[Chelsea]

 Ooc: please excuse me using Chelsea's account to post this. I forget the login info for the Twins account and Kris is not around to remind me.

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~Dearly Beloved~
September 25th, 2016
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The old cemetery had a feel of decay in it. All the trees looked twisted with age or disease, as if their roots had tapped into the decomposing bodies that lay beneath them. There are not many people there to mark the passing of a loved one. A small group of twenty. The majority of them are aged seniors all but one are women, wearing frumpy black formal wear and  feathery veiled hats to keep out the light of a late September sun. And Indian summer had swept over the province, making the majority of people over dressed for the unexplainable heatwave. To the right of this group, is the deceased woman’s family. Two women, one with skin so white it is almost transparent and showing her age in the wrinkles on her face. Her makeup is almost too heavily done. She has a comforting arm around a darker skinned woman. Although it's obvious that she is past middle age herself, she looks to be in better shape. Her dark eyes are riddled with dark red veins, a sign that she had been crying, or not sleeping but more than likely a mix of both. On the other side of the fair skinned woman is a younger copy. Although dressed well, only her pants are black but her shirt is a short sleeved white blouse. She looks awkward, hugging her own arms in uncertainty. It is hard to read the expression on her face.

Last but not least are two identical men. They stand incredibly close to one another dressed in identical black suits but do not make any move to comfort each other.

KILLIAN’S POV:
Our grandmother was perfect. At least in my opinion. The woman was robust, outspoken and never afraid. As much as I love both of my mother's, I learned most of what I know about life from the woman that now lay silent inside this wooden box. I want to say it’s unfair that she’s gone, but it wasn't as though she lived an unfulfilled life. Marian Delgato was 81 when she left this world and man, she had so many stories. Including her time as an Army nurse during Vietnam. I admired her. When I looked at her, I always imagined that maybe life wasn't so hard, after knowing everything she went through. Losing not one, but two husbands. Raising a daughter on her own. Life could be incredibly cold and cruel yet Marian didn't let any of that break her stride.

I look over to see my mother, Ellie, still completely heartbroken. And I knew it was going to take some time for her to heal from this. Her and my grandmother were close. My other mother, Dylan holds her tight, dropping her nose and mouth into the hair on the top of her head, holding her tighter. My grandmother had been one of the few people to support my parents during a time when homosexual relationships were still largely taboo. I don’t think my Mama ever felt more accepted than she did by Marian.

Looking at Porter, I feel lost on how to comfort the man. Although we were identical in every way, right down to our DNA, we couldn't be more different. It was like looking at an alternate reality of what you could have been in another time or place. I know how uncomfortable he is in the suit, in fact it was one of mine since my brother didn't own one. He pulls a little at the collar as if it were cutting off his air way.

Something I would normally chuckle at, but today he got a reprieve. Today was hard for us both.

PORTER’S POV:
It’s hard not to be bitter. A lifetime being the brightest and most caring individual in any room, but it all ends the same. Everyone ends up in a box in the ground. In looking around, it’s hard not to wonder about the people that she will spend the rest of eternity buried beside. Could any of these people really be proper company for her? Did they love as openly as she had? Were they so willing to lend an ear to counsel anyone, even a random stranger? Had any of them gone out of their way to experience life the way that she had?

I doubt it. Yet, here we are, not even two dozen of us bidding farewell and leaving her with all of these people. What’s worse is that I know she would scold me for how I feel. She would tell me not to judge too harshly. Not everyone was taught the same things that we were. People are a product of those that help to bring them up in life. Maybe that is why I am bitter. I feel like at best, I’m still a disappointment. I can’t help but feel like I let her down.

It was easy to see the impact that she had on my mothers. Even Killian has that warmth and welcoming attitude that he no doubt picked up from her. Calla had followed that openness and trusting nature to the point of being hopelessly naive about the way that life was. I think this might be the first time that I am jealous of them. Jealous that they can let people in. Jealous that, in at least that way, they are closer to her than I will ever be, even though it was one of the things that she had always wanted for me. Unlike anyone else, she always saw right through it. She could always see that it was not just the way I was made, but that it was calculated. She knew I was afraid.

I know that I frustrated her, yet she never once raised her voice. Thinking back, I cannot ever remember hearing anything even an decibel above the sweet and nurturing voice she used to wake us up with. Even she she was irritated, or even full blown angry, she would smile, take a deep breath, and tell me she loved me and just wanted me to let someone see me the way that she did. I always told her that when the right one came along, it would happen. I think what I loved about her the most was that she believed me, even in the times that I didn’t. She never gave up hope for me.

I have probably put way too much thought into the look that was going to be on her face the moment I did finally bring someone home for her to meet. In my head it was not the same surprise, or excitement that I might get from either of my mother’s, or siblings. Every time I have pictured it, there was nothing in her eyes but pride. She wanted to see me open up to someone, anyone, and maybe just get to feel a piece of how amazing every second of her life was. She was a woman that allowed herself to feel everything. Every emotion was laid right on her sleeve for everyone to see. I feel like I robbed her of getting to see the person she always hoped I would be.

And for what? To leave her here with all of the other bodies rotting six feet beneath our shoes. It is cheap. It is unfair. They don’t deserve her. Maybe it is more that I didn’t deserve her. I always thought that there would be more time.

KILLIAN’S POV:
The minister nods at me. I had always been better at words than my brother so we had agreed I would be the one delivering the eulogy. My grandmother was hardly religious, citing that the world’s religion should just simply to love who we want, be who we want and mind your own business. For as sweet and beautiful she was, she was witty, took things in stride. She also had no problem finding a way to cut you down to size without ever having to show anger or raise her hand. I suppose that’s why I never pushed her buttons too far. I feared what she would be like if she ever fell past that ridge of no return.

I step up the small hill, seeing everyone’s eyes on me. It never bothered me but today, it felt like I carried so much pressure. This woman was so dear to me, what if I messed it up?

I know what she would say to me though, the same thing she had always told me.
”Killian, you can't be perfect. In order to be a good and decent person you gotta fuck up bad sometimes.”

It was one of two times I had ever heard her curse. I suppose that’s why it stuck with me so heavily, even now where I tell everyone how wonderful she was. Honestly there were no words on earth that could ever do my feelings justice.

PORTER’S POV:
It’s hard to focus on Killian’s words. Every funeral that has ever been held parades family members up in front of everyone to say the same sweet things. Everyone forgets all the negativity. They choose not to remember a person for who they were, but instead choose some ideal version of them that never existed to celebrate. The difference between them, and this woman, is that all of the sweet things are true. It’s only the custom involved in this whole process that cheapens them.

I turn away from it, looking at my mothers’ faces, knowing that it is most certainly worse for the two of them than it is for any of the rest of us. It’s a horrible thought to know that as bad as I feel, it is only the fraction of losing a parent, and losing one of the only people that ever really accepted you. The thought of losing either of them is unthinkably painful. Yet, I know that is what they are both feeling right now. Killian’s words offered them an opportunity to smile at happy memories, but getting through this was going to take more than just that. I can’t help but think that I’m not the one to help them though. If there was an individual most opposite to my grandmother, but still inside the family, it is undoubtedly me. I guess it is a good thing that I was born into the world with my own opposite though.


Killian ends his words with a saying, “The world has lost a beautiful soul, but heaven has gained a gorgeous angel.”

He walks over to the hole in the ground, grabbing a handful of the soil he drops it in before walking back down. Ellie reaches out a hand to grab his, squeezing his fingers before he reluctantly lets them fall away. He joins his brother once more.

“I think it's time to come home brother...”

His eyes are still on the crying woman who gave birth to them as she makes her way to the grave to offer her own handful.It was a subject change that Porter was all too happy to let his brother make. He does not look over at him, staying focused on their mother, trying to make out the words she whispers as she drops the soil into the grave.

“You would, wouldn’t you. I am going to assume it’s all because we’re needed here, and not because things are starting to come apart in Japan.”

Killian sighs heavily. “We agreed not to tell them about the gambling Porter. And yes, our family needs us closer. We are still mostly undefeated in Japan...” a smile crosses his face. “...Wouldn’t you like a new challenge?”

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10 months later...
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“Why are we being overlooked?”

Killian Sweete has a camera close to his clean shaven face.

“A call rings out among the masses... ’more tag teams’they shout and Porter and I sit here with furrowed brows wondering what the hell happened? We have had two real matches since officially inking our contracts. But yet they are hurting for teams?”

He turns away, shaking his head in utter disgust. As Killian leaves the frame to the left of the screen, an identical face steps in from the right. Casual fans might be confused as the duo had not been seen in awhile, but some hopefully remembered the twins.

“It was difficult enough to come up short in our last match. It would seem as though the entire company wrote us off with the loss though. We came in, and dominated The Elders, as everyone expected, but with a single loss to a man that went on to main event Summer XXXtreme, and apparently we were supposed to leave. The Black Sheep got left off shows, and were practically ignored on the cruise. We sat back while others fought for a golden opportunity at a champion of their choosing, all while the tag team division went unrepresented in that match. Remind me again how many of the people in that match showed any effort at all. How many of them are gone now? Yet we are, have been the whole time, and it took a tweet about walking away for us to make our way back onto the card.”

Killian slides in next to him now, the two showing only one side of the identical faces.

“The tag titles have been passed around like some consolation prize. No one hypes them. No one talks about them. This... is the reason that tag wrestling is dying. I am not ready to stand on a hill and deliver a speech about how good it was and then throw my handful of dirt on its remains. I...”

Killian smiles at his brother.

“We came back to America to restore faith in this division and after research, restore faith in SCW’s reputation for holding some of the best Tag talent there is... but first, they need to recognize that there is no viable talent here and throwing together tweedle dee and tweedle dum and praying, is not going to garner MORE interest.”

He chuckles while taking a deep sigh.

“TNA can’t win a singles title so why not throw him to the wolves and hope for the best, right? Gotta make sure not to breach his contract to compete.”

The smile widening across Porter’s face shows what he thinks of the idea.

“Travis Andrews did a lot of talking before Summer XXXtreme. To be honest, he has done a lot of talking since coming back before Into The Void. For all his talk though, what has he accomplished? He is best known for losing. He demands opportunities more often than Steve Ramone, and is not nearly as successful when he gets them. That’s a pretty low bar for success given that Steve is more known for breaking censorship rules than he is for winning. The fact is, Travis Andrews cannot measure up to the bottom tier of the singles division. So now, because his manager tells him to, he is going to try his hand as a tag team?”

He shakes his head, making a clicking sound with his tongue against his cheek.

“Learning to be a member of a team doesn’t happen overnight. Regardless of what singles champions would have you believe, there is no carrying going on in a tag match. There is no weak partner being protected by a strong partner. A team is only as good as its weakest link, and what we have established about this particular weak link, is that he can’t really do much of anything right on his own. It’s not going to be any different when he is competing in this division. To think that it would be, or even could be, shows a level of naivete that makes me doubt the competence of the management.”

Killian nods in agreement.

“All this goes to show is that Travis has fallen so far down the whole that now they are giving him to us, that team they felt compelled to ignore.”

He yawns, big and overly dramatic.

“I feel like our talent is being wasted brother of mine.”

Porter shrugs, equally unenthused.

“It would be different if Travis’ partner was anything less than a bland old man that’s a little too into science fiction if you ask me.”

Killian’s expression changes to that of genuine surprise. Before he can get his question out though, his brother answers him.

“There’s nothing quite like being prepared for anyone, at any time.”

A smile comes across Killian’s face as the realization sinks in.

“Oh, yes… I know who you are.”

Porter turns his head slightly, looking at the camera. More specifically though, it appears he is addressing Horace specifically, in the hopes he is watching.

“Horace Jackson. The man that gave us amazing catch phrases like ‘let me welcome you to the high life’, ‘The Empire Salutes You!’, or my personal favorite, ‘The Darth Knight will always seek to deliver his own brand of justice!’.”

Porter does not even attempt to cover up the condescending laugh that radiates from him. It takes him a few moments to collect himself, but Killian seems to be at a loss for a response to the stupidity.

“You know Horace, maybe it wouldn’t be so funny if you weren’t somebody who has been at this for almost twenty years. You’ve been in-and-out the door here for the last three years and have absolutely nothing to show for it. Maybe if you acted a little more like a guy that spent three tours overseas in the Marines, and a little less like a fanboy running around as Darth Vader, you wouldn’t be such a joke in Sin City. As it is, you’ve bounced out of here a few times and never amounted to much of anything. Sure, you’re freakishly tall, and built like a brick house, but where has any of that gotten you? You haven’t held championships here. You’ve never even done anything to make a significant impact. Your epic reappearance was received with the booming sounds of crickets chirping.”

He shakes his head, clearly disappointed.

“I wish I could say that the saving grace is that you have time to right the ship. Unfortunately that’s just not the case. You’re an old man, who has long since past his usefulness in this industry. No amount of pop culture references are going to change that.”

Killian rests his chin on her hands as he puts his elbows on the table.

“And this is a man expected to save Travis Andrews career? Two wrongs do not make a right. It seems any two idiots can wake up one morning and say, ‘Hey, we both have horrible careers, let's get together and add more to the shit pile’. I guess if you are going to go down in flames, might as well go all in right?”

Killian rolls his eyes.

“People seem to forget the things that make a team a team. It's more than just looking at a line of available people and picking someone. The best teams are the ones that have dedicated the time to becoming a cohesive unit. And honestly... what team in SCW currently can function better than identical twins? None. The Bad Boys may currently hold the titles, but they are merely a placeholder, that is of course if management doesn't fuck this up and actually remembers we signed contracts here. There are plenty of companies out there dying to get us on their rosters because we are a draw.”

His arrogance is evident in his words and tone. Porter adds another team to the list of less-than-acceptable alternatives to The Black Sheep.

“The Unholy Alliance is another barely passable team. At least the Bad Boys have sleeping together to bind them all to a purpose. As we have seen though, that doesn’t really mean anything at all. The Unholy Alliance is made up of two people that have no reason to like each other, and really, after all the continuous failures, no reason to remain a team. Sure, they won at Summer XXXtreme, but only because we were kept off of the card.”

Killian is nodding in agreement.

“Let’s not forget that The Elders are spiltsville but not to worry because it seems Eyesnane is rebounding hard with Bad Boys. I honestly didn't know he swung that way but hey, I’m not one to judge. Seems the majority of any form of relationship doesn’t last more than a minute. Pretty soon you’re dating your ex-girlfriend’s sister and making a baby in an elevator!”

They both have to cover a chuckle.

“Maybe The Elders should have taken a cue from Team BJ when it came to losing the championships. It probably would have saved Matt Dough, or Jon Spears, or whatever the hell his name is, a whole lot of pain and suffering if they would have just dropped the titles and flaked back in November. We can only hope that once we get a chance to relieve The Bad Boys of their titles that they will follow the trend of former champions.”

“But...”

Killian holds up a finger.

“There is one team that would have been suitable competition for us Porter... can you guess who?”

He smiles wide, looking at his brother. Porter mocks a shrug but the smirk on his face tells a different story.

“And that would have been a match of epic put-asses-in-seats proportions but unfortunately they grew tired of winning every match and having no competition so they broke up. One has been travelling the world and secretly married his girlfriend.”

He winks.

“Then the other one saw the roulette title just sitting there looking useless at the hands of every Tom, Joe and dickless. So he snatched that up and look... he is dominating that division all on his own.”

He sighs, looking disappointed. Porter takes a turn in front of the camera.

“It's not as though we are demanding title shots or using our nearly spotless record in the Japanese circuit to inflate our egos, we just want to not be passed by in favor of teams who seem to be as random as drawing two names from a hat. Surely, it is not too much to ask considering we did sign contracts to actually compete here in SCW. We are not keen to stand over the graves of anyone, but if we kept getting given fodder, the names of the dearly beloved will be dearly forgotten.”

The men stare into the camera as it fades out.