The private jet comes to a screeching halt, the familiar sensation of the bounce of landing gear as a plane comes down shudders Daniel up from his slumber. He brings the back of a palm up to his face, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, squinting until he’s accustomed to the sunlight blaring in through the windows. Jackson’s already on his feet, unloading the bags from the overhead compartment and simultaneously slipping a few dollar bills to the attendant.

The droning of the pilot is lost on Daniel, the mere mention of Ocala, Florida jolting him up from his seat. Wrenched back by the seatbelt he had on, Daniel fails to suppress a grin. With a click, the belt is released from its lock and Daniel gets to his feet. A pair of headphones hangs off Daniel’s neck, one ear piece snuggling his left ear, the other hanging loosely. His opened grey sweater reveals an old-school Dory Funk shirt, which he’d struggled with for a long time. To mark out, or not to mark out, that is the question; he decided to mark the fuck out.

The decompression of the cabin is followed by the sole attendant unlocking the cabin doors and extending out the staircase. Standing to the side politely, she gives the young Daniel a sweet smile, which Daniel simply glazes over; there was only one thing on his mind. SMACK! Jackson slaps the back of Daniel’s head, causing him to jerk around and glare at the larger man.

Daniel realizes that Jackson’s referring to the beautiful air stewardess, and quickly gives her a dashing smile and a resounding thank you for her services. Jackson winks at the lady, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he follows Daniel out of the plane. A dark blue SUV waits outside on the tarmac, engine on and a faceless driver already in place. Habitually, Daniel walks towards the read passenger door, which is held open by yet another faceless staff member.

A short drive into Ocala later, the two arrive at their destination. Before the doors of the grandest, most prestigious wrestling school of them all. The Funkin’ Conservatory School of Wrestling loomed overhead, its doors wide open and the sound of men hard at work resonating through its walls. Daniel peeled himself out of the SUV the second it came to a halt, standing before the two huge doors with a look of awe in his face. Jackson followed closed behind him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder; he had no greater joy than seeing his ward and employer so ridiculously happy.

The two walk into the larger-than-life building, walking to a back room labeled “Dory Funk: Knock before entering, or I’ll knock you out”. Daniel takes a glance at Jackson, who nods his head towards the door, before rapping his knuckles on the white door thrice. A gruff voice calls them in, and as Danny swings the door open, his jaw hangs idiotically. A second passes. Two seconds. Dory breaks the silence with a loud guffaw.

Daniel closes his mouth, just looking around the room with nothing but awe. The walls are covered with framed photos of Dory Funk Senior, Junior, Terri Funk and the hordes of wrestlers who’ve passed through these very doors. From the Million Dollar Man Ted DiBiase to the Hardy brothers, accolades of all these greats decorated the walls of the small rectangular room.

Daniel grins sheepishly, pulling up the closest wooden chair and setting his butt squarely on it. He drops his backpack on his feet, back completely straight. Jackson slips into the one right beside him, maintaining similar posture, albeit a little more relaxed to his over-excited ward.

Daniel grimaces at his own childish sycophantic behavior. He chews the inside of his cheek, wipes the gleam off his eyes and looks directly at Dory.

Dory looks at the boy, weighing the words that he said. His face cracks into a smile, crow’s feet etched into the side of each eye.

Dory arches his left brow at the boy, chuckling at his enthusiasm. He tilts to signal the boy to keep going, and Daniel quickly unzips his bag and goes to leave the room. A couple of minutes to put his gear on and give himself a pep talk in the mirror later, Daniel struts out of the gents. His swagger is confident, excitement bubbling within him but not showing its immature face outside. He slips into the ring, wearing black pads over his elbows and knees. He has blue tights that go all the way down to his ankles and a pair of black wrestling boots laced up tight.

With a grin on his face, Daniel did just that.

Cursing through a mouth guard, Danny rubs the side of his jaw. Having missed the final right, Jackson had taken advantage and come in with a thunderous right hand of his own, catching Danny on the chin. The punch felt like it held nothing back, but deep down Danny knew Jackson wouldn’t hit him with all he had, he cared too much. Regardless, it didn’t stop the anger from bubbling up from Danny’s core.

Danny spits out the mouth guard into his hand.

Danny grimaces before lunging with both hands at the waist of Jackson, he wraps his arms around the bigger man and pushes him towards the ropes. As if by reflex, Jackson drops his center of gravity, reaching underneath Danny’s thighs and lifting him into the air. Danny, realizing he was going to be dropped hard on his back, uses his feet to clutch onto Jackson, transitioning his arms around Jackson’s neck rather. This time Danny drops his center of gravity, focusing his weight backwards and initiating the drop himself. The shift in body weight causes Jackson to loose balance landing him in a straightjacket DDT. At the last moment, Danny eases the hold around Jackson’s neck, letting his head slip out just enough that it wouldn’t make too much contact with the mat.

The two crash into the mat, both letting go of the other completely. Jackson rolls off of Danny, lying on his back, and begins to pull off his leather fingerless gloves. Danny breathes in deeply before chuckling between gasps.

Jackson rolls onto his feet, and almost immediately as does Danny. The two circle each other in the center of the ring, darting their hands out and searching for a lock up. A look of clear happiness is plastered on both faces, clear as day.

Danny chuckles at this, before lunging forward into the air, he twists his body sharply, sending his elbow flying towards the face of Jackson. Jackson slips under Danny’s arm, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist. He flexes his back to throw Danny into a German suplex, releasing at the last moment to send Danny flying into the corner of the ring. Danny manages to somehow land on his feet, rushing towards Jackson with a baseball slide, catching him in his shoulders.

Danny gets to his feet, offering his hand to the downed Jackson. With one hand massaging his neck, Jackson grasps Danny’s forearm, hoisting himself up onto his feet as well. The two move towards the corner of the ring, picking up towels that were draped over the ropes and water bottles.

Danny glances towards Jackson, noticing the look of concern on his butler’s face. Danny breaks into a grin, playfully punching Jackson in the shoulder.

Danny narrows his eyes, his smile still on his face. He leaps up in one fluid motion onto the top turnbuckle, sitting on it and staring up towards the lights adorning the gym ceiling. The faint spray paint of “Dory Funk” can be seen, almost completely faded away. Danny has his phone in his hand, and he throws it to Jackson, signaling him to start filming.

Danny takes a deep breath, hopping off the turnbuckle and signaling Jackson to cut the recording. Jackson does so, tapping on the screen a few times and sending it off to the XWF production team. Danny throws his towel back over the top rope and raises his fist, throwing a few punches into the air infront of him and beckoning Jackson to join him once more. With a sigh, Jackson rolls under the third rope and joins Danny in the ring.