The day in Reykjavík, the largest city and capital of the nation of Iceland was slowly succumbing to night as dusk slowly took over the heavens above at the early hour of four in the afternoon. Just as the nation would go through what has come to be known as twenty four hour daylight throughout the months of May through July where the sun does not set for days at a time. Whereas now in these the coldest of months of December through January, the daylight hours now are only four to five hours long before twilight takes its place. The sun has just about finished its descent down across the horizon, blanketed by the cloudy skies above that had been gifting the world below with the white cheer of winter for days on end, bringing with it the miracle of a white Christmas that those the world over dream of. (Thank you, Bing Crosby!) Once Sol had completed her journey, driving the Sun on its course through the sky, she was later embraced by her brother, Mani who was worshiped as the Moon. He then gave the world the night, with the deep purple hues of the heavens above replacing the cool blue of his sister. The stars dominated and delighted, even with the lights of the city below, as the Moon now started its own journey.

That was when the lone raven was spotted flying high above, its black body barely visible in the night sky save for the glistening effect the light of the stars and moon gave off of its sleek, black feathers. And although it was quite common for ravens to be seen in these cold months as the bird was to winter and cold weather unlike any other, it was more unusual to see one alone when in search of food. Yet even when this lone raven passed over the streets, it all but ignored the lone mouse down below, here and there as they foraged for food of its own.

The raven flew even past the city lights where the celebrations for the upcoming holiday were in full force, celebrated here in Iceland like nowhere else on earth. The avian flew over children playing in the gathered snow, above adult men and women who hurried to and fro, buying last minute gifts for friends and loved ones. It did not so much as pause or circle overhead as it passed over the sweet melodies of those within the hallowed church halls below as they gathered to celebrate Him. No, this raven in particular had a specific goal, as these birds were known for. In ancient tales, these birds were known as wise, all-knowing messengers to the gods. Two in particular, Huginn (thought) and Munnin (memory) would make their journey across the earth, gathering information and then sharing it with the All-Father Odin back in Asgard.

The raven had left behind the city limits and flew toward the houses beyond, of which were few and far between. Trees dominated the borders of this quaint and old world style neighborhood, where the houses within the trees’ embrace were more of the traditional sort; mostly fashioned in turf and known appropriately as ‘turf houses’. The raven focused on one such house in particular, a family home of sorts. It fluttered down and landed on one of the many bare branches that were void of foliage in the cold, winter months. It watched as the car pulled slowly into the drive and it elicited a soft ‘kraa’ sound as its black eyes watched…

Reykjavík, Iceland -
December 20, 2022

Whoever it was that said you can’t go home again was obviously either unloved or never made more than a feeble attempt to celebrate the holidays. Because that was, in fact, where we were at this very moment, outside of the house where Kristjan (Fenris) and Aron Baltasarsson - along with their three sisters and parents, grew up. The deep blue Kia Rio had pulled into the drive of the homestead and slowed to a crawl before ultimately stopping, albeit with the engine remaining on.

Behind the wheel, Kristjan gave pause in an uncharacteristic manner as his cobalt blue eyes stared ahead at the two-level house he had known from the first memory of his childhood. Under most circumstances, Aron and Kristjan would have had their entire family flown from Iceland to where they lived in Las Vegas for the Christmas holiday that spanned from December 25 throughout the beginning of January, but because of commitments on the part of their sisters, that was not the case this year. Kristjan and Aron’s parents were uncomfortable of the thought of traveling to America and leaving their daughters behind to spend Christmas without them, when of all people, David Shepherd came up with the obvious solution of taking advantage of the winter break SCW was gifting all of its staff and stars alike by traveling to Iceland themselves. That way everybody would be together for Christmas; even Esther and Andrey would be joining them for a couple of days before returning home to be with Gerald and Mavis; an option David would not so much as entertain.

It was the perfect solution. Of course, that was before…

“So…” Fenris turned in the driver’s seat to his lone passenger, his once boyfriend and now husband, David Shepherd who was looking even more somber than Kristjan himself felt inside. Kristjan asked, “Are you ready?”

David never took his eyes off of the house, as if he were avoiding laying eyes on the love of his life. He drew in a deep breath, gently exhaling through his nose before answering the question in an almost monotone voice, “About as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Just remember,” Kristjan playfully chided his man. “This was your idea.”

“I’m aware of that.” David said in a tone of voice that somehow reminded Kristjan of David’s own father Gerald; strength coupled by a touch of acidity. David had been acting standoffish, almost distant with him for the past couple of days without any offered explanation. And whenever Kristjan tried to pry out of him what was wrong, David practically blew the question off. Or he simply never acknowledged being asked.

David then finally turned his full and undivided attention to the man to his left and admitted, “But you can hardly blame me given recent events.”

“What are you talking about?” Kristjan asked, his brow creasing into a frown that was more confusion than it was annoyance or anger.

David answered silently by holding up his left hand, and the answer was then obvious by the sleekly carved ring on his marriage finger, a silent testament to the ‘mistake” that the two men had indulged in only recently when the drunken pair had mistakenly presumed one of those Elvis churches on the Vegas Strip was just another tourist trap - only to discover quite the opposite after.

David then continued, “Then there’s last year and my first trip to Iceland…” To which Kristjan turned away from David and his eyes were once again on his childhood home. He remembered that memory from a year ago vividly and without a trace of fondness. How could he? David had been raised in such an emotionally abusive household that the thought of a loving one such as what Kristjan grew up within was somehow foreign - alien - to him. The two men stood right here where the car they sat inside was parked, before David suffered a panic attack and fled all the way back to the States, leaving Kristjan heartbroken and greatly embarrassed.

To his point, Kristjan acknowledged, “You more than made up for that since.”

“Maybe.” David barely conceded before he unfastened his seat belt, further stating, “I’m just not making the best of impressions with your family.”

To this, Kristjan extended a hand to better offer David a bit of comfort, but just like that, an emotional switch had turned and David all but avoided his touch and his expression darkened as he pushed the passenger door open and moved around to the trunk where they had stowed their luggage away. Kristjan frowned at this sudden behavioral change, and he too climbed out of the car, watching David move around to the open trunk before moving along to join him and lend a hand at retrieving their belongings.

“What’s going on, David?”

David set two suitcases down before looking up at his now-husband while remaining bent at the waist, “I think we just covered that.”

“Not that!” Fenris barked - pun intended. “This!” He made a motion with his hand between the two of them as a universal sign between the two of them. He went on as he grabbed another suitcase inside while David went for some of the boxes they had brought that contained Yule gifts for Kristjan’s family.

Kristjan said, “That’s the most you’ve spoken to me in days and you just turned it off like someone turned off the lights! Now what is going on!?”

David grabbed at the luggage and hefted as many into his grip as he could before standing upright and said simply, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” And he turned his back to Fenris, as the sound of a door opening drew their attention from their own personal issues and to the older but still stunning beauty of a woman that was Eva, Kristjan and Aron’s mother. She called aloud to the two of them, “Are you boys coming in or were you planning on sleeping outside in the snow??”

“Saved by the bell.” David mused and once again turned away from Kristjan to walk toward the door held open for him by the matriarch of the Icelandic family. Kristjan watched him walk away from him before he sighed and reached down for more of their luggage…

***

“David and Zoey aren’t here?” Kristjan asked as he removed his tanned aviator jacket and handed it over to his dad’s waiting grasp, much as David did with his thicker, heavier wool coat. Benedikt moved to hang their garments up on the coat rack to the side of the home’s side entrance, answering as he did so, “They’re in town. Aron is showing her some of the sites; the Yule Cat and the Heiðmörk Market…” A memory that David himself held dear, recalling fondly when Kristjan brought him to that public square just outside of the woods; a winter festival that was a marvel to the senses, and evidence that Icelandic folks really took this holiday seriously unlike any other he’s experienced before.

“We will have to go there tomorrow.” Kristjan said to David as they were escorted into the dining room, but David made no effort to answer the invitation although he had to admit he was greatly interested.

“So where are the girls?” Kristjan asked as he and David took the offered seats at the dining room table at the behest of Benedikt, Kristjan’s father, while Eva continued to busy herself in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the evening meal. Benedikt poured both young men a glass of, all the better to stay off the chill of Iceland but this was more for David’s benefit given he was unused to Icelandic weather. Unlike Kristjan.

From the kitchen, Eva called out, “Don’t give them anything stronger than Malt and Appelsín, Benedikt! We all know what happened the last time those two indulged!”

To this, David quickly ducked his head down, feeling the maddening desire to be elsewhere or at the very least, be able to go somewhere and hide. Kristjan, on the other hand, felt the heat rise from deep within and color his lightly tanned flesh in a hue of annoyance and protective anger. He never did tell his family what happened that night last year when David suffered a near paralyzing panic attack. David’s mental health was of David’s and his own concern, not his father and certainly not his mother.

Benedikt sighed and took a seat at the head of the table where he regularly dined and he said simply, “Sorry for that. Your mother is still upset about…” And he made a slight motion with his hand toward the young men’s hands that bore the rings on them as they reached for their offered drinks.

“I told her that we were going to take care of it!” Kristjan all but hissed, trying his best to keep from losing his famed temper in his family home, and worse, at the expense of his beloved mother. But now he was struggling with who he was more concerned in hurting; his mother or his man. Both of whom held equal shares in his heart and soul. Yet even then he failed to notice the again, sudden pained expression that had swiftly crossed David’s face, only to vanish just as quickly.

Kristjan went on to explain, “But the courthouses in Las Vegas were closed for the holidays so we have to wait until we get back after the new year.”

“Mm hm.” Benedikt smiled coyly. “Are you sure there’s not another reason that you’re putting it off?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kristjan mused as he picked up his glass of the hard, Icelandic brandy and took a sip. To which Benedikt chuckled, saying, “Oh come now, Kristjan! I could read you like a book, ever since you were a boy!”

Kristjan raised his brow inquisitively while David watched the exchange like a tennis match, his eyes going back and forth between father and son. Kristjan asked, “Meaning?”

Benedikt answered with a smile while picking up a glass of his own, “Meaning you just can’t wait to rub it in Elin and Viktoria’s noses that you were the first to get married?”

David, despite his feelings, could not help but snort back a laugh as he himself had a similar knee jerk response to what he and Kristjan did where his own parents were concerned. And Kristjan? He didn’t exactly deny his dad’s accusation. More to the point, he raised a hand and pinched a thumb and forefinger closely together in a none-too subtle sign of admission.

“So, you never did say.” David picked up the conversation on behalf of his man. “Where are the girls?”

“Well,” Benedikt answered, setting his glass down. “Freyja will be back from her job at Grillmarkaðurinn in about five hours. Elin and Viktoria will be here on Christmas Eve but will be stopping by tomorrow.”

Kristjan frowned, not understanding the latter part of his father’s answer. He cocked his head to the side, almost in a comical imitation of Kyssa. Benedikt further explained, “Since they both got jobs down in the city, they thought it would make more sense to get a place together rather than travel back and forth every day.”

“Wait, hold up!” Kristjan raised a hand. “Elin and Viktoria moved out?”

“That’s right!” Eva said as she entered the dining room, dinner plates and silverware in hand. She started to set the table almost aggressively as she glanced at her eldest son and said, “How does it feel not to be in on a secret?”

“Oh for…!” Kristjan fell back into his chair, now completely exasperated by his mother’s behavior and reaction toward what he and David had mistakenly done a few weeks prior. “Mom, how many damn times do I have to explain it to you!? It was an accident! A mistake!”

“A  mistake caused by your drinking.” She paused from her task of setting the dinner table and threw her hands up in mock wonder, stating, “Big surprise!”

“Eva!” Benedikt started to speak up in defense of his oldest son. Even if he did agree with his wife about their son’s drinking habits, he most certainly did not agree with how she was reacting to recent events - especially when doing so right in front of their guest, David. All he could be thankful for was that the situation was not made worse by Aron and Zoey’s presence. David’s obvious discomfort was bad enough, but if the young lady Aron was dating had been there, it would have been even worse.

Eva turned to her husband and she defended her actions, “What? You agreed with me about his drinking…”

“Oh really…?” Kristjan started to say, his attention turning from mother to father, but he needn’t have bothered. Eva was far from finished in admonishing her son for what she felt was his reckless behavior. Eva was a wonderful mother as every one of her children would testify, but she was also a protective one. Even unto their adult lives. And none of her children brought out her ‘mama bear syndrome’ more so than her oldest boy.

Eva stared hard at Kristjan who matched her stare for stare, and if someone were to throw a kernel of popcorn between them, the heat radiating from their gaze would most assuredly cause it to pop. She said, “Everything bad that has happened to you has been because of your indulgence in anything remotely alcoholic, Kristjan! When you and Kris Ryans were caught in that elevator, you were both drinking!”

“Stop.” Kristjan said with a biting ease but one that spoke volumes behind his famed temperament. But he was his mother’s son and Eva was not the slightest bit intimidated by her boy. Kristjan was a proud and loving momma’s boy, and Eva knew the fact better than anyone. He loved her just as she did him, but that also meant that she was not about to quit when she had a full head of steam.

She continued, “Or what about the time you damn near killed yourself drinking when you were outed!?”

“What?” David asked in genuine confusion as this revelation was news to him. Kristjan’s eyes flashed at the reminder of the time he was truly at his lowest and how his mom had just used it to weaponize against him.

“Eva!” Benedikt again tried to intervene, knowing his son better than almost anyone save for Aron himself, and as such he could recognize the signs of his temper ready to explode. But Eva continued on, “Then there was…”

"GOD DAMN IT!!!” Kristjan shot up from his chair, throwing it over to the floor in the process and his outburst finally did what her husband could not as it shocked Eva into silence. “THAT IS ENOUGH!”

“Kristjan…” Eva started to speak, the shock quickly wearing off and ‘mama bear’ once again coming out to play. “I am only trying to point out to you how much your drinking has hurt you! You just refuse to admit any fault…”

“Like mother, like son, eh Mom!?” Kristjan stared her down, again surprising her into silence. He then pointed a finger in her direction, “And don’t you EVER insinuate David has hurt me or is some fault…!”

“I didn’t…” She started to speak but was quickly cut off by Kristjan shouting, “Like hell you didn’t! You just stood there and did so stop acting holier than thou Mom! I love you, you know I do and that will never end or change but you are FAR from perfect so DROP IT!!!”

Eva slammed the last of the dinner plates down onto the table’s surface and she turned slowly to her son and she stepped right up to him and she said, “I love you as well dear, but do not ever speak to me like that in this house!”

Kristjan nodded, “Well there’s a simple solution to that Mom…” he stated in a cold whisper. He then turned to David and with a silent nod, but one that spoke volumes, David stood up from the table.

“Kristjan…?” Benedikt started to speak, then turned from his son to his - well, son-in-law. “David…?”

David gave the man a sad smile but followed Kristjan around the table where Kristjan grabbed his coat and passed David's own to his waiting hands.

“Where are you going?” Eva asked, now suddenly realizing with great regret what just happened, even if she was acting out of a mother’s concern for her flesh and blood.

“Where do you think!?” Kristjan answered as he and David reached for their luggage but conspicuously leaving the boxes that contained the Christmas gifts. “We’re going to a hotel!”

“Boys…!” Benedikt stood up but he might as well have said nothing as his protest fell on deaf ears, the door to their home slamming shut behind their son and his husband. Seconds passed with a discomforting silence. Eva’s eyes were closed, her curled fingers pressed against her lips, and gentle tears streaking down her cheeks.

Benedikt turned from the door to face his wife. “Are you happy?”

Outside, the car had just pulled out of the drive and peeled off up the road when the frosted bushes in the yard parted and a wolf stepped through, watching the vehicle as it vanished into the distance.

“Caw!” The sound came from up above and the wolf gazed upward with indifference toward the raven overhead…

---

Downtown Reykjavík

Indeed Kristjan - Fenris - had escaped from his family home and brought David into the heart of the city where they found a quaint yet comfortable hotel for a last minute accommodation; a lucky thing indeed as the holiday was present and most hotels had filled up completely. True, the room was smaller than what he was accustomed to, and he’d probably end up having to sleep on top of David. Nothing he hasn’t done before - wink wink. Still, he would have rather flown back to the States than return to the house and admit defeat to his mother, most of all.

Kristjan needed to get out into the fresh, Reykjavík air, but David opted to remain in the hotel, having had enough for the moment of the cold weather that came naturally to his man’s native country. Besides, David privately felt that his presence would be the opposite of what Kristjan needed at the moment, as he was placing partial blame on himself for recent happenings. That was where Fenris was now, walking down the city streets he had grown up on, ran along with friends as children and escorted his baby brother and sister to school when he was old enough to lend his parents a helping hand.

“I usually have my reasons for wanting to have a match against someone; the World Heavyweight Championship is usually at the top of the list. Ben Jordan will always rank as my Achilles heel where that scenario is concerned. There’s also the times I see someone who looks like a legit bad ass inside of the ring and I want to test myself against them. JC … Jack Washington … Jake Raab … Then there are the times I see someone who says or does something that just pisses me off and I want to get in the ring with them for the sole purpose of kicking their ass straight into the afterlife. Austin James Mercer has always held the top spot there but there were also guys like Supreme Machine. The point is, I have my reasons for when I want to fight a particular opponent… but this?”

Fenris made a face and shook his head in a faux sense of disbelief.

“This one wasn’t even my idea, and I could have cared less about ever facing Alexander Raven, even if it is for the Internet Championship. I just had zero interest in the whole damn thing but then the whiny little bitch went crying to the higher ups…”

Fenris closed his eyes and put on a sarcastic imitation of the reigning Internet Champion crying, complete with gasping for air and rubbing his eyes with his fist, before he suddenly stopped and stared straight into the camera.

“And lo and behold, the match is made official.”

He scoffed.

“Funny, isn’t it Alexander? It’s been months since all of this shit started between us, and why is that? It’s because you have an over-inflated sense of self importance. And yes! I do get the irony of that claim coming from me of all people! Listening to you run at the mouth and posting all of this bullshit on Twitter, you talk and act as if you have a Word For the Day calendar at your fingertips that you can browse through randomly to give off the illusion of intelligence. Or, I don’t know, maybe you study a thesaurus before you get in front of a camera so you can keep that illusion going in hopes people will think you intelligent rather than a fraud and somehow gain more support.”

“And why? Simple, really. You just love attention. Not exactly a fault mind you, considering the business that we’re in thrives on having attention thrust your way, but there’s a key difference between you and I; I have always earned whatever attention the fans or the bosses have given me. You, on the other hand, take your attention however the hell you can get it! Usually by being an antagonistic, know-it-all asshole! The kind of human being who gets his rocks off by talking down to people about shit you don’t know anything about! Or by ‘mansplaining’ about things to people who know what they’re talking about when it’s obvious to anyone watching that you, do not! And you’ll continue doing this because people like you can’t help it, just so long as it gives you some misguided sense of self.”

Fenris turned to address the camera, and thus his upcoming opponent. He clenched a fist and stared hard.

“And in the end, that was what really drove you over the edge where I was concerned, wasn’t it? Oh sure, we had a handful of exchanges back and forth on social media, but nothing that really set you apart from any of the other sad sacks who try to use social media to try and raise their lot in life. You’re like those sad ass influencers that you read stories about, you know the sort. The ones who go into restaurants and expect freebies because they have a whole whopping five hundred followers! Or, better still, those ditzy divas who contact the most exclusive hotels and suggest a ‘collaboration’...”

He used air quotes.

“When what they really meant was ‘gimme, gimme, gimme’! They think that just because they have some followers that hang off their every word, they can use that to brush past in life rather than actually accomplish anything of importance, and bitch? You remind me so much of them with that attitude of yours! I’m legit surprised we don’t see your face on Youtube or Tik Tok, asking … No, demanding, to have people love and respect you! I know! Maybe next time we’re in Las Vegas, you should contact the SCW bosses and suggest you ‘collab’ because, you know – you are such a big deal!”

“And to think, this all started really months ago when you got all butt hurt before your match against Austin James Mercer. It’s almost like you thought you deserved to have the support of your peers even when you were still relatively a baby in the locker room. And I mean that both literally and figuratively. Oh sure, you might have had the support of guys like Ken Davison, but consider the source. Granted, I was one of the ones betting on Mercer to take your title and – I was wrong. I admit it. You won that match but bitch…”

Fenris cracked a smile and shook his head in disbelief.

“If you thought you beat Mercer when he was one hundred percent in his game, you are wrong! I’ve seen Mercer at his best. I’ve fought Mercer, at. His. Best! And the man you faced that night and beat? That was not the Austin James Mercer who was at his best! The simple fact is, you got lucky. You may have pulled off what everybody with any brains would call an upset, but you did not defeat ‘the man’!”

“But me?”

He placed a hand just below his left clavicle.

“I wouldn’t play your little games in order to boost your ego because I could always see you for being exactly what you are - an overrated underachiever. I mean, it seriously must have pissed you off when there was another man out there who wouldn’t acknowledge you and say your name!”

“Your ignorance was never more glaringly obvious than the time you called me ‘all anger and no substance’. You make noise about my not being aware of the shit that you bled for, when you turn right around and look past the exact same damn things about me you fucking hypocrite! And I’m not even talking about my career in MMA or everything I accomplished there, although I sure as shit could because the man that fought and bled for the professional MMA circuit is why the man who fights and bleeds for Sin City Wrestling is even here! Four months, Raven. Four! Months! That’s how long it took for me to go from my very first match as a professional wrestler to becoming the World Heavyweight Champion! And if you are anything like some of the critics I had in those days, you might be saying it was just luck or it was a fluke and nature would take its course, causing me to drop the belt. Well son, it took over eight months before that happened so let me tell you; that must have been one hell of a fluke! My reign is second only to J2H's and yes, I will admit that is saying something! I had matches against the likes of Alex Jones, Casey Williams, Dmitri and anyone else that they wanted to put me against! Whether or not they were a main event Superstar or a jobber! Anytime they needed me for any reason, I was there to represent them! You? You're supposed to represent the World Wide Web as the Internet Champion and the SCW Universe is lucky if they get a token statement! Nature didn’t take it’s course, it took over the day I stepped inside of this place! One thousand, three hundred and forty four days - undefeated! And you? How long did you stay unbeaten since arriving here, Alexander? How close gave you been to being at the top?"

He leaned in at the waist and cupped a hand over his ear, the better to hear before he smiled and nodded. Satisfied.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Now I have to ask you, Raven! Who is the real 'blind one' between us? You start shit with anyone that so much as acknowledges you, from Mercer to Miles Kasey… fuck! You even got into it with Zoey Lukas and dumbass .. all I can say is that you need to thank the gods above that SCW does not allow intergender wrestling because I can guarantee she would kick your ass!"

"Considering everything that's been happening in the States, do you know what you remind me of? You're like a political campaign ad. You talk too damn much and nobody understands a god-damned thing that you're saying! You make empty promises that you don't stand a chance in hell of following through with!”

Fenris came upon the famed Christmas Cat in the town square, a monument that meant as much to the citizens of the Icelandic capital as the White House Christmas tree meant to the American people.

True Fenris had always been a dog person, disliking cats with a burning passion. But this cat in particular? It had always held a special place in the heart of the ‘White Wolf’.

"You are the one who has been content with being second best all of this time! I may not have championship gold around my waist (for the moment) but I can promise you that I am still more to this business than you will ever be!"

"There's something else that I want to point out to you Alexander, so kindly shut the hell up and try listening for a change! Everything that happens after this moment? Everything that is going to happen inside of that ring? Is entirely your fault! You did this, you're to blame! You bitched and you whined to Ward and Underwood like an entitled, bratty child until you got what you wanted! The big question is, now that you have me, whatever are you going to do with me? I had absolutely no interest in that championship of yours. If I'm going to be honest? I would have rather this been a non-title match but unfortunately - the powers that be didn't see that as an option for a SuperCard. Ironic, isn't it, that Ravens are the largest member of the crow family, and here we have a Raven about to eat crow! So soon enough, Alexander, you won't even be second best."

"You won't even be a blip on the fucking radar!"

Flashback

Funny thing about bad news. Oftentimes it is far worse having to deliver it than it is to receive. And why? Because when we think we’re about to get bad news, we often have an inkling as to how we are going to react. I mean, who knows our own person better than we ourselves do? But to have to deliver it? That is where things grow increasingly uncomfortable because of the relative unknown. We may very well know the person that we have to talk to and confide in better than anyone, but as to how they might react to negative or shocking news? We can assume all that we want but the truth is it’s a total mystery how anyone will react to anything. And when you put off this so-called “bad news” for any length of time out of fear or trepidation, that just makes the waiting even worse.

It was this exact situation where Kristjan Baltasarsson aka Fenris found himself trapped in. Just a handful of weeks ago, after a night out with his boyfriend David Shepherd and the mistaken belief that the famed Elvis Presley churches on the famed Strip of Las Vegas were just more tourist attractions, Fenris and David found themselves joined in holy matrimony. And all by accident. Now while the two men worked out how to fix this, while their friends and loved ones got in the much required laughs at their joined expense, Kristjan knew there were two people that he had to tell, but had put it off for as long as possible. And why?

How would you break it to your parents that you accidentally had gotten married and they weren’t present to see the first of their children tie the proverbial knot?

Aron had suggested saving themselves - and their parents - the trouble. Get an annulment and just pretend like it never happened but there was a voice of reason that brought sense to everyone around them; Ben Jordan, Fenris’s closest friend in the business, stated that doing this could be just as damaging as not telling them at all because it was deceiving them. Keeping secrets, even small ones, could fracture trust even if you have the best of intentions and want to spare someone pain. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them” is a popular sentiment but not always an accurate one. In fact, that very saying is filled with deception and mistrust and that is the point where Ben had won out with reasoning and logic.

Fenris and Aron’s family were strong-willed enough to handle the truth and while the news of it might hurt at first, things could be mended.

This all explained well enough why Fenris looked like he was going to be sick as he sat on the sofa in his and Aron’s condo at Turnberry Place in Las Vegas with David seated at his side. The laptop was open on the coffee table in front of them as the video messaging chat was attempting to contact his family in Reykjavik. While wanting to be there for his brother, Aron knew this was something that he had to handle on his own. So Aron leashed up Kyssa and grabbed his little fella Chestnut and went for a time in the nearby pet park. David made the attempt to join him but Fenris snatched him by the arm and yanked him right back down into the very spot where he now say. Fenris stated simply he wasn’t going to make him do this alone.

“Yeah!” Aron laughed. “You liked it enough to put a ring on it so suck it up and deal with your in-laws!” And quickly closed the door before the projectile thrown by Fenris crashed against the door.

There was roughly a seven hour time difference between Las Vegas and Iceland, so where it was just after noon here in Las Vegas, it would be just after seven there. If Fenris had his timing right, the family would just have finished dinner as his mother and father’s schedule at home remained as firm and rigid as his own. Finally after what seemed an eternity yet was probably more likely only two or three rings, the video chat was picked up from the family’s end in Iceland and the screen was filled with the smiling visage of Fenris and Aron’s mother, Eva.

“Honey, hi!” Eva absolutely gushed in Icelandic as she was prone to do whenever one of her boys called. So many children spent a vast amount of time attempting to separate or distance themselves from their parents but not her boys. Both Aron and Kristjan went out of their way to contact her and her husband Benedikt every few days (at least!) which stoked her family pride. She then saw the one seated beside her son and her smile could only grow wider and brighter at the man who had somehow captured the heart of a child many joked had no such organ beating deep within his chest. “David, dear. How are you?” She automatically switched to broken English as her youngest daughter Freyja had the family learning over the past two years.

“I’m good, Eva.” David fidgeted, having trouble still with any semblance of comfort to the whole family dynamic thing; an unsettling side effect of being raised by Gerald and Mavis Shepherd.

“I’m glad you called dear, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” Eva started to say which Fenris spoke up, “Yeah, that was why I was calling. I needed to talk to you and Dad.”

“Oh?” Eva questioned but Fenris held a hand up in offering, saying, “But you first.”

Eva said, “Well it’s just that you know Elin and Viktoria moved out and got a place together earlier this year.” Fenris nodded, encouraging her to continue. She went on, “Well there’s a chance that they and Freyja may not be able to get time off from work to make our usual trip to see you and your brother for Christmas.”

“Elin and Viktoria I can understand.” Fenris admitted, actually being impressed (IE: stunned) that his antagonistic older sisters had managed to get jobs and move out of the family home. He shook his head, “But why not Freyja?”

“Well dear, that’s a bit of good news I can give you.” She answered. “Freyja’s internship at Grillmarkaðurinn finally ended, and they decided to take her on as an apprentice chef!”

“Out-STANDING!” Fenris smiled, quite the contrast to the usual scowl that he had on his face. His little sister was quite the chef and Grillmarkaðurinnwas one of the more exclusive high-end restaurants in their home city. To just get an internship was highly sought after and competitive, but to be hired on? It spoke volumes to what those in power must have thought of little Freyja's talents in the kitchen. Fenris then noticed the confused look on David’s face so he leaned over and told him as much.

“Ah.” David nodded, finally understanding. He then leaned a touch more into the camera and offered, “Tell her congratulations from me.”

“Thank you, David.” Eva stated with a smile. “That’s sweet. But that’s why they might not be able to make it to America for Christmas and dear…?” Eva sighed, resigning herself to what might come with this next bit of news. “Your father and I are having reservations about leaving your sisters alone for the holiday.”

Fenris paused, staring at the screen as he processed this and said, “So… you might not be able to make it either?”

“Your father and I just started discussing this and we haven’t reached a decision yet so…” But whatever else Eva was going to follow it up with was interrupted by none other than David who spoke up and said, “Why don’t we go there?”

“What?” Eva and Fenris BOTH stated, as her eyes fell to her son’s boyfriend (?) and Fenris turned his head with a quizzical expression.

David shrugged, “We were going to fly in for your usual visit to Jokull’s mother, weren’t we? Spend time in the square like last year?” Fenris nodded and David turned his focus to Eva on the screen. “We could just extend the visit to Christmas.”

“Eva was all but over the moon at David coming up with this solution - having her boys home for the holidays after so many years. Fenris asked him, “You want to spend Christmas in Iceland?”

“Are you kidding?” David almost laughed. “I never saw anything like it when you took me there last year. It made me feel like a kid again! Maybe I’ll see if Esther and Andrey want to come with?”

“That would be lovely.” Eva smiled. “But you said you had news for me and your father? Do you want me to get him to join us?”

“Yeah.” Fenris nodded. “You better.”

“Benedikt!” Eva turned her head to call off-camera. “Your son is on the call! He has something to tell us!”

A few scant moments pass before Eva shifts slightly to the side so Fenris and Aron’s father Benedikt slides into the scene, taking a seat at the table to his wife’s left. Benedikt raised a glass, with a dose of rum inside to greet his boy.

“Kristjan!” Benedikt smiled, then saw David next to him and he nodded, David.” And David smiled yet said nothing. If there was anyone that caused him unnecessary discomfort, it was Benedikt. Although the patriarch of the family did nothing himself to cause this and treated David very warmly when they spent time together last year over Christmas, it was David’s own issues with a fatherly figure that was behind it all. Issues he prayed (pun intended) one day to grow past.

“So what is it that you wanted to tell us?” Eva asked, and Fenris looked down, wringing his fingers together before he looked up and spread his hands wide, answering, “Look, I’m not sure how else to break this to you but to just come out and say it. A few weeks ago David and I went out on the Vegas Strip for a date. Had a few drinks, and we decided to visit a few of the places I took all of you last time you were here. You know, the wax museum? The aquarium?...”

“And…?” Benedikt prodded.

“And, well… you know those funny churches that have Elvis impersonators in them?” Fenris all but cringed.

“Of course.” Benedikt nodded while Eva frowned, wondering where her son was going with this. Benedikt said, “You showed us those churches last time we were there and… what?” He turned his head as Eva had suddenly gripped her husband's hand with a look of alarm.

“Kristjan…” Eva started to say. “You didn’t… Tell us you didn’t!”

Fenris cleared his throat and brought his left hand up to display the carved ring that previously was worn around his neck, a shared gift between himself and David. David, too, bright up his hand to show the same.

“You got MARRIED!?” Eva’s voice rose as Benedikt placed a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“We didn’t MEAN to!” Fenris tried in vain to explain the situation that he and David had found themselves in. “We had a few drinks by then and we thought it was just another tourist trap!”

David, opting to try to take some of the heat off of his boyfriend/husband, jumped in and said, “We got back here and Aron told us what we actually did and…”

“My son got married…” Eva’s voice cracked and she shook her head. “.. without his family. Without me.”

“Mama…” Fenris started to say but Eva held a hand up and she stood up and walked off camera before Benedikt could stop her from doing so. Fenris hung his head and David placed an arm around his upper body, hoping to offer his man some semblance of comfort in this tense situation.

Benedikt then turned back to the camera and he asked the obvious, “Why is this the first we’re hearing about this?”

“Because of that.” Fenris answered without hesitation, nodding his head in the direction his mother had just taken her leave. “We were just going to have it undone and not tell anyone but…” he shrugged. “You deserve the truth.”

Benedikt took time to process this, nodding in understanding and he then looked up into the camera from his end and asked, “So what happens now?”

Fenris shrugged, “We do what we were going to do before. Have it annulled and act like it never happened.” Not noticing the stricken look of disappointment on David’s face before it all but vanished instantaneously. Before anything else could be said, there was a knock at the door of the condo, prompting Fenris to look first to the front door, then to his father. “Papa? Someone’s here. Can I call you back?”

“Take care of what you need to.” His father nodded. “I’ll talk to your mother.”

“Bye, Papa.” Fenris smiled genuinely toward the man that raised him to be the man he was, and the call was ended. Fenris rose to his feet and huffed at David, “That went as well as expected.”

David could just smile as he watched Fenris cross the threshold of the condo to reach the front door. Once opened, all David heard was,

“Wow. You look like shit!”

“No! No way! Absolutely not!”

“Carter..”

“There’s no way… NO!” But then David stood up and watched as Fenris stepped aside and a group of people entered the condo. Some he knew well enough through his own time in SCW and yes, SCU; namely Ariana and Krystal. He even knew Miles but the other three? Two women and someone who looks as if he had seen better days with his face seriously messed up.

Wait… Carter? As in… Helluva Bottom Carter? David walked across the foyer to reach the gathering and upon closer inspection, he realized the one who was almost unrecognizable was indeed Carter. David shook his head.

“What the hell happened to you?” David asked, but Carter looked at him briefly before looking straight at Miles and Ariana and he shook his head, almost pleading, “Please.. You can’t be serious!” But Miles all but ignored his protests and he walked up to Fenris and he said, “We need to talk.”

Fenris frowned as David remained and Fenris allowed Miles to escort him around toward the kitchen area. Fenris turned his back to the counter and leaned against it, waiting as Miles glanced back briefly over his shoulder before returning his attention to the volatile “White Wolf.”

“What happened to him?” Fenris asked, nodding a head toward the direction of his “guests” even though he had some semblance of an idea due to locker room gossip.

Miles sighed before he confessed the entire story, “His boyfriend… Lazarus. You know about the rumors…?” He raised his brow questioningly, to which Fenris nodded. Miles ran a hand through his curly hair and said, “Well … it seems to have hit the fan. Carter vanished from Twitter so his family flew in..”

“His family?”

Miles jetted his thumb back, “That’s his mom and grandma.” Fenris nodded that he understood and Miles went on to explain, “They were growing concerned so they came to Las Vegas and we all went to the loft he lives in with Lazarus and we found him like… that.”

Fenris’s eyes strayed just off to where the others would be gathered and he stated more as a statement than a question, “His boyfriend did that?”

To which Miles nodded. “Yeah. Carter all but said he did. We had our suspicions with the bruising and that broken finger incident, but this…” Miles turned to look back to where David was talking to the gathering, and it was clear that Carter was further protesting even the very idea of staying in the same place as Fenris, a man that he shared a very antagonistic relationship with despite sharing the same past of being trained at the famed GO Gym.

Miles turned back to Fenris and he said, “Kristjan… his family and I need a favor…” Kristjan’s eyebrows rose as he folded his arms over his chest…

And suddenly from the kitchen’s direction everyone heard the outburst, “WHAT!?!?” Startling everyone and causing heads to turn.

In the kitchen, Miles stepped closer to Fenris to hopefully keep their voices down and the conversation as private as possible. Miles reasoned - nay, implored with his friend, “We had to get him out of there, Kristjan! If we waited any longer he might have ended up a statistic!”

“So, what?” Fenris motioned with a wave of the arm yet keeping his voice down which, if you knew him, was quite the effort when that infamous temper of his was on the rise. “Suddenly you expect me to be a babysitter!? Why me?”

Miles answered, “Because Lazarus knows where everyone else lives! And even if he knew where you lived, he’d be stupid to even try to get close to Carter when you’re around.”

Fenris’s eyes narrowed, “Are you flattering me?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Miles reasoned, before he took that final step to confide in his friend. “Kristjan, please. It won’t be forever, and this is the safest place that I could think of!”

Fenris exhales sharply through his nose, looking past Miles for a brief moment and then back to the matter at hand. He and Carter did not get along, not even closely. They have had an antagonistic relationship ever since Carter made one feeble attempt to land him and Fenris shot him down - hard. Carter’s pride had been sorely wounded that day and it never fully recovered. But the kid, if what Miles said was true, could be in legit danger. The evidence to that fact was overwhelming and standing right in his own front room. And… it brought back the memories he had tried to bury where his eldest sister herself was the victim of domestic abuse. So … he could sadly relate.

His expression, hardened even more than usual, spoke volumes as he looked up to Miles and nodded once….

“Okay, it’s settled.” Miles said as he and Fenris walked back into the main living area of the condo where everyone had been waiting. “Kristjan agreed he could stay here and he’d watch after him.”

To which everyone was greatly relieved, everyone that is, except Carter. The young man turned to his mother with his one good eye and shook his head, “Mom, please. No! I don’t want to stay here! You don’t know what he’s like…”

“Hey!” Fenris frowned, calling him out. “I am standing right here!”

Carter turned away from him and back to his mom and she leaned in, taking his shoulders in her hands. She implored her baby boy, “I know, you’ve made that clear! But honey, we need to keep you somewhere safe until this situation is over!”

Watching this heart wrenching scene unfold, Carter’s Grams, Joan, turned to look at both Miles and Ariana and she asked, “Do you really think this is the safest place for him?” To which Ariana nodded and Miles simply said, “I do.”

Joan nodded and looked at her grandson, “That’s good enough for me then.” And that was all that needed to be said. Carter at that very moment felt utterly betrayed at that very moment by the two women who he was closest to, but suffice to say, if his Grams and Mom agreed, the matter was settled. Whether he liked it or not.

“I can’t give up Aron’s room without his consent.” Fenris admitted to Miles. “He’s part owner of this place now, so… but I can get the sofa ready.”

“Lovely.” Carter grumbled, being relegated not only to staying with the last person he;d want to stay with, but sleeping on a sofa. He shook his head when he felt Fenris nudge his arm and he turned to find Fenris pointing toward said sofa, “Have a seat.” He said in a tone that screamed he expected it to be followed.

Carter frowned at this as Fenris turned his back on him and the man walked toward the hall that led to the bedrooms, only for him to glance back and do a double take at Carter still standing and glaring in his direction.

Carter stood defiantly and said, “I don’t NEED you telling me what to…”

“SIT!” Fenris bellowed and he watched as everyone there - Miles, Carter, Ariana, Krystal, Carter’s mom and grams and yes, even David - fell into the nearest seat available! Fenris looked around at the almost-comical scene and he just shook his head and with a roll of the eyes, he turned and walked off to get the things Carter would need….

---

“Finally!”

A spotlight flashed on and fully illuminated one lone person standing inside of a six-sided ring, that one person being Fenris in his most familiar of surroundings; the famed GO Gym. He is dressed for combat in his white faux leather jacket, matching latex shorts and his favorite cap on his head. The camera draws closer as the White Wolf rubs his palms together and he nodded, the very picture of confidence worn on his face.

“That’s the only thing that I can say when this match was announced. FINALLY! I get Jack Washington in the ring, one on one! Man to man with nobody else out there to interfere and nobody sticking their noses into things to ruin something that I have been waiting for, for a very long time!”

“Jack…”

Fenris tilted his head to the side with a smarmy smile and shook his head.

“How long has it been? How long ago was it when you and I actually set foot inside of the ring against one another? October of `21? Hm?”

He looks questioningly and nods his head in the affirmative, raising a hand and extending a forefinger.

“That’s right, just over one year. The match where you, Vinnie and I were going to find out which one of us would move on to challenge Alex Jones for the World Championship. And yes, I remember. I remember all too well what happened in that match. You won. You. Pinned. Me! That’s the edge you have going into this one, isn’t it? That’s the bragging point you get to indulge in when you walk out here to talk your shit and tell the world everything that we’ve already heard before from you. You did what I can count on one hand how many times it has happened; you beat me! But…”

He lowered that forefinger and his hand clenched into a fist.

“Let’s not forget how it happened, hm? Let’s not forget that the only reason that you got one over on me was because of Marcus Cage, Candy’s worse half! Or… did you honestly think that you beat me legit? I had Vinnie down, Jack. I had him pinned, beaten! Until Marcus pulled me out of the ring, screwing me over and saving the match for you! I sincerely hope that you sent Candy and Marcus a fruit basket because you owe him big! Without him, you never would have got the jump on me to end that match and you never would have walked into High Stakes in what should have been MY opportunity!”

He then sneers and shakes his head.

“Not that I’m bitter. Of course, there was also the time I thought I’d finally get a match against you and it was signed, sealed and delivered - then ruined when once again, Candy had to step in and try to make things more…”

He air quotes.

“...Fun! Taking us out of the ring and into some pool filled with fucking pudding!? I am not a sideshow freak so I bailed, I admit it! I didn’t get into this sport to take part in shit like that, so you got to wrestle my brother instead and yeah… you won. Congratulations, Jack! You beat a manager who IS a trained wrestler but has had less than five matches in four years! And even though it was held in that ridiculous pudding and not an actual ring, I was pretty damn proud of the showing my little brother gave against a former World and Internet Champion! But that all was then… this is now. And there is nobody to interfere. Nobody to ruin this match and nobody that is going to save your ass.”

“Jack, I will fully admit that you are one of only a handful of men in SCW who I have actively sought out to face and test myself against because when I look at you, I see me. I see a wrestler with stars in their eyes and everything laid out before them, the entire world ripe for the picking and yet… there you stand. Content to wallow in our own mediocrity. What have you done lately? What efforts have you put in to stand out from the masses and make yourself known once again? You are a former World Heavyweight Champion! A former Internet Champion! And now you are little more than card filler! Have you no shame? Have you no ambitions? Have you no desire to once again be at the top and regain the standing you once had when everyone looked at you as some crowned prince of the ring? Because if not, you might as well at least try to do the honorable thing and turn off that spotlight above your head and call it a night because if you have no ambition, you have no direction! And if you have no direction, then quite simply - you have no goddamn idea where you are headed. You are a lost soul, a child left alone in the woods with little more than breadcrumbs to find his way home.”

“So man up, Jack! I did not wait this long for a match against one of the more impressive and fastest rising stars in the business since – well, me, just to turn around and find myself facing down a little wayward soul traipsing off to his pity party. I want to face the man that beat Alex Jones and Kris Ryans for the World Heavyweight Championships! I want to face the cocky bastard that beat Ken Davison for the Internet Championship! So give THAT man to me, Jack! That is the man I want to face and beat!”

He shook his head with mock pity etched on his otherwise handsome facial features.

“Don’t do this to me, Jack. Don’t make me face some shell of a man that once was.”

He adjusted his cap and stared off into space momentarily, lost in thought before he nodded.

“You and I have a lot in common Jack, that is reason enough to want to truly test myself against you. You and I both made our names first known through the Blast From the Past tournaments. You may not have won the whole thing like I did, but you made enough of an impression that people wanted to see more of you. The bosses wanted to sign you, and ever since then? You rose to the fucking stars like a rocket ship! Or at least you did, until that rocket ran out of fuel and you just were left puttering around like the Little Engine That Couldn’t! So yeah. This is me trying to inspire you. This is me trying to light a fire under your ass and get you back to being that same man that first made me want to face you in the first place! Because you are in a very unique position, Jack. You are one of only two men - the other being Ben Jordan - who ever got a win over me and I never returned the favor. That man then was golden! The man I see now is just…”

He shakes his head derisively.

“... Sad.”

Las Vegas - September 27
Turnberry Towers

“So, why didn’t David come back with us?” Aron asked as he and Kristjan stepped off of the elevator and to the floor that they called home. David had called Kristjan earlier in the day to meet him for dinner at the Truth & Tonic restaurant on the Las Vegas Strip, within the famed Venetian Hotel. Aron had resigned himself to a quiet evening in, maybe ordering some takeout and playing with Kyssa and Chestnut, but his brother and his man had other ideas. Kristjan had surprised him by telling him to kindly “get his ass ready” because he was joining the two for the evening out. Aron had tried to decline because he didn’t want to be a third wheel on one of his brother’s dates, but surprise, surprise. It was like talking to a brick wall as both Kristjan and David insisted he go with them in order to get out of the condo for a night.

How is THAT for irony? Kristjan was normally the homebody and here he and his boyfriend had to drag Aron - the sociable one - out for a night on the (in)famous Las Vegas Strip.

Kristjan walked up to the door, one of three on this floor of the building, key in hand and he answered, “No. David is meeting Esther and Andrey back at their place so no…”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” Aron joked, earning for himself a sidelong glance that Kristjan had seemingly perfected over the years. “So go find a movie or something and I’ll order something.”

“Damn, K!” Aron quipped as his brother used his key to unlock the door to their place. “You just cleaned out that vegetarian buffet and you’re STILL hungry?”

“I’m a growing boy!”

“Yes but at this rate, you’ll grow out.” Aron smiled. “Not up.”

“Shut up.” Kristjan said plainly as he placed a hand on Aron’s back and shoved him through the open door and into their condo, stepping in after him.

Aron knew the way well enough, even in the dark as his palm slid across the flat switch against the wall, casting the interior with a golden illumination. Aron walked further inside as his brother took the usual precaution of locking the door and ensuring that it was secure. Aron stepped through the foyer and into the living room where he looked toward the small pet playpen where he had left the kitten he had rescued only days before. He had half expected to see the kitten curled up on the small bed he had purchased for it, but what he saw instead had him choke back a cross between a laugh and a sound of adoration.

 “What the hell are you just standing here for…” Kristjan started to ask him as he began to brush past him, but stopped cold when his eyes fell on the exact same sight that had brought Aron to a stop…

Inside the playpen, the kitten wasn’t alone. Kristjan’s beloved Kyssa had somehow climbed her way inside and laid down, and there the kitten was - nursing on the Siberian Husky as if it were her puppy. His paws “making biscuits” on her soft underbelly as kittens (and puppies) were known to do.

Now it was Aron’s turn to look toward his brother from the corner of his eye, half expecting him to erupt at any moment. But instead, Kristjan was as silent as the stone, staring at what was happening in front of him, his jaw almost touching the floor.

“K?” Aron started to speak up but Kristjan just turned the other way and walked toward his personal bar across the living room, obviously and desperately in need of a drink.

---

Las Vegas - September 29
Turnberry Towers

Kristjan watched, shaking his head as Aron slid off of the sofa in their living room to take a seat on the floor. Scattered about on the sofa as well as their coffee table was a large bag with the Petsmart emblem, stuffed to the brim with things that he had just returned from the store with, and all for the small feline that had seemed to integrate itself into his little brother’s heart over the past near two weeks.

"I don't know why you're bothering buying all of that." Kristjan stated as he stood behind the sofa, his arms resting on the back. He watched as Aron, seated cross-legged on the floor, gently pushed a plastic ball with a bell inside toward the kitten who sat on its hind end, watching the toy with wide, curious eyes. Of course, the sound of the 'dingle ball' didn't just attract the attention of the four week old kitten. Kyssa, who HAD been sound asleep on Kristjan's personal chair, was watching the goings on attentively. Not just because of the noise that the ball was making - but because her eyes were on the kitten  itself. Much to her master’s chagrin, it would seem that his “baby girl” was treating this kitten that was barely a month old as if it were her own pup.

Chestnut, as Aron had affectionately named him, raised a paw as if to playfully attack his plastic antagonist, when Kristjan spoke, "Are you planning on giving all of this shit to whoever takes him?"

And almost instantaneously, Aron's back straightened and his shoulders grew tense. His voice remained low but his words were clear as day, "You're seriously going to do this, aren't you?"

"Do what?" Kristjan demanded, standing up straight.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Aron replied, looking back over his shoulder at him. “You’re really not going to let me keep him, are you?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Kristjan rolled his eyes as he turned away from the scene and started to walk away but Aron’s voice gave him pause as he said further, “You are seriously going to make me give him away!”

“Okay…!” Kristjan knew that this was coming, ever since Aron had picked that kitten up at the park. He turned back around to pick up this gauntlet that his brother was ready to throw right down at his feet. He braced his hands on the back of the sofa, his arms straight, and looked him dead in the eye with a raised brow. He asked, “Can we not paint me as the villain of the picture this time? Granted, I’ve more than earned my time in that particular spotlight but I warned you from day one that we were not keeping that thing!”

Aron said nothing. He just stared at Kristjan until his older brother felt compelled to continue, “I knew damn well that you were going to grow too attached.”

“Well of COURSE I grew attached!” Aron responded with just a touch of heat to his words. “How could I not!? He was riddled with fleas! Malnourished! Sick! If I hadn’t brought him home from the vet, chances are they would have put the little guy down! I stayed up all hours washing him and feeding him and making sure to get those meds down him!”

“I know you did, A.” Kristjan found himself smiling, proud of his brother’s efforts to care for that little animal. Aron’s love for animals rivaled his own and under any other circumstance, he long believed his brother would have made an outstanding veterinarian. He went on, “And I have to admit that had you not taken care of him, I would have been tempted to do it myself.” He then shook his head. “But I never would have kept him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I hate cats!” Kristjan stated forcefully. “I always have! Even those two that mom had when we were kids! But they were mom’s, and it was her house!”

“And this is your place.” Aron stared at him, it being more of a factual statement rather than a question. One in which Kristjan answered with a slight shrug of indifference and a nod of the head. Aron scoffed back a laugh and turned back away from him, stating, “I was wondering when that would get brought up again.”

“What are you talking about?” Kristjan asked, genuinely confused at the sudden change in direction that the conversation was turning. “When what gets brought up again?”

“Oh I don’t know.” Aron said as he pushed himself up to his feet and turned around to confront him face to face. “Maybe how you paid for this place so it’s your home and it’s your way or the highway?”

“Well, A…” Kristjan held his arms out. “I did pay for this place.”

“Yeah.” Aron nodded. “Funny though, isn’t it? How when everything is going perfectly here then it’s our home? But when something is up that you want no part of, suddenly it’s your home and you paid for it so you have final say?”

“I never said that!” Kristjan started to deny but he didn’t have much chance as Aron replied hotly, “You say it all the time! Especially when it comes to my wanting to keep Chestnut! You hate cats and since it’s your place paid for by your money, it’s your way and ONLY your way! Now I’m going to have to give the little guy to a shelter!”

“Ariana said she and Francisco would adopt him!” Kristjan replied, to which Aron responded, “Catch up, K! They found a cat in their driveway and ended up adopting it instead!”

“And that’s MY fault!?” Kristjan fought back. “I told you to give them the cat but you were holding out in hopes I’d change my mind!”

“I was holding out trying to keep him alive!” Aron finally raised his voice to a near shout, all but taking his brother’s words away.  In all of their years as siblings, Kristjan could legit not remember a single time where Aron yelled at him. Not like this.

Aron went on, “All I wanted was something in this place that I could call my own! You know, aside from the bills and the chores…”

“I pay the bills!” Kristjan contested, to which Aron replied, “Your funds pay for them but who sends them in? Who does all the cleaning between the days when the cleaning lady shows up!? When you’re hungry, who places the calls!? First I manage your career and now I apparently manage your household!”

“I pay you to be my manager, A!” Kristjan fought blindly with reason, but it did him little good as Aron jabbed a finger to his own chest and shouted back, “But you don’t pay me to take care of this place! And you sure as hell don’t lift a finger around here! You go to the gym and you wrestle and that’s the extent of your contribution to your own home! Everything else is on MY shoulders!”

Kristjan again tried to intervene but Aron was on a roll and he talked right over his older brother’s protests, “I’m a college graduate who speaks three languages and look at me now! A housekeeper to my big brother! And in all these years I have never asked you for anything - EVER! But the one time I do ask you for something? You tell me no.”

Aron shook his head and then turned and walked toward the door, prompting Kristjan to call after him, “Where are you going?”

“Out!” Aron said simply. He grasped the door handle and jerked it open, turning back to Kristjan to say, “I’ll ask Gabriel if he can watch over Chestnut until I can find a place of my own.”

“What…?” Kristjan started to protest but ended up with the door slammed right in his face.

---

Fenris stood in front of the camera; his back to one of the rings housed within the GO Gym, the very same facility that successfully transitioned him from a feared MMA fighter, to a dangerous hybrid between that world and that of professional wrestling. He was wearing his traditional white; his favorite ball cap, a leather jacket zipped up to the neck, and his usual white, latex shorts that he would often compete in.

“I’ll have to be honest, I thought I had wrestled just about everyone in SCW, whether they were relatively important or … not. I’ve been in the ring against current champions, former champions, curtain jerkers and guys who have strived to reach the level of Main Event but just barely allows for it to slip out of their grasp. I’ve been put up against guys who spent years honing their craft and their bodies to the point that they were legit threats to everyone that set foot inside of the ring with them, right up to the sad fact I’ve faced men that really had no goddamn business being inside of the ring, let alone sharing the same space as me!”

“Ben Jordan. Mac Bane. Austin James Mercer. Casey Williams. Jack Washington. Senor Vinnie. Alex Jones. Caleb Storms. If I didn’t say your name, don’t come bitching because I have other things, other people, on my mind. You name them, I’ve faced them. Some have beaten me, but more often than not, I’m cocky and confident enough to say I’m the one who walked away the winner. So how - how then, did one name who I already respected manage to slip past me undetected? How is it that you and I have never met inside of the ring before – Miles Kasey?”

Fenris motioned a finger between himself and the camera, his cobalt blue eyes burning into the viewer.

“I mean, how did I ever miss this chance? It seemed like for years, ever since you first showed your face in an SCW ring and on social media we had this healthy little competition over…”

Fenris proceeds to reach up and unzip his jacket, opening it all of the way up to showcase his rock-solid abs. He smirks in that way that would make even those that love him want to slap him silly, while waving a hand over that eight pack.

“We’ve had our words, our silly proclamations over who has the better abs, the better thighs - whatever. That’s just talk. And up until now, that’s as far as it’s ever gone between us, Miles. Funny how that worked out. Either the higher ups also made the same mistake in thinking that we’d already met inside of the ring and we put on such a piss poor performance that they never wanted to witness it again…”

He snorted back a laugh, holding up a hand to stall for a moment.

“Sorry. Like THAT would ever be a possibility! Or the other option is that for some, unexplained reason - they didn’t want us in the same ring. At least not until they saw more money making opportunities, and I suppose you winning the Roulette Championship was all the reason that they were looking for. Funny that, because when this match was first signed, it was for that unique championship that you just won and deservedly so. Yes, I said it! But see, here’s the thing. I like you Miles. There! I said it. I like you, and that is one of two reasons why I had Aron negotiate the terms of our match to make sure that it is contested as a non title match.”

He nodded.

“Yes, I am aware of the irony in my demanding such a thing because when I was the World Champion? I hated the very idea of a champion, any champion, being in a match where their championship wasn’t on the line! To me, the very idea was unthinkable because if a champion is fighting, then their championship SHOULD be at stake! Yet – here we are. My wanting this to be a non-title match because I like you too much to take that championship off of you so quickly. And the other reason? Well, if I am going to be perfectly blunt - I hate the roulette division. Oh I can see the appeal for the fans and those that thrive in it, competing under the “expect the unexpected” routine, but the closest thing to a cage that I want to be in is a Lion’s Den, and that’s it! You saw what happened when they tried to stick me in a fucking pudding match! I. Refused! Barbed wire? Ladder matches?”

He shook his head.

“Sorry, but that is not what I consider actual wrestling or competition. So I want nothing to do with that division, or the championship that reigns atop of it. And contrary to my nature Miles, I am not saying this to offend or to ‘throw shade’ in hopes of pissing you off and luring you in. I am just saying it because I believe you deserve a reason why I didn’t want to challenge you for your championship.”

“Now here is another piece of truth you deserve to hear Miles. Under most circumstances, I’m the sort where my respect for a fighter has to be earned inside of the ring. It’s how I measure the fighting spirit of a man. Not by watching them fight anyone else on the screen. But by how they fare inside of the ring against me! I can see the man outside of the ring and respect him as a person, but it is the fighter that I am up against, not the man. Usually. Then, there is you. I respected you long before I was given this chance to meet you in the ring. I was right there, watching you when you struggled. I watched you at your highs and lows, at your best and your worst. But even if your record at the time wasn’t at its very best? You never gave up. You dusted yourself off and tried again, fighting harder than ever before. Each and every time. And what do you know? Not even a month ago and all that effort, all of those hopes and dreams paid off, and you finally became a champion!”

He clapped his hands together genuinely, not with any trace of sarcasm.

“And I can honestly say that it’s about fucking time! Everything about you, Miles? Respect! You remind me in a way of another man that fought tooth and nail to rise up from the ashes, and he tasted success as well. A man I am honored to consider one of my favorite opponents because he always had the balls to fight me the way I WANT to be fought! Caleb Storms. And believe me when I tell you that drawing that comparison is a compliment by my eyes. But this isn’t about Caleb. It’s about you. It’s about us. It’s about you and I showing the world why this match should never have taken so long to have been made official. So good luck, Miles.”

“Now let’s fuck some shit up!”

---

Las Vegas - September 29
Turnberry Towers

Gabriel had talked some sense into him - mostly. Aron had driven all the way to the Stevens’s house to ask them not only to hold onto Chestnut for a short time for him, but to also ask them to help him in finding an affordable place of his own to rent where he could keep the kitten that had captured his heart all-too easily.  Gabriel agreed that he would take in the kitten temporarily, but he also suggested Aron think things over as far as moving out went. The world knew that Fenris and Aron were a package deal. What’s more, Fenris and Aron knew it.

Aron had confided to Gabriel everything that he had said in anger to his brother earlier in the day, and every word that he said? He meant. That was why Gabriel told him to head back home and give it some time before he even considered breaking up the tandem of the Brothers Baltasarsson. Despite the desire to have something of his own, Gabriel was smart enough to know that separating the two of them would do more harm than good. But he just didn’t quite phrase it that way. Gabriel had grown to know these two young men, having trained both and having them as a part of his life and his makeshift family since 2018. He could read people, so he simply suggested time be allowed for things to cool down, and then perhaps Aron could broach the subject once again before doing anything rash.

He simply needed to talk to the man that was seen by many as being almost impossible to talk to. Of course, what Aron didn’t know was that Kristjan had also contacted him earlier today, almost right after Aron had stormed out. And student and teacher, and friends, had what was a surprisingly eye opening and personal discussion on the matter at hand.

By now, it was well past eight in the evening, Aron had eaten out and privately/bitterly wondered if Kristjan had found some way to master the phone long enough to order his own dinner without him there to take care of it for him. Aron entered the condo and the lights were on, as was the television, and as he walked past the foyer and into the main living area, he was caught by surprise; not by the sight of his brother sitting there in his preferred chair, beer in hand and watching ‘Halloween Kills’ on their TV - that was the norm. But the fact that there were more Petsmart bags scattered throughout the entrance of their home.

Correction - Kristjan's home.

Aron silently walked closer to one large bag in particular and peeked inside, spotting some sort of pet drinking fountain stuffed inside. Another bag held more toys, while another had certain things such as brushes and claw trimmers for the grooming care of a pet. On the bar counter that separated their dining room and the small kitchen were stacks of canned cat food fit for a kitten’s dietary requirements. Aron was totally and thoroughly confused as he looked around and almost laughed when he saw the large box for a cat tower set upright against the far wall.

“K?” Aron started to say, and was rewarded with a distracted, “Hm?” for an answer as his brother’s undivided attention was on the screen in front of him.

“What’s going on?” Aron asked, to which Kristjan replied, “Jamie Lee Curtis is about to kick some ass…”

“No.” Aron said louder, finally prying his brother’s eyes away from the screen where Michael Myers was massacring a mob and onto him. “This!”

“What?” Kristjan asked again, to which Aron pointed from one thing to another. “This! That’s enough cat food to last months! And… the toys? The tower?”

Kristjan turned idly back away from Aron to resume his movie watching, saying casually, “If you’re going to keep him, you need to take care of him.”

Aron stared at his brother, then his eyes shifted toward the small pen where Chestnut was sleeping comfortably in the bed, while Kyssa was stretched out along the edge, as if acting the role of silent guardian.

Kristjan spoke casually, “He pisses on anything, I’m rubbing your nose in it.”

Aron closed his eyes and smiled. Sometimes it seemed as if he knew everything there was to be known about his brother, and yet he still would find a way to surprise you. Aron shook his head and opened his eyes, asking, “What changed your mind?” But he only got a brief, silent stare in his direction for an answer.

It was obvious; he didn’t want him to leave.

Aron couldn’t help himself, “Thank you.” Earning a brotherly “Shut up.” for a reply.

Aron walked around the back of the sofa to go change in his room before he joined the movie watching, when Kristjan's hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. He held out a folded piece of paper and offered it over to him, his eyes never leaving the TV.

Aron accepted it, but asked, “What is it?”

“Just sign it.” Was the only answer Kristjan deigned to give him. Aron slowly opened the paper up and read it … it was the lease to this condo.

And Kristjan had added his name to it.

Despina Montagas. Jim Londos. Spiros Arion. Greece was known for sending forth some of the most talented wrestlers from its lands. So one has to wonder why Greece was not better known for professional wrestling unto itself. After all, ancient Greeks practically invented the sport of wrestling. It was used as a means to train soldiers in hand-to-hand combat. It was a popular entry from the first Olympic games to the present day. So one has to wonder why seeing professional wrestling arrive on the shores of the Greek islands is such a rarity. Any nation steeped in such culture and history to the sport should be a mainstay, not a novelty. And yet, here we are…

Skala Kallonis Beach

There were a great many beaches throughout the island of Lesbos, this week’s stop for SCW’s “Going Home” edition of Climax Control. Hell! There were dozens upon dozens of beaches strewn about the entire COUNTRY. One beach - Petra Beach - was well known for having bars and restaurants all along its borders, much like the booths and entertainments at famous boardwalk amusement parks like Steel Pier and Belmont Amusement Park. That was one that Fenris had petitioned for the group he was a part of to visit - for all the obvious reasons, but he was quickly overruled and outvoted, much to his chagrin. As Aron had stated outright, this was a day for business before pleasure. And, in an act that Fenris practically saw as treasonous, Ben Jordan agreed with his younger sibling.

They had a match together in a matter of days, one that may not have involved a championship title but it was huge regardless due to the fact an in-ring legend would be visiting SCW and stepping inside of the ring as a ‘special attraction’ against them. And with Mac Bane as Chris Page’s partner, they were going to need to step it up. So, Ben called their mutual pal Max Burke to lend a bit of an assist with the promise of pitchers of Greek beer later. And Aron? He too had a role to play in this little venture.

“You have got to be fucking joking!” Fenris watched with his hands on his hips as he, Max Burke and Ben Jordan stood there on the beach in their wrestling gear of all things. Aron, in his own seldom used gear and bare chested as they were, used his bare toes in the sand to carefully and slowly draw the rectangle outline of a ring in the sand. Many of the beaches in Lesbos were popular with both tourists and locals alike, but that was why after a bit of research, Aron had led the group here, to Skala Kallonis. While still one of the more beautiful of the island’s beaches, it was also known for being perhaps among the quietest. Ever since the Superstars and Bombshells had first arrived for this tour, the action-starved communities followed the men and women of SCW everywhere they went to the point of stalking.

Hence why Aron had chosen this locale for what he had in mind. There were people here, and yes, some fans had followed them from their hotels to see what was going on, but it was still quieter than any other spot that Aron might have picked.

Aron looked up from where he stood just a couple of yards away from the waters and held his arms out, “K, they are still setting up the ring at the stadium! There are no wrestling schools here on the island to use and while there are gyms with boxing rings, you know as well as anyone else that those were not meant to be used to spar for a WRESTLING match! Have you got a better idea??”

“Yes!” Fenris all but bellowed hotly, Ben wincing from his right and using a pinky to dig at his deafened ear. “We forget this and hit the bars instead!”

“Seconded!” Max’s own hand shot up as if he were in class, waiting to be recognized by the teacher.

“Now don’t you start!” Ben scolded but with a laughing tone behind his voice. “I don’t see any harm in us having a bit of a spar here on the beach. It’s a lovely day out so we'll get some sun and fresh air while getting in a workout, all at the same time!”

“Thank you, Ben.” Aron nodded, grateful that someone in their little group was supportive of his idea. “Always the voice of reason.”

“Besides,” Ben added. “Ancient Greeks didn’t have a ring so why NOT go the authentic route?”

“You want authentic?” Fenris asked.

“That would be nice.” Ben admitted with a nod. “We are in Greece, after all. They have been doing this sport for thousands of years. They practically invented it!”

“Fine!” Fenris shrugged. “You want authentic, I’ll give you authentic!” And he slipped his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his wrestling shorts, readying to – but before he even made a move, Max clenched his eyes shut and fell back into the waters, struggling and calling aloud, “My eyes! My eyes!” Just as Ben slapped a restraining hand on Fenris’s wrist, preventing him from showing the world. Not that he would have, of course. While it was true public nudity was not altogether uncommon in Iceland, whereas Fenris and Aron were from Iceland, they were not IN it. Ben knew deep down Fenris wouldn’t have done it, yet he also knew the man could be unpredictable at the best of times so… better safe than sorry!

Both men bent over slightly at the waist, they met each other's eyes and Fenris asked, “I thought you said you wanted an authentic experience? Ancient Greeks wrestled naked!”

Ben reasoned (badly), “Yeah well, they also wrestled naked and oiled up! Where do we draw the line??”

Fenris just grinned wickedly and Ben closed his eyes and nodded, “Right. Dumb question.” He stood upright and grabbed Fenris by the arm, pulling him up along with him. “Just forget whatever ideas you have running around that twisted mind of yours.”

Allowing Ben to steer him over toward one of the outline’s corners to commence their public sparring session, Fenris rolled his eyes, “You never let me have any fun!”

---

Niki Studios Seafront

This hotel where Aron had booked accommodation for he and his brother was more of a traditional setting of Greek studio apartments rather than a luxurious hotel where many of the stars of SCW would find themselves staying. Fenris himself was never one to ‘over-indulge’ himself when it came to self gratification. His and Aron’s home in Las Vegas being perhaps one exception. It was simply how he was raised as a child, and it stuck throughout his adult life. Plus, as Aron knew privately, his older brother simply wanted a decent experience during their first venture to the Greek islands. He had little need for any excess that many others would use simply as an ego boost or to hype their own social status. The fact that the studios were built in an old world style and had an owner, Niki and her son, who oversaw everything and made guests feel welcome, it truly did have a breathtaking view of the sea right from the balcony of the hotel rooms. A fact that Aron knew his brother prized above all else.

Plus, it had the home feel touch that both brothers often missed when they spent the majority of the year away from their native Iceland.  The training session between the four men had been grueling but overall satisfying as Ben and Max agreed to simply return to the hotel of the brothers to freshen up and get changed before they all headed out to the city to explore and enjoy the nearby pubs and restaurants.

The door opened up to the room and right inside was the bed and desk, and a small sofa for added comfort. To the immediate left of the door was the bathroom. While Kristjan traditionally preferred white in his surroundings, the room’s overall color scheme was done in shades of browns and blues. Aron had the good manners to open the door and then step aside so that Kristjan and his guests, Ben and Max, could set foot inside first, only entering after.

Once Kristjan was inside, Ben playfully quipped, “Mine is bigger.” To which Aron entered, brushing between his friend and his brother, saying, “Just whip them out and let’s have a room measuring contest.” To which Ben smiled brightly at the saucy remark, unable to believe that Aron had it in him while Kristjan just rolled his eyes.

Aron then directed Max to the bathroom while Kristjan was set to shut the door when a soft rap on the other side gave him pause and caused heads to turn. Kristjan opened the door wide and there stood an older, diminutive Greek woman in her late years. Niki, owner and proprietor of the hotel. They knew simply because upon their arrival, she and her son welcomed them graciously and personally. An unusual thing but it is part of what made it so enjoyable for tourists the world over.

"Με συγχωρείς?" The older Greek woman spoke up. "To πακέτο σας κύριε?"

Aron stepped up and said, "She said she has a package delivery for you."

Ben looked at Aron with a quizzical expression and he said as more of a statement than a question, “You speak Greek now too?” Referencing the fact that the younger of the two Icelandic siblings was fluent in both English as well as Chinese.

“No.” Aron shook his head. “ I just took the time to learn a few basics before we came.” He looked past Ben and pointedly toward Kristjan, “Unlike SOME people.” To which Kristjan just huffed. He took the package and then turned to the old lady and gave her a polite nod, one would she returned in kind before waving goodbye. Kristjan shut the door behind her and proceeded to open the package, and once he looked inside at the contents he looked at Ben, "Seriously!?" He exclaimed, waving the package in hand. "Even here!?"

Aron took a step closer to see what the big deal was, and glancing inside at the box, he saw a large quantity of chapsticks. Aron snorted back a laugh, but choked it off at the look on his brother's face.

Ben shrugged with an innocent but impish grin on his face. "I thought with David visiting, you could use the extra protection." Ben glanced at Aron and said, "Or David could."

Aron chuckled as he took a seat on the sofa, while Ben walked across the hotel room toward Kristjan's stash of alcohol to fix himself something before their night out. Neither paying attention to the contemplative look on Kristjan's face before he opened up one of the chapsticks and begun to apply it.

Glass in hand, Ben walked back over and took a seat beside Aron. He asked the younger of the two, "So is my boy ready? He and the Mac gave each other hell, but he told me that he had no idea who Chris Page is."

Aron answered, "Devil's advocate but I didn't know who the man was either. I had to contact Gabriel back home and ask if he could send me any videos of the man."

Behind them, Kristjan started to say something but found himself unable. His eyes open slightly in alarm and he started grabbing at his mouth.

"Mph!"

"And did he?" Ben questioned and Aron nodded.

"Aron answered. "What he was able, yes. I've looked up more information on the web while I've had K watching what he could."

"That right?" Ben called back to Fenris over his shoulder, not seeing the man frantically pulling at his jaw and mouth. "Oy!" Ben called again but this time cast to look over his shoulder and frowned at what he was seeing. Aron noticed this and looked also.

"MPHHRRPH!" Kristjan mumbled through his clenched lips, arms flaying. "Mrgh!"

"What's that Lassie?" Ben asked, teasing his close friend. "Did little Timmy fall down the well again?"

Mac stepped out of the bathroom, still glistening from the hot shower and clothes still clinging to his body. Not even aging attention to the conversation around him, he still offers, "I always thought that dog was the one who pushed Timmy down the well in the first place...ow!"

He exclaimed when the box sailed across the hotel room and struck him in the back of the head! Max turned around and faced Fenris, rubbing the side of his head. "Hey!" He exclaimed.

"Mate!" Ben reprimanded him. "What is going on with you!?"

"MMPH!!" Kristjan (tried) to say heatedly as he then threw the chapstick in his hand at Ben, but Ben was swift enough to catch it in his hand. Kristjan motioned towards it and only then did Ben look at it and say, "Oh hey! This isn't chapstick, it's a glue stick."

Ben looked up at Kristjan motioning wildly and said, "Oh... Oh." He looked back down at the glue stick in his hand and then up at Kristjan and his eyes opened wide, "OH!"

---

“Tag team wrestling. Isn’t that just perfect?”

“This may come as something of a surprise to you, but I am the sort of man that does not do well with change. It’s become something of a running joke in my everyday life that I am a creature of habit. I have a routine from the time that I wake up to when I go to bed, and I do not like to stray, even a little. Don’t get me wrong. I have a social life alongside family and friends, but I am talking more about my professional life and my training alongside it. Like, for example, I could be out drinking with friends such as Ben Jordan and Max Burke and, for lack of a better term, we all get lit. But when 5am comes along, do I forgo my usual morning run, no matter what city I am in at the time? No. I might have the hangover from hell and want to turn my guts inside out, but I will not stop.”

“Ever.”

“It is simply who and how I am, and how I always have been. I do not stop or ease up because I have brought myself up to a certain standard that I intend to keep. I believe that my training and routine have made me who and what I am, and I will not see that crash and burn for a moment of weakness. Now you might ask what routines and comfort zones have to do with the situation I am in this week, but trust me when I say that there’s a method to my madness. There always is.”

“I am not what you might call a student of the sport but what I can tell you is that I have learned there have been many great tag teams in this business. Sinful Obsession. Team Hero. The Fallen. Reckless Elite. Just to name a few. But me? I am not one of them. Never have been, and as good as I believe myself to be, I can honestly say that I doubt I ever will be.”

“I guess you might say my reluctance towards tag team wrestling is because from the time I was fighting in amateur MMA circles to when I graduated to the professional ranks, right up to where I evolved and adapted to professional wrestling, I’ve had one person to rely on; myself. I have people around me who have always supported me and encouraged me, but I am the one who was stepping inside of the cage or the wrestling ring. I am the one who was putting my body on the line to be the best and beat the best. I’ve bled. I’ve broken a few bones in my time - mine as well as opponents. But my point is, I learned when it came to competing, I had to rely on myself inside of the ring. It does not work that way in tag team wrestling and that is perhaps why I have always held the division at arm’s length. I simply do not like putting my career and the likelihood of success on the shoulders of another. I do not like simply standing on the outside of the ring and watching, waiting for a tag so I can step into the ring and do what I know I do best. Rather than relying on just myself, I am relying on someone else and that is about as foreign a concept to me as pickles on pizza.”

“I am used to getting my way I suppose in most walks of life, but unfortunately, I have come to realize that not everything can go my way in this business. I can count on one hand the number of times that the higher ups have made me be involved in tag team matches, whether I wanted to or not. For them it was not a matter of what I wanted, but a matter of what the audience wanted. That is their revenue. That is where their decisions come into play. Fair point I suppose, I can not argue with that. Well, I can but it would serve me little purpose. The powers that be are in the business to make money and entertain the fans, and hopefully both goals go hand in hand. And if that goal coerces me into a field I am no expert in or takes me out of my comfort zone, so be it.”

“I can’t go and say that the few tag team partners I’ve had in the past have not been successful. Teaming alongside Courtney Pierce got me that first taste of success as the 2018 Blast From the Past Champions. I’ve also teamed with Ty West, and my own brother Aron. And now here I am, teaming with the one man - the only man - who has back to back wins over me and gave me the greatest challenges of my career … Ben Jordan.”

“To say I was not thrilled about being booked in a tag team match is probably the understatement of the century, but I could not be happier with who I was teamed with. Ben Jordan is probably my closest friend in this business. A man who I both respect and admire. Someone who has been there for me even during times I do not think I deserved to have anyone in my corner. A man I have confided to some of my worst, and has seen me through some of my best. He is one of the few who has held my confidence without judgment and that is not something that I look back on and take for granted. The world over knows the past he and I have shared. Even when what you might call professional jealousy over the World title reared its ugly head, it did not sever the bond that he and I shared. We did not fall into that trap that so many other so-called friendships in this business fall into. We fought. He won. We endured.”

“End of story.”

“I could not ask for a more reliable man to team with in this instance. Not just because I know I can put my full trust in him to watch my back, but because I know professionally Ben Jordan simply KNOWS tag team wrestling. The man is a former two-time World Tag Team Champion in SCW and held the ACW gold as well. We may not have ever teamed together before, but going into this match I know I couldn’t have been given a better or more reliable partner. It is why I have the most confidence that we will walk away the winners.”

“Not that our opponents will make things easy on us. Far from it! We are up against Mac Bane, the reigning World Heavyweight Champion. A man I defeated once before in the distant past, and a man who has risen to the occasion and held me at bay long enough to where I was unable to repeat history just a matter of days ago. I can not find fault with what happened at the end of our match, Bane. If you were going to go down, I imagine you thought you were going to take me down with you and in a sense, that is exactly what you did. No contest. Double count out. Call it whatever you want, but what I call it is unfinished business.”

“Mac, the first time we went at it, you told the world that earning my respect meant the world to you. Well you have that and you have never lost it. Even when we were professional rivals of sorts, you still offered to step up and watch my back when Aron and I were having our issues with the Good Shepherds. You were actually the only one that did. That is not something I have ever forgotten, but it will always be something that I appreciate. Still, you know me, Bane. The way you and I fought only days ago proved that we both know each other too well because neither of us were able to get the win, and you are now one of the few blemishes that I have on my record. And that - that bothers me, Mac. I may not like losing, but it is a fact in this sport that everyone loses. Loses in any and every sport. My record was not without marks in the loss column when I fought in EliteXL, and both Ben Jordan and Austin James Mercer proved to me that I was not above being beaten as a professional wrestler.”

“But there's a vast difference between losing a match and being unable to win one. Leaving one without a winner - at all. That bothers me more than you realize. Now most people would be satisfied with a result like that, especially when they were in the ring with the current World Champion. They might like to use logic and think to themselves ‘Well I may not have won, but at least I didn’t lose, either. Well … I am not most people. I do not like leaving questions unanswered, and the question I had in my mind going into that match was would I - could I - beat the World Champion and prove that I deserve to compete for the World Heavyweight title and become a two-time champion. I did not get an answer to that question, Mac, which brings us to this one. This match between us can only serve one purpose between us. To answer that question. To tell the world whether or not I should be in the ring with you, and with that pretty gold belt of yours being on the line. It is not the same, but I will take this as what you might call a consolation prize.”

“And Chris Page… when I first learned that Page would be standing in Mac’s corner last Sunday, my first reaction was ‘Who!?’ Then I wanted to know ‘Why?’! Then when Mac and I were unable to get a decisive win between us and Mark Ward and Christian Underwood told us we would be settling things in this tag team match, what I wanted to know was .. why? They are labeling this match as a ‘special attraction’ and I guess I am lost as to what is making it so special aside from the fact the World Champion is involved, as are Ben and myself. No knock on Page, but I simply do not know who the man is! That, I admit, is more on me than it is on him. Ben sure as hell knows who he is because he has been acting like a kid turned loose in a toy store! He has been going on without end about the chance to step inside of the ring with such a distinguished competitor as Chris Page whereas I felt like I was being left completely in the dark. My own fault I imagine for not being a so-called student of the game, but not being familiar with Chris Page puts me at a distinct disadvantage and I’ll tell you something… I do not like the way that feels. So I did the only thing I could think of doing, and I asked my brother, as my manager, to dig up whatever he could on Page so I wouldn’t be walking into this match and looking like a goddamn fool.”

“Got to hand it to you, Chris. I can see why Ben is looking forward to this match. You’ve been involved in this sport longer than most of us and have come away smelling like a rose, more often than not. A current Tag Team Champion in IIW? That puts you in a pretty good spot going into this match on Sunday, doesn’t it? You know the tag team side of the equation and what it takes to be successful in it. I sat back and watched some of your matches in Fight! Against men like Austin Ramsey and Brandon Moore and shit! You’ve got a damn near spotless record and I saw why. You do not last as long as you have in a sport like this without knowing what the hell you’re doing.

“By the time I was done watching footage from IIW and Fight!, I had seen enough. I knew what I would be in for soon, and it was not going to make things easy. Not on me, and if you’ve done your own homework, then you’d know that neither Ben nor I would be making things easy on you.

“But I am going to tell you another reason why I (think) I like you Page, and it has even less to do with what you can accomplish inside of the ring and more so what you do not do from the outside. Everyone, myself included, felt that I was going to have to keep my eyes on my back last Sunday when I faced Mac. Once again, I did not know you so I only had past experiences to rely on when someone I faced had someone in their corner. And that experience told me that the first chance you got, you were going to try and lend a hand to your friend to help him get a win over me. Except – you did nothing of the kind. You stood at Mac’s corner, quiet and contemplative. You called out encouragement and some advice when warranted, but that was as far as you went in getting involved. You did not attempt to distract me. You did not try to get physically involved when the official may have been distracted. You took the high road from the start of the match to the finish and for that? I am both grateful and humbled - which is not an easy thing to admit. You proved me wrong about yourself, and I can only thank you in one, simple way;”

“I am going to go into this match and fight you harder than I have fought any man I have been in the ring with! I am going to bring it to you like you deserve. This may be your guest appearance for Sin City Wrestling, but I am also going to see to it that it is your swan song. And I do not say that out of malice. I say it out of respect.

"I am not infallible. And as much as I would like to fool myself and leave others to believe? I am not perfect. Close, but not quite. The simple fact of the matter is I know what I am capable of, both inside of the ring as well as the cage. And I know how damn good I am. I had to be. It's why I started fighting professionally in the first place.”

“Because I kept getting in trouble for fighting at school.”

Borgarholtsskóli - Reykjavík, Iceland
Many years ago

A young and disgruntled Kristjan Baltasarsson sat in the waiting room of the headmistress’s office at the school he and his siblings had attended as a small piece of a new family tradition. One in which his parents Benedikt and Eva had high hopes of being passed down through their children and their children’s children. They would simply be lucky were one of their children be allowed to continue to his graduating year. Seated across the waiting room was another boy, and like Kristjan, he too was also wearing the school uniform. Both looked like they had been put through the proverbial wringer as far as the repercussions at what happened between the two of them, although if truth were to be told, the other boy looked a bit worse for wear. They had been left to their private thoughts, all the better to stew or to worry, when the office door opened and out stepped a well respected woman in her middle years, the Headmistress of the school, Missus Agneta Finnvarðsdóttir.

Missus Finnvarðsdóttir said in a soft voice but one that spoke of a steel-edged nature, all the better when dealing with well over a thousand students in a close-knit environment. “Kristjan? Dagur? Step inside please.”

And by ‘please,’ she clearly meant ‘right now.’ Both boys paid heed and did as instructed, yes - even the hard headed Kristjan. The two boys got up from their respective chairs and entered the office, and seated there was a real reason to worry - both of their mothers were sitting right there, front and center. And all eyes were on their sons, although Kristjan noted a look of disdain in Dagur’s mother’s own eyes and aimed in his direction, not at her own child but at him. There was random teasing at school that Dagur was ‘mommy’s little angel’ and Kristjan already suspected that she was ready to place the sole blame on this altercation on him and him alone.

Both boys took the vacant chairs beside their mothers and only then did Missus Finnvarðsdóttir begin, “Boys, I already informed your mothers what happened. But I thought it would also be best if you were to explain to them in your own words why you were fighting.”

Neither boy was anxious to speak up, and both remained silent until finally Dagur’s mother spoke up, “I think it’s perfectly obvious what happened. That boy…” She directed a point of her digit at Kristjan, “...Savaged my Dagur.”

Prompting Eva to roll her eyes and speak softly, “Kristjan did not ‘savage’ your little angel.” Note that Eva spoke with no small trace of sarcasm when she uttered the words ‘little angel,’ because indeed all throughout the mothers’ talk with Missus Finnvarðsdóttir, Dagur’s mother indeed was attempting to shelve the blame for what happened entirely on Kristjan’s shoulders. Dagur’s mother turned toward her at the waist and asked, “Oh? Were you there?”

“No.” Eva replied calmly. “I just happen to know my son did not ‘savage’ yours.”

“And how exactly do you know this?”

Eva took up the gauntlet and answered matter-of-factly, “Because if he had your son would look a lot worse than he does right now.”

Dagur’s mother looked like she wanted to say something sharp and witty to retort that particular observation/opinion on her son’s fighting prowess, but she more closely resembled a hooked fish the way her mouth opened and closed, until the words of the Headmistress interrupted any further debate between the two parental units.

Missus Finnvarðsdóttir said, “Ladies, please. We are here for the boy’s benefit, and much as you might wish to believe otherwise…” he turned toward Dagur’s mother for emphasis, “Neither boy is innocent.”

Dagur’s mom was fuming, refusing to believe otherwise but Missus Finnvarðsdóttir stated further, “I have over ten eye witnesses who stated Dagur ruined Kristjan’s engine project with the class’s detailing airbrush.”

(There’s a fun fact for you! Before he ventured into the world of MMA, and then wrestling, the teenage Kristjan possessed a love of cars and wanted to work on them for a living!)

But true to form, Dagur’s mom stated simply, “It had to have been an accident.”

“Missus Einarsdóttir,” Missus Finnvarðsdóttir sighed, feeling exasperated at this point by the mother’s particular brand of coddling. “I checked with the shop steward. The airbrush is on the other side of the class from where the engine projects were being worked on. It would have had to have been picked up, carried clear across the shop floor and then used.” She clasped her fingers together and leaned forward against her desk, her eyes burning straight into her own, “Now please explain how that could have been an accident?”

But there was no answer forthcoming from Missus Einarsdóttir as she could think of no way, be it logical or otherwise, that could explain her son’s actions, rendering him blameless. Missus Finnvarðsdóttir turned toward Dagur and simply asked, “Why?”

Dagur fidgeted, looking everywhere but at the eyes of his own mother until she barked, “Answer her!”

Dagur jumped at the barking command and said, “Because he ruined my mathematics score.”

Missus Einarsdóttir  looked at Eva and then at the Headmistress with a smug expression, as if her son had just been vindicated and said, “There, you see? My son was acting…” But Missus Finnvarðsdóttir held up her hand to silence the woman, earning a smirk from Kristjan. Missus Finnvarðsdóttir looked at Dagur and asked simply, “How exactly did he do that?”

But again. No answer came from the teenager, so she instead turned toward Kristjan and didn’t even have to ask verbally. She raised her eyebrows inquisitively and Kristjan simply stated, “I wouldn’t let him copy my answers on the test.”

“Is that true?” Missus Finnvarðsdóttir asked Dagur, but the boy did not answer.

“Is it??” His own mother prodded, but all he did was shrug his shoulders and attempt to hide into himself.

“So…” Missus Finnvarðsdóttir paraphrased. “Dagur attempted to cheat off Kristjan's test but was not allowed. So he decided to pay him back by ruining his own class project in our automotive program. And that is how the fight started.”

She then opened a drawer in her desk and removed two forms that she began to fill out, speaking while doing so, “Fighting on school grounds is strictly prohibited. Neither boy is innocent in this so I am afraid both boys will face a three day in-school suspension…”

As she went on to further explain what that would entail, Kristan felt his mother’s eyes fall onto him but he would not face that gaze. He knew what he would see if he did; disappointment.

---

“And that was the first time I ever got into a fight at school, and as you probably know by now, it wasn’t my last.”

“You know, I have to admit that is one thing that I always found peculiar about fighting professionally. Whether it's in professional wrestling or Mixed Martial Arts, why is it acceptable as an adult to fight for the entertainment of others but as a child, you get shamed by parental authorities - or any adult, really? Those same men and women who tell their children that fighting is wrong - that fighting never solves anything - are the very same ones you find in the audiences at any competitive combat sport, whether it be inside of the Octagon cage or the professional wrestling ring.”

“The similarities are obvious between the two circumstances. As a child, you see a fight on the school grounds, what did you do? You stand with friends and peers, forming a circle around the two throwing down and watch for your own amusement and chant the schoolyard chant of ‘Fight! Fight!’ But as an adult? You pay for the same form of entertainment - as if that somehow makes it better. You sit in the stands or watch online or on the TV and you do the same as you did when a child; you cheer for your favorites and call out for more. The only difference is, you are a couple of decades older in doing so. And somehow that makes it alright. You are punished for fighting as a child, but you all but reward an adult for fighting with high winning purses and gold championship belts.”

“Fucking hypocrites.”

---

“No! Absolutely not!”

Eva cried as Kristjan sat at the family dining table, along with his father and his mother. After yet another fight and suspension, the headmistress of his school had sent their family home with a selection of after-school athletics that might benefit the teenager and his perpetual issues with anger of which it seemed to be without limit. Only one Eva had to herself strictly forbidden … and that just so happened to be the one that Kristjan had selected; boxing. Or in this [articular case - kickboxing. Not out of malice or to rebel against her authority, but because it was a sport that he was genuinely interested in. In fact, he was interested in many forms of self defense and it was why he had been enrolled in more than one martial arts class.

“I thought we agreed about this!” Eva turned to Benedikt, who was looking over the form that Kristjan had come downstairs with as per his choice. Benedikt glanced up at his wife and pointed out, “No, you agreed on this. I think that this should be Kristjan’s decision, and his alone.”

“But - boxing…?” She protested and Kristjan pointed out, “It is kickboxing, mom…”

Eva huffed and looked heavenward, as if seeking divine guidance or intervention, “I don’t care if you’re hitting someone with your fists or your feet! It’s still boxing and I don’t like it…”

“But I DO!” Kristjan stressed, then added, “And Missus Finnvarðsdóttir said it herself; this is about me. She gave me all those choices so… shouldn’t I be allowed to choose?”

Eva looked completely torn but Benedikt touched her shoulder with his fingertips, then clicked his fingers and pointed toward their oldest son. As if to silently tell her that the lad was right. Eva just cast a glance down and shook her head.

---

“My mother never did approve of what was quickly becoming the starting point of my future careers. She never even liked the fact that I was taking Judo classes. She would always tell me that I was going to hurt my ‘handsome appearance,’ but deep down I don’t even think that was the real cause for her concern. Boxing. Kickboxing. Any form of martial arts or full contact sport - she knew, and she was right - that I could have been seriously hurt. And all in the name of a competitive sport.”

“I can’t fault her for being my mom and being concerned. It’s what mothers do. I probably would have been hurt or disappointed had she not put up a struggle against my involvement. Hah… if you could have only seen her reaction after my first amateur kickboxing match…”

---

“Oh my god…” Eva bemoaned her oldest son as she all but forced Kristjan to take a seat at the head of the dining room table, normally Benedikt’s spot but this case took priority. It was just as Eva feared, and as she had warned her husband - Kristjan had been hurt and his ‘handsome appearance’ had been somewhat marred. He sat there, front and center with his right eye almost swollen and completely shut. He was sporting a beauty of a shiner beneath that very same eye. But perhaps what frightened Eva the most were his blood stained teeth which were either the result of his split upper lip, or the fact one particular blow from his opponent had caused him to inadvertently bite the inside of his cheek. His condition was bad enough that his two elder sisters said nothing, volatile though they were. They would never admit it outright but they were too surprised that any boy was capable of doing this to their brother. Freyja, the youngest, openly cried and was immediately sent to her room. Aron, caring as always, did what little he was able to do in order to help care for the older brother he so looked up to; running for a cool, wet cloth and some ice. Even Kristjan's beloved Jokull had attended his fight and wanted to help Kristjan afterwards, but Benedikt knew it would be for the best to take the young man home so he wouldn't witness the storm the father knew would erupt the moment they got home. But Eva? The moment Benedikt escorted Kristjan inside of their home, and she set eyes on her boy's condition (because she refused to go and see him take part in something so barbaric), one could be forgiven for the mistaken assumption that a mother bear had just been turned loose!

“Oh my poor handsome boy…!” Eva cupped her boy's face in her hands, displaying the concern only a mother was capable of.

She stood upright and turned at the waist her eyes bearing down on that of her husband's and what would soon become a battle of wills between a mother and a father over what direction their eldest son would be raised.

"That is it!" She declared hotly with a sense of finality. "No more! He is done and finished with this nonsense!"

"Eva…" Benedikt started to argue but his wife had built a full head of steam and she was not about to be deterred just yet.

"Absolutely not!" She took a stance beside Kristjan and held a hand toward him as it presenting him for the first time. "Do you even see the condition of our boy!? How can you even consider allowing him to continue with this barbarism!?"

Before Benedikt could even form a response in his mind, he was interrupted by his wife's continued tirade over her child's well-being. "Did you even get the boy's name who did this!? Did you have a word with his father!?"

"Do not be ridiculous!" Benedikt was forced to raise his voice, so that his wife would give him the chance to speak. "It was an athletic competition! Not some schoolyard fight! They do not go around tattling on one another just because one got a bit banged up!"

"A bit…" Eva started to say, but they had forgotten about the third person in the room. The one they were arguing over and the one who spoke up in his own defense by saying simply, "I am not quitting!"

The eyes of both parents turned towards their eldest son as he looked absolutely defiant toward his mother. A shocking turn of events considering Kristjan was known to be an absolute mama's boy, practically worshiping the ground that his mother walked on.

"Kristjan… honey…" She had started to say but he practically jetted his chin out, his good eye staring straight at her. He gave a slight shake of the head, stating "I am not quitting. I like this. I have to keep going if I want to get better. Aren’t you and Dad always the ones telling us not to quit just because things don’t always go our way?"

"You heard him dear." Benedikt said in as calm and soothing of a voice as he could muster given the circumstance. "He's not hurt that badly. Nothing that he won't heal from. This is his choice, so let him make it."

Eva stared hard first toward Benedikt, and then at Kristjan before she resigned herself to head toward the bathroom and get the first aid kit so she could at least help clean her boy up and treat his wounds.

“Don't be upset with your mother.” Benedikt gripped his son’s shoulder proudly. “She could not stop you from fighting so she has to do something that she can control. And that's to take care of her children.”

Kristjan turned his head to look up at his father with his one good eye, and he saw the wisp of a smile, but the strong sense of pride that emanated from his father. Benedikt tightened the grip on Kristjan’s shoulder and whispered, “You fought well, son.”

“I lost…” Kristan pointed out, as the judges had awarded his opponent the victory by a mere point, devastating Kristjan who had expected the victory in hand.

“So you lost, big deal.” Benedikt smiled, offering the words of comfort that could only come from being a dad. “It was just your first fight. It won’t be your last fight, or your last loss. You will get experience, and you will do better next time. And the time after that. The most important thing is that you keep trying so long as you want to, and you do not give up just because of a loss.”

Words to live by, and live by Kristjan did from that point on. From his amateur competitive fights, clear toward the future when he first set foot into the world of Mixed Martial Arts; first as an amateur and then as a professional.

Kristjan turned to look down and softly exhaled, the effort causing a stinging jab in his bruised ribs. He spoke casually, “Could be worse I guess.”

“How so?” His father asked.

“Mom could find out my tooth got knocked loose.” Kristjan quipped.

Benedikt turned to look in the direction Eva had left, then turned back to his son and said, “Yes, well… let’s just hold off on telling her that for now…”

---

“Maaan! I thought I was the SHIT when I got my license to fight as a professional! I came in with a damn near spotless record in the amateur circuit. I had the best trainer in Maksym Petrov! There was nothing that these bitches could throw my way that I obviously wouldn’t have an answer for! I mean, when I was touring the amateur circuit, I was THE big fish in a small pond. Trouble is, I never figured once this big fish hit an even bigger ocean, that there would be some sharks circling.”

“I thought I knew everything. I thought I was the biggest bad ass the world had to offer. I was wrong. I hadn't earned that distinction. Not yet. It got beat into me in more ways than one that I still had a lot to learn. And where Maksym felt he could not aid me or teach me further, he knew just who - and what - I needed if I wanted to forge ahead. That was when he introduced me to Kalei Hale, and for that I will forever be grateful. That woman taught me humility in a way no man ever had before or since!”

---

Prague, Czech Republic - O2 Arena
EliteXL - 2015

I know! Not bad, eh? When young Kristjan Baltasarsson had, after several years working his ass off, earned the right to move up from the amateur ranks in the world of Mixed Martial Arts and sign his professional  license, who knew his management team would score such a lofty debut such as this? Not only was his debut signed to take place internationally, but in the city of Prague! A wondrous city that Kristjan never dared dream of being able to visit, yet here he was! And more so, the opportunity to fight against Akihiko Aoki, a young rookie from Sapporo, Japan.

It was not the opening moments of the third round, and both young men were sore from the shots thrown by the other, and such a short yet frantic pace had both feeling worn. One never truly understands unless you are inside of that Octagon, just how grueling a few short minutes might be when throwing down your best blows, and more daunting - receiving them as well.

The moment that bell went off, Akihiko performed a takedown on Kristjan, sweeping his legs out from under him and landing right on top! The fall caused the back of Kristjan’s head to strike the mat and winded him, but he had enough sense to instinctively wrap his legs around the head and upper body of Aoki, while grabbing at his arm in a hanging arm trap; Akihiko’s own weight being used against him in the hangman’s position! Akihiko uses his free arm to throw stinging shots at Kristjan’s exposed face, then attempts to bring his elbow down into him as the two men wrestle from their mat-based position.

After a roll through, both men grapple their way to their feet and Akihiko has Kristjan in a front facelock. Kristjan tries to pull his leg out from under him but as both men go down, Akihiko uses his lithe and flexible body to counter, ending up atop of Baltasarsson, locking him into a reverse armbar! The pain was instantaneous, and Kristjan wasted little time in slapping his free hand against Akihiko’s thigh, signaling the referee that he was tapping out!

The crowd  cheered as a jubilant Akihiko Aoki jumped to his feet with both gloved fists raised high in the air, celebrating, while a thoroughly dejected Kristjan sat on the mat, feeling waves of disappointment wash over him for having lost his big debut. Akihiko, however, came over to him and offered his hand, to which Kristjan accepted and he was helped to his feet and met his opponent in a fierce embrace of good sportsmanship!

---

“I can just imagine some of my supporters, or more so my detractors, reacting to the fact that I tapped out in my first fight. I’m not ashamed to admit to the fact. Maybe back then I was more so embarrassed than anything else, but I was taught long ago by Maksym and others that only a fool would risk a serious injury in a submission hold out of nothing more than pride. I was escorted backstage by my manager, my coach and yes - Aron. I was in a low place after that loss, and despite I had a brother there who was telling me all of the usual things - ‘Oh you’ll do better next time!’ and ‘He just got lucky!’ - Maksym was not one to coddle a student of his and he simply had me back in the gym at his earliest convenience and had me working all the harder to develop a thick skin and earn the tenacious reputation that I’ve slowly earned over the years.”

“The same reputation that turned me from Kristjan Baltasarsson and made me Fenris.”

---

A darkened and empty gym. A door is heard shutting from somewhere within, followed up by the sound of light footsteps echoing off of the floor, the acoustics reflecting off of the surrounding walls was highly impressive. Then - nothing. Nothing until a single light from above was switched on, basking the encaged Octagon fighting ring beneath its soft illumination. And standing dead center of that cage, reminiscing, was “the White Wolf” Fenris. He was seemingly prepared for a fight, wearing his treasured white leather jacket and matching latex shorts, his bare feet wearing nothing but a simple but comfortable pair of flip flops. Hands on his hips, he slowly turns around in a semi-circle, his eyes taking in the mesh cage that surrounded him on all eight sides.

“I know my upcoming match against you JC isn’t in the heart of the octagon or even in a Lion’s den, but all things considered between us, this somehow seems more than appropriate. So I hope you won’t mind indulging me while I reminisce. And even if you do mind…”

He shrugged his broad shoulders with indifference.

“Maybe one day.”

“What came before as opposed to what lies ahead. I could go on and on, wasting everyone’s time and list the name of every single man I’ve stepped inside of the ring with since I first signed with SCW, but I’ll spare you from having to hear it and Mercedes Vargas was I to go to her for the details. Let’s just say that I’ve been blessed with a variety of opposition, everyone from rookies to veterans, from high-flyers to technical masters. From seven foot GIANTS to a fucking ‘little person’! (Yes, I’m serious! Rookie year, Blast From the Past 2018! You’re the shit, Shorty!) My point is that I have had little to complain about. I’ve been treated very well by SCW staff for giving me (most) of what I ask for and my brother for arranging everything in my career, from contracts to travel accommodations. I’ve walked into plenty of matches, I don’t mind telling you, thinking I was going to run right over these poor sons a bitches, only to walk away afterwards with a whole new respect for the man I was just in there against. (Caleb Storm, talking about you! Get well soon brother!) As one man once said about me when I first showed up, all I want is competition. I am not one of these assholes (I am an asshole by my own admission) who wants everything handed to him on a silver platter. I don’t want the easiest of matches against the lowest of opponents, thinking in some misguided way that the more wins I get means the faster track straight to the top!”

He sneered and shook his head.

“I was told, and I still believe to this day, that it is the quality of the competition that makes the man, that makes the champion! You can’t beat some shit show like the Troll a dozen times over and think you’re going to be handed a title shot over someone who faces and beats someone like say – Alex Jones or Mac Bane. When I was the World Champion, I was willing to fight anybody - ANYBODY! But – I wanted the best. Because how can anyone take you seriously as the best, if you don’t face and defeat the best? And after that title was long gone from around my waist? I never lost track of that train of thought. I’m no fucking good if I don’t face and beat the best. You make a career out of wrestling the bottom of the barrel, your skills in the ring and in here…”

He tapped a forefinger to his temple.

“Might as well atrophy from lack of use. I will not allow that to happen. I refuse! The harder of a fight a man gives me inside of not just the ring but the cage, the harder I have to push myself not to just survive, but to overcome. There were one or two men I left the ring, wondering why the fuck I even bothered wasting my time. There were men who not only earned my respect because of their perseverance and tenacity, but I am proud to say I actually became friends with them outside of the ring. (Talking to you, Ben Jordan!)

“But in the last four years, there have been three men who I was legit excited to step inside of the ring with.”

He counts off of his fingers, staring directly into the camera, as he recites each name.

“Ben Jordan, for all the obvious reasons. There has never been a more well-rounded athlete inside of the ring than ‘the Cockney King.’ Ben Jordan gave me the toughest match of my career! The best match of my career! Jake Raab, because he was the first ever legit mixed martial artist but I got the chance to step into the ring with. He wasn't some sad little bitch like Quinton Cross who saw the attention I was getting as an MMA fighter and immediately had to get a piece of the action. ‘I'm an MMA fighter too’ He all but cried, trying to steal some of the spotlight Mark Ward was giving me to hopefully get a little extra attention for himself. Where is he now?”

He jets a thumb behind him.

“Gone. After just one match as I recall. And then, the third. And who else could it be but Austin James Mercer? What started out as professional respect devolved to the point he and I were ready to kill each other. How can I but help respect the first man who ever managed to put my shoulders down to the mat, ending not only a 343 day undefeated streak, but my 245 day World Heavyweight title run as well? A man who at one point, put my brother in the hospital. But on the other side of the coin, kept Supreme Machine from doing the very same thing. Going on record right now and calling Mercer the best big man in the business. Which brings me to a new name. The fourth man I've ever looked forward to facing this much…”

“JC.”

“Man, from the very moment that you stepped through the door, I knew this was a match that I had to have! Not since Jake Raab … not since myself! .. Have I see  such a tough, hard hitting mother fucker such as you! Which just goes to show not to judge before you see a man first hand because when Aron told me that SCW had signed a guy named JC, I thought it must be some K-Pop boy band bullshit! I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“This whole business of yours, going around and telling the world that ‘JC Kills’... What is that, exactly? Tag line? Some attempt to get under the skin of the man you’re about to face or give them a hint of just how bad of a beating you’re about to lay into them with? Ah, that must be it!”

He held up a hand and nodded with a solemn expression.

“I get it. I get you, now. Intimidation. That’s why you say it - every chance that you get. Which when you get right down to it, seems … well, sad. If I’m going to be honest. I’ve watched everything that you’ve done since you arrived in Sin City Wrestling and fucking A, JC! Normally I’d say trying to intentionally intimidate someone with such cheap ass theatrics is unworthy of someone like you. You’re a big guy. You can obviously fight and kick ass. Good look to go with that bad ass rep. Isn’t that enough!? I mean, what the fuck else do you need? You can’t actually be saying that you absolutely need to get some psychological edge over your opponent if you hope to beat them!”

He paused and shrugged.

“Okay, point taken. Any edge is a positive in a fight, but the fact you work overtime day in and day out, trying to psyche out men half your size isn’t smart. It isn’t even

“Take me for a prime example. Looking at me, you wouldn’t think I’d accomplished half the shit I’ve accomplished in MMA or professional wrestling. I’m just six feet tall, and I’m not even considered a Junior Heavyweight in this sport. Gabriel Stevens referred to me as a cruiserweight. When I first came into this business, I was asked if my ‘gimmick’ was some surfer dude bullshit! Ben Jordan calls me ‘fish lips.’ (Fuck you for that BTW, Ben! Stop sending me chap stick!) My oldest sister said I look like a Ken doll. My point… sexy a fucker as I am, this…”

He waved a hand up and over his face and body in a gesture of self presentation.

“... Doesn’t exactly inspire intimidation on looks alone, and you know something? I am perfectly fine with that! Who the fuck cares!? I know what I look like, and yes I am proud of my appearance! But in the ring that shit doesn’t matter! Now, my reputation that I’ve earned since I first came to SCW? That is where my intimidation comes into play. I’ve never been much with words, so I don’t need to go around telling the world how big of a bad ass I am. They know that just by watching me! They watch me go up against men twice my size and I still beat them down into the ground! They see me go up against some of wrestling’s best technical masters and I can still wrestle them down and make them tap! I’ve had men shit themselves with the thought of stepping inside of the ring against me and I didn’t have to even speak a single word! Take that as a free piece of advice JC; the best intimidation? Is the one where you don’t have to say a goddamn thing! People just KNOW!”

“Why the hell do you think you even need to try and directly intimidate someone!? Why do you feel the need to tell the world how it’s been over a year since you’ve been pinned and longer than even that since you’ve been forced to tap out to someone, anyone! Whether in your promos or on social media, it's become a wash, rinse and repeat routine for you. Yes, we know how long it’s been since you’ve been beaten. And we know how long it’ll be until you’ve been taken down and beaten for the first time in over a year…”

He cast a look to the far right wall of the gym where hung a calendar. He pointed toward it, then gave the camera a smarmy grin.

“Eight days. That’s how long it’ll be before you suffer your first loss in SCW. And not to rub salt in the soon-to-be wounds, but really, JC. You’ve got only yourself to blame. You do understand the more you brag about having not been pinned or submitted in over a year, it only paints an even bigger and more glaringly obvious target on your back? You might as well have a flashing neon sign hanging above your head that says off and on, ‘Beat me! Beat me!’ And I can, and I will. You see, you recently won a World Championship for yourself elsewhere, am I right? Well, that’s not going to happen here. At least, not just yet. You see, there’s a pecking order around here, and I am right toward the top of that list. And you wondered who would be the one to cut you off at the pass as you made your way to the top of the mountain? Was the Troll able?”

He scoffed openly.

“How about Lincoln Daniels, or even one of my toughest opponents, Austin James Mercer?”

This time, he shook his head and tapped a forefinger to his own chest.

“No. It’s me, JC. I’m the man. I’m the one. Because I am sick and tired of running in circles and not getting anywhere! I am sick of simply being overlooked despite everything that I’ve done and everything that I’ve gone through! I am going to keep going and beat every single man standing in front of me until they have no other choice but to put me in line for a World title run! And respect aside? I will go through you like the wind - you won’t see me coming and you won’t be able to do anything to stop me! Many have said it, but I own it; the White Wolf is a force of nature! Three men, JC. Just three…”

He held up three fingers.

“...Have been able to beat me in the past four years! Ben Jordan. Austin James Mercer. Jack Washington… well…”

He paused, giving the last name some contemplation.

“Considering Candy’s bitch ass husband interfered in that last one, does he even really count?”

He shrugged.

“Fuck it. I made my point. Three men. You are not going to be the fourth. And I am not bullshitting you because it can be so. I’m telling you this because it IS so! JC, big man? Little tip; When a wolf has the scent of prey, it doesn’t ease up until it has hunted that animal down and ran its ass over! Ripping into it and tearing it apart, limb from limb until there is literally nothing left of the original animal - or in this particular case - man. All it is going to boil down to is which of us is the more motivated, which of us is the more inspired of the two? And everything - literally everything about you, has inspired me to go above and beyond what I am normally capable of. And here's a little something for you to consider…”

Fenris beckons the cameraman to come closer with a wag of the forefinger, and indeed the camera does draw nearer. The light smirk that portrays Fenris’s usual amount of self assured confidence slips into nothingness as his ice blue eyes focus solely into the heart of the viewer.

“I am capable of a lot. No brag, just fact. Now you come into this match with a lot of momentum on your side. Defeating Austin James Mercer, the first man to ever beat me?”

A shake of the head…

“Not an easy thing to accomplish by any means, although to hear you tell the story, it was all but preordained. You would think the victory was yours from the very moment that the match contract was signed. Well then…! More power to you! I can respect a man with confidence. But here's the thing… I am not Austin James Mercer. I am unlike any man that you have faced before! Think you have any edge against me because of that win? You think I’ll be the next to feel your dominance?"

He shook his head.

"Look at who I was up against last time around at Inception V. Supreme Machine. One colossal monster of a man, and I put him down for the count! It took me more than I want to admit, but he was the one left laying on the mat, not me! So credit where it’s due, I’m going into our match with a fair amount of motivation to call my own. You said it was on me. And you are right, but you’ve motivated me more than you ever intended. All that boasting about not being pinned in a year?”

He shrugged.

“Big deal. I’ve knocked men out long enough to score the three count and send them to the ICU to be checked for a concussion. I could do it to you too, but here’s the thing; I don’t really want to. It was what you’ve been saying after that has my attention. You don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve tapped out? Since another man forced you to yield and submit?”

A smile slowly spread across Fenris’s lips and he started to nod.

“There we go. That’s it! That’s what I want to do. That is how I want this match to end. I’ll pin you if I have to, but making you tap out? Now that is the ultimate sweet, sweet goal!”

He then turned around and walked toward the open door of the gym’s cage-enclosed Octagon, but paused at the door, his fingers entwined with the mesh steel. He looked at nothing in particular as he mused.

“Do you ever know the origin of my name? The meaning? Fenris. The Great Wolf of the Norse. The beginning of the end. Ragnarok. The wolf that shatters his chains of binding and not only ends the All-Father Odin himself, but is the very catalyst of the Twilight of the Gods. And while I look to the Norse gods for guidance, I took the name of the Great Wolf because - unlike you, I am not a means to an end.”

“I am THE End.”

“You are going to have to forgive me for this change in my usual curriculum.”

The voice of Fenris cuts across as we find the aforementioned “White Wolf'' standing at the very base of Hvannadals Peak, the tallest mountain in the capital city of Iceland, standing at well over 6,952 feet. He stands atop a rocky outcropping in the base slope, eyes staring up into the Icelandic heavens, his chin resting atop the curled fingers of his left hand. As if in deep thought or contemplation.

“This is not usually how I do things.” He shook his head. “Like most others, I make certain to bring things to a close, with business overshadowing pleasure. I do not normally go in for these fanciful promos, preferring to get straight to business. But you know… when inspiration strikes, why fight against it?”

“When someone thinks of monsters, they think your typical Hollywood bullshit. Godzilla. Werewolves and vampires- before they sparkled more than your average drag queen. Frankenstein and his Bride… you know. The usual bullshit. But out in the world around us, in history there were beasts that inspired true fear. The fear that made even the bravest of men feel the stab of ice in their chest.

“In Greece, there was a time when the people dreaded the thought of the harpies spreading disease, manticores and the dreaded gaze of the Gorgons that would turn men to stone. In Scotland they have the Loch Ness. Canada has Ogopogo. Hell! Even North America has Champ, the Chupacabra and Bigfoot! But here’s a little something to chew on; we have our own “monsters” - right here in Iceland. Why do you think I’m here, in particular?”

He points straight up.

“See, even here in Iceland we have our own beasts of lore. Take the Huldufólk as an example. ‘The Hidden People’ we call them. You might think of them as elves that weren’t just mean or evil; they were fucking malevolent! I can remember when my brother and sisters were still kids, our grandfather would take us on hikes and anytime we were near this peak or the Katla volcano, he would give daft warnings not to throw rocks, warning us of the consequences of striking one of the Hidden Ones. So feared are the Huldufólk that road construction had to be diverted around an outcropping of rock in Kopavogur, citing warnings of damaging the home of the Huldufólk. Of course, the Icelandic Administration denied this being the reason. After all…”

He paused to stare into the camera.

“Who believes in monsters?”

Next, we would find Fenris standing in the vicinity of Lake Mývatn, standing in front of a rocky outcropping of lava that stretched as far across the horizon as the eye could see, and  was formed over 2,000 years ago.

“Dimmuborgir, or the Black Fortress. It was here that another monster of Iceland resided, calling it her home. Some thought Gryla as the ‘Queen of Icelandic Monsters.’ A fearless female troll that was mother of the Yule Lads, twelve evil versions of Santa Clause. It was said that Gryla would disguise herself as a beggar, and move from town to town, begging parents to surrender their disobedient children. A dark omen, and a useful tool for parents even to this day to corral a misbehaving child. When we were little, my own mother would use Gryla as a means to end the never-ending fighting between my sisters and I. Granted, it worked better on my sisters, as I did not believe in monsters. But…”

He thought for a moment and shrugged.

“Brave as I was, even I did not want to risk a kernel of truth and be handed over to the Mother of All.

Fenris was now walking alongside a country road in his hometown, away from the heart of the city and more to the countryside. Homesteads were few and far between. Trees were everywhere on the rocky land, and off in the distance was Lake Raudavatn. Hands tucked in his jacket pockets, he spoke as he walked.

“I love my country, but even it has its dark and grisly side in mythology.”

A neighing sound alerted him, and he glanced up at a horse in the distance, closer to the edge of Lake Raudavatn. His eyes locked onto the horse and watched it, speaking as he did so.

“One of the darker stories has something similar to Celtic mythology; the Kelpie. Here, we call it the Nykur. This – thing, will come to you as a weary traveler. Tempt you to ride its back to ease your travels. And once you do, you’ll find yourself unable to dismount. It will ride into the nearest body and water where it will drown you.”

At long last, Fenris now stood in the town square of his very own hometown of Reykjavik, amidst the scattered few number of tourists milling about while the locals went about their business. Before him stood one of the most important local monuments of Icelandic culture, and one of whom he shared only too recently with David Shepherd. He gazed up at the enormous sculpture, a genuine smile, a thing most rare where he was concerned, worn on his face.

“Now this – this has always been my favorite of Icelandic lore. I am not a cat person by any stretch of the imagination, but there is something absolutely primitive about the Yule Cat. Ironic, given this time of year, as the Yule Cat was a demonic feline, giant in stature, that would prowl all of Iceland around Yule, on the hunt for any child that was unlucky enough to not receive clothing as a gift for Christmas. Want a Playstation 5? Fine! Want the latest sports equipment? Your parents will do their best; but to those children of my country who receive gloves, socks and scarves as gifts? There were reasons to this day, and none stupid enough to complain.”

“Now… you are probably wondering where am I going with this? What is my point? When am I going to stop talking about this monster bullshit and get to the actual point of my match this coming weekend?”

He spun about quickly with arms held outward and a manic smile on his face.

“There, you see! That IS my point! Ever since he first set foot in SCW, SuMa has been treated with awe and fear! He has been described more as a monster than as a man! A beast among men, if anything! But now this is no Grimm Fairytale. This is no ridiculous bullshit story of a knight in shining armor off to rescue a princess from a dragon. This is real. This. Is. Life! And, I have news for every one of you out there, watching me.”

He took several steps forward, quickly on his feet until his face filled the camera.

“Monsters are not real. Men – they are real. And I am afraid of no man!”

---

Previously…

It seemed an eternity until he found his voice, having stared unendingly at the ornately carved marker that honored his first love, a young boy who had died tragically years before his time. A boy whose death Kristjan placed blame squarely on his own shoulders ever since. He shifted from where he sat before the marker, legs crossed, but it was for naught. Comfort was not to be had, be it physical or emotional.

Kristjan shook his head, his blue eyes on the memorial. “I've been coming here for ten years, and I never know what to say to you.” A soft chuckle escaped from him, and he felt the salty sting in his eyes that he struggled to control. He went on, “Why do I get the feeling that if our roles were reversed, you'd know just what to say?”

“This time….” He drew in a deep breath. He looked down briefly before he looked to the marker, and to his mind’s eye, to Jokull himself. “I brought someone with me. I think you would have liked him.” He drew in a deep breath that shuddered only slightly, betraying the emotion that has, as of yet, been unable to betray him and break from the self-imposed barriers. He let the breath out and looked ahead, finally admitting, “Because I do, Jokull. I like him - a lot. The fact that he wanted to come here, now? To be here for me? I know I talk big and tell people I don’t need anyone to be there for me, and I have to handle this alone. But he actually wanted to come with me – it meant a lot. And spoke volumes about him. Your mom met him. She liked him, I think. I think a part of him wanted to come up here with me, but he’s back there.”

He jetted a thumb back toward David subconsciously, an action David caught from the corner of his eye as he waited.

“But he wanted me to have this time with you, alone.” He nodded solemnly. “He’s a good man.”

Kristjan seemed lost, unsure of how to proceed. He found himself looking everywhere suddenly but at the grave marker, as if he had a sense of guilt behind his admission. But he had to say it, he had to get past this one hurdle.

He said, “His name is David, but I imagine you already knew this. I’ve always felt like you were keeping an eye on me from ‘up there.’” He chuckled. “It’s funny. When we were kids, I would have gone to the ends of the earth to watch over and protect you, but now that you’re gone? I know – I know – that you’re doing the same thing for me. For all I know… you sent David to me so that I could be happy.” He gave the marker a side-eye and a bit of a rueful smile. “I could have done without that Ty West test run.”

“I just – I have felt guilty every time I think I met someone. Every. Time. But, your mom is right. I can’t begin to think you’d have wanted me to be alone and bitter. I’m bitter enough even when I’m with someone.”

It amazed him the level of patience that David gave him.

“Your mom and I had a long talk last night. She told me that I don’t have to make this trip every year, but I do. And I think she appreciates it. I know she does. But I’m not just doing this for me, or for me.”

He finally could not hold it back any longer, and the first of many tears slid from his eyes and down his cheeks, pooling at the defined cleft in his chin.

“I’m doing it for you. Whether I am with someone or not, I don’t want you to ever think I could replace you. I love you, Jokull. I always have, and I always will.”

Finally, Kristjan closed his eyes and recited from memory a prayer he instilled in both body and soul.

“O son of ever-watchful Odin, Balder, best of gods,
I call to you with an open heart, I pray to you
with open eyes. Son of fair Frigga who sought your safekeeping,
who gathered up pledges like flowers in spring,
who begged for salt tears throughout the worlds,
a mother’s love wielded with skill, yet in vain.
Balder, most beautiful, bright-shining god,
there are no words to tell of your glory,
there is no being who burns with your fire. Yours is a tale
of many turns, of what must be and of what must end,
of well-plotted plans and of ill become good.
O Balder who dwells among the dead, holder
of your father’s secrets, hidden hope of all that is,
I honor your story, I honor your might, I honor the worlds
in which you walk. Hail to good Balder, great god of the light!”

Seems strange? Perhaps for any save for those closest to him. Kristjan was what was known as “Asatro,” one of those in the Icelandic culture that practiced the worship of the Norse gods; Baldur. Somehow it seemed terribly appropriate that his patron be the ‘Fallen God,’ given the circumstances surrounding his life.

He reached forward to the bundle of flowers and set them up right against the headstone before finally  pushing himself up to a standing position. Seeing this, David stood up right from against the tree he had been standing against. Kristjan closed his eyes and rested his fingers on the marble stone and whispered, “Blessaður sé.” (“Blessed be.”) He then quickly wiped his eyes with the arm of his sleeve and turned to walk back to David who stood upright to meet him.

Neither man said a word. They didn’t have to. David simply and silently slid his arm around his man’s waist and they walked toward the rental…

---

The very same rental Kristjan watched drive away in a hasty retreat. Stunned. Shocked. Confused. Three words that best describe the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm Kristjan as he watched the car’s lights vanish in the distance. He gave pause and looked around and then down, at the luggage that had fallen over at his feet as David had made his getaway from the very forefront of his family home.

Without thought, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. A flick of his thumb, he pressed the speed dial and held it to his ear. The ring tone went on … and on … but nobody picked up. It didn’t even go to voicemail. He then changed tactics and went to his list of contacts, and dialed a specific one deliberately. After a few rings, the line was picked up and…

“This had better be good!” Came the voice of David’s sister, Esther. A young woman who had fast reminded Kristjan of his two older sisters.

Kristjan drew in a deep breath, and answered, “When you see your brother, tell him he’s a fucking asshole!”

“Kristjan?”

“Who else!?”

“Oh for… did you two fight - again!?” She asked with no small trace of sarcasm. “What happened? You not make it to the point of angry man sex-”

“He fucking just ditched me, Esther!”

“... What are you talking about?”

“We just arrived at my family’s house and no sooner did I get my luggage out of the car than he jumped in and took off!”

“Relax.” She said. “Maybe he just went back to the hotel…”

“And turned off his phone? And voice mail???”

“Okay, I stand corrected. But just take it easy. He probably just got a little spooked. Meeting your family was probably moving too fast for his…”

“Too FAST!?” Kristjan bellowed into the phone. “Esther, I just stopped him from buying us a matching set of rings!”

“... Beg pardon?”

“Never mind!” Kristjan shook his head, wanting to just crawl into a hole and hide. “Just… do me a favor. Tell your brother. I’ve had men make me angry, make me hurt… David is the first one to ever humiliate me.”

“Kristjan…” But before Esther could say anything further, Kristjan ended the call with a click and he THREW the phone as hard as he could against a frozen tree in the yard of his family home, shattering it!

“Kristjan?” The voice caused him to turn around, and his father, Benedikt, had stepped out the front door and was approaching him - having seen his outburst and loss of temper. True, as his dad he had been privy to many times over the years at a loss of temper, but this was different.

Benedikt walked up to his son’s side and Kristjan deftly turned his head away, so that his pained, blue eyes could stare off into the direction David had left. Benedikt looked off into the same direction, before looking to his son.

He asked, “Where’s David?”

Kristjan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Gone.”

This cryptic answer caused Benedikt to frown and he was about to question him further, but Kristjan opened his eyes and focused them directly on the man who had been his hero for near thirty years.

“He’s gone … Dad.”

Benedikt looked into his son’s eyes, and understood. Then, nothing further need be said. He simply leaned down to help Kristjan gather his luggage before they went back inside….

---

Las Vegas, Nevada -
December 24

Time jumps. Funny little things. Tricky, but overall more useful than one might realize in the telling of a tale. Because while we could have spent an endless amount of time regaling you with little anecdotes of what went down between Fenris and the members of his family as they ventured from their native Iceland to America so that they might all spend the holidays together, there was little time to waste so let’s instead skip ahead in our look back to Yule of 2021, and get to the heart of the matter, shall we?

The Baltasarsson brothers’ condo looked much the same as last time we visited this masterpiece of a winter wonderland, courtesy of Danielle Weston, the brothers’ adopted little sister. If anything, it looked even more elaborate than previously seen, as if Aron and Danielle took advantage of Kristjan’s absence to put up even more elaborate decor to welcome both friends and family in what has fast become something of a tradition for this family. The brothers knew full well that their mother would do as she always did, and invite all of their friends to a dinner party where her culinary talents might reign supreme, but this time they beat her to the proverbial punch. Kristjan had already invited everyone, and while he was away, Aron had secured the services of a local caterer much in demand so that their mom would not have to lift a finger. It was her holiday to enjoy too.

And the guest list was extensive,  everyone was there that one might imagine; from the Stevens family to fellow trainees of the GO Gym. From London Underground to Bobbie Dahl and Artie. . .

Kristjan realized he should be more grateful for everything that Baldur had blessed him with, had blessed his family with, but still he found it rather difficult. While it was true that he was currently surrounded by both friends and family, he still felt that there was something missing. And that something - or someone, rather, was … well, you know exactly who is being referred to.

“Here.” Eva said as Kristjan was about to take a seat next to Bobbie and Artie on the prominent, white plush sofa at the forefront of the condo’s main living area, holding out a platter of hors d'oeuvres that the guests had picked clean. “Take this into the kitchen so we can keep things clean.”

Taking his seat, Kristjan raised his brow to his mother and professed, “But it’s my party.”

“And you’re my son.” Eva said, brooking no argument from her middle child and oldest son, shoving the platter into his hands without argument. “Now move.” She said. Kristjan exchanged a look with Bobbie and Artie, Bobbie wearing a wry grin on her face as he stood up and was about to do as he was told/commanded, when the doorbell rang. Or at least, what he used to be his doorbell. It had been deftly replaced from the typical chimes to the tell-tale sounds of Santa’s jolly laugh.

Slowly Kristjan turned to look across the condo to Danielle whose eyes widened under his stare and she somehow made fading into the crowd of guests seem flawless. Kristjan turned to set the tray down so that he might answer his door, but Eva held up a hand, forestalling him. She pointed toward the kitchen with a commanding tone, saying, “Go. I’ll answer that.”

Without waiting to see if her boy would listen, as she knew he would, Eva walked across the floor of the condo’s living area aka “party central,” and toward the front door. Grasping the door handle, she opened the door with a pleasant, expectant expression on her face, but for whom she saw standing there, that expression changed first to a wariness, and then to that of a mother bear. Her brow furrowed and lips pressed thin as she stared straight at the man who had only recently hurt her son, David Shepherd - and his sister Esther.

Perhaps had he been the sort to pay more attention to his surroundings, Kristjan might have noticed that much of the chatter at the party had slowly subsided. Oh people were still talking in conversation, enjoying the festivities and one another's company, but there was a sudden tenseness that had suddenly filled the air and it could not be ignored. But Kristjan seemed to lose himself when he was in his own home, comfortably surrounded by loved ones, that he did not notice. He took advantage of being in the small kitchen to open the fridge and retrieve for himself another beer (much to Eva’s distaste). He turned around, twisting the cap off and was about to take a long and satisfying pull from the bottle, when he stopped. Eva was standing at the front of the kitchen, wringing her hands in worry and her face was set in stone.

“Someone’s here to see you.” She said in a crisp tone, to which Kristjan replied, “Willow?” Referring to his close friend whom he had also invited but knew the chances were slim as she did live in Seattle where her family resided.

Eva shook her head and said quietly, “Not Willow.” And the movement from the corner of his eye, behind his mother and stepping into view - David. Kristjan’s attempt to take a drink stopped just as suddenly, the bottle of Kaldi Blonde frozen at his lips. He slowly lowered the bottle as David stepped into the kitchen, Eva’s eyes remaining glued straight on him.

“Mom…?” Kristjan finally broke the uncomfortable silence with a hidden intent. Eva turned her head to share a look with her son, and then looked once more at David and she said in a hushed whisper, “Meiddu son minn aftur og ég mun hafa eyrnalokkana þína.” Before she finally took her leave to rejoin the party.

David watched her go for a brief moment, before he turned back to Kristjan who was just watching him without saying a word. His backside leaning against the counter, and arms folded over his sternum with the bottle of Icelandic beer still held up.

“What did she say?” David shook his head as he understood not a single word of Icelandic.

“Pretty much she said if you hurt me again, she’d have your balls for earrings.” Was the simple reply. David’s eyes widened for only a fraction of a second, turning back to look where Eva had left the kitchen before returning his attention to where it most deserved to be. Now Kristjan’s attention was sharp, and she saw the reflexive swallow of David and he shook his head.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve just showing up like this after that stunt you pulled!” He said in a monotone voice that hid not just the anger he felt inside, but the hurt as well. Try as he might to deny it, Kristjan was human, and even he could be hurt by someone he cared about. He said, “Ignore calls. Texts. But here you are. Showing up to celebrate Yule like nothing happened.”

He scoffed and took a pull from the bottle in hand, muttering, “You have balls.”

And at that, David had the most difficult time looking at the man who only days ago, he could not tear his eyes off of. For someone who laid claim to being an ‘asshole supreme’ and not caring what anyone thought of him, in this moment, with this man standing across from him, it simply was not true. His hands found themselves deep in his pockets and he asked quietly, “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

To which Kristjan shrugged and answered simply, “Do you see anyone else with us? Talk.” But the helpless, hangdog expression on David’s face and that poorly hidden pain in his eyes gave Kristjan cause to exhale sharply and he set the bottle on the counter and he walked past David, grabbing him by the arm and ushering him from the kitchen. The two stepped out into the living room and ignored the attention that their emergence had received. Friends and family had a habit of not hiding their protective curiosity very well. They stepped just off of the foyer and entered Kristjan’s bedroom, but not before David cast a look over his shoulder and locked eyes with Eva once again from across the condo. She gave him the universal sign for ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ just before the bedroom door was shut behind him.

David turned around as Kristjan walked across his master bedroom, around the bed and he had a seat on the white, cushioned chair in the corner near his desk. “This should be good.” He said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Say what you have to say.”

(See, this is where you should read “Brother” David Shepherd's roleplay)

---

The Reno Events Center had long been set up in preparation for the SCW Supercard event, the first of 2022; Inception V. Soon enough, the Superstars and Bombshells would kick the new year off in pure masochistic sadism; spilling one another's blood and leaving each other laying, beaten, battered and broken. As SCW crews busied themselves in the otherwise empty arena, performing sound checks and checking the stage lights for any undue mistakes, one man in particular took this time for a brief bit of solitude. So that he might focus himself on what was to come in just over 48 hours. When he, a mortal man, would face off against what could best be described as a man-made monster.

Fenris sat clear at the top of the bleachers, keeping himself as far away from the hustle and bustle of activity below by the entirety of the SCW and Reno Events Center staff and crew.

“Do you know what the difference is between us, SuMa? It's not size. It's not by reputation or fear factor, although there is plenty of both to go around on both sides. It's motivation. What exactly are you doing this for, big man? What is your drive going into this match? To try and maintain your carefully crafted monster image? See, that's the funny thing about creating an image for yourself; in the end, it's just an image. There's no substance behind it. Are you hoping to maintain your standing? Well sorry to break this bit of bad news but you have no standing! Not here, not in SCW! So far since you arrived, you've been little more than the Saviors’ attack bitch - dog! I meant dog. Since you showed up, it's been the same goddam act! Attack random people! Growl and gnash teeth! Okay you did try to add a bit of variety when you scared the piss out of Bea Barnhart, but really in the end, all that did  was make you look every bit the girly bitch that I've been saying you are. And all of this? You do it because you can. Because in your own deranged head, it makes you more than you are! You want to walk out of this fight - and it WILL be a fight - being able to tell the world you were one of less than a handful of men who hold a win over me! But you are bullshitting yourself. You laid me out twice, I will give you that. You put me on medical leave, I’ll give you that. But did you stop me? Did you end me?”

He leaned back and shook his head, his eyes emblazoned with feral madness but the corner of his lips turned upward in a trademark smirk that speaks volumes toward his true mindset. Those closest to him, friends and opponents alike, would say this would be the time for concern.

“There is nothing that you can pull out of your relatively small bag of tricks that will keep me down. You could put me down a hundred times over and I will keep getting back up, each and every time! That is what a fighter is, that is what I am! But thinking you’re getting the best of me, you did nothing more than misuse your motivation to hand me my own on a golden platter! That’s right, SuMa. YOU’VE inspired me! You’ve brought the White Wolf out of his den and now he is on the hunt! But you put your hands on my brother, and for that, I’ll put you down once - and that’s it. Because unlike you, I don’t need more than once to put you down and leave you laying, bloody and broken!”

“You’re big, SuMa. I’ll grant you that. A so-called monster. But that’s about the best thing that I can say about you. After all, what does it really say about you when I have half your size, when I haven’t committed half the atrocities that you have, and yet I still have more grown men pissing themselves at the thought of stepping inside of the ring against me!? Now THAT is a reputation to be proud of! THAT is a reputation earned! You can attack every man on this roster a hundred times over and you STILL won’t inspire the same level of fear and anxiety that I have – And I’ve only been competing for nearly four years! You – !”

He jabbed a finger right into the camera.

“Supreme Machine, are all show! Just massive size and strength and nothing else! I’ve been in the world of MMA for years, and here in SCW since 2018 and I’ve earned everything on nothing but my own hard earned skill! I don’t need to play fucking mind games or jump someone from behind to get my point across or prove that I’m the best! I already know I am because I’ve been there! Fastest rising Superstar in SCW history!”

He pointed a thumb toward himself, then turned his hand around and held up four fingers.

“Four months, SuMa. That is all the time it took for me from my debut to Summer XXXTreme VI to win the World Heavyweight Championship! And I stayed unbeaten for almost a full fucking year!  I'm sure as shit not about to be laid waste to by some half-assed cliche! Because that’s all you are; a carefully crafted image to make any man think you’re the boogeyman of professional wrestling! But funny thing about an image; it’s all for show. It has no value, no substance.”

He cast a look over his shoulder and toward the camera directly.

“And neither do you. You want me at my best? You hope to have stoked my fire? Well bitch, ask and you shall receive because the fire inside of my soul has been stoked to the point of a raging inferno and you are going to BURN! And this time? This time it is just you and me. No Saviors. No members of GO Gym. No Wolfslair. Just the giant, and a giant slayer.”

Fenris then jumped to his feet and started down the steps of the stands, but paused and looked down briefly, allowing a brief time for his eyes to rise again. To look down toward the six-sided ring where he would soon stand.

“When you had me at my worst, I had men come to my aid, and more importantly, to the aid of my brother. Men whom I am on good terms with, and men whom I have spilled blood against. That … is what I am about, SuMa. That I have enough respect for men the likes of Mercer, Senor Vinnie, Alex Jones and the Bulldog, that they would be there for me, even if they don’t like me. They respect me, and hate you. Your brotherhood in the Saviors? They won’t do shit when I put you out of your misery, because by then you would have shown your true worth, or lack thereof. Because what value does the Saviors’ monster have to the Saviors themselves, when he can’t even put down a 'many mutt'?”

He went about his way, descending the steps as the camera pulled to a close up of the ring before it faded to black.

Try to imagine, if you will, the ultimate of winter wonderlands. A place where every direction that the eye might roam, you find just a touch of holiday cheer. A place where the very center of this floor is dominated by a seven foot tall Christmas tree, natural of course, not one of those fake plastic ones, and decorated in an array of colorful garland, blinking lights, tinsel, bulbs of varied colors as well as ‘old fashioned’ decor such as popcorn and berries strung together and draped around from the base to the very top along with candy canes hanging from the branches. Where every window in every room was framed in green and red garland with matching velvet bows. Silver garland with gold bells lined the corner of every surface from tables to counters. Winter knick knacks were strategically placed about the vicinity, everything from snowmen to elves and reindeer, and yes - the traditional Elf On A Shelf was somewhere around here! There were also countless more tabletop trees on mantles and table surfaces, small miniature versions of the main one that towered above the rest.

An actual toy train track was stretched completely around the entirety of the floor with a virtual town setting from the local WalMart Christmas department; the train weaving around and between small Winter pine trees, and an entire collection of the Holiday Time Village. To top even that, on the central table on full display was a holiday themed display of Hogwarts castle of Harry Potter fame. And around it, fancy place settings befitting this most loved of holidays.

No, you’re not looking at the center court of the Fashion Show Mall here in Las Vegas. No, you’re actually looking at the condo inside of Turnberry Towers where Fenris and Aron Baltasarsson call home. No, seriously! When Fenris was ‘laid up’ after two back to back attacks from the Supreme Machine of the Saviors, Aron and their ‘little sister’ Danielle Weston took full advantage of Kristjan being unable to intervene; well, Danielle did. Aron spent most of the time she decorated by preventing his volatile older brother aka the Grinch from doing or saying anything to ruin her fun.

There were Christmas cards everywhere the eye could see. And as the condo was almost entirely in white, Kristjan's own personal preference, Danielle saw fit to match his favored color with red accents everywhere the eye could see.

To quote the Grumpiest Man In Iceland himself? “It looks like someone shit Santa's workshop in here!”

“K?” Aron called aloud to gain his brother's attention as he slid  open the walk-in closet just off the condo's foyer and removed his wool-lined aviator jacket. “When is David getting here?”

In the small kitchen, Fenris was busy at work, taking care of his baby girl, Kyssa. Pampering, one might say. Reaching into the refrigerator, he removed a gallon of purified water that bore the name of the canine. Okay, providing his pet not only bottled water but purified water at that? Maybe ‘spoiled’ is a more apt description of their master and pet relationship.

Fenris answered, “Any moment, why?” He poured the water  into Kyssa’s,please water dish, allowing her to proceed lapping it up at his bare feet. He then stood upright and frowned at Aron’s approach, with Kyssa’s leash  in hand. “Where the hell are you going?”

“Where's it look?” Aron answered back. “I'm taking Kyssa for her usual walk so Daddy can have his conjugal visit.”

“Oh for fucks sake!” Kristjan grumbled as he practically threw the water back into the refrigerator and made for his personal mini bar just off of the hall entrance. “I told you before! He's just coming over to talk!”

Aron murmurs,  “Yes and we all know where your ‘talks’ lead…”

“SON OF A BITCH!!!” Prompting Aron to start and turn to see what had set his volatile sibling off THIS time. Kyssa? She just kept drinking away! Aron approached and saw Kristjan with his mini bar cabinet wide open and staring aghast at the refrigerated contents inside.

“What?” Aron asked. “What's wrong!?”

Fenris turned around to him, but he's left arm was outstretched toward the bar for emphasis. He hollered, “Look what Dani did to my bar! Where the hell is everything!?”

Aron leaned over to the side at the waist so as to see past Kristjan and into the bar, and had to choke back a laugh at his brother's expense and risk igniting that famed temper of his. Dani indeed had done to the mini fridge what she had done to the rest of their home; give it a touch of holiday flare. Gone were his favored hard liquors INCLUDING his Icelandic brand beer, and in their place was a more holiday variety of beverages such as eggnog, Peppermint Bark rum, mulled wine, gingerbread Irish creme, Apple brandy and a few others.

Aron just looked at his brother with a raised brow and Kristjan just turned away from him with an audible huff and he started rummaging through the bar's contents, Aron asking “A little early for that, isn't it?”

Kristjan cast a hard glance back over his shoulder and replied, “Have you met me?”

But there was a reason why Aron had asked, just as he knew there was a reason why his brother was looking for a stiff drink perhaps earlier than the norm. While it was true Fenris had turned drinking into an art form, he rarely started this early in the day unless he had reason; and Aron had a suspicion that his brother’s reason was on his way over.

“Are you that concerned about this talk?” Aron asked, to which Kristjan stood upright and turned around with a bottle of brandy and a glass. About the strongest thing Dani had left for him. Kristjan replied, “What talk? I’m just telling him I’m going to Iceland.”

“K…” Aron sighed as he took the risk and gently slipped both glass and bottle from his brother’s hands and set them aside. “If you were just telling him that, you’d be a lot more at ease.” The two stared at one another for what seemed an eternity but was, in reality, perhaps a few seconds at most. Aron’s eyes never once left Kristjan’s as he asked, “You’re telling him why, aren’t you? You’re going to tell him about Jökull.”

Kristjan simply braced himself, and his posture stiffened. The tragic subject of the deceased Jökull was a source of great emotional pain for him, so much so that he practically shut out the subject, having only openly discussed him with one person; Ben Jordan. Aron then drew him from his pained memories, saying, “I know I made a mistake when I told Ty about Jökull. It wasn’t fair to you to tell him your secret. But if I have to be honest…? I don’t regret doing it, even if it did drive a wedge between us for a time.”

This drew a hard stare from Kristjan, but Aron smiled, continuing with his line of thought, “Because what came of it made you happy, for a time. At least until we all found out what a two-faced bitch Ty really was.Ty always acted like he was competing for your friends, and worse? Like he was competing with Jökull’s memory. But in coming to know him these past couple of months, there is one thing that I’m fairly certain on.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Aaron shook his head, “David isn’t Ty West.”

Speak of the devil - pun intended, David Shepherd himself had been standing out in the hall of Kristjan and Aron’s floor for a fair few minutes. But he wasn’t trying to listen in on whatever rumblings he might have overheard behind closed doors. He was much more perplexed at what he was seeing before him; so much so that even though he knew he was in the right place, he was still left wondering whether or not he was.

The door frame was lined completely from the base of one side up, across the top and to the bottom of the opposite side with silver and gold garland. There was a traditional wreath on the door, and at his feet, a Grinch doormat featuring an optical illusion that had him wondering whether or not he was in need of glasses. He finally ‘shook it off’ and raised a hand to knock - when the door swung open and Aron blinked in surprise before the younger of the brothers laughed openly.

“Well don’t just stand there…” Aron smiled, stepping around David and into the hallway, as David made a move inside through the door but looked back out to Aron. “I was wondering if I was in the right place! Those decorations threw me.” He then turned around and saw everything laid out before him ala Danielle and gaped openly. “But not as much as this! Holy shit, it looks like someone shit Santa’s workshop in here!”

Fenris smirked very brazenly as Aron simply shook his head in mock disbelief. He quipped, “You two really are meant for one another!” Before he left, shutting the door behind him.

David turned about to face Fenris, but before he could address his man, he heard the patter of paws on the floor and David immediately walked across the foyer to where Kyssa had just emerged from the kitchen. She plopped down on her haunches as David lowered himself to one knee and he started to give her some much deserved attention, running his hands through her silken, snow-white fur and scratching her in her favored spots.

“That’s my girl.” He found himself saying, despite the need or desire to keep up his public asshole number one image. Kyssa, of course, repaid his words and affection in kind with a few sloppy doggy kisses, before she fell over and rolled onto her back; an open invitation for belly rubs if there ever was one. And as David obliged, he cast a look back over his shoulder to Kristjan who was watching the scene with no small amount of amusement.

David asked, “So what was so important that it couldn't have waited until dinner tomorrow night?”

“I wasn’t aware we were going out to dinner tomorrow night.”

“I haven’t told you yet.” David replied before he finally finished giving Kyssa her belly rubs, then he stood up to Kristjan and just nodded, “So what’s going on?”

“Sit down.” Kristjan directed him, nodding toward the living room with the expansive sectional sofa crafted of plush felt. David did as he was asked, but still felt bold enough to quip, “Oh that doesn’t sound good.” With Kristjan (and Kyssa) following. Once David had a seat, Kristjan took a seat beside him and Kyssa crawled up onto the sofa between the two so that she might be pampered a bit between the both of them. David did indeed continue running him hands down along her back and neck, but his eyes were imploring as he waited for Kristjan’s explanation.

“I’m going to Iceland in three days.” Kristjan’s statement came from out of nowhere, catching David by surprise. Even though he had been confident that he and Fenris were on solid ground between them, there was still a sense of relief. Almost as if he had been waiting for the proverbial ‘other shoe’ to drop. But…this?

“You’re going to Iceland.” David said as more of a statement than a question, perhaps making certain that he had heard correctly. And as Kristjan nodded in the affirmative, he knew that he had. David glanced about in casual confusion as he asked, “Okay, why? I mean, I know your family was coming here for the holidays, but do you really need to fly all that way just to escort them?...”

“No.” Kristjan shook his head, stopping for the moment any further third degree. “No, I will be accompanying them here on the flight back, but this… it’s something that I do every year. It’s something I have to do.” Kristjan’s cool, blue eyes met David’s. “It’s personal.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to tell me?” David asked. “Or that it’s none of my business?”

“No.” Was his answer. “It’s my way of stalling so I can grow a fucking set and tell you what you deserve to know!”

Hearing this, David leaned back against the sofa, and Kyssa stretched out, her upper half resting luxuriously across David’s lap. Now his interest as well as curiosity was peaked, but if it was something that had Fenris hesitant, he knew that it was something serious.So, he was prepared to give him all the time that he needed. And it did take some time. David was no fool; he could see an internal struggle taking place somewhere deep inside of Kristjan before the proverbial floodgate slowly opened.

Kristjan reached forward and picked up his cell phone from where it had been lying on the coffee table. He sat forward, his eyes glued to the screen in his hands as he searched for something, and upon finding it, his eyes simply - stared. And even from his vantage point, David could see there was something hurting behind those eyes. Before he could ask, before he could even sneak a glance at what Kristjan was looking at, he found the phone in his hands. David glanced down at the same image that had caused such a reaction in a man that he, up until now, had believed almost incapable of human emotion. Or at the very least, that level of pain.

On the screen was a simple photograph, a screen saver perhaps. The photograph was of two young men in school uniforms; one was easily recognizable, being the man that was seated beside him now. Younger, slimmer in build albeit still athletic and his hair considerably shorter. But those lips were a dead giveaway. But what caught David's attention the most was the extremely bright smile that was on his face. A smile he can't quite recall ever seeing on his face before. A smile that was pure and innocent, and … loving? The other boy, the one his Kristjan had his arm draped affectionately around the shoulder of, was a cute kid by David's own personal admission. Clearly of Asian descent, but being his schoolmate, he suspected that there were Icelandic ties to the boy as well.

"Who…?" David started to ask, but before he could finish getting the sentence out, Fenris answered, "Jokull." His voice was strained. David could hear the pain, sense it. "His name is Jokull. I met him in high school. I don’t know why, but we just bonded. Total misfit. Kids called him a half breed because he was part Icelandic, part Japanese. But me? He was my best friend. I…” He shook his head, clearly struggling, but David knew. He could easily read Kristjan enough to know where this story had been.

“You loved him.” David finally finished for him, and slowly – Kristjan yielded with a nod.

“I really did. And he, me. I can not describe how I felt when we were together.” He whispered gently. “He was there for me when I needed someone the most, and I’d like to think I did the same for him until…”

“Until…?” David gently pressed,and he was not prepared for when Fenris answered, “Until I got that sweet kid killed.”

And there it was, the deep pain that was perhaps the very source of Kristjan’s anger and pain that seemed to haunt him perpetually, endlessly. ‘Got him killed…’ The words still did not register. He had to have heard wrong. He shook his head and was about to ask for clarification, but Kristjan’s eyes opened and he was staring off into space with a blank look that, if David was going to be honest, frightened him. Kristjan closed his eyes again, and David felt a stabbing pain somewhere inside of his deepest sense of self when he saw the lone tear slide from Kristjan’s eye and down his cheek.

Kristjan said in a voice that was hoarse, “It was winter. The storm was bad. Winds. Ice on the roads. Snow was blowing so hard it was hard to see.” He shook his head. “It didn’t stop me from asking him to come over and stay the night. I shouldn’t have… I was so fucking STUPID…!”

“Kristjan…” David started to offer, laying a hand gently on his arm. But Kristjan kept going. Once the floodgate had been opened, he had to. “His mom didn’t want to, but she finally drove him over… an oncoming car lost control and hit them on his side, knocked them into a pole on his side… Th-they couldn’t save him!”

Kristjan turned his head to David and his eyes were no longer that lovely blue that David found beautiful, but red-rimmed and racked with an agonizing pain. “Sixteen… I loved him, and he died. Because of…”

“No.” David tried to assure him. “Not because of…” But Kristjan turned his head away from this man who had so recently captured both his attention as well as his affection. It was then that it became clear. David asked, “That’s why you’re going to Iceland.”

“Every year.” Fenris nodded. “On the anniversary of his death. I visit his mom, and his grave.”

David nodded, taking that in, and in doing so, stretched out the arm he was not using to pet Kyssa, and instead draped it around his man’s shoulder. This was not what he had expected. This hard truth had come from out of nowhere. The question remained…

What would he do with it?

---

It had been a long and difficult night for the tandem of Fenris and David Shepherd where truths had finally come out between them. Truths that needed to be shared, confided in, so that walls that existed between them involving their respective pasts that haunted them to this day could be torn down, and new paths be laid out between them.

Fenris now stood on his condo’s patio at night, his arms folded around him as he looked off into the night of the Las Vegas skyline. There was almost something hypnotically comforting about the lights that could be seen from this distance of the famed Vegas Strip.

“Ever since I first set foot in SCW in 2018, I’ve developed something of a reputation for being not just a hard worker inside of their six-sided ring, but an even harder fighter. People knew where I had trained, where I had come from, and it was something that they hadn’t seen before in this promotion. They saw me as something unique, but more importantly, they saw me as someone dangerous. Someone to be feared. And I would be lying if I went and told you that this was a feeling that I didn’t get a bit of a thrill from having. Week after week, they watched me be placed in the ring with the best that SCW had to offer, and at the time, there wasn’t a soul that could touch me. I mean, I must have been doing something right because Courtney Pierce and I ran through the Blast From the Past event to become the latest champions, and I set a record on winning the World Heavyweight Championship for a rookie in just four months. A championship I defended against the BEST for over eight months before finally losing it, and an undefeated streak that stretched almost a year, all at the same time.”

“And most of the time when a streak like that ends, the mystique behind it ends as well.”

He shook his head.

“Not so much where I was concerned. I wouldn’t allow it to happen. I knew it could, the people behind me knew that if I let that first loss get to me, it would be the end. So I worked harder, and if people thought I was dangerous before, it was nothing compared to what they had laid out before them now. I did not make a habit out of demanding title shots or attempting to become a two-time champion. Between 2018 and now? I had three title shots.”

He held up three fingers on his right hand.

“Just three. Why? Well two involved Ben Jordan, and that reasoning was simple enough; he and I knew damn well we’d give everyone out there a match that they’d never forget! But why did I not go the same route as certain other ‘divas’ and bastards that think the wrestling world revolves around them? Because I already know that I’m the best. If I decide to go after the World title, it’s on my terms. Otherwise, I ask for little. What I was not expecting was to have someone relatively new to SCW actually seek me out and want a match against me. When I heard that my name was on the ‘bucket list’ for Levi Russow, I thought for sure that there had to be some sort of mistake. Outside of Ben Jordan and Caleb Storms, I can’t recall anyone actually going out of their way to get a match against me! Until now. Until you, Levi.”

“To this day, I sit back and wonder what exactly was going through your mind when you put my name on that list and asked the powers that be for a match against me. Oh a few things ran through my mind. Maybe you weren't overly familiar with my work in the ring and saw me as some young rookie compared to your experience that you could use to your advantage in your grand return. Make a name for yourself at my expense, perhaps?”

“Then again, maybe you had seen my work. Maybe you had seen matches I had against the likes of Ben, Alex Jones, Senor Vinnie and Casey Williams, and rather than think me a pushover, you more think me a legit challenge that you wanted to test yourself against. Win or lose, you’d give me the very best that you’re capable of, and I the same. And after all, what better way to prove you still have everything in you than by facing legit threats rather than matches even blind men in Norway could see you winning. This is what I preferred to think of the situation between us, or maybe I’m just flattering myself. Having someone actually want to test themselves against me, it made me feel – good? When you were first signed to SCW and the hype was fresh in everyone’s minds, I looked you up. And I liked what I saw.”

“You’re not a quitter. Never say die attitude. Levi, you are a man that I could easily grow to respect. So imagine my disappointment to learn that a reason for you wanting to face me inside of the ring – was because of Candy.”

He cast a look to the stars and shook his head.

“Fuck’s sake! Unbelievable! I had hoped all of that bullshit was behind me after her husband got in my face and I made him tap out! I can respect him wanting to defend his wife. I can even respect you for wanting to defend a friend, but I am NOT the goddamn bad guy here! Did I make Candy cry? YES! Did I intend to? NO! And she wouldn’t have if she hadn’t been standing there in the backstage hallway, listening in on a private conversation I was having with my brother! Was I pissed at her? YES! Because after waiting so long to get a new opponent, a match that I was looking forward to, she went and fucked it up by changing it from a regular match to putting us in pudding that would make someone think they were on an acid trip! I am NOT a fucking sideshow freak, Levi! I don’t go flop around in pudding or mud or whatever! This is professional wrestling! Do you get it now? Do you understand in even the slightest way why I was so pissed off? Yes? No?”

He shrugged.

“Then you take your little digs, taking on the schoolyard role by asking Candy on social media if I was the guy who made her cry. WITHOUT tagging me, I might add! Then making your little comments about wanting to punch me – well Levi. You don’t have to wait any longer. You got your match. You got your wish. I have nothing against you, but I sure as shit am not going to just sit back out of respect and let you just do whatever the hell you want without fighting back! I did not get where I am today in MMA or wrestling by letting anyone walk all over me! I fight, and I keep fighting until one of us can’t continue – usually my opponent! Which in this case, just so happens to be you. And as upset as I am, as annoyed as I am, the respect is still there.”

“And unfortunately, so is the sense of pity when I look on social media and see perfect strangers giving you more respect and support than your own son. Jack is acting like your comeback is unwanted, unneeded. He acts embarrassed that you still want to be a part of this sport and is practically saying you can't do it. Well I think you can! You wouldn’t have been signed to SCW if Mark and Christian didn’t think you can! So FUCK what anyone else has to say about your comeback, Russow! Nobody has the right to talk down about what makes YOU happy! Nobody has the right to take away from you what you want to do! Not your son! Not your wife! Nobody! And using your grandchildren as leverage? Jesus, that was low! You are far from being the oldest active wrestler in this sport! Your time is far from over! You’ll go, and you’ll keep on going! You’re hurt, like me, and you fight on, just like me!”

“And come Sunday, you get to cross another name off of your list, and I get a match against someone that has earned my respect without ever having stepped inside of the ring against me! Not since Alex Jones or Ben Jordan, have I ever been looking forward to a match THIS much! But once the dust settles, once you’re alert enough to open your eyes and stare up into those lights? Just remember one thing Levi – respect aside? I didn’t ask for this match. You did. So what is about to happen?”

“Is entirely your own fault.”

Las Vegas, Nevada - Golden Ring Casino
September 2020

After the world had been ravaged by the throes of the Coronavirus pandemic, life started to take those all-important baby steps to resume that little thing that we like to call life, and while maintaining our safety, or at least making the attempt to, hope that life would resume to something resembling normalcy. The Vegas Strip was the first thing to slowly resume activity in the famed City of Sin. The hotels that lined the Strip slowly started to take in guests once again, and one by one, the Casinos that have made this city a world famous attraction started to open their doors as people were again willing to open their wallets. Whether they had the funds or not was not important to these people. After all, they were AMERICANS and despite the global threat of the Coronavirus, Americans detested being told what to do. So the first chance they got, they lined the Vegas Strip and every attraction that was to be had.

Some, however, took precautions that others were unwilling to and thus, risk angering patrons and losing their business. Daniel J. Morgan, owner and proprietor of the Golden Ring Casino, wanted people to again flock to his stronghold here in the city, but he wanted them to do so safely. He was the type of man to think ahead as far as long term benefits and consequences, and thus when he made that decision to throw open the doors once again to his Casino, he did so with some reserved conditions; One, there would be a limited number of people allowed inside for the time being, whereas once there were standing room only capacities inside of these walls. Two, even with the limited number allowed, he still insisted on social distancing of six feet at a bare minimum. And perhaps most importantly, masks were to be worn at all times. No exceptions.

Of course there were the random number of drama queens who cried that these rules were “unconstitutional” or they were exempt or just flat out refused. Daniel had hired additional security to deal with these people, as even he and his team of Osbourne, Charlotte and Mackenzie were wearing masks while they walked the Casino floor. And if they were willing, then there was absolutely no reason save for entitlement to keep anyone else from doing the same. And if those entitled patrons didn’t like it? The door was there. They could either show themselves out or be escorted out.

As Mackenzie might state, “the easy way or the fun way”.

But one who was interested in simply getting out of the Saxon hotel at the time he was staying, and stretching his legs and visiting the familiar surroundings, was Fenris himself, aka the White Wolf. Fenris was not a gambler. Far from it, actually. He was free enough when it came to spending his money as he lived comfortably, but to simply throw it away on a game of chance? He did not understand it and even more so, forbade his family from indulging when they would visit. Even Aron was unable to play a game at the roulette wheels or shoot some blackjack. Not without a disappointed and judgemental Fenris showing up at the back of his shoulder, ready to drag him off by force.

Carrying an alcoholic beverage in his hand (seriously, did you actually expect him NOT to have one on hand, or in hand?), Fenris walked across the Casino floor, quite content with people watching. Not that he was much of a people person per se, but it did give him some sense of amusement to watch as these people would bet their paychecks or life savings on a game and then throw a royal fit. Accusing the Casino of cheating or robbing them, and even after those bold claims, going right back to the aforementioned games and risk even more to ‘win their fortunes back.” Fenris himself never did so. The game he was here to watch in the bar where Dani worked was yet to start, so he thought he might kill a little time by watching people kill their wallets one by one. Chances are he’d need the cheering up because the wager he made with Ben Jordan over the game might not end in his favor.

And yes we get the irony of his stance on gambling but making bets with Ben over sporting events. That is COMPLETELY different!

Just as he crossed over past the rows of slot machines, he felt an unevenness on the carpeted floor beneath his sandaled foot and glanced down to see that he had stepped on a quarter. Reaching down with an extended hand, he picked the quarter up and glanced around. Could belong to anybody and it wasn’t like he was going to go out of his way to find a Lost and Found over twenty five cents. He disliked carrying cash and looked like he was about to just toss it, when he walked past a slot machine and did a double take. The flashing neon lights depicting a white wolf had seemingly caught his eye, as these lights were created to do. He looked down at the quarter and shrugged.

“Fuck it.” It wasn’t like it was his money that he was risking. He approached the machine and took a seat on the comfortable padded chair before it. He inserted the quarter and pulled the ever, and watched as the rotating three reels spun around in rapid succession. One by one they slowed to a stop and it came down to a Jack of Spades, a Jack of Spades, and a Queen of Hearts.

“Well shit.” he silently thought to himself, and he slid off the seat and went to go his way when he paused and turned back to the machine. He glanced around as if to see if there were any witnesses who might judge him as he did them, then quickly reached into his pocket for his wallet….

“God DAMN it!” Fenris cursed as for what seemed like the hundredth time, the reels stopped and ended with emblems that were unalike. He huffed in annoyance. Granted he didn’t spend much, or to be more precise, he didn’t waste much. But it was the principle! Fenris was NOT accustomed to losing at ANYTHING, and well - he just lost to a machine. Repeatedly! He snatched his drink from the stand beside the machine and leapt to his feet to take his leave. If he hurried, he’d make it to the sports bar to catch the start of the game.

He turned and started to walk in the bar’s direction when the sound of a lever being pulled caught his attention. He turned to look as a little old lady sat in the very same chair he had just vacated and was playing that game. The reels slowed and came to a stop - and the celebratory bells started to ring as coins poured forth from the chute! Fenris turned back around, eyes closed as he half muttered, “Mother fuc-!”

---

Las Vegas, Nevada - Turnberry Towers
February 2021

If there was one constant in the collective lives of Kristjan and Aron Baltasarsson, it was Dani Weston. From nigh on the time they first arrived in Sin City Wrestling in 2018, Dani had managed to find a way to charm her way into their lives and they would not have ever turned back nor traded this relationship with their little American systir (sister). They had been fiercely protective of her, especially on the part of Kristjan. She was perhaps the one person who could safely indulge themself in a stolen hug from the volatile Fenris without suffering any ill effects and perhaps even more shockingly, receive a hug right back for their efforts. It would seem she was one of the very few Kristjan had difficulty in saying no to. How else would you explain him allowing her to get him to accompany her to a craft store? Or worse, what they just so happened to be doing right this very moment --

Watching the Disney classic film, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

Yes, you heard correctly, and to say that Fenris was not a fan of anything Disney related would probably be the understatement of the century. He preferred action films, fantasy and science fiction even. But animated films where people found any reason to break into song and thus waste another few minutes of his life that he would never get back? No, thank you! But, here they were, all in his and Aron’s condo. Why you may ask, when Dani has a similar (if not slightly smaller place) just down the hall?

Simple, really. Kristjan had lost a wager with Dani and Aron, and this was his punishment, er, stakes. And as Dani stated, the brothers had a better television set up with a 64 inch plasma screen that stretched the length of a wall and an entertainment center that the brothers were always updating or adding to. Dani was seated on the sofa, leg curled up beneath her and with a smile on her face, having sung along with almost every song her little Disney marathon had afforded them. Aron sat beside her, a smile on his own face but he was not singing along. He was simply indulging their Dani, as was the norm.

Fenris? Kristjan? He was sacked out on his favorite recliner, a look of extreme boredom on his own face and not enough beers in their fridge to drown out the boredom. Aron even saw his fingers curl against the recliner’s armrests until he was nearly white knuckled, but he still maintained his composure. At least, that is, until the famed kiss that brought Snow White back to life, and the happily ever after ending started to unfold. And just as the credits started to role did Kristjan finally break his silence with this gem…

“So the moral of the story is, it’s okay for a random stranger to find a corpse in the woods and kiss it?”

Both Dani and Aron turned their heads as one to stare at Fenris who did a double take at them and he shrugged, “What!?”

---

Mandarin Oriental Hotel -
Washington DC

There was little doubt that in their native Iceland, Kristjan and Aron did not grow up in what the general public would think of the proverbial “lap of luxury''.” Oh don’t misunderstand; their family home in Reykjavik was comfortable and inviting, tastefully decorated for a family of seven in the style befitting their heritage with a touch of country flair. Names familiar with SCW such as Gabriel Stevens and Ben Jordan both had visited their home and found it so, enjoying their time under the roof even when they themselves owned homes that were near mansions by comparison. None of the five children were left wanting were their parents, Eva and Benedikt, able to provide.

But once Fenris had taken up the mantle of a professional fighter with Aron acting as both interpreter and manager for him, they had moved out on their own with none to watch after them save for the other. And even when the words “I love you” were something akin to a rarity, each brother showed their affection for the other in their own special way. It was easy enough to see how Fenris doted on Aron, showing considerable protection for his younger brother at every given opportunity. Or as some would say, overprotection. Not that Aron would say it as such. He knows that is just Kristjan’s way. It always has been ever since the two were little, being raised under the same roof and attending the same family school.

And Aron? How did he show his love and support for Kristjan even when the words were left unsaid. It was not as if he was the type to interfere in his matches to ensure victories (not that Fenris would have allowed it), nor was he the type to get involved in the physicality of the matches unless his brother were being treated unfairly as in the case of attacks or double teams, etc. But one display of his love and adoration he gives freely is the handling of his older brother’s in-ring career. He ensures that Kristjan has no worries where his career is concerned. Travel. Accommodations. Match bookings. Aron handled it all, the Stevens only stepping in when warranted or when Aron was unfamiliar with what lay in the respective contracts. Bottom line: Aron ensured that all Kristjan had to do was set foot inside of the ring and do what he does best with a clear mind.

That would be why we found ourselves in the very seat of luxury in the nation’s capital of Washington, D.C. at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. While many of the stars would find themselves in more prominent lodgings at the Marriott or the Sheraton, Aron knew his brother’s tastes for being “away” from prying eyes with an appreciation for contemporary surroundings. Not the typical and cliche flare that so-called “celebrities” might surround themselves with. The build and decor of the Mandarin was nothing short of breathtaking, and Aron was well aware that Kristjan would appreciate it as such.

“K…?” Aron’s voice suddenly drew Kristjan from whatever thoughts he found himself being dogged by - pun not intended. His inner thoughts that had been plaguing him for several weeks now only seemed to be rotating in on a far more frequent basis. Memories that would bring a smile to the average man’s face, but Kristjan was anything but average, and he was definitely not smiling. That was what had drawn his younger brother’s attention as he had been trying to speak to him for a fair few minutes now, but figured his words were just falling on deaf ears or that Kristjan was simply too lost in his own little world, concerned about the impending meeting with David Shepherd that would be taking place in only a matter of minutes. Kristjan had caught Aron by surprise when he had called David to invite him over to talk, and asking for Aron to please make himself scarce and to take his beloved Siberian Husky Kyssa along with.

Aron, of course being the teasing little brother, attempted to jest and asked Kristjan why he had to take his time in doing so. Why couldn’t he and David just, as Aron phrased it, “make and split?” One pained look from Kristjan was enough to tell Aron that he had inadvertently hit a sore spot, making him feel less than ideal. Despite his good looks and reputation, Fenris has had a surprisingly low number of sexual partners and an even lower number of men that he had allowed to get close to. Ty West was the first and to date, only “boyfriend” that his brother had as an adult and we all know how that turned out. The fact that David had somehow slipped beneath Kristjan’s radar was an amazing thing in itself. A testament that there was more to the man than just the “dick head” personae that he liked for the public to take in and be taken in by. Some of those close to the pair of alphas thought perhaps that it was a pairing based solely on lust and physical pleasures - according to witness statements of those unlucky enough to have been booked near their cabin on the Sun Princess a few months ago. But others even closer, such as Aron and David’s sister Eleanor, they knew different. Aron and Eleanor both knew that were it so, and were they only in it for the sex, the two men would not be working as hard as they were to fix what had been broken.

That was why this vacant stare and Kristjan simply zoning out and not hearing him, had his little brother so concerned.

“What!?” Kristjan almost snarled as Aron finally had enough and grabbed him by the shoulder and gave it a gentle but firm shake, hopefully to draw him out of whatever self inflicted stupor he had just drawn himself into. Others might have backed away quickly enough, but not Aron. he knew his brother’s all-too familiar and infamous temper - and was confident in the fact that even though he might display that temper in his presence, perhaps even direct it at him, that no harm would come of it. That was their bond.

“I thought I lost you there for a moment.” Aron said casually, trying to retain a calm demeanor even if the concern was there. He continued, “I was trying to talk to you about how long I should keep Kyssa out and…” But there he went again. Kristjan sat at the chair by the room’s bay window that overlooked the water in a grand view, fingers curled against his lip and staring at all but - nothing/

“K!”

“I’m fine!” He shot to his feet and walked over to where the mini bar was set up for his comfort, another little way Aron would take care of him. Even if Aron wasn't what you might call a “fan” of the way Kristjan had turned the drinking of alcoholic beverages into an art form. But Aron was unafraid and not one to be deterred as he followed Kristjan, saying, “You’re not fine. You’re almost acting like you did back in Iceland when…”

But Kristjan wheeled around and shot a warning stare right at his younger brother. And loving bond or no, there was a line that was not to be crossed, and whatever he had just been referring to, Aron had clearly come close to doing exactly that. He watched as Kristjan picked up the crystal decanter and poured a generous amount of his favorite honey-infused scotch, then casually extended a finger toward the glass and said, “A little early for that, isn’t it?”

“Hi, have you met me?” Kristjan shot right back, showcasing his own brand of quick wit. He took a sip and savored not just the taste but that warm sensation that burned along the path in the back of his throat. He closed his eyes, if only briefly, before he opened them and found those concerned cobalt blues staring at him. Aron attempted to keep a straight face so as not to alert anyone of his feelings but he had a lousy poker face. Kristjan exhaled and finally spoke up, “Look, I’m just trying to relax before this talk with David.”

“I thought you said you were fine?” Aron pointed out, using his own word against him.

“I am!” Kristjan shot back, perhaps with a touch more heat than intended. “I’m just…” He frowned, then shrugged his shoulders before having a second sip. “I’m not used to being in the wrong. That’s all.”

Aron raised one eyebrow like an expert and Kristjan huffed, and came perhaps the closest he ever has at rolling his eyes as he retorted, “Okay, fine! I’m not used to ADMITTING I’m wrong! Okay!? Happy!?”

Aron said nothing. All he did was scrunch up his youthful, handsome face and hold up his index and thumb in a universal “little bit” gesture. Fenris shook his head at his brother’s teasing, but it was altogether something that he was used to over the years, just as Aron was used to his brother’s temper and own brand of caustic teasing. When they were kids with two older sisters who made their lives hell, and one younger sister who looked upon them both with a childlike adoration, Kristjan and Aron had formed a bond that extended beyond mere blood. And no matter how upset or angry one would get at the other, that bond was never broken. It remained - always. But just as he was readying himself to say something, holding up the glass of scotch in one hand, their verbal jousting was interrupted by a rap on the hotel room door. Both brothers turned their head as one to look toward the source, followed by Aron turning his attention, now one of brotherly concern, to his older sibling.

“I’ll get Kyssa.” Aron offered, then nodded toward the glass in his hand. “You might want to finish that and get seconds.”

Then, as Aron left the room, Fenris walked across the white, plush carpeting in his bare feet to approach the door to their suite. Grasping the handle, he gave it a deft turn and opened the door to find his invited guest, David Shepherd standing there. Whereas Fenris could have sworn there had been a momentary look of apprehension on David’s face, it was quickly erased and hidden behind the facade of steel-edged determination. In a way, it reminded Fenris of himself and his own stubborn traits. How, despite the fact that he wanted answers from David as to his disappearing act for two months, and how he wanted to clear the air between them and hope they could mend the rift that he himself - Fenris - had caused, he wished that he could somehow stop time. Or reverse it - and keep Aron from handing him the phone and prompting his brother to call David and issue the invitation to their room.

He both wanted answers, but did not want to hear or acknowledge how badly he had fucked things up between the two of them. It had been one thing to want to keep his private life private after everything that he had experienced with Kris Ryans and Ty West, but somehow - this ‘thing’ between David and himself was different. Had it been just mind shattering sex - and it was - Fenris wouldn’t have cared so much. It was as stated.

This was different.

“Well?” David prompted with a raised brow, severing Kristjan from his private thoughts. “I’m not the pizza guy. Are you letting me in or leaving me standing here?”

Kristjan frowned at David’s own brand of wit, but silently stepped aside and stood as rigid as a sentinel, allowing David to pass - and perhaps to glance down covertly and catch a glance of his backside in an appreciative view. And no sooner did Kristjan shut the door, then he turned to find David surveying the suite with almost a wide-eyed sense of awe.

“Wow.” David spoke calmly. “You are living large.” He then turned to Kristjan and asked, “How the hell is it that you have a suite like this and I end up in a room looking more like Motel 6??”

Kristjan just shrugs, slugging back the remaining contents of his glass and says casually, “What can I say? My manager likes me more than your manager.”

Of course, Kristjan was joking - in his own way. But did David know this? The young Shepherd watched with a slightly creased brow as Kristjan walked across the room and to the mini bar where he proceeded to refill his glass from a crystal decanter. Kristjan glanced up toward David, then raised a brow inquiringly and David answered not with words but a slight nod. Kristjan then set his own glass down and picked up an empty one to fill it for his guest.

“Where’s your brother?” David asked casually, knowing the brothers almost always shared a suite but wasn’t anxious to have this conversation outside of this hotel where just anyone could witness, or in front of Aron inside these walls. “In the other room.” Kristjan answered as he crossed over to hand the glass to David, who frowned at him.

“There’s another room?” He asked almost in disbelief as he again started looking around at his immediate surroundings.

“Of course!” Kristjan shot back. “Do you think we’re taking turns sleeping on the fucking sofa??” David turned back to him and accepted the glass filled with the honey-infused Scotch. Kristjan continued, “He’s getting Kyssa ready. He’s taking her for a walk so we can talk in private.”

“Who’s Kyssa?” David asked casually as he raised the glass to take a drink, being answered by Aron as the door to the other room opened, “This is Kyssa.”

(TBC in David Shepherd’s RP)

---

Washington, DC -
Current


The Reflecting Pool of the Lincoln Memorial was truly a breathtaking tourist attraction, one to be seen and revered. It had been used as a formal setting in the filming of movies such as Tom Hanks’ Forest Gump, and now it was being used as the setting for a wrestling promo. Anyone can film a promo from a bar, a hotel room or an undisclosed location. But sometimes there are things that were just meant to be appreciated. This was one of them.

Dusk had already fallen and passed over the skyline of the nation’s capital, and night had fallen. This made the Reflecting Pool even more visually pleasing to the senses as the lights came on to better illuminate the surrounding memorials, the cascading reflections dancing on the surface of the pool’s water as the wind gently lapped at the water, causing even the slightest of rippling waves to pass across. Fenris, who was not an American, still found this location to be something calming. He was always a night person. So many times in his youth did he climb up on the roof of the family home at night and watch the stars. Here? He walked along the left path of the pool with only a handful of tourists there as well. While these men and women, young and old alike, wore clothes that were befitting the fall season as a chill had taken the air, not so with Fenris. He was, after all, from Iceland and this weather was nothing to him. So the fact he walked sporting a loose and sleeveless muscle shirt and matching white shorts drew a stare or two, he was unhindered as his mind was on his upcoming match, and it alone.

“Well! After all this time, I am finally back. And no, I do not mean back in Washington, D.C. as I have admittedly never been here before. I mean back, as in back in the world title picture of SCW. I have not been involved in a world title match or even a contender match for this very title, since Ben Jordan and I wrestled what had to be the best match of my career. I lost, but you know something? Arrogant as I admit that I am, losing a match to a man like Ben was nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. It was something to be celebrated because the likes have not been seen since. Do you know the only thing about that world title shot that just so happens to piss me off?”

Fenris turned his head to the camera and leaned in, his face flushed and his eyes emblazoned.

“It was over a fucking year ago!”

Some heads turned and eyes stared at the random outburst by the Icelandic superstar, but he pressed on as he turned back away and continued his walk.

“One year and seven months! That is the last time I have been inside of the ring with the World Champion! That is the last time that I was granted the opportunity at becoming a two-time champion! And recently? I’ve had champions say things like they wanted to step inside of the ring with me! That they wanted to put their title at stake against me! But when and where have those matches taken place? Well this might come as a bit of a surprise to you, but those matches didn’t happen! Every time I turned around, someone else was being given that very same opportunity denied me! Every time I looked, someone else was being put in a match to earn the chance at being the number one contender! Everyone, that is, but me! Where are my chances? Where are my opportunities?”

He shook his head with a mock look of confusion on his part as his arms spread open wide.

“Your guess is as good as mine because I hate to brag, but if anyone on this goddamn roster deserves a shot at the World title, I’d think it would be me! Because that last match I had for the gold against Ben Jordan was also the last time I was beaten inside of the ring!”

He nodded his head knowingly.

“Yeah! I haven’t been beaten in a match in almost two years and I still don’t get jack shit to show for it! Now I know I've said in the past that I don’t need the world title to prove that I’m the best because not only did I hold it once, but I have the second longest reign in SCW history! Second only to J2H himself! So I assume Christian or Mark or SOMEONE in power just took me for my word out of malice or sarcasm and thought if that’s how I felt, I’d just keep riding the goddamn merry-go-round and take away the brass ring so I have nothing to reach for! Nothing to strive for, no light at the end of the tunnel! At least, not until now.”

“Now on one hand I am satisfied that I am at least being given the chance to get back into the world title scene, especially at the biggest event of the year. Shit, I kid you not, what a thrill that would be to step into the ring at High Stakes XI against Alex Jones and walk out as a two-time World Champion.”

Fenris turned his head quickly to the camera and shook his head.

“No offense, Alex. Respect. But the fact that I’m in there with Vinnie and Jack Washington to earn that world title shot, that kind of gets me. Right here!”

He tapped his temple with a forefinger.

“Because, seriously? Vinnie has not been seen inside of a ring since Summer XXXTreme VII, but that could be overlooked because he was out with an injury. An injury caused by, ironically enough, David Shepherd. So I suppose his inclusion could be overlooked because, like him or not, Vinnie has proven himself inside of the ring, more often than not. Our last match together was that tag team match at Summer XXXTreme VII, but it was not Vinnie who took the fall in order for his team to lose. Vinnie has done just about everything possible to cement his standing; World champion. Two-time Internet champion. I may have no interest in the ‘lesser’ titles, but props to any man who can step inside of that ring and take one for himself! There is no shame in knowing what you want in this path in life, and going out there and grabbing it! It is what I would do, and I would expect no less from any man I oppose. Last of all, Senor Vinnie.”

“Vinnie, you and I? We’ve had ourselves a history ever since Ty West and his Aunt Lora were in the picture. I was one of the ones who was completely against your marrying her because, quite frankly, I thought she was too good for you. I look back now and wonder if it was more the other way around. I had some semblance of hope that after Ty and I ended things, perhaps Lora would still have something to do with me because, shit. I liked the woman! Or at least, I thought I did. But no. The moment her beloved nephew left me, all contact was cut. And you? I know of your divorce and believe me, Fyrirgefðu. (I am sorry) But somehow I imagine the same could be said. No contact from Lora? Acting as if you had never existed? Yes? No? No matter, is really none of my business. My point was that in some ways, we are similar. In others, not so much. When we first met, I thought you were a fucking psycho. A goddamn lunatic for talking to a cactus but can not deny a sense of pride in that is a thing of the past. As for your mental state?”

He shook his head.

“None of my business. Point is, maybe you are not as bad as I believed. We have met in the ring before, and each time we beat the shit out of each other. It did not matter if it was a singles match or tag team. Sometimes the world title was at stake between us, other times - just pride. Which can be just as dangerous and even more valuable. Now here we are again, only this time there’s a third but he’s really inconsequential because this match will be decided between us. Just you and me. And much as I am beginning to respect you, maybe even like you? There is one common factor between us every time we’ve faced each other. I’ve won. Every. Time.”

Fenris then stopped and turned toward the water, facing the surface and watching as if the light reflecting off of the surface had almost a calming, hypnotic effect.

“I suppose that brings us to Daniel Morgan - I mean, Jack Washington. Sorry, Jack. You can understand my confusion because every time I see you or hear anything about you and that casino of yours, I keep thinking about my friend Daniel who arrived in SCW years before you did, and opened a casino. Again, years before you did. I suppose the saying goes that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery but there’s a difference between imitating something someone else did and flat out ripping off their idea to use as your own. Difference being, at least Daniel’s Golden Ring Casino is a success because I hear fuck all news about yours.”

“But Daniel is not the only SCW star that you remind me of. Believe it or not, and trust me when I say this is the highest compliment you will ever receive, but you remind me a little bit of myself. The arrogance outside of the ring. The confidence inside of the ring. Championship success rate. Like me, you’ve had it all. Okay, I imagine that there is a difference between us where the world title is concerned. I held it once. You held it…”

He held up two fingers and nodded.

“Yes, Jack. You held it twice. There is no denying the fact that you are a two-time champion. Only thing is, that just means that you also lost it two times. There is also the little matter that my one World title reign lasted longer than both of yours combined! You know…”

He paused, a frown suddenly on his face as he glanced away from the waters as if in deep thought.

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you and I are not all that alike. I mean, when I was champion, I was right there on every show, scheduled or not. Just to hype and advertise SCW as a whole. I fought each and every single person who crossed my path whether they deserved a title shot or not. I did not care. I simply wanted the exposure. I wanted the championship to have the exposure! I went through every one - every single one - of my challengers for almost nine months! Until I met and lost to Austin James Mercer! Yeah. But during all of those months, I raised the bar so that NOBODY who followed after me would have an easy job at living up to the same standard that I had laid out! Least of all, you.”

“Your two reigns?”

He shook his head.

“Forgettable at best. One could even be forgiven if they forgot you ever even won the championship, let alone held it twice! You were hyped as the next big thing! You even won the Future Star of the Year award and probably have made every single person who cast their vote in your favor realize just how badly they fucked up in doing so! You are all style Jack, and little substance. Yes, you might have some impressive showings inside of the ring, but what it all comes down to is one simple fact; you have not got it in you to be someone that the wrestling world will look back on years from now and remember. This weekend? It is not about you, believe it or not. Is not even about Vinnie.”

He tapped a forefinger to his sternum.

“It is about me. It is about my time, and finally getting back what I deserve! Nothing is going to stop me, and nobody is going to get in my way!”

That being said, Fenris turned his back to the camera and walked back the way he came until the screen finally faded to black.

Las Vegas, Nevada -
Go Gym

Gabriel hadn’t intended for the gym to be open on this day. Even the man who, alongside his wife Odette, had become known as a “maker of champions,” needed a day off once in a while to spend with family and friends rather than run the risk of becoming a workaholic. But the man was immensely proud of the men and women whom he called their students, each and every one from past to present, and when one was in need or felt a strong desire to burn off some energy at the weights or inside of the ring, he had little desire to refuse them. Before the ravages of the Covid-19 pandemic, the famed Go Gym was open pretty much each and every day, all the better to prepare their students for the rigors of the sport. In fact, training every day was almost a mandatory requirement. But since the world has changed around them, the Stevens had little alternative but to change their practices along with it. They still mandated rigorous training on scheduled days, but extended the training hours so that they still got in time needed but also gave the men and women they were responsible for time off so their bodies and minds could rest and recover.They had no desire to push their students so far as to near a breaking point.

They simply wanted them to succeed.

And one such student who seemingly did not know the meaning of the words “day off” was the man who was currently inside of one of the two rings the GO Gym housed; Fenris. Fenris, Gabriel acknowledged, had fast become something of a masochist when it came to putting himself through intensive training at his own expense. Aron told him that every morning, rain or shine, hung over or well rested, Fenris would drag his ass, and that of his brother, out of bed just as the sun was rising for a morning run of four to six miles at the nearest park, usually the Charlie Frias Park,  or even down the Vegas Strip. Sometimes, to add to the “misery,” Fenris would even show up at the doors of friends such as Dani Weston or Bobbie Dahl and drag them along, their lack of desire being completely alien and thus, lost to him. And after returning home, showering and changing, that was when he would always head for the Go Gym training facility to ensure everything he knew remained sharp. Each time, he pushed himself almost well beyond his limits before he called it a day, sometimes at Gabriel’s insistence, sometimes at Aron’s, and most rarely, at his own. Only for Gabriel to find the man entering the gym the very next morning, ready to begin the process all over again.

This time, however, Gabriel ran into a bit of difficulty in finding a sparring partner for the man at such late notice. Fenris was there every day like clockwork, working out but this time, for this match in particular, he did not seem overly concerned nor focused. Part of Gabriel’s mindset showed concern for this because it was entirely unlike Fenris, or what he had taught the man. Gabriel and Odette both had drilled into each and every student to never - ever - take any opponent lightly or for granted. One wrong move and an upset could happen, and it would be the opponent’s arm, not yours, that would be raised in victory. Of course, on the other hand, Gabriel also understood why Fenris almost seemed to not give a damn. We were talking about Brayden Hilton, after all. Thus far all he had shown was a man that was all hype, all name, but little substance. Relying on foul tactics and his family name to get by rather than anything even remotely resembling athletic talent.

Ordinarily Gabriel would have foregone any further attempt to do so and step inside of the ring himself, but the fact that his wife Odette had dropped their son Lucas off while she and their daughter went into town. Lucas had wanted to hang out with dad at the gym rather than run errands, so Gabriel had a young one to keep a watchful eye on rather than step inside of the ring for a training session with one of his prize students. And of course, Lucas had also offered to help in this regard, but one quick ‘tickle session’ courtesy of the White Wolf and a giggling Lucas quickly cried “uncle.’

---

Earlier that day…

The eight year old Lucas stood in the ring with the brightest smile on his youthful face, dressed in his favorite Animaniacs t shirt and shorts. But this was not the first time that this brave young warrior had set foot inside of the six-sided ring. Only a few years ago, he stood inside this very same ring set to “challenge” the then-World Champion Fenris for his prestigious title. Under dire threat of bodily harm from Odette if he hurt her baby boy, Fenris took the utmost care of Lucas. Not because of the threat but because, as much of a temper as he wielded and as vile a temperament as he possessed, Gabriel and Odette’s son was probably the only child that could bring down the self-imposed walls that Fenris had erected around himself. Kids were his one true Achilles heel, but not so much where this one was concerned.

And just like three years before, Fenris stood opposite of him, across the ring in his wrestling gear. But unlike then, this time Fenris had indeed shed those walls and was ‘hamming it up,’ eyes wide and beckoning the child to come on. With a smile on his face, Gabriel had rang the timekeeper’s bell on the ring apron and watched as Lucas cried out in his own ‘savage’ glee and charged right into Fenris’s arms. And to his credit, the big lug played right along, falling to his back and allowing the boy the upper hand - briefly. Soon enough Fenris had Lucas down and just like before, quickly found the ticklish spots under his arms and the child was soon laughing uncontrollably, kicking his legs until ultimately, Fenris got him to say “uncle.” But even then Lucas was not finished with his “opponent,” as the moment Fenris released him to stand up, Lucas had him in a playful side headlock. All the while Gabriel watched with the brightest of smiles, laughing to himself.

---

Finally, Gabriel had some success in finding a training partner for Fenris by sheer luck. One of those random students you hear mention from Krystal Wolfe on social media, a young Josh Sobeck just so happened to arrive at the Gym on something of a whim, to see if it was open and he could sneak in a brief workout. No sooner did he step through the doors than all heads turned, and his life flashed before his eyes.

Wrong time, wrong place, as they say.

A startled yelp of surprise rang throughout the Gym as Fenris hauled Josh up to his feet, twisted his arm into an extended arm lock and threw him over to the mat in a Judo toss! Josh’s body landed on the padded canvas of the ring, but with enough impact it shook the ring and his body literally bounced up not once but twice. Yet if he thought that would be the end of this session which had already gone on ten minutes too long for his own liking, it did not stop there. Fenris pulled him back up to his feet and repeated the process; an arm twisted into a Judo throw. Wash, rinse and repeat a total of three times. By the third time his body had hit the canvas, poor Josh had the wind driven completely from his body and all the flips resulted in him not knowing which way was up! Fenris had hold of his wrist and held him at arm’s length, walking around him in a full circle until he ducked behind him and wrapped an arm around his chin while retaining the arm lock, and pulled him down to the canvas in a full on body scissors; trapping Josh in an Asuka lock! Perhaps the favorite of submission holds in Fenris’s arsenal, it took no time at all for Josh to “tap out,” thus ending the sparring match.

“Yayyy!” Lucas called out from across the gym where he sat on a bench, gleefully happy at Fenris ‘winning.’ The boy leapt to his feet and clapped his hands together, obviously pleased as Gabriel helped guide a shaken Josh from the ring and directed him elsewhere.

“Go.” Gabriel chuckled, feeling somewhat guilty for the poor guy again, ending up on the wrong side of a session with his own personal nightmare. He patted the young man on the back and stated, “I think you’ve had enough for one day. Forget the weights this time, hit the showers.” Urging him off. Gabriel watched as the young man limped his way toward the men’s locker room, shaking his head and turning around toward his ‘other’ student. And to him, that is what Fenris would always be right up until the day he decided to ultimately end his in-ring career and retire. 

Fenris sat on the edge of the ring apron, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. That what just had happened inside of the training ring was just another day. And for him, it pretty much was just that. It was a very rare occurrence where Fenris stepped in at Gabriel’s request to assist training a young man with hopes and dreams of his own to break into the sport of professional wrestling. After all, it wasn’t like Gabriel was short on help, if he needed it at all. Gabriel was not one of those trainers who took the fees and then sat back while others did all the work while he kept the glory for himself. No, Gabriel was more often than not, right there in the ring, handling the training himself. That was how it was done with Fenris himself, and it was how Gabriel also had trained Aron. The former two-time World Heavyweight Champion lived by the credo “if you want something done right, you do it yourself.’ But that did not mean he wasn’t above having a helping hand every now and then. After all, he had his Despayre always at the gym, always ready and willing to lend a hand - just so long as there were no babes involved. There was also Shane Boswell, Synn, Jake Sullivan and even O’Malley.

Fenris, however, had little to no patience (big surprise there) for training someone else when most, if not all, of his time was preoccupied with training himself. His patience with the students was not well known, and he had little desire to coddle anyone when they were preparing for such a rough and tumble world as they would be forced to survive in. He would often begin to think of them as, and treat them like, actual opponents in a ‘make or break’ mindset. This was why Gabriel would only ask for his assistance on very rare occasions, such as when there was a headstrong charge who needed to be taught a hard lesson in humility. And it was why only at these times did Fenris agree. For one, he got a tickle out of slapping a punk bitch around who thought he was all that without having to put in any tried and true effort to succeed. (Gee, who does THAT remind you of?) And two, he owed Gabriel much, inside of the ring and out. He helped transition this MMA superstar into perhaps the fastest rising World Heavyweight Champion in SCW history. Four months in after his debut and the gold was his, beginning a reign of dominance and an undefeated streak that lasted almost a full year.

But it was outside of the ring where Gabriel had made his mark with this hot headed Icelandic star. Because when he needed a lesson in humility himself, Gabriel was there. When his arrogance overcame his intelligence, Gabriel brought his head down from out of the clouds and taught him the value of keeping those close even closer rather than drive them away. And when the wrestling and MMA worlds were shocked by the indiscreet affair between Fenris and Kris Ryans, revealing the “White Wolf” as a closeted homosexual, Gabriel had been there to talk him down. Part tough love, part genuine concern; Gabriel had been there.

“You were a little rough in there, weren’t you?” Gabriel asked calmly, but it had been put more of a statement of fact rather than openly questioning. It was enough, however, to draw the attention of Fenris who looked up, his brow knitted in something of a cross between confusion and a frown. The entire time he had been in the ring, sparring with Josh, he had thought he had been going light on the kid. Or at the very least, his version of what going light was. Fenris then extended a hand over to Gabriel…

“Hi, I’m Kristjan.” He stated without mirth or menace in his voice. Just a flat, even tone. “Have we met?”

Gabriel looked down at the offered hand, then glanced upward through his brow and at the stone set face of his charge. Their eyes met briefly before the corner of Gabriel’s lips twitched and he shook his head. “Wise arse…” He half muttered, just loud enough so that Fenris could hear, but not so loud that his son would be able as he turned and had a seat beside Fenris on the edge of the ring apron. There was only the briefest of moments of silence between the two men before ultimately Gabriel asked, “So what was that all about, anyway? You were a little more aggressive than normal in there with poor Josh.”

“Is he alright?” Fenris asked casually, to which Gabriel smiled, “He’s a tough kid. He’ll be alright. If anything, it’ll push him to work harder.” But he then turned his head and addressed Fenris more directly, “But you’re changing the subject. You didn’t answer my question. What was that about?”

Gabriel waited a moment, knowing just how close this young man kept his literal heart on his proverbial sleeve, and how much he valued his privacy in any and all matters. The few rare times he had a problem and Gabriel had succeeded in making a breakthrough by getting him to open up, even if just a little, was momentous. He had seen Fenris through some of his best times, but also some of his worst, during his stay in Las Vegas. That was why he was getting so good at reading not only this student in particular, but all of the GO Gym graduates overall.

He finally asked, “Something wrong?”

“Why would you think something is wrong?”

“Come on. I’ve known you since `17. I think I can read you just enough to know when something is gnawing at you.” Gabriel pointed out the obvious, then something of the not so obvious. “Plus, you seemed pretty lax about training for Brayden and yet here you are.”

Fenris remained calm, stoic. “You always said not to take any opponent lightly.”

“True.” Gabriel acknowledged this to be fact with a nod of the head. “But let’s face facts. We’ve all seen Brayden’s two matches that he’s had so far. Kid is…”

“A punk ass bitch.” Fenris stated without hesitation, only looking up at the clearing of Gabriel’s throat and then across the Gym’s floor to where Lucas was. A silent warning to kindly watch the foul language that Fenris had turned into an art form when his children were anywhere nearby.

Gabriel, despite the immediate circumstance, nodded in agreement, but then said, “True. Let’s face facts. Brayden’s sister Brittany is more dangerous in his matches than Brayden himself. I think she’s the one you have to worry about.”

“Unless that’s just the image the little shi- the little punk…” He quickly corrected himself. “... Wants to project or us to think. I’m not taking the chance. I haven’t lost a match since my last match with Ben.” Bringing up the topic of that epic encounter the two men had over the World Heavyweight Championship, one that fast became something others had to live up toward and was a runner up to the Match of the Year for 2020. Fenris then added, “I’m not worried about her getting involved. It’ll be her swan song if she decides to stick her worked on nose into my match with her brother.”

“What are you talking about?” Gabriel asked out of genuine curiosity. “You know you can’t lay a hand on her.”

“I never said I would. And you know damn well that Aron would never lay a hand on her.” Fenris lifted his downcast, hang-dog expression from the floor to Gabriel. He shook his head but this time it was he who had a wisp of a conspiratorial smile on the lips. “But do you think I don’t know any women who would gladly do the job for the both of us?”

Gabriel shrugged, acknowledging this to be fact. Charlotte. Mackenzie. Hell, even Tempest from the Gym would probably be willing to intervene and prevent Brittany Williams from potentially costing Fenris the match on Sunday against Brayden. He then opted to press a touch harder, this time toward what could be a more sensitive topic as he asked, “Is it about David?” Fenris quickly brought his attention toward his mentor and Gabriel added, “Shepherd…”

“I know who you mean!” Fenris barked, quickly checking himself rather than allow the little one who looked up to think he dared to raise his voice at his dad. He checked himself and asked, “You telling me you know about David?” The quickly amended, “Not that there is anything…”

“Of course not.” Humored him, taking his eyes away from Fenris. Not being stared at as they talked might be a small key to getting the man to open up, even if just a little. He noticed from the corner of his eye, Fenris also looked away, but he could see the faintest traces of coloring rise up along his neck and ears. So he was either embarrassed or angry. When dealing with Fenris, sometimes it was hard to decipher one from the other. He then stressed, “But we’ve been through this whole song and dance before. You don’t have to hide who you are from anyone.”

“And I told you that sometimes I'd prefer to keep my private life private.” Fenris countered.

“I understand.” Gabriel raised a hand to try to help ward off any of that infamous temper of his from rising to the surface like an active volcano, ready to blow at any moment. “But you can’t fault a friend for wanting to be there for another friend.” There was a moment’s pause between them, and Gabriel heard the distinctive sound of a breath escaping the man beside him, a sigh of annoyance or indignation.

“I guess not.” Was all that he said, but it was something. It was a first step.

“Was it that TMZ video?” Gabriel added and the sudden intake of breath from Fenris told him that he had just hit the nail on the head.

“You heard about that?” Was all Fenris had to ask, and Gabriel chuckled. Not at the expense of his student, but at the situation that this man tended to find himself in seemingly every time someone caught his interest.

“I did.” Gabriel answered. “I didn’t have to, but I did. Actually, nobody had to see that after that pair of lip locks you two put on each other after your match.” Gabriel smirked and gave a playful, bro-type elbow into Fenris’s bicep. “That kind of gave away that there was something there. The TMZ video just confirmed it.”

“God’s…!” Fenris looked up toward the ceiling and shook his head in frustrated dismay. “Just once I would like to be involved with something that didn’t fall under public scrutiny!”

“Yes, well. Good luck with that.” Was all Gabriel could say, turning Fenris’s attention toward him.

“Meaning?” Fenris confronted him. Gabriel answered, “Meaning, I understand you want to keep your private life separate from your professional one. Believe me, I get it! When O and I had Lucas there, all anybody wanted to know about was him. His gender, his name, they started demanding pictures of our son as if it was their right! I heard what Candy said to you on Twitter, and I agree and disagree. I think giving an autograph at appropriate times is the least we can do for someone’s support, but when people start trying to invade our personal lives? That’s when it’s time to draw the line.”

“Well, too late for that now.” Fenris seemed to fall into an almost icy trance, his eyes staring straight ahead but seemingly at nothing, not seeing a thing before him. “Just can’t believe they were waiting outside of my cabin, like a goddamn stalker!”

Gabriel sighed, admitting, “Unfortunately that is the price to pay for a celebrity. People will always sink to new depths to dig up dirt on someone. Bright side?”

Fenris turned and frowned at the man, shaking his head, “Oh I dare you…”

But that did not phase Gabriel one iota as he smiled, his shoulders trembling from the effort of restraining himself. He quipped, “At least this time they didn’t get anything incriminating caught on tape?”

Fenris slowly closed his eyes and turned away, shaking his head in an embarrassed silence. But Gabriel was known for being just a touch mischievous as he was unable to help adding, “Not that they would have had to, if half the details Esther said was true.”

“Please, stop!” Fenris all but demanded in a vain effort to curb Gabriel’s fun at his expense. Gabriel chuckled and did indeed opt to let the man off the hook, adding one last piece of advice, from one friend to another. “Fen-Kristjan.” Gabriel found himself dropping the use of his ring name, and going for the more informal use of his given name. A sign of the bond and familiarity between the two men. He advised, “I know you like to keep things close, but there is nothing wrong with letting those closest to you in just a little bit. You managed with Ty…”

“And look where that got me.”

“Okay, point for you.” Gabriel admitted. “But my point remains the same. If all this is making you that uncomfortable, maybe it’s time to talk to David about what happened on that TMZ video. Or the youtube one that member of his congregation put up.”

Fenris slowly turned his head back to Gabriel and he asked heatedly, “What youtube video…!?”

---

Crown and Anchor British Pub

Fenris had never been the type to appreciate or frequent the fancier, brightly lit modern nightclubs with loud, screaming patrons and flashing neon lights, that seemed to draw Las Vegas visitors and citizens like flies to manure. Only a handful of those closest to him knew that he had an uncomfortable ‘thing’ with enclosed spaces were concerned, and when these clubs were at their peak, they became standing room only and it was a feeling like the walls closing in around you. He disliked how crowded they tended to get and the vast amount of noise that these clubs tended to bring to loud enough levels that might damage your eardrums for life, or at least cause an intense ringing in the ears until it slowly subsided sometime in the next twenty-four hours - if you were lucky.

The closest he would ever come to going to such a club was the very one that just so happened to be housed inside of the Golden Ring Casino, owned and operated by London Underground’s own Daniel Morgan. SCW and SCU stars were actively encouraged to visit what has fast become a staple to the inner circle of both promotions, but were you to ask Fenris his preferred choice of establishment? It would be the very one he was sitting in at this moment, laying in wait if you will. The Crown and Anchor pub was quiet, with dark lights and low music, if any at all. The decor was minimal but quaint, like any decent pub should be. Here, it was all about the atmosphere, and of course the food and drink. You could have your fill of any one of a number of traditional British ales, but also order off a full menu, some of Great Britain’s top dishes, including everything from fish n’ chips to bangers and mash.

Of course, Fenris wasn’t here for the food. At least, not yet. A vegetarian and British food do not always go hand in hand. Instead, he sat back in one of the booths, in the darkest corner under dim lighting, all the better to keep prying eyes from invading where they were not wanted. Another reason not to have gone to the Golden Ring Casino; the SCW stars were known there,and expected. One look at who he was meeting with and the tongues were surely to begin wagging. So, he sat there with a tall pint of London Porter in hand when a voice said approaching him from behind, “Sorry I’m late!”

And Fenris watched as none other than David Shepherd slid into the booth beside him. -- What? You were actually expecting someone else??? David paused briefly to take in his surroundings before he looked back across the booth to the man opposite him, practically immune to the chilled demeanor that Fenris happened to take on upon his arrival.

“Nice.” David nodded, holding a similar appreciation in the establishment as Fenris, before he addressed him, “Took me a bit longer to find the place than I expected.”

Fenris still did not deign to respond just yet as a ‘barmaid’ approached the table and her eyes shined almost as brightly as her smile, being lucky enough to be assigned a booth with not just one good looking man, but two! As she had already served Fenris his beer, her eyes were for David only this time around, asking, “What can I get you, luv?” Leaving David to ponder as he leaned back to look past her and toward the chalk board with the specials listed above the bar. But before he could ultimately come to his own decision, Fenris took it upon himself to solve the smallest of dilemmas by telling the barmaid, “He’ll have a Black Dog lager.”

She turned from Fenris to David for confirmation and David shrugged, “I guess I’ll be having a Black Dog lager.” Leaving her to smile and nod, turning away to head back toward the bar to fill his order.

David then continued to look around, surveying his surroundings with a silent appreciation. He casually, and innocently, said, “Nice place. You wouldn’t think it was a gay bar…”

“It’s not.” Fenris said, correcting his observation. “I do not like most gay bars that I’ve been to. The rare ones I’ve let myself be dragged to. Too loud. Too crowded.”

“You’re not into that scene?” David asked in a casual attempt to get to know at least a little something further about the man seated across from him, besides the fact he was attractive and great in bed.

Fenris answered, “Never was. Been to like - three, in my whole life and it was all the same. Loud music. Loud people. Fucking drama everywhere you look! Can’t even talk to someone without the arrogant little fucks thinking you’re out for a piece of ass rather than just someone to talk to. Places are goddamned meat markets! Would rather be in a dark, quiet place like this instead of staring at some man in a dress or assless chaps.”

“Depends on the ass I suppose.” David quipped as the barmaid returned, sliding the tall pint of beer in its place before David. Perhaps to her vast disappointment, David did not return her smile or even wink. A slight “thanks” but otherwise, his attentions was for the man seated opposite him. David took a drink of the dry, almost gritty beer before setting it down on the table in front of him and saying, “Not bad. Bit stronger than the beers I know.”

“Most beers from Europe are.” Fenris stated. “Mackenzie calls American beer ‘piss water.’ You should try Snake Venom, sometime.”

“Excuse me?” David said, wondering if he misheard or misunderstood.

“Is a brand of Icelandic beer.” Fenris answered for his benefit. “Strongest in world at sixty-seven percent.”

“Shit…” David relaxed back against the plush tanned leather of the booth, then a wicked grin crossed his lips as he said, “If you’re trying to get me drunk for a repeat performance, you’re wasting your time.” Taking extra care to keep his voice low. He was still what you might describe as ‘fresh out of the closet’ and was not comfortable enough in his own skin, let alone a public and intimate exchange such as the one he was having with Fenris.

The bold claim, however, gave Fenris pause from his personal thoughts to instead raise his brow. David was, in his own mind, ‘sex on legs,’ and he was nothing if not confident that if he wanted David in bed, it would take little to no convincing. “We really need to talk.” Fenris said, expertly and curtly ending any further attempts by David at any form of light-hearted banter between the two … what were they, anyway? It seemed to be too soon to tell or put a name on whatever was happening between the two men.

“Okay…” David was about to take another drink of his beer, and instead he set it back down with a sense of dread beginning to well up in the pit of his stomach; almost like a knot growing tighter. Maybe Fenris got what he wanted on the cruise and saw no further need or use for him… He sighed and rubbed massaged his temple with the fingers of his right hand as he asked, “About anything in particular? About that TMZ video? If it was about what my sister said about us, I swear…”

“No.” Fenris interrupted. “Not about that video.” The emphasis on the word ‘that’ not being lost on David. Fenris then held up his free hand, and in it was his phone with a video set on it. A video from the former Church of the Good Shepherds here in Las Vegas. A very familiar video that David recognized almost immediately. Someone in his Congregation had, in fact, recorded and uploaded the sermon in his promo where he indulged everyone in the most sexualized and intimate details of he and Fenris being intimate in every way, every place, and every position imaginable in that cabin that one evening.

David’s eyes rose from the screen to meet the openly hostile stare of Fenris who tossed the phone onto the table top. He shook his head, “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“It’s not like that…” David started to stress, but he wasn’t given much of a chance, if any at al, in defending himself from this not-too-subtle of accusations. When Fenris and that temper of his got the steam rolling, it was hard if not outright impossible to slow him down.

“Don’t.” Fenris said quietly. “I… I just am pissed at myself for being fooled into thinking this was anything more than it was, I guess. I mean, I’ve had one night stands every now and then, but I think this is a first, even for me. I’ve never been used for a promotional booty call before.”

The words hung like icicles in the air between the two men, as if the raging hot temperatures outside in the Las Vegas air was beginning to cool down considerably. David’s brow now started to knit into a frown of its own, practically matching that of Fenris’s. “Excuse me…?” he started to say but Fenris extended a hand, palm up, across the table in a universal gesture.

Fenris said, “I mean, come on! Isn’t that what men do? Bag someone and then go about and brag to all of their buddies? Tell them all the details?” But this time, perhaps for the first time, Fenris may have met his match as a look flashed across David’s own eyes. Pain. Hurt. … Anger.

He said with no small amount of venom to his own tone of voice as he confronted Fenris finally with his own misgivings between them, saying, “Well I’d rather have someone brag about being with me than to be flat out denied!”

And surprisingly, Fenris said nothing. He was either caught unaware by this sudden change in David’s own strong demeanor, or he was accepting of the fact that what David was saying was no less than true - and that he had no real defense for it.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re…” he started to say, but this time it was David who interrupted him, arching his brow in mock wonder as he said, “Really? So you haven’t been on twitter ever since YOU bagged ME, denying anything ever happened between us?”

“That’s different…” Fenris tried to defend himself, but David was all over him, saying before he could continue to muster a defense, “Sure it is. You like to keep your private life private!” **air quotes** “Boo hoo! But let me ask you this! What do you think is more damaging to someone!? A moment’s embarrassment… or being flat out denied?”

Fenris frowned as David sat there, rigid. Waiting. Then, ultimately, David Shepherd shook his head and stood up. “Fuck this! This was a mistake!” And he slid out of the bar and simply stormed out of the pub, a few heads having turned to watch him leave and having overheard the outburst from both men. Fenris watched him go, not taking a step to stop him. He then fell back against the booth and muttered, “God damn it….”

---

Las Vegas, Nevada -
GO Gym

Yes, it indeed was time to return here to the famed GO Gym, but this time more for business rather than pleasure. And this time, the setting inside of the gym was different than in times past when Fenris was set to cut the promo for whatever upcoming match he was scheduled for. The interior of the Gym remained dark as the camera swept through in exploration, an almost sinister air behind the darkness and the shadows that lurked around and beneath the rings and the workout equipment. The through an arched door frame we move through until we arrive at a short hallway, and a closed door; the entrance to not the office that the Stevens share for business purposes involving the Gym and its respective students, but to the larger room used as a lecture hall/classroom setting where students are lectured on the nuances of the business and are able to fine tune their promo skills in front of a camera.

There, beneath the closed door, a faint light could be seen. The camera moved forward and the door was opened, and seated at one of the classroom desks was none other than Fenris, the literal man of the hour. Gone were his workout clothes and now he was dressed in more comfortable attire, an open sleeved t-shirt bearing the emblem of the Icelandic football club, Stjarnan Iceland, blue jeans with the knees torn, and his bare feet clad in his favored flip flops. The moment the camera moved inside of the room, those ice blue, ice cold eyes meet it and Fenris promptly brought up a hand and pointed the other way. The camera pivoted and turned around to face the head of the classroom where Aron stood behind the desk that doubled as a lecture podium, clad in what appeared to be a white academic robe. Aron stepped up to the podium’s microphone and proceeded with his lecture.

“Yes, I know. This is probably the last thing that everyone was expecting, but as both brother and manager to Fenris, I thought we might start things off a little bit differently this time around. While we will get down to more direct business eventually, I want to take this brief moment to discuss the theory of nature versus nurture. And before anyone questions the logic behind this path that Fenris and I are taking, trust me that there is a method to my madness.”

“There had BETTER be!”

“*ahem* Yes. Now as the college graduate, I opted to step in here for this lecture to help educate Fenris in relation to the claims from his opponent Brayden Hilton that everything he does, every success that he has experienced in life, is predisposed in his favor due to his being the son of Crystal Zdunich. In psychology, the theory of ‘nature versus nurture’ refers to how ‘nature,’ or biological and genetic predispositions' impact on average human traits, and ‘nurture’ describes the influence of learning and other influences from one's environment. In other words, if one has a parent that is highly skilled in athletics, does that mean that his or her traits pass down to their offspring? Do the children of a business person with a vastly high IQ automatically have a leg up, so to speak, against their peers? What one might refer to as some form of biological advantage?”

“The simple fact is that there is no real, clear cut answer. There have been studies going on toward these theories for decades, and the one tried and true answer is genetics do not inherently get passed down as far as physical and emotional traits are concerned. Some experts say there is conclusive proof that nature always wins out over nurture, but if this is the case, then explain how a parent with a higher than average IQ might have a son or daughter with an IQ that does not quite match up to that of his or her parents? Explain how a pro sport legend might have a child that not only doesn’t follow in their parents’ footsteps, but can not. Not because they won’t, but because they simply do not share their talents or physical prowess towards that chosen field.”

“Now, it’s a given fact that children do inherit physical traits from their parents; eye color. Height, genetic diseases, skin color - even life expectancy all influenced by strong, biological influences. But where nurture is concerned, look at such sensitive topics as say - racism. A trait that a parent might have but not the child, added from the old saying that racism is taught, not inherited. Physical and domestic violence? If a man abuses his wife, can he say that he was predisposed to do so because he stood back and watched his father do the same to his mother?”

Aron shook his head.

“Just because your parents are a success in a chosen field, there is no evidence to support your claims that you are great because your parents are.”

Fenris stood up and approached the podium en route to taking his leave from the Gym’s classroom. He said, “In other words, it's bullshit!”

Aron nodded, despite himself as Fenris grasped the door and pulled it open to take his leave. The camera followed him out, but he did not exit the Gym entirely. He simply moved to more comfortable and familiar surroundings in the central gym floor itself.

“Well! That was fun! That was informative!”

He frowned as he shook his head, the lights remaining dim, casting him in just enough illumination to be seen.

“And now, just like Brayden and everything that little turd spews from that mouth, I’m a liar too. I hope nobody fell asleep during that last bit, but Aron decided that since Brittany enjoys playing a factor in her brother’s wins, he would enjoy just as much playing an indirect role in his own brother’s win. Just, unlike Brittany, not a hands-on role because he knows his brother is physically and mentally able to hold his own without having to rely on anyone for help. Brayden Williams; son of SCW’s iconic Crystal Zdunich. Son of Todd Williams, whose name I’m barely familiar with. Both names he uses to justify his actions and predict his own success story as it happens, as well as before. He’s like one of those snotty little rich kids you hear about who expect to coast through life because their parents are a success, so they don’t have to be. Their parents have money and power and influence, so obviously they don’t have to put in any effort of their own. They plan to simply glide through life, based on the successes of someone else.”

“That is Brayden Hilton, through and through. Though to be fair, to play the role of devil’s advocate, if I were Brayden and I were bragging? I would really only acknowledge the success of one parent; Crystal Zdunich. Because despite all the hatred directed towards her, for everything she’s done to her peers and the way she turns her back on the fans at the drop of a hat, the simple fact is; she wins. A record setting five-time World Champion? Roulette Champion? Internet Champion? Blast From the Past Champion. Hall of Fame in 2018. Face facts; love the woman or hate her, you can’t deny that when she steps inside of the ring, she wins. Oh and, unlike her son, she wins without help. Has she cheated? Yes. But she did so on her own. Has she relied on someone else getting involved in her matches because deep down, she wasn’t cut out for the business and she had to rely on short cuts?”

He pondered briefly in thought before he shook his head.

“I can’t say I can remember a time when she did, but we’d have to ask Mercedes Vargas to confirm or deny the fact. And Todd Williams…?”

Fenris mockingly cupped a hand to his ear and leaned in to listen, but after a moment’s pause, he shrugged in indifference and gave up.

“That’s what I thought. The only thing I ever hear about the man is in passing, usually from Crystal and Brayden who call him a wrestling great but fuck’s sake! I’ve never heard of the man! I know he even signed briefly to SCW but the moment he found out he was just a small fish in a big pond, he was gone before he could prove to the world he wasn’t as great as his family would lead you to believe. He had one or two matches and then before you know it…”

He let out a whistle and jetted a thumb back over his shoulder.

“Guy flew the coop! Before he could make any impact, before he could show anyone what he was or was not capable of doing. Most I heard he ever accomplished was terrorizing a few women, which speaks volumes about his character as a man, doesn’t it? And yet this is the same man that young Brayden Hilton proudly calls his father, the man he will follow in the…” **air quotes** “.. Successful footsteps of.”

He stared straight into the camera and a shake of the head was all the reaction we needed to read how Fenris truly felt about the man. His face remained impassive but the eyes, the eyes told the entire story.

“Explains a lot, doesn’t it? In the real world, in this business as in life, you have to give and take. But for Brayden, all he cares about is the taking. All that is important to him is what someone can do for him, not what he can do for someone else. Why else do you think the fucking idiot would sneak his PREGNANT WIFE on board of a cruise vessel!?”

Fenris snorted back a derisive laugh, a smile on his face but one that practically screamed sarcasm.

“Did you think because it was not aired ‘on camera,’ that word wouldn’t have spread that there was a birth on board in the middle of the fucking ocean!? And whose it was! I may not be book smart or match your so-called GPA or IQ, but even I’m smart enough to know you don’t take pregnant women on cruises or flights! And because you felt like showing off and treating that woman like some sort of trophy, maybe to make you look good or better than what you do (or think you do), she paid the price for it! Your child paid the price by having a selfish shit like you as its father! For his or her sake, I hope that Aron’s beliefs in nurture over nature are true! Otherwise all one has to do is look at you to see that child’s future and feel sorry for them!”

Folding his arms over his chest, Fenris turned his back away from the camera and moved across the gym floor, taking care not to trip or stumble in the dim lighting, but he was familiar enough from his time there that he arrived at the ringside without trial nor error. He turned back and leaned lightly against the ring post, his arms remaining folded but his face seemed almost impassive, as if he were without a care.

“You know, when Aron came to me with the updated card and told me who I was up against this week, I have to admit that like Brayden, I was at first wondering what the fuck the bookers were smoking. Here I am, a former World Heavyweight Champion with one of the best win-loss records in the history of SCW, and am I booked against Mac Bane for the title, or even a non-title match?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Am I up against an up and comer like Miles Kasey or experienced men who have proven their worth time and again like Alex Jones or Bill Barnhart?”

Again, he shook his head in the negative to answer his own question.

“No. Instead, they book me against a whiny, bratty little bitch who doesn’t know his asshole from a turnbuckle pad! A punk ass little bastard who just waltzed in here and expected everybody to bow down and kiss his ass and call it ice cream! But then after a while, it hit me. I actually started to understand why Mark Ward would take time away from pushing me onto bigger and better things and instead, put me up against someone like you, Brayden. It’s not because of something I did. It’s not to punish me.”

He shook his head and this time a cold smile crept on his face as he directed a finger toward the camera and tapped the lens.

“It’s because of you. It’s to punish - you. And it all started with that first tweet of Brittany’s after our match was made official, but boy? You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you? Guys like you never can. You disrespected a man like Mark Ward, and now he’s siccing the SCW’s resident attack dog on you, and I am going to chew you up and spit you out until there isn’t enough left of you to fill a can of fucking Alpo!”

Holding up one hand, he counts off on three fingers while smiling.

“Academic. Athletic. Achiever. That right there, Brayden? That’s your credo or at least what you try to shove down everyone’s throats as to what you live by?”

He choked back a laugh.

“You are so full of shit! I can’t speak for academics, even though I wouldn’t be surprised if Mommy and Daddy helped you in that regard too. But as far as athletics? As far as an achiever goes? Who the fuck do you think you’re fooling other than yourself!? Anybody and everybody who has watched your matches against Goth and Shane Borderland! You would have lost BOTH of those matches were it not for one, simple factor; Brittany. She interfered. She saved your ass more than once, and being the pathetic little bitch of a man that you truly are? You’re actually proud of the fact! You actually smile and nod when someone tells you that you only win because you chest and your sister gets involved in your matches! And I - I don’t get it. I honest to gods do not understand how a man, ANY MAN, can be proud of winning when he didn’t do it on his own! For you, winning is both everything and the only thing that matters. You don’t give a shit how it’s done, so long as it IS done! You want to bring back the good standing of the names you follow but all that shit you stir, all you’re doing is sullying it more and more with each passing match. And I get it, really I do. Ever since you first showed up, all you’ve done is brag about yourself and how great you are and how perfect and awesome Brayden Hilton is and how we are all lucky to be sharing SCW with you!”

He added the last, his eyes looking toward the ceiling with arms raised in the air as if in sheer gratitude. Until, that is, he lowered his arms and his true expression fell to the camera.

“Bitches like you coast through life, saying whatever the fuck you want in the belief that nobody would dare say anything back. You think you can do or say whatever pleases you about whoever has displeased you at any given time, without your nose ever getting bloodied in retaliation. Well SURPRISE, little boy! Reality is upon you and it’s about to hit you right in the face, bloodying that nose, bloodying those lips, sending those teeth back to Detroit before you ever manage to drag your scrawny ass from out of the ring! And do you know what is both the saddest and best part of the whole thing? There’s nothing you or anybody else can do to stop it! Not the referee, not your mommy, not even your sister who is a lot more dangerous than you could ever hope to be! You have proven against Goth and Shane that you are fucking NOTHING without someone there to bail you out of trouble, and I am saying this right now and I am directing it at YOU, Brittany…!”

He looked directly at the camera, as if he were looking into the eyes of Brayden’s twin and Crystal’s daughter.

“If you want to know what’s best for you, keep your god damn nose OUT of this match! Don't try to distract the referee! Do not put your brother’s foot on the ropes to save him or pull him out of the ring and from harm’s way! And god help you, do NOT even think to consider putting your hands on me in any way, shape or form because that will be your own swan song!”

He turned his head to the side, facing another camera.

“You, Brayden.  YOU are the reason this is happening. YOU are the reason that I was planning to take this match lightly but after the shit that you and your sister have said and the trash that you’ve talked? I am taking this a LOT more seriously, and Brayden?”

His smile widened as he leaned in closer toward the camera.

“I am going to enjoy every fucking minute inside of that ring with you. Mark Ward is going to be back in his office or watching from home, kicking back with a smile. Candy, our interim boss, she might be cringing but in the long run? I think she’ll be thanking me. Because I know the SCW Universe will. I know the locker room will throw a god damned party when they watch me snap your fingers and you howl like the little cry baby that you are! The fans are going to raise the roof, watching that buggy whip arm of yours get stomped on, and your cries are going to be music to the world’s ears. I can not recall the last time that something I did in the ring was repaid with thanks or genuine appreciation, but then again? I’ve never been in the ring with a pussy like you before. So I guess you might say… you are about to bring out the best in me, Brayden. And the best of me, is the worst possible thing for you! Two men, Brayden.”

He held up two fingers because he probably thought a punk like Brayden would have to get naked just to be able to count to twenty one.

“Two men since I’ve debuted have been able to beat me; Austin James Mercer, and Ben Jordan.”

He shook his head.

“You are not going to be the third. You just do not have the stones for it.

“You want to go around and brag about how you’re a third generation Superstar and the next big thing? Go ahead! Prove it to everyone else but most of all, prove it to ME! But everybody who has tuned in and watched you in the ring knows the truth; you are the elite. You are not awesome or whatever else adjective you want to look up in order to better describe yourself! not a second or even a third generation sensation. All you are is a pathetic little self regurgitated sperm burp! You weren’t born into this business, destined for greatness. You were fucking squeezed out of a cum rag!”

He stood up from against the ring post and held his arms out wide and smiled even wider.

“And I don’t think that I’ve ever had as much fun as I’m about to have on Sunday! And I owe it all to you so in thanks … drop me a line and let me know who to send the condolence card to.”

That being the final word on the matter, Fenris turned his back to the camera and walked toward the open door to take his leave. Stepping through and into the night air, the door shut behind him with a loud clang, enveloping the gym in darkness once again.

Turnberry Towers

Okay, come on. Do we really have to explain things? Ever since his debut in 2018, this was the primary setting for anything and everything related to the SCW Superstar known as the “White Wolf” aka Fenris. If he and his brother Aron were not at the GO Gym, it was simple enough to know where to find them. Kristjan Baltasarsson - Fenris - was what some might call a homebody, a hermit if you will, he had his set routine and his preferences. He rarely went to the movies. He preferred an old fashioned pub to a modern nightclub when he had the rare desire to go out for a drink. The closest he might come was visiting the Golden Ring Casino as a regular.

But now here we were; at the lowest level of where the brothers Baltasarsson called home in the parking garage. The blistering heat of the day was slowly subsiding as dusk had begun to fall. Save for the usual morning run, a workout at the Gym and relaxing in the Towers’ pool, the siblings had remained inside to avoid the worst part of the day’s heat, save for one task that Fenris had set for himself. Something that he had been planning for the past few weeks, and with an assist from his friend and trainer Gabriel Stevens, it had now been taken care of. Fenris had just asked if it could be taken care of either early in the day, or later in the afternoon/evening to better stay out of the temperatures that were reaching in an excess of over 110.

The sound of the garage were all around, but two vehicles took center stage of this scenario as a brand new white Spyder Porsche 718 pulled around the curve to enter the garage, followed closely by a more familiar white Mazda MX, the car Fenris had called his own since he first purchased it three years previous. The Mazda followed the Porsche until the Spyder pulled into a vacant spot, and the Mazda in the space right beside it. Once settled and the engine shut off, the drivers’ side doors of both vehicles opened and from out of the Porsche emerged Fenris, and from the Mazda, Aron.

Turning on both lock and alarm, Aron walked around to where his brother stood, admiring his brand new ride. A look of triumphant pride was like a mask to the older of the two, as he had both heart and mind set on this car for nigh on a year before he was able to secure the deal with Gabriel’s aid. Both brothers took a moment to admire the sleek quality of Fenris’s new ride, when Aron decided  dose of reality might be in order when he spoke, “You know Mrs. Hyde is going to throw a fit over using this parking space, right?”

Fenris tore his gaze from his new “baby” and gave Aron a quizzical frown as he said, “Who the hell cares? They’re MY parking spaces!”

Aron said, “I know you got two reserved for the condo when you bought the place but she’s been using your second one for two years now.”

“Without even bothering to ask.” Fenris pointed out. It was just a lucky coincidence that the older British woman had been out this day, otherwise a battle would have erupted over something so trivial. Fenris would have been in the right, but when dealing with an older woman who was used to getting her own way, and Fenris who was just stubborn and crass, it would have been the social equivalent to World War Three. Aron watched as his brother gazed over his new car, a look of delight shining in his eyes. Kristjan never had much use for amassing much in the form of material possessions. He had a comfortable home and that was all he needed or desired. But this...

“She’s a fucking beauty, isn’t she?” Kristjan asked, to which Aron had little alternative but to nod in agreement; both brothers having a distinct appreciation for cars of quality.

“Now all you have to do is sell the old one.” Aron offered. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t trade it in.”

Fenris shook his head and with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders, answered, “Would have been a waste to do either.”

“Why…?” Aron started to ask as he made to hand the keys to the Mazda over to his brother, only for Kristjan to brush the offering aside, saying, “Because it’s yours now.”

“Mine?” Aron repeated, unsure if he had heard correctly. “You-you’re giving me the Mazda?” The only answer he received was his brother’s silent shrug of the shoulders. True, the car was used, but Kristjan took such care of it that it was like new and low on mileage. Aron smiled. It was true that Fenris was an asshole of the highest order - but he was also one of the most generous people that he knew. He had money, and he was often found spending it more on others rather than himself.

“Besides, you need a car and this way I don’t have to chauffeur you everywhere!” Fenris said. Ah! There he was! That was his brother.

“Thank you K-” Aron started to say, but Fenris cringed and held up a hand, “Please… don’t make a big deal out of it.”

---

Friday

“It was a lovely gesture, giving your old car to Aron for his own.” His mother Eva said from her end of the video chat session. Fenris sat on the patio of the condo, a drink in one hand and the laptop set up on the glass end table in front of him. Being so far away from their family was difficult on both brothers, but it was a necessary evil when involved in such a business as they were. That was why Eva and her husband Benedikt insisted on regular calls, both video and otherwise, so they could see their boys. Aron was only too happy to do so. Fenris acted put off, but everyone knew it to be an act. These calls were as important to him as anyone.

“He told you?”

“Honey, you gave him a car valued at almost 3695400 krona.” Eva smiled. “Word sort of spread.”

“I bet Elin and Viktoria just loved that.” Fenris murmured, then spoke aloud. “If they expect me to buy them a car next…”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous!” Eva countered with a mother’s fierce loyalty from one child to the next. “Besides, with the economy here opening back up, both have started looking for work.”

A skeptical Kristjan snorted in mock disbelief, but Eva was adamant. “It’s true! They’ve even been talking about moving out once they do and renting a place together!” But as she went on to pass along the random bit of family gossip, something else had attracted the attention of her son...

It was something just off-camera on his mother’s side that attracted Fenris’s curiosity; no. More so concern than curiosity. While his mother continued to talk to him, his eyes shifted as subtly as was remotely possible to behind her where he was seeing his baby sister, the darling of their family, walk step inside of the kitchen to pour for herself a cup of tea, His head cocked to the side, almost in a comedic imitation of his beloved Kyssa, watching as Freyja opened the cupboard doors to retrieve a box of her favorite rhubarb cookies to go with her morning snack.

“Kristjan, honey?” Eva’s call to him distracted him from his curious trance and he turned to look at his mother. “Have you heard a word that I just said?” Leave it to this remarkable woman not to be fooled by his distraction. But she was the very one Kristjan inherited much of his own personality from; particularly his stubbornness.

“Mom?” He held up a hand to forestall anything she might say to distract or interrupt him. It worked (for now) as she blinked, but waited. His index finger was outstretched, pointing behind her.

“Why is Freyja behind you? In the house? In Iceland?” His questions were quick and grew more agitated as his adorable Freyja caught notice of who her mother was talking to. She smiled and waved and went about her way, exiting the room while Kristjan’s blue eyes followed her briefly, before returning to those of Eva who seemed almost apologetic.

He reiterated, “You know, the sister I’m supposed to be picking up at the airport in an hour!?”

“Well, honey, we were hoping to surprise you.” Eva started to explain as her son’s critical, narrow-eyed gaze bore down on her. “Freyja got that job she had been wanting; that internship at Grillmarkaðurinn?” Grillmarkaðurinn, a high end and exclusive restaurant in their home city of Reykjavik, and one in which their little one had been attempting to secure an internship at since before the pandemic had first manifested. It was a highly coveted position and to think that HIS Freyja had successfully -- no. As proud as he was of her, he was concerned and feeling justifiably selfish at the moment.

“That’s great Mom, I’m really proud of her.” Kristjan confirmed, giving his mother a reason to beam. He then added, “But WHO is going to watch Kyssa the week I’m on that ship!? I mean, were you going to tell me or wait until I got to the airport and nobody showed up before doing so!?”

“Kristjan…”

“What am I going to do!? I can’t go back and ask Gabriel! He offered but I wanted someone there that she’d be more familiar with and spend the entire week with her, here!”

“Kristjan!” Eva said in a commanding tone that immediately quenched the fire in her boy. One of the very few, if any, who had that unique ability. She held her hands up and in a calm manner, explained, “Don’t worry! Did you really think we would leave you hanging when you were depending on us? We have it all arranged! Someone will be there for Kyssa that she’s familiar with.”

Fenris stared at the screen for a brief moment, bathing in the uncomfortable fit of silence between mother and son. His mother had neglected, or avoided, telling him this bit of news until the very last moment so why…. His eyes narrowed as he asked, “...Who?”

---

McCarran International Airport

The flight from Icelandic Airlines' imminent arrival had been announced, and Fenris stood by with  tense apprehension near the baggage claim. While many others around him were standing with their backs turned to the luggage carousels to greet the arrivals that would be descending the stairwell and escalators from the second floor, Fenris instead remained seated, facing the gate where international travelers would arrive by, having to go through customs check upon arrival. Despite his apprehension at what his mother had told him, dropping a proverbial bomb on both him as well as Aron, Fenris arrived at the airport early and took a seat at the very forefront so he would be directly in line of sight for any walking through that gateway.

And there she was, walking through the customs gate having her papers checked by the official. His oldest sister, Viktoria.


His antagonistic sister. The one who, alongside his middle sister Elin, he described as being the biggest bitch on the planet. To which she most likely has aptly described him in similar but various glowing terms. For as long as he could remember, ever since he was a small child oh, his oldest sister had made his life a living misery. He could not remember a time where the two were not at each other's throats, fighting like cats and dogs between them with Elin taking her side and Aron and Freyja taking his. It had become such a regular occurrence throughout the years that the fighting had immunized the family to the point they barely paid it any heed. Even if company was present. But in recent years, two to be specific, things had taken on a less hostile quality between them. It took Fenris discovering his sister had fallen victim to domestic violence and Viktoria supporting the tragic way her brother had been forced out of the closet exposed to the public against his will for either to acknowledge that the other cared even remotely. It was unlikely that they would ever grow to be the closest of friends between them like their mother had so hoped, but at least it was a foregone conclusion that they did not hate each other outright. They cared - a little bit. But it still did not do well for Fenris to rely on his materialistic oldest sister to “house sit” while caring for his four-legged baby girl.

“Well, don’t you look pleasant?” Viktoria said with a smirk, one that those closest to him would swear was a mirror image to his own cocky swagger. He stood up the moment she passed the gate and now the two stood with an uncomfortable barrier between them. Viktoria looked him over with an infuriating gaze before she said, “Mom didn’t tell you it was me coming, did she?” Said more as a statement, not a question.

“Of course she did.” Kristjan said as he turned and escorted her toward the luggage carousel to retrieve her luggage, and if he knew his sister, there would be a LOT. Even if it were just for the week. He then added, “An hour ago.”

“Mom probably figured had she given you warning, you and Aron would have moved.”

Kristjan just scoffed and he watched as his sister reached and started grabbing at some luggage as it woke its way around, before he too lent a hand. “Unlikely. With Freyja getting that job, I’m in a bind.”

Finishing with the luggage, Viktoria set a hand on her hip and smiled. “I believe the words you are looking for is ‘thank you.’”

He paused from grabbing at her bags and stood upright, and said, “Don’t push it. You’re getting a week long, all expenses paid vacation to Las Vegas. I think it’s you who should be thanking me.” Yet she only rolled her eyes in response as she took one bag, taking note how Kristjan had already grabbed hold of most of the others. Brotherly duty and all that bother.

…

And as the Porsche wove its way along the Interstate, between the airport and where his sister would call home for the next seven plus days, there was a silence between them. Not a sound, not even the radio until Viktoria took it upon herself to act the cardinal sin of turning it on without Kristjan’s leave. Messing with a man’s radio channels? What WAS the woman thinking??

“So … why you?”

Viktoria heard his question, but wasn’t quite certain the why behind it. She turned her head from the passenger seat to address him with a critical brow. “Excuse me?”

“It could have been Elin.” Fenris shrugged. “Mom might have even made the trip as she only works part-time now. So …” He turned his head briefly to meet her eyes, to which she averted his own hard stare to focus on the view passing them by. “Why was it decided you got to take this trip to America?”

No answer came, which sent alarm bells ringing in Kristjan’s head. He stole a couple glances back and forth between the road ahead and his sister beside him until he prodded her a bit. “Viktoria?”

After what seemed like forever, she finally yielded with an answer, “Einar got out. He tried to contact me.”

Einar Halldórsson - the young man who had taken a hand to his sister. The young man who never knew just how close he had come to finding out just how protective of his family Kristjan could be. Were it not for the timely intervention of Gabriel and Osbourne, Kristjan would have flown to Iceland and done something that would have landed himself in prison. Yet for once, cooler (and wiser) heads prevailed and they allowed the proper authorities to take care of everything. Einar had been arrested and jailed, and a critical part of his release negotiations was that he adhere to a restraining order against Viktoria. A negotiation that he apparently felt was beneath him.

Viktoria watched him for a reaction, and her eyes fell to his hands on the steering wheel, seeing them tighten into no less than a white knuckled grip. He muttered, “Mother fu-”

“Don’t.” Viktoria spoke quickly. “The minute I showed the text to Dad, he called the police and Einar was arrested again for violating the restraining order. He tried to say that his phone was hacked or some bullshit, but they traced it to him.”

But it was of little comfort to an older brother who has an overprotective streak in him, even when it concerned his ‘hated’ older sister. Especially when it concerned his family. “I thought I told you to call me if he ever, EVER, contacted you again?”

She simply shrugged and said, “I decided not to.”

“Why!”

“Because you would have went to prison!” She exclaimed. “And as much as you want to protect me from something you can’t control…” But she did not finish her statement. She did not need to. He would have gone to prison to protect her, so she did what little she could to protect him. The two exchanged a quick look to each others’ eyes before he looked back to the road, and she the passing scenery.

It was enough.

Saturday

It had been decided (by Kristjan) that the brothers would drive them via Aron’s “new” car to Los Angeles rather than fly. It wasn’t as if Kristjan was going to let those added miles be added to his brand new baby. Kristjan was putting the finishing touches on some papers as Aron worked on bringing the remaining luggage to the front door for their week-long working holiday aboard the Sun Princess. Viktoria approached, hands stuffed in her jean short pockets while Kyssa followed, wagging her tail in uncharacteristic behavior toward their sister, someone Kyssa normally acted indifferent toward.

“You two are so lucky!” Viktoria all but pouted, seemingly falling back into her ‘spoiled princess’ role of eldest sister. “I wish I was going on a cruise!”

Kristjan looked up as he slipped something inside of an envelope and walked over, saying, “Oh boo hoo! You get to spend a week in Vegas and not pay for a goddamn thing! How cruelly the world mistreats Viktoria!”

She just sneered at him, a facial expression he was only too glad to reciprocate before...

“Here.” Kristjan turned and extended an envelope to his sister, to which she took it hesitantly in hand and eyed it somewhat suspiciously and asked, “What is it?” She opened it and took out a prepaid Visa card.

“Expenses.” Kristjan said. “Cab rides to the Strip. Any places there you want to go - NO gambling! - Food … whatever! I loaded it up to where you should be set for the next week and beyond.”

She looked from the card to him, almost in wonder that he had made such a generous offer -- for her, of all people. Kristjan then kneeled down and embraced his much loved Kyssa and ruffled her fur, allowing his girl to give him her farewell doggy kisses. He then stood up and said quietly, “When you go on your morning runs, take her for the exercise .Otherwise, the place is yours for the week.”

Before even he realized what he was doing, Kristjan surprised his older sister by stepping in and wrapping his arms around her. He whispered into her ear, “Gabriel said he’d check in in case you needed anything, but if you need me, text.”

He stepped back and found her with an uncharacteristic smile on her face. After a quick hug from Aron, the two brothers took their leave and the door shut behind them. Viktoria looked down at the card in hand, then at Kyssa and she smiled impishly.

---

Los Angeles, California

Fenris stood on the front deck of the Port of LA, and before him was none other than the Sun Princess; the luxury cruise liner that would soon be bringing the SCW Universe as well as their guests on seven days of fun in the sun, culminating in the Summer XXXTreme IX Supercard event where Fenris himself would be teamed against his will with Brother David Shepherd against the formidable combination of Senor Vinnie and “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart.

“Okay, before we get to the heart of this matter, that being the two men that will be standing on the opposite side of the ring, I want to make something perfectly clear. I want to address my tag team ‘partner’ for this match, David Shepherd, and bring an understanding between him and I. Now a few days back after this match was announced and made official, I told David to just follow my lead, and everything would work out in our favor. And I was not saying this easily because Vinnie and Bulldog?”

He shook his head.

“Not easy opponents, despite what David might boast. And David’s response? He gets all butt hurt and tells me to ‘go suck an egg.’ Bitch, I barely know what the fuck that even means! ‘Go suck an egg?’ What are you, five years old? You're still in grade school!? Why not complete the picture and tell me to go straight to H-E-Double hockey sticks while you’re at it!? David seems to think his rate of success - or lack there of - puts us on equal ground where our opponents are concerned. Well - not quite. While you may have beaten Bulldog, and you went the distance with Vinnie, I beat the both of them on separate occasions - and -- I beat you. I am the only one out of the four of us that can honestly say that I’ve beaten each participant in this match. So David, I think I know what I am talking about when I say shut up, follow my lead and just do what I say if you want to walk away the winners of this match!”

“Vinnie … Bulldog… I make no pretense of my feelings toward tag team matches. I have all the respect in the world for people who have stepped up in that division and made it their own; Gabriel and Despayre and London Underground, just to name a few. But I’ve said time and again that it just is not for me. Unfortunately, as used as I am to getting my own way, in this business, nothing is guaranteed. I’ve found myself in a number of tag team matches over the last three years, Shit! My debut was in the Blast From the Past Mixed Tag TEAM event, and you know what? Courtney Pierce and I won the whole damn thing! I can probably count on one hand the number of times the bosses ignored my wishes and booked me in a tag team match. Couple of times with Ty West as my partner. Going up against teams like Wolfslair and beyond. Teaming with my own brother against (ironically enough) David and Daddy Dearest! And only two of those times did I not lead my team to victory. Every other time? Well…?”

He smiled and held his arms out, eyes hidden behind a pair of shades.

“But here we are, and you know? I don’t really feel like losing the track record that I’ve grown accustomed to, whether I’m in singles or caught in a team situation. You set a goal, you accomplish it. But I have to go and admit that this is one time where I find myself at a disadvantage. The two of you have known one another for years. The two of you are the closest of friends. Whereas I am teamed with a total and complete dickhead! The two of you can put your faith and your trust in the other! Me?”

He poked a finger into his chest and shook his head.

“I don’t have that same luxury! I am with a partner who is just as likely to stab me in the back and leave me hanging alone in that ring with the two of you! The only form of trust I have in David is the fact he has something to prove. Whether it be to himself or his family, he does not want to lose - to either of you! Which puts my side on something of a slippery slope where trust is concerned. So whether my own partner likes it or not, I’m taking charge! And that can only be bad news for the two of you!”

“Vinnie, when you first arrived in SCW, I swear to god I thought you were some sort of cosmic joke! I mean, your best friend and manager was a god damn cactus for fuck’s sake! At the time, I thought your only saving grace was the fact that somehow, some way, Ty’s aunt Lora adored you! But there was something else, something more - primal. You and I have fought more times than I can remember, and you took me to the absolute limit each and every time! When others were bitching about you and disrespecting you, I was asking for another match because the thing I want most in this business is the competition! What the hell is the point of even being here if you’re only in it for the cheap and easy wins!? Whether it was for the World title or not, you gave me what I wanted - what I needed - every damn time we stepped into the ring against one another! You’re a big man, probably the best big man we have going right now. But I’ve been up against you,and men even bigger like Casey Williams. I’ve proven that size is the least thing that matters when inside of that ring. It’s like the old saying goes; ‘Take the bigger man down and his size doesn’t matter.’ Good theory, but unlike the majority out there, I can take a bigger man down. But unlike the rest, I can keep you down. I can make damn sure you don’t get back up again.”

“Bulldog, I have to admit that when you won the mixed tag titles, I was one of the first that wanted to buy you a beer to celebrate. You deserved that win, you deserved that championship, and I’d guess sooner or later, you’ll be wearing gold around that \thick waist of yours again. But for all your bravado and reputation, you have this almost two-faced sense of respect that you pay your opponents. Oftentimes I hear you say on social media or the like how you respect this opponent or that rival, but when it comes time for your promos or interviews, you completely flip the switch. Talk about how you’re going to kick their asses like they’re nothing, or you or Bea will insinuate how your opponents will need some sort of outside interference or cheating in order to overcome you, even if that opponent never had any track record of outright cheating. I should know! You and Beatrice made that very insinuation against me once! It’s almost as if you are looking for some built in excuse for an inevitable loss. Which doesn’t make a goddamn bit of sense because you don’t need excuses! You need results! You are a fucking hardcore bad ass that I respect and acknowledge, and if I can pay you that respect, then why in hell can’t you give it to yourself!? Deep down, you have confidence issues. You need to work on that. But not this time, not for this match. Later, for afterwards.”

“This end result?”

He shrugged.

“It’s inevitable.”

He walked off screen.