OOC: Formatting in the morn

January 28th, 2020

Outside of a small coffee establishment in Australia sits a young woman, appearing to be in her early 20s. Her hair is dark brown with a hint of red. She is fairly slim, though her appearance is overall unkempt. She places the edge of her cup to her lips before looking around a bit, checking the time on her phone. Before she can express any real disappointment, her attention is caught by a rather polite comment from somewhere in her peripheral vision.

"Apologies for keeping you waiting. Had some business to attend to, heh."

She jumps, startled, nearly spilling her coffee. Once she recognizes the figure her embarrassed surprise turns to mild amusement.

"Jesus, Ned! You sure know how to make a girl's heart skip, don'tcha?"

Ned laughs softly, shrugging while he walks towards the table.

"I guess it's that "wrestling superstar charm"."

"Or some bloody good practice in scarin' the knickers off of ladies!"

"I mean, I wouldn't be surprised, honestly."

Kaye laughs off her statement, taking the seat opposite from her as she smiles back, clearly more comfortable with Ned around.

"It's good to see you, Mia."

She shudders at the sound of her name, exaggerating her disgust.

"Geez, you can just call me Rose, mate! I hate me first name."

"Right, right... My bad, Rose. How's the coffee?"

Ned thought back to when he had first met Rose, back when he originally traveled to Australia apart of Drew's strange scheme to help him defeat Noah Jackson. Although that had left Ned with a draw on his record, a cat out of his custody, and a broken leg, the experience had caused him to meet Rose, purely out of chance. While Drew was freaking out after Ned was spiked by the kangaroo, Rose had handled the situation with a lot of grace and tact not very characteristic of the good Captain. Her decision to help out a stranger in himself was very endearing to Ned and they became fast friends. And despite everything recently, she made sure to keep in touch.

"Wouldn't suggest it. Tastes like burnt taint. Here, try a sip!"

She pushes the cup towards him, letting him pick it up and give it a quick swig.

"Just tastes like normal coffee from the states to me."

Her head melodramatically drops to the table in feigned agony.

"Neeeeed, nooo! It ain't fair that you cunts get no healthcare, now ya telling me you got shite coffee to?!"

Fighting back chuckles, Ned responds.

"Look, are you hear to grill me on American stuff or catch up?"

"Maybe a bit o' both?"

Ned sighs, shaking his head with a smile at her continued antics.

"What's going on with you, right now?"

"Me? Well, the job's been supportin' me fine enough. Been getting by as best I can. Actually caught a bit of that TV show you're apart of!"

"Really? How'd you like it?"

"Well, good on ya! I could dig your matches, but there's plenty of crap on there if I'm being honest. Like, I don't know how ya stick a bloke in another two blokes to make an evil one, but I s'pose that's wrasslin'!"

"Yeah, been wondering something like that myself. I think. Still new to the Aussie slang."

"Don't sweat it, Ned! Just visit a bit more often and you'll pass as a Bruce in no time! Speaking of-"

Rose is cut off by an alarm on her phone sounding off. She takes a quick glance before her face turns to frustration and she begins to start get up from her seat.

"Oh, fuck me! I'm 'bout to miss a night with me mates! We were gonna hit the pub tonight and slam a few back. I mean, if you're interested, I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you tagged along-"

"I can't. Personal stuff."

Rose nods, letting her personality get a bit more subdued than usual.

"No wucka's... well, maybe next time, ya reckon?"

"Maybe next time. Somewhere else though."

She cocks an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something.

"I... reckon?""

"Attaboy, Ned! See, you'll pick it up! See ya later!"

Ned waves goodbye to Rose as she runs off to her other plans. He sits for a moment, taking in the atmosphere before giving the coffee a hearty sip. After a few more moments of solace, he sits before getting up and walking back towards his hotel room.

--------------

Back in his hotel bed, Ned Kaye lies on his back, watching some reruns as his head seems to sink further into the pillow. After a particularly grating laugh track, Ned's phone begins to ring, taking The Notorious One off guard. He shoots upward, searching for his phone before finding it and looking at the caller.

James Raven.

Perplexed, Ned places the phone to his ear, allowing his confusion to travel through his voice.

"Hey, James. What's up?"

James wastes no time in getting to the point, his voice clear and speedy.

"Well, first, I got the SWAT charges dropped."

Ned's face turns to disbelief, excitement quickly following.

"James-I..! Thank you!"

"Don't thank me yet. You're still getting fined and you have to fulfill some of your punishment through teaching a class to those officers on how to properly prepare for trained wrestlers."

"Do I have my gym back, at least? Am I allowed in the country?"

"Yes and yes, but you're going to be under surveillance for at least a month. Hopefully, you learned not to do whatever the hell that was again."

"Yeah, yeah. I think I learned my lesson, for sure."

"Second order of business..."

James hesitates, letting the moment breathe.

"We're trying to get a poker game together? Think you'll be able to make it to Robert's on the 24th?"

"Ehn. No promises there. I'll definitely try, though."

"That works. Lastly... I've been thinking through your "plan," Ned."

"And?"

"...I think you should really wait another month. You're doing well and getting your footing, but something like this risks ruining all of that work. If you try this in April, you-"

"You know I can't do that, James. I gave my word. That has to mean something."

The phone goes silent for a passing second, James' voice returning after some contemplation.

"If you're not going to wait, then... there's a proposal I'd like to make you, kid."

"What's that?"

"I'd like to become your manager, Ned."

Ned freezes in shock, completely unprepared for the words and unsure how to respond. He tries to collect himself, but still feels completely flabbergasted.

"Well...?"

Taking a gulp, Ned opens his mouth to answer.

--------------

In a dark room, illuminated by a dim light overhead, Ned Kaye sits in a chair. He leans to his side, index finger resting against his lip as he turns his head, allowing his hand to lower to his chin.

"I wasn't born to be a combatant."

Kaye adjusts his posture, making certain he's more properly seated as he contemplates. With a brief silence, he speaks again.

"My friends and family would come around every so often and look at me and when they saw my future they'd always foresee me as a writer, or scientist, or college professor. They didn't see big muscles on me, nor did they sense some talent for battle within. Rather, they just saw little Ned Kaye with a keen mind, a big heart, and a love for all that weird nerdy stuff that would wait until the 2010s to get popular. So, when I was growing up and I was seen with comics in one hand and some hastily written Tony Hawk's Pro Skater cheats in the other, I attracted some pretty ruthless bullying. Because of that, I got to grow up being forced to fight. And I hated it. I wanted no part in these rough brawls I'd be cornered into, but I ended up having to put my dukes up and roll with the punches, no matter how much I hated it. But I considered it an inevitability, so I asked my Dad to put me in some martial arts classes so I could at least learn how to defend myself. So, after some tough months, I learned some techniques and I didn't have to worry about bullies or jackasses anymore. I didn't have to fight anymore."

"Yet, when I started looking into my dream job, it wasn't any of that stuff people expected from me. It was to be a professional wrestler, like the ones I looked up to on TV. The people who didn't just fight to impose some will on others, but chose to compete. That's when I realized that I didn't hate fighting, my problem was with those forcing me into conflict. So, I chose to fight more, but I did it for the right reasons in the right ways, even though my father, bless his heart, almost disowned me at some points. I had a passion for this business and I chose to pursue it. To overcome my own limitations to become the best athlete I could possibly be. That was my choice."

"Griffin MacAlister wasn't afforded those options. He wasn't given a choice. He was forced to become what he is. Molded into it against his will, despite his enjoyment of that mold currently. He was stripped of his personal agency so he could be made into some sort of weapon. Someone whose supposed to intimidate people like me through sheer presence. But I don't fear Griffin. If anything, I pity him. He's been brainwashed into thinking that following his orders is somehow strength. That playing his role as the living weapon is admirable. But you don't decide whether or not you show up into that ring, Griffin. You don't lift yourself up because you want to, you do it because that's what you're "supposed" to do. That's why you're not going to stand tall in that ring Wednesday Night over my crumpled body. Because me simply being in that ring every time that bell is struck means more than you could possibly understand. Because this, professional wrestling, doesn't mean as much to you as it does to me. For you, it's about loyalty to your captors. For you, this is a mission."

"But for me, MacAlister? This is life. And no matter what tries to pull me away from this path, I find myself back here. And there's no place I'd rather be! So when you look me eye to eye in that ring and you try to push me down, don't be surprised when I stand back up. No matter how hard you strike. Even if I am on the verge of death, you can bet your ass I'll still stand back up! Because it's worth facing death for. It's worth the pain to keep going. And if you think any amount of training or scheming is going to help you tear my life out of my hands, Griffin, you'll find a tighter grasp than you expected. Prepare yourself, MacAlister. Because you're between me and the next moments of my career, arguably the most important moments of my career. Do you really think I'm going to let you strip me of that?"

"You can't run from yourself."