â€Forward”
Jet City, WA
27 September 2017
OFF-Camera

Jason had been driving past the Jet City Sports LAb on his way from the Pride Arena back to his house when he noticed lights through the window. It caught him so off guard he almost ran head-on into another car as he pulls into the parking lot. There were no cars in the parking lot, and no windows broken. He drives through the parking lot to the far side of the building, and down the small alley leading to the employee entrances. Again, there were no cars in the parking lot. However, it was where whoever was in the building got in. One of the entrances was lit up, with a paint can propping the door open. The light inside was on, which was enough to make Jason whip his car around next to the door. He steps out and closes the door of his car quietly. Before pulling the door open, he leans close to the crack, listening to see if he could hear what was happening inside. There was nothing to be heard. He pulls the door open and steps inside, walking slowly, and checking around corners before rounding them himself. If whoever broke in was robbing them, they were doing a terrible job because all of the valuable equipment seemed to be in place, and the office had not even been opened. Just before he gets to the end of the hallway leading into the main room of the gym, he finally hears something.

*THWACK* *THWACK* *THUD*

Jason leans against the wall, looking around the corner without exposing himself to whoever it was. The same sequence of sounds echoes through the gym again, and then a third time before Jason finds the source of them. When he lays eyes on the intruder, his anxiety skyrockets. Not because it was a stranger, but precisely the opposite. Standing in the center of the ring was his half-brother. He has a heavy bag set up in one of the corners of the ring, and Jason watches. Kris sprints towards the bag, getting airborne just a few steps before he reaches the corner. He drives his forearm down into the top part of the bag, and lands on his feet in front of it. In rapid succession, he follows with a knee to his would-be opponent’s rib area. Jason can see the wheels turning in his brother’s head, trying to find a way to close the move. He takes a step towards the rope, jumping to land on the middle rope. He tries to propel himself towards the corner, sending a kick at the bag, but his trajectory is off. He misses the bag, and the loud thud sound that Jason was hearing was Kris falling back to the mat in disappointment of having failed. He smacks the mat and rocks back on his shoulders. He kicks his legs, and rolls forward, kipping back up to his feet. He was winded, and his red shirt was dark with sweat. It brings a smile to the older brother’s face as he moves away from the wall and into the light.

JASON: “You only need one foot on the rope. Don’t linger long enough to have to put your hand on the top rope. Think like those wall runs and ping-ponging back and forth on walls in all those games you used to play.”

Kris wheels around towards the sound of the voice, raising his hands up on top of his head. He tries to catch his breath and appear more together than he is, but fails miserably. He leans forward, putting his hands on his thighs and breathing heavy. He points towards the bag.

KRIS: “I can’t without having to take a step back first, and if I let them have space they are going to kick me out of the air on the way down.”

Jason shakes his head, surprised that Kris even acknowledged him at all. For the most part, they had not spoken since Summer XXXtreme. Kris had been clear that they were not family anymore. He had even relinquished his half of the gym they were standing in. Yet, here he was. Even better, he was taking criticism without bringing up their issues. Jason could not help but feel like Kris was here to get his attention. Jason hops up on the apron, and then between the ropes. Kris steps into his path, having started to catch his breath, but Jason holds his hands up and moves around him.

JASON: “Just trust me here….”

He moves around Kris, taking a few quick steps towards the corner. He leaps, mirroring the first two strikes in Kris’ new combination. However, instead of turning towards the ropes for the springboard, he takes one running step to the opposite side of the corner. He plants his right foot on the middle rope, and springs left, rolling his body, and able to catch the top of the back with his toe and he rotates to the ground. He lands on his stomach, but gets his palms planted on the mat, and pushes up to be standing face-to-face with an unimpressed Kris.

KRIS: “You’re still as big of a show off as ever.”

Jason shrugs his shoulders, not letting his brother’s attitude take the smile off of his face. He did not expect Kris to cave in just because he saw it done successfully. He just wanted to be able to prove his usefulness.

JASON: “Why are you here?”

It cuts right through all the small talk, or circle-talking. There was really only one thing that the two of them needed to talk about, and as much as he would enjoy helping Kris with his ring problems, it was not the pressing issue.

KRIS: “You want me to leave?”

There it was, the flight option. Kris never wanted to talk about anything serious, but he was always too big of a pansy to take responsibility for that himself. He always threw it out as an option for others to terminate the conversation. Jason was not dumb enough to take the bait though. The two of them had been playing this game for too long for him to lose that easily.

JASON: “No, I want to you to come back to Seattle, to Jet City, and throw me some kind of lifeline here. I crossed a lot of lines. I apologized. I gave you space, now I want to fix this. It’s been long enough, and I don’t think you’d be here if you didn’t think the same thing.”

Kris did not expect this kind of honesty, but Jules had already done a number on Jason since confronting Kris a week ago. He sighs, and takes a step away, turning back towards the corner with the heavy bag.

KRIS: “Your wife came to see me. She said I’ve been slipping lately. That ever since I left Jet City I have been coasting. I have had to get more and more underhanded to keep my title, and my ring game just isn’t looking as sharp. She actually has me convinced that even though I’m not losing, I’m getting worse, all because I’m not here.”

On one hand Jason is quite impressed by the mindfuck that Jules must have laid on him to get him this twisted up. Jason was smart enough to know that all of the self-doubt his brother carried around never went away. He did a damn good job of hiding it in front of a camera, or on social media, but he also had all of those people convinced that he actually liked himself, so how smart could they be.

JASON: “I don’t think just being in the gym is what she meant, Kris...”

Kris waves him off before he can even finish the thought. He did not need to hear it.

KRIS: “Oh, save me the nauseating pitch! I know what she meant. She meant I need you, Parker, Coby, Violet, the students, and the feeling of being part of this place if I am going to keep getting better. She meant that I got to where I am because of what we built, and without it I am just stagnating instead of moving forward…. I get it,,. Trust me.”

Jason shrugs his shoulders, raising his arms out to his sides.

JASON: “You expect me to tell you that she’s wrong?”

Kris spins back towards him, anger on his face now. The smug way that his brother talked down to him was not going to make this situation any easier for either of them.

KRIS: “What would you know about it Jason? You haven’t paid any attention to my life since you left SCW. Now you have your own company to deal with, and all your big names on the roster. Is it enough to make you happy? Is people talking about you, and all the well-known asking you for a paycheck what you always wanted? I hope it is, because you finally got what you wanted. You got your perfect little picture now. You have the girl, the company, probably a new family before too long. Tell me I’m wrong!”

Kris’ voice steadily raises as he goes, and when he pauses it is only because he runs out of breath. Jason tries to interrupt him, but before he can even produce a single word, Kris is back on offense, dumping out all of the things he was holding back.

KRIS: “You cut the dead weight. Maybe you didn’t mean it to go as bad as it did, but you don’t have to worry about me fucking up your name anymore. Isn’t that what you wanted? You don’t have to be associated with all my fuck ups. It makes it a little easier to walk away when you don’t have to see your name attached anymore. I’m just another face in the crowd.”

Jason holds up his hand, not appearing to get riled at all. From the moment he laid eyes on Kris in the gym he was waiting for this. In fact, he was hoping for it to happen. It had been months since they said more than two words to each other. Jason would take this over nothing.

JASON: “I know you’ve been seeing E.G and talking out your problems. That you and Holden have been spending a lot of time together, so much so that you are actually just waiting on paperwork to get back to confirm your name change. I know you are just two weeks away from breaking the Roulette record, which was something you have been talking about since the day I asked you to sign with the company again. I know that each of these defenses has gotten harder for you....”

Kris tries to cut his brother off, but Jason raises his hand to quiet him before he can argue. Kris mouth slams closed, and Jason continues in the same even tone as before.

JASON: “You cheated at Summer XXXtreme to beat Keys at the end. At Violent Conduct you let the other two do most of the legwork against each other. Even against Devereux last week you didn’t look yourself, and I know where it started too.”

Kris rolls his eyes, and sighs heavily, turning away from Jason. He had already heard this from Jules. He was not about to listened to it from Jason as well.

KRIS: “You don’t know shit….”

Jason steps forward as Kris tries to escape through the ropes, done with the conversation. However, as he leans forward, Jason catches him from the side, taking his younger brother’s wrist in his left hand and applying the thumb on his right hand to a spot on the base of Kris’ neck. Almost as once the smaller man falls down to a knee, and yells out in pain. Jason raises Kris’ arm higher, and as he goes the pain on the champion’s face becomes more and more pronounced.

JASON: “It was when Joshua Acquin ripped that thing off the wall in that bathroom and hit you with it. I saw it then, and I have seen it in every match since. It’s why they didn’t want you to leave the hospital after the match, and it’s why you’ve been struggling since. You can’t even take pain medication to make it go away.”

The last bit may have been the reason that Jason had been keeping his space. At the very least, he could see from his performance that his brother was not using again. It was a step in the right direction.

JASON: “Not that I am complaining. I’m proud that you have gone so long without slipping.”

He releases his grip on his brother, and Kris immediately pulls away. He raises a hand up to his shoulder, rolling it a few times. As he gets back to his feet, he tilts his neck at an awkward angle and it pops. He seems almost instantly relieved.

KRIS: “I can manage. It’s only another couple weeks and I can drop the title and take some time off. I just have to make it through the end of October.”

The stupidity of the statement finally causes Jason to raise his voice.

JASON: “You’re not going to make it that long without our help. You need to have Parker look at it. You need to have someone like Coby around that can push you, instead of those idiots you have been picking on at gyms on tour. You need someone like me who is going to see through your bullshit, but isn’t going to get tired of dealing with you.”

Kris shakes his head, but immediately regrets it. Whatever Jason had done to him had landed perfectly. He could still feel the pain radiating all the way down his arm and into his hand.

KRIS: “I’m supposed to trust you not to bail? Yeah, that’s going to happen. We are supposed to just act like the last few months didn’t happen? You left me to drown during the worst time in my life, and instead of helping you made it worse on purpose. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Jason’s answer was simple enough to say, but he had been struggling with actually it.

JASON: “You have to accept it as something that happened, that you can’t change, and then you have to move on. It sucked. I’m sorry. But it’s over now. There’s only one direction we can go: forward, but it’s up to you if you want the help.”

He backpedals across the ring, away from Kris.

JASON: “Just think about it.”

Jason steps between the top and middle rope before dropping to the floor and walking off towards the office. Kris crosses the ring like he is going to follow him, but stops. He shoots a look back over his shoulder to the heavy bag, but before he does anything looks back to make sure Jason has already turned down the hallway. He approaches the bag, taking a leaping side-step with one foot landing on the middle rope. He rolls his body just like Jason had, and brings his foot up, tagging the top of the bag and actually knocking it over. He lands on his stomach, just like his brother had, but tucks his head and rolls forward instead of pushing up from the mat. He rolls back to his feet to find his brother leaning against the wall, having only faked walking down the hallway. His eyes are locked on Kris’, and he nods, clapping so softly that Kris could not hear the sound. He lingers for a second, and then rounds the corner for a second time, leaving Kris to think over his offer.


=========================================================
=========================================================


“The Miracle”
ON-Camera


The the camera starts rolling the fans are quick to realize that it is not the typical set up that we are used to from Kris. He appears to have the camera somehow mounted to his wrist. We get a long view all the way up the left arm of the champion, who wears the smile of a young child who has just laid eyes on presents on Christmas morning.

“People have been asking me if I have been enjoying the tour, but to be honest, I have had a little bit too much on my mind lately.”

Wind muffles his voice, and from what little we can see from around Kris, he seems to be high up in the air. There are straps over his shoulders, and someone behind him seems to be attaching wires to his back.

“I mean let’s be honest, I have never been a fan of international travel. Tours have always been difficult for me. As a matter of fact, the last time I was part of an SCW tour, I lost my championship. How is that for a mindfuck?”

He frowns, but it only lingers on his face for a half a second.

“This time was different though. I brought my family. I brought friends with me. Yet, I have found myself sitting out on my balcony and asking myself questions. I watch back a lot of the shows, including parts that have me on it. Today I made the mistake of reading back through a lot of my tweets, and interactions with everyone. I have been forced to ask myself over and over again, if that is the person that I want to be. Is that the person that I really am?”

The person behind him pats him on the shoulder, telling him that whatever it is that they were setting up was ready to go. Kris nods back at him, but turns back to the camera without giving the man much thought.

“To be honest, I’m surprised that the questions did not come sooner. I’m surprised that it took me this long for it to catch up to me. I have been doing this whole thing for four years now, and only now am I starting to have doubts about parts of it. I guess you can say that I have been trying to clean up my act for the whole last year though. I came back to correct the path that I was on, and fix the legacy that I was leaving behind. I never thought that I was going to rise to a point where I was the most paid-attention-to person on the roster. I never thought that people would look at me as a standard bearer. If you would have asked me last year if I would be standing here now, I wouldn’t have been able to give you an answer. It’s nothing short of a miracle that I have come this far.”

Kali Fox steps into the frame, reaching out for Kris’ face. Without taking his eyes off of the camera, he allows her to pull his glasses off of his face. She folds the arms closed on them, and then trades him for something else, the SCW Roulette Championship. Harness, wires, and what appears to be a flight suit, don’t stop him from taking it and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Yet, here I am, and the thoughts that have been kicking around my head as of late have been about that very subject. From Summer XXXtreme until now, my life outside this job has seen a ton of changes. All of you were quick to pick up on the fact that my name officially changed to that of my actual father. I left Jet City. I have been on a roll that nobody has been able to stop in SCW. It seems like everything I say ends up working out in my favor. For someone that has stumbled through life, I have started to look at each of these things as a small miracle of sorts.”

>[He shrugs his shoulders. It did not seem too far-fetched to him, but for the fans that were not sold on it, he elaborates./i]

“I spent my whole life weighed down by being in Jason’s shadow, or blaming the person I thought was my father for my shortcomings. I was always able to point, and lay blame on someone else. Finding out more about myself this summer, has help me to reframe all of my actions, to take responsibility, and to move forward, not backwards. Yet, it all hinged on one piece of information falling into my hands that I was deprived of for twenty-eight difficult years. Any one of the times I have stumbled could have been the end for me. I was a bastard child that should not have been born. I was a drug addict that pissed away his career. I was a loudmouth that shit all over the fans. I was horrible to be around and pushed everyone in my life away before they could leave of their own accord.”

He holds his arms out to his sides, his head turning so that his eyes can stay focused on the camera. We can now see that Kris is standing high above Auckland, New Zealand. In fact, he was currently higher than just about any other living person in the southern hemisphere. Behind him, the camera catches a banner reading ‘SkyTower SkyJump’. Suddenly the wind, the harness, and the wires made perfect sense to the viewers.

“The fact that I am here, have the beautiful family that I do, have all the success in the world, and walk into an arena where people cheer me despite some of the horrible shit that I have said, is miraculous. There’s not a single person that can deny that fact. I should be dead, alone, or at the very least, strung out on a couch somewhere without being able to tell you what day it is. But here I am, standing on top of the world by literally and metaphorically.”

He brings his arm back down so that the camera is in front of his face.

“I am the best of the best that SCW has to offer. I have beaten just about everyone that has been around longer than a half a second. I have taken down all challengers. I have three amazing women in my life that joined me on this trip, and two beautiful kids. Oh, and I am standing on Observation Deck of the SkyTower here in Auckland.”

He turns his wrist so that the camera moves from his face, looking straight down from the deck to the ground below. People walking on the sidewalk are barely visible. Kris holds the camera on the ground for a second before rotating his wrist to put the camera back on his face.

“That’s six hundred and ten feet straight down to the ground. Normally they make you take everything out of your pockets and get into one of these flashy suits.”

He pulls on the collar with his free hand and scrunches up his nose to signify he was not a big fan of it.

“Then, as you saw, they take your glasses or anything else you might be in danger of dropping. If anything falls off of me and hits the ground, it can injure someone. Even this camera is basically bolted to my wrist so that I can’t drop it without losing my whole arm. That’s actually the reason that I have been up here for a few hours already. See, I had to talk to just about everyone working here, and convince them all of something that you fans already know. As you can see, I am strapped in and ready to go, so obviously they ended up seeing things my way. What was my point though? So glad you asked.”

He shrugs his shoulder, angling the camera over to the SCW Roulette Championship draped there.

“My point was that they didn’t need to worry about my championship slipping through my fingers on the way down. I had to explain to them, at length, that there isn’t any way that I am letting it go until I am damn good and ready to. At first they weren’t really receptive, but give me enough time, and I can win anyone over. For almost an entire year now, SCW has been sending people at me with the aim to beat me, or at least shut me up. Everyone has failed. Nobody has been able to pin me. Nothing and nobody could pry this championship out of my hand until after I break a couple records. I am so close now, but it has been brought to my attention that some people are starting to think that I am slipping. I have something to show them though….”

He looks back over his shoulder and gets a nod from one of the workers, and then steps off the ledge. The camera follows his short free fall, as the cords catch, and propel him a safe distance from the tower. He angles the camera to be on his face, knowing he only has precious few seconds before he plummets to the ground.

“Ready for another miracle?”

There is the faint sound of two clicks, and wind rushes up around Kris. He clutches the title to his chest with one hand while keeping the camera extended for the entire fall. The top half of the belt flaps against the helmet on his head, while the bottom half appears anchored with the harness. Kris is screaming, but not in fear, more out joy than anything. As he starts to slow with the aid of the cables attached to his back, he catches his breath, a smile appearing across his face.

“That was insane... ”

His eyes are wide, but the look of being overjoyed does not fade from his face as his feet hit the ground gently. The crew on the ground are quick to help him shrug out of the harness, and he makes his way away from the drop zone. He still has the camera held out, but angles it up so that the viewers can see how far he fell.

“I’ve never experienced anything like that before. That was pretty awesome.”

He brings the camera back down to his face, and rocks his shoulders a little to draw attention to the fact that the title was still there.

“Miraculously, terminal velocity does not apply to me. Clearly I am incapable of dropping this title no matter what the circumstance. Joshua Acquin should have learned that by now, but I’m kind of glad that he hasn’t. That guy got the better of me not too long ago, even though I walked away with a win. You don’t forget about the guy that tried to smother you to death during a match. You don’t let it slide when a guy rips a tampon dispenser off the wall and bludgeons you with it. We have done this a few times now Josh, and every time I have walked out with a victory. The problem was, I have never really gotten to enjoy it, so I am glad that you came out and asked for another shot without Sam around to mess it up for you.”

In a rare moment, he seems totally sincere. The smile even wavers on his face.

“The first time, Tim did most of the work. Every time since, has been in the middle of this big shit storm that became of my life. You caught me in a time of rebuilding. You caught me at my weakest, and because of that, you were able to do a whole lot of damage. I have bad news for you though Josh, that time in my life is over.”

He shrugs, not even thinking about apologizing for that fact. He normally would have tacked on a wink and that cocky smirk for good measure, but for some reason, he does not show any signs of it.

“This isn’t going to be the fifth, sixth, or whatever nth time it is that Kris Halich will have beaten you. This isn’t going to be another beatdown brought to some chump by Kris No-Last-Name-Here. No, this is going to be the debut of a whole new me. This is going to be the start of something all new. I’m not weighed down by all that bullshit that I have been letting hold me back. I’m not standing in the shadow of someone else’s name anymore.”

He smiles widely, possibly the happiest he has ever looked on camera in SCW.

“I’m Kristopher Ryans, and I’m the miracle that you’ve all been waiting for. I’m sorry I took so long to figure that out.”

He winks, but there is no sarcastic smirk accompanying it.

“See you soon….”

With that, the camera is cut off and the screen goes black.

 FLASHBACK
13 July 2017
9:43 pm PDT
San Diego, CA
OFF-Camera

He had almost forgotten how much hotter it was in San Diego than anywhere else he had lived. The strange thing was that he lived in New York City specifically because it was the polar opposite. He had gone there for the cold. He had gone there because if the weather was so much different, maybe life would be too. That was not only faulty logic, but the type of stupidity that Kris had made fun of in order to get his name recognized. Hypocrisy and irony aside, the fact that the weather was on his mind was a clear indication of how long he had been sitting on these stairs. Summer XXXtreme came and went. The hell that followed was also starting to pass. He was not sure where he, Heather, and Kali were headed, but he was confident that it was somewhere better than the purgatory they were all in while the cruise was going on. The only thing he was looking forward to now was a week off to prepare for whatever came next. It would be a few days before he would even have to focus on that though. Today was about something different. It was personal, which meant no crooked smirks, nor winks. He was nervous, which meant that it was not something that he was going to be sharing with the rest of the world. This was not a positive step professionally, or some hurdle on his way to handling his addiction. It was something else entirely. Whatever happened was going to determine whether the corner they were about to turn was an easy one, or if the road ahead was going to keep being rocky. The two ladies dropped him off at noon. For almost ten hours he sat, patiently waiting for the owner of the house to get home. What was he going to look like? How was he going to react to Kris being here? Was he going to feel ambushed? They were questions that Kris fought with all day, yet was no closer to an answer when a yellow hatchback pulls into the driveway. The man in the driver’s seat eyes Kris, but his expression is near impossible to read from the large sunglasses on his face. Kris gets up to his feet as the engine cuts off, and starts to make his way down the short sidewalk from the door to the driveway as the driver steps out.

Kris: “Excuse me...”

The man turns around, he was every bit as tall as the Roulette Champion, and built in a similarly stringy way. His hair was unmistakably the same color as Kris’, and from the looks of it, had every intention of sticking around on top of the man’s head for decades to come. All in all, things could have gotten off to a worse start. Kris tried as best he could to keep the nervousness out of his voice, but when the man turns and takes the sunglasses off of his face, he knew he had done a terrible job.

Man: “Someone that gets punched in the face for a living, looking nervous and anxious at the sight of a photographer. I don’t think anyone is going to believe me when I tell them.”

Kris’ brow furrows. He had questioned if this man would know who he was, but none of the answers, or scenarios, that Kris had come up with during the day were anything close to the man being a simple fan.

Kris: “You are a fan of Sin City?”

It could have been a double-edged sword. If he was not a fan, but knew who Kris was, the jab comes off personal. If he was a fan, there was a good chance that he did not like Kris based on that fact alone. People always told him the way he behaved in front of a camera was going to backfire someday. He did not think it was going to be today though.

Man: “I watch it when I have time to catch it. I’m not a devout fan by any means. I don’t lose any sleep if I miss it. Though the better question is, what brings the Sin City Roulette Champion to my doorstep?”

The words sound innocent enough by themselves, but the way they are said rubs Kris the wrong way. The man’s eyes linger on Kris for just a half-second too long, a giveaway that he was trying to read the champion’s expression instead of his words. He knew the look, because he had heard Jason describe it to him thousands of times over the course of their lives. Kris had never been able to recreate it in a mirror to see for himself, but it was exactly how Jason had described. Suddenly realizing that the awkward silence had dragged for more than a couple seconds, Kris shakes the thought loose and answers the question with a fake, lazy smile.

Kris: “I’m sorry. You must be pretty baffled. It isn’t the part of California to have a celebrity drop on your doorstep--”

The man grabs a few bags from the backseat of the car, throwing straps over his shoulders to carry all of his equipment. He closes the back hatch just as Kris finishes the first part of his thought, and cannot stop himself from butting in.

Man: “I wouldn’t really say celebrity. You’re the third tier champion of a company that hasn’t gotten much bigger than a really successful indy circuit despite being around for years. Your brother though...”

Kris winces at the word, like it physically hurt to put thought into his brother. There was no chance to hide it either, and he knew that the man had picked up on it. Unfortunately, it meant that he already knew more about Kris than Kris was wanting to tell him in this first meeting. However, it did mean that they did not have to play this game anymore. Kris’ tone comes out flat when he finds the right words.

Kris: “You’re Holden Ryans, aren’t you? I am in the right place.”

Holden nods his head, but goes to step around Kris, heading up to the house.

Holden: “If you’ll excuse me though I have a lot of film to develop...”

This was it, every worst case scenario was starting to come true. The shift in attitude, the brush off, it made it painfully obvious. He knew exactly who Kris was, and what he was, but he was still walking away.

Kris: “I know that you know you’re my father.”

It was less than tactful, but the words were out of his mouth before he could choke them down. The accusation lands perfectly though, stopping Holden in his tracks. He looks back slightly over his shoulder, but does not turn around as he speaks.

Holden: “I’ve always known. I was just never in a position to do anything about it back when it would have mattered.”

The words are just above a mutter, and clearly meant to justify why they are having this conversation twenty-eight years late. It was not a good enough answer though. If Kris was honest with himself, there was not going to be an answer that was good enough, no matter what it was.

Kris: “It matters to me.”

Holden shrugs off his bags, lowering them gently to the concrete sidewalk before turning around. Kris was hoping to see remorse on his face, but there was none to be found. It seemed as if Kris’ words had the total opposite impact.

Holden: “Listen kid, you had a dad that proved a few times that he was more than capable of beating me to death, and a mom that was so keen on keeping him around that she would have done anything to keep me out of the picture.”

Kris takes a step forward, not wanting to hear excuses. Every other person that had hurt him had slithered out of his life without getting to hear Kris’ feelings on the matter. His father was dead. His mother was fuck knew where. His brother had sent a messenger to break the news that he had a different father, the coward standing in front of him.

Kris: “You lived here the whole time. You had to know what he was doing to us. You have to have seen. You were an adult. You could have gone to anyone. You could have stopped it.”

Each statement sounds harsher than the last. By the time he gets to the end, he is practically screaming. Instead of raising his in return, Holden holds his arms out to his sides, shrugging his shoulders, defeated.

Holden: “I tried. I tried everything I could think of. At first it was the threats that kept me away. When those weren’t enough it was the beatings, so when I saw that I know what some of that must have been like for you, you can trust that. After that it was your brother. He was the only person you had in your life that meant something, and my being there would have taken that away. It would have invalidated the one positive thing in your life. I wasn’t willing to do that. I made your mom promise not to tell you anything until she died. I’m almost surprised that she last this long.”

The anger is gone, replaced by confusion. Kris’ face scrunches up and he shakes his head.

Kris: “What are you talking about? Jason found out about you. He’s the one that told me.”

It does not seem to surprise Holden at all. The fact that he was so plain-faced about the question was near infuriating on its own. Kris was starting to get a small dose of what he was like to talk to himself, and was finding himself suddenly much more supportive of the theory of nature over nurture. Holden tries to break it down for him anyways.

Holden: “And who told him, Kris? Where did he get all this new information what he wouldn’t have ever thought to look for on his own. You are all he has. He is all you had for a very long time. Why would he seek out something to ruin that? For someone that play smart on television, you’re playing pretty dumb.”

It should have made him mad, but instead it just made him want to prove himself. Kris was not going to stand there and let some man that was never there for him put pieces of a puzzle together or him like he was an idiot.

Kris: “So she told him. Who cares? I have died since the last time that I talked to her, and I bet she was excited to hear the news. The last motherly thing she did for me was push me out.”

Holden holds up his left hand, his fist closed, except his extended index finger. Kris had a similar mannerism for correcting people, and seeing someone else do it back to him made him feel like he was trapped in a mediocre Twilight Zone episode.

Holden: “She actually didn’t push you out. The doctors ended up having to pull you. She gave up when it wasn’t going as easy as labor with your brother.”

Kris’ mouth drops open, and he struggles to find the words to respond. Just when Holden is about to cut him off, Kris raises his hand, his palm to his father, stopping him.

Kris: “How do you know all this stuff about me? About her? About Jason? You keeping track of me from the shadows or something? Waiting for the day that I would find out?”

As much as Kris’ words made it out to sound like a negative, there was nothing that he wanted more than for the answer to be yes. Dr. Halliwell had even suggested to him that the reason that he was hooked on the idea of meeting this person was because of the hope that there was someone out there that actually wanted him. That is what made the answer all the more heartbreaking.

Holden: “At first it was just stories she told in bars. Then it was phone calls when he was drunk and they were fighting. I kept track of you for a while once you were old enough to be going around on your own. I could never actually be in your life while they were. Your… that man, did not want me around. I don’t have the kind of money to fight a custody battle, let alone even fully support you if I would have won. Then...”

He pauses but not pull his eyes away from his son. Kris made no attempt to interrupt, so is at a loss for an explanation. He shakes his head, rotating his left hand in a circle for his elder to spit it out.

Kris: “Then what? Come on. What’s your next excuse.”

Any hesitation that Holden has was gone. He did not enjoy feeling pressured into uncomfortable conversations, and realized that there were only a few ways to end this one.

Holden: “Then I saw the person you were becoming. The drugs. The being everyone else’s problem. The getting on television and saying horrible things about people you don’t really know. I decided that maybe there wasn’t any reason for me to waste my time. If that’s the person you choose to show the world, the man behind the scenes can’t be much of a gem.”

Holden reaches down for his bags, content that his words are vicious enough to push Kris away. Little did he know, stubbornness was genetic as well.

Kris: “Yeah, well I don’t know why I came looking for answers from a guy that’s full of excuses, and willing to turn his back on his family so easily. Maybe I was better off where I ended up.”

Holden stands back up, lifting the bags and shouldering the straps. He nods, happy to lose the argument if it meant getting to exit the conversation.

Holden: “We’ll never know, will we? All of us had a part in making that happen.”

He turns back towards the door, hoping that Kris would have it in him to let it go. The Roulette Champion was not about to absorb the last insult before simply tucking tail and running though. It just so happened that he had the perfect answer.

Kris: “My kids didn’t.”

Holden stops, unable to deflect away from that one. He turns, just halfway, the majority of his body begging him to just go inside.

Holden: “They’re both basically babies right? The boy is not even two, your daughter probably not even crawling yet?”

Kris nods, feeling some of the hostility start to drift away just with the thought of his kids.

Kris: “That’s not something you’re going to be able to hear me talk about when you can catch me on television. They aren’t going to be people you can follow on Twitter. You can write me off as the guy you see in front of a camera, or the kid that got hooked on drugs, but they didn’t do anything to deserve not having any grandparents at all. The ones they have either don’t care, or are dead. They’ll never get to know what it is like to get to know family outside of a couple people. They’re the best thing I have ever done in this world.”

It actually makes the older man smile. For the first time there is no game Kris is playing, or bullshit he was selling, only honesty. Unsurprisingly, it worked.

Holden: “That’s a popular thing parents say about their children.”

Kris nods.

Kris: “So maybe you should judge me based on the person I am with those two, and not the person I am to collect a paycheck.”

It was simple enough, but Kris knew that he would not be so simple. If Holden was going to cave a little, Kris was going to have to as well, quid pro quo.

Holden: “Then maybe you can try to see me as a guy that had to make a lot of hard choices, instead of just some guy you feel abandoned you.”

It draws a laugh from Kris, that Holden could have never have imagined he would enjoy hearing as much as he did.

Kris: “What do I have to lose? I showed up batting 1.000 on shitty parents. What could get worse if I am wrong about that?”

The question gets a response that Kris would have given if their positions were reversed.

Holden: “You don’t strike me as a person that enjoys being wrong though. You sure you can live with that?”

Kris closest the distance between them, pointing at one of the straps over Holden’s shoulder and offering a hand to help carry things.

Kris: “I guess I’ll find out.”



========================================
========================================



”Really?”
ON-Camera

”Summer XXXtreme was the last match that I was booked in on purpose...”

As the scene comes to life we find Kris, lounging on a hammock in San Diego. The camera is angled so that the sunset is on one side of the frame, bathing Kris in light on the other.

”Correct me if I am wrong, but that was more than a month ago. I mean you can throw in that half-assed match I had as an alternate opponent for James Tuscini, but let’s be honest, it shouldn’t count. That was a matter of being available and in the right place, at the right time. It doesn’t change the fact that management has failed to intentionally book their longest reigning men’s champion since their last supercard. To that I can only ask one question.”

He holds his arms out to his sides, his face covered in disappointment.

”Really?”

It seemed overly cliche for Kris, but it only helped to drive home his point.

”Your world champion is so much of a draw, you can discard the Roulette Champion for more than a month?”

He sarcastically snaps his fingers, like the thought struck him only after posing the question. He makes a clicking sound with his tongue against his cheek, and shakes his head.

”No. That’s right. He quit. Now we have some replacement who gets to tell the world he beat the likes of Steve Ramone, and James Tuscini to win the top prize in this company. We get treated to the angry rants of someone that we have no reason to give a shit about. We lost J2H, a guy that carried the top title for a year, and in return, got the guy that took out that one nameless Samoan dude. Does that seem fair? Really?”

Almost as if by divine intervention, another idea strikes Kris. He raises his left hand, holding up his index finger, and disagreeing with himself.

”...but at least we have a hell of an exciting Internet Champion, right?”

He struggles to keep himself from laughing, and for the most part hangs onto his straight face. The sarcastic statement is followed by the same clicking sound, and same disappointment as he corrects the narrative.

”No, that’s right, that guy quit too, or maybe they were the same guy. I don’t know. I wasn’t out there when it happened. But rest assured, James Tuscini will be every bit as good repping the whole internet. This is a guy two claims to fame are being Dmitri’s partner in crime, and having a title reign that I am about to break. He couldn’t beat me, no matter how many different ways he tried, so they moved him to a different title. I guess that kind of takes away any reason to celebrate him, right? After all, he had title opportunities in back-to-back weeks against hacks. Once Dmitri and Harris were out of the equation, we gave it to the least worst loser. He should be damn proud though.”

Kris opens his mouth, wanting to move on, but feeling like he has left a very important group out of the conversation.

”With those two as champions, and me not being utilized, I guess we could try to sell The Bad Boys as the guys running the place. The problem is, they started as a joke that nobody really cared for, and haven’t changed. Even worse, from the moment The Black Sheep got named contenders, The Male Mean Girls have done nothing but clam up, and bomb matches. That doesn’t make for a flattering portrait of people that are supposed to be champions.”

He reaches down, taking a handful of sand, and then letting it run through his fingers while he composes his thoughts.

”All this focus on all these less interesting people, and all the while, the best talent on the whole roster is just slipping through your fingers.”

He stays focused on the grains of sand as they fall back to the ground, and then claps his hands together, brushing away what stayed stuck to him.

”Now, I know you are all going to say, ‘but Kris you have a match with Dmitri this week!’ Believe me, I know that I do. That’s not what this is about though. This is about the fact that I have been on a roll that nobody expected, and all of a sudden, someone has decided to slow my momentum a little bit. I haven’t been on the shows. I haven’t been in matches. I don’t even have a contender for my championship at Violent Conduct. Instead we have wasted time on invalidating three different championships while you put me on a shelf to rot with mine.”

Kris shakes his head quickly.

”That’s not going to work for me. The Roulette Championship might be looked down on as the least important in either division, but we all know that’s not the reality of it. It takes a talent that most people don’t have to hang onto my title. It takes endurance, and a willingness to suffer. It means being disregarded. It means being overlooked. Sometimes, it even means giving up more prestigious prizes in order to carry something that people turn their noses up at.”

He wags his index finger back and forth in front of his chest.

”Make no mistake though, I’m carrying my championship because I want to. I begged to be put in this spot. I wanted to be part of the Roulette division. I wanted to fix my failures from years ago, and I am doing so every day. I don’t have to chase titles in main event cluster fucks. I don’t have to waste fifteen minutes of everyone’s time acting angry on Climax Control without having the common decency to show up. I don’t have to beat people to death with statistics nobody has ever, or will ever, care about. Better yet, even with as many as I make, I am far from the joke that our tag team champions made themselves. The best thing about all of it though?”

He sits up on the hammock, his face coming center frame to the camera.

”Every single one of you out there knows every word I’m saying is true. There’s nobody that compares right now. Someone should probably let the people booking the matches know that. They put Steve Ramone in two more title matches this month instead of finding me a contender for the Roulette Championship.”

He smiles, reaching out to the camera.

”No really…. They did.”

With a wink, the camera shuts off and the feed dies.



========================================
========================================



Dr. E.G. Halliwell’s Office
9 August 2017
2:51pm PDT
San Diego, CA
OFF-Camera

This time Kris is laying on the couch on the back wall of the office. It is angled so that when you are laying on it, you are at a slight incline. However, always needing to defy the rules, Kris has chosen lay the opposite direction, his legs up over the raised end while his head is at the bottom, and lowest point. They had been at this for almost an hour, and both were starting to become annoyed with one another.

Kris: “I don’t know. Some days I think it is awesome and other days I just want to say fuck it and bail.”

E.G. rolls her eyes, and does not try to hide the heavy sigh that comes from her as he rephrases the same answer for what had to be the hundredth time this afternoon. Finally, she has had enough of it.

E.G.: “Why do you do that? Why do you have to hyper critique something until it has weakness, even where weakness does not exist? You need to poke holes in things is borderline obsessive. Remember when you made a big deal about being nice to absolutely everyone for an entire day? You counted down the seconds and then unloaded a whole day worth of angry tweets. You could not let it go. Do you not see the problem with that?”

Her words cause him to bring his hands up to his face, covering his eyes so that she cannot see and take offense to him rolling them.

Kris: “What does this even have to do with that?”

She sits up in her chair and puts the legal pad on the desk, before standing from her chair. She walks over to him, and looks down into his eyes.

E.G.: “Your father did not kick you out, ignore you, lie to you, deny you, or demean you. You two had a real conversation like real adults, got to know each other for a few days, and now you want me to pat you on the back and say job well done.”

He smiles, and she knew what was going to come out of his mouth before he even said it.

Kris: “I mean I did do exactly what you told me to.”

It was that kind of misinterpretation of her words that led parts of her to despise him. Everything she said was subject to the slightest twist and repackaging before he tossed it back at her.

E.G.: “I told you to meet him, see if he was a good person, and then get to know him. Get to see how much of him you see in yourself. Think about how you have blamed all of your flaws on the man that was not actually your father. Consider how long you told everyone you were genetically predisposed to being a douchebag. I suggested that you get to know him, so that you could learn more about yourself. Not so that I would praise you. That’s not how things work. You have a wife for that.”

He immediately turns his head away to break the eye contact she had lured him into. She had a way of looking deep inside of him if she could hold his eyes on her own.

Kris: “We are separated still. Just because we are not bickering and screaming at each other, doesn’t mean things are perfect. We have a lot of stuff left to do before we can really even think about moving forward. She has her music now. That is what is important for her. I want her to be able to do something where she does not attach the value to me.”

E.G. smiles widely, and proudly. As difficult as he was being on other subjects, she got enough information from her Skype sessions with Heather to know things were going well. The fact that he was being protective of it meant that all of his feelings for her were still there. It was sweet to see. She could not allow herself to get derailed on it though, or else the conversation would quickly become anything but professional.

E.G.: “What about you? Heather is putting on shows and releasing an album to work on her own feelings of self-worth. What are you doing to take credit for something positive?”

He smirks, but the smile shrinks off of her face and she shakes her head disapprovingly before he can even get a word out.

E.G.: “If I wanted a Kris Halc answer I would watch that company you work for.”

The scowl she gets gives her all the information she wanted to know about how sore the situation was with Kris’ brother. It was one of the things that she was not possible that he would set straight for himself. In so many areas her was progressing, but that topic was destined to go untouched.

Kris: “I am thinking about asking Holden to do a benefit just on our own. A few of the restaurants that used to hang my stuff around here have been asking about new stuff. I mean it has been two and a half years. I was thinking I could get them all together at an auction and give all that money to something worthwhile. Something like I did with the clinic. A little piece of me that I can give out and hope people feel good about it.”

It was a beauty pagent level answer, but the way he said it made it come across believable. She had seen firsthand that he enjoyed his other endeavors just as much as what he did in the ring. It did bring up an interesting question though.

E.G.: “Do you ever wonder why you feel the need to be so mean in front of a camera, but go out of your way to be the opposite in ways that most people will never talk about?”

He shrugs, closing his eyes and lacing his fingers behind his head to act as a pillow.

Kris: “I thought that was your job. You’re getting all of my money to tell me why I do things, right?”

With his eyes closed, and his defenses down, she reaches out and lightly taps his cheek with her palm.

E.G.: “Maybe one day I will tell you what I really think, but as of now, time’s up.”

His eyes immediately open wide, not at all offended by the playful smack, but the fact that she was throwing him out.

Kris: “How am I ever supposed to figure myself out with time limits like these?”

She leaves his side, moving back to her desk to write him out a reminder card for their next appointment.

E.G.: “You don’t need me for that. You have a whole roster worth of people to compare yourself to and contrast yourself against. Maybe you just need to put in some of your own legwork for once in your life instead of waiting for the answer to fall in your lap.”

He spins around, sitting up on the couch and planting his feet to the floor just as she turns to hand him the card.

Kris: “Why would I want to compare myself to people that I am better than?”

He takes the card, but she does not let go of the end. She waits to give him his homework until after he looks up confused.

E.G.: “Try it. Let me know how it goes.”


========================================
========================================



"Comparisons”
ON-Camera

”I died once...”

It was a strange statement to start off with. As the video starts, we see Kris sitting on top of a turnbuckle. The area around him is black, so there is no telling where this ring that he sits in actually resides. A single light above the center of the ring showers his lower body in light, but shades his face. In the middle of the frame, catching the most light, is the Roulette Championship around his waist.

”I don’t say that to scare any of you. I don’t say it to make myself seem tough, or rough around the edges. I don’t say it because I think it makes me a badass. I don’t say it because I think it gives me an advantage. I say it, because it is the truth. Love me, hate me, like me a little, or feel totally indifferently about me if you want, but there is one thing that I never do, and that is outright lie. There is no need. A lie will not get someone heated on social media. A misleading comment will get more eyerolls than genuine interest. I tell the truth, because the truth is more fun to tell. In the land of sensitive wrestlers with easily hurt feelings, that makes me a bad guy. However, I don’t bring up the fact that I was very dead at one point in my life, because I am a bad guy either.”

He holds out his right hand, his palm facing up towards the ceiling.

”On one hand, we have Dmitri. A guy that will tell you that he is centuries old. A guy that enjoys the fact that he is one of the most frightening bastards on this roster. He will talk about how being more than human, better than human, gives him so advantage. He is older, wiser, stronger, more experienced, and literally engineered to take people apart. Even better for him than being made for this kind of work is the fact that the guy actually enjoys it.”

As he finishes, he holds out his left hand next to his right, focusing his attention on it now.

”On the other hand, you have me. I’m just a normal guy. I had parents that could have done a better job. I have a relationship where everyone is just a little too stubborn. I have kids that make me hate leaving my house. I have two bosses that only signed me to a year long contract to avoid the fallout of me breaking a big one. I have a whole roster of people taking bets when my next relapse will be. I’m not the most physically imposing, or the most agile, or the most highly trained. I’m giving up some significant size to Dmitri, and I have done everything in my power to piss the guy off this week. After all, I am the Patron Saint of Discord. I have to learn up to that name somehow, and winning ‘Favorite Tweeter’ awards from a middle-of-the-road internet journalist is just not going to cut it. I’m the Human Yellow Starburst, because anyone trying to chew me up is bound to find the flavor disappointing. ”

He lowers his left hand just a little, raising the right, and turning his attention back to it.

”...but Dmitri is next level. This is a guy that lived a life, and had that life end, all before he became what he is today. Everything that we see is totally different from the person that he was then, right? That is essentially the same story told in every trashy vampire romance novel, shitty movie for teenage girls, and even the terrifying vampires from the black and white days. People tend to focus less on that fact, and more on the easy puns when they are facing Dmitri. That is a shame. In doing so, you miss the important stuff. Sure, calling myself a Human Garlic Clove going to get a few laughs. Doing a bit on Twitter where I was bargain shopping for wooden stakes was good for a chuckle. That’s not substance though, and it’s the substance that is important. It is the substance that makes all of the difference in the world.”

He lowers the hand again, tilting his head back towards his left, and allowing a smirk to come across his face.

”...but here I am. I am a guy that came from nothing, spent my life doing nothing, and, at one point, died a nothing. My spectacular reemergence into this world was not because of some pointy teeth, but modern medicine. I spent five minutes in the afterlife, and came back a better man for it. I stopped with the self-pity. I turned my career around. I finally captured the championship that had always eluded me. I haven’t been pinned since coming back. Even more important than all of that, I had kids, and got married. My death is different from Dmitri’s, because when I came back, I wasn’t the same sad sack with a bunch of new flashy tricks to pass the time.”

He leans forward, allowing his face to come into the light for the first time. His eyes are still covered in shadows, but his chin, lips, nose, and cheekbones find the light. Against he shifts his focus to his right hand.

”Did you all hear him during Climax Control last week? Better yet, did you feel his frustration? Could you tell how many times he has failed in all of the hundreds of years he will bore you with stories from? Maybe his glorious transformation wasn’t as glorious as it seems on paper. Maybe it isn’t as glamorous as I made it sound from the start. Maybe, just maybe, his whole state of being more than mortal simply amplified the person he was beforehand. That would have been a huge positive, if he wasn’t a boring, try-hard, that always seems to come up just a few inches short of what he wants.”

He pauses, looking down quickly, allowing one short, controlled laugh before cutting himself off. His head cocks back to the other side, now excited about each of the comparisons.

”Yet, when you break a person completely, it is amazing to see what they build on their way back up. A bite mark, or shared blood, or demonic whimsy, didn’t make me the person that I am today. Years of having little pieces stripped away from me until I decided that enough was enough is what made me the person I am today. I died, because I was so broken there was no coming back, not for that person. The person that I was when I woke up, was recognizable in a mirror, but not many other places. I went from the guy jumping people in alleys, to the guy being jumped. I went from living in a storage unit, to owning a house. I went from being a chump, and a punchline, to being unstoppable. You know how I did it? Willpower. Not being a bitch. Being really, really good at what I say, and what I do. One of my best friends gave me something to read to reflect on that whole time in my life, and a quote that stuck out from it comes to mind. ‘I understood myself only after I destroyed myself. And only in the process of fixing myself, did I know who I really was.’ Truer words cannot be spoken about what happened to me. The change that I went through fundamentally altered the person that I am, and will be for the rest of my life. ”

He drops his hands and reaches around his back to pull the strap on the Roulette Championship, freeing it. He holds it in both of his hands, in front of his chest.

”I tried against Equinox and failed twice. I tried to fight my way back into contention, and someone whose name I don’t remember anymore stopped me. The championship that I wanted from the moment I first signed in this company was always a lost cause to me. Then I went through this experience, this change, and I took some time away. When I was ready to come back, and I felt whole again, there was nothing that I could not do. I have done everything I have set out to do since I came back. I said no to the main event. I held the tag titles. I finally grabbed hold of the Roulette Championship and am going to hang onto it until I finally beat Equinox by erasing his record and replacing it with my own. Then, and only then, am I going to stake my claim to take the top prize of this company from whoever dares to hold it. If the last year has been any indication, I shouldn’t have too rough of a time.”

He drapes it across his lap so that it appears as little more than a thin line to the camera, its faceplates hidden from the light when he leans forward.

”Dmitri came up short against J2H how many times? How many times did he reach for the stars, and find himself plummeting back to Earth empty handed? How many times did he bounce back and forth between the tag team division and chasing singles titles? In how many of these divisions has he found success? All I see is a long line of failures. Then again, I have only been around for a short while. If that line is already long in my experience, I can only imagine what the last several hundred years have been like. It almost makes me pity him. It must be a miserable existence to have so much power, but lack the talent to make good use of it. It must be defeating to constantly be told that you were almost good enough.”

He holds both of his palms up, shrugging in exaggerated fashion.

”I heard all of those things, and experienced even worse. It broke me, but the person assembled from the pieces was someone worth spending your time on. I’m not sure anything that Dmitri has ever experienced has really broken him. I don’t know if he has had his fill of failure yet. If it has really been nothing but near misses for his entire life, perhaps there is nothing that can make him snap. I guess it is possible that he will just be a failure forever. After all, the less talented member of his tag team, holds a championship right now. Where is Dmitri? Finding himself lucky to be given the main event of Violent Conduct, and about to get his ass beaten by the Roulette Champion.”

This time he cannot stop the laugh from flowing from him and breaking his rhythm.

”A vampire that can’t win under pressure challenges the biggest success currently employed by Sin City Wrestling. If every reason that I have given you until now weren’t enough, think for a moment about what is going to happen just before this match gets underway. Dmitri is going to walk in knowing we are having a match, but not knowing what to expect. I get to walk into a match decided by my wheel, based around my championship. The vampire is not just showing up to fight me. He is showing up to fight me, in a situation that I have engineered from the moment that the card was announced. He is fighting me in a match that is going to level the playing field between poor, addict Kris, and big, bad bloodsucker.”.

He hops down off of the turnbuckle, the light hitting his full face for the first time in the video. His eyes are cold, and the smirk on his lips is cruel. He steps up to the camera and raises the title up next to his face, filling the frame.

”Here’s to hoping the wheel says you have to stake your opponent and piss on the ashes to win.”

With that, he pushes the camera backwards, and as it falls, the feed cuts off..

 =========
FIREWORKS
=========



Heather is smiling. The first time she has in days, as she pulls into her driveway only to see a familiar looking sports car ahead of her. The man leaning against it. She groans before pulling to a stop and shutting off the engine. She takes a moment to compose herself. He waits for her to get out of the car, but in the bright sunlight, she can already see the dark bruise forming around his right eye. No sooner does she stand from the driver’s seat does he start in on her. He points up at his eye.

Kurtis: “You hear about this?”

She shuts the door.

Heather: “Hello Kurtis.”

She crosses her arms over her chest.

Heather: “Yes I did.”

At this point he is done with the stand-offish routine. He had endured it when there were benefits, but those were definitely long gone. He had been kicked to the curb, embarrassed, and expected to go away. Even if none of that changed, he was not going to go quietly.

Kurtis: “You tell him I did something to you or something? That I made you do stuff? That I was less than nice to you? Honestly, I don’t know how I’m the bad guy here. Yet I am the one that ended up knocked out by someone that shouldn’t have even been in Jet City.”

Heather sighs.

Heather: “I fail to see what coming here to bitch at me is going to do Kurtis. You have a problem with Kris, take it up with him.”

She shakes her head and starts walking up to her front door. He follows her, not holding back on any of the things that he wants to say.

Kurtis: “It has everything to do with you, and you know it. Do you not feel responsible? I mean, what did I ever do other than try and help you? I busted my ass to try and win you over, and you never gave a fuck. I was a toy that you came and used a few times, and then got tired of. Yet, I’m supposed to be okay with being knocked out? That’s fucked up.”

She smirks.

Heather: “Goodbye Kurtis.”

She opens the door and tries to shut it but he steps in front of it, stopping it from closing and latching. Unable to close it, Heather let’s it go, taking a step back from it. Even before her hands leave the wood he is pushing it open.

Kurtis: “Stop trying to shut me up and just fucking talk to me. I was literally beaten unconscious because of you. The least you can do is answer a few questions.”

She starts getting scared now.

Heather: “I didn't say anything to him about you really. He refused to hear it. And screw you Kurtis, you had every intention of trying to win me over. Now kindly get out of my house.”

She can tell that he is irritated, and if she had been there to see what Kris had done, maybe she would understand a little better as to why. He steps into the house, pushing the door mostly closed behind him. It fails to latch, but Heather is backing across the living room already, so he does not even look behind him to check it.

Kurtis: “I try to be there for you. I stop you from getting wasted at my apartment. I let you stay there when your idiot husband refused to take you with him on the cruise, and then proceeded to bang half the ship. And you don’t even want to talk?”

She keeps moving backward until she hits the wall.

Heather: “You don't want to talk. You want to place blame. Fine. Blame me if it makes you feel better. Now leave.”

She is getting irritated herself. He shakes his head.

Kurtis: “I don’t blame you, and believe it or not, I really just want to know why. If you can’t fucking stand me, why come to me in the first place? Why come back? Why make me fight to keep you around? I don’t get it. It’s like you hate me and want to fuck me at the same time. You think that’s fair?”

He hits the wall next to her, clearly his emotions were starting to boil over. There was more to it than that though. He seems genuinely hurt by the rejection.

Heather: “You are so hung up on the fact that I rejected you before you could do the same. You were a release. You wanna know why I picked you? Because you’re like my step-father and I was looking to punish myself. That’s why. Okay?”

She was ashamed of herself and for the first time, she thinks she deserves better than that. He takes a step back from her, brushing at his forehead with his index and middle fingers. It was a hell of a revelation to drop on someone, especially in anger.

Kurtis: “So i was just some sick mirror-image of some fantasy where a guy didn’t take no for an answer? Last I checked everything we did was consensual. You came to Jet City, and walked right into the locker room. You came to my apartment. I was just some way of dealing with fucked up shit that happened to you?”

He shakes his head, the anger coming out in a scary, but short laugh.

Kurtis: “And you people act like there is something wrong with me. Like you’re so fucking superior to everyone. You dump all over each other. You treat each other like shit, even in public. You’re all selfish. But I remind you of your stepfather? That’s fucked up Heather.”

Heather: “You wouldn't listen to me when I told you I was fucked up. So that’s on you. You feel better now. You got your answers so get the fuck out of my house.”

Her normally sweet voice is filled with a rage rarely heard before. She almost blacks out next.  It happens in slow motion. He gets in close to her face and she clenches her fist, raising it to sucker punch him right in his balls. The front door opens just as Kurtis lets out a feminine scream of pain. He backs up from her, doubling over, and only stopping when the back of his legs hit the end of the couch. He sits down on the arm of it, Heather advancing towards him when Kris and Kali enter the house.

Heather: “Don’t fucking mess with me.”

Seeing Heather pissed off is one thing, but being that she left him locked in the studio, he was hardly very happy with her. He raises a finger towards Kurtis.

Kris: “What the fuck is he doing in my house?”

It sends her world sideways. Kris comes in the door and his immediate concern is not for her safety, but for something completely different. Kurtis struggles to find a normal breathing rhythm, the punch taking his breath away. He manages to answer before Heather can though.

Kurtis: “I just wanted to know what the fuck was wrong with her. She apparently gets her rocks off thinking that I am her stepfather or something.”

Heather: “And you barged in and backed me up against the wall. Feel like a big man huh? Picking on a girl half your size...”

He looks up at her, almost like she is offended he would even accuse him of doing that.

Kurtis: “You were the one backing up. I didn’t even lay a finger on you. All I wanted to do was talk. We could have done that in the driveway, but you came in here. I deserved an answer.”

Kris has had enough of the back and forth between them. He had been clear that he did not even want to see them in the same room together, let alone standing in his house.

Kris: “Well you got it and you can get the fuck out of my house before you end up on the floor again and I have someone drag you out.”

Starting to recover a little, Kurtis stands off of the couch, and takes a step closer to Kris.

Kurtis: “...and you. You think you pulled one over on me hitting me like that? How’d you do it, huh? I know your little ass couldn’t have put me down with one shot legitimately. You plan the whole thing? Goad me into the ring and then lay me out to get your credibility back? You think anyone there is going to take you seriously? All you did was let everyone know that there was definitely something going on between me and Heather, and from how hard you hit me she must have really liked it.”

Heather is seething. She clenches her fist again, and swings at him again. It would have hit in the same spot that Kris’ punch did, but he leans back at the last possible second, and she misses his face by millimeters. He reaches up, grabbing her fist, and stopping her momentum to the ground, but it is all that Kris can take. He rushes forward, crossing the room, and shoves Kurtis back away from Heather. The rookie is forced to let go of her hand to avoid dragging her down with him, and tries to keep his balance. It is all for nothing though as the back of his calves hit the couch, and he falls back to a seated position. Kris is not stopping though. He keeps coming forward, balling his fist to hit him again. However, as he goes to swing forward, a much stronger arm than his own hooks around the inside crease of his elbow and stops him from being able to swing. Another hand clamps down on Kris’ right shoulder and he gets propelled away from the couch. He is able to keep his balance, turning around and seeing Jason was the one that pulled him off. The shock takes a second. Kris’ eyes widen, and his mouth falls open. He tries to speak, but he is so enraged that he cannot find words. He takes a step forward, his fist still clenched, and raises it to the man he now only referred to as an old tag team partner. Jason glares at him though, and speaks only one word. The tone is threatening, but not raised or loud at all. The reason it works goes entirely over the heads of everyone watching.

Jason: “Stop.”

Kris’ eyes water, and he lowers his hand, looking away. It was familiar, scarily so, and Kris had only heard Jason use the tone of voice a handful of times before. He nods, and Jason immediately turns back to Kurtis.

Jason: “Get out of this house before I let him beat you unconscious again.”

Again, his voice is not raised, but Kurtis does not even argue. He gets up from the couch, ducking around Jay, and makes his way towards the door. The whole time Kali has been watching, feeling helpless but as soon as the door opens and the man goes to leave, she springs into action.

Kali: “Ahhh!”

She raises her leg and in one fluid motion, push kicks him in the backside. He stumbles forward out the door onto his hands and knees on the stoop. Kali smirks and moves forward.

Kali: “Oh Kurtis, grovelling won’t help you now. You have a nice day though, okay?”

She smiles and closes the door. She turns back to the other three adults in the room to see them all looking at her in shock.

Kali: “What? I told you I was a red-black in Tae kwon do....”

Kris is the first to take his eyes off of her, turning back to Jason.

Kris: “You can follow him out. You're as welcome as he is. Go back to your vacation. There's nothing here for you.”

Heather: “Kris. You should talk to him.”

She sighs, realizing the tone of her voice was not the most reassuring.

Heather: “And no. This isn't me taking his side. I know how hurt you are by what he did. This is your chance to get it all out.”

Kris shakes his head, holding his arms out to his side. He does not take his eyes off of Jason.

Kris: “You going to tell me it is all made up? That we are actually brothers? That it was our dad, not YOUR dad that did all of that shit to us? Can you tell me it wasn’t my fault? That the shit would have happened to us either way? Want to try and sell me that I got the worst of it just because I was younger, like you have for the last couple decades? That it wasn’t because he knew I wasn’t is, and didn’t care what he did to me? Anything you can say to make it better? Or do I just need to wait until Heather fucks someone else so you can have them let me know what you have to say?”

Jason opens his mouth, but realizes that there really is not anything he can say against any of it. He shrugs his shoulders, but shakes his head, admitting that he knows that he cannot make this one better. Instead of fighting, he turns away defeated. He catches Heather’s eye as he goes to cross the room towards the door.

Jason: “I’m sorry for all of this.”

Heather looks at the floor, not responding to him. He offers Kali a smile, making his way out the door.. All of Heather’s will to fight leaves in one long sigh, but before anyone can say anything, Abby is coming in the kitchen door, talking sweetly to KJ holding her hand. Lindsay sits on her hip. She looks between her parents but when she sees Kris she reaches out her pudgy hands. Heather heaves and holds back her sob. 16 month old KJ lets go of Abby’s hand to toddle over to Heather, hugging her leg tightly.

KJ: “Mama-mama!”

Heather gets down to his level to pick him up, hugging him to her chest and burying her face into his neck. Kris takes Lindsay, who hugs his neck. The couple look at each other over their children’s shoulders, both of them on the verge of tears.

Abby: “I’m going to go see if Amanda needs help... uhhh... yeah.”

Abby backs out the door, sensing that it was not something she wanted to be involved in. After the door shuts, Heather takes a deep breath, looking towards her husband.

Heather: “You should take them out. Just you and them.”

Heather kisses her son’s temple, not wanting to let him go, but feeling that she needed to, especially if Kris was not going to back down from leaving.

Heather: “I need some time to myself and I don’t want them here to see it.”

She hands KJ to Kali. Kris nods, his focus mostly on his daughter in his arms. He shoots short glances between both Kali and Heather, not wanting to continue to argue in front of either of the children. He makes his way across the room, stopping next to Kali to reach out to KJ with a closed fist. The toddler closes his own, hitting his much smaller hand against Kris’. Heather moves across the room, grabbing the door and pulling it open for them. Kali goes through it first, walking down the sidewalk to Kris’ car. Kris pauses behind her, leaning into Heather with Lindsay in his arms so that Heather can plant a kiss on her daughter’s cheek. He offers a forced smile, not wanting to make things worse by opening his mouth. He makes his way out, Heather standing in the doorway behind them.





=======
FINALE
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The argument had worn her out. She was depressed but a little bit of that had been lifted at finally getting rid of Kurtis. He had been part of her healing, or so she thought, but in all the time they spent together, the only pleasurable moments had been the sex. She enters her house, not looking back at his expensive sports car peeling out from the front of the house. Jason had also taken his leave, pulling in a near identical model car, but turning the opposite direction. She fights looking back out to where her estranged husband was loading their children into his own car, closing the door in an attempt to convince herself that it was not happening. Once the door is closed, she slides down it, resting her forehead on her knees. She wants to cry but can’t.

Kali: “Heather?”

The voice of her husband’s manager Kali Fox echos through the quiet house. She steps in through the door leading from the garage, having failed to talk any sense into Kris. Heather does not look up to see her, instead focused only on convincing herself none of it was happening. It is then she feels strong arms wrap around her and rock her gently.

Kali: “Let it out. You can’t start healing if you don't.”

Heather shakes her head back and forth quickly. Not surprising, Kali had shared a very similar moment with Kris on the cruise ship, and his response was exactly the same. Heather and Kris were alike in so many ways.

Heather: “I don’t want to heal. I want Kris. He wants me to move on, let him go and I won’t. I can’t. There is no-one else for me but him.”

Kali sighs deeply. She had been mentally preparing for this conversation since the first moment Kris told her what he planned to do when he got back. At first she wanted to leave. She did not want to be a part of the reason that a marriage fell apart. He had only convinced her to stay because it was painfully clear that he was still very much in love with Heather. What they had was broken, and this was the only way he knew to fix it before it was too late. She had seen their conversations, and talked Kris through some of his issues. She knew exactly what to say because of it.

Kali: “And why do you need anyone to complete you Heather? You know how much pressure it is to carry someone’s sobriety on your shoulders? It's a lot of pressure right? And it has become heavier and heavier day by day. Every little thing that happens, you both look to each other for willpower, instead of to yourselves. Neither of you think you have any value.”

Heather tries to wiggle free, not wanting to have this conversation, wanting it to all just go away. Kali doesn’t let her go. She keeps her arms firmly around her, not dissuaded at all.

Kali: “If you want a drink, go have a drink. I promise I won’t stop you and I also promise it is not going to change any of this. Kris is not going to run in here to save you. Neither are your sisters. Everyone has held you up but in the process they have held you back. It was wrong that they gave you an ultimatum to go sober. It wasn't your choice to do it, which is why even though it's been two years, you are still very much addicted.”

It suddenly makes sense to her. She had been so scared of losing everyone that she had gotten sober but it wasn't because she wanted it. It had never made sense to her why Kris struggled so badly, until the picture snapped clear about her own addiction.

Kali: “What do you want Heather? Honestly... no shame in your answer, I’m not here to judge you.”

Heather goes through everything in her mind. Everything she wanted.

Heather: “I just want to be loved for me.”

The words blurt out and she can’t hold back the sob.

Kali: “And did you ever think you were?”

Heather shakes her head. Kris aside, she did not, and he was gone now. The only thing that she was really left with was the guilt that it was her fault. Her voice is low and remorseful when she finds the right words.

Heather: “How can I expect others to love me, when I can't even love myself.”

Kali holds her tighter.

Kali: “And who made you feel this way?”

She expects and inward implosion like Kris when he was sent into a panic attack at the sound of his father’s name, but gets the opposite.

Heather: “YVES! That fucking bastard. He told me I was an accident. I wasn't loved. That my own mother didn't love me. But...”

She suddenly stops. She looks up and a realization hits her. Everyone thought that Yves had her murdered. That it was made to look like an accident but what if, the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

Heather: “My mother... she killed herself...”

The tone of her voice changed as her mind raced to put the rest of the pieces together. For so long she had fought the reasons behind her addictions, choosing instead to run from it. Now that it was starting to come together, everything was starting to become much more clear. Her voice trails off, Kali thinking it is because the memory is just too traumatic for words.

Kali: “I’m sorry Heath...”

Heather holds up a hand to silence her. Her eyes moving rapidly from left to right like she is running through her whole life in her head. Her voice is far away, secondary to any of her thoughts, but there was a pattern to it. She could see it for the first time.

Heather: “It was because she didn't think she was good enough….. not good enough for my dad... not good enough for me…. but it all fucked everything up even more…. I don’t...”

She moves out of Kali’s arms, and pushes herself off of the floor. She starts to pace back and forth, running her fingers through her hair and thinking clearly for the first time since everything started to fall apart.. She then looks at Kali as she gets up to her feet. What she had to do had never been more clear.

Heather: “I don’t want to fuck up Lindsay’s life. The cycle has to end with me. I have to end it.”

She walks toward the cabinet above the fridge. Inside is a second wooden box, matching the one that lays open and on the island counter, empty. She pulls hers down and turns to place it on the counter next to the other. She spends a minute staring at them. Kali following her into the room, but standing on the other side of the island. She knows what is in both of those boxes.

Heather: “These boxes are like anchors around our ankles. Keeping us from getting to the surface. I have been slowly drowning Kali and I have been doing it to myself.”

She opens the box with her initials burned in the front of it. H.A.C. The other box, K.E.H. She flips it open and all the mini bottles are neatly sitting in the grooves for them. Each bottle is still sealed. She takes out the whiskey and looks it over.

Heather: “I am not going to be a slave to these anymore.”

She rips off the seal and opens the cap. It was the first time any of them had even come out of the box. It had been taken out of the cabinet several times, and even opened on more than one occasion. She never dared to actually touch one of them though. Not until now. Kali’s arm tenses and her hand grips the countertop, trying to will herself to let Heather make her own decision without interfering. She manages to keep her body stationary, but cannot trap her words before they come out of her mouth full of concern.

Kali: “Heather... are you sure?”

Heather raises an eyebrow, a matter-of-fact smirk coming over her face.

Heather: “I thought you weren't going to stop me?”

Kali lets out a heavy sigh whilst nodding, but looks away. Heather brings the bottle to her nose, inhaling the smell of it. Kali was right. She was still addicted because she wasn't the one that decided to give it up. Kali looks back up when Heather turns from the counter without turning the bottle up. Heather walks to the sink and immediately turns the bottle upside down so that it pours down the drain. She repeats this with all twelve bottles until they line the counter.

Kali: “You are strong...”

Heather has the last bottle in her hand and before Kali can finish, she throws the little bottle at the wall. It shatters. The noise causes both Bea, and Ellie to run from the room in a panic, barking at the commotion.

Heather: “I hate you. You worthless piece of shit. You stole everything from me. It's your fault I can’t be appy. It's your fault he left.”

She does this eleven more times before once again slipping to the floor and hugging her knees. Kali is quick to come around the island, and sink to the floor with her, resuming her hug.

Kali: “It's time to forgive now.”

Heather looks up.

Heather: “Who? Kris? My step-father?”

Kali shakes her head.

Kali: “You were yelling at yourself Heather. And it's time to forgive yourself. You don’t blame Yves for raping you, you blame yourself. Everything has been you shouldering the blame but it's time to let it go. Not for Kris, Lindsay, KJ or even the rest of your family. But for you. Do you think you can do that? If I help you?”

Heather thinks for a second before nodding her head. She moves to into Kali’s arms, finally breaking down. Kali rubs her back.

Kali: “It's okay... we will get through it. I promise.”

 Monday Morning

It was not often that Kris called Coby in on his off day. It was especially strange since Kris very publicly announced he would be stepping down from all responsibilities and giving away his half of the ownership. He walks into the front door of Jet City, noticing all of his students were gathered around the ring, yet there was no scheduled class. He immediately gets a bad feeling, moving through the building to the back office. As soon as he gets to it he notices an immediate difference. The typical doorknob has been replaced with a panel lever like you would see on hospital doors. Coby presses it to pop the latch free and pushes the door open. Kris is standing behind the desk, taping up his right hand. He has a glove on under the tape that covers his palm, but only the bottom third of each of his fingers.

Coby: “Nice gloves…”

Kris laughs, picking up the other glove from the bag and holding it out to Coby.

Kris: “New toys. I found them at one of the stops on the cruise.”

Coby takes a step forward and takes the glove, but is surprised to find how heavy it is. He turns it over in his hands, feeling the thin plates built inside the fabric of both the palm and the back of the hand. His fingers move around to the knuckles to find thin tungsten rings sewed into the fabric. He looks up at Kris, terrified because he already knew why he got them.

Coby: “You sure you want to go this far?”

Kris looks up, finishing the tape on one hand before reaching out for the left glove without a response. When his eyes meet Coby’s, the younger man knows that this is going to happen with or without his consent. He hands Kris back the glove, shaking his head.

Coby: “Don't kill him…”

Kris slides the glove onto his hand, and starts to tape around it. Within a minute the entire glove is hidden under the tape. As he moves down to his wrist though, the roll of tape runs out. Kris grits his teeth, annoyed. Coby immediately snaps into action.

Coby: “It's cool. We got all the extra stuff in our storage room.”

There is a short hallway inside the office that goes back to a walk in closet with all of the surplus supplies for the gym. Coby looks through the rack, looking for tape but not finding any. As soon as he disappears into the room, Kris reaches into his bag, grabbing a small metal bar, only eight inches long, and a second roll of tape. He moves around the desk, and out the door, closing it behind him. Once it is closed, he slides the metal bar between the wall and the new lever handle, preventing it from being able to be opened from the inside. He turns to the main area of the gym, seeing all of the trainees already waiting there for Coby.

JD: “Where is Quik at?”

Kris shrugs, using the new roll of tape to finish his left wrist before throwing the rest of the roll onto a nearby table.

Kris: “He came in, had to run out, and asked me to take over.”

Chatter breaks out over the group as Kris rolls into the ring. He raises up both of his hands to calm them.

Kris: “Relax. He will be back before you know it.”

However, they are not sold.

PJ: “Kris, you know we love you, but you've never even been trained. What do you even have to teach us.”

Kris smiles widely, conceding the point.

Kris: “You're right. I couldn't teach you guys about the technical side of wrestling even if I tried. What I can talk about for a little bit is striking though. I'm going to need someone to come up here with me though.”

He looks around the crowd trying to not make it obvious. He finds someone avoiding eye contact, and immediately makes her a target.

Kris: “Maddie, want to come up?”

She shakes her head ferociously, knowing better than to get up in the ring with Kris. It was by design though. Kris knew calling on someone else would trigger the jealousy in his least favorite student.

Kurtis: “I’ll do it.”

Kris’ heart leaps in his chest, but he knows he cannot let it show on his face. He scowls, sighing heavily.

Kris: “I don't even know why I'm surprised…”

Kurtis knows that Kris cannot say no without everyone in the group thinking he backed down, so he climbs the ring stairs and enters between the middle and top rope. He comes over to Kris, and offers his hand, but Kris simply glares down at it without shaking it. He turns back to the crowd instead of dwelling on it.

Kris: “You can know all of the technical shit in the world, but if you can't stop someone from knocking you out you're never going to win any matches. It's not about dodging. It's not about evading. You need to learn how to anticipate what is coming. Know your opponent as well as you know yourself.”

There are nods of agreement from the trainees, and Kris is quite pleased with himself. He was making it all up on the spot and they were buying it without question. Kris turns from them to face Kurtis, motioning for him to put his hands up.

Kris: “When an opponent squares to you, you can't spend all your time watching their hands. It's in the shoulders.”

He uses his right hand to tap his left shoulder.

Kris: “Nice and slow Kurtis, we aren't going full speed here.”

They circle each other a little, both of them with their hands up. Kris’ voice raises, talking to the crowd again.

Kris: “If someone is going to go low on you, you're going to see them drop their hands just a half inch…”

As he speaks Kris does that, baiting his hook. Kurtis, in response lowers his to match and tucks his elbows in to absorb the shot.

Kris: “Wait to see the shoulder twitch so you know which side it is coming from…”

Kris fakes with his right hand and Kurtis reacts. He drops his gloves to cover his ribs on the left side of his body. As soon as he does Kris flips his footing, planting his left foot and swinging as hard as he can with every bit of his power and weight behind it. However, he is not aiming for ribs. He is not even throwing a right hand. Instead, he throws a left hook that connects squarely across Kurtis’ cheekbone. The rookie drops immediately, like a lifeless ragdoll. The students gasp, and some step forward. JD and PJ both hop onto the apron but Kris holds his hand up and shakes his head. He reaches down to Kurtis, and snaps his fingers but gets no response. He holds the back of his hand to his mouth, feeling his breath on his hand. As soon as he feels it, he stands back up. His emotions finally boil over.

Kris: “DON'T YOU EVER TRY TO FUCK WITH MY LIFE!”

The words are lost on Kurtis, but it makes the rest of the group back off. The voice that comes out of Kris is more hateful and angry than anyone had ever heard. He shakes his head, not paying any attention to the students and spitting on his unconscious trainee. He crosses the ring, dropping to the mat and rolling under the ropes. The students immediately flood the ring, checking on Kurtis while Kris makes his way back to the office. He pulls the bar off of the door and opens it to find Coby leaning on the desk waiting for him.

Coby: “He alive?”

Kris shrugs.

Kris: “Breathing.”

Coby sighs, nodding.

Coby: Do you feel better?

Kris rolls his shoulders, letting out another deep breath.

Kris: That was the easy part….

Coby pushes away from the desk, pats Kris on the shoulder, and heads out through the door without a word. Kris starts unwrapping his hands, tossing the tape in the garbage and the gloves back in his bag. He wishes he felt better. Felt anything. Instead, he is just numb. He puts his feet up on the desk, cradling the back of his head with his hands and closing his eyes. He was not sure if he was ready for the next part, but he knew it was his only option.



========================
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Monday Afternoon

He opens his eyes when he hears the knock at the door. He could not have been asleep. He had not done much of that at all in the last week. Kris pushes himself up from the couch, dreading each of his steps until he pulls open the door. There she was, only concern on her face. Her eyes begged him to change his mind but she was in no place to vocalize it. She tries to force a smile, but it looks like Kris is looking through her instead of at her. She holds out the same plastic bag to him.

Kris: Receipt?

She nods.

Kali: It's in there.

He does not respond, simply taking the bag from her and moving it to his left hand. He reaches back out with his right.

Kris: Give them to me…

She shakes her head, but her hands move to the bag on her hip. She pulls the folder from it, and holds it out to him. He grabs it, but she does not let go.

Kali: You don't have t---

Kris: Yes I do. Let go. Just give me a second.

Her eyes plead with him for just another moment before she reluctantly lets the folder go. He tucks it under his arm, nods, and closes the door. As soon as he is behind it, he spins, putting his back to it. He leans his head back, resting it against the wood, closing his eyes tightly.

KJ: You're doing the right thing…

Kris swallows hard, not opening his eyes. A tear falls from his eye, and he nods. He knows that nobody is really there but right now it does not matter. He did not want to do this alone. His voice cracks and is barely above a whisper.

Kris: I know.

He raises his arm, brushing at his face and forcing himself to move from the door. Crossing the living room is like walking in quicksand. Every atom in his body wanted him to stop. His feet barely leave the ground with each step, but he pushes through the door and into the kitchen. His legs wobble as he gets to the island countertop in the middle of the room. He puts the bag down, and the folder next to it.

KJ: You know it's the right thing.

Kris closes his eyes, looking down. He nods. Without opening his eyes he flips open the folder. It takes the motivation of another deep breath, but he opens his eyes to look down at the papers it contained. Right on the top, the petition for uncontested divorce. It was all there in plain letters. His signature already on the bottom from when they forced his hand. His fingers fumble around in his pockets for a pen. As soon as he finds it, he clicks the top, and quickly scribbles the date next to his signature like he was ripping off a bandaid.

KJ: It's okay. It's over now. Two more.

He cannot stomach looking at it anymore, flipping it over. He pulls a stack with it, all of terms of the dissolution spelled out over and over again that he gets nothing. The next one is even more difficult. He tries to ignore the top line, but catches his son’s name as he searches for the signature line. Tears start to roll from both eyes now as he scribbles the date a second time.

KJ: One more. You're doing so good. I'm proud of you. You can do it.

He flips the page again. The form was identical to the last, with the exception of a few names being switched around. He is careful to stay away from reading his daughter's name so he did not have to feel the shame of letting his sister down as well. With the last of his energy he writes the date, and closes the folder. It breaks him. The pen flips out of his hand, and his legs fall out from under him. He sobs, leaning on the counter until he feels his son’s hand on his shoulder.

KJ: Come on. You're so close…

It was too much. He hits his head against the counter, wanting to feel something other than this. Anything would be better. His hands come together, the fingers of his right hand finding the ring on his left. It feels glued to him, liked it was suddenly two sizes too small. He fights with it. Finally finding the willpower to budge it, it falls to the countertop. The clang it makes echoes through the whole house. Everyone has a moment in their life that feels like it will not end. This was his. The sound rings in his ears for what feels like centuries.

KJ: Get up….

He does as he is told. His son’s voice in his head is reassuring. He steps away from the counter to the fridge, reaching up to open the cabinet above it and remove the small wooden box from its hiding place. He takes it back to the counter. Not bothering to close the cabinet. Setting it down, he removes the lid. The bags inside had no power over him. Not anymore. Nobody would buy the lie if he left them behind though. He reaches in, grabbing the bags and stuffing them into his pockets. He does not even bother replacing the lid, driving himself forward.

KJ: Do you remember where it is?

He exits the room, climbing up the main stairs to his office. His son follows him the whole way. Kris does not look behind himself but he can feel him there. He might be at rock bottom but he is not there alone. By the time he gets to the door he is on autopilot. He is just a spectator to the events, crossing the room to an amp for his guitar and reaching around to the back side. The panel was missing, but what he wanted was just inside. He grabs it, pulling it free and holding it up.

KJ: Why did you keep it?

Kris shrugs, his eyes scanning the label of the container. Two red lines appeared over the tab for opiates. Reading across it, the fail bar was also red.

Kris: As a reminder that I would never do it again…

He turns, basically gliding back down through the house. Before he realizes it, he is back in the kitchen, fumbling with the bag Kali brought him. He pulls out the receipt first, the date and her name being across the top from swiping her credit card to pay for it. He places it on top of the folder, next to his ring. There was no arguing it was from today. He reaches into the bag again pulling out the same brand of drug test he had failed. He rips it open, pulling the container out, spinning the top off and scattering the instructions for it on the counter. He leaves the box, the ripped plastic, but pockets the container itself. Instead, he takes the old failed test and leaves it in its place.

KJ: It's better this way. We all have a chance now.

Kris nods. He leaves the counter, heading back to the door. Next to it are a small bag, and a single guitar case. He shoulders the bag, picks up the case, and reaches for the handle of the door.

KJ: Dad…

Kris turns. He should not listen. It is all in his head. It does not stop him from turning though. He does not even have to respond.

KJ: Close your eyes...

Kris nods, taking a breath. Tears roll through his closed eyelids.

KJ: Five…

His mind wanders. First meeting Heather. The smile on her face in her sister’s driveway. She challenged him. She pushed him. She was not content to let him get away with anything. He fell in love with her that day.

KJ: Four…

He can almost hear the knock on his door the night she came back. The night that he had finally been able to admit the feelings he had the whole time. She had broken through those walls, but he could not admit it until it was almost too late. She came back though. It was when he decided he would marry her.

KJ: Three…

The wedding. A day he never thought would come. He promised himself that it was never going to happen for him. Standing across from her he had never seen anyone more beautiful. He thought the bubble would and she would say no. He pictured what it would be like to be left there by himself. The two words he got instead changed everything.

KJ: Two…

Labor. Holding her hand in the hospital. Holding their daughter for the first time. Sitting KJ in their lap and introducing him. It was everything he never had. Everything that he never thought he was good for his entire life. It was all right there in one memory.

KJ: One…

Kris opens his eyes. He is alone. The house is silent. He takes a look around the room, turns the handle and walks out.

 OFF-CAMERA
Jet City, WA
16 June 2017
8:59 PM PDT



”I feel like it is a champion’s mentality to actually care about all of the people that stand across the ring from them. For instance, even if the most talentless person in the world stands across from you, you should always try to hype the fight. Always come prepared. Always have something ready to say if they have some insult to hurl your direction. No matter who it is, a champion should be able to make something out of nothing. A champion should be able to pull a fan out of the crowd and have a high quality match.”

The video starts with a shot of Kris sitting behind a desk. Behind him are separate pictures of Violet Ripley, Parker Wayde, and his brother Jason, all taken after they won championships. The pictures of all three head trainers are a dead giveaway that we are in the back office of the Jet City Sports Lab. To the surprise of no one, the name on the placard that sits on the desk reads “Phillip Ripley” not Kristopher Halich. That is also probably the reason that he is nonchalant in the way he sits. He has the office chair leaned all the way backwards, his feet on the desk on top of what are probably important papers that he had not bothered to clear off. Finally, the thing that most all of the viewers notice before anything else, is the Roulette Championship draped over his shoulder, and pinned to his chest by his crossed arms.

”Here’s the thing… none of that sounds like me.”

He sighs heavily, shaking his head. He looks back at the pictures on the walls behind him, raising his left hand to point up at them.

”It sounds like them. It sounds like the things that they tell people that come into this place to hone their craft. Don’t get me wrong, it is good advice to give to the newbies. Anything that can keep that magical glint in their eyes a little bit longer is worth saying. It is only a matter of time before the majority of them fall to the wayside and get forgotten. Not everyone is meant to be a superstar. Every major training facility in this country has at least a handful of students. If I asked all of you at home to write down the names of twenty people that debuted in the last year and were worth paying attention to, I bet none of you could. So every single training facility will make people bust their asses, all while giving them some kind of idealistic view of how things work. There’s a reason that I am not a trainer here. It is the same reason that I never trained in a place like this. That being, none of that shit sounds anything like me at all. It doesn’t sound like something that anyone would believe if it was coming out of my mouth in some half-sincere way. It is not something that anyone would expect me to buy into. I am the guy that used to come to shows so fucked up that I couldn’t remember that I was even booked, remember? You think that I am the guy that could pull some fat, uncharismatic fan out of the audience and entertain people with the match we would put on?”

The thought actually draws a laugh out of him. He pulls his feet down off the table, knocking some of the papers onto the floor as he does. However, he does not even glance down at them before continuing.

”It’s totally okay that a lot of you just chuckled and said ‘fuck no’ to your computer screens. I’m not going to hold it against you, because you’re absolutely right. I’m not that person. I’m not those people...”

Without turning back to the pictures, he points back over his shoulder at them.

”Let’s be totally honest. If I were to pull a fan out of the audience, it would not be for a match. It would be to explain why wrestling them would be a better alternative to fighting boring ass Steve Ramone for a sixth time. It would be to draw comparisons to the Mean Girls or their male counterparts when the person had nothing interesting to say, no real ability to speak of, and spent ten minutes wasting everyone’s time. I mean for Christ’s sake, I am the guy that constantly gets told that I cross too many lines on social media. I am the guy that is being billed opposite Mikah Green to shred the entire roster on the SCW website on Saturday nights. I am not the guy that is going to build up anybody, least of all someone that is not worth my effort, or the screen time that this match is going to get.”

He shrugs, unapologetically, getting up from the chair. The suddenness of his movement sends the chair rolling backwards into one of the bookshelves behind the desk. The impact that it makes knocks over half of the stuff on a shelf right at eye-level. The noise it makes startles him, but after finding the source of the sound, he blows it off and turns back to the camera without fixing it.

”Joshua Acquin is a waste of my time, and my effort, but if this was the first time we were facing them, I might give him a little more credit. If it was the first or second time I was facing him, maybe I would be a little bit worried. If the last time that I beat him was more than two months ago, I might prepare a little. However, I have beaten this man twice, and on both occasions he did little more than walk down to the ring before my hand was raised and I added another win to my record. He wasn’t a challenge to me when he was part of a championship level tag team. He wasn’t a challenge to me at Climax Control 178 when I pinned him in the middle of the ring. Why should I care now? What has changed?”

He comes around to the front of the desk as he talks, turning Phillip’s name tag upside upside down before leaning against the desk. He waits for the audience to give him an answer, without a chance for response, before breaking down his own question.

”Well for me, I have a little bit more to carry around with me these days….”

He rolls his shoulder to draw the fan’s attention to the Roulette Championship that hangs from it. His eyes only linger on it for a second before he raises his index finger to his cheek, tapping it a few times like he is trying to think.

”Let’s see… what else...”

He snaps his fingers, having some kind of epiphany and pointing at the camera.

”Oh yeah! That is right. I haven’t lost any matches. I won the Roulette Championship. I defended the Roulette Championship. I hosted one of the most talked about Climax Control’s ever as a celebration for my birthday. I got given a show on SCW programming with the best looking female on this entire roster. I booked the main event of the very show where I embarrass this waste of human potential for a third time… Oh, and I am part of a group that contains half of the champions in this company. I guess I have been a little busy after all. What about Acquin?”

Kris does not hold back this time, nor does he wait for a response that cannot possibly come.

”Of course, I mean other than losing everything that he participates in, getting embarrassed by an unbooked Calvin Harris at Into The Void, and bitching about the fact that he does not get the same opportunities as other people. I cannot believe that I am about to say these words, but it is like he is a less talented Travis Andrews….”

He shakes his head, not liking the sound of that one.

”He is like a less successful Gabriel Asar….”

Kris waits, giving the audience time to collectively ask who the hell that even is.

”...and in case none of you remember exactly who that is, that’s kinda my point. Acquin’s one claim to fame is the fact that he was tag team champion here a couple times for a combined three months, the last of which more than two years ago. In case you don’t realize how long two years is, let me help out. Two years ago Dying Breed was good enough to be tag champions, and earlier this year Jet City wiped our asses with them. Mikah was just starting out as one of the most dominant Bombshell Champions in this company’s history. The Mean Girls were actually a little interesting. I hadn’t knocked up Liz Smalls and removed her from all of your lives yet. I could go on, and on, about all of the people that were relevant back then that none of you can even remember today, but I have made my point. Things were much different two years ago. A lot has changed. That means that people like Joshua Acquin don’t matter anymore. The world has moved on. ”

It seemed like the typical place that Kris would lay off, but something about today was different. When he laughs, there is no joy in it. He seems more irritated than anything else.

”You know what hasn’t changed about this world though? What hasn’t changed is that I was good enough to beat this guy’s ass two years ago, I proved that I was still more than capable just a few shows ago, and yet this guy is still opposite me on the card. Leading up to Into The Void, everyone but Ryan Keys was saying that I had to be sucking dick to get into the match. They said I was undeserving. Yet, I won that match. Then I went on to beat Steve Ramone to complete the hat-trick of back-to-back-to-back matches and victories against that fucking guy. I get excited to have my birthday to kick back, make some jokes, and refresh, only to be booked against the last fucking guy I beat before those matches.”

He stops, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself. It does not have any impact on his mood though. If anything, dwelling on the idea for the extra couple of seconds just make him more angry.

”He’s fucking terrible. Put that shit on record. Christian? Mark? You guys paying attention? I know you’re back this week, so you better be listening. I tried to make this match a title match, or at least toss in some Roulette rules just to make it interesting for me. Honestly, I don’t know why either of you constantly waste time shoving this kind of person down our throats. I mean the list of people demanding title shots is long. Why though? Probably because when people bitch, you both cave. How many people in this company have to tell you to kick those types to the curb before you listen? How many of us have to bitch about having to beat down the same hacks every couple of weeks? When are you both going to find a set of balls and tell them to go fuck themselves? Are you really too blind to see that people like Travis Andrews come back and demand title matches because that shit seems to work with you two? Anyone can cut a few promos demanding shit that they haven’t earned. The true test of management is ignoring it and booking things that people want to see. Rest assured, the last thing that they want to see is Joshua Acquin in a ring… at all… let alone against a champion. Nobody cares. Nobody is interested.”

He stands up on his feet, taking a step away from the desk.

”People like me are starting to realize that while we bust ass, other’s are line hopping. While people like Chelsea and I had to work our way up from show openers, people like Veronica Taylor get handed things based on the fact that she is in a group that used to be popular. Can anyone tell me what the last time was that she showed any effort or talent at all? Where was she at on the card for Into The Void, though? People sit around wondering why SCW seems off of everyone’s radar. It’s because the people that get chances here, are the same people that are jokes everywhere else. All anyone has to do is pay attention to social media to notice that.”

He shrugs, finally starting to calm down.

”But, to reuse the phrase, here’s the thing...”

He turns around one of the chairs in front of the desk to be facing the camera, and takes a seat.

”....the booking decisions, different talentless members of this roster, the history of this company, and the standing of this company in the minds of those in this industry aren’t really any of my concern. It’s not my job to police this company. Sure, it is frustrating. Sure, it pisses me off from time to time. However, come Sunday, I get every chance in the world to do something about it. Earlier this week I begged you guys to make this Roulette rules. I begged you to let me put my title on the line. Now I’m begging you to do the opposite. If you throw the rulebook out the window, if you put my title on the line, I am going to beat Joshua Acquin so far into the ground that I am never going to have to say his name again.”

He raises his left hand to point, with his index finger, at his own face.

”If you think this is some kind of joke, look at my face. This isn’t ‘Kris being funny’ or ‘Kris being Kris’. This is me telling you that if you do that, all of the things that piss me off about this company, and the people in it, are going to be dumped onto Acquin, and your ring crew is going to have to come out and scrape him off of the mat.”

He laughs.

”Consider it a dare.”

 
”Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.”

Kris is sitting against the brick wall in the lounge of the Jet City Sports Lab. The hardwood floors under him cannot be comfortable to sit on, and the rigid bricks had to be painful against his back, but the smile on his face shows that neither are bothering him. He flips the pages of Henry V, skimming through Act Three before closing the book and holding it up.

”If you ask a college educated person to talk to you about war, that is normally a quote that they throw on you pretty earlier in the conversation. I had the distinct lack of pleasure of having to read this play in high school. I had pretty much forgotten about it until this week. I was reading the little promotional blurbs that the interns write about each of the cards that Sin City releases, and something about my match struck me.”

He drops the book to his lap, and reaches down to the floor on the opposite side of him than the camera. He lifts a piece of paper from the wood floor, and reads just one line from it.

”Kris will have his hands full, being his first real foray into the Roulette Division.”

He sighs heavily, and then drops the paper to the floor where it originated. The former Internet Champion shakes his head before turning his attention back to the camera.

”Someone needs to hire better writers for the SCW website. Anyone that has paid a little bit of attention to me in the last few weeks knows that this is far from my first chance in the Roulette Division. I have challenged two different Roulette Champions for the title, and got my ass handed to me both times. Equinox even had the distinct pleasure of kicking my ass twice for the same title. I am sure that Alex Kaelin would have done the same thing if he would have stuck around for longer than thirty seconds.”

He seems disappointed in his history with the Roulette Division, and he rolls the paperback book in his hands, smacking it against his palm.

”That is why the quote came to mind. This isn’t me throwing my career, body, and reputation on the line for the first time. I have tried before, and I have failed before. I cannot even say that the third time will be the charm, because this will be the fourth. The most violent matches that I have been a part of have come after spinning the Roulette Wheel, and I have competed outside of this company several times. There is nothing more brutal, or more unpredictable than going after the Roulette Championship. Even worse, the nightmare does not end once you win it either. Every minute you spend in pursuit of, or laying claim to this championship is a minute you lose off of your career. Why do you think that it keeps switching hands so quickly? Holding this title is physically and mentally damaging.”

He unrolls the book, and just stares at the cover while he talks.

”All week-long people have been asking me if I am sure this is what I want. Christian double checked with me, and seemed surprised that I was not going to be going back into the tag division. Mark double checked with me after I made my intentions clear. Friends, family, and people I don’t even know have asked me if this is the best move for my career. To be honest, it probably isn’t. Chasing this title is going to hurt. Winning it is going to be difficult. Keeping it for any period of time has recently proven to be impossible. However, I didn’t come back to play it safe and do what was right for my career. I came back to mend bridges that I had burned, and to succeed where I have previously failed. Part of that failure involved the Roulette Championship. There’s only one thing that I can do to undo that failure.”

He turns the book to the camera.

”Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.”

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Jet City Sports Lab
28 April 2017
6:34 PM PDT

The gym is packed. From the moment that Coby had given it a free plug through weeks of promos, dozens of people had poured in trying to find someone to train them, or somewhere to work out that wasn’t some depressing gym chain full of half-functional equipment and fatties that were only kidding themselves. One of those people had been Abby Watkins. Kris was surprised to see her, only because she wasn’t some rookie trying to break into the business. She was a former tag team champion in her own right. To put it in the most insulting way possible, she did not need Jet City. However, she was family, so when she asked, he couldn’t say no. Today the two stand in the middle of one of the two rings inside the facility, Kris having protective pads on each hand for Abby to hit. The two of them are drenched from head to toe in sweat, a clear indicator that they had been at it a while.

”Your brother might actually die if he saw how bad you were sucking right now...”

It was the kind of comment that he knew would irritate her. Parker Wayde had always been part of her life, but until October, he did not even know she existed. She wanted to make it on her own before she tried to be a part of his life. His opinion of her was attached to her self-worth, which was something that Kris understood all too well being a younger sibling himself.

”Why are you always such a dick?”

Before Kris can respond to her, she fires off a combination of two left jabs, followed by a right, and then a high kick that Kris must shift on his feet to be able to catch with the pad. She was every bit as fast as he was, and seventy pounds lighter on her feet.

”My parents were really mean to me.”

Breathing heavily, she takes a step back and waves him off. Kris tries to mask the relief that washed over his face by using one of the pads to wipe sweat from his forehead.

”Let’s not go there.”

Kris smiles, knowing full well how to make anyone uncomfortable in any situation. She drops to the mat and rolls out of the ring before starting to unwrap her hands. Kris traps the glove under his arm, against his ribs, and pulls his hand free before pulling off the other and tossing both out of the ring in her direction.

”All this training and you don’t even know where you’re going to sign yet...”

She turns back towards him after throwing the wrapping from her left hand in a garbage can.

”At least I am doing some real training in a ring. What’s your excuse?”

He looks almost offended, stepping to the ropes closest to her and leaning forward on them.

”Training in the ring would be a waste of time. I can’t get locked into any one game plan. It is Roulette Rules.”

Abby starts unwrapping her other hand, a look of confusion washing over her face.

”What does that even mean?”

This draws a laugh from him. He had made the point on a few occasions that SCW always seemed to be off the beaten path. It should not have surprised him that she was not familiar with the concept.

”They spin a wheel. It gives the match a stipulation. That’s what we go out there and do. No way to plan, because you never know what the wheel is going to do. In my experience, that fucking thing hates me. I know what Steve can do in the ring. I know what traps to stay out of. As far as the actual match though, I won’t even know what I’m walking into until I am in the ring.”

Abby nods, the concept seeming unique to her.

”What kind of stipulations are you talking?”

This gets a much more enthusiastic laugh from Kris.

”The works. It could be anything from a Triple Cage to a Water Balloon War. You never know what you’re going to get. I can’t prepare for some kind of Barbed Wire Massacre when the reality of it is, I could end up in a tuxedo match. It is all up to chance.”

She nods.

”I get it now.”

Now it is Kris’ turn to look confused.

”I would hope so. It is not hard to grasp.”

She shakes her head.

”No, not that. The quote. You keep saying it lately.”

He smiles widely, because she was the first person to make the connection.

”Before our innocence was lost, you were always one of those blessed with lucky sevens.”

Abby nods, tossing the wrapping from her right hand into the garbage.

”You cleaned up, so you’re banking on those lucky sevens to come back your way.”

He shrugs.

”I’m not sure you can un-lose innocence, but it is worth a shot, right?”

It takes her a second, not wanting to give any kind of free reassurance to someone that goaded her into breaking her hand just over a year ago. He was different now though. Better yet, he was basically family now.

”It’s worth a lot more than that, but you already know that. If you didn’t, this whole ‘Pure’ thing would never have happened.”

It takes a few seconds, but Kris nods in agreement with her. Abby scoops a towel off a nearby table, and wipes her face with it before pointing to the back. He does not respond verbally, instead nodding a second time. She heads off towards the showers to get cleaned up. He watches her go, and then looks out at all the people enjoying this place that he and Coby had basically built on their own. He might not be able to get any innocence back, but if business was any indication, those lucky sevens had already come back to him.


====================================================
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”It is strange to have back-to-back matches where you refer back to the same point in history.”

There is nothing particularly impressive about the former SCW Tag Team Champion’s surroundings. The kitchen of his home is much less exciting than the rock wall we caught him scaling last time. The camera is set up on an island-style counter in the center of the room, and Kris is leaning against the counter in front of it, peeling an orange.

”But first, I apologize for not being able to greet you from a more entertaining place. I can’t always be in the most creative of venues. I have responsibilities these days. Not just to you people, or to the Jet City Sports Lab, but here at home. I can’t exactly expect my wife to take care of an infant, a toddler, two dogs, and a teacup pig all on her own. I already get to unfairly jet off for the weekends. During the week, it is hard to get away.”

He is still way too small to be seen in full view of the camera, but as Kris is talking, KJ's tuft of blonde hair raises off his head just high enough so that he can be seen moving in between the counters where Kris is standing. The younger half of Jet City looks down and smiles, breaking off a piece of the orange. The viewers see a tiny hand reaching up, opening and closing a few times to show that the toddler wanted what his father had. Without hesitation, he hands KJ the piece of the orange, and the tuft of hair wanders away from the camera.

”Anyways, referring to the same point in history. Last week I had to remind Joshua Acquin that I had already been in a match with him once before. That match ended with him tapping out like a bitch not once, but twice. See, the first time, the referee was not paying attention. Josh thought he had escaped. Moments later he was screaming like a little girl again, and the match was over. Some of you might be asking why I would need to bring that up again this week. The answer to that is simple. The whole reason that Josh was tapping out like a bitch was because his tag team partner was incompetent and couldn’t make the save. Who was that tag team partner? None other than the man with only half a dick left, Steve Ramone.”

Kris breaks off another piece of the orange and pops it into his mouth. He looks away from the camera for just a second, most likely keeping track of what his son was up to, before turning his attention back to the viewers.

”That’s right! Good ol’ four inch… er… I guess two inch is more appropriate given recent developments… has already been in a match with me before. The same match that Acquin was in. Meaning the only time sorry ass Steve has been in the ring with me ended in an emphatic loss for him. In case you missed it when I said it last week, that match happened when my partner and I couldn’t stand the sight of one another, and Steve’s team was coming off a tag team title run. He was at a high point, and I was at a low point, yet my hand was the one raised when it was said and done. Now, I am a little more seasoned, a whole lot more sober, and riding a pretty nice wave of momentum right now. I have pulled a 180 since our last match. On the other hand, Steve has botched most of his opportunity. The guy lost his title to Ryan Keys and half of his dick to a veteran porn star that forgot there's no place for teeth in a blowjob. History shows that he couldn’t manage to beat me while I was down, why does he even expect to have a chance now?”

The blonde tuft of hair makes another appearance as KJ walks back to his father, reaching up and demanding another piece of the orange. Kris looks down, shaking his head.

”This was supposed to be for me, you know?”

KJ says something that the camera does not quite pick up, and Kris smiles, handing him another piece of the fruit. Like the first time, KJ disappears afterwards, going back to whatever he was doing on the opposite end of the room. Kris returns his focus to the camera.

”I get it though. The dude must a little pissed off. As a former champion, he should have gotten his shot at Keys before anyone like James Tuscini or myself got involved in the mix. I mean that is what rematch clauses are for, right? Here is the problem with that: nobody is interested in seeing “Captain Half-Cocked” take on the “Human Sex Toy” Roulette Champion for the thirtieth time. What do either of them even have to offer? Steve only ever talks about banging sluts that have no standards. Ryan spends most of his time on camera debating on what degrading thing he is going to wear. It’s fucking boring. Best case scenario? Keys retains over someone we have seen him beat before. Worst case? More Roulette Hot Potato. It is a lose-lose situation. Throwing in James Tuscini doesn’t add any appeal, because Xander Bishop made that dude his bitch. Given the options, doesn't it make sense for Mark Ward to add me to the title picture?"

Kris turns to his left, tossing the peel off of the orange into a trashcan off screen.

"Some people saw it as a shock. Christian expected Jet City to make another go of it. Jason's on a worldwide vacation, and not speaking to me, so that's a no go. Others expected me to set my sights a little higher than the third-tier gimmick belt, but no way I’m entering the clusterfuck main event picture where four people have legitimate claims to the same title. I guess there is the Internet, but I have been there and done that. Hopefully all of you are starting to see where this path leads. The Roulette makes more sense for me right now than anything else that SCW has to offer, but that is still a couple weeks away. My point is, my addition to that match at Into The Void directly led to this match at Climax Control. This week, Boston gets a sneak preview of what is going to happen at the supercard.”

He pauses just long enough to shoot a glance back over at his son before continuing.

”That makes this match about momentum, not that I really need any more of it. My first match back in SCW I beat Ryan Keys. More than a year of ring rust didn’t stop me from winning that match. Since then, I haven’t been pinned, and I haven’t tapped out. That was November of last year. What has Steve done in that time other than drop the Roulette Championship twice, and be a constant embarrassment to this company? The fact is, if you add both of his reigns together, it doesn’t come close to how long I held the tag team belts.”

He holds his hand up to the camera before viewers can raise any disagreement with him through their screens.

”Yeah. Okay. Fine. Tag team wrestling is a different beast. Let me give a better example. If you add those two reigns of his together, it doesn’t come close to the reign that a distracted junkie that was sloppy in the ring had with the Internet Championship two years ago. Who was that person? Me, and I beat him while strung out and not giving a shit. If he can’t even stack up against that person, what chance does he have against me now?”

He tosses another slice of the orange in his mouth, shaking his head and enjoying a light laugh while he chews it.

”Do yourself a favor Steve and have your girl chomp down on the half a dick you have left, because not being medically cleared to compete is the only way that you don’t end up losing this match. If you choose to show up, and you are in the ring when the bell rings, I can’t guarantee that you even make it to Into The Void. Is that what you want? Yet another missed opportunity?”

Kris pauses to let the the question settle in, and the blonde tuft of hair makes yet another return to the frame. This time Kris does not even wait for him ask before extending the last piece of the orange out to him. Once the child takes it, Kris holds up his empty hands to him.

"No more."

The little one takes off, leaving his father standing in the frame alone again. He looks back at the camera.

"That goes for all of you too."

He smirks, winking at the camera at the same time that he makes a clicking sound with his cheek. With that, the video cuts off.

 We open on Kristopher Halich pacing back and forth in front of the camera. He is wearing a plain white shirt, and bright orange basketball shorts, a clear indication that he is somewhere inside his home. He is looking down at the floor as he moves back and forth in front of the camera. He mutters a few words, but they are mostly to himself. Suddenly, he stops, coming to some kind of conclusion in his head.

”I guess that I have been a lot more quiet on social media since my last match. I kind of avoided saying a lot last show even though I ended up in front of a few cameras. The thing is, as much as it was time for Jet City to take a backseat for a little while, Jet City gave me direction. When Jason and I first started putting Jet City together last year, I had been out of wrestling for a while. It had been a while since I had really been seen anywhere and at one point I was pretty sure that I was done with this business. I had come in, had some success, and that was going to be enough.”

He takes a deep breath, taking another step like he is going to resume his pacing before stopping himself and unpacking more of his thoughts.

”Jason had it in his mind that he had done everything that he ever wanted to do, except hold tag team titles with me. It was important to him, because as he has told all of you on more than one occasion, he borrowed this dream from me. He felt like because of that, his career should make it come full circle. Jet City had a pretty solid championship run from the first moment we showed up in SCW, until the second split. We even had a match against each other which was more than we could have ever asked for, honestly. I challenge any of you to name a pair of siblings that wouldn’t jump at the chance to fight each other in front of a few thousand people, while a whole lot more watched the events from home.”

This time a chuckle cuts him off. He does not look at the camera but fans can see his hand clench into a tight fist as he realizes where his thoughts had led him to.

”Now that Jason has left on his world tour, Jet City isn’t around to give me direction anymore. I think that is the reason that I have been quiet. For a while I was thinking that maybe I could just fall back in with the same people that I used to hang around. I thought that the Kris Halich that you all would want to see, would be the one that found the most success here. I thought about throwing on the red hoodie, coming down to the ring to some Manson, and talking about how entitled the roster seems to act these days.”

As he speaks he takes a few steps before turning on his heel, and going back the other direction. As he finishes, he pauses while he runs over the faces of the people on the roster. Before he gets lost in it, he shakes the thought away. He stops, and actually looks up at the camera this time.

”What I’ve come to realize, is that isn’t me anymore. I’m not a nobody, despite what some people might try to sell you. I got off to a rough start here, but I kicked a whole lot of ass on my way to the Internet Championship and I held onto that thing for four months. I got to main event shows against people in the SCW Hall of Fame. I made such an impact that when I came back more than a year later, Jet City was a no brainer for a tag team title match. A tag team title match that we won that led to neither of us being pinned, or submitted since we the moment we signed a contract. For Jason, that means never actually being bested, at least in a technical sense, for his entire time here. I can’t call myself a nobody having done those things. It takes way too much effort to sell a lie, and everybody can always tell when you’re faking it. Look no further than Xander Bishop for an example of that.”

Not a chuckle, but a full bodied laugh cuts him off this time. It takes him a moment to get it under control, but once he does, his face melts back into that same irritated confusion from before.

”So what else could I do for direction? Shedding the nobody gimmick should have been a no brainer, because I actually turned my back on that once already. That’s the reason that Lexi pretty much can’t stand me. I picked up and ran with this “Accident” thing for a long time because it mirrored what people said about me. I had a recognizable last name when I popped up, so I accidentally lucked into the right places at the right times. The Nobodies were an accidental hit. Who thought that people would respond to people they could relate to? I accidentally got Despayre to start competing in singles when he had been part of a tag team for so long. Look at him now. Let’s also not forget the punchline of accidentally impregnating Liz Smalls.”

It brings a smirk to his lips. That was a subject that he no longer touched on a lot because it seemed like such a long time ago. However, it is wiped away just like his thoughts of reclaiming the mantle of ‘nobody’.

”Here’s the problem with all that, I’m not that person either. I didn’t accidentally show up in SCW. If you all remember, the first thing that I told all of you when I came back was that I was here for redemption. I was here to do things the right, and sober way. I wanted to step into the ring and know that I pushed things as far as they could go for as long as they could go every single time. Win or lose. To tell you the truth, more often than not I did this job just to collect a paycheck. Nothing more. Nothing less. When I made the decision to come back, it was to show everyone what I could do with actual motivation. Jet City winning and reigning over the tag division for four months wasn’t an accident.”

He reaches off camera and when he comes back to the center of the frame, he has a steel chair in hand that he unfolds and places a few feet in front of the camera, sitting down. He looks only at the floor for a second, bringing his hands up to his face to try to wipe the lack of sleep out of his eyes.

”Therein lies the problem though, right? My very actions seem to ruin every direction that I could go. Nothing that I have ever done quite fits the person that is sitting in front of you today. I’m a somebody, that’s here on purpose, that’s no longer being held back by an overprotective partner.”

As he goes he seems to get more and more excited about being “let out of the box” as Mikah had put it on Twitter. For the first time, the idea of shedding all of those identities did not seem to be weighing him down.

”A Blast From The Past partner is a little different from a regular partner though. I mean for one, she is much better looking. For two, she is a she. Although, I’m not 100% sure that is an actual difference from what I am used to. The jury is still out. We’re also not fighting to protect anything. From the first match Jet City had here, we had the titles and from that point it was just about keeping them. There was no chase. It was a balancing act. Blast From The Past is a chase, and the biggest chase that this company has to offer. Outlast teams comprised of literally anyone interested in joining from inside the company, or outside the company? All for the chance at winning a title shot? Not as a team really, but two individuals each trying to claim their prize.”

He lets his mind wander to what he would after winning the tournament. It all seemed so close. The reality of the situation brings him down out of his thoughts though.

”The match itself is even different. We can’t single a person out, because as soon as one person makes a tag, both teams switch things up. It goes against the very nature ot tag team wrestling to offer your opponent a free time out every time you tag. However, the fact that we are each pursuing our own prize by winning this, it means just about everyone can learn to coexist with someone for a few matches.”

He shrugs. Even someone like him, who was typically incapable of playing nice with anyone, could learn to play nice for a short period of time if the price was right. In the case of Blast From The Past, the price was perfect.

”I happened to get lucky. The random partners thing popped up my name right next to Polly Playtime. She may not be the most decorated person on the female side of this tournament, but she is probably the most like me. I can look at her and see the same, ‘fuck the world let’s go have fun at it’s expense’ look in her eye that I see in the mirror. When everyone participating in the tournament was announced, I made lists of who would be acceptable to team with and trust when I say that Polly’s name was on the top of the shortest of the shortlists. The fact is, she’s not even reached her full potential here yet. You can look at half of the names in this tournament and notice that they are past their best years. As Chelsea Payne has put it a few times, you can’t look around the locker room without seeing at least one reanimated corpse that SCW brought back for this tournament.”

At the mention of Chelsea’s name, he winks at the camera, no doubt part of the ongoing battle with her boyfriend. He was not about to lay off the rest of the people in the tournament though.

”In addition to the old, there are a lot of choices that were bad for more than one reason. For instance, I didn’t want to team with Amanda Cortez because it turns out I am allergic people with herpes. I could have never focused. I would have had to wear gloves just to tag in and out and that doesn’t sound fun at all. But it’s not just that. Some I just couldn’t stomach being around. One afternoon with Sam Marlowe and my brains would be art on the fucking wall. Our personalities clash. Mainly the fact that I have one, and she is way too far up on her moral high horse to allow herself to find her own. She literally worked concessions after Chelsea beat her. She’s a fucking doormat.”

He shakes his head, a light shiver running down his spine at the mere thought of having to deal with her week, after week, after week. That would not be a price worth paying. There was a light at the end of the tunnel though.

”But no…. I got Polly. It seems like we are going to be on the same page about most things without having to really even talk about them. Anybody that pays enough attention to either of us knows that putting us together just seems to make sense, and sound damn entertaining. We made it a point to pop up last week, even without a match, just to test the waters. That’s more than you can say about some of the teams in this tournament. Someone of them have been quiet. Some of them just blatantly hate each other, not unlike the team of Misty and Brother Grimm apparently.”

Some of the confidence that he has been lacking up to this point starts to come back as he turns towards the subject of the people that he was going to actually be in the ring with. He seems to stop himself from going any further though. It was not the right time or place, nor was it what he had sat down to talk about.

”There are just a few things that all of you need to understand going into Climax Control. As far as partners go, I hit the jackpot. As far as direction, I’m done searching for answers in the past. The only thing that matters is getting to the end of this tournament so that this next chapter, regardless of what it is going to be called, can go ahead and get kicked off sooner rather than later.”

He offers a smile before standing from the chair, and disappearing past the side of the camera. For a moment, it stays focused just on the chair, before the feeds cuts off to static.

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4 April 2017
11:22 AM PDT
Jet City Sports Lab


Kris bursts through the glass double doors of the front entrance of the gym that he and Coby Quik had been slaving to get open over the last few weeks. Kris had even allowed Coby to unveil the gym as part of a dig at an opponent of his own. However, now that it had been announced to the public, their timetable to get it done was shrinking. The doors do not even fully close behind Kris before the noise he makes grabs Coby’s attention, who is working on organizing the layout of the gym.

”What are you so pissed off about so earlier in the morning?”

Kris makes short work of the distance in between himself and Coby, and tries, but fails, to calm himself down.

”Early? Coby it’s almost noon. This isn’t early. Early was when I was up at five o’clock with two very awake children after only getting about an hour of sleep because I have been having to secondhand argue with people all day, everyday, for like three weeks!”

Coby looks up confused.

”Secondhand argue?”

Kris’ phone beeps in his hand and he does not even look at the screen before spinning on his heel and throwing it as hard  as he can across the room. It first makes contact with one of the weight racks which splinters the phone into pieces that go multiple directions.

”Every time my phone goes off it is someone texting me, or calling me to tell me that Jason has changed something, or wants to do something different than the way we planned it.”

Coby nods in agreement with him, not seeing how it makes Kris any different from any of the rest of the people involved with the gym so far.

”Yeah, he is on his world vacation with that chick so he calls in to tell us all how horrible we are at doing all of his part of the work for him. Join the club dude.”

Kris steps forward and places both of his hands on Coby’s shoulders, which gets the smaller man to look up at him.

”No…. He calls all of you… and then all of you come to to me. He won’t talk to me. I won’t answer calls, and he ignores texts. The night we lost the titles, he said we needed a break, and that is the last time I have heard from him.”

Coby slaps both of Kris’ hands away and laughs.

”So you’re mad that your brother broke up with you? Dude haven’t you been going on and on for years about how you have done everything in your power to get him to go away and he refuses to leave you alone? Now you are actually complaining about the fact that he isn’t talking to you. If I didn’t know any better I’d say that you actually---”

Kris turns away from Coby and kicks a stack of workout mats that go flying.

”There’s just so much going on and I’m tired of being the person at the end of the chain. The sign outside says Jet City. Last I checked I am half of Jet City, and if I remember correctly, the better half after our match against each other. Now I’m suddenly not good enough to talk to.”

Coby laughs.

”How does Heather deal with you? You are like a big, whiny, man-baby, and she already had a toddler and a newborn at home. You just threw your phone across the room and broke it while you were throwing a tantrum. Just chill.”

Kris turns back to Coby confused, and then looks back and forth between him and where the phone shattered. After looking back and forth a few times, Kris points in the direction of the phone questioningly.

”You mean that phone?”

Coby nods, the confusion now spreading to his own face.

”What other phone would I be talking about?”

Kris shakes his head and smiles. His hand drops to his pocket and he pulls his phone from it, clicking the screen on, and showing Coby the background picture of Heather.

”My phone is fine.”

Coby points over at the decoy phone now totally lost.

”What was---”

Kris cuts him off, but is already backpedaling back towards the front of the gym.

”Oh, that one was yours. You left it outside and I walked past it on the way in. Chelsea has been looking for you...”

Coby takes one more look back at the shattered remains of the phone before taking off at a sprint towards Kris who pushes open the front door and takes off down the street.


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”The problem with this tournament is the people that it brings out.”

This time when we open on the former SCW Tag Team Champion he is dressed as we would see him on his way down to the ring. He is sitting on a table, his back to the obstacle course that takes up half the floor space at the Jet City Sports Lab.

For the most part we get people from past and present SCW, with a couple outside faces popping in. I have been here while a few of these tournaments have been going on, but never lept into them before for that reason, and that reason alone. It attracts the stars of yesterday and unfamiliar faces. In a lot of cases, a good chunk of the people that show up in thr tournament have nothing better to do with their time than participate. They have sometimes spent months, or an entire year since the tournament last happened not involved in this business and staying safely at home.

He takes a drink from the bottle of water in his hand, and uses his other hand to brush away sweat from his brow.

”Meanwhile you have everyone on the roster here busting ass week in and week out. We have promos that you can watch for every match that we have ever been in. We pop up on the show even when we are not in the ring. Most of us even have some kind of Twitter presence where you can get a real feel for us without having to pay attention to the show even. We are easily accessible at the click of a button.”

He shakes his head, looking disappointed.


”To be completely honest with all of you, I when I wasn’t part of this company, I wasn’t paying any attention to it. Misty and I have both come and gone from SCW a few times, but we have never really been around at the same time. Before this match was announced the only thing that I knew about her was that she used to have some really bad memory problems. When she came back for this tournament the last time, she was very touchy about the subject and went as far as to block me on social media. Our paths never actually crossed to my knowledge. After this match was announced, I learned something else about Misty. I learned that there was some dude named Brother Grimm that has been trying to make her life hell for the last year. I shit you not, it was all news to me.”

He laughs, but there is something under the humor that was not yet coming through.


”I’m not trying to say that the people standing across from me at Climax Control are not to be taken seriously. These two are the second most successful combination in this tournament. They have six championship reigns in this company between the two of them, and have actually competed in this tournament before. Furthermore, they can both look back at the last few months and see exactly what Polly and I have been up to. They can plan for our exact timing in a match. They can see the mistakes that we were making right up to Blaze of Glory. The fact that we have been around week after week means that we are undoubtedly two of the most thoroughly scouted individuals in this tournament.”

He shrugs.

”Not even I have a response to that claim that is going to be able to sway any of you away from the belief that this is going to be probably the toughest challenge that I have ever come up against. What I can tell you, is that all the research in the world cannot make up for the fact that Polly and I doing this every single week is the best thing that we have going for us. Sure, it definitely means that we are going to be the less prepared team heading into this match, but it also means that we are the most ring ready. We know exactly how hard we can push ourselves today, not how hard we could do it months ago. Maybe that is what gives us the edge in this match. If it’s not that, maybe it will be the fact that we can actually get along.”

He pauses to let the dig settle in.

”The announcement for this match came with the disclaimer that Brother Grimm has made Misty’s life hell. If that is true, how can she stomach the idea of tagging him into the match. For that matter, why would she tag herself into the match in order to save him from catching a beating? I mean that’s the only reason to tag in this match, right? As long as you have the momentum you want to stay in the ring, because the moment you tag out, your opponent gets a breather. The only reason that Brother Grimm would be reaching to tag Misty’s hand would be because he needed her help. I don’t know about any of you, but no title shot is worth saving a person that was trying to ruin my life. No accolade in this business would be greater than knowing that I was the person that could offer help, but they were reaping exactly what they have sowed. Why would I throw that away in pursuit of a possible shot at a championship at the end of this tournament?”

He seems to consider the other side of the coin as well.


”Conversely, if I were trying to ruin a person’s life, why would I even attempt to function as a partner to that person? If my whole goal was to see them crushed, would I not just bring some popcorn down to ringside and witness the carnage first hand? It wouldn’t make sense to offer my hand and allow them reprieve from bodily harm if I wanted to see them in agony. Let’s face it, these two functioning as a team is not only unlikely and illogical, but goes against who they both are as people. Yet, standing across from that are two people with no ring rust at all that can actually manage to get along with one another.”

He tosses the half empty water bottle into a trash bin and uses a towel to dry his face before pushing off of the table.

”All things considered, I’m not sure either of our teams has an edge going in. We each have positives, and negatives, and highlighting every one of them would take lots of time and would be super boring for everyone involved. The fact is that you two have the experience in every possible way that you could define the term. On the other hand, my team is more than match ready, capable of working together, and made up of two people whose brightest days in this company are ahead of them and no longer in the rear view.”

He takes a step towards the camera, contemplating how he wants to close out. He hunches down so that his face is directly in front of the lens.

”Misty, you don’t even have to be on my radar for this match, because my sole purpose has to be to keep you on the apron. To me, this is just a match between me and Grimm with the added difficulty of making sure Polly’s shoulders stay off of the mat. The easiest way to do that is to keep you out of this match. It seems to be as good of a shot as I am going to get. ”

He laughs.

”So that just leaves us, Grimm. Which one of us is it going to be? I’m sure our opinions on the matter are not going to agree with one another, but I also think that you are banking on something that is just not going to happen. You whole shtick revolves around me being afraid of you. If you know anything about me, you know that I am already really well acquainted with real fear. That kind of terrified your life is ending and seeing it flash before your eyes kind of fear. There is nothing that a man inside a wrestling ring can say that is going to come close to that. There is no threat you can make. There is no harm you can inflict. The one weapon that you know to use, just isn’t going to cut it in the ring against me, and no amount of reading up on me is going to be able to prepare for that fact that I’m not a guy that follows a plan during a match. Not even I know how this is going to play out, and I’m not going to try and run it all through my head. When that bell rings, whatever happens, happens. I don’t see you besting me even if it was on your best day.”

He flicks the button on the side of the camera, cutting the feed off to static.

 

”Ivan Darrell and Andrew Garcia….”

Jason’s voice can be heard before the camera even focuses on the two men that are standing in front of it. The figure next to him speaks, not letting the fans down by not appearing next to his brother.

”Dying Breed...”

The camera comes into focus on the two. Each of their shirts is a plain color, Jason’s red and Kris’ orange. Across the front of each shirt is a word, but they are not the same. The older brother’s shirt reads, “#Jet” while the younger’s reads “#City”. They are even standing on the proper sides, so that fans watching can read left to right across their chests and put the team name together correctly.

”Former SCW Tag Team Champions...”

Until now, both of their voices had sounded genuine. Each statement was bold, and meant to be a headline of sorts. Kris is the first to break from that, turning to his brother and complaining.

”From like… March 2015 to… later in March 2015. Do we really have to build these guys up as important? Like, I feel like everything we have to say is just so much stronger without doing the whole song and dance. We have to mention their ‘blink and you missed it’ tag team title reign, when they didn’t even have to beat the former champions to win the belts? I don’t think I can stomach this one Jay.”

Jason tries to stay focused on the camera, and not break from the serious look on his face, but when he notices that Kris is not just going to stop and go back to what they were doing, he turns his head and then moves his eyes back and forth between Kris and the camera, hinting at him to stick to what they were doing.

”Oh fuck you and your camera! These guys haven’t done anything worth getting a title shot in a while. So they beat the Bad Boys and get to move to the front of the line? We hate The Elder Bitches, but they should have been given this shot instead of these two. How good can the Bad Boys be? Isn’t one of them brain dead enough to be able to stomach conversation with Veronica Taylor?”

Jason starts nodding back towards the camera, becoming more overt in trying to get his brother to go back to talking to it instead of him.

”For the love of God… WHAT?!”

Jason extends an arm to the camera, and finally snaps, raising his voice and yelling at his brother and tag partner.

”Talk to the camera. Vent frustrations to people buying tickets. Sell the match to people that are planning to leave early and beat the traffic out of the arena. Stop telling me things I already know, and talk to them. Why can you nev---”

Kris cuts him off, holding up his hand and turning from his brother to the camera.

”Want frustration? Here is some frustration. We are defending our titles in a main event that they didn’t earn, and that we never asked for. It’s got all of thirty seconds worth of hype and thought put into it. From what I remember, I’m not sure we’ve so much as really talked to each other since Jet City has been around SCW. Other than a shot at titles that they couldn’t hang onto last time, what reason do they have to be excited about the idea of fighting Jet City?”

He waits, but Jason does not answer him, and neither does the camera as a result of being an inanimate object. Unchecked, Kris just keeps rambling.

”It’s not like they don’t like us. We haven’t been mixing it up with Dying Breed on social media like we occasionally do with the likes of “The Promise Breaker” Rage, or Drake Green’s little bitch J2H. We didn’t cross paths in the back, or come out and take note of one of their matches. There is nothing here. So, that just leaves me with one question: How many di---”

The camera feed cuts awkwardly in the middle of the sentence, and starts abruptly what had to be a few moments after that. When it does come back, Jason is stepping away from the camera, when only a frame ago he was directly next to Kris. The tone of Kris’ voice had changed entirely, almost remorseful.

”How was I supposed to know? It’s not like I really know or pay attention to them.”

Jason shakes his head, and motions back to the camera, ushering Kris to take a different route with his words.

”Yeah, well you know now….”

Kris nods, but the look on his face shows that if he does actually care, it is very little.

”It doesn’t matter how or why Dying Breed got this match. I don’t know what strings they pulled, or favors they called in, but here we are. I also don’t want to give any of you the impression that I’m not game to walk down the aisle and compete in this match. I’m going to be in the middle of that beautiful six sided ring, in a main event, as a reigning champion. That’s not something that having less than stellar opponents is going to change. Jet City is still going to come out there, do our thing, and walk away with another title defense under our belt. By my count, that would roughly be two more than Dying Breed racked up in the three weeks that they held these championships. If they think that they have a snowball’s chance in hell at walking out of this with a win, then The Mean Girls are not the only special needs case on this roster. And just like that faction of dumb sluts, these two can easily ‘Get Fi---”

Again, the feed awkwardly cuts. Jason goes from standing at Kris’ side to having his back to the camera, walking back to the position that he technically never left. This time he is beyond angry though.

”Just shut up. I’ll do it myself.”

Kris shakes his head furiously and argues that directorial choice.

”Listen asshole, if you think that you still get to order me around after I beat your ass in our last match, then you can eat a mouthful of my ba--”

Again the camera cuts, but this time when it returns, Jason is in front of it by himself. He takes a deep breath, clearly annoyed.

”You know what the definition of insanity is according to Einstein? I don’t think, for a second, that there is any way that a viewer of this particular kind of entertainment has never heard the phrase quoted, but I will give it to you for the millionth time anyway. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. It is horribly cliched to point out, but everything about my current situation ties to that phrase.”

He expertly pauses, allowing the minds of those that are watching the video to try and figure out what he was going to say next. Confirming the most thought of choice, his next words reference his brother.

”Trying to get Kris to stay away from a handful of subjects during a promo by playing nice, was obviously just stupid. Trying to enforce those rules while being polite was insanity. You people aren’t going to believe this, but we started this at nine this morning. Thirteen hours later, here I am by myself. I blame myself, mostly…. I think we all know exactly where Kris stands though. Fortunately for us all, he is taking a little nonconsensual nap of screen.”

He raises a finger and points out of frame to the left of the camera. Slowly it turns and shows the opposite side of the basement than what they were facing. In the small resting area to the side of the obstacle course that has made appearances in previous promos, is a couch that looks ripped apart. The table there has been flipped over, two glass end tables have been shattered. In all of the mess, resting on the back of the couch, is a foot up in the air. The rest of the other half of Jet City was out of view, but the PF Flyer on his foot gave his identity away. Slowly the camera starts to move back to the standing half of the SCW Tag Team Champions.  

”Let me remind all of you, I’m no stranger to being called a little insane, but I am not the only one in this equation that is displaying that kind of behavior. Don’t believe me? Think about SCW Management. Before our first match with the Unholy Alliance, we told management that they didn’t deserve it, and that they couldn’t beat us. They proved on that night that they didn’t need to beat us. The Unholy Alliance just needed to give management a little sizzle and they would get a title shot. Sure enough, their plan worked. They got their match, and again, Kris and I told management that they didn’t deserve it, and that they would lose. Inception II came and went, but the SCW Tag Team Champions remained the same. Now here we are, after an attempt to pull us apart, with Jet City delivering the news that a team has done nothing worth giving a title shot to, and because they were never made to earn it, they are not motivated to take these titles. Dying Breed is going to lose, because the powers that be in SCW keep doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting one of these teams to knock us off the top of the mountain. ”

He pauses, shaking his head.

”And on the subject of the vampire and the mobster, I heard it mentioned during last week’s show that the big win they picked up has moved them back into our sights. Let me be the first person to tell you, they are further off of our radar than Dying Breed was before this match was announced. They fail to beat us once, maybe giving them another shot makes sense. At this point they have failed twice, and no winning record against other teams is going to change the fact that they CANNOT beat Jet City. It would be insane to book that match for a third time. Think about it gentlemen.”

He brings both of his hands up to cover his mouth, his eyes going wide. Still feigning mock outrage at his own words, his voice becomes much more high pitched as he mimics the voice of Ms. Rocky Mountains as best he can.

”But Jason, talking about The Unholy Alliance means that Jet City is already looking past Dying Breed, but that match is for the titles….”

His face goes emotionless, and he shakes his head slowly back and forth, rolling his eyes.

”Are we underestimating them? Maybe. Are we looking past them? Definitely. A successful tag team always keeps their eyes on the future. Why? Because there shouldn’t be any doubt in their minds that there is another challenge coming after this hurdle gets jumped. The moment you start thinking that maybe your next challenge is going to be your last, is the moment that you lose the championship you’re holding. Rest assured, that’s not going to be a line of thinking going through any of the heads in Jet City. We are looking ahead, because anyone thinking that Dying Breed is going to be the team that ends our title reign needs to be committed to a room with fluffy walls and a hug jacket.”

He laughs.

”So on behalf of my brother, “Mr. Jet City” Kristopher Halich, I’m going to suggest that before Dying Breed comes out the ring for the main event, they pick up a phone and use it to call an ambulance.”

He takes a few steps closer to the camera, leaning in so that only his face fills the frame.

”Dying Breed is going to need it, because they think they are leaving with tag team gold, when really they are walking into the worst accident of their career, and will be lucky to walk out.”

The camera feed fades out to black, and just before it cuts off, the Jet City logo pops up, freezing on the frame as the video ends.

 The scene opens close up on Kristopher Halich’s face. We can see that his knees are pulled up to his chest, and he is leaning against something, but we cannot really tell what. From the glare in his eyes, and the natural light though, he is clearly sitting somewhere outdoors. From his attire, jeans and a plain red t-shirt show it must be somewhere warm.

“For as long as I can remember, there has always been one person there for me every time that things went wrong. At the point that everyone else leaves, there is always one person there to pick up the pieces. I know that it’s not just me that sees it that way either, because The Unholy Alliance hit on it pretty hard both times we faced them. Jason is always there to clean up my messes. He is always looking out for me. He sacrificed so many things in his life to make sure that I was taken care of, and it didn’t start after he started competing and blew up to be the person you all know today. He dropped out of school to get a job and pay for things so that I wouldn’t have to do the same thing. He took beatings for me so that I wouldn’t have to. He has paid for me to go to rehab so many times that I’ve honestly lost count. I could sit here and list all of the things that he has done for me, and all of the disasters he has helped me to avoid, but I don’t think it would hold your attention for the hours that it would take. Instead, I can sum it up in one statement. I would not be breathing right now if not for Jason Halich.”

It was a somewhat different side of Kris than SCW viewers have ever gotten to see. There is no confident taunting in his every statement.

“It is weird that we are going to be across the ring from one another, because in the four years that I have been doing this, it has never happened. We have gotten offers, and opportunities, but something always got in the way. There have been moments when we were at each other’s throats and a match like this would have gotten bloody, and violent, but we passed up doing it. There have been other moments where we have fought in hotel rooms, driveways, living rooms, and bars, but never in front of a crowd of more than a few strangers or a handful of friends. I have lost my fair share, and I have won my fair share. No two fights were perfectly alike. This is different though.”

The whole situation clearly bother him more than he was willing to let on. The camera starts to back off of him, showing the stone texture of whatever he is leaning against.

“We didn’t join SCW to go head-to-head. We joined this company in order to build one another up, not tear each other down. Anyone that knows us knows that we have issues. More than being brothers, there is an aspect of a father-son relationship here that we never really shed any light on. We didn’t have great parents. To tell you the truth, we didn’t even have good parents. One of them was a miserable son of a bitch that never contributed any positive experiences to our lives. The other was more or less an absentee from my first memory in this world. The only person I ever had to look up to, to take care of me, that ever gave a shit about me, is my brother. Our struggles that a lot of people see as a sibling rivalry are actually more the kind of arguments that a parent has with a rebelling teenager. It is because he was more of parent than a brother that the two of us have never been, and will probably never be, friends. Everyone has an experience where their parents had an idea for how they should live their life, and because of that, there is friction.”

On his last word, he brings his knuckles together, dragging them across each other. He shakes his head, looking away from the camera, his eyes narrowing on something. There is a light chuckle that escapes his mouth and he loses his train of thought. With a second shake of his head he comes back to the camera, sighing.

“When people talk negatively about me, the biggest thing that they hit on is my history of drug abuse. I have fans come up to me, and they always ask the same thing: Why is it that none of it seems to bother you? See, I out my drug history as a way to control the narrative against me. I put it out there for everyone to grab onto it and use against me, because if that is what they choose to blast me about, I can take it. There are so many other things that I don’t want out there, because putting them out there means that it can be used against me. There are some things that I just didn’t think that I could handle being turned into a punchline. In this business, divorces, abortions, dead children, heinous violent acts, and so many more things can be turned into cheap jokes made to get into a person’s head all to win a match. In that kind of world, I would rather people just talk about the fact that I got into drugs at a young age, and for the life of me I have never been able to stay off of them for more than a year at a time without a setback. I can handle that because those choices are mine, and that means the consequences are on me alone.”

He puts a hand on the ground, and pushes himself forward, brushing off his pants as he gets to his feet. The camera stays focused enough on him to not show his surroundings. However, as he stands, we now see the daylight sky in the background behind him.

“One of those things that I don’t talk about is the fact that there aren’t two members of Jet City, but three. Before Jason and I signed a contract, we had to go and ask permission to do so. We made promises to someone. His was that he wouldn’t let me be a danger to myself anymore. Typically that meant that I wasn’t going to be allowed to be on the road. My history with not being supervised is sketchy, at best, for reasons we have already covered. It made sense that he would make that promise. Mine was a little different. I made the promise that I wasn’t going to stay in this business at the expense of the only relationship that has survived all of my various fuck ups. I wasn’t going to keep doing this if it meant pushing my brother away.”

The camera finally backs off of him far enough to show that where he is standing is a cemetery.

“So, before we showed up at the SCW Halloween show dressed as siamese twins, we came here. Where is here exactly? This is the place that it all leads back to. This is where Jet City was born. This is the place that the third member of our team never gets to leave.”

There are headstones surrounding where he now stands, but the fans cannot catch any of the text on them before the camera focuses on the one he was leaning on.

Lindsay Marie Halich
July 11, 1991 - September 25, 1993

The camera comes back up to Kris, who is looking down at the ground instead of at the camera. His hands were buried in his pocket and the anxiety of the topic had him shifting lightly back and forth on his feet.

“My sister was only two years old when she fell, broke her neck, and never got a chance to do anything that she deserved to be able to do in her life. As far as parents went, I already told you the kind of people that they were. One bolted, and I wish she took the other with her when she did. Neither could accept responsibility that two kids, that weren’t even old enough to take care of themselves, should have never been left on their own to watch over a toddler. That blame got passed onto us, and I have carried it around without saying anything about it publicly for my entire career. That blame broke me in ways that are very public. It didn’t break Jason though. If anything, fighting back against it made him stronger. It made him a better parent than either of the ones that we actually had. It made him protective of the one person that he had left that meant anything at all to him. It meant that no matter how badly, or how many times I fucked up, he wasn’t ever going to give up on me because he learned how much it hurt to lose a sibling at the bright young age of seven years old.”

He manages to look back up at the camera, but only because the questions, and accusations that he had been met with for weeks should have been answered in that one story.

“If any of you have ever wondered how two people that grew up in the same house could be so different, then maybe that helps explain it. If any of you, like the Unholy Alliance, have wondered how many more times I have to fuck up before he writes me off, now you know. What I have come to accept in the last few weeks is that there is no limit. There’s no threshold that I can push it to where he leaves. I cannot be written off in his mind. I have spent more than two decades trying to push him away, because I didn’t want anyone to get close enough to me so that it was painful when they left. I have tried to shove him out of my life dozens of times because I didn’t want him to miss me when I was gone, or waste one second worrying about my well being if I disappeared. I have tried everything that I could to avoid being a good person, friend, brother, or even son. None of it has worked. I’m stuck with him.”

He laughs, amused, but cleared not thrilled with the idea.

“So, those of you that were thinking that a match like this is going to be the end of Jet City, now know just how wrong you are. The fact remains that nothing can end Jet City. There’s never going to be a time that either of us gives up on the other, even if it means that we have to stand across the ring from one another and beat the other into submission. At the end of the day, this is not our first fight, and it is far from out last. The only difference between this one and any of the rest of them, is that you all get to sit back and enjoy this one with refreshments you bought from Samantha Marlowe at the concession stand.”

Again, he has to stop as he is unable to prevent himself from laughing lightly. He points at the camera, and winks, hoping on some level that she was watching. This voice was returning to the more jovial, sarcastic tone the fans were used to.

“Just because it’s not going to signal the end of Jet City, doesn’t mean that this match doesn’t serve a purpose. Any of you that paid attention to Jason pretending to be a Nobody a couple weeks ago knows that there is something very real on the line here. Being part of this business and wrestling around the world was my baby. He nurtured it while I wasn’t in a position to do so, and kept it breathing until I was able to get myself right enough to do so. However, in doing so, he found something that he loves doing, and that he was good at. Jason has been inducted into a Hall Of Fame. He has won awards. He has won championships that I have only ever dreamed of holding. On paper, this match isn’t even close. On one hand you have a highly documented superstar from several different companies. On the other hand, you have a junkie that has been moderately successful in exactly one of the five companies that have paid him to wrestle.”

He holds up his arms to his sides, shrugging in a very animated fashion and shaking his head.

“It’s not even close if you look at the stat line. At the same time, I see people on social media saying that they don’t know who to support, let alone who they think will actually walk away the winner. To me, that shows that all of you understand that what this match looks like on paper is going to be very different from the reality of it. My brother and I have two very different styles. He is calculated, and technical. He likes to break people down in order to beat them, and really only uses his speed as a last resort. He has training that I never got. Then you have me, who is more of a human wrecking ball where speed is the best thing that I have going for me. It is the first option, all the way through to the last option. If I am going to win, then I am going to have to stay on my feet and hope that my stamina lasts longer than his does.”

Finally getting into being focused on the match itself, he seems to hit his stride. The words flow much more fluidly, and naturally. The level of comfortability in his body language grew exponentially as it becomes more business related.

“I can’t tell any of you that I am confident that I am going to win this match. I honestly have no idea how it is going to play out. It is better that way, because like I said, we have fought more times than either of us can count and it has been a different story every single time. You can’t plan to fight someone that you have known since the moment that you were born. You can’t strategize to beat someone that knows every single thing that you have in your arsenal. The only thing that you can do is show up, throw everything, including the kitchen sink at him, and hope that when the dust settles that you are the one having your hand raised.”

He starts to walk up to the camera, again closing the frame almost solely around him. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“As far as any message that I have for my brother, there’s really only one thing to say. The two of us have made careers out of using anything and everything available to us to win a match. There has never been a rule that we would not bend or break in order to gain an advantage that could end with a win. That’s not going to be the case for me this week, and I hope that it is not the case for you. I am going to make certain that everything that I do is squeaky clean, because the only way that I want to beat you in front of a crowd like the one we will have Sunday is because I was just better. I don’t want to be more lucky. I don’t want to be the one that got away with the last trick. I don’t want to be the one walking away and talking about a cheap win. I want to beat you the right way, because I want you to really know that my time in your shadow is truly over. I want to beat you because I am better than you, even if only for one night in my life. That’s what I am bringing to Climax Control. Win or lose, we only do this one time. After Sunday night we will know which of us really belongs in the spotlight. Then we go back to beating up other people on the roster.”

He offers a smile to the camera, the first since the feed first started, and walks out of the frame. The camera again falls down to the granite headstone he was leaning against before fading to black.

 December 9th 2016
Seattle, Washington
Jason Halich’s House
Off-Camera



Kris entered the house ten minutes ago, not surprised to find it dark and quiet. The sun was not even up, so the fact that there were no lights on in the house would have led anyone else to believe that the residents were sleeping. Fortunately, from knowing the occupant for a long twenty-seven years, Kris knew otherwise. He makes his way through the dark rooms and hallways without flipping on a light. He had done so a number of times before, so he knew his way around. There was no danger in falling over something new, or something rearranged, because his brother was not here often enough to do so. However, two days before his first solo match in two years, Kris knew that he would find him here. That is why he was not surprised when he opened up the door leading to the basement and got blinded by the bright florescent lights.

Jason’s basement was not typical in any way. As soon as the door opened, the previously pin-drop silent house was filled with music. The house had been built in such a way that the sound did not travel through the floors. That was true between the main floor, and second floor, but especially true for the basement. When Haley had lived here, it was absolutely necessary to trap noise between levels as they kept alternating schedules. Kris makes his way down the stairs, a handrail the only thing separating him from a drop to the concrete floor. In constructing the house, Jason had demanded that the basement floor sit twenty feet below the ceiling. He had plans for this space, and he delivered on it with his own creativity. Not only did it contain a full gym, and a ring, but also an obstacle course equivalent to that of a Ninja Warrior set, and not the generic American substitute.

Kris had tried to run the course setup faster than his brother on multiple occasions, but always came up short. Half of the gym equipment was set to so much resistance that Kris would spend more time adjusting everything than he would working out. Anybody that had ever met the two of them knew which one of them was the harder worker, and the more determined, but it was never more obvious than in this setting. Kris reaches the bottom of the stairs and pushes back his right sleeve to check his watch. It was only five-thirty. Being that it was Jason, that probably meant that he was already an hour and a half into the day.

Kris steps into the main area of the obstacle course, the music so loud that he could not locate his brother. Instead of wandering around searching, he makes his way to the table resting alongside the final obstacle in the course and picks up the tablet that rests on it. He clicks the screen to life, and presses his thumb to the sensor, unlocking it before spinning the digital sound knob down to zero.

Jason: “What the fuck!”

Kris’ brother comes out from between a few of the obstacles, pulling a towel from his back pocket to wipe at his forehead. He stops when he sees that it was his brother and not technical difficulties that stopped him in the middle of his workout. Kris thought that maybe he would become less annoyed knowing that it was not some flaw in technology, and  a real person instead, but his expression does not soften.

Jason: “Is there something I can do for you? Not all of us have the luxury of having the week off. I have a match I need to get ready for.”

Kris laughs and holds his hands up, pleading innocence.

Kris: “Calm down Captain Roid-rage. I just wanted to see what was up. Nobody has really seen or heard from you in a week. We were thinking maybe you pushed yourself so hard up here that you died. You are getting kind of old.”

Jason approaches the table and grabs a bottle of water from it.

Jason: “First, shut up.”

He spins the top off of the bottle and tosses it into the trash pin at the far end of the table before taking a long drink from it.

Jason: “Second, not everyone prepares for matches by blowing a paycheck on smack and then banging random Twitter skanks.”

Kris takes clear offense to not only the words spoken, but the hateful and pointed tone in which they were directed at him. In response, he holds up the index finger of his left hand.

Kris: “That’s one.”

Kris takes a step towards his brother, and rests his hand on his shoulder.

Kris: “You need to calm down. You get too far into your head about this, and it is going to go the way that you fear it going. Bring it down a notch.”

Jason finishes the bottle of water and then slaps his brother’s hand away before tossing the bottle into the same bin as the lid.

Jason: “It has been two years. When we won these titles, I could feel myself getting winded around the halfway point. That is all well and good when there is someone that I can tag in and catch my breath. That was the point of doing this thing together. I thought I would have time to get my form back. Apparently not. I need to cram about three months' worth of prep work into a week. I need to be able to go full speed.”

Kris surveys his brother, trying to figure out exactly how hard he is pushing himself. He was not as observant as his elder, or even the majority of their friends, but something does stick out to him. His eyes track down to his brother’s right knee, which is entirely exposed. The scars surrounding it have faded with age, but were still prominent enough to be a red flag.

Kris: “Where’s your brace?”

Jason laughs, and again towels off his forehead.

Jason: “Full speed, Kris. It would only slow me down. I am not taking the risk of not being ready to go.”

It was the kind of comment that Kris would have expected to hear come out of his own mouth. Mostly because it was stupid, short-sighted, and more dangerous than helped. Jason starts to turn away to get back to what he was doing, but Kris tracks quickly around him to stand in his way.

Kris: “And what happens when you blow your knee out for a third time? Not even in a ring, or at a show, but in your basement of all places? How fast are you going to be able to go then?”

Jason reaches out and places his left hand on Kris’ left bicep before swiping him out of his way. He tries again to go back to what he is doing, but this time Kris reaches, and grabs his shoulder, spinning his brother back to facing him. In response, Jason swings at him, but Kris gets a hand up to swat it away. Jason follows, raising a knee to catch Kris in the stomach, but the younger brother lowers both hands, interlocking his fingers and slamming them down hard on top of Jason’s left knee to avoid. The strength at which the knee is propelled forward causes Kris to take a step backwards. Jason is not letting go though, he takes a step forward to close the gap, He throws another right hand, but Kris leans back, avoiding it, and then grabbing his brother by the arm, and wrenching him into a bent forward position, and then raising a foot to kick the back of Jason’s bad knee, which drops him to both knees on the floor. As soon as his knee hits the concrete, Kris lets his arm go. Jason quickly shifts to be sitting, winded. He looks up at Kris, his eyes on fire.

Jason: “What is your problem?”

Kris laughs, and shakes his head. The audacity of the accusation makes him feel like he is in some kind of alternate reality where they switched personalities. He had never experienced this kind of argument from this side before.

Kris: “We are doing this Jet City thing. We can only keep doing that if you are healthy, and functional. This shit…”

He points down at Jason’s exposed knee.

Kris: “...is going to end Jet City before we actually get going. You need to pull your head out of your ass before you cost us everything we already have, and anything we are going to build.”

Jason shakes his head, and looks down. He pushes up off of the floor, but does not dare plant his right foot flat to the floor. There was a familiar tingling from his knee all the way down to his toes. He was not about to admit that his brother was right though.

Kris: “You want to be a bitch and not talk about what is bothering you? Fine. Just know, that it is not going to be me that fucks this up for us this time. If it falls apart, it is going to be on you. For once, you are going to be the fuck up sibling. I don’t know if you know this, but I am not the type to follow you around and pick you up after everyone breaks you down as a result of it. I am not you. So how about you pry your head out of your ass, and let me go back to making the dumb decisions while you put everything back together. It has worked out pretty well so far.”

Jason laughs, flexing his leg before finally putting it down and putting weight on it. He walks around in a tight circle, testing its durability. When he is satisfied that he is okay, he plants it firmly, resting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor.

Jason: “It is not coming back as quickly as it has in the past. I have pretty clearly lost a step, and I am not sure if I am going to get it back in time.”

Kris holds his arms out to his sides, and shrugs. There is a smile on his face, and a surprising lack of any confusion.

Kris: “What did you expect? You’re getting older. You haven’t even been trying to keep in ring shape for two years. Honestly though, the shit doesn’t even matter.”

Jason raises his gaze to meet his brother’s eyes, and his brow furrows. The confusion that should have been on Kris’ face after the realization was on his own.

Jason: “How do you figure that it doesn’t matter? I step slower means I am behind the ball. It means I am not as good as I used to be. How is that not a bad thing?”

Kris shakes his head, and draws even more irritation from his brother by laughing.

Kris: “Let me ask you a question, when you started out, you were faster and more agile than you are now, right?”

Jason rolls his eyes, not having any interest in playing this game right now. After a few moments of silence though, he comes to the realization that Kris is not going to move on without his participation though.

Jason: “Yes… obviously.”

Kris nods, but that was only the set-up to his point.

Kris: “When you started out, were you someone who had done this job for nine years? Someone that has risen to the top of three different companies? Were you a Triple Crown Champion? Were you in any Hall of Fames? Did you have more championships to your name than you have cabinet space in your house?”

Jason should have seen it coming, but he was too wrapped up in his anger to see where Kris was going before he got there. The short list of his accomplishments that Kris rattles off breaks through that anger and brings a small smile to his face. He tries to play it off though.

Jason: “And?”

Kris closes the distance between them and places his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Kris: “The step you have lost is more than made up for by the experience you have. You don’t need to be as fast, as agile, as you used to be. Mostly because you are not going to make all of the same mistakes that you did back then. All that excess energy you used to burn fucking up, you don’t need it now.”

Jason shakes his head, laughing at the sentiment. The anger and irritation was starting to fade.

Jason: “You realize you are the least likely source of any kind of pep talk, right?”

Kris shrugs, and fires back.

Kris: “You realize that you are the least likely to make idiot decisions in this family, right?”

Kris points down at his brother’s knee.

Kris: “Get your shit together, and then get back to work. I am going to go watch as much as I can about this guy and we can start game planning after you are done, and wash the not-so-faint smell of ass off of yourself.”

Jason nods, chuckling lightly before moving off towards the weight room where the rest of his equipment was. Kris turns back to the table, spinning the digital sound knob again to blast the music through the basement.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


December 9th 2016
Seattle, Washington
Jason Halich’s House
On-Camera

“Lately I have been feeling a lot like my brother. I mean, I came to this company where my name is a virtual unknown, and walk around with people that know more about him than they do me. I have been making dumb choices in training. I have even been picking fights on Twitter with random people for no reason.”

The scene surrounding the elder half of Jet City is strange to those unfamiliar with him. Behind him is a warped wall, and as the camera pans around him fans can see it is not the only obstacle set up in the room. Anyone that follows him on Twitter will notice immediately that it is the same room he has been posting GIFs of his preparation from.

“I thought that this Jet City thing was going to end up making Kris a little more like me. I didn't realize that the opposite would be true too. Earlier today he even gave me one of my own lectures, and I am sure that I looked at him with the same ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ look that I typically get from him. Tagging with someone is no new thing to me. I have done it all throughout my career. I could list off those names, but they mean nothing here. I am a newcomer, and as such, should be treated like one. The fact remains though. I am in the fight that I am in this week, for the same reasons that Kris ends up in most of his fights. I was trying to make a name for myself here. I was trying to take a big leap out of his shadow to do my own thing in SCW. Now, with Jet City being the big picture, that is not going to realistically happen. I am not going to be chasing down singles titles, or competing in big main events as a solo act. For the most part, I am going to be seen standing side-by-side with the kid brother that I normally look down on. That is going to be what defines me in SCW.”

He laughs, breaking his gaze from the camera to look down and shake his head.

“To think that all anyone has talked about in reference to me all week is how I have been a disrespectful prick to the SCW Heavyweight Champion, who started shit on Twitter is kind of funny. I mean I kind of did just kind of show up and win the SCW Tag Team Championships in my first actual match. That has to count for something, right? I mean it is bad form to come in and talk about things you did elsewhere, like they are supposed to matter. I do not have the problem of being someone that is so new that they have not made an impression on the record books. I did not want to wait to have to be recognized. I went out on my first night and did something worth doing.”

For a while his tone trails more and more serious, and less on the jovial side, but as he finishes he smiles.

“This whole thing started because I changed my name on Twitter to promote a party. J2H was too good to come, so I used my initials to make him out to sound like he was actually second in line. J1H has a nicer ring to it anyways, but that is neither here, nor there. I put myself above the champion, and his butt hurt little sidekick took exception.”

He holds up his hands, palms out to the camera, not wanting anyone to take offense.

“... and yes before I get hounded by the SCW police, I know that Rage has quite the impressive resume here. The guy was the first person ever to hold the title that I am holding now almost five years ago, to the date. I know he has held it since that glorious month way back when. I know that he also went on to have the most wonderful month and a half holding the same title J2H carries around. He has even hung onto that title that my… how did it go?”

Jason pauses and raises his index finger up to his lips and taps it there a few times. His eyes widen as a result of his fake epiphany, and he holds the same index finger up in the air to signify the correct phrase has struck him before he continues.

“… junkie brother, whose coattails I am riding, held onto for a while. The Internet Championship, is it? The one that my brother held onto, as the first title he ever won, for a couple of months, when you could not even hack it for longer than twenty-eight days the first time. You were a former SCW Heavyweight Champion at that point Rage. You were a multi-time tag team champion at that point. You couldn’t manage to hang on to a title longer than the talentless junkie half of Jet City. What does that tell you as you get ready to go up against the smarter, better trained, better looking, and more experienced half of this team?”

Jason shrugs, demanding a verbal answer from a person not physically there to give one. He gives it time to set in, only for his expression to shift to one of disappointment when no reply comes.

“I will tell you what you are going to do. You are going to do the same thing you did against Sean Williams and Wyatt Peterson. The same thing you did against Dmitri, Despayre and Nick Jones. You are going to walk in, confident that you are going to win, and you are going to limp out without a damn thing to your name. That latter part though, you are going to do that after having someone beat your ass, and walk away with a title held above their head. Sure, this match has nothing to do with a title, but I thought you could easily relate to the visual.”

He laughs and moves across to the table holding all of his ring gear. There is a bag on the table, and he starts tossing everything into the bag.

“You came to me on Twitter and told me that I was less important than the number one champion in this company. Those were your words, not mine. For that small portion of our back and forth, having a title in his possession put him above other people on the roster. Once you realized that I was one half of the tag team champions, all of a sudden having a title was no longer an important thing. All of a sudden, a person’s past accomplishments and contributions to SCW meant more than anything, and since I have only been around for the blink of an eye I wasn’t worth shit. The way that you flipped your argument to attempt to save face was sloppy and laughable. So let me remind you one thing……”

He finishes tossing everything into the bag and zips the top of it up. He picks it up by the long strap connected to both ends, and hangs it over his shoulder.

“I didn’t approach you for this fight. I didn’t come after you on Twitter. I didn’t call you out. I didn’t even know you existed before you put yourself in front of me, because I am still relatively ignorant on the names and faces of this company. You were the one that took offense. You were the one that tweeted me in defense of the ass your lips are glued to. You were the one that got bent out of shape and hostile. You made this match happen. So the only person that you get to blame when you lose, and have to watch, heartbroken, when my arm gets raised at the end of the match, is yourself.”

He takes a step towards the camera and raises his hand out of the frame, hovering over the button to switch it off. He looks directly into the lens first, speaking directly to Rage.

"I never expected that I would be standing one-on-one in the middle of a ring again. I thought this time was going to be Jet City, Jet City, and even more Jet City. You said that I was riding my brother's coattails. Now you get to be the first one to find out that Kris is not even close to being on my level. That is something that the two of you have very much in common. I would wish you good luck, but I have made enough jokes. I would give you a little catchphrase about an ambulance, but I am the wrong Halich for that. Instead, I will leave you with this one piece of advice."

He smiles widely.

"Next time you want start a fight with your keyboard, do a little research on the person before you click that send button. That way you will not make getting your ass kicked a habit in the upcoming weeks.

He flips the switch on the side of the camera and the feed cuts off.