Jet City Sports Lab
Jet City, WA
10:12 am PDT
29 June 2017
OFF-CAMERA

This was his nightmare. It had never been exclusively wrestling for Kris. At first, there were drugs, there was art, there was music. In getting the drug problem under control, the rehab center was born. Art and music slowly slipped out the door in favor of a wife, kids, and the Jet City Sports Lab. To add to it, his ‘show up, fight, leave’ routine had somehow turned into ‘arrive a few days early, tape a show, do fan events, do interviews, fight, and maybe leave after everyone else’. That is why on days like this, he finds himself hiding in the office with a towel over his face. His feet are up on the desk, with an oddly haunting sketch of an eye lying in the center of it.

KJ: That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?

At this point the voice does not even surprise him. He knew that the person that it came from was not actually there. The side effect of all of the stress and pressure he put on himself had been this stalker. The problem was, it was a person Kris had never met, and hoped to never actually come across. The sarcastic, spiteful, ghost-like hallucination of his adult son was way too much like his father for Kris to like.

Kris:...and there it is.

The problem with having a conversation was a hallucination was that they did not fall for the set ups to jokes.

KJ: The one thing that could push your headache into a full blown migraine?

Kris pulls the towel off of his face to see the person that he knew was not actually there. He had started to grow tired of the game.

Kris: You’re not real! Go haunt someone else. I have things to do.

Through the pulled shades covering the windows Kris can see movement outside stop at the raising of his voice. Hopefully people would just think that he is on some kind of conference call. He knew that his conscience was not going to let him off though.

KJ: Careful or people are going to find out that you’re starting to lose it in here.

Kris takes his feet off of the table and sits up, starting to fumble through the things on the desk. He had dozens of things he needed to do, but no motivation to start on the list. However, maybe if he kept his mind occupied it would have less time to play these tricks on him.

Kris: I’m fine...

His son laughs at him. Kris honestly doubted that any real life person would have bought the lie either so he was not at all surprised that he did not really buy into it himself.

KJ: We both know you’re not. You clearly need some help.

Kris drops the stack of papers and slams his hands down on the desk. It was not the first time he had heard it today. His hallucination was not even in the first handful of people that had told him as much. It did not mean that he was going to change his answer from the one he gave everyone else though.

Kris:I don’t need anybody. I can handle it.

KJ shrugs, moving around the desk and sitting down in the empty seat across from his father. The smug look on his face makes Kris feel uneasy. He saw so much of himself in him, and not enough of Liz. It made him seem a lot more dangerous than if it were vice-versa.

KJ: Maybe that’s out of your hands now...

Kris’ brow furrows, and he shakes his head.

Kris: We have already established that you’re not real. What can you really--

KJ cuts him off before he can even complete his sentence.

KJ: Knock knock...

Kris opens his mouth to respond, but closes it when there is a light knock on the door that immediately follows his son’s words. He looks up towards the door, very confused, before back in the chair where his son was sitting. There is nobody there. He shakes the thought away. Of course there was nobody there. Kris tosses his sketch under a stack of much more important papers and straightens up his shirt to look a lot less distressed.

Kris: Come in.

The door opens and a woman Kris has never seen enters. Her dark hair is pulled up into a bun, her latte colored skin appears flawless with what appears to be a minimalist approach to her makeup. She isn't smiling though.

Woman: Kris Halich. I was sent here to fill in for Miss Reynolds since it has become more difficult to look after you now that she has reached the third trimester of her pregnancy. My name is Kali Fox. I am a lawyer and I am under strict instructions to take care and oversee any and all things regarding your wrestling career.

She steps forward to offer an outstretched hand. Kris looks down from her eyes, to her hand, and then back up at her. Without even taking a few seconds to consider her offer, he shakes his head.

Kris: Pass. Hard pass. If you want to do blondie’s job, you can do it the same way she did. When I have paperwork for you to take care of, it will come to you. We don’t have to cross paths. We don’t need to get to know each other. We definitely don’t need to shake hands.

He turns his attention back to the papers in front of him, trying to seem busy in the hopes that she would leave him alone.

Kris: Sorry you wasted your time coming down.

She crosses her arms over her chest.

Kali: You don't really have a choice in this Kris.

She pushes a pile of papers off a nearby chair and brushes some unknown orange substance off before sitting.

Kali: I wasn't just picked by Kirsten. And I am getting paid to essentially be your babysitter. You can argue, fight, yell and scream if it makes you feel better but all in all, you are stuck with me.

He is silent for a second, leaning back in his chair. Kris looks back and forth between her eyes and the papers on the desk before picking his words carefully.

Kris: It took me less than a month to get rid of the last person Jason tried to hire to keep an eye on me. It was smart leading by blaming in on Kirsten. I’m going to guess that was Jay’s idea. Don’t worry though. You don’t need to protect his brand. It will be a lot less of a hassle for you, and a lot less of a headache for me if you just took notes from the lawyer girl though. You can do your job from home.

He waits for her to get up, but she makes no move to leave.

Kris: If you know anything at all about me you know I’m very capable of getting rid of people when I really want to. If I don’t want you around, you don’t have a chance of lasting very long. The way I see it, there is very little that I need or want from you. There’s nothing you can do for me that I can’t do myself. I am balancing everything on my own. That’s what he wanted.

Kali: I wasn't hired by Jason either. And trust me Kris, I know everything about you so I was well prepared for your ‘I’m a big boy’ speech. You don’t have to like me. I am here to do a job and I am very good at doing said job.

She looks directly into his eyes without flinching. He raises both of his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes in frustration. With his face covered, he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. When he pulls his hands away, he manages to fake a smile.

Kris: Summer XXXtreme is on a cruise ship. Jet City is obviously here. If I’m not here, there’s a whole lot more you can do here than you can following me around. If you’re not going to just go away, then you can at least stay here and do something useful.

She shakes her head.

Kali: Mr. Ripley has all of that under control. As I said and what you seem to have difficulty understanding is that my specific job is to make sure you are where you are supposed to be, at the correct time with all the things you need.

He shrugs.

Kris: That sounds more like an assistant, and I don’t need one, so again, no thanks. I got it. The clinic is fine. I can handle the stuff for the show before I leave. I can even arrange my own travel. I’m a grown up. I don’t have any use for you.

She shakes her head, pulling her phone out of her pocket, and clicking the screen to life.

Kali: You had yet to book any flights for this weekend. You have a fan event before you leave. The clinic has not ordered supplies in three weeks. Half of the trainees here haven’t paid you. You haven’t said anything about your match this week, and as of the moment I walked into this office, nobody involved in your show has anything to show for this week other than a five hour long conference meeting about breakfast foods.

She had done her homework. Granted, half of that information he had probably accidentally handed her himself through social media. He knew he should not have let the camera guy run the Twitter account for the show.

Kris: Okay, so I’m running a little bit behind.

Kali’s perfectly arched eyebrows raise in amusement.

Kali: A little? These are not just ‘minor’ issues Kris. These are all pretty major things. The first thing you are going to do is hand over a few of those responsibilities to your other staff members. Second, I will take care of your flight and make sure you get the the event. After that, we will discuss how you wish to go about addressing your opponent.

He laughs, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Kris: We won’t be discussing anything once I get to the event. It’s on a cruise ship that has been booked for months. My wife and kids aren’t even going with me because there just isn’t space to make it happen. Unless you plan on sleeping on a couch for a week while I ignore your existence, you need a new game plan.

He gets up from the desk with a smug look on his face, thinking the argument has been won. Being along on the cruise ship gives him an entire extra week alone to fix everything himself and come up with a plan to get rid of her. She reaches into her messenger bag and places a folder on the desk. She flips it open not only to s front row ticket to the show but a first class room accommodations as well.

Kali: I made sure to have all of that looked after in advance. Your boss was very accommodating once I explained what I was doing.

It was her now giving him the smug look. He reaches across the desk and spins the folder around. The tickets to the show were legitimate, but not what he was interested in. Thumbing through the rest of the papers, he finds the reservation for her room. His fingers crawl across the page, looking for the number of the cabin. When he finds it, he shakes his head.

Kris: This doesn’t work. This is adjoining to me. This is supposed to be…

He looks up from the folder, and finds her waiting for his response like she knows what he was going to say. Instead of finishing the thought, he closes his mouth. This was not the kind of argument that he was going to win today. She was well prepared, and on offense. It was not surprising that he felt ambushed.

Kris: You know there’s no way off that boat. You get on it and you are stuck there with me. The fat guy thought he could hang too, and there weren’t very many ways to get under his skin. I have made a career out of making people just like you hate me. You’re setting yourself up for failure.

Kali: Well impossible to make someone who already hates you, hate you Kris. That’s one reason they picked me. Now, I have work to do getting this place back on track. You can get back to talking to yourself and pretending to work. Just be ready to do that promo…

She looks at her very expensive looking wristwatch.

Kali: Two hours.

She stands, snatching the folder from the desk and putting it back in her bag. He sits quietly like he is going to allow her to walk away without question. However, in reality he is just biding his time until she reaches for the door. One thing inside what she said gave him the window that he needed, and now he had a week to exploit it. As soon as her hand touches the doorknob, the words fly out of his mouth.

Kris: If I’m stuck with you, you can at least tell me why you already hate me. I think that’s fair.

She sighs, but doesn’t turn to face him.

Kali: But then I lose my leverage for you to keep me around. See, it is going to eat at you because you can't place me. Can’t figure out why no matter how hard you wrack your brain around it. It keeps you from doing anything overly serious. We aren't playing fair here. Fair is not getting into so much trouble that your family can’t trust you on your own.

She pulls open the door.

Kali: Two hours Kris. See you then.

He did not expect anything different if he was honest with himself. If she was going to give up that information easily, she would have volunteered it. Her mistake was thinking having the leverage made her more safe. He already has his response ready before she can even clear the doorway.

Kris: Your leverage doesn’t get me out of this chair or on that boat. If you think I’m above tanking my career just to get rid of you, you’re wrong. If I wasn’t that kind of person, your services wouldn’t be required.

She looks over her shoulder at him and reaches into her bag again. The paper she shows him is very familiar.

Kali: You underestimate who it was that actually hand picked me to do this. She said she would do it herself if quote not for someone in her head having sympathy for you.

The contract in her hand was one he knew very well and one his wife had learned about just recently when she had probed her sister about it.

Kali: She said that without Kirsten able to be around, you needed a handler. Someone that wouldn't put up with your shit. So again, do not underestimate me.

He raises his arms behind his head, cradling the back of his head in the interlaced fingers of his hands. There is a smile on his face, despite the indirect threat to his marriage and children.

Kris: I’ll see you in a couple hours then.

She places the paper back into her bag, stepping the rest of the way through the door and letting it close behind her. He waits until the door is firmly shut before he snaps up out of his seat and starts to gather papers.

KJ: She’s going to be a problem…

Kris jumps where he stands, the ghostly version of his son speaking directly into his ear.

Kris: You’re in my head. You already know she’s not. You’re just saying that to piss me off.

Kris opens the desk and grabs a black folder out of it, opening it onto the desk. He stacks the papers on the desk neatly and puts them into one pocket before walking around to the other side of the table and picking up what he needed from the stack she pushed onto the floor.

KJ: She hates you…

Kris shakes his head, coming up from the floor with what he needed and stuffing them into the empty side of the folder. He picks it up, tucking it underneath his arm and searching the back wall for the right keys.

Kris: She doesn’t actually know me. She is a lawyer. The person she hates is the person she is reading off of that paper. The junkie drug addict who cannot be trusted around children and is a danger to both himself and his wife. Now she is stuck in an adjoining room with me for a week on a boat.

KJ takes a seat where Kali had been previously sitting, raising his feet up to rest on the desk.

KJ: That has to make you mad. You had plans for that room. All of the hard work and preparation down the drain. I guess you really will be flying solo for the whole time. Even worse, now you have a nanny there to micromanage your time. I hope you plan to smuggle a little something down there with you or you are going to have a bad time.

He finds the keys that he is looking for and takes them off of the hook, moving down past the bathroom inside the office to the back door.

Kris: I’m not smuggling anything, and my plans haven’t changed, just the person has. If she’s not begging for someone to pick her up before I have to start filming on the preview show, it’s because she made some sort of deal with the devil.

KJ points from where he sits, over at his father.

KJ: ….and running off out the backdoor in a company car is going to help how?

Kris shrugs, disconnecting the fire alarm to the door and pulling the locking level up so that he can push it open.

Kris: You heard her. I have two hours to figure out who the fuck she is and why Violet hired her. Hopefully nobody will even realize I am gone. My car is out front and nobody will have seen me leave the office.

Kris closes the door, trying to end the conversation, but is immediately startled by his son leaning against the wall behind the closed door.

Kris: You have to stop doing that.

KJ shrugs.

KJ: You have to stop thinking slamming the door or walking away can get rid of me. It doesn’t work like that. You’re stuck with me until you deal with the reason that I’m here. Ignoring me isn’t going to get rid of me. Seducing me isn’t an option either…

Now it is time for Kris to shrug in response. He tried hard not to focus on how well his mind recreated the mannerism perfectly when his son did it.

Kris: You’re not real, so you’re not a real problem. She is, so she needs to go sooner rather than later. I guess you got moved to the back of the line.

Kris tries to walk away again, clicking the remote in his hand to unlock the doors of the white sedan in the alleyway. They had gotten it for the prospective trainees to use while first visiting, so nobody would notice it was missing. He climbs into the driver’s seat, throwing the folder next to him. He catches sight of his son in the back when adjusting the mirror.

KJ: Phillip is not going to tell you what you want to know.

Kris smiles, putting the key in the ignition of the car.

Kris: No, but he will give me a little bit more than I already know in exchange for me not touching him. Anything is going to help. I want this chick gone by Tuesday. I don’t have time to waste.

Kris shifts the car into drive, and looks up into the rear view mirror again, thinking he was going to get some response. To his surprise, the seat is empty behind him. He shakes his head, trying to avoid acknowledging the uneasy feeling that it gives him when he realizes he is actually alone. He was right about one thing though, he did not have any time to waste.



===================
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Jet City Sports Lab
Jet City, WA
12:01pm PDT
29 June 2017
ON-CAMERA


”This should be exciting...”

The screen comes to life with Kris in a regular office chair. He is seated in the middle of the the bigger of the two rings inside the Jet City Sports Lab, spinning around in circles. The SCW Roulette Championship rests on his lap, and oddly he is dressed as if he is about to compete. The unzipped, bright white, “Pure” jacket is opened to show his chest beneath it, and the matching white shorts with his name down the sides sparkle in the light.

”The entire SCW roster sets sail on a likely disease-ridden boat for a week before we are going to beat the hell out of each other. I think the reason that this roster functions so well, is because we all have our own lives. We come together to put on a show, and then with few exceptions, all go our own way afterwards. People that don’t like each other, never have to see each other unless there is a match. Any tensions between people have time to diffuse during the week. That’s not going to be the case on this boat though. We are all going to be trapped with one another, with the only escape being a long swim back to a shore.”

He stops spinning, planting his feet on the floor once he is facing the camera.

”For me that means a lot of things. Despy is hosting the show and is still mad at me about delicious cookie cannibalism. Mikah is going to be there, so I expect there to be a lot of jokes with double meaning. The Mean Girls will be in attendance, bringing the level of hotness at poolside way the fuck down. Alexis Staggs will be in the house telling me how sorry she is that she’s not sorry, and Tim will be around to get into trouble dressed as Batman. It also means that people like Travis Nathaniel Andrews and Steve Ramone, two of my biggest critics as of late, get to bask in my presence. For one of these reasons, several of them, or even all of them, there’s a good chance that someone is going to be getting thrown off the boat, and the Vegas betting lines are making me the heavy favorite.”

He shrugs. Other people might have been worried about how truthful the statements were, but Kris has always managed to enjoy the chaos he creates.

”We do know at least a few things though. One of my opponents, Ryan Keys, will definitely be dressed to impress. Jamie Dean is going to have a blast judging a bunch of wet shorts. Bobbie Dahl is going to be making so many fans so very uncomfortable, and The Bad Boys will continue to bore us with their irrelevancy. We also know this though, this Roulette Championship match is going to be held Ultimate X style over top of a pool. Now, normally we would not know what kind of match we were having before the wheel spins, so this is a pleasant change… for me. For Ryan Keys, meeting me in this kind of match is going to feel a lot like deja vu. See, I took the title away from him under these rules. Granted, there was not a pool involved. I don’t foresee that being a problem though. If stepping into the ring with me yet again, after losing to me last week, was not bad enough, now he has to do so in a match he has already lost a title to me in. But hey, I bet he enjoys the cruise anyways.”

He leans forward.

”And then there is you, Travis. Basically since the moment I first put my hands on the title that you can’t have until the end of October, you have been chirping. First it was demanding a title match and having both of the bosses laugh in your face. Then it was about how much better than me you were, and how big of a disappointment you see me as. It worked. You got me to ask the bosses for a match with you. Congratulations. However, that’s not the way things work anymore. They told me no. They even told me that I couldn’t book myself in any matches when I hosted Climax Control specifically to keep me away from you. If it was up to me, your mouth would have been closed a long time ago. As it stands, they let you earn your way into Ryan’s rematch clause. Now you get to be trapped on a cruise ship with someone like me, who you have been picking at, and picking at for more than a month.”

Kris leans forward, slinging the championship up over his shoulder as he does.

”So let me remind you of something that I just said. Typically the SCW roster gets a week to cool off after matches, heated promos, or insulting segments. Typically, each week when I show up, I have already let what you said the week before roll off my back. There is nothing typical about this cruise though. There is no time to cool off. So let me give you some advice. Pick your words carefully, or be prepared to spend the week locked in your room and hoping that the room service person knocking on your door isn’t me in a disguise. You know that I’m more than capable of beating your ass before this match even gets under way, and you know I’m the kind of person that doesn’t give a shit how much trouble it lands me in. One week from Sunday, or maybe even before, you’re going to get yours.”

He stands up from the chair, taking a few steps closer to the camera, and winking with a smile.

”Trust me.”




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



Taxy Bar
Los Angeles, CA
5:51pm PDT
30 June 2017
OFF-CAMERA

This partnership was not going well. Phillip had been no help when Kris went to ask about Kali. Apparently he had been left out of the selection process. Kris knew better than to try and get any information out of Violet either. He had returned to Jet City, done his promo, and allowed her to drive him to the airport. The entire flight was silence, Kris listening to music so loud that she could hear it, and Kali pretending not to be bothered by it. As soon as they landed, and he switched his phone back on, the arguing started. His marriage was no shaky ground, and since Kali was the only one around to vent to, he had chosen to bail. That is how he ended up in the parking lot of a bar seen a lot throughout his career, despite having a horrible reputation. The only thing keeping him in the car was an argument he was having with his new assistant. However, one particular message set him off.

Are you done throwing your temper tantrum yet? It is kind of funny watching you be mad at your phone.

It was all he could do to not look around and find where she was watching him from. All of his frustration finally bubbles over. He shuts the rental car off, and steps out, slamming the door behind him. He does not even check the street before crossing the road, texting back the only response that he thought might help him feel better.

Nope. You can watch this though.

He walks from his car, across the street to a bar he had been to more times than he could count. It was the same one so heavily featured in his early SCW work. However, before he enters, he winds up, throwing the phone as hard as he can against the bricks making up the front wall. It splinters into dozens of pieces and he pulls open the door, disappearing inside. He is shocked to see the pretty mocha skinned assistant sitting at the bar. Without even looking she pushes a glass and a silver gift bag in front of an empty stool. He pushes it out of his way and calls the bartender over to him. They shake hands, the man behind the counter with a huge smile on his face.

Kris: Brandon's. The real one.

The smile immediately fades from the bartender’s face. Kris meets his judging eyes, and speaks through gritted his teeth. His voice was low and level, clearly holding back most of his emotions.

Kris: Just fucking do it. Okay? I don't need a fucking lecture.

The man behind the counter disappears, albeit reluctantly.

Kali: Trouble in paradise? She takes a sip of her own drink, her tone even and cold.

Kris: Don't fucking talk to me. You don't exist.

His words are cool and collected, despite their viciousness. The bartender comes back, and places the bottle in front of Kris. For a second he does not take his hand off of it though. Kris grabs it around the middle and rips it from his hand.

Kris: Thank you.

He reaches over the bar, grabbing a regular sized beer glass and scooping it full of ice. The cork top of the bottle is not a roadblock at all. He raises the bottle to his lips, sinking his teeth into the cork and pulling it out. Silently, Kris fills the glass, swirls it once, and kills the entire thing. Kali smirks, still sipping her own drink slowly, but not so foolish enough as to keep pushing him when he was clearly so close to bursting. Kris puts the glass down on the table, and tilts the bottle towards it, filling the glass a second time. However, instead of draining it, he puts the cork back into the top of the bottle and stands from the stool. He reaches into his pocket and throws a stack of money on the counter before scooping up the bottle, his glass, and walking away. He rounds the pool tables where more regulars recognize him and offer greetings. He passes them without a word though, moving to a corner booth and sitting down, killing the second full glass of gin. Of course she tracks him with her eyes, but Kali stays where she is. He refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was nervous about the whole situation. Part of the reason that she had been hired to make sure he stayed out of places like these.

Kris: Can I get my stuff please?

He yells it out towards the counter, without taking his eyes off of his drink. He takes the cork out of the top of the bottle, and starts to fill the glass when the bartender moves out from behind the counter and over to him. In his hands are a bucket, that Kali sees Kris reach into before dropping another few ice cubes into his glass, and a small, black phone. He pats Kris on the shoulder and comes back around the bar. Kris flips open the back of the phone and slides his SIM card into it before snapping the case closed again and turning it on. So focused on watching him without trying to be obvious, she misses the bartender stopping in front of her.

Bartender: He wants me to throw you out.

Before she can respond, he holds his hands up in front of his chest innocently.

Bartender: Don't worry, I'm not going to.

Kali: You couldn't anyway. I would sue you and this bar so badly your grandchildren would still be paying mine. You are a smart man, don't let anyone downplay that because you're a bartender.

Bartender: Lady, do you know why he comes here?

He waits for a response, but she does not cave to what was clearly just a set up to a speech.

Bartender: Kris has been coming in here for four years. This is the first time he has ever drank.

He reaches below the counter and takes out an identical bottle of gin.

Bartender: He normally drinks out of this. It's just water. And hustles the guys in some pool. He normally gives them their money back after and kicks me a little.

He takes the bottle and puts it back under the counter.

Bartender: But he knows that if you bring that attitude into a place like this, all he has to do is ask and you can be taken out back and have that education of yours beaten right out of your head. You'll be less worried about suing anyone and more worried about relearning how to tie your shoes and spell your name. Get it?

Kali: I suggest you step off sir.

She pushes her empty glass forward. He looks down at it, shaking his head. She was almost as big of a hassle as Kris was. He points over at Kris.

Bartender: He's a good kid, and clearly something is not right with him right now.

He lowers his hand, and refills her glass, sliding it back across the counter to her.

Bartender: If you can't see that, then you're not the good guy here.

She reaches into her messenger bag, presumably to pay for the drink, but the bartender shakes his head, stopping her. Kali looks up confused, but the bartender picks up the stack of money Kris had thrown on the counter.

Bartender: He already paid for it.

She glances at his name tag. Of course it had to be something less than interesting. After all, he was standing behind a bar, way past middle age, and his name was not on the marquee outside. Clearly he had made poor life choices.

Kali: Mark... I am not here to soothe his hurt feelings. I am here to make sure he doesn't do anything to fuck up a contract he signed. So while I appreciate you being concerned, you really shouldn't involve yourself. It is a sticky web you can't easily get out of.

He laughs. It is unsettling how genuine it is. It was a lot like being on the outside of a joke that everyone else gets.

Mark: How long have you been around? A week? Less? Lady I've been watching out for him for four years. I could write that kid's biography. He has helped me close up. He has helped me keep the power on when business was slow. I have scooped him up out of that booth so fucked up on the shit he put in his arm that he couldn't put a sentence together. You can't tell me anything about him that I don't know.

She takes slow sip of her brandy.

Kali: I’ve been around longer than you think. I have never said he can’t be a good person and honestly I haven't even said anything bad in this entire conversation. I simply said I am not his mom or his wife here to pat his head. I am here to make sure he doesn't get that way again because if he does... its game over. In more ways than one.

Her tone hasn't changed from the cool evenness the entire time. Mark shakes his head, neither convinced, nor impressed.

Mark: So if you know the things I know, know the kid he is, and have been around so long, why act like such a bitch? Clearly something is wrong. And you’re taunting him? You going to say the person you were texting before he smashed his phone against my building wasn’t him? If you’re not here to help, the least you can do is not make it worse.

Kali: Fair enough.

She still does not seem overly enthused about the idea, but stands from the stool, and grabs her drink before making her way across the bar. He does not look up at her, but at this point the bottle in his hand is already halfway gone. For the first time, she actually reads the label.

Kali: Brandon’s Gin. Gin? Are you an old lady?

The jab does not stop him from refilling his glass, and then topping it off with fresh ice. It was actually a question that nobody ever asked him. The brand was not carried in many places. It definitely was not on the menu here, but there was a very clear reason.

Kris: It’s the only thing I never saw my dad drink, and never saw at any of the liquor stores he took us to. It’s just mine. I don’t have to be like him to drink.

She understands immediately, but pushes any sign of it off of her face. If she was going to make it in this job, she needed to maintain the illusion for now. It would happen eventually, but not like this, and not today.

Kali: You know it’s not really something people drink by itself. Normally it gets mixed.

Kris raises his glass, the same amount of indifference in his voice. She was mildly impressed that he was still able to string together coherent sentences.

Kris: Well I’m not much of a drinker. It is not my thing, but it will have to work.

It takes effort, but she manages to ask the one question that he needed to hear, even though he would not respond favorably. It was more about the offer than whether or not he took it. It built trust.

Kali: You want to talk about it?

He shakes his head.

Kris: Nope.

Kris raises the glass, and drinks a considerable amount of the contents. It was a good sign that he was slowing, and not killing a glass in one go. She assumed that meant he was starting to get to the level he wanted to be on. The one where he did not have to feel whatever was on his mind. Her next question was not so easy. She had no clue what his answer would be, but as much as he needed to hear her ask the first one, she needed to hear the right answer to this one.

Kali: You want me to go?

He thinks it over, raising his glass again and finishing it off. At this point it was going to be a miracle if he did not black out right there in the booth before too long. His voice is low, almost a whisper, and comes with the most subtle of head shakes.

Kris: No.



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



Grand Princess Cruise Ship
Post Kris and Mikah Show
11:07pm PDT
1 July 2017
ON-CAMERA


The theme for the Black Sheep is playing to the sound of applause from the other side of a giant screen being used for the graphics for the Kris and Mikah Show. Standing by is Scott Oliver with a camera crew, waiting by the back steps in the hopes of talking to one or both of the hosts. His hopes are answered when Kris steps behind the back of the screen, clawing under his shirt with his right hand, and holding a drink completely level in the other. Despite the fact that the sun was down before the show even started, he is wearing sunglasses to cover his eyes. The Roulette Champion manages to unhook his microphone, throwing it down onto the deck as he comes off of the staircase. He turns towards Scott, and immediately stops in his tracks. He goes to turn away, but thinks better of it. He raises his drink to his lips, finishing it and coming over to Scott.

”You can leave. I just need your camera.”

Scott opens his mouth to object, but the glare that Kris shoots his direction is unlike anything he has ever seen. The two usually got along so well. Stoner holds out his microphone to Kris, who smiles, not even attempting to make it look remotely sincere before he rips it from his hand. Scott opens his mouth again, like he is going to try and get to the bottom of it, but changes his mind, turning tail and walking away. Kris raises the microphone up as music starts to play on the deck on the other side of the screen.

”Another successful show in the books. Call it the Kris and Mikah Show, or the Mikah and Kris Show, whatever the fuck you want, but we just packed a boat the day before people were supposed to show up. People are paying attention. People are enjoying what I am doing.”

He pauses, looking at the microphone and turning it over in his hands a few times. After the brief examination, he realizes it is nothing more than a prop. Irritated, he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and attempting to count to ten. He does not quite make it, instead opening his eyes, and throwing the microphone as hard as he can. The camera turns with it, following it through the air with aid from the lights all around the boat. It splashes into the water an impressive distance away.

”My co-host had to pause and ask me if I was okay a few times during the show. Over the last couple of days I have been asked by fans, friends and family alike if I am okay. I figured that maybe my little promo yesterday left some unanswered questions so when I saw you guys standing here I just couldn’t help myself.”

He holds his arms out to his sides, and the camera pans up to see the giant screen behind him. The image is flipped because we are along the back, but very clearly is the banner with both his and Mikah’s faces on it.

”Let’s go to the tape, shall we? I am the only person on this roster that got pitched an idea to do a show. Go look at SCW studios right now. It’s a bunch of old bullshit, and then me. I put this together. I made it watchable. I made it successful enough that it was the kickoff event for Summer XXXtreme tonight.”

He lowers his arms, laughing a little.

”What else? How about being a fucking champion in this company? How about being the most well known person in this company right now. You ask free agents about SCW, and they don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You bring up my name, and there is instant recognition. Who else do they have carrying a title that measures up? Mikah and Crystal? Nope. They get dumped on because people think they are lazy. J2H and Raab? One we have had more than enough of as champion, the other we never cared about to begin with. Jessie Salco? Hard pass. She is barely interesting enough to stand next to Amy. Team BJ? Nowhere near the level of fandom that I have. I love them. They know it, but it is still true. I think that’s all the titles that people give a damn about. Which champion sticks out, huh? SCW fans know and love all of those people, but outside this company people would rather pay attention to Gavin Grimes than J2H. I am the one that is out there busting my ass all the time. I am the one people enjoy seeing.”

He shrugs, looking away from the camera. This was not the same Kris that people were used to seeing. He was normally only cruel when he had a point to make. This seemed like more of an angry rant.

”And that’s not even where my success ends. I hosted a show. I run my own gym where people come and beg to train. I help operate a little rehab clinic in Echo Park. I am a hell of an artist, so I am told, and a decently talented musician. Yet, people keep harping and asking if I am fine. ‘Kris are you okay?’ ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ ‘Is something wrong?’”

His voice becomes much more sarcastic and snarky when he dives into the caricatured voices of the people concerned about him.

”Let me let you all in on a little secret. The reason that all of you like me, or watch me, despite the things I say and do, is because I am always having a good time. I enjoy myself. I do what I want. I say what I want. Over the last few years, people have really come to just expect that. That is why I can go around hitting on Mikah and people just laugh instead of tell me I am ruining the sanctity of marriage. That is why I can provoke any person in this industry on social media, and even though I am a dick, people take my side. That is why I can host a show making fun of everyone on this roster, and instead of of outrage, I am met with laughter.”

He seems to be at a loss for a better explanation.

”What else do you need to see in order for me to answer that question? A wet boxer shorts competition? Tune in a few days from now. Backstage antics like water balloon fights and practical jokes? I do that every week. You need me to flirt and make people uncomfortable more than I already do? I am not sure that I can. It already takes up a lot of my day.”

He breaks into a sort of angry, and irritated laugh that clash with his words. However, he seems unable to control the tone of his voice or facial expressions. Under the scowl, and the raised voice, he just seems bitter for some reason.

”What you all need to do, is take a huge step backwards, and then go fuck yourselves. I don’t need anybody babysitting me. I don’t need people hitting me up and trying to find some greater meaning or reason behind how I act. This is me.”

He brings both of his palms up and taps his chest.

”It’s all I’m ever going to be. It’s all that there is. It is not some mask that I need someone to pry off so I can be myself. I am not as lame as Rage. I don’t need to be saved from myself. I like being me. I am successful. I’m the fucking SCW Roulette Champion and that is not something that is changing any time soon. If that means being stuck on this cruise with a bunch of overbearing fans, and a roster full of asshats for a week, bring it on. If it means smacking around a chump like Travis Nathaniel Andrews, I’m more than capable. If it means beating Ryan Keys, AGAIN then I will dump his ass in the pool and make it happen.”

He raises his hand up to the side of his face, scratching lightly at his cheek. It has a sort of calming effect on his tone of voice. He takes a deep breath, starting to feel more relaxed. When he speaks again, it is almost the normal Kris that people have come to reluctantly love.

”What I don’t need is a boat full of people trying to make me something I am not. If you have enjoyed watching me claw my way out of the hole that I dug, then why pick at it? I didn’t used to have fans. I didn’t used to have roster members paying attention to me. I made the changes that I made on my own. I made the decision to come back, and be better, on my own. I never needed any support or coddling to make it happen. I damn sure don’t need it now that I have climbed out of the ditch and started my ascension to the top of this company. If you have enjoyed the ride, sit back and keep enjoying it. If you haven’t, change the fucking channel because I don’t care about your opinion anyways. I am doing this for me. I am doing it my way. Get on board or bail on me all together. It’s not going to change who I am either way.”

He shakes his head, and turns like he is leaving, but freezes, turning back to the camera.

”Ryan? Travis? This boat pulls out of here tomorrow. I suggest that you both enjoy this trip as much as possible. I know that I’m going to. However, when the cruise is over for me, I am walking out with everything I brought with me, and you’re both going home the same failures you’ve always been and probably always will be.”

He chuckles, turning away from the camera and heading towards the ramp leading back to solid ground. He yells back over his shoulder towards the camera before he is out of earshot though.


”Trust me!”

 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.”

 The scene opens with Kris standing in an alleyway. The sounds of the cars on the backside of the camera are more than enough to give the impression of a busy city. Kris stands dead center in the middle of the path, a dumpster to his left, and what looks like piles of old newspapers waist-high on his right. Next to the dumpster, is a beaten up garage door that had to be fifty years old. For a second, he quietly takes in his surroundings, letting the viewers do the same without his words distracting them.

”I hate New York City….”
>It is a bold statement considering that Into The Void is now just days away, and will be taking place just eighteen blocks from where he currently stands. Something seems different about him. This place has him on edge.

”That shouldn't bother any of you. A lot of people hate this place, and for all kinds of different reasons. Maybe they like driving, and you cannot really do that here. Maybe it is too crowded, or too unsafe to raise a family. This city never sleeps, but most people actually enjoy the downtime so they find that NYC is not for them. People might hate that this place is always changing. You go to a nice restaurant on a Monday, only for it to be turned into a coffee shop by Wednesday. For every person that says they hate it here, there is the possibility of a totally unique reason for it. There are millions of reasons to hate any given place. I trust that none of you will think less of me for giving you my honest opinion.”

He shrugs, clearly still trying to warm up to the place.

”I guess it is worth explaining that my reason for hating this place has nothing to do with any of those things, or really anything outside of this alley.”

He holds his arms out to his sides.

”To the surprise of no one, for six months, I called this place home.”

The camera follows Kris as he crosses over to the beaten garage door. He reaches down to the ground to lift it, however the door gets stuck three-quarters of the way up. It was far enough to make his point though. Right at eye-level, the door was tagged with five letters.

K-Halc

The inside of the garage is dark, but the light that manages to sneak under the door shows that it is empty except for a mattress on the floor. There was no door to access the building that it was attached to. The whole space gave off the feeling of a long-forgotten-about storage room. Kris takes his hand off of the door, and though it strains, it manages to stay up. Looking at his hands, he smacks his palms together a few times and moves away from the door to the stack of newspapers. He picks one of them off of the top, and starts wiping off his hands.

”The only person that knew about this place before now was Clarissa Ashford. I’m not sure how many of you will even remember her, but she was my manager back in the day when I was carrying around the SCW Internet Championship. We were on the world tour then, but one of our flights had us staying over in the city for almost an entire day while we were waiting on the plane. I dipped out, headed right down there….”

The camera turns to follow the way he is pointing. At the end of the alleyway, across the street, is a Starbucks, directly facing the alley. The camera does not linger on it for very long before returning to Kris. As it does, he is tossing the newspaper he used to wipe his hands into the dumpster.

”... I got some coffee and I sat in the window, staring at this place, but I didn’t know why. In fact, I didn’t know why until just recently. At this point, most all of you know the big details of my past. SCW has not laid off how sketchy I was before coming back in October. The facts about my random coming and going in the company, and my lack of effort through it all is well documented. So, there is absolutely no big secret regarding how I came to live here. I got sent to rehab. I got kicked out of rehab. If my brother found me, I was going back, and I had no interest in that. What else could I do but find a place to lay low? This was it. Nobody bothered me, and I did not bother anyone else. I did what I wanted to do, and nobody even knew I was here. I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t enjoy myself. There was only one thing in the world that I needed back then, and I had it. It didn’t matter that nights got cold. It didn’t matter that at any point, whoever owns this building could have come down and randomly checked out the storage space and I would have definitely been arrested….”

He leans back against the dumpster.

”What I couldn’t understand years ago, while sitting in that coffee shop, is that I was still the same person that I was when I lived here. As far as I had gone in my life, even while holding the SCW Internet Championship, I was still the person that would have been happiest being homeless in an alley with my most favorite thing in the world. I didn’t understand it then because I was still on the hook. However, when I got here today, it was different. Last time I was looking across the street, at an alley that felt like home still. I felt like I could come over here, open up the door, and happily fall back into this life. When I got here today, it was the opposite. It is difficult to be here. It is difficult to imagine the person that I used to be. I know now that I can’t go back to that. Not because I wouldn't enjoy it, but because I have an entirely different set of priorities these days. What this place represents is not what I want most in the world anymore, and that is why it makes sense for me to be talking to all of you from right here.”

He pushes away from the dumpster, kicking an empty can on the ground and sending it flying past the camera and out of his path. He starts to pace back and forth across the alley, despite the fact that it could not be more than ten feet wide.

”Last week I went all over the place, cutting promos from places that made sense for all of my opponemts. I had just beaten Steve inside the six-sided ring, so I talked to him from there. Since James has been doing his best impression of a shitty professor, I went to a classroom and sat down. Since the most compelling this about Ryan Keys is what he is, or is not wearing, I cut a promo from a closet. This week, is about me. Just like this match is about me. As far as viewers are concerned, the other three people in this match are just around so that someone can take the fall at the end. There’s not a single thing that is compelling about the game of hot-potato that they have been playing with a title that Equinox and Goth made prestigious. Nobody cares about their nine or tenth match against one another. Nobody cares about their various rematch clauses, or motivations. The only thing in this match that has not been seen, or done before, is me walking away with the Roulette Championship.”

He stops pacing to motion to his surroundings once more. He holds his arms up to his sides, and turns to face the camera.

”I mean look at this place! The person that lived here is the same one that Equinox buried on back to back shows when the Roulette Championship was on the line; the same homeless junkie that Alex Kaelin threw in a dumpster under Roulette Rules. But what have I been telling all of you, every time that I have been in front of a camera for the last seven months? I am not back to hide from those facts, or explain them away. I am back to erase all of this shit. I came back to this company, where I do not have the best reputation, to fix what I did wrong. Since the moment I signed a new contract I have been talking about mending fences, righting wrongs, and succeeding where I have previously come up short. The problem is, nobody seems to be listening to those things.”

He drops his arms, letting out a defeated sigh.

”People are wondering why I am even in this match. For instance, the idiots are asking what qualifies me to be here. However, Steve Ramone has been an embarrassment for, at least, the last month and James Tuscini will hammer his record into your head more than a dozen times in a five minute window, but always stops short of remembering that he lost his rematch clause to a talentless hack. On the other side of the equation, management has asked me over and over again why I would want to be in this match. I just held the tag titles for months without losing any steam. Jet City takes one loss, and we take a break. To someone not paying attention, that would seem sudden. My wanting a shot at the Roulette Championship would kind of come as a shock, but to those paying attention, like all of you at home, it makes total sense. You have been watching me talk about this exact thing since the end of last year. The only thing that should be surprising about it is that it took me this long to get to this point.”

He shakes his head, putting his hands in the front pockets of his dark blue jeans. Kris shifts a little on his feet, looking at the ground in front of him.

”I can be absolutely honest with all of you. I don’t want this the same way that James, Steve and Ryan want this. They all have their motivations. Steve thinks he is entitled to more reigns with the Roulette Championship, and made a point to mention that last week. He blames management for his losses because they made him defend the title against lucky and undeserving people. James wants to assert some kind of dominance. He has this impressive record against everyone in this match except me, and nothing to show for it. Last Climax Control he became the least impressive person in a giant group. It makes sense that he would want to carry a championship into Climax Control, so that he doesn’t get lost in the shuffle. Then you have Ryan. This is a super talented kid, that is really just getting started. He wants to earn respect, but not from any of the fans, or people sitting at home, because they already adore him. He wants to hold one of the most difficult and unpredictable championships in this entire industry, so that the people in the locker room will respect him as a competitor. What he doesn't realize, is that respect won't come from those people because of this title. It is the kind of thing that takes years, not championships.”

He looks up from the ground, and into the camera.

”Unlike James and Steve, I'm not going to stand in front of a camera and shout baseless claims while failing to understand the other people in the match. They have told you that they think I have no place here. Even though I beat Steve in a Roulette Rules match on the last Climax Control, I am not deserving of being in this match. Likewise, my tag team win over James doesn't count because of my brother “cheating” while making the pin during the no-DQ tag match we had. He will even double down on the baseless bullshit by saying my brother carried me through Jet City. Apparently he missed the Climax Control where I beat Jay, in the middle of the ring, with no help at all. The last time I lost a singles match, or was even pinned in the SCW ring was more than a year ago. Can any of you say that? Can any of you say that you have had the success that I have had in the time that I have been here? You can point the finger at my brother and say that I had a talented tag team partner, but James has Dmitri at his side and still hasn't gotten the job done.”

He pauses, awaiting some kind of explanation that nobody is there to give to him.

”James likes to try and act like Jet City cheated to beat him, or wanted the double count out finish, but clearly he is the only one that hasn’t watched those matches. His team benefitted from that count out, not mine. They did it because they knew they couldn’t beat us, and would never jump to the front of the line to the tag team championships if they lost. They pulled their little stunt and then they got a No Disqualifications match that they didn’t deserve. What did they do with it? They came up short and then he wants to talk all kinds of shit about us using the rules to our advantage? Did you not know what kind of match you were walking into? Were you not paying attention?”

He pulls his left hand from his pocket, and holds it palm-out to the camera.

”No. Stop. Don't even answer that. Of course you weren’t, but that’s your problem, not mine, and I’m not going to stand here and repeat it seventeen more times so you can get it. Both of the other ‘challengers’ in this match…”

Kris raises both of his hands to put literal air quotes around the word ‘challengers’ before dropping them back into his pockets.

” …will tell you that I don’t belong, but as we have established, neither of them earned places in this match. They have both lost major matches that should have kept them out of competing for the Roulette Championship. Yet, they seem to want me to prove that I belong. I have given you people my opinion about how deserving I am, but that’s kind of a biased answer. Obviously, I think I deserve to be here, but you know who else does? The man bringing the Roulette Championship to the ring, Ryan Keys. Ryan has already told all of you that he thinks I earned this match. He admits that I fought to get here, and has said that he was glad that there was someone in this match that was not simply gifted a title match. He was happy that someone, anyone, didn’t whine, bitch, or complain their way into the title picture. He was ecstatic to compete against someone that has beaten the other challengers, and got their spot the right way. But let me ask you this, what does he have to gain from saying as much?”

Again Kris waits like the camera is going to answer his question. He looks down again, but this time with a smile on his face.

”The short answer is, nothing at all.”

He laughs out loud after the statement, and then looks back up into the camera.

”It doesn’t benefit Ryan Keys to say nice things about me. He’s not naïve enough to think that he is going to get me to take it easy on him by being nice. He’s not trying to trick me into cutting him a break. He said it for one reason, and one reason alone: it’s true. Ryan knows I have more than earned my place, and he wants nothing more than to be respected. Put those two things together and you can see that he is giving respect in the hopes of getting a little back. What he doesn't know, is that he doesn't have to earn any of it with me. I know what kind of person he is, and how talented he is. I already respect him more than both of the others combined. However, that's not going to stop me from ending his title reign almost embarrassingly short. That's not personal though. That's just how things work in this world, and in a world where even the champion knows I deserve to be here, what do I need to prove to the idiots that lucked their way? I can answer that one too: not a damn thing.”

Kris turns from the camera starting to pace once again, but stopping at the dumpster, shaking his head and laughing.

”I can say one other thing to Ryan’s benefit; that guy knows how far to push lines. He knows how far to carry his own hype before drawing a line in the sand. Ryan Keys might still be green, but he already learned something that Steve hasn’t learned in his decade long career of disappointment. He learned something that James hasn’t learned despite all his humiliating losses. How do I know this? Because you don’t hear Ryan making claims that he is going to win this match, and hang onto the title until he gets injured and has to vacate it like Steve promised he would do. You don’t hear him saying that he is going to walk in and kick everyone’s ass, and could do so blindfolded, with an arm tied behind his back, like James said in his promo last week.”

He shrugs without pulling his hands from his pockets, turning to put his back against the dumpster.

”If Steve wins this match, how is he going to backtrack off of that statement when he loses? If the wheel spins and forces James to wrestle blindfolded and one-armed, how could he even bitch about it being unfair? That’s not to say that he wouldn’t, the guy complains about cheating in a No DQ match, and I would I have to explain that flawed logic seventeen more times before he could grasp the problem with it.”

Kris starts moving towards the camera, albeit slowly. He raises his left hand to his face, tapping the middle of his lips with his index finger. He does not share the thought until he closes in on the camera, and hunches down in front of it to be eye-level.

”The only thing that I have to figure out, is if I really want to win at Into The Void. Despite the fact James and Steve have both said I don’t deserve to be in the match, they’ve at least hinted that they would be more than happy to beat me one-on-one with the title on the line. Likewise, both Ryan Keys and I have said on social media that regardless of which one of us walks out with that title, we would be happy to go one more time come Climax Control.”

He chews on the inside of his mouth, turning slightly away from the camera, thinking over all of the scenarios.

”It seems like even if I were to lose, I win. ”

He turns back to the camera, and tries, but fails, to keep the smile off of his face.

”The old me would have been okay with losing this match and waiting another couple weeks for a real one-on-one shot. The guy that lived in this alleyway would have accepted that without question, but I’ve already told you that I’m not that guy anymore. I am a newer, PURE version of myself and a good friend recently gave me some advice about this very topic. He taught me that the only match we can count on having, is the one right in front of us. I can’t guarantee that I get another shot in the near-future, or that I’m not going to get injured before I get back to the front of the line. This could be my one chance to be better than the person that called this alley his home. Therefore, I’m going to be the guy that wins this championship at Into The Void and goes on to break Equinox and Goth’s record with it. No more hot potato. No more waiting for an easier opportunity. I’ve been telling all of you that I was going to make things right, and it's about time that I follow through on that. I owe that to you. I owe that to SCW. I owe that to my friend, who had to watch his opportunity fade away while he sat on the couch broken. Most of all… I owe it to myself. On Sunday, I’m going to prove to the world that I’m not the guy that was okay with all of this.”

He takes one last look around the alley, disappointed in the person he was. When his eyes return to the viewers, he winks.

”And That’s What’s Up!”

Kris stands up, straightens his shirt, and then walks past the camera, out of the frame. The camera holds on the alley for a few seconds before fading to black and cutting off.

 
”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.

 Off-Camera
9 January 2017 2:06 PM
And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time...
‘Til touchdown brings back ‘round again to find...
I’m not the man they think I am at home...
Oh no, no, no…

”He may as well have tweeted out the lyrics to A Song To Say Goodbye like he did last time. It was every bit the same warning sign. Almost immediately, the whole picture snapped together. He wasn’t himself when he said that we were not needed at Climax Control. He went all the way to Canada to see a show from a company he could not possibly sign a contract with. He took someone dying to get back into the ring as a chaperone, so he could slip away instead of sitting in on the negotiations. It was not random in any way, shape or form, and I should have seen it coming. Come to think of it, I did see it coming. As guilty as he was, I have been lying to his face, to everyone on Twitter, for months. I cannot help but think if maybe I had gone a different route, I would not be sitting here.”

Light shines through the crack between the curtains. On the bed, sprawled out under the strewn around covers is the younger brother of Jet City. The scene inside the room is not like anything seen the day after some rockstar plays a big show in any movie, albeit without the naked girls passed out in uncomfortable, yet revealing positions. That much was actually a relief for Jason. Across the trashed room, sitting on top of a dresser filled with debris, is the older half of the SCW Tag Team Champions. He had been there for hours. He could have woken Kris up for a conversation that he would not have remembered. He could have dragged him off of the bed and into the shower like he had done so many times before. Kris could have been on a plane back to Los Angeles, back to Promises, again. The real reason that he not done so already, was because the older brother was contemplating being completely done with this process, and maybe a little guilty over it. Any moment though, Kris was going to wake up. It would be slow at first. Probably tossing back and forth for a few minutes as the sickness started to kick in and the effects started to wear off. The need will snap his eyes open. At that point, what he did last night will run through his head, and the guilt will set in. The panic of what would happen if everyone found out will take hold. Almost as quickly as that hits though, it will be gone, because the need will overcome him. It will motivate him to sit up, survey the damage of the room, and then decide he was too deep into it now. He would throw on the nearest clothes and be out the door looking for more. Under any other circumstance, this process would last a few days in complete silence. In the past there was nobody at home that would worry. There was no wife. There were no kids. Things were different, and that is the thought that would strike him as soon as he sat up in that bed.

Almost as if on cue, Kris rolls over in the bed, and both of his hands raise to his head. He brushes the matted hair away from his eyes, and scrubs at them like they are on fire and his fingers are water. His left hand falls from his face though, reaching down and tracing along the inside of his arm.

DENIAL.

Kris’ left hand falls from his face though, reaching down and tracing along the inside of his arm. His fingers find what he already knows to be there, and the reaction is not pleasant. He raises his foot up into the air, and then drops it down hard on the bed.

ANGER.

It was a childlike temper tantrum that he would be extremely embarrassed that anyone saw, under any other circumstance. Jason pulls his eyes from the crack in the curtain, and focuses on his brother, even though it was painful to do so. He wishes for a moment that they could trade eyes. From the way that Kris was raking at his own, they were exceptionally dry. Jason’s were glassy. Not to the point of producing tears, but slowly closing in on that threshold. Kris lowers his hands from his face, and smacks both hands down at his side, grabbing a handful of the bed sheets and squeezing with all of his strength. The disappointment in himself oozed out of him and all the way across the room to his older brother. However, moments passed, and the white-knuckled grip he has on the bed sheets fades away. He snaps up, and his eyes dart back and forth across the room. At first they skip over the man sitting in front of him in the shadows. They are looking for anything leftover from last night. It is only after they do not find what they are looking for that they freeze, wide, and panicked. For more than a few seconds, he forgets to breathe. Kris opens and closes his mouth several times, before his eyes start to fill, the dryness suddenly washed away. He raises his hands to cover his face, and shakes his head back and forth. If history taught him anything, he knew what was coming.

BARGAINING.

Kris: No, no, no, no, no, no, no…. No. Please don’t make me go back. I don’t want to go back again. I can’t go back again…. Please don’t make me.

He brushes at his eyes and and lowers his fingers to be beneath them, still covering his cheeks. Jason says nothing. The cold stare frozen on him. He does not blink. He does not let his face show the pain, or pity. He was going to allow his younger brother to go through the whole process on his own. When Jason did not threaten rehab, his mind would move on to the next thing, and the next. The punishment for his slip was not going to be anything that Jason said in this moment. It was going to be his own internal torment, that he undoubtedly had earned. When it snaps together that Jason was not going to fight him, his mind wanders, and the fear in his eyes turns to terror across the entirety of his face.

Kris: Heather….

It came out as a whispered statement, but Jason knew that it was more of a question. Had he told his wife? Even if he had not told her, did she know? Was she the reason that Jason was sitting in the room in front of him? Her name brings up other feelings though. The fact that she was pregnant with their daughter. The fact that Liz would almost assuredly pull his custody of their son. The entire life he had built, and all of the relationships he repaired would be in shambles. If the person in front of him pulled the plug, he would also be done professionally. Though that was the very least significant of all of the problems he runs through. He searches Jason for an answer, that is simply not there, no matter how badly he wants it to be. Kris gives up, and hunches forward, lowering his head.

DEPRESSION.

Kris: We’re done aren’t we. That’s why you’re here. It’s all over. Jet City. Heather. KJ. My life. Everything.

Jason does not look away, and waits for the bout of self-pity to be over. It was a guilt trip that Kris was reaching for. A subconscious plea for Jason to forget what he saw, even as he was seeing it, without daring to say those words. Jason licks his lips, and then presses them hard together. He moderates his breath, so not to catch Kris’ attention with the sound of it, and then exhales through his nose. He waits, silently until his brother’s head raises. This time his eyes do not dart around the room. There is no desperate plea. This time he is actually waiting for a response, because nothing that Jason can say can hurt more than what is kicking around in his head. At this point, a lecture is a relief. Anyone that has been an addict knows that relief is the only thing that they search for in the morning. He does not get the lecture he longs for, the one that makes him know his brother still cares enough to raise his voice. Instead what he gets is a single, emotionless word.

Jason: Why?

He had heard and studied every excuse Kris had made in the long eleven years that they had done this dance. He knew the inflection in his voice when he was lying. He knew how to see through the circle talk. He knew when the questions he asked were not answered with the full truth. There was no escape. It was meant to be prolonged agony via self-exploration.

Kris: It just kind of ha--

Jason holds up his hand, and shakes his head. The words immediately stop without another syllable.

Jason: Try again.

Kris looks down, his right hand curling into a fist. He brings his left hand up to his forehead, scratching at it before looking back up.

Kris: It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. I --

Again, Jason holds up a hand and shakes his head. He was not going to buy anything short of the exact thought that was running through his mind the moment that he broke down and threw away fifteen months of hard work.

Jason: I don’t have all day.

He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, and turns on the screen without looking down at it. His thumb hovers above the screen. Kris’ eyes dart down to it, the panic even more real. Any number that he dialed was going to be bad. However, there was a definite hierarchy of bad to unbearable. He opens his mouth a few times, shaking his head and trying to force the right answer.

Kris: I’m useless without it.

Kris’ eyes do not stray from the phone, and relief washes over his face when Jason clicks it off. He drops it on the dresser, and holds out his hand, rolling his index finger horizontally. It was a good start, but there was more that Kris was not saying, and now was the time to get it all out in the open.

Kris: Heather…. KJ…. The baby that’s not here yet…. Violet…. You… Jet City… SCW… KCW…. I can’t do it. I can’t be that person. One day, people are going to realize that I’m not the lie that I am selling. I am going to lose them all one at a time. I can see it on your face that you think the same thing. SCW shouldn’t even be on that list… they’ve already given up on me.

Jason laces his fingers together and rests them on his lap, leaning back against the wall behind the dresser. His eyebrows raise, but his eyes narrow. Most everything in the confession was to be expected. Jason was on board with all of it except the last bit. It was the part of the story that Kris did not know, so he was curious to see what his drug induced mind had filled in that blank with.

Jason: Why do you think they have given up on you?

There was a softness in his tone, and curiosity on his face that Kris picked up on immediately. At the moment, he would welcome any change to the stoney, colorless monotone he had gotten since regaining consciousness. This would typically be the time that Kris would devolve into bullshit. However, his current company was much smarter than he was, which made doing so pointless. Instead, he deflates a little further, and pushes himself away to lean against the headboard of the bed.

Kris: They only took me back because you were part of the package. They clearly don’t trust me if the refuse to even sanction us being on the show for a reason. All they let us do is fuck around backstage. When they do put us out there, we’re the punchline of the announce team. They don’t want us around, and they only let it happened because people know your name.

Jason nods and swallows hard. He turns his head, looking back at the crack in the curtains. On so many occasions, he had simply ripped opened the curtains and immediately started in on his brother while he was still out. On at least a couple of those, his brother had not woken up before he was out of breath, and without the willpower to be angry anymore. Kris picked up the deflection without missing a beat though. It was guilt that forced him to look away. Not the kind of guilt that comes from having your brother living in your shadow, but the kind of guilt that comes from actually doing something. The kind of guilt that Kris felt himself. The only question was, why? His eyes narrow, and he decides to go on offense.

Kris: What do you know that I don’t?

Jason takes another deep breath and brings both his hands up to run through his hair before choosing to finally let slip what needed to be said.

Jason: You’re right, but you’re also wrong. I told them that we needed to take it slow, all things considered. When they booked the Elders match, I went to them. I told them that we could do it, but it meant putting you on a short leash. Heather and I...

It was all starting to piece together for Kris. As soon as he said his wife’s name the whole picture was clear. He felt ridiculous that did not see it beforehand, but was so confident at how the story went that he could finish the confession for his brother. He had walked in on the tail end of Jason’s conversation with Heather, and knew his brother well enough to know what he would do.

Kris: ….in the kitchen, before High Stakes. You two were talking, and you said it was about an affair because there was no way I got more offended by that than I would have you talking about this. She was worried, so you taunted her until she spilled it. You promised to keep an eye on me, but it wasn’t enough….”

He pauses, and then makes a slight edit to his words.

Kris: Well, it was enough for her, but not for you. She’s trusting, and she’s only seen this twice. You knew that you couldn’t handle it by yourself.

He pauses to chuckle lightly. It made so much sense. Christian and Mark had never acted like this towards him before. They knew he had problems, but there was never an issue as long as he was on the straight and narrow.

Kris: You’ve always kept an eye on me, but we have had this conversation a few dozen times anyways. So you went to management and told them that we would do the title match, but they needed to lay off of me. They needed to let me come to terms with the stress of being back on tour, traveling, being away from my safety net and my routine. We couldn’t be in the middle of the ring every week because it would all be too much and I would backslide. You did this....

The last comment forces Jason’s eyes back across the room to his brother. There is a fire in them that has been anything-but-inconspicuously absent. Kris holds up both hands and backtracks quickly.

Kris: Okay, that was a little far. You played a part though. It’s because of what you did that caused us to be the punchline. It was your trying to protect me that threw me out to the wolves. Everything that anyone has said about us being a joke, or protected, was because of what you did.

After rephrasing, there was no more backpedaling. His voice raises with each word until he is practically yelling by the time he finishes. He is breathing heavily, and pushes the blankets to the side, raising out of the bed. He crosses the room, coming to the end of the bed, two feet from his brother, and levels his index finger at him.

Kris: You may not have done the whole thing, but you tipped the balance. You stacked the deck against me. It was only a matter of time before this happened.

Jason pushes himself off of the dresser, looking at the floor of the hotel room. He crosses the small distance between them, and puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder. For a moment, Kris thinks he has won, but that split second is gone almost as soon as the thought pops back into his mind. Jason raises his lowered arm so quickly Kris’ current reflexes are no match to stop it. He catches a forearm in the throat as Jason’s other hand wrenches on his shoulder, turning Kris so his back is against the wall alongside the bed. Using his forearm at his brother’s throat, and no other driving force, Jason pushes forward, slamming his brother against the wall and applying pressure to cut off his air supply. He leans in, his voice barely above a whisper, but nowhere in the vicinity of calm.

Jason: You are going to go take a shower while I clean this place up. We are then going to the airport, directly back to LA where you are going to tell your wife everything, and hope to God that she doesn’t boot you out of your own apartment. Then, and only then, are the three of us going to sit down and talk about whether or not you’re going to be allowed to continue being on the road or if you’re headed back to rehab for as long as I can legally keep you there.

He backs his forearm off of Kris’ throat long enough for him to draw a couple of breaths. He pulls his head back to study his eyes, and Kris gives a silent nod of agreement. He knew better than to attempt to talk.

Jason: Either way, you had better come up with exactly what it is you plan to tell your wife, who is probably already pissed off at you for having the audacity to shamelessly flirt with a girl previously involved with Kaden. A girl that you played a role in fucking up a friendship with Kaden. That’s too close to home, and you know it.

Jason offers his brother a cheap smile, and Kris’ eyes fall away. He adds a second nod, knowing that he was definitely over the line there. However, just when Kris was getting used to breathing again, and thought that the worst was over, Jason leans in tighter than before, to the threshold of breaking his brother’s larynx. His voice is more hostile than anything Kris had ever heard directed at him, and it draws memories of their childhood to the forefront of his mind.

Jason: And the next time you ever blame me for one of your fuck ups, there will not be a time after next, because you’ll be in a wheelchair eating through a straw for the rest of your life, with nobody around you willing to shoot you up. Do you understand?

ACCEPTANCE.

Unable to move his head, Kris tracks his eyes from Jason’s forehead, down to his chin, and then back again, nodding with them instead of his head. He blinks twice, and Jason lowers his arm, and backs away, straightening his jacket. He rolls his shoulders, easing the tension,  and then pats his younger brother on the shoulder.

Jason: Get moving…. And get to praying that Heather can handle this better than me.

Kris does not open his mouth, but nods. He offers his brother a smile that he has to summon every ounce of strength to force onto his face. Without a retort, he slides down the wall, past his brother, and then disappears into the bathroom. Jason turns to the room, accessing the damage in his head before starting to do his best to clean it up.



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



On-Camera

The scene opens on Jason Halich standing outside. The camera pans around him to show a vineyard, and a house that long term SCW fans recognize as familiar but cannot quite place at first. The thing that snaps it all together, is the red hoodie that Jason has zipped all the way up to his chin. The hood of it is pulled up over his head, and his hands are buried in the front pockets.

"As you can see, I am all alone today. It seemed kind of fitting that I come here, being that this was the place where it all started for Kris. I figure if he could not be here in person, he could be here in spirit."

He smiles genuinely, and lets out a slight chuckle. In the pause though, he raises a hand to calm the fans with objections to his assertion.

"Before you all get up in arms, I know very well that Kris' first promos for this company were not from this spot. I also know when he popped up, he was never dressed like this. To the people that choose to point that out, I choose to point out this fact: before Kris donned this outfit, became a Nobody, and started cutting promos from this very spot, he was nothing in this company. He was a guy that went on losing streaks for months before disappearing. Only to reappear later, lose some more matches, and disappear again. It was from this spot that he drew a line in the stand and declared that he was tired of being in my shadow. He embraced being a Nobody. He was done playing by the rules that others made up. It was right here, that his run to the SCW Internet Championship began. This was the beginning."

He starts to walk, and the camera pauses for a few steps before following at his side. The vineyard behind him is kind of bare. It was a down season, and everything had already been harvested.

"People have been led to believe that I am something more than I am. I have heard my brother talk about me from the first time that he stepped into a ring. I have seen the comments that people made to him about me time and time again. For four long years, I have been absolutely silent about it. The fact of the matter is, he didn't need me fighting his battles, and by jumping in, I would have only made the situation worse. He needed to push through it on his own, and cut his own path. Today, the differences between the way we handle things are pretty noticeable. We get up to some pretty outlandish things, and set up punchlines for each other when we are together, but the ones of you that follow us on Twitter or talk to us separately know that we are very different people. I sat back, because I wanted my brother to come into his own without my guiding hand. In doing so, I got to watch him become his own man, and most days I find myself being insanely proud of that person, despite how many of you hate him."

Jason continues to walk, turning a slight curve with the road. The scene behind them changes a little with the turn, as the space between the fields are filled with small bushes, trees, and flowers that are all neatly landscaped.

"I sat back for so long, and I let the kid grow into someone that could hold his own on a microphone and in petty arguments all on his own. He could always handle himself in a ring. We made sure of that from the very beginning. What people don't know is that this whole lifestyle was his idea, and his dream. However, his path had to go somewhere different first, and so I carried on as a way to make sure his dream didn't die. All of that changed when Jet City was born though. Since we were together, the protectiveness that I had for him as a person bled over into professional matters. What I am realizing now is that he didn't need me to do so, and never did."

He shrugs, and reluctantly accepts responsibility for something that he had been denying for months.

"The reason that you have not seen Jet City as much as all of you thought that you would, is because of me. I didn't think that the kid could handle being sober, part of a family, and traveling at the same time. To be fair, he has proven that he couldn't handle that over and over again in the past. I didn't trust that he could balance it all, so I told everyone in a position of power in SCW that he needed to take it easy. We got the title match, and we won. I was just as surprised as everyone of you were, but I was also terrified of what it meant. That's where I fucked that up and shorted all of you as a champion. I betrayed the trust of my tag team partner by treating him like he was my kid brother."

He stops, and the camera moves around him before stopping in front of him.

"Starting now, all of that changes. If we're going to move forward in SCW, it is going to be as equals, not as me babysitting someone I look at as a child. If we are going to beat Dmitri and James, I can't be looking over my shoulder the whole time to make sure that he is okay. I can't be running to management and telling them to take it easy. I can't be fighting his battles. For the first time since the start of Jet City, I need to take a step back and let the kid do his thing the way that he always has in SCW. The fact is, he was a champion here long before I came into the picture. He learned how to do this shit without me, and I have to keep letting him do that. I need to take the kid off of his leash, and let him go after that redemption that he came back to find. For Kris, this was about coming back to a company that never did him wrong, and making up for everything he pissed away. For me, this was about crossing off the last thing on my list that I needed to do before I could retire happy. Kris is on the rise, and for as long as he carries me through holding these titles, I am going to do everything I can to enjoy the ride. When the curtains close on Jet City, they close on me, and I take my final bow. I get to do that because of the talent, hard work, and skill that he has. The truth of the matter is, I never could have done this without him."

He looks down, and then pulls the zipper on the hoodie down, before shrugging it off of his shoulders and throwing it off camera.

"I'm not a Nobody. That was his path. Honestly, I am a little jealous that I wasn't involved with it, because he went from a kid that was overlooked, to one that was main eventing Climax Control with a Hall of Famer like Goth. Like I said, this dream was his, and that was probably the closest he has gotten to being on top of the world. On the other hand, that night, nor the night of Inception II is a peak, or ending, for Kris, it is just a chapter in the middle of the book. The Unholy Alliance is going to tell you that it all ends in two weeks. They are going to tell you that we didn't earn these titles, and that we have done nothing worth allowing us to keep them a second longer. They will promise victory, and discount everything that has happened since October. My only hope is that they watch this video before they do, so that they know that the blame rests solely on my shoulders. I also hope, that after they realize that, they come to the one conclusion that matters."

He smirks.

As Jet City, we haven't lost. Whether here, or either of the other places we signed. As of today, I am letting Kris off of the leash to do things the way that he has done for his whole career. That should scare both of the people in this match that don't call themselves Jet City, because it means Kris gets to be the guy that beat Goth. That beat Kain. That skyrocketed so fast that he went from a punchline to a champion in a matter of a couple of months. The guy that turned a losing streak that lasted months into a winning streak that took him to the Internet Championship. I am proud of my little brother, and all of you should be too. Unless you are on the opposite side of the ring from us. Then you should just be scared."

Jason smiles, taking a few steps towards the camera and raising his arm in stereotypical Kris fashion and putting it over the lens of the camera, killing the feed.

 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.

 The scene opens with a small auditorium, almost full to capacity. Most of the chairs in front of the stage are filled with fans, with only the front row filled with individuals in suits, and carrying legal pads to write down comments. The house lights start to dim, and stage lights come up, shining light on the two podiums that are on the stage. Through the PA system of the room crackles a little, and then the booming voice of Jason Halich, giving his best impression of an action movie voice over guy comes through.

Jason: “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, bitches and hoes, crackers and dark chocolates, and anyone in between….”

The sound of a slap can be heard through the speakers, followed by the sound of a scuffle. The microphone being used makes the shuffling sound of two people fighting over it; before Jason’s poor impression is replaced by Kris’ attempt.

Kris: “In two weeks’ time, our heroes, the dynamic duo known as Jet City, will step into the Galen Center, in beautiful Los Angeles, California to challenge Jon “Pillsbury” Dough and Eyesnsane for the SCW Tag Team Championships...”

The microphone again changes hands, and Kris’ voice is replaced with Jason’s.

Jason: “So… without further ado, we give you, the multi-time world champion “Jack of Hearts” Jason Halich, and the semi-successf---”

Much like the first time the microphone changed hands, Jason’s voice cuts off and there seems to be a struggle. Kris again wins the battle, and with it, the ability to introduce himself.

Kris: “The former SCW Internet Champion and the only half of the team to actually win an SCW match in his career! He is “The Accident” Kris Halich!”

The two voices join together now, on the same page for just a single moment.

Jason & Kris: “WE ARE!”

The fans in attendance know this part, and chime in at the same time as Kris goes solo with their own animated screams.

Kris: “Jet!”

Following that, the deeper voice of the older brother joins the fans for the next line.

Jason: “City!”

The two brothers step out from behind the curtain at the back of the stage, each accompanied by their significant others. Kris is dressed in a ridiculous zebra striped suit and bowtie, but the smile on his face and “Queen’s wave” shows that the wardrobe choice was entirely intentionally insane. Jason’s was equally bizarre, coming out in a Leopard print suit that severely clashes with absolutely everything in the room. However, the eyes of most everyone in the room zeroed in on the two women, half expecting them to be dressed as eye candy, and seeming entirely confused to see them dressed in jeans and matching black hoodies, of which Heather’s reads “Jet!” and Jules’ reads “City”, matching them to the brother that they accompany. The four of them pause on the stage, for photos that everyone in attendance struggles to steady their cameras to take. The laughter in the room is exactly what the duo had been hoping for. The two women depart the stage, taking seats at a table, with their backs to the crowd. Two cameras are set up behind them, and are linked to two screens behind the podiums. Jason and Kris both move to the one on the left side of the stage, whereas the one on the right stays empty.

Jason: “First of all we would like to apologize on behalf of our opponents, The Members of the Elders. They extend their apologies for not being able to attend this afternoon.”

Kris leans into the microphone, and clarifies his brother’s statement.

Kris: “Of course, it is probably our fault for forgetting to invite them until two minutes ago.”

Jason kind of gives his brother a shove out of the way, to take control over the microphone again, extending further clarification.

Jason: “Via text message…”

It is Kris’ turn to return the shove, and he finishes the statement, delivering the punchline that actually draws the laugh they were setting up from the crowd.

Kris: “And to be honest we turned off our phones after, so we are totally not even sure if they responded, nor do we actually care. See, we have gathered here today to--”

Jason bumps Kris away from the microphone in mid-sentence, but picks up exactly where his brother left off.

Jason: “...to talk to all of you about the state of Jet City. It was just two weeks ago when I called my younger brother, and convinced him to come out of his early, pathetic excuse for retirement in order to do one thing.”

Kris does not even try to hide the shove, nor do so nicely, as he jabs both of his hands into his brother’s near side shoulder and chest, sending him off balance and back a few feet, away from the podium.

Kris: “What my brother is trying say is that he was finally considering leaving his house after a couple of years of self-pity and depression, but realized he was much too old to mount a comeback all by himself. Instead, he knew that the only way that he was going to be a success was to find a young, talented, able-bodied…”

Jason now returns the shove from his brother with equal force, but being that he was the larger and taller of the two, doing so sends Kris stumbling to the center of the stage, and he falls down to a single knee. He gets up, irate, and points a finger at his brother.

Kris: “You are a spotlight stealing dick!”

Jason steps away from the podium and comes face-to-face with his brother, the two now screaming, without need for a microphone for the entire room full of people to understand them.

Jason: “To say you are talented is an insult to talented people like me!”

Kris was not one to back down from a fight though.

Kris: “Talented like never having defended any of the handfuls of titles you ever won!”

Jason gasps, but at this point the people in attendance can tell that the fight is totally staged, as Jason issues Kris an open-handed slap that does not connect at all, yet the resounding sound is heard as Kris claps his hands and turns away.

Jason: “At least I can say that I have won more than one, and even at that, more prestigious than an ‘Internet Championship’ whatever that is.”

Kris returns an equally fake slap, and Jason falls back into the podium. Kris brushes the front of his suit off and takes a step towards the podium.

Kris: “Well there is only one way to settle all of this!”

He reaches out to the Jet City sign and rips it in half, before sticking the “City” sign back to the podium. He takes a few steps away, removing the sign for The Members of the Elders, and sticking the “Jet” half of the sign to the podium, gaining wide cheers from the fans.

Jason: “We will just have to see about that!”

The crowd is applauding both men for the show, but Kris and Jason ignore them, their words coming through microphones.

Kris: “Oh, we’ll see!”

Jason nods in agreement, but refuses to let his brother to get the last word.

Jason: “I guess the only thing left to do, is see!”

Finally, both women behind the moderator’s table speak into their microphones at the same time, yelling at their respective brother in unison.

Heather & Jules: “Shut up!”

Almost as if being yelled at by angry parents, both men slam their mouths shut and look down at the podiums. The two girls look at each other smiling, and chatter back and forth with one another about how awesome it was that they were almost perfectly harmonized in their command. Both brothers, look up from the podium slightly, only raising their heads high enough so that their eyes can meet the gaze of the women in front of them.

Jason & Kris: “Sorry….”

They sounded exceptionally melancholy, and at least half of the members of the crowd seem to legitimately buy their apology. Jules and Heather talk over what they are going to do in order to get the event back on track, before agreeing on the order of questions. Jules turns to her microphone, while Heather sits back in her chair slightly.

Jules: “The first question of the night is for Jason and comes from…”

She points behind her, to the crowd, without turning to actually locate the individual she references.

Jules: “One of those guys… Jason, with your brother’s long history in the company, none of it being particularly positive, why would you bother trusting that he is going to be able to pull himself together long enough to get the job done at High Stakes against two men that only won the titles a little more than two weeks ago.”

Jason smiles widely, and nods to Jules in approval of her perfect delivery of the question.

Jason: “I can answer that question in three short, easy-to-follow points. Firstly, I would like to thank you for your question and say that despite the lack of revealing clothing you decided to wear this evening, you look absolutely delicious. Secondly, there are only two people in this world that are capable of keeping my brother in line, and only one of them has a penis… I think.”

He looks back and forth between Kris and Heather for confirmation, and both give him a subtle nod.

Jason: “That individual is me. I have taken care of this man child for all 27 years of his life, and will likely continue to do so long after we leave this business. If anyone can get the best of the best out of him inside a ring, that person is me. Finally, the team of Jet City is not completely new. Before we both left the business for a while, we competed in a couple of tag team matches in small promotions, and we have yet to lose a match as a team. I think that makes us more than capable of handling a team that is fresh into their championship run.”

The response gathers light applause from the audience that dies out pretty quickly. Heather does not allow time to be wasted before getting to the next question.

Heather: “Our next question comes to us from the user @DefinitelyNotKrisMakingUpFakeQuestions on Twitter, which seems like an unnaturally long, but legitimate, Twitter handle. The question reads: Kris, it is a widely known fact that your brother is, indeed, old as shit. Are you concerned that maybe he has lost a step, or could possibly break a hip during your match?”

This time the crowd becomes a little more unhinged as Jason glares across the stage at Kris. He holds up his index finger, and mouths the words, “That is one” to Kris before the younger brother even attempts to answer the question. Once he starts though, it is obvious that he is going to take a much different approach than his brother.

Kris: “I could take the diplomatic approach and go step by step, and lay out some bullshit pretty language in an attempt to only partially answer the question. The problem is, I am not a politician, and that seems like a lot of wasted effort. What I can say is my brother is by no means past his prime. Granted, he is a little older, and a little slower than I am when it comes to getting around the ring, but he is more than talented enough, and his technical skills are sharp enough, that things like that do not put the team at a disadvantage. When we need to take the tempo up a notch that is when I catch the tag and get things moving. When we need to catch a breath and start dismantling body parts, we put let the veteran do his thing. Tag teams are about balance, and we have that pretty much down to a science.”

Again, a light bit of applause comes from the crowd, slightly more powerful than the response given to Jason’s answer. Kris taunts his brother by licking the end of his index finger before drawing a tally mark in the air, giving himself the first round win. Jules makes sure that his celebrating is only momentary though, turning the attention back to Jason.

Jules: “Jason, you are making a debut in SCW, in a title match no less. How are you handling the added pressure involved in not having a few matches to get your form back before being thrown into the fire?”

Kris rests both of his elbows on the podium, and rests his chin in the palms of his hands, his fingers outstretched onto his cheeks and tapping lightly. His eyes widen, and he stares at his brother in a way that makes everyone a little uncomfortable, in an attempt to throw him off his game.

Jason: “Now, I do not expect everyone here today, or even everyone watching SCW programming to be familiar with my history. In addition, it would be uncharacteristically cocky of me to name specific names and times of accomplishments from my past. However, what I will say is that this is not the first time that I will be stepping into a company for a first time, and competing for a title when the bell rings. Four years ago, I did just that, and I walked out victorious. From that moment, I went on to hold that title for longer than anyone before or after me, and defend it more times than anyone in company history. My asshole tag team partner made mention, incorrectly, that I had never successfully defended any of my previous championships, so I am happy to have been afforded the opportunity to correct the error. We can hardly judge him though, as substance abuse has destroyed most of his memory.”

The fans do not applaud or cheer this time. Instead, most collectively yells out “Ohhh!!!” in response to the dig at Kris. The younger of the two brothers sits up from the podium, and the buffoonery has faded from his expression. It is his turn to point at his brother, and then hold up an index finger, signifying that the comment was his brother’s first strike, making them even. He turns the glare from Jason to Heather, who speaks up with the next question.

Heather: “Kris, you have had success in SCW, but never at High Stakes events. In fact, you have never even had a match at the venue, despite appearing. In fact, it could be argued that, for the majority of all of the time you have spent in SCW, you have not done anything noteworthy. In your first few runs, you attempted, and were unsuccessful in winning the Roulette Championship. Finally, you won the Internet Championship, but lost it a short time later and then left the company citing hatred of the travel schedule. As a man with a wife, child, and child on the way, is it really worth it to return now?”

Jason holds his hand over his mouth to cover the fact that his jaw dropped open in response to the question. Kris looks absolutely dumbfounded, and attempts to form an answer, before shaking the question off momentarily.

Kris: “May I ask who sent in this question?”

Heather shakes her head nonchalantly.

Heather: “You may not.”

Jason actually has to turn away from the cameras to hide his laughter at the exchange between husband and wife. Both brothers focus on Jules, who leans back in her seat a little, and points a finger of blame at Heather, hoping the woman did not see her do so. Kris’ eyes dart back and forth across the stage, trying to put together an answer to a question that they had clearly not planned for. He looks up at Heather, who gives him nothing but a blank stare, that she internally struggles to maintain, but it does not outwardly show.

Kris: “In all honesty, I do not think that my personal life is--”

Jason finally manages to regain his composure and learns into the microphone, joining the attack on his brother by cutting him off.  

Jason: “Do not pussy out, man! The fans deserve an answer to the hard hitting questions!”

Kris opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking from Heather, to his podium, and then to Jason. He holds up two fingers to his brother now, signifying a second strike, and increased frustration.

Kris: “When I left this company the last time, I did not have anyone in my life that was important enough to bounce decisions of this magnitude off of. I was impulsive and reckless in everything that I did. Because of that, my win/loss record is not great. I would show up under the influence of substance. Even when I was sober, I would phone in my performances in order to simply collect a paycheck and leave. I was not serious about this career choice, I just wanted the money. The problems that I had, at the time, made traveling around the world inconvenient. As I have mentioned, more than once, I have come back now to make those things up to this company, the people on the roster, and the fans, all of whom deserved better. However, if anyone thinks that I did so without speaking to both the mother of my child and my beautiful, pregnant wife, then they are surely mistaken. I would not be standing on this stage without her blessing and support.”

The fan reaction to this answer is unmistakably the loudest thus far in debate. Kris comes out from behind the podium and actually leaps off of the stage, planting a kiss on his wife’s cheek and taking a bow before the crowd who seem pleased at the way he dug himself out of a pretty deep hole. Jason even puts his hands together, and gives his brother a congratulatory nod. Upon reaching his podium again, Kris holds his hand out to the crowd, waving for them to quiet down so the event can move on. Once they do, Jules clears her throat, and get Jason’s attention.

Jules: “Jason, while your brother’s personal battles have always been in the public eye, yours have never been addressed by the media. You have left this business a handful of times as well. The ways that you have done so have not exactly been any better than your brother. For instance, you once faked a car accident in order to get out of a contract. You suffered tragedy in your personal life which led to stepping away for a couple of years. Most recently, you started a company, which failed miserably, and you left the public eye to avoid association with now incarcerated members of the company. Can anybody actually trust that you are here for the long run, being that you do not have the same motivation for redemption that your brother does?”
It is Kris’ turn to cover his mouth, and Jason’s turn to be blindsided. He raises his left hand to his chest and exhales heavily, acting as if he was stabbed by her words. He is able to downplay his shock a lot better than his brother was, and finds an answer a lot more quickly as well.

Jason: “I do not have the motivation to fix my mistakes, because I simply do not make mistakes when it comes to this business.”

Jason pauses for a second, allowing the confidence in his words to sink it. It does not get the chance though, as Kris interjects.

Kris: “Bullshit!”

Kris tries to cover the accusation as a cough, and even goes as far as to slap his chest a few times with one hand while covering his mouth with the other. He shakes his head and tries to brush it off as nothing.

Kris: “I am so sorry. I had a tickle in the back of my throat… or something.”

Jason tries to set his brother on fire with his gaze and is disappointed when Kris does not burst into flames. Instead, he settles for holding up two fingers and then pointing at his brother, making them even once again. He turns his gaze away from Kris and back to the crowd, not allowing the distraction to derail his answer.

Jason: “The car wreck happened, but was exaggerated to get myself and my fiancée at the time out of our contracts. I experienced the death of my daughter shortly after, and that derailed any thoughts of a comeback. Then, I invested my money in a project with a tone of potential, only to have a thug and criminal show his true colors when it was found that he was manipulating everything in front of, and behind the cameras in order to benefit himself. In all of those situations, leaving the public eye was for the best. For one reason or another, it needed to be done. Whether that was to pursue a relationship, grieve for the loss of a child, or distance myself from a criminal investigation, it needed to be done. Now that all of those situations are resolved, I am back to do the thing I want to do most in the world. If something important enough comes along, would it create an issue? Maybe. I refuse to promise more than I can deliver. What I can say is, I do not foresee it happening, and I think SCW is stuck with me for a long time.”

Jason waits for some kind of applause to radiate through the crowd, but gets a complete lack of response. The individuals in the front row of the auditorium are scribbling down notes on their pads of paper, now that a legitimate question had been asked. Heather turned slightly in her chair, not wanting to infringe on them getting the information down, but not wanting to hold up the show.

Heather: “Kris, I think we can all agree that we have asked some hard hitting questions, but mostly have chosen to keep it light. What we have not yet brought up, is the subject of The Members of the Elders, or at least not directly. Do you have a message you want to relay to them?”

Kris nods a few times, and brushes his index finger across his bottom lip, trying to organize his thoughts.

Kris: “I think that I can say a few words, sure. All joking and whatnot aside, these two are probably pretty formidable. The Doughboy is a three time tag team champion, and I am pretty sure that is with three different partners. In everything that I have seen, the guy probably forgotten more about technical wrestling than I will ever spend time learning. Granted, I have an excuse now. I wouldn’t want to step on Jason’s toes or turn our match into a constant one-up battle. Our style works because we are so very different. Eyesnsane just had a parking lot brawl match. Now, the dude may have not walked out of it with a victory, but he also did not get his ass handed to him. The guy held his own in the match, and quite honestly fights a lot like me. So we have equal match ups, regardless of which of our opponents is legal. On the other hand, I think that the opposite is also true, and that we have the advantage in the mismatches. One thing is certain though, as good as Dough might be in tag team situations, with a handful of partners, my brother and I have been working and training together since we were teenagers. I think that gives us an edge.”

There is light chatter about Kris’ comments in the crowd, and the two brothers share a glance at each other, nodding. Jason leans forward into his microphone and asks Jules a question for once.

Jason: “I have something that I would like to add, if possible? Unless you had another question.”

Jules: “Well I did have another question, but it was exactly the same one we asked Kris, so go ahead.”

Jason rubs his palms together over top of the podium, and then pulls his microphone off of the podium, holding it up to his lips. He steps around to center stage, and looks out to the crowd.

Jason: “In the spirit of total transparency, I think we can all agree that this whole shtick up here was meant to be more fun and light spirited than anything else. Sure, our significant others have tossed to hard questions at us, but even our responses and efforts have been to keep you guys entertained. Mr. Pillsbury, Jon Dough, seems to have a similar outlook on his craft. He is good at what he does, but wins and losses do not matter to him. Eyesnsane, I am not entirely sure about. There is significantly less information about him available to us, or maybe I am just not digging deep enough. The main thing that I want to get across is that despite the way that we have acted, The Members of the Elders should not make the mistake of thinking that we are taking this whole thing lightly. We are very serious about this match, and every other one that we are going to be involved in with this company. We do not come in, and do things halfway.”

Jason pauses and turns to his brother, to mimics him in ripping the microphone off of the stand and coming to the center of the stage.

Kris: “I have echoed the same kind of statement every time I have spoken about a return. I understand that I am notoriously flakey and unfocused so maybe when the words come out of my mouth; everyone blows them off, which is the reason that I am going to have to keep repeating them over and over again. I care about people putting on a great show. I care about the product. I care about proving myself. Not very many people know, given my brother’s level of success as compared to my own, but this was never his dream or his goal. This was never his plan. This life was something that I wanted since before I was old enough to make it a reality. I wanted to be the one in training every day, and he got dragged along for the ride. When I went down a bad path, he kept pushing to keep that dream alive for me. Now we are here, together, so that I can take it back for myself.”

Jason shakes his head and dismisses the last part of what his brother says.

Jason: “You have a lot more work before you climb out of my shadow. You may have been the one to conceive the idea, but I made it the reality that we live in today.”

Kris: “I think that---”

Jason reaches over and slaps the top of the microphone, which forces it to slide out of Kris’ hand.

Jason: “Nobody cares!”

It hits the stage hard, and then rolls forward before falling off of the stage and onto the moderators’ table. Jules quickly scoops it up, and pulls it close to her chest, shaking her head and denying Kris when he asks for it back.

Jason: “The path that we are going to carve through SCW is not one of individual notoriety or accomplishment. Jet City is not some partnership to arbitrarily be thrown away when we feel it is time to rise above the group and make a run as individuals. We have done that. We have been champions in the past. The thing that we have never done, but the thing that we are going to do in a little over a week, is win a championship together. SCW has given us the opportunity to do just that. We are not going to let them down. You may not exactly be cheering for us, often times you will probably boo us, but one thing that will never be, is bored by us.”

The people in the crowd actually start to rise up out of their chairs, in applause. Kris takes an exaggerated bow in gratitude at the ovation, and holds his hand out for Jason to hand him the microphone. Jason turns it over, waving to everyone in the crowd.

Kris: “Now we just have a couple of things we have to do before getting out of here, and if we could have your help doing so it would make us so very happy, what do you say?”

Crowd: “Let’s do this!”

They have prompted them to do deliver the line more than a handful of times before. Jason takes a step closer to his brother and puts his arm around his shoulders so that they can both speak into the microphone at the same time.

Kris & Jason: “WE ARE!”

Kris lowers the microphone and they separate. They move to opposite sides of the stage and yell out, accompanied by the crowd.

Kris: “JET!”

Jason: “CITY!”

Kris tosses the microphone underhanded to his brother, who raises it without hesitation. Almost instinctively, the fans quiet, knowing the event is coming to an end and knowing exactly what the next words out of Jason’s mouth are going to be.

Jason: “And for any of you that are fans of The Members of the Elders, you might want to go ahead and phone a ride home for them from the Galen Center, because they are going to need it.”

He tosses the microphone back to his brother, who holds it up.

Kris: “Someone call the ambulance! There’s gonna be an Accident!”