold of his “little brother” than it was to get a win over him. Despayre all but squirmed right out from under him and ended up in a seated position on Kristjan’s back where he grabbed two BIG handfuls of his long, sandy blonde hair and shook his head wildly while Kristjan cursed quite audibly in his native Icelandic.

What was that we were saying about a unique offense?

And Aron’s interest in the goings on inside of the ring was not lost on Gabriel who saw Aron’s rapt attention from out of the corner of his eye. Taking a respite from “officiating” this session, Gabriel turned the corner of the ring and approached Aron from the side.

“Your brother is having some trouble in there.” Gabriel observed with a light hearted manner, knowing as boisterous as Kristjan was, Aron was equally reserved. At least for now.

Aron smiled, despite himself. If he were to be perfectly honest, he was drawing a rather large amount of entertainment from watching Kristjan go through this. So much so that every time Kristjan’s angry glare shot outside of the ring, Aron was quick to smother the smile that he was experiencing.

Aron casually motioned inside of the ring, and he asked with genuine interest, “Is he always that way when he’s wrestling?”

“Despy?” Gabriel asked with a a slight frown, then nodded. “Absolutely. Kid never went through the same, formal training that I did. That your brother is. Just the way to take bumps and such. His dad and I pretty much agreed that he’s the most effective when we just turn him loose on whoever he’s in there against.”

“And that works for him?” Aron asked, to which Gabriel smiled, “Kid’s been pinned three times in eight years. You tell me.”

Aron silently mouthed, “Wow.” as Gabriel turned to continue keeping a close eye on things, in case Despayre took things too far or Kristjan lost that infamous temper of his. Again.  Gabriel continued talking for Aron’s own benefit, “Kristjan is adapting. Faster than I thought. When we first started his training, he never would have gotten his hands on Despy that easily. Now…?”

Gabriel then turned his head to finally address the interest that was etched all over Aron’s face. He said, “You need to consider stepping inside of the ring yourself.”

“Me?” Aron turned, his frown not hiding the small twinkle in his eyes; one that Gabriel noted easily enough. Aron shook his head and despite himself, denied the possibility. “It’s not what I’m here for. I’m not a fighter. I never was.”

“Your brother is a natural fighter, I’ll grant you that.” Gabriel fully acknowledged. “But you don’t have to be born a fighter. You can learn. And just remember; they’re words. Titles. Fighter. Wrestler.”

Aron smiled, admitting, “Well, I’m not either, I’m afraid.”

<HR>

Reykjavík, Iceland - Years ago

”What. Happened!?” The hard demand was uttered by the patriarch of their family, Benedikt. Usually when word came about that there had been a fight at school, all in the family simply assumed that it was kristjan who had been involved. Only, not this time. Not yet.

Seven year old Aron had wandered in the front door, looking every bit the victim that he had actually been. Hair mussed. Lip split. Hair mussed up. His school uniform shirt disheveled and the sleeve torn. His trousers caked in mud from where he had been shoved onto his knees, palms scraped up. Oh sure his school, just as many the world over, ‘claimed’ that they had no tolerance for bullying. ’Claimed’ being the operative word.

“Sigurður Jónsson.” Aron sniffled, wiping his eyes with the ball of his hand. The family knew the classmate of Aron’s somewhat; he was a year or two older having been held back, and probably had their son outweighed by a good hundred pounds. Not of muscle, but over indulgence in fast food thanks to his equally over indulgent parents.The fear was all-too real for poor Aron and how his parents would react to know he had gotten into trouble at school. The one rule that mom and dad agreed on was ‘no fighting,’ no matter what the reason. A rule that Kristjan had broken more than once. But not Aron. Never Aron. His voice quivered from fear and exhaustion, as he explained “We were on the playground when he pushed me down and jumped on me and just started hitting me.”

“Did you do or say anything to him?” Benedikt asked, promp[ting a glare from his wife for such an accusation. But as a responsible father he had to ask so as not to shelf the entire blame in the corner of this Sigurður Jónsson boy.

Aron looked down, prompting his eldest sister Viktoria, to say, “Aron…?” and earning her a hush from their mother. Aron shrugged his slim shoulders and said, “He threatened me before class to let him copy my answers on the test. So i did…”

“Aron…” Eva started to reprimand him when he continued on, talking over her, “I wrote down all the wrong answers so after he turned his test in, I wrote down the right ones and turned mine in. He failed. Then he jumped me after recess.”

His parents shared a look, and even his two older, spiteful sisters shared smirks at what he had done to this bully. Only Kristjan remained stone faced, leaning against the kitchen wall and watching with close contempt.

But when the aforementioned bullying actually did take place, the school administrators, just like so many others, swept the incident under the rug and pretended that it did not happen so as not to sully their premiere reputation. It was typical. Unfortunately for the school, they were not dealing with a typical family who would accept that decision. Especially when the victim was the ‘darling’ of their family, perhaps the nicest and most innocent of them all.

Eva, their mother, took the paper from Aron’s trembling fingers and read it while Benedikt dabbed at his lips with a cool, wet cloth.

“Suspended!” She practically spat at her husband. “He gets jumped on the playground and beaten up but he gets suspended!” She shoved the paper in Bendikt’s hands to gloss over as she spun around on her foot and marched from the kitchen, their children parting quickly to give a very upset mother room. “We’ll just see about that!”

The very next day, both Benedikt and Eva marched into the office of the school administration, and the poor sod didn’t know what hit him having not expected such a kick back from his executive decision. And while Benedikt sat there silent almost the entire time and allowed an angry Eva to defend her son, neither left that office until the decision had been overturned, and Aron was allowed to return to school that following Monday.

Unfortunately, that also meant the instigator of the attack had been allowed to return as well, so as to avoid claims of favoritism. But now the teachers and officials were keeping a closer eye on things, just as they should have been doing from the very beginning. The two boys had been instructed to stay far away from the other, but that did not stop Aron’s tormentor from menacing him from afar. Sending him dirty looks and threats that were, again, ignored by the school since he was not actually DOING anything.

Aron sat by himself on a swing, downtrodden as many of his friends were avoiding him for fear of incurring the wrath of Sigurður Jónsson.

“Is that him?” if it weren;t the voice of his brother Kristjan coming from out of nowhere that startled him, then the realization that his brother was on the playground of his grade when he should have been in class most certainly would have! Aron turned to face him , wide eyed and Kristjan emphasized his question, repeating and pointing right at his brother’s tormentor.

“Is. That. Him!?” He demanded, and little Aron just nodded meekly. Kristjan stood upright at his tallest and power walked toward Sigurður ….

<HR>

“Let me guess.” Gabriel mused with a smile, having listened to the humbling story from Aron. “Kristjan got suspended that day. Didn’t he?”

“Mm.” Aron nodded as he watched Despayre roll from the ring, allowing the much larger Shane Boswell to take over the session. “Try to imagine witnessing a car wreck. That was how i felt when I was sitting there, watching K beat the hell out of that kid. And when I had to sit there and watch him explain to our parents why he had gotten suspended -- again.”

Gabriel chuckled, “I can imagine. But he’s protective. That is an older brother's prerogative.”

“Speaking from experience?” Aron asked, and Gabriel found himself admitting, “Yes and no. Back when we first started competing in AWA, I was always watching out for despy, ready to fuck anyone up who turned a dirty eye his way. Then …” He drew in a deep breath, “Then I started giving my little nutter his space and to fend for himself. Oh i still wouldn’t stand by anyone attacking him! Hell no! But … he wasn’t going to grow into his new lot in life if I kept him from evolving on his own.”

“Respect.” Aron nodded, his eyes never leaving the ring. “But can you imagine if K did that to a playground bully, what he’d do to anyone who hurt me in the ring? It wouldn’t matter if I was a willing participant or not. The first man who hit me would get seriously messed up.”

Gabriel turned aside from the ring and leaned his backside on the ring apron, folding his arms. He said, “Let me try this from another perspective. You know we’re trying to negotiate contracts for you both to sign with SCW.” It was more a statement than a fact, but Gabriel paused in wait until Aron had nodded in acknowledgement.

Gabriel went on, “If you both are signed, you would both be legally classified in your contracts as SCW Superstars. That means if the situation called for it in extreme circumstances, they could call on you to get into the ring for a match.”

Aron frowned at him, but Gabriel went on before he could utter a protest. “It doesn’t happen very often where the managers are concerned. I can only recall once or twice. But the point is, it has happened. So the question is; if the unlikely happened, would you want to be caught unprepared?”

Aron turned from him and looked back into the ring, drawing in a deep breath.

<HR>

“And that was only the beginning.”

“If you would have told me two years ago that I was going to be stepping side of the ring as an active wrestler, I probably would have laughed and asked how long ago my brother kicked you in the head. I mean, you saw how surprised and upset Fenris was when I went behind his back to announce that I had signed up for the 2020 Blast From the Past. And if you think he had a coarse reaction, then you should have heard what the rest of my family had to say!”

“You’re not a wrestler. You’re not a fighter. Trust me, there’s nothing anyone around SCW or SCU could possibly say that members of my family hadn’t said to me once my cover was blown. Supportive? Maybe not the word I would use, but I can’t fault them for showing me concern. It is what family does, although I could have lived without Kristjan calling me a daft bitch.”

Aron smiled at the recollection as he wandered down the Shambles, an old street in York, England. This was a popular attraction for both tourist and local, as several of the buildings were dated back as far as the 14th century. If one was craving fo0r a more precise visual, just look to the films in the Harry Potter franchise. It was well known that the Shambles was a key inspiration for the setting of Diagon Alley. There was a variety of good; shopping for clothes and souvenirs. Essentials. And of course some of the very best vendor food that money could buy.

Aron had used his brother’s desire for a stiff one (a drink ya perverts!) to sneak away and find a little time to himself, and process what he was currently facing. A custard-filled tart in hand, Aron strolled along the market, his eyes never lingeroing too long on any one thing as there was so much to look at and experience.

“I won’t lie and try to convince anyone out there that I’m not nervous about being in my first wrestling match -- ever. I’m no liar and if I tried, I’d make for a terrible one. So many men and women who enter this sport do so with confidence and the mindset of how they are going to just win, win, win and do so easily. I should know. My brother was one of them. Of course, it wasn’t like he wasn’t experienced at fighting someone in front of such a large crowd where every eye was on you.”

“I don’t have that same luxury. I think I can count on one hand how many physical altercations that I’ve been in my entire life and still have a few digits left over. Some people, like Kristjan, were made for fighting.”

He shook his head, pausing just long enough to take a bite of the pastry he purchased.

“I’m not one of those people. Which begs the question; why did I even sign up for this event when I had everything going against me? Because, contrary to that belief, I don’t have everything going against me. I have a brother who has been at my side since the day I came into this world, and from that day on we just witnessed, I trained beside him every step of the way. He wasn’t happy about it, and almost threatened to walk, but deep down I think he understands why i did it.”

“And why I need to do this. I knew he wasn’t going to sign up. It was like pulling teeth for everyone involved, getting him to sign up for the first one he debuted in. I have an appreciation for history, and I think it’s a great thing that SCW holds this event every year to honor the men and women who paved our way into this sport, no matter what our role.”

“I’ll be the first to admit that I was sitting right there at the computer, staring as the tag team partners were being announced by Mark and Christian, and I couldn’t have been happier that I have Mother Mavis Shepherd as my partner.”

He closed his eyes and held up a hand.

“I know, I know. A lot of people are thinking I’m nuts right now, but if the point of this event is to win it, then I had luck on my side when a proven wrestler and champion to add, was announced as my partner. Mavis and her family have been nothing short of dominant down in SCU, so I am not complaining. Her religious views are just that; her own. Our opponents…?”

Aron paused and stared into the streetlights as they started to illuminate under the deepening of the sky.

“Well, I can’t exactly say that I’m not concerned. Sierra Williams’ name is synonymous with success. Don’t let her self deprivation delude you. So she has lost a title match or two. So what? Who here can say any different. Nobody wins all the time, but when she was teamed with Lachlan Kane in the mixed tag team division? I think you would be hard pressed to find anyone other than London Underground who were more dominant in those ranks. I can’t say that this doesn’t give the other side an edge, because this is a mixed tag team tournament and Sierra is a mixed tag team expert. She’ll rise to the challenge of the singles division one day, that I’m sure of. But for now? All I can do is put my faith and confidence in my own partner to handle what I can’t.”

“Because I have someone just as dangerous across from the ring, watching me like I’m something tasty being served up on a silver platter. While I have to admit Hitamashii’s time in SCW wasn’t everything he might have wanted or expected, the man really hit his stride when he went to SCU to further his training and in-ring time. The results speak for themselves as Hitamashii is himself a former singles champion in SCU, and for anyone, man or woman, that makes you a threat and someone to take seriously. I’ve watched Japanese fighters, both in MMA and wrestling, and you would be hard pressed to find men and women more disciplined than they are. “I’m also willing to bet that when this match was announced, HItamashii thought he hit paydirt, being put in a match against a man that has literally never stepped inside of as ing before as a competitor in his life! He probably thought ‘Jackpot!’ or “Paydirt!’ or whatever other vulgar term you might use in a spot like I’m in. He can look past me all he wants, thinking me as nothing more than a morsel being served to him for a quick and easy snack. But try to remember who I am, who I have at my side and who has been there for me, training me and making certain I would be ready if and when this day ever would come. Win or lose, Hitamashii, I am no free ticket. And if Hitamashii wasn’t dangerous before, the fact that he’s now aligned with that GRIME faction makes him even more so!”

“But while I have my brother at ringside watching my back, I’m pretty certain Mavis will have her own backup with her husband watching hers. An over protective big brother. A husband watching out for his own. You can’t get finer back up than that.”

Finishing off his treat and finding the proper receptacle to dispose of his trash, Aron tucks his hands in his pockets and meanders on further down the Shambles.

“I can’t say what will come after this tournament concludes, whether I’m the winner or no. A lot depends on my partner, Mother Mavis Shepherd, and the luck of the draw in who we’re up against. I never saw myself as an active participant in this sport, and I don’t know if I’ll keep wrestling after the tournament concludes.”

“I just know that I have to do this. I have to try. Because if we don’t try, how do we know what we’re capable of in life? All we’re left with are the two most terrible words the mind can wonder…”

“What if?”

<HR>

The cover of the ancient tome of the Norn closes with the old hand resting on its cover…

The final sight is the Norn walking into the fog, her last words “Fate is what we make it.”

 
December 15 -
Current

“What the fuck just happened?”

That was all that Fenris could ask himself as he sat on the folding chair in the cordoned off area of the Gold Coast, used for the Superstars and Bombshells as their respective dressing rooms for the night’s events. His elbows were propped up on his knees and his head rested in both of his hands, fingers weaving in and through his long strands of dark, blonde hair as he attempted, without much success, to process what had just happened.

Things were going his way, just as he had expected. Fenris knew that with odds like this stacked against not just him, but every man in this match hoping for success, he had to not only pull out all stops, but new ones as well. Something that he had never before done, or at the very least, rarely done before. That had been where his trainer in the world of Mixed Martial Arts had come into play as he trained for this world title opportunity in relative seclusion. Gabriel and Odette had him at their GO Gym night and day, ensuring one of their prize students would be ready to once again take the world by storm and become a two-time SCW World Heavyweight Champion. And while the Stevens handled all things wrestling related, Fenris’s MMA coach, Maksym Petrov, arrived in order to lend a helping hand, quite literally. While Fenris considered himself an expert in his training, Maksym as well as Gabriel had practically beat it into him that ‘nobody’ ever stopped being a student of what they were passionate about; be it professional wrestling or Mixed Martial Arts.

Gabriel had discussed privately with Maksym ad away from even the ears of their charge that he wanted something new for Fenris’s arsenal, something his prospective opponents had not seem him use before so they would be unable to counter at the drop of a hat until it was seemingly too late. Maksym had the perfect solution, the answer coming to him in the form of the Kirifuda Clutch, a wrestling submission hold so dangerous and complex that only a handful of competitors had mastered to perfection.

Maksym had demonstrated the hold on Fenris, and even Gabriel himself, challenging either man to find a counter once they had been locked inside. Neither man was able, and so Gabriel had deemed it the perfect answer to bring another world title home to one of his students. He and Maskym worked tirelessly at teaching Fenris not only how to properly apply the hold, but when to do so and how to keep an opponent from escaping once it was locked in tight. Gabriel even had some of his newer students, young men yet unnamed, eagerly looking for that hopeful entry into the world of wrestling subjected to the hold as both a lesson as well as training opportunity for them as well as the more experienced “White Wolf.” Both teachers even insisted Fenris apply the hold to the both of them before they were satisfied he had it down perfectly.

So what happened?

Less than an hour ago…

The match had been everything SCW had promised their fans and more! All six Superstars had given it their all from the very beginning, each showing great promise and potential. The match was winding down to its final moments until only three Superstars remained; two former World Champions and a man who would soon prove that destiny was on his side. Before Ben had even been called to the ring, Fenris and Austin James Mercer engaged in a heated combat until all of the training on the part of Gabriel and Maksym hit home. Fenris managed to duck behind the taller, heavier Austin and locked him in the Kirafuda clutch, a former of a rear naked choke where Fenris put a foot into the back  of Austin’s knee, undoing his size advantage and bringing him down into a body scissors combination.

Much to Austin’s credit and fighting prowess, the former champion did not submit. He passed out, unable to break the hold, leaving it down to just two. Ben Jordan entered the match and the fans got what they wanted; “The White Wolf” versus “the Cockney King!” Admittedly Ben was all about the sportsmanship, while Fenris was business as usual. And if their inevitable one-on-one encounter was anything like their all-too brief encounter this evening, the SCW Universe had the makings of a classic!

Then Ben made the critical error of allowing Fenris to get in position behind him, where the submission expert was able to again lock in and secure the Kirafuda clutch! Ben was fading, and Fenris knew it!  Fenris had him, and Ben knew it! And that's when it happened. Fenris swung Ben down to the canvas to secure the hold, just like he had done to Austin, only the momentum shifted against him. Fenris was unable to secure the body scissors before Ben rolled backwards on top of his own upper body while still in the hold and before he could contemplate what was happening, the three count resulted in a brand new World Champion … and it was not Fenris.

Current

He remained that way for what had seemed an eternity, ever since the conclusion of the night’s main event and he had walked past all the well-wishers who wanted to pay him their respects and offer him their heartfelt condolences on the loss. He did not say a word -- to anyone. With Aron at his side to shield him from the brunt of it, Fenris made eye contact and gave an acknowledging nod to both Mark Ward and Christian Underwood when they praised the performance. But that was it. Anyone else who tried was met with cold indifference as he turned his back against the far wall and, like the other five competitors in the match, waited for the new champion to make his triumphant entrance.

Now? The vast majority of the rosters had left the floor to get something to eat, have a few drinks in the Casino bars or even make use of the various games of chance. Fenris received his fair share of invites, but after awhile and so many none-too-pleasant responses, he had been left alone. Just how he wanted it.

“K?” Aron’s soft voice drew his brother’s head upright and his eyes and the top half of his nose were all that was visible over his interlocked fingers of both hands. Fenris simply looked at him expectantly with his blue eyes and an eyebrow arose, before Aron slid inside of the dressing room and shut the door behind him. Aron would ordinarily have full access to the dressing room as an SCW Superstar in his own right, albeit in a managerial capacity, but he wanted to give his volatile elder sibling some breathing space, knowing he was bitterly disappointed.

Aron said, “There’s some more reporters outside who want to talk to you?”

“Tell them to fuck off.” Fenris responded without a second thought. Aron stared at him for a brief moment, shrugging his shoulders to say, “K, I can’t…”

Fenris interrupted and added, “And tell them if they try to corner me outside when I leave, I’ll put my foot so far up their ass I’ll kick their teeth from the inside out!”

“You can’t hide from reporters forever K.” Aron started to try to get through to him but his brother threw his arms down and glared hard at him, barking, “I can sure as shit TRY!”

“K…” “Aron, give me a break!” Fenris’s voice rose to drown out his little brother’s attempts to reason with him. “I just need some time -- please!”

Aron exhaled, knowing he must be feeling bad if he actually used the dreaded word ‘please.’ Aron turned around and stepped out of the dressing room, ready to shut the door and leave Fenris in isolation when Gabriel Stevens approached, holding the hand of his four year old son, Lucas. Gabriel reached for the door when Aron tried to intervene.

“Gabriel, he really wants to be left alone.”

“Who doesn’t?” Gabriel answered matter-of-factly before pushing the door open without a second thought and escorting his boy inside.

“I thought I said…!” But whatever Fenris was about to say was cut short as he looked up sharply and saw not only the man who helped bring him into the world of professional wrestling, but his little boy as well. Fenris was not a child person by any stretch of the imagination, but for some strange reason, the four year old Lucas seemed captivated by him. The child’s eyes practically sparkled as he gazed on the man across the dressing room, and a light wisp of a smile lit up his already cherubic face.

Fenris ran his hands down his face and then sat upright, expecting and asked, “What?”

“This one…” Gabriel tilted his head to indicate his son. “... insisted we check on you. He thought you might be unhappy.” Fenris looked away and scoffed, drawing a frown from his mentor who said, “Seems he was right. What’s the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter?” Fenris repeated with a tone of extreme disbelief. His eyes narrowed and he gave a slight shake of the head as he responded, “Are you kidding me? Did you not pay attention to what just happened out there??”

“Yeah, so what?” Gabriel shrugged as he walked over and grabbed a second folding chair, presumably for himself. “You and those other five had one hell of a match…”

“I lost Gabriel!” Fenris stated hotly. Gabriel briefly stared at his pupil, the chair in his hand, before he nonchalantly spun it around and straddled the seat while resting his forearms on the back of the chair.

“So you lost. It happens. It wasn’t the first time, and I hate to be the one to tell you this but…” He caught his student’s eye and shook his head. “It won’t be the last time, either.”

Fenris started to respond but before the words could escape his lips, he was caught by surprise by a certain four year old who managed to find his way onto Fenris’s lap. What was that we said earlier about the child finding this big lug so captivating? This was prime evidence right here, and Gabriel was unable to stop himself from feeling more than a small amount of pride in his son. Lucas was sharp for his tender age, and knew when someone didn’t feel well, be it physically or emotionally. And there indeed was something about the ordinarily angry Icelandic man across from him that kept his child engrossed. Like a favorite uncle. For all of his anger issues, Gabriel and Odette’s first born seemed to be his own Achilles heel.

Almost by instinct, Fenris’s arm reached around the boy to keep him safe while he sat perched on his lap, and Lucas simply sat there, his small fingers idly intertwining in Fenris’s long, blond locks. Gabriel tried to ignore the flush of embarrassment that colored the man’s neck and ears from the attention he received -- but the smile spoke volumes at how unsuccessful his attempt was.

Gabriel stressed before Fenris could find his words, “Kristjan, you have nothing to be ashamed of.” He held a hand up to stop him from saying anything to the contrary so he could speak himself, “I know. Your family was here tonight and you wanted to win for their sake. Maybe show off a little extra for your sisters?”

“I am never going to hear the end of this…” Fenris shook his head.

“They’ll get over it.” Gabriel said calmly as he leaned forward, watching him with a critical eye until Fenris felt compelled to look up and away from the son and to the father. Gabriel continued, “Let me try to put this into perspective for you. You’ve been wrestling professionally since April of `17, correct?” Once Fenris yielded with a nod of acknowledgment, Gabriel went on, “In that time, you’ve been pinned -- twice. I don’t care what Mercedes Vargas says about these other matches on your record. You may not have won every time, but you also haven’t been beaten directly more than twice. That’s an impressive record, Kristjan. And if that doesn’t help, then try this; you lost to Ben Jordan. I lost to JT Underwood.”

“Who?” Fenris frowned.

“My point exactly.” Gabriel stood up and set the chair back against the far wall, before turning to his son. “Come on. We should let Kristjan get dressed…” But as he said this, Lucas reached his small hand toward Fenris’s ear and pulled out a 50 aurar krona, an Icelandic coin. Fenris blinked, then looked at Gabriel and quirked a brow.

“Learning from Dad?”

“Hardly!” Gabriel laughed as he took Lucas’s hand and helped him off of Kristjan’s lap. “I gave him a nickel to use!”

Fenris watched as Gabriel led his son from the room, Lucas paused at the door just long enough to wave to him, a gesture Fenris surprisingly returned. After the door closed shut behind them and a moment’s pause after, Fenris heard the vibrating sound of his iPhone go off, signaling he had an incoming message. Probably someone else who saw what happened and wanted to wish their ‘condolences.’ He picked up his phone and had a look at the message…

“Feel like hanging out when you get home after the holidays?”
~W

Fenris genuinely smiled.

Las Vegas, Nevada - the Golden Ring Casino
Earlier this week

Not in the Casino itself, per se, but the sports bar that had opened not that long ago to cater to an altogether different clientele who was more interested in sporting events rather than losing their hard-earned money to the house playing the likes of poker and roulette. Unless they were into losing their income betting on boxing and football -- that was alright. The bar was busy, as was the norm for the local business endeavor of the London Underground. Music played distantly in the background while some patrons came and went from the bar to the casino floor, while others kept to themselves, mingling and watching the latest broadcast on any one of the many large, flat screens stationed on every wall in view.

Against the far wall, up a small set of steps to a second level floor, away from both prying ears as well as eyes, sat Fenris and the young woman we had been introduced to several weeks ago, Willow. Seated at one of the only tables on that walkway, Fenris nursed his Einstok white ale, a special import courtesy of Mackenzie Page herself of London Underground, while the red haired Willow had a Malibu Sunset in hand. While Kristjan was dressed in his usual casual attire, it appeared Willow took a little more personal care in her appearance for this friendly ‘date,’ as she was dressed in a black, flowing mini dress and matching high heels.

“I can’t believe you actually came back to Las Vegas.” Fenris said after a swallow of beer, setting the pint down. “I would have thought the city would leave a bad taste in your mouth after what happened.”

“I live in California, so it’s not that far out of my way.” Willow pointed out with a smile that was equal parts charming as well as cutting edge. “And besides, can you really blame me for taking a drive to see my favorite Knight in Shining Armor?”

“Fucks sake!” Kristjan muttered, knowing she was referencing the time they had first met, when he had saved her from her abusive boyfriend at the time on the public street of the Vegas Strip. Willow smiled brilliantly at his discomfort, knowing he had done what he did out of necessity, not for any desire to be rewarded or acknowledged. It had just been the right thing to do at the time.

She then picked up her light pink cocktail with cherries floating against the ice and took a sip, eyebrows rising before she acknowledged, “Las Vegas isn’t so bad. Granted I wouldn’t want to live here…”

“Not even to be closer to me?” Kristjan chided, his own smile bearing cockiness to it. Willow fanned herself with her hand, openly teasing him with a lilt to her words, “Oh how you make me swoon!”

Two passers by paused as they walked by to meet friends, perhaps having recognized the man seated at the table. The familiar sight of SCW and SCU stars at the Casino was nothing out of the ordinary and many would stop and ask for an autograph or a photo op, but both Kristjan as well as Willow eyed the men until whatever request they had in mind was swept aside and they moved on.

The young woman stirred her drink with the thin straw given her, asking idly, “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

“Not really, no.” Came the expected answer, to which she could admit to little or no surprise. He added, “Besides, what makes you think that something is bothering me?”

“Oh maybe the fact that you’re being so uptight you could probably stand up and pick up your chair at the same time without using your hands.” Willow quipped. Kristjan frowned, perhaps not quite understanding her meaning. She then said with a degree of seriousness, “You’re not exactly a hard person to read. Unless that whole ‘anal retentive’ act you have going is a perpetual thing.”

“If you listen to my brother or my trainer, it is.” Kristjan said, causing her to smile once again and rest her chin in the palm of her hand as she said, “And I happen to find that trait absolutely enthralling!” Just as he took a drink from his glass and froze, giving her a narrow side-eyed glance.

Willow rolled her eyes and said, “Christ you couldn’t drag a needle out of your ass with a tractor! C’mon…!” She stood up, grabbing at his hand as Walk the Moon’s “Shut Up and Dance” started playing from somewhere in the bar.

“What… what are you…?” Fenris tried pulling back but the young woman was unrelenting. She said, “If you won’t confide in a beautiful woman, then the least you can do is loosen up and dance with her!”

“Dance!?” He protested. “But there’s no dance floor in here!”

“Easily rectified!” She exclaimed as she dragged him from their table by the wrist!

“I’m not nearly drunk enough to..”

“Tough! Move!”

With tables moved aside, several people were then treated to the startling sight of the normally uptight and introverted Kristjan dancing quite impressively side-b-side with the red haired Willow, while between the patrons stood a very surprised tandem of Dani Weston, Charlotte Elliot and Mackenzie Page, watching on.

“I didn’t know Kristjan could dance like that.” Mackenzie exclaimed, then shifted her eyes to her teammate with an impish smirk. “I bet you didn’t either.”

---

A dusty setting, the soft overhead light casting its low illuminance through rays of light shining through the grimy windows, past the light scattering of dust in the old, slightly worn down building. Centered on the bare concrete floor steward what has come to be known in mixed martial arts circles as a lion's den enclosed ring. A wire mesh cage surrounding all sides of the octagon platform, it was indeed an imposing sight. No, in case you were not aware or have been living under a rock, this was not the famed GO Gymnasium, the house of champions in the making.

It was a privately owned facility, used to train hopefuls who wanted to make their way into the world of MMA. Or in this case, a man whose own career in that very world had become wildly successful.

A behind angle shot showcases that very man, Fenris, walking toward the Lions Den with a deliberately slow approach.

“It has been awhile, has it not? The last time that you and I met was in a fatal 4-way match in March of last year. The last time, and only time, we met in singles competition was almost one year ago to the Day. January 11th, 2019. Fenris vs Jake Raab. SCW vs Honor. Title vs. Title unification. Do you remember that Jake? Because I sure as hell do. While I had won the title several months before that, it was this match against you that I believe truly solidified my standing as the World Heavyweight Champion. There are still several people that claimed it should have been Austin James Mercer in that match against me, representing Honor as their champion. I should know because I happen to be one of them. But only because I believed it should have been one of their roster representing their promotion against the very best that Sin City Wrestling had to offer. But what happened during the course of that match between you and I?”

Fenris paused en route to the enclosure and cast a glance back over his shoulder and toward the camera, this toward Jake Raab himself.

“That changed my entire outlook where you are concerned, Raab.”

The caged door closed, shutting the former World Champion off from the outside world.

“Your critics can say whatever the fuck they want about what they think you are or aren’t capable of. I don’t know, and you shouldn’t care! But nobody had ever made me bleed the way you did, in wrestling or in this octagon cage that both you and I made a hard fought living in! I had over a dozen stitches because of you, and was put on almost two weeks recovery time. Now, I'm not really one to hold a grudge…”

He closed his eyes and smiled, shaking his head in faux disbelief.

“Okay, even I didn’t buy that! I am the type to hold a bit of a grudge, and having a beating the likes of which you laid on me? Yeah! After so long I would still say that I told you one for that! The fact that you made me bleed and scared family and friends alike just makes me all the more determined to return the favor this time around! I imagine that you think going into this match that you have the advantage both psychologically as well as where momentum is concerned, given that you were victorious in your match at December 2 Dismember IV while I was not. But granted your match was just against “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart, while me? I was in the main event, competing for the World Heavyweight Championship. Again.”

Fenris swung around on his feet in the center of the cage in a fighting stance, jabbing a rapid fired fist straight at the camera.

“No disrespect intended toward Bill, of course. But that match was just another billed Alpha vs Alpha, a match that is seemingly a dime a dozen as Americans might say. The trouble is, this time you’re not just up against any Alpha, Jake. You’re up against THE Alpha. And yes, we have went over the facts that you both made me bleed as well as hurt me physically. But we have not pointed out is the backed up just who walked away from that match the winner, holding not just one but two championship belts when they arrived backstage!”

“Yes, Jake, you may have scored an upset in stripping the honor Championship away from Austin James Mercer, but you sure as hell did not hold it for long before I stripped it from you! And since then, you have been doing everything possible to step out from the shadow that I cast over you that very night! I don't care whether it's in a professional wrestling ring or the cage that you see me in here and now. The simple fact of the matter is Jake, that is good as you are, you are nowhere near my level!”

Fenris then takes this opportunity to break and perform some shadow fighting routines, throwing right and left handed jabs with gloved fists before lashing out with striking kicks. After several moments, he paused with a glistening sheen of perspiration on his brow as he looked into the camera.

“Inside of the ring, you are an opponent to be respected. So I do not know why so many opponents seem to have it out for you, talking down on your in ring skills. What you did to me in our title vs. Title match, that should speak highly enough of what you're capable of as a competitor. Outside of the ring? It's not your fault that you have the personality of a dial tone. Did you honestly believe that dressing up like some DC Superhero, playing with a bow and arrow, would make you more marketable to the fans? When that doesn't work, what next? Buy a blond wig and a pair of elf ears and market yourself as that closeted gay elf from Lord of the Rings?”

Fenris scoffed in blatant disbelief.

“I can’t imagine what you hope to accomplish with that bullshit, but if you’re hoping that it will endear you in the eyes of fans and peers, then you are sadly mistaken! All you are doing is making yourself a joke in the locker room. So here is a small piece of advice; get rid of whatever dumb ass fucker it is that’s getting you to do these things and just fucking BE. YOURSELF! Let the world get to know the REAL Jake Raab, and maybe -- just maybe -- you’ll actually manage to get somewhere in this business!

“And I don’t want you to take that as me belittling you or your accomplishments because I am not. I have told many that you are a fighter that I respect because you gave me the one thing I crave above all else; real competition! No, I’m just stating a simple fact that I am better than you in every way conceivable. And you can rest assured that for every stitch you put in my head, I am going to pay you back tenfold! I am not going to settle for kicking your head off the way I did the last time we met. No, this time I am going to up the stakes and send a message home to you by doing whatever it takes to make you tap and acknowledge to everyone that I am the one and only Alpha in Sin City Wrestling!”

Fenris then extended an index finger and jabbed at the camera lens, tapping it.

“I know that you’re out there Jake, watching. Watching and waiting for this video to go live, and why? Because as I’ve stated; a lack of imagination. So that you can watch every little thing that I do and listen to every little thing I say and respond to everything. In the animal kingdom, the smallest insects and animals use mimicry in order to adapt and survive. You? You use it to survive - me.”

His fingers then clasped around the mesh of the octagon cage and he smiled in a predatory manner.

“More power to you, Jake. But it’s not going to do you a damn bit of good when all is said and done. Because in case you weren’t aware, wolves are among the most territorial of all creation in the entire animal kingdom. The ring is my territory Jake, and you’ve crossed over where you can’t go back. And now I am going to meet you head on… tooth for claw.”