There are times when we must look back into our lives, back into times where we experience a little something called life, in order to be able to move ahead. Life experiences, be they painful or pleasant, are what we need in order to successfully evolve as a person, be it alone or when we are with someone. Some call these times ‘reflections,’ others call them ‘flashbacks,’ particularly in a little something called storytelling. Here, we go by the latter because much has happened since SCW went on their extended holiday hiatus. Between then and now. To simply do what others have done and skip ahead without telling a tale, one ignores life and leaves a wide open vacancy in not just one life, but in this particular case - the lives of several.
Las Vegas - December 20Mid-morning. Just past the hour of 8 AM.The sky above the famed “City of Sin” was overcast in a cloudy gray, dank and dreary and threatening to spill over with rainfall, according to the weather forecast. The sun was attempting to peek out from behind the clouds that had kept it hidden ever since the night had given rise to the dawn, but thus far had been unsuccessful and remained hidden from those below that wished it be released from its heavenly confinement. After all, those within the infamous city in the desert, both local and tourist alike, most wished for the sunny skies to make the most of their upcoming holiday and vacation alike. Thus far, they had been vastly disappointed as there had been light rain and even a few threats of wet sleet in such an unusual cold snap for a desert. To hear some visitors, one would think it was a conspiracy of the locals to ruin their prized vacations, all but ignoring that the locals wanted nice weather as much as they.
Not so much a certain man who called Las Vegas his home away from home, namely Kristjan Baltasarsson. Kristjan had little preference in the weather locally, and although he himself would have preferred a sunny day over such a dismal gray overcast, he did not see a point to bitch about it. His true preference lay where he would soon be returning in just over twenty-four hours; his homeland of Reykjavik. There, he knew from past experiences and, of course, speaking with his family members back home, that not only was it cold, but it had also been gloriously wet with both rain as well as the usual hearty snowfall. There, one rarely had to wish for a white Christmas.
For now, this disheartening weather did nothing to detract him from his usual morning routines. Simply put, Kristjan was a creature of habit and he allowed nothing to cause him to stray from his usual routines. Not even when it came time to awaken his brother and drag him (sometimes by force) to the park for their morning run along with his canine companion, the beloved Kyssa. Be it rain, sleet or wind - injury, hangover or illness, Kristjan did not stray and he credited this time of fanatic dedication as to why he remained the best at what he did. Having just returned home and following a scalding hot shower, Kristjan emerged from the kitchen of his and Aron’s luxurious condo, glass of orange juice in hand, and walked over toward the open-air patio high above the city street and slid it open, stepping outside. The weather did not faze him, despite the fact he was clad in a simple open-arm Tshirt and shorts; he WAS from Iceland after all. This chilled weather was to him like spring might have been to the average person. He took a seat on the cushioned patio chair and slid the laptop around on the glass patio table so that it faced him. Had he timed this right, he knew that she would have only just gotten off of work and would be receptive to his call. He knew her and her husband’s habits almost as well as his own family’s, because to him, they were as close as family could be. And mere moments later, his assumption was proven correct when the call was answered, and there was the smiling face of Elisabet Kai.
The mother of his beloved Jökull.
Even in her middle years, like his own mother, she remained a stunning and powerful Icelandic woman. Her wavy, blond curls spilled down onto her shoulders, framing a strong but lovely countenance. Her eyes, a shade of blue darker than his own. She was indeed lovely in appearance, but there was a strength that she bore, emanating from a hard life, the pain of losing her and her husband’s only child all those years ago.
“Right on time.” She teased playfully, her words spoken in their mutual native tongue of Icelandic, even though like him, she was fluent in English thanks in part to her marriage to her Korean-American husband, Han-Jae.
“As if there were any doubt.” Kristjan replied, catching himself as he had inadvertently responded in English rather than Icelandic, quickly correcting himself with a soft smile, which would surprise many who knew him, thinking him incapable of such a thing.
“Sorry.” He said, this time in their native tongue.
“I did ask you to talk to me today. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”Those words had a resounding effect on the previous light hearted mood and dampened it somewhat. Her smile remained but the soft twinkle in her eye faded. She cast a glance down, then looked up at him and she said,
“I understand, Kristjan.”“Understand – what?” He frowned, unsure of where this had come from, or where it was headed.
“That you’re unable to come visit this year.” She offered.
“I knew given the outbreak of this variant that it might stop you from coming…”But he quickly interjected, leaning forward in his chair.
“Do you think I would let this goddamn virus stop me from coming to see you!? I would have had Aron stuff me in a crate and ship me overnight to get there if that’s what it took!” He waited until he saw some semblance of relief on this woman’s face before he settled down and leaned back into his chair, reaching for his glass of OJ. And he had meant every word. Ever since Jökull’s death over ten years ago, not a single year had passed where Kristjan did not make this pilgrimage back to Iceland from wherever he was in the world, to both pay his respects to his first love, but to also be there for what had to be the toughest time in any parents’ life. After all, if there was one universal truth in existence, it was that no parent should ever outlive their child. From that first year, Kristjan was as close to a son as Elisabet and Han-Jae currently had. After their true son’s passing, they did not try for another. All the light they had as parents had tragically been extinguished.
He added,
”And my brother would probably have been all-too happy to do so, too!”“Well, I can’t lie and say that I’m not relieved.” Elisabet said with a soft smile that betrayed the very fact she would have been heart broken had he missed this year. She went on,
“So what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”And this was where the hurdle would come into play, how he would manage to breach a topic that could have positive or negative consequences where Jökull’s family was concerned. Not that they would have a right to be upset or angry, but given the sensitive nature of his visits and the reasons behind them, it was a potential powder keg of combustible human emotion.
“I’m … not coming alone this time.” He finally found his voice to inform her with the news, delicate as it was.
“Someone asked to come with me and…”“Is it the young man that you’ve been spending so much time with?” She asked, stunning him into silence. He blinked, having clearly been caught off guard until he gathered himself and he asked,
“You know about…?”“David?” Elisabet finished his thought for him, then nodded and gifted him with a soft smile. We say ‘gifted’ because it was both unexpected and truth be told, a great relief. Kristjan had no idea how Elisabet might react, knowing he had started dating someone. Truthfully, she and her husband could not have logically expected him to go without having someone - anyone - in his life after Jökull’s passing, but logic goes out the proverbial window when the death of an only child was involved.
“Of course I know.” She continued to ease the inner turmoil that he had been feeling deep inside but forcing back into the very depths of his soul.
“Han-Jae and I both do. We do watch your matches, you know. And we saw that little kiss between the two of you last year.”“Little kiss” being a gross and vast understatement. It was that ‘little kiss’ that ignited the flame between he and David Shepherd, fanning the impending romance into a virtual raging inferno. He felt a warmth begin in the nape of his neck, and could sense it spreading. He would hate for Aron to walk out there and see the flush of scarlet in his brother’s neck and cheeks. He’d never hear the end of it.
“Plus,” Elisabet continued.
“Your mother told me that you were seeing someone.”To this bit of news, Kristjan closed his eyes and felt the color of his slight embarrassment recede and be replaced by a slim sense of annoyance. He shook his head and opened his eyes, stating
“She had no right…”
“She had every right, sweetheart.” Elisabet interrupted him before he could lose any semblance of composure and say something, anything, that he might regret. She continued,
“She is your mother, after all. And you called me your ‘second mom’ a few times.”“I meant it.” And truthfully, he did mean it. His mom Eva was the number one woman in his life, but as the mother of his beloved Jökull, she was practically adopted by him as a second mother figure.
Elisabet said,
“Then you should be aware that your mother and I talk - frequently I might add. The subject of this David was bound to come up.”
“You’re not upset?” He asked, his brows knitted into a frown that betrayed his concern.
“Upset about what, exactly?” She smiled sadly.
“That you met someone that makes you happy? Kristjan, did you seriously expect that Han-Jae and I expected you to remain alone for the rest of your life out of loyalty to Jökull?”To this, he had no real answer. He found himself looking in every direction but where he should have had his attention focused solely on; her. All he could do to answer her sentimental question was to shrug his shoulders. He was not a man that was prone to bits of silence. He was the opposite, in fact, but he could not bring himself to admit that – yes. He had half expected Elisabet and her husband to expect that very thing.
Then she said the very thing, the very fear, that was at the heart of all of his insecurity over the given situation that he found himself in, both now as well a few years ago when he had been in another similar spot. She asked,
“Do you think Jökull would have wanted you to remain alone?”Kristjan looked away once again, but this time it was more because of a wounded sense of pride. There was not a single time when Jökull’s name was mentioned where he did not feel the imminent threat of losing control of his emotions. He had lost control of himself only two times before; once when discussing Jökull with Ben Jordan, and when he had finally confided in David about the very same. It was not something he was proud of, it was just the manner of man that he was. And he absolutely and steadfastly refused to shed a tear in front of Elisabet. Because he knew damn well if he lost himself in front of her, then she would do the same. And he had to admit one thing he was not good at was dealing with someone else’s loss of emotion. Something he would perhaps have to find a way around if he wanted to get very much further in life where a relationship was concerned.
All he could do was barely shake his head and utter a half audible,
“No.” Before he turned back to look at her through their video chat and admit a little louder,
“He would not.”“And neither do we.” She replied as calmly as possible, referencing both herself as well as speaking for her husband. Her eyes shimmered with glistening tears that threatened to spill over, but she fought to restrain them as she smiled, telling the man that was as good as a son,
“It tells us, and tells Jökull up in Heaven, that you’re moving on — finally.” That ‘finally’ hit like a knife wound to the gut, as he knew full well that Jökull’s memory was behind much of the emotional trauma that he had experienced in life. Would that trauma ever fade away into non-existence? Probably not, but the fact that he was moving on, as it were, was evidence enough that there was something about David Shepherd that at least made everything better. Enough so that he wanted Elisabet and Han-Jae to meet… wait. Did he…?
Elisabet asked, bringing him out of his self-imposed thoughts, asking him,
“Now, I do have to ask. Why is David coming with you? Not that we mind, but it is curious considering the hurdles he might have to go through coming here.”
“I’m not altogether sure.” Kristjan smirked, a soft scoff barely audible under his breath. He gave it a moment's thought, then considered,
“I think it’s mostly to support me. I told him about Jökull - and about you. I also think… he’s doing it partly for himself.”Elisabet frowned, not quite understanding what exactly that was supposed to mean. Sensing this, he shrugged and explained as gently as he could,
“He knows about Jökull. We had ‘that talk’ recently. I think… at least a part of him wants to come here to prove to himself he’s not fighting a ghost.”Kristjan winced openly, then quickly amended,
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Elisabet assured him.
“I know what you meant. So…” She picked up the phone on her end of the call and walked around the home she lived in for the last twenty years with her husband, before Jökull had ever been welcomed into this world. She sat on the tanned, plush sofa and Kristjan was startled to see that her husband Han-Jae was already sitting there. She set the tablet down carefully so that she and her husband could both see Kristjan, and he them.
She crossed her legs and took Han-Jae’s hand into her own and gave it a light squeeze before she said,
“So… tell us all about this David.”Han-Jae added with a slight frown to his smooth, Asian features,
“He’s not like that Ty West boy, is he?”
“No.” Kristjan couldn’t help but smile as he shook his head in the negative.
“They are as different as night and day. Ty was… I guess you might say a bandage on an old wound. David is… more.” He lifted his eyes and looked at them directly, adding,
“A lot more.”There was a shared look between the husband and wife on the other end of this call, and then they turned back to him. Han-Jae nodded, his face impassive, as Elisabet smiled once more, more genuine than before. She said,
“Well then! Tell us all about him.”
Reykjavík, Iceland - December 21Kristjan glanced over from his seat in First Class, on board the Icelandair flight from Las Vegas to his hometown of Reykjavík. Beside him, David Shepherd had fallen asleep the moment they had lifted off from their layover in Seattle, Washington and the rest of the flight would be non-stop. The weather, despite the time of year, was unseasonably smooth with little turbulence, allowing David, who had admittedly grown nervous about going to Reykjavík even though it had been his idea entirely to accompany his man. Whether it was because he would be meeting the parents of Jokull, or that he would be this close to Kristjan’s own family whom he was most definitely not ready to meet, that was the ultimate question. For now, the time change between the United States and Iceland had grown too much for David and sleep overtook him, leaving Kristjan to his own thoughts.
How could he describe this man sitting beside him? The fact alone that he wanted to come with him, to be there for him, that alone spoke more about David’s depth of character than any other words might. Even if David would try to hide the fact away.
Kristjan finally tore his eyes away from David’s sleeping form and looked out from his window seat to the skyline that the jet was now descending toward. Soon enough, the lights of Keflavik Airport, along with the rest of Reykjavík, would slowly come into view as the sun would be setting right about now. And the closer those lights came into view as the clouds broke apart and the cold rain started to pelt the jet, the tighter the knots in his own stomach twisted…
“Fuck’s sake!” David shuddered as the two men had stepped outside of the airport with their luggage being trailed behind them, en route to the taxi that was awaiting them in the receiving bay of the airport. David had worn a tanned jacket lined with wool, taking his boyfriend’s advice that he might want to dress more warmly than he was perhaps accustomed to. David had indeed taken heed to Kristjan’s warning, because the fact was he had never before been to Iceland, but as Ben Jordan himself discovered; it earned its name for a reason.
“What are you complaining about?” Kristjan jeered, teasingly so, as they walked along the pavement outside of the doors, Kristjan already spotting the cab that he had called ahead to reserve for the two of them. The driver waited, his eyes glued to the newspaper held out in front of him. Kristjan went on, claiming, “It’s not that bad.”
“Easy for you to say!” David exclaimed, wishing he had considered taking his boyfriend’s warning seriously enough to pack some gloves but no. How bad could it be, really? He had thought to himself and was now kicking himself for not having done so. David hefted his luggage behind him with one arm while huddling his other closer to his upper body to try to at least stay off the bitter chill somewhat better. He added, “It’s colder than Santa Claus’ butt plug!” Causing a snort of subdued laughter to come from the man walking beside him.
David added, “You’d think it’d be warmer in what’s basically a god damned giant volcano!”
“Oh bitch, bitch, bitch!” Kristjan scoffed. “That’s all you ever are!”
“Hey!” David called sharply, using his free hand to slap his man hard on the ass, unsure which one of them enjoyed such an action more.
Getting through international customs, especially for David, was a trying spot. They both had to show their Covid test cards as well as take an additional test right there and then as they were coming from not just the United States, but an area of the country whose numbers were rising rapidly. After showing their cards, proof of vaccination and their tests returning negative, both Kristjan and David went on their way.
And now here they were, riding in the back seat of the taxi as they were being driven from the airport. As this was David’s first time in this country, he was seeing firsthand why in Iceland, Christmas, or Yule, was such a major holiday. It would seem that they took this special day of days even more seriously here than they did back in the United States. There were Christmas lights, literally everywhere as far as the eye could see. Wrapped around lamp posts and stores and government buildings in the city square. David was practically mesmerized by the grandeur of it all, having seen little to nothing like it before in his living memory. He then felt a judge on his shoulder.
He turned and Kristjan directed his attention out toward the main square of Reykjavík, where a giant structure shaped like a cat on the prowl and adorned with bright, white Christmas lights, and had people by the multitudes gathered around it.
David found himself smiling at such a thing as Kristjan said from his seat, “The Reykjavík Christmas Cat. Means to us what your Christmas tree in D.C. means to you. A part of our Yule folklore.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it.” David said, more of a given statement than a formal request. David’s eyes followed the historical landmark as they passed by it with his eyes, his head fully turning along in order to do so. Kristjan, from his own seat, shook his head.
“I don’t think I can do the fable justice.” He said humbly. Shocking, isn’t it? “I’ll ask Elisbet to tell it to you. She would do a much better job than I would.” Earning him a concerned look from David, although David tried without success to hide it away from him. He did not want Kristjan to know just how concerned this decision had made him in the long run.
And once the city was behind them and they were en route to the more suburban areas of the city behind them, there were lights in and around the houses. Lights around the exteriors and in the windows, and the windows of the homes whose drapes were not drawn, David noted glorious displays inside as they passed, Christmas trees and more. He was probably wrong, but he could swear he did not see a single home as they traveled that did not have some sort of holiday display up for the world to see and appreciate.
Then, David noticed that the taxi was slowing to a crawl and finally came to a halt outside of a particular house. David looked around briefly in confusion. It was a quaint and comfortable looking two story house built in the same style just about every other house he saw in Reykjavík was built in. He had a hard time trying to think of the differences between the house build styles between America and here, but there was a definite difference between them. This house? It was white with an olive green time, and the lamp post on the street outside illuminated it as the sun had continued to set on the skyline above them. There was a single tree in the front yard, and although it did not have the amount of Yule decorations about it that so many other houses he had seen had, still; it had some.
“Kristjan?” David’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline as the cab driver stepped outside of the vehicle to retrieve their luggage from the trunk. “What is going on? I thought we were taking my things to my hotel before we came here?”
Kristjan stepped out of the taxi, and that left David little alternative but to follow suit. As their luggage was set aside on the curb where it was relatively dry, Kristjan had proceeded to fish out his wallet so that he might pay for their shared ride and tip the driver handsomely; an act that wasn’t expected or customary, but was always appreciated.
Kristjan flashed David a look and shook his head as the driver handed him his card for the return drive, and then proceeded to get into his vehicle and drive off. David then felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he looked at first his luggage, and then to Kristjan himself who said, “Why? So you can claim to be tired and send me here on my own without you meeting Elisabet and her husband?” That plan had been decided even before they left Las Vegas. It would be distasteful for David to even consider staying in the same house, so while Kristjan did just that, David would be in a nearby hotel overnight.
Kristjan cocked his head to the side and David felt the heat of the dawning realization coming to the forefront of his mind. He shook his head and muttered, “Esther…” Causing Kristjan to smirk that smirk of is and shake his head.
He quipped, “You didn’t think she wouldn’t tell me about that thought that ran through your head, did you?” David frowned quite brazenly, and Kristjan exhaled sharply through his nose and said, “It’s just a visit! They want to meet you! The cab will be back to take you to your hotel after!”
He then turned aside and grabbed his luggage and headed for the house, leaving David to close his eyes briefly before he blew out a suppressed breath through his pursed lips and he grabbed his own luggage to follow. The two men walked around the path to the side of the house and up the three steps and onto the porch. The light above the front door was already on, but before Kristjan could set his luggage down to knock, the front door opened, and Elisabet, mother of Jökull, stepped outside and onto the porch. Kristjan’s description of her to David did not do this woman justice as far as her lovely appearance and strength of character might go. Before either man could speak a word, Elisabet enveloped Kristjan in her arms and held him tight. It was a sight that made David's own heart ache with a longing.
The love this woman had for this man he had found in his life was all-too evident on her face, and he his own in return. Their embrace slowly came to an end and they separated, but not before she took Kristjan’s face in her hands and she simply gazed upon him in what had to be the love of a mother’s smile. She then finally let go, and turned to David. And before David could react, he found her arms suddenly wrapped around him.
With a hard look over her shoulder from Kristjan, David returned the hug, albeit somewhat awkwardly. Elisabet then let go of him and took a step back, but her smile remained as she ran the fingers of her left hand down David’s cheek. She then stepped back to the door and held it open, beckoning with a wave of her hand and a warm smile to boot.
“Come.” She said in invitation, and David felt little choice but to grab his luggage for the time being and graciously accept; Kristjan following behind. Only then did Elisabet step back into her house and the door closed behind them.
The Fossvog Cemetery - December 22This – this was the whole reason why David had come to Iceland. The visit with Elisabet and her husband the night before had gone better than David had believed possible. Both had done their very best to make David as comfortable as they were able, not allowing him to sit in silence at their table as they had taken the liberty to have dinner ready for the two men, assuming they would arrive hungry. To be welcomed by the parents of his boyfriend’s deceased lover, by his parents no less… hell! To be treated so well and so warmly - to be accepted… It was so much an alien concept to the young Shepherd given the trying times of his own upbringing and abuse suffered at the hands of those who were supposed to love and protect him.
Thus David’s sense of dread had somewhat eased as he had been brought to the house again for the morning meal - Elisabet’s idea - and then to the most difficult task at hand. The reason behind the visit. David can not recall ever seeing Kristjan in such finery, but there he stood in a perfectly tailored, light gray suit that was almost white in color. He was more used to seeing him in casual clothes (or nothing at all which was his personal preference), but the sight of his man in a suit? It was not something he objected to, if truth were to be told. David stayed behind on the path, his choice but one that Kristjan had agreed with because this was his personal penance, and he would not have anyone else ease his burden. Elisabet and Han-Jae had already paid a visit to their son’s grave yesterday, and he was told they would most likely be doing so again this evening after the evening meal. (Of which David was also invited to!) In Kristjan’s hands, he carried uncharacteristically a bouquet composed of orchids and chrysanthemums. He had been told beforehand that Jökull would have gotten quite the laugh out of this action, as he had as much love for flowers as Kristjan did himself.
And Kristjan? The closer the time came for their visit to the cemetery, the more apprehensive he became where David was concerned. This was something that he always did himself. Not even Jökull’s parents went with him because out of respect, they knew he would visit Jökull alone. Plus, it was a matter of some semblance of pride. He knew what this visit did to him every year, and to show another his weakness…
David could not help but notice and admire the small tree that had been planted on this boy’s grave to commemorate his life. It was a custom, Kristjan had explained to him when they had arrived. He watched as Kristjan approached the simple but tasteful marker that stood above ground. Kristjan stood there, flowers in hand, gazing down at the marker that read…
“Jökull Kae -- 04/09/1992 - 10/11/2009,”
And he watched as this man that had forced his way into both his life as well as his heart, slowly sank to his knees.
TBC….
Las Vegas, Nevada - Turnberry Towers
Current“Saviors, hm?”
Fenris snorted back a derisive laugh at the ill moniker that the newest stable of Sin City Wrestling had only in recent times had coined themselves with. He stood outside on the patio of his home, basking in the chilled air that the famed City of Sin was now affording him. It was still day, as dusk had not yet begun its descent into night. But the sky was still overcast with gray clouds with the sun barely able to show itself from behind. His arms were folded over his chest, a glass of honey-infused Scotch in one hand as he shook his head.
“A rather pompous name at promoting yourselves, wouldn't you say? What is that? Some sad, schoolyard attempt at vilifying yourself and building yourselves up collectively to be more than you actually are? You are aware of the basic definition of a savior, yes?”
Fenris closed his eyes and held up the hand holding his drink in it, fingers extended for emphasis.
“That was a rhetorical question, in case you were too dense to understand. A savior is someone who saves someone or something specifically, usually our country or some kind of charitable cause, from a specific danger….”So tell me something, Supreme Machine…” He spoke the name with an obviously sarcastic use of ‘air quotes’ behind his tone of voice. “Who exactly are you saving, and from what are you saving them from? No! Let me guess. You are out to save us as well as Sin City Wrestling as whole - from ourselves? Hm?”
He popped open an eye and waved his hand with the glass.
“Am I close? Am I at the very least getting warm? Oh, before I forget… Another definition of a Savior is the fact that they are regarded with the veneration of a religious figure. You know, notable religious figures such as Jesus Christ or Mother Teresa. But you know that can't be because even your group would not be so arrogant to put yourselves in such a light. Now I admit that I am as arrogant as the next man out there, and if you don’t believe me, ask just about anyone I know!~ But even I would not be so sacrilegious as to compare myself to the Son of God or at the very least, one of the most revered saints of any religious faith! But all of you…?”
He paused to take a drink, savoring the burning feel of the scotch coursing down the back of his throat.
“Well I can’t deny that you are doing all you can to put your names out there. I also can’t deny the fact that you’ve made a bigger impact than anyone thought capable in recent memory. But the thing is, I’m not altogether certain whether that’s a good thing or not. Oh it’s certainly not a good thing that your little group has worked overtime in making enemies for itself and believing yourselves either invulnerable or immune to the certain consequences of your actions. But as a whole…?”
He paused and took another drink before setting the glass down onto the table he stood beside.
“I admit I was curious when Mac made your team known. I can’t recall in my short time in SCW any real stable of note save for London Underground and Wolfslair, and let’s face it…”
He gazed quickly into the camera with a wolfish smile and shook his head.
“You are neither.”
He turned back away to look out into the city to continue his train of thought.
“Gabriel told me all about a time in SCW when there were stables a plenty. The Seven Deadly Sins chief amongst them. The Fallen. Teams of men and women that made an impact but did so without having to resort to the same cheap theatrics and sneak attacks that your team does. Do you know what that makes you…?”
“A carbon copy of every other group that wants to play the numbers game in order to prove their own superiority. Now, Mac Bane is the reigning World Heavyweight Champion. I will give him that - and ONLY him. Mac is a man that I have fought before and he has earned my respect. But you, SuMa? Dominick Strife… ‘Godly’...” He rolled his eyes. “Ken Davison?”
He scoffed quite audibly as you could practically feel him rolling his eyes.
“You’re like a pack of Boy Scouts following your adult leader, ready and willing to do whatever you say in order to impress your own self-entitled importance upon the world! Bottom line, Supreme Machine: This little family that you have surrounded yourself with? Aside from Mac, there is not a single special thing about ANNNY of you! If there were, if you were all as special and as mighty as you would have us believe, then you would not have felt the need to go out there with a numbers advantage and decimate so many men who crossed your paths! A man that bested you? Attack him. A team that got one up on you and derailed your fast track to success? Send them to the hospital! Weeks ago, in our final confrontation, you PROVED yourselves to be over hyped because when you no longer had the numbers advantage, you were no longer all that you wanted us to believe. You were beaten and sent packing! Tails tucked between your legs! Oh… speaking of which…”
Fenris walked over to the railing and gripped the metal with his hands, wrapping his fingers around the metal until his knuckles turned practically white from the pressure.
“Something else happened that day. Something that pretty much sealed your fate to the point even the sacred Norn tore your page from their Book, crumpled it up and tossed it back over their collective shoulders and screamed ‘why bother?’! Do you know what you did that you never, EVER should have done, you big dumb BITCH!? You…”
He held up a single finger.
“... Put your hands on my brother. And when I was down, of all the people who could have come to his aid specifically, was the one who did the same over a year ago; Austin James Mercer. Vinnie, Bulldog and Alex? They took care of your bitch buddies, but you? I was down at the moment but Austin outclassed you in one, fluid move. He not only saved Aron, but he saved your ass as well.”
Fenris looked to the camera and nodded, reaching over to pick up his glass again.
“Because if you had hit that move, if you had choke slammed and done my baby brother any damage at all, I wouldn’t just beat you in Reno on the 23rd. I’d have to had fucking BURIED you! So it is time I did my part for charity and give you a reality check ahead of schedule.”
“SuMa, teams like yours are a dime a dozen. You talk big but you’re just a sad little group of children thrown together because alone, they are unable to fend for themselves. I have no fucking clue where Dominick has been. Not my business and I don’t care, really. The only reason Ken Davison is challenging for the Internet title is because he lucked out and I can only pray to Baldur that Agostino pulverizes the little shit! Mac is the only one of you worth anything, but you, SuMa? Last I saw you in the ring, you got your dumb ass disqualified because David outsmarted you!”
“Granted, outsmarting you is about as difficult as beating a pig in a game of chess, but you get my point. The only one that is worth a damn out of any of you is Mac Bane, and thus far he has had the smarts and respect to keep himself as far away from your bullshit with me and my family as possible. But that is beside the point. I’m not coming to Reno to outsmart you.”
He held his hands up, palms out, and smiled as he shook his head ‘no.’
“No. I’m simply coming out to that ring to fuck you up! Now you can go on and bullshit all you like, thinking that just because you have the size edge over me, that it means something - anything - once that bell rings!? HA! Last time I checked, I was no heavyweight! Look at me, bitch! I’m 204 pounds! 92 kilograms! There is barely a time I get inside of that ring where I am not at a size disadvantage but do you know something? When has that ever stopped me? How many damn times have I taken that assumption and shoved it down the throats of the men who think that! The biggest men I have ever been up against - Austin James Mercer and Casey Williams! Austin is and would always be your better, and Casey? The man is seven feet and over four hundred pounds, so he’s sure as shit bigger! Why don’t you ask him what it felt like when little ol’ me dumped him on his head with a German suplex!?”
“Yeah, me! I know I can take you, SuMa! I know I have to! I can, and will, pick you apart until there isn’t enough left for the ring crew to sweep your sorry ass self up with a Hoover and blow you back to wherever it is that you’re from! I might just tie you up into such a tight knot and stuff you into a package and gift you back to your precious Saviors, if for no other reason than to sit back and enjoy watching how long it takes for them to untie you!”
“So far SuMa, your greatest weapon against your opponents has been the fear factor. Your size, that ugly mug of yours hidden behind an even uglier mask. All of that?”
He spread his arms wide.
“None of that means shit to me because I’m not afraid of you! There are many men in my time in the ring that have earned my respect but not a single one of them has ever instilled in me even the smallest semblance of fear! Despite what you and yours want everyone to believe, your size is nothing but your biggest detriment! Grated you are strong as fuck, but the biggest men also have the weakest pressure points throughout their body and I can not wait to exploit each and every one of yours! The only problem I have going into this match is choices. Whether to knock your ass out, or put you through hell and make you BEG the official to end the pain! And even then I can not promise anything. I can’t guarantee anyone that I will stop. Ask Mercer. Go back and do your homework, SuMa, and find out the lengths I’ll go through to any man stupid enough to touch my brother! It wasn’t pretty, by even my standards, but it was fun!”
Taking a drink, and a pause to collect himself, Fenris looked out over the sky that had by now darkened into a canvas of dark blues, pinks and oranges while the lights of the city reigned supreme.
“Almost as much fun as it will be with you."
