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There are times when we must look back into our lives, back into times where we experience a little something called life, in order to be able to move ahead. Life experiences, be they painful or pleasant, are what we need in order to successfully evolve as a person, be it alone or when we are with someone. Some call these times ‘reflections,’ others call them ‘flashbacks,’ particularly in a little something called storytelling. Here, we go by the latter because much has happened since SCW went on their extended holiday hiatus. Between then and now. To simply do what others have done and skip ahead without telling a tale, one ignores life and leaves a wide open vacancy in not just one life, but in this particular case - the lives of several.
Las Vegas - December 20
Mid-morning. Just past the hour of 8 AM.The sky above the famed “City of Sin” was overcast in a cloudy gray, dank and dreary and threatening to spill over with rainfall, according to the weather forecast. The sun was attempting to peek out from behind the clouds that had kept it hidden ever since the night had given rise to the dawn, but thus far had been unsuccessful and remained hidden from those below that wished it be released from its heavenly confinement. After all, those within the infamous city in the desert, both local and tourist alike, most wished for the sunny skies to make the most of their upcoming holiday and vacation alike. Thus far, they had been vastly disappointed as there had been light rain and even a few threats of wet sleet in such an unusual cold snap for a desert. To hear some visitors, one would think it was a conspiracy of the locals to ruin their prized vacations, all but ignoring that the locals wanted nice weather as much as they.
Not so much a certain man who called Las Vegas his home away from home, namely Kristjan Baltasarsson. Kristjan had little preference in the weather locally, and although he himself would have preferred a sunny day over such a dismal gray overcast, he did not see a point to bitch about it. His true preference lay where he would soon be returning in just over twenty-four hours; his homeland of Reykjavik. There, he knew from past experiences and, of course, speaking with his family members back home, that not only was it cold, but it had also been gloriously wet with both rain as well as the usual hearty snowfall. There, one rarely had to wish for a white Christmas.
For now, this disheartening weather did nothing to detract him from his usual morning routines. Simply put, Kristjan was a creature of habit and he allowed nothing to cause him to stray from his usual routines. Not even when it came time to awaken his brother and drag him (sometimes by force) to the park for their morning run along with his canine companion, the beloved Kyssa. Be it rain, sleet or wind - injury, hangover or illness, Kristjan did not stray and he credited this time of fanatic dedication as to why he remained the best at what he did. Having just returned home and following a scalding hot shower, Kristjan emerged from the kitchen of his and Aron’s luxurious condo, glass of orange juice in hand, and walked over toward the open-air patio high above the city street and slid it open, stepping outside. The weather did not faze him, despite the fact he was clad in a simple open-arm Tshirt and shorts; he WAS from Iceland after all. This chilled weather was to him like spring might have been to the average person. He took a seat on the cushioned patio chair and slid the laptop around on the glass patio table so that it faced him. Had he timed this right, he knew that she would have only just gotten off of work and would be receptive to his call. He knew her and her husband’s habits almost as well as his own family’s, because to him, they were as close as family could be. And mere moments later, his assumption was proven correct when the call was answered, and there was the smiling face of Elisabet Kai.
The mother of his beloved Jökull.
Even in her middle years, like his own mother, she remained a stunning and powerful Icelandic woman. Her wavy, blond curls spilled down onto her shoulders, framing a strong but lovely countenance. Her eyes, a shade of blue darker than his own. She was indeed lovely in appearance, but there was a strength that she bore, emanating from a hard life, the pain of losing her and her husband’s only child all those years ago.
“Right on time.” She teased playfully, her words spoken in their mutual native tongue of Icelandic, even though like him, she was fluent in English thanks in part to her marriage to her Korean-American husband, Han-Jae.
“As if there were any doubt.” Kristjan replied, catching himself as he had inadvertently responded in English rather than Icelandic, quickly correcting himself with a soft smile, which would surprise many who knew him, thinking him incapable of such a thing. “Sorry.” He said, this time in their native tongue. “I did ask you to talk to me today. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
Those words had a resounding effect on the previous light hearted mood and dampened it somewhat. Her smile remained but the soft twinkle in her eye faded. She cast a glance down, then looked up at him and she said, “I understand, Kristjan.”
“Understand – what?” He frowned, unsure of where this had come from, or where it was headed.
“That you’re unable to come visit this year.” She offered. “I knew given the outbreak of this variant that it might stop you from coming…”
But he quickly interjected, leaning forward in his chair. “Do you think I would let this goddamn virus stop me from coming to see you!? I would have had Aron stuff me in a crate and ship me overnight to get there if that’s what it took!” He waited until he saw some semblance of relief on this woman’s face before he settled down and leaned back into his chair, reaching for his glass of OJ. And he had meant every word. Ever since Jökull’s death over ten years ago, not a single year had passed where Kristjan did not make this pilgrimage back to Iceland from wherever he was in the world, to both pay his respects to his first love, but to also be there for what had to be the toughest time in any parents’ life. After all, if there was one universal truth in existence, it was that no parent should ever outlive their child. From that first year, Kristjan was as close to a son as Elisabet and Han-Jae currently had. After their true son’s passing, they did not try for another. All the light they had as parents had tragically been extinguished.
He added, ”And my brother would probably have been all-too happy to do so, too!”
“Well, I can’t lie and say that I’m not relieved.” Elisabet said with a soft smile that betrayed the very fact she would have been heart broken had he missed this year. She went on, “So what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”
And this was where the hurdle would come into play, how he would manage to breach a topic that could have positive or negative consequences where Jökull’s family was concerned. Not that they would have a right to be upset or angry, but given the sensitive nature of his visits and the reasons behind them, it was a potential powder keg of combustible human emotion.
“I’m … not coming alone this time.” He finally found his voice to inform her with the news, delicate as it was. “Someone asked to come with me and…”
“Is it the young man that you’ve been spending so much time with?” She asked, stunning him into silence. He blinked, having clearly been caught off guard until he gathered himself and he asked, “You know about…?”
“David?” Elisabet finished his thought for him, then nodded and gifted him with a soft smile. We say ‘gifted’ because it was both unexpected and truth be told, a great relief. Kristjan had no idea how Elisabet might react, knowing he had started dating someone. Truthfully, she and her husband could not have logically expected him to go without having someone - anyone - in his life after Jökull’s passing, but logic goes out the proverbial window when the death of an only child was involved.
“Of course I know.” She continued to ease the inner turmoil that he had been feeling deep inside but forcing back into the very depths of his soul. “Han-Jae and I both do. We do watch your matches, you know. And we saw that little kiss between the two of you last year.”
“Little kiss” being a gross and vast understatement. It was that ‘little kiss’ that ignited the flame between he and David Shepherd, fanning the impending romance into a virtual raging inferno. He felt a warmth begin in the nape of his neck, and could sense it spreading. He would hate for Aron to walk out there and see the flush of scarlet in his brother’s neck and cheeks. He’d never hear the end of it.
“Plus,” Elisabet continued. “Your mother told me that you were seeing someone.”
To this bit of news, Kristjan closed his eyes and felt the color of his slight embarrassment recede and be replaced by a slim sense of annoyance. He shook his head and opened his eyes, stating “She had no right…”
“She had every right, sweetheart.” Elisabet interrupted him before he could lose any semblance of composure and say something, anything, that he might regret. She continued, “She is your mother, after all. And you called me your ‘second mom’ a few times.”
“I meant it.” And truthfully, he did mean it. His mom Eva was the number one woman in his life, but as the mother of his beloved Jökull, she was practically adopted by him as a second mother figure.
Elisabet said, “Then you should be aware that your mother and I talk - frequently I might add. The subject of this David was bound to come up.”
“You’re not upset?” He asked, his brows knitted into a frown that betrayed his concern.
“Upset about what, exactly?” She smiled sadly. “That you met someone that makes you happy? Kristjan, did you seriously expect that Han-Jae and I expected you to remain alone for the rest of your life out of loyalty to Jökull?”
To this, he had no real answer. He found himself looking in every direction but where he should have had his attention focused solely on; her. All he could do to answer her sentimental question was to shrug his shoulders. He was not a man that was prone to bits of silence. He was the opposite, in fact, but he could not bring himself to admit that – yes. He had half expected Elisabet and her husband to expect that very thing.
Then she said the very thing, the very fear, that was at the heart of all of his insecurity over the given situation that he found himself in, both now as well a few years ago when he had been in another similar spot. She asked, “Do you think Jökull would have wanted you to remain alone?”
Kristjan looked away once again, but this time it was more because of a wounded sense of pride. There was not a single time when Jökull’s name was mentioned where he did not feel the imminent threat of losing control of his emotions. He had lost control of himself only two times before; once when discussing Jökull with Ben Jordan, and when he had finally confided in David about the very same. It was not something he was proud of, it was just the manner of man that he was. And he absolutely and steadfastly refused to shed a tear in front of Elisabet. Because he knew damn well if he lost himself in front of her, then she would do the same. And he had to admit one thing he was not good at was dealing with someone else’s loss of emotion. Something he would perhaps have to find a way around if he wanted to get very much further in life where a relationship was concerned.
All he could do was barely shake his head and utter a half audible, “No.” Before he turned back to look at her through their video chat and admit a little louder, “He would not.”
“And neither do we.” She replied as calmly as possible, referencing both herself as well as speaking for her husband. Her eyes shimmered with glistening tears that threatened to spill over, but she fought to restrain them as she smiled, telling the man that was as good as a son, “It tells us, and tells Jökull up in Heaven, that you’re moving on — finally.” That ‘finally’ hit like a knife wound to the gut, as he knew full well that Jökull’s memory was behind much of the emotional trauma that he had experienced in life. Would that trauma ever fade away into non-existence? Probably not, but the fact that he was moving on, as it were, was evidence enough that there was something about David Shepherd that at least made everything better. Enough so that he wanted Elisabet and Han-Jae to meet… wait. Did he…?
Elisabet asked, bringing him out of his self-imposed thoughts, asking him, “Now, I do have to ask. Why is David coming with you? Not that we mind, but it is curious considering the hurdles he might have to go through coming here.”
“I’m not altogether sure.” Kristjan smirked, a soft scoff barely audible under his breath. He gave it a moment's thought, then considered, “I think it’s mostly to support me. I told him about Jökull - and about you. I also think… he’s doing it partly for himself.”
Elisabet frowned, not quite understanding what exactly that was supposed to mean. Sensing this, he shrugged and explained as gently as he could, “He knows about Jökull. We had ‘that talk’ recently. I think… at least a part of him wants to come here to prove to himself he’s not fighting a ghost.”
Kristjan winced openly, then quickly amended, “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Elisabet assured him. “I know what you meant. So…” She picked up the phone on her end of the call and walked around the home she lived in for the last twenty years with her husband, before Jökull had ever been welcomed into this world. She sat on the tanned, plush sofa and Kristjan was startled to see that her husband Han-Jae was already sitting there. She set the tablet down carefully so that she and her husband could both see Kristjan, and he them.
She crossed her legs and took Han-Jae’s hand into her own and gave it a light squeeze before she said, “So… tell us all about this David.”
Han-Jae added with a slight frown to his smooth, Asian features, “He’s not like that Ty West boy, is he?”
“No.” Kristjan couldn’t help but smile as he shook his head in the negative. “They are as different as night and day. Ty was… I guess you might say a bandage on an old wound. David is… more.” He lifted his eyes and looked at them directly, adding, “A lot more.”
There was a shared look between the husband and wife on the other end of this call, and then they turned back to him. Han-Jae nodded, his face impassive, as Elisabet smiled once more, more genuine than before. She said, “Well then! Tell us all about him.”
Reykjavík, Iceland - December 21
Kristjan glanced over from his seat in First Class, on board the Icelandair flight from Las Vegas to his hometown of Reykjavík. Beside him, David Shepherd had fallen asleep the moment they had lifted off from their layover in Seattle, Washington and the rest of the flight would be non-stop. The weather, despite the time of year, was unseasonably smooth with little turbulence, allowing David, who had admittedly grown nervous about going to Reykjavík even though it had been his idea entirely to accompany his man. Whether it was because he would be meeting the parents of Jokull, or that he would be this close to Kristjan’s own family whom he was most definitely not ready to meet, that was the ultimate question. For now, the time change between the United States and Iceland had grown too much for David and sleep overtook him, leaving Kristjan to his own thoughts.
How could he describe this man sitting beside him? The fact alone that he wanted to come with him, to be there for him, that alone spoke more about David’s depth of character than any other words might. Even if David would try to hide the fact away.
Kristjan finally tore his eyes away from David’s sleeping form and looked out from his window seat to the skyline that the jet was now descending toward. Soon enough, the lights of Keflavik Airport, along with the rest of Reykjavík, would slowly come into view as the sun would be setting right about now. And the closer those lights came into view as the clouds broke apart and the cold rain started to pelt the jet, the tighter the knots in his own stomach twisted…
“Fuck’s sake!” David shuddered as the two men had stepped outside of the airport with their luggage being trailed behind them, en route to the taxi that was awaiting them in the receiving bay of the airport. David had worn a tanned jacket lined with wool, taking his boyfriend’s advice that he might want to dress more warmly than he was perhaps accustomed to. David had indeed taken heed to Kristjan’s warning, because the fact was he had never before been to Iceland, but as Ben Jordan himself discovered; it earned its name for a reason.
“What are you complaining about?” Kristjan jeered, teasingly so, as they walked along the pavement outside of the doors, Kristjan already spotting the cab that he had called ahead to reserve for the two of them. The driver waited, his eyes glued to the newspaper held out in front of him. Kristjan went on, claiming, “It’s not that bad.”
“Easy for you to say!” David exclaimed, wishing he had considered taking his boyfriend’s warning seriously enough to pack some gloves but no. How bad could it be, really? He had thought to himself and was now kicking himself for not having done so. David hefted his luggage behind him with one arm while huddling his other closer to his upper body to try to at least stay off the bitter chill somewhat better. He added, “It’s colder than Santa Claus’ butt plug!” Causing a snort of subdued laughter to come from the man walking beside him.
David added, “You’d think it’d be warmer in what’s basically a god damned giant volcano!”
“Oh bitch, bitch, bitch!” Kristjan scoffed. “That’s all you ever are!”
“Hey!” David called sharply, using his free hand to slap his man hard on the ass, unsure which one of them enjoyed such an action more.
Getting through international customs, especially for David, was a trying spot. They both had to show their Covid test cards as well as take an additional test right there and then as they were coming from not just the United States, but an area of the country whose numbers were rising rapidly. After showing their cards, proof of vaccination and their tests returning negative, both Kristjan and David went on their way.
And now here they were, riding in the back seat of the taxi as they were being driven from the airport. As this was David’s first time in this country, he was seeing firsthand why in Iceland, Christmas, or Yule, was such a major holiday. It would seem that they took this special day of days even more seriously here than they did back in the United States. There were Christmas lights, literally everywhere as far as the eye could see. Wrapped around lamp posts and stores and government buildings in the city square. David was practically mesmerized by the grandeur of it all, having seen little to nothing like it before in his living memory. He then felt a judge on his shoulder.
He turned and Kristjan directed his attention out toward the main square of Reykjavík, where a giant structure shaped like a cat on the prowl and adorned with bright, white Christmas lights, and had people by the multitudes gathered around it.
David found himself smiling at such a thing as Kristjan said from his seat, “The Reykjavík Christmas Cat. Means to us what your Christmas tree in D.C. means to you. A part of our Yule folklore.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it.” David said, more of a given statement than a formal request. David’s eyes followed the historical landmark as they passed by it with his eyes, his head fully turning along in order to do so. Kristjan, from his own seat, shook his head.
“I don’t think I can do the fable justice.” He said humbly. Shocking, isn’t it? “I’ll ask Elisbet to tell it to you. She would do a much better job than I would.” Earning him a concerned look from David, although David tried without success to hide it away from him. He did not want Kristjan to know just how concerned this decision had made him in the long run.
And once the city was behind them and they were en route to the more suburban areas of the city behind them, there were lights in and around the houses. Lights around the exteriors and in the windows, and the windows of the homes whose drapes were not drawn, David noted glorious displays inside as they passed, Christmas trees and more. He was probably wrong, but he could swear he did not see a single home as they traveled that did not have some sort of holiday display up for the world to see and appreciate.
Then, David noticed that the taxi was slowing to a crawl and finally came to a halt outside of a particular house. David looked around briefly in confusion. It was a quaint and comfortable looking two story house built in the same style just about every other house he saw in Reykjavík was built in. He had a hard time trying to think of the differences between the house build styles between America and here, but there was a definite difference between them. This house? It was white with an olive green time, and the lamp post on the street outside illuminated it as the sun had continued to set on the skyline above them. There was a single tree in the front yard, and although it did not have the amount of Yule decorations about it that so many other houses he had seen had, still; it had some.
“Kristjan?” David’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline as the cab driver stepped outside of the vehicle to retrieve their luggage from the trunk. “What is going on? I thought we were taking my things to my hotel before we came here?”
Kristjan stepped out of the taxi, and that left David little alternative but to follow suit. As their luggage was set aside on the curb where it was relatively dry, Kristjan had proceeded to fish out his wallet so that he might pay for their shared ride and tip the driver handsomely; an act that wasn’t expected or customary, but was always appreciated.
Kristjan flashed David a look and shook his head as the driver handed him his card for the return drive, and then proceeded to get into his vehicle and drive off. David then felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he looked at first his luggage, and then to Kristjan himself who said, “Why? So you can claim to be tired and send me here on my own without you meeting Elisabet and her husband?” That plan had been decided even before they left Las Vegas. It would be distasteful for David to even consider staying in the same house, so while Kristjan did just that, David would be in a nearby hotel overnight.
Kristjan cocked his head to the side and David felt the heat of the dawning realization coming to the forefront of his mind. He shook his head and muttered, “Esther…” Causing Kristjan to smirk that smirk of is and shake his head.
He quipped, “You didn’t think she wouldn’t tell me about that thought that ran through your head, did you?” David frowned quite brazenly, and Kristjan exhaled sharply through his nose and said, “It’s just a visit! They want to meet you! The cab will be back to take you to your hotel after!”
He then turned aside and grabbed his luggage and headed for the house, leaving David to close his eyes briefly before he blew out a suppressed breath through his pursed lips and he grabbed his own luggage to follow. The two men walked around the path to the side of the house and up the three steps and onto the porch. The light above the front door was already on, but before Kristjan could set his luggage down to knock, the front door opened, and Elisabet, mother of Jökull, stepped outside and onto the porch. Kristjan’s description of her to David did not do this woman justice as far as her lovely appearance and strength of character might go. Before either man could speak a word, Elisabet enveloped Kristjan in her arms and held him tight. It was a sight that made David's own heart ache with a longing.
The love this woman had for this man he had found in his life was all-too evident on her face, and he his own in return. Their embrace slowly came to an end and they separated, but not before she took Kristjan’s face in her hands and she simply gazed upon him in what had to be the love of a mother’s smile. She then finally let go, and turned to David. And before David could react, he found her arms suddenly wrapped around him.
With a hard look over her shoulder from Kristjan, David returned the hug, albeit somewhat awkwardly. Elisabet then let go of him and took a step back, but her smile remained as she ran the fingers of her left hand down David’s cheek. She then stepped back to the door and held it open, beckoning with a wave of her hand and a warm smile to boot.
“Come.” She said in invitation, and David felt little choice but to grab his luggage for the time being and graciously accept; Kristjan following behind. Only then did Elisabet step back into her house and the door closed behind them.
The Fossvog Cemetery - December 22
This – this was the whole reason why David had come to Iceland. The visit with Elisabet and her husband the night before had gone better than David had believed possible. Both had done their very best to make David as comfortable as they were able, not allowing him to sit in silence at their table as they had taken the liberty to have dinner ready for the two men, assuming they would arrive hungry. To be welcomed by the parents of his boyfriend’s deceased lover, by his parents no less… hell! To be treated so well and so warmly - to be accepted… It was so much an alien concept to the young Shepherd given the trying times of his own upbringing and abuse suffered at the hands of those who were supposed to love and protect him.
Thus David’s sense of dread had somewhat eased as he had been brought to the house again for the morning meal - Elisabet’s idea - and then to the most difficult task at hand. The reason behind the visit. David can not recall ever seeing Kristjan in such finery, but there he stood in a perfectly tailored, light gray suit that was almost white in color. He was more used to seeing him in casual clothes (or nothing at all which was his personal preference), but the sight of his man in a suit? It was not something he objected to, if truth were to be told. David stayed behind on the path, his choice but one that Kristjan had agreed with because this was his personal penance, and he would not have anyone else ease his burden. Elisabet and Han-Jae had already paid a visit to their son’s grave yesterday, and he was told they would most likely be doing so again this evening after the evening meal. (Of which David was also invited to!) In Kristjan’s hands, he carried uncharacteristically a bouquet composed of orchids and chrysanthemums. He had been told beforehand that Jökull would have gotten quite the laugh out of this action, as he had as much love for flowers as Kristjan did himself.
And Kristjan? The closer the time came for their visit to the cemetery, the more apprehensive he became where David was concerned. This was something that he always did himself. Not even Jökull’s parents went with him because out of respect, they knew he would visit Jökull alone. Plus, it was a matter of some semblance of pride. He knew what this visit did to him every year, and to show another his weakness…
David could not help but notice and admire the small tree that had been planted on this boy’s grave to commemorate his life. It was a custom, Kristjan had explained to him when they had arrived. He watched as Kristjan approached the simple but tasteful marker that stood above ground. Kristjan stood there, flowers in hand, gazing down at the marker that read…
“Jökull Kae -- 04/09/1992 - 10/11/2009,”
And he watched as this man that had forced his way into both his life as well as his heart, slowly sank to his knees.
TBC….
Las Vegas, Nevada - Turnberry Towers
Current
“Saviors, hm?”
Fenris snorted back a derisive laugh at the ill moniker that the newest stable of Sin City Wrestling had only in recent times had coined themselves with. He stood outside on the patio of his home, basking in the chilled air that the famed City of Sin was now affording him. It was still day, as dusk had not yet begun its descent into night. But the sky was still overcast with gray clouds with the sun barely able to show itself from behind. His arms were folded over his chest, a glass of honey-infused Scotch in one hand as he shook his head.
“A rather pompous name at promoting yourselves, wouldn't you say? What is that? Some sad, schoolyard attempt at vilifying yourself and building yourselves up collectively to be more than you actually are? You are aware of the basic definition of a savior, yes?”
Fenris closed his eyes and held up the hand holding his drink in it, fingers extended for emphasis.
“That was a rhetorical question, in case you were too dense to understand. A savior is someone who saves someone or something specifically, usually our country or some kind of charitable cause, from a specific danger….”So tell me something, Supreme Machine…” He spoke the name with an obviously sarcastic use of ‘air quotes’ behind his tone of voice. “Who exactly are you saving, and from what are you saving them from? No! Let me guess. You are out to save us as well as Sin City Wrestling as whole - from ourselves? Hm?”
He popped open an eye and waved his hand with the glass.
“Am I close? Am I at the very least getting warm? Oh, before I forget… Another definition of a Savior is the fact that they are regarded with the veneration of a religious figure. You know, notable religious figures such as Jesus Christ or Mother Teresa. But you know that can't be because even your group would not be so arrogant to put yourselves in such a light. Now I admit that I am as arrogant as the next man out there, and if you don’t believe me, ask just about anyone I know!~ But even I would not be so sacrilegious as to compare myself to the Son of God or at the very least, one of the most revered saints of any religious faith! But all of you…?”
He paused to take a drink, savoring the burning feel of the scotch coursing down the back of his throat.
“Well I can’t deny that you are doing all you can to put your names out there. I also can’t deny the fact that you’ve made a bigger impact than anyone thought capable in recent memory. But the thing is, I’m not altogether certain whether that’s a good thing or not. Oh it’s certainly not a good thing that your little group has worked overtime in making enemies for itself and believing yourselves either invulnerable or immune to the certain consequences of your actions. But as a whole…?”
He paused and took another drink before setting the glass down onto the table he stood beside.
“I admit I was curious when Mac made your team known. I can’t recall in my short time in SCW any real stable of note save for London Underground and Wolfslair, and let’s face it…”
He gazed quickly into the camera with a wolfish smile and shook his head.
“You are neither.”
He turned back away to look out into the city to continue his train of thought.
“Gabriel told me all about a time in SCW when there were stables a plenty. The Seven Deadly Sins chief amongst them. The Fallen. Teams of men and women that made an impact but did so without having to resort to the same cheap theatrics and sneak attacks that your team does. Do you know what that makes you…?”
“A carbon copy of every other group that wants to play the numbers game in order to prove their own superiority. Now, Mac Bane is the reigning World Heavyweight Champion. I will give him that - and ONLY him. Mac is a man that I have fought before and he has earned my respect. But you, SuMa? Dominick Strife… ‘Godly’...” He rolled his eyes. “Ken Davison?”
He scoffed quite audibly as you could practically feel him rolling his eyes.
“You’re like a pack of Boy Scouts following your adult leader, ready and willing to do whatever you say in order to impress your own self-entitled importance upon the world! Bottom line, Supreme Machine: This little family that you have surrounded yourself with? Aside from Mac, there is not a single special thing about ANNNY of you! If there were, if you were all as special and as mighty as you would have us believe, then you would not have felt the need to go out there with a numbers advantage and decimate so many men who crossed your paths! A man that bested you? Attack him. A team that got one up on you and derailed your fast track to success? Send them to the hospital! Weeks ago, in our final confrontation, you PROVED yourselves to be over hyped because when you no longer had the numbers advantage, you were no longer all that you wanted us to believe. You were beaten and sent packing! Tails tucked between your legs! Oh… speaking of which…”
Fenris walked over to the railing and gripped the metal with his hands, wrapping his fingers around the metal until his knuckles turned practically white from the pressure.
“Something else happened that day. Something that pretty much sealed your fate to the point even the sacred Norn tore your page from their Book, crumpled it up and tossed it back over their collective shoulders and screamed ‘why bother?’! Do you know what you did that you never, EVER should have done, you big dumb BITCH!? You…”
He held up a single finger.
“... Put your hands on my brother. And when I was down, of all the people who could have come to his aid specifically, was the one who did the same over a year ago; Austin James Mercer. Vinnie, Bulldog and Alex? They took care of your bitch buddies, but you? I was down at the moment but Austin outclassed you in one, fluid move. He not only saved Aron, but he saved your ass as well.”
Fenris looked to the camera and nodded, reaching over to pick up his glass again.
“Because if you had hit that move, if you had choke slammed and done my baby brother any damage at all, I wouldn’t just beat you in Reno on the 23rd. I’d have to had fucking BURIED you! So it is time I did my part for charity and give you a reality check ahead of schedule.”
“SuMa, teams like yours are a dime a dozen. You talk big but you’re just a sad little group of children thrown together because alone, they are unable to fend for themselves. I have no fucking clue where Dominick has been. Not my business and I don’t care, really. The only reason Ken Davison is challenging for the Internet title is because he lucked out and I can only pray to Baldur that Agostino pulverizes the little shit! Mac is the only one of you worth anything, but you, SuMa? Last I saw you in the ring, you got your dumb ass disqualified because David outsmarted you!”
“Granted, outsmarting you is about as difficult as beating a pig in a game of chess, but you get my point. The only one that is worth a damn out of any of you is Mac Bane, and thus far he has had the smarts and respect to keep himself as far away from your bullshit with me and my family as possible. But that is beside the point. I’m not coming to Reno to outsmart you.”
He held his hands up, palms out, and smiled as he shook his head ‘no.’
“No. I’m simply coming out to that ring to fuck you up! Now you can go on and bullshit all you like, thinking that just because you have the size edge over me, that it means something - anything - once that bell rings!? HA! Last time I checked, I was no heavyweight! Look at me, bitch! I’m 204 pounds! 92 kilograms! There is barely a time I get inside of that ring where I am not at a size disadvantage but do you know something? When has that ever stopped me? How many damn times have I taken that assumption and shoved it down the throats of the men who think that! The biggest men I have ever been up against - Austin James Mercer and Casey Williams! Austin is and would always be your better, and Casey? The man is seven feet and over four hundred pounds, so he’s sure as shit bigger! Why don’t you ask him what it felt like when little ol’ me dumped him on his head with a German suplex!?”
“Yeah, me! I know I can take you, SuMa! I know I have to! I can, and will, pick you apart until there isn’t enough left for the ring crew to sweep your sorry ass self up with a Hoover and blow you back to wherever it is that you’re from! I might just tie you up into such a tight knot and stuff you into a package and gift you back to your precious Saviors, if for no other reason than to sit back and enjoy watching how long it takes for them to untie you!”
“So far SuMa, your greatest weapon against your opponents has been the fear factor. Your size, that ugly mug of yours hidden behind an even uglier mask. All of that?”
He spread his arms wide.
“None of that means shit to me because I’m not afraid of you! There are many men in my time in the ring that have earned my respect but not a single one of them has ever instilled in me even the smallest semblance of fear! Despite what you and yours want everyone to believe, your size is nothing but your biggest detriment! Grated you are strong as fuck, but the biggest men also have the weakest pressure points throughout their body and I can not wait to exploit each and every one of yours! The only problem I have going into this match is choices. Whether to knock your ass out, or put you through hell and make you BEG the official to end the pain! And even then I can not promise anything. I can’t guarantee anyone that I will stop. Ask Mercer. Go back and do your homework, SuMa, and find out the lengths I’ll go through to any man stupid enough to touch my brother! It wasn’t pretty, by even my standards, but it was fun!”
Taking a drink, and a pause to collect himself, Fenris looked out over the sky that had by now darkened into a canvas of dark blues, pinks and oranges while the lights of the city reigned supreme.
“Almost as much fun as it will be with you."
(https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dRUhMCpJ2tk/XySvizugTyI/AAAAAAAAOCE/a2_ILifRgrEHVde8m8pcVNr5JgPvRsipwCNcBGAsYHQ/s480/Palm%2BSlaps%2Bto%2BThe%2BHead.gif)
“You are going to have to forgive me for this change in my usual curriculum.”
The voice of Fenris cuts across as we find the aforementioned “White Wolf'' standing at the very base of Hvannadals Peak, the tallest mountain in the capital city of Iceland, standing at well over 6,952 feet. He stands atop a rocky outcropping in the base slope, eyes staring up into the Icelandic heavens, his chin resting atop the curled fingers of his left hand. As if in deep thought or contemplation.
“This is not usually how I do things.” He shook his head. “Like most others, I make certain to bring things to a close, with business overshadowing pleasure. I do not normally go in for these fanciful promos, preferring to get straight to business. But you know… when inspiration strikes, why fight against it?”
“When someone thinks of monsters, they think your typical Hollywood bullshit. Godzilla. Werewolves and vampires- before they sparkled more than your average drag queen. Frankenstein and his Bride… you know. The usual bullshit. But out in the world around us, in history there were beasts that inspired true fear. The fear that made even the bravest of men feel the stab of ice in their chest.
“In Greece, there was a time when the people dreaded the thought of the harpies spreading disease, manticores and the dreaded gaze of the Gorgons that would turn men to stone. In Scotland they have the Loch Ness. Canada has Ogopogo. Hell! Even North America has Champ, the Chupacabra and Bigfoot! But here’s a little something to chew on; we have our own “monsters” - right here in Iceland. Why do you think I’m here, in particular?”
He points straight up.
“See, even here in Iceland we have our own beasts of lore. Take the Huldufólk as an example. ‘The Hidden People’ we call them. You might think of them as elves that weren’t just mean or evil; they were fucking malevolent! I can remember when my brother and sisters were still kids, our grandfather would take us on hikes and anytime we were near this peak or the Katla volcano, he would give daft warnings not to throw rocks, warning us of the consequences of striking one of the Hidden Ones. So feared are the Huldufólk that road construction had to be diverted around an outcropping of rock in Kopavogur, citing warnings of damaging the home of the Huldufólk. Of course, the Icelandic Administration denied this being the reason. After all…”
He paused to stare into the camera.
“Who believes in monsters?”
Next, we would find Fenris standing in the vicinity of Lake Mývatn, standing in front of a rocky outcropping of lava that stretched as far across the horizon as the eye could see, and was formed over 2,000 years ago.
“Dimmuborgir, or the Black Fortress. It was here that another monster of Iceland resided, calling it her home. Some thought Gryla as the ‘Queen of Icelandic Monsters.’ A fearless female troll that was mother of the Yule Lads, twelve evil versions of Santa Clause. It was said that Gryla would disguise herself as a beggar, and move from town to town, begging parents to surrender their disobedient children. A dark omen, and a useful tool for parents even to this day to corral a misbehaving child. When we were little, my own mother would use Gryla as a means to end the never-ending fighting between my sisters and I. Granted, it worked better on my sisters, as I did not believe in monsters. But…”
He thought for a moment and shrugged.
“Brave as I was, even I did not want to risk a kernel of truth and be handed over to the Mother of All.
Fenris was now walking alongside a country road in his hometown, away from the heart of the city and more to the countryside. Homesteads were few and far between. Trees were everywhere on the rocky land, and off in the distance was Lake Raudavatn. Hands tucked in his jacket pockets, he spoke as he walked.
“I love my country, but even it has its dark and grisly side in mythology.”
A neighing sound alerted him, and he glanced up at a horse in the distance, closer to the edge of Lake Raudavatn. His eyes locked onto the horse and watched it, speaking as he did so.
“One of the darker stories has something similar to Celtic mythology; the Kelpie. Here, we call it the Nykur. This – thing, will come to you as a weary traveler. Tempt you to ride its back to ease your travels. And once you do, you’ll find yourself unable to dismount. It will ride into the nearest body and water where it will drown you.”
At long last, Fenris now stood in the town square of his very own hometown of Reykjavik, amidst the scattered few number of tourists milling about while the locals went about their business. Before him stood one of the most important local monuments of Icelandic culture, and one of whom he shared only too recently with David Shepherd. He gazed up at the enormous sculpture, a genuine smile, a thing most rare where he was concerned, worn on his face.
“Now this – this has always been my favorite of Icelandic lore. I am not a cat person by any stretch of the imagination, but there is something absolutely primitive about the Yule Cat. Ironic, given this time of year, as the Yule Cat was a demonic feline, giant in stature, that would prowl all of Iceland around Yule, on the hunt for any child that was unlucky enough to not receive clothing as a gift for Christmas. Want a Playstation 5? Fine! Want the latest sports equipment? Your parents will do their best; but to those children of my country who receive gloves, socks and scarves as gifts? There were reasons to this day, and none stupid enough to complain.”
“Now… you are probably wondering where am I going with this? What is my point? When am I going to stop talking about this monster bullshit and get to the actual point of my match this coming weekend?”
He spun about quickly with arms held outward and a manic smile on his face.
“There, you see! That IS my point! Ever since he first set foot in SCW, SuMa has been treated with awe and fear! He has been described more as a monster than as a man! A beast among men, if anything! But now this is no Grimm Fairytale. This is no ridiculous bullshit story of a knight in shining armor off to rescue a princess from a dragon. This is real. This. Is. Life! And, I have news for every one of you out there, watching me.”
He took several steps forward, quickly on his feet until his face filled the camera.
“Monsters are not real. Men – they are real. And I am afraid of no man!”
Previously…
It seemed an eternity until he found his voice, having stared unendingly at the ornately carved marker that honored his first love, a young boy who had died tragically years before his time. A boy whose death Kristjan placed blame squarely on his own shoulders ever since. He shifted from where he sat before the marker, legs crossed, but it was for naught. Comfort was not to be had, be it physical or emotional.
Kristjan shook his head, his blue eyes on the memorial. “I've been coming here for ten years, and I never know what to say to you.” A soft chuckle escaped from him, and he felt the salty sting in his eyes that he struggled to control. He went on, “Why do I get the feeling that if our roles were reversed, you'd know just what to say?”
“This time….” He drew in a deep breath. He looked down briefly before he looked to the marker, and to his mind’s eye, to Jokull himself. “I brought someone with me. I think you would have liked him.” He drew in a deep breath that shuddered only slightly, betraying the emotion that has, as of yet, been unable to betray him and break from the self-imposed barriers. He let the breath out and looked ahead, finally admitting, “Because I do, Jokull. I like him - a lot. The fact that he wanted to come here, now? To be here for me? I know I talk big and tell people I don’t need anyone to be there for me, and I have to handle this alone. But he actually wanted to come with me – it meant a lot. And spoke volumes about him. Your mom met him. She liked him, I think. I think a part of him wanted to come up here with me, but he’s back there.”
He jetted a thumb back toward David subconsciously, an action David caught from the corner of his eye as he waited.
“But he wanted me to have this time with you, alone.” He nodded solemnly. “He’s a good man.”
Kristjan seemed lost, unsure of how to proceed. He found himself looking everywhere suddenly but at the grave marker, as if he had a sense of guilt behind his admission. But he had to say it, he had to get past this one hurdle.
He said, “His name is David, but I imagine you already knew this. I’ve always felt like you were keeping an eye on me from ‘up there.’” He chuckled. “It’s funny. When we were kids, I would have gone to the ends of the earth to watch over and protect you, but now that you’re gone? I know – I know – that you’re doing the same thing for me. For all I know… you sent David to me so that I could be happy.” He gave the marker a side-eye and a bit of a rueful smile. “I could have done without that Ty West test run.”
“I just – I have felt guilty every time I think I met someone. Every. Time. But, your mom is right. I can’t begin to think you’d have wanted me to be alone and bitter. I’m bitter enough even when I’m with someone.”
It amazed him the level of patience that David gave him.
“Your mom and I had a long talk last night. She told me that I don’t have to make this trip every year, but I do. And I think she appreciates it. I know she does. But I’m not just doing this for me, or for me.”
He finally could not hold it back any longer, and the first of many tears slid from his eyes and down his cheeks, pooling at the defined cleft in his chin.
“I’m doing it for you. Whether I am with someone or not, I don’t want you to ever think I could replace you. I love you, Jokull. I always have, and I always will.”
Finally, Kristjan closed his eyes and recited from memory a prayer he instilled in both body and soul.
“O son of ever-watchful Odin, Balder, best of gods,
I call to you with an open heart, I pray to you
with open eyes. Son of fair Frigga who sought your safekeeping,
who gathered up pledges like flowers in spring,
who begged for salt tears throughout the worlds,
a mother’s love wielded with skill, yet in vain.
Balder, most beautiful, bright-shining god,
there are no words to tell of your glory,
there is no being who burns with your fire. Yours is a tale
of many turns, of what must be and of what must end,
of well-plotted plans and of ill become good.
O Balder who dwells among the dead, holder
of your father’s secrets, hidden hope of all that is,
I honor your story, I honor your might, I honor the worlds
in which you walk. Hail to good Balder, great god of the light!”
Seems strange? Perhaps for any save for those closest to him. Kristjan was what was known as “Asatro,” one of those in the Icelandic culture that practiced the worship of the Norse gods; Baldur. Somehow it seemed terribly appropriate that his patron be the ‘Fallen God,’ given the circumstances surrounding his life.
He reached forward to the bundle of flowers and set them up right against the headstone before finally pushing himself up to a standing position. Seeing this, David stood up right from against the tree he had been standing against. Kristjan closed his eyes and rested his fingers on the marble stone and whispered, “Blessaður sé.” (“Blessed be.”) He then quickly wiped his eyes with the arm of his sleeve and turned to walk back to David who stood upright to meet him.
Neither man said a word. They didn’t have to. David simply and silently slid his arm around his man’s waist and they walked toward the rental…
The very same rental Kristjan watched drive away in a hasty retreat. Stunned. Shocked. Confused. Three words that best describe the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm Kristjan as he watched the car’s lights vanish in the distance. He gave pause and looked around and then down, at the luggage that had fallen over at his feet as David had made his getaway from the very forefront of his family home.
Without thought, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. A flick of his thumb, he pressed the speed dial and held it to his ear. The ring tone went on … and on … but nobody picked up. It didn’t even go to voicemail. He then changed tactics and went to his list of contacts, and dialed a specific one deliberately. After a few rings, the line was picked up and…
“This had better be good!” Came the voice of David’s sister, Esther. A young woman who had fast reminded Kristjan of his two older sisters.
Kristjan drew in a deep breath, and answered, “When you see your brother, tell him he’s a fucking asshole!”
“Kristjan?”
“Who else!?”
“Oh for… did you two fight - again!?” She asked with no small trace of sarcasm. “What happened? You not make it to the point of angry man sex-”
“He fucking just ditched me, Esther!”
“... What are you talking about?”
“We just arrived at my family’s house and no sooner did I get my luggage out of the car than he jumped in and took off!”
“Relax.” She said. “Maybe he just went back to the hotel…”
“And turned off his phone? And voice mail???”
“Okay, I stand corrected. But just take it easy. He probably just got a little spooked. Meeting your family was probably moving too fast for his…”
“Too FAST!?” Kristjan bellowed into the phone. “Esther, I just stopped him from buying us a matching set of rings!”
“... Beg pardon?”
“Never mind!” Kristjan shook his head, wanting to just crawl into a hole and hide. “Just… do me a favor. Tell your brother. I’ve had men make me angry, make me hurt… David is the first one to ever humiliate me.”
“Kristjan…” But before Esther could say anything further, Kristjan ended the call with a click and he THREW the phone as hard as he could against a frozen tree in the yard of his family home, shattering it!
“Kristjan?” The voice caused him to turn around, and his father, Benedikt, had stepped out the front door and was approaching him - having seen his outburst and loss of temper. True, as his dad he had been privy to many times over the years at a loss of temper, but this was different.
Benedikt walked up to his son’s side and Kristjan deftly turned his head away, so that his pained, blue eyes could stare off into the direction David had left. Benedikt looked off into the same direction, before looking to his son.
He asked, “Where’s David?”
Kristjan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Gone.”
This cryptic answer caused Benedikt to frown and he was about to question him further, but Kristjan opened his eyes and focused them directly on the man who had been his hero for near thirty years.
“He’s gone … Dad.”
Benedikt looked into his son’s eyes, and understood. Then, nothing further need be said. He simply leaned down to help Kristjan gather his luggage before they went back inside….
Las Vegas, Nevada -
December 24
Time jumps. Funny little things. Tricky, but overall more useful than one might realize in the telling of a tale. Because while we could have spent an endless amount of time regaling you with little anecdotes of what went down between Fenris and the members of his family as they ventured from their native Iceland to America so that they might all spend the holidays together, there was little time to waste so let’s instead skip ahead in our look back to Yule of 2021, and get to the heart of the matter, shall we?
The Baltasarsson brothers’ condo looked much the same as last time we visited this masterpiece of a winter wonderland, courtesy of Danielle Weston, the brothers’ adopted little sister. If anything, it looked even more elaborate than previously seen, as if Aron and Danielle took advantage of Kristjan’s absence to put up even more elaborate decor to welcome both friends and family in what has fast become something of a tradition for this family. The brothers knew full well that their mother would do as she always did, and invite all of their friends to a dinner party where her culinary talents might reign supreme, but this time they beat her to the proverbial punch. Kristjan had already invited everyone, and while he was away, Aron had secured the services of a local caterer much in demand so that their mom would not have to lift a finger. It was her holiday to enjoy too.
And the guest list was extensive, everyone was there that one might imagine; from the Stevens family to fellow trainees of the GO Gym. From London Underground to Bobbie Dahl and Artie. . .
Kristjan realized he should be more grateful for everything that Baldur had blessed him with, had blessed his family with, but still he found it rather difficult. While it was true that he was currently surrounded by both friends and family, he still felt that there was something missing. And that something - or someone, rather, was … well, you know exactly who is being referred to.
“Here.” Eva said as Kristjan was about to take a seat next to Bobbie and Artie on the prominent, white plush sofa at the forefront of the condo’s main living area, holding out a platter of hors d'oeuvres that the guests had picked clean. “Take this into the kitchen so we can keep things clean.”
Taking his seat, Kristjan raised his brow to his mother and professed, “But it’s my party.”
“And you’re my son.” Eva said, brooking no argument from her middle child and oldest son, shoving the platter into his hands without argument. “Now move.” She said. Kristjan exchanged a look with Bobbie and Artie, Bobbie wearing a wry grin on her face as he stood up and was about to do as he was told/commanded, when the doorbell rang. Or at least, what he used to be his doorbell. It had been deftly replaced from the typical chimes to the tell-tale sounds of Santa’s jolly laugh.
Slowly Kristjan turned to look across the condo to Danielle whose eyes widened under his stare and she somehow made fading into the crowd of guests seem flawless. Kristjan turned to set the tray down so that he might answer his door, but Eva held up a hand, forestalling him. She pointed toward the kitchen with a commanding tone, saying, “Go. I’ll answer that.”
Without waiting to see if her boy would listen, as she knew he would, Eva walked across the floor of the condo’s living area aka “party central,” and toward the front door. Grasping the door handle, she opened the door with a pleasant, expectant expression on her face, but for whom she saw standing there, that expression changed first to a wariness, and then to that of a mother bear. Her brow furrowed and lips pressed thin as she stared straight at the man who had only recently hurt her son, David Shepherd - and his sister Esther.
Perhaps had he been the sort to pay more attention to his surroundings, Kristjan might have noticed that much of the chatter at the party had slowly subsided. Oh people were still talking in conversation, enjoying the festivities and one another's company, but there was a sudden tenseness that had suddenly filled the air and it could not be ignored. But Kristjan seemed to lose himself when he was in his own home, comfortably surrounded by loved ones, that he did not notice. He took advantage of being in the small kitchen to open the fridge and retrieve for himself another beer (much to Eva’s distaste). He turned around, twisting the cap off and was about to take a long and satisfying pull from the bottle, when he stopped. Eva was standing at the front of the kitchen, wringing her hands in worry and her face was set in stone.
“Someone’s here to see you.” She said in a crisp tone, to which Kristjan replied, “Willow?” Referring to his close friend whom he had also invited but knew the chances were slim as she did live in Seattle where her family resided.
Eva shook her head and said quietly, “Not Willow.” And the movement from the corner of his eye, behind his mother and stepping into view - David. Kristjan’s attempt to take a drink stopped just as suddenly, the bottle of Kaldi Blonde frozen at his lips. He slowly lowered the bottle as David stepped into the kitchen, Eva’s eyes remaining glued straight on him.
“Mom…?” Kristjan finally broke the uncomfortable silence with a hidden intent. Eva turned her head to share a look with her son, and then looked once more at David and she said in a hushed whisper, “Meiddu son minn aftur og ég mun hafa eyrnalokkana þína.” Before she finally took her leave to rejoin the party.
David watched her go for a brief moment, before he turned back to Kristjan who was just watching him without saying a word. His backside leaning against the counter, and arms folded over his sternum with the bottle of Icelandic beer still held up.
“What did she say?” David shook his head as he understood not a single word of Icelandic.
“Pretty much she said if you hurt me again, she’d have your balls for earrings.” Was the simple reply. David’s eyes widened for only a fraction of a second, turning back to look where Eva had left the kitchen before returning his attention to where it most deserved to be. Now Kristjan’s attention was sharp, and she saw the reflexive swallow of David and he shook his head.
“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve just showing up like this after that stunt you pulled!” He said in a monotone voice that hid not just the anger he felt inside, but the hurt as well. Try as he might to deny it, Kristjan was human, and even he could be hurt by someone he cared about. He said, “Ignore calls. Texts. But here you are. Showing up to celebrate Yule like nothing happened.”
He scoffed and took a pull from the bottle in hand, muttering, “You have balls.”
And at that, David had the most difficult time looking at the man who only days ago, he could not tear his eyes off of. For someone who laid claim to being an ‘asshole supreme’ and not caring what anyone thought of him, in this moment, with this man standing across from him, it simply was not true. His hands found themselves deep in his pockets and he asked quietly, “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
To which Kristjan shrugged and answered simply, “Do you see anyone else with us? Talk.” But the helpless, hangdog expression on David’s face and that poorly hidden pain in his eyes gave Kristjan cause to exhale sharply and he set the bottle on the counter and he walked past David, grabbing him by the arm and ushering him from the kitchen. The two stepped out into the living room and ignored the attention that their emergence had received. Friends and family had a habit of not hiding their protective curiosity very well. They stepped just off of the foyer and entered Kristjan’s bedroom, but not before David cast a look over his shoulder and locked eyes with Eva once again from across the condo. She gave him the universal sign for ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ just before the bedroom door was shut behind him.
David turned around as Kristjan walked across his master bedroom, around the bed and he had a seat on the white, cushioned chair in the corner near his desk. “This should be good.” He said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Say what you have to say.”
(See, this is where you should read “Brother” David Shepherd's roleplay)
The Reno Events Center had long been set up in preparation for the SCW Supercard event, the first of 2022; Inception V. Soon enough, the Superstars and Bombshells would kick the new year off in pure masochistic sadism; spilling one another's blood and leaving each other laying, beaten, battered and broken. As SCW crews busied themselves in the otherwise empty arena, performing sound checks and checking the stage lights for any undue mistakes, one man in particular took this time for a brief bit of solitude. So that he might focus himself on what was to come in just over 48 hours. When he, a mortal man, would face off against what could best be described as a man-made monster.
Fenris sat clear at the top of the bleachers, keeping himself as far away from the hustle and bustle of activity below by the entirety of the SCW and Reno Events Center staff and crew.
“Do you know what the difference is between us, SuMa? It's not size. It's not by reputation or fear factor, although there is plenty of both to go around on both sides. It's motivation. What exactly are you doing this for, big man? What is your drive going into this match? To try and maintain your carefully crafted monster image? See, that's the funny thing about creating an image for yourself; in the end, it's just an image. There's no substance behind it. Are you hoping to maintain your standing? Well sorry to break this bit of bad news but you have no standing! Not here, not in SCW! So far since you arrived, you've been little more than the Saviors’ attack bitch - dog! I meant dog. Since you showed up, it's been the same goddam act! Attack random people! Growl and gnash teeth! Okay you did try to add a bit of variety when you scared the piss out of Bea Barnhart, but really in the end, all that did was make you look every bit the girly bitch that I've been saying you are. And all of this? You do it because you can. Because in your own deranged head, it makes you more than you are! You want to walk out of this fight - and it WILL be a fight - being able to tell the world you were one of less than a handful of men who hold a win over me! But you are bullshitting yourself. You laid me out twice, I will give you that. You put me on medical leave, I’ll give you that. But did you stop me? Did you end me?”
He leaned back and shook his head, his eyes emblazoned with feral madness but the corner of his lips turned upward in a trademark smirk that speaks volumes toward his true mindset. Those closest to him, friends and opponents alike, would say this would be the time for concern.
“There is nothing that you can pull out of your relatively small bag of tricks that will keep me down. You could put me down a hundred times over and I will keep getting back up, each and every time! That is what a fighter is, that is what I am! But thinking you’re getting the best of me, you did nothing more than misuse your motivation to hand me my own on a golden platter! That’s right, SuMa. YOU’VE inspired me! You’ve brought the White Wolf out of his den and now he is on the hunt! But you put your hands on my brother, and for that, I’ll put you down once - and that’s it. Because unlike you, I don’t need more than once to put you down and leave you laying, bloody and broken!”
“You’re big, SuMa. I’ll grant you that. A so-called monster. But that’s about the best thing that I can say about you. After all, what does it really say about you when I have half your size, when I haven’t committed half the atrocities that you have, and yet I still have more grown men pissing themselves at the thought of stepping inside of the ring against me!? Now THAT is a reputation to be proud of! THAT is a reputation earned! You can attack every man on this roster a hundred times over and you STILL won’t inspire the same level of fear and anxiety that I have – And I’ve only been competing for nearly four years! You – !”
He jabbed a finger right into the camera.
“Supreme Machine, are all show! Just massive size and strength and nothing else! I’ve been in the world of MMA for years, and here in SCW since 2018 and I’ve earned everything on nothing but my own hard earned skill! I don’t need to play fucking mind games or jump someone from behind to get my point across or prove that I’m the best! I already know I am because I’ve been there! Fastest rising Superstar in SCW history!”
He pointed a thumb toward himself, then turned his hand around and held up four fingers.
“Four months, SuMa. That is all the time it took for me from my debut to Summer XXXTreme VI to win the World Heavyweight Championship! And I stayed unbeaten for almost a full fucking year! I'm sure as shit not about to be laid waste to by some half-assed cliche! Because that’s all you are; a carefully crafted image to make any man think you’re the boogeyman of professional wrestling! But funny thing about an image; it’s all for show. It has no value, no substance.”
He cast a look over his shoulder and toward the camera directly.
“And neither do you. You want me at my best? You hope to have stoked my fire? Well bitch, ask and you shall receive because the fire inside of my soul has been stoked to the point of a raging inferno and you are going to BURN! And this time? This time it is just you and me. No Saviors. No members of GO Gym. No Wolfslair. Just the giant, and a giant slayer.”
Fenris then jumped to his feet and started down the steps of the stands, but paused and looked down briefly, allowing a brief time for his eyes to rise again. To look down toward the six-sided ring where he would soon stand.
“When you had me at my worst, I had men come to my aid, and more importantly, to the aid of my brother. Men whom I am on good terms with, and men whom I have spilled blood against. That … is what I am about, SuMa. That I have enough respect for men the likes of Mercer, Senor Vinnie, Alex Jones and the Bulldog, that they would be there for me, even if they don’t like me. They respect me, and hate you. Your brotherhood in the Saviors? They won’t do shit when I put you out of your misery, because by then you would have shown your true worth, or lack thereof. Because what value does the Saviors’ monster have to the Saviors themselves, when he can’t even put down a 'many mutt'?”
He went about his way, descending the steps as the camera pulled to a close up of the ring before it faded to black.