The camera feed starts, the image shaky and erratic, pointed squarely at two pairs of beaten up shoes above a silver slab of concrete.

"-ve only worked with this one a little, but I'm sure I can do this okay."

"Well, it'd help out a great de-."

"Recording! See, I know what I'm doing!"

"I didn't doubt you for a second. Thanks. You certain the school won't mind?"

"Nah, nah, nah."

The camera shoots up to show Ned Kaye, wearing incredibly casual clothes with a necklace holding a ring on it. Behind him is the gentle suburbia surrounding Sweet Corner Deli.

"Alright, so I need to hush so you can do your thing, right?"

Ned pauses before shaking his head, inhaling somewhat.

"No, not at all. In fact, introduce yourself."

"Uh, really? O-okay?"

Clumsily, the picture turns around to show a young man, no older than 18, short, curly black hair hugging his head. After getting a decently stable image, he waves.

"Hi, everybody."

Ned lightheartedly chuckles out of frame.

"Go on, say your name. If they can accept me, they can accept you."

The boy stammers nervously as he begins to speak.

"Y'know, I-I'm Ethan. Hey."

The camera twists around to show The Notorious One once more, a large grin across his face.

"I-I'm just not used to stuff like this. Maybe you should stay in focus."

"Sure, buddy. Whatever makes you comfortable. I wanna thank you again for assisting me during all this."

"Hey, no problem, Ned! You're like a celebrity! I don't mind helping out at all!"

Ned rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he grins.

"I wouldn't claim anything of that nature. I'm just your neighbor."

Kaye begins to walk forward. After a brief moment of hesitation, the camera begins to follow him, the image bouncing slightly, but stable enough.

"Yeah, my famous, wrestling neighbor who works for a multi-million dollar company! Speaking of, why are they so low on cameramen that they can't spare a few for you?"

"They're not. In my last promo, I said some harsh things about this company's treatment of me. I stand by every word, but it has resulted in them declining my request for camera crew until the 25th. They don't want somebody like me to have the Hart title, let alone the most prestigious belt in the company. And now they've grown tired of hearing my voice and decided that I don't deserve one."

"Damn... that ain't fair at all."

"Those folk on top just view it as business, that's the insidiousness of it. Centurion thinks they genuinely care for him when the truth is that they would cut all ties with any performer, him included, if it was deemed profitable. We go out there and put our all, sacrificing time and health, but it means little to them. We're their one export and they couldn't care less if we got lost in transit."

He takes a moment, wearing a look of disappointment.

"You know what I witnessed the other day?"

"What?"

"The head administrative assistant set a wrestler's belongings on fire because she didn't like said wrestler."

"Oh my God..."

"That's our worth to management. That could be me later on."

"Have you... have you thought about leaving the company and going back to your old gigs?"

"No."

"Things don't change if you just sit by and hope. If you're searching for a catalyst to shift the status quo, you haven't yet looked into a mirror. If anyone in the world wants something, they've got to make that leap. I'm no exception."

"I just don't know why you're trying so hard on this match when they're doing so much to put you down and you've got a guaranteed shot for a bigger belt at the next show."

"Firstly, you shouldn't keep an attitude like that. Every match is important. Every challenge deserves your all. Even if the circumstances seem unfair. Even if you think you're on top of the world, complacency and vanity can handedly consume all you hold dear. Hell, look at Centurion. He's facing that reality now. Plus, the Hart Championship is not some charity belt given to just anyone. Getting a shot at it can make or break people's entire careers. This is an opportunity in of itself. If I don't take this seriously, I'm proving everyone who doubts me correct."

They share a pause, letting the city's ambiance fill the silence.

"I also wanna stick it to management."

"Wait, what? How?"

"Simple. Next Warfare, the Hart and Universal titles are on the line. If the number one contender of the Hart title is already in the other match, it'll be quite a hassle to book. And if I can throw even a minor wrench in their plans, that'll be sweet justice for their underestimation of me."

"Well... how are you gonna do it?"

Ned stops, gazing into the distance at a couple of buildings.

"Ned?"

He points to one of the buildings in the distance.

"There. That's where we shot my last promo. I examined their statements and responded bluntly, but in my haste to not feel like I was falling behind, I almost forgot something."

"Noah operates at his best if he's under your skin. Centurion pulls a fast one on you by being in your head. If you don't give them that, their greatest weapons are dismantled."

"I got so caught up in the intensity of my emotions that I almost forgot that I don't just have a feeling of home that lingers, but that my home never leaves me. Neither of them can say that. And whilst I'm unable to climb above Centurion's heights or sink beneath Jackson's lows, when they step into that ring, they have to meet me at my level. And a home field advantage is one hell of an equalizer."

"Wow... y'know, no matter what, I believe in you, Ned."

"I know. Anytime I'm walking down the street and someone stops me so they can tell me how much of an inspiration I am-"

He places his hand onto the ring hanging from his necklace.

"I'm reminded why I persist, even in times like this, where I'll be met with the presence of the greatest and the worst."

"Ned, I really respect that, but like you said, Centy's the greatest. He's tough. He's beaten more guys in there than anyone else."

"And he should be admired for that achievement, but the fact of the matter is that pinning me is a fantasy of his that he'll never finalize. See, Centurion's greatest weakness here is his element. He's used to being in control. For all the talent and skill in him, he has grown used to the taste of being the top dog. Even his last two matches were battles no one doubted he wouldn't come out on top. I'm fighting with the odds completely against me? That's the norm. I've grown used to the neglect of Lady Luck. I've grown used to being the working man who gets fed table scraps when he deserves full courses. Centurion, bless him, he's been far removed from this road where success and self preservation are inseparable. But for me? That's every week."

"But Centurion just had an interview where he said-"

"I haven't watched it."

"What?"

"I haven't watched it. I spent a lot of time reacting to my opponents last time. I can't only focus on being reactionary if I'm going to earn that shot for the Hart title. I know everything I require. They want to say more? Let them. If I'm going to win, it'll be by keeping my ground, not by eroding theirs."

"Are you sure you'll be able to? What if you get injured at Anarchy? What if you can't predict Noah well enough? What if Centurion's too much for you o-or management does something?"

Ned looks past the camera.

"What if you can't do it?"

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no words come out. He sighs and starts to talk.

"Do you remember about two years ago, around when Dad got diagnosed with melanoma?"

"You mean after-"

"Yes, after that. You were helping grab stuff from the store every now and then while Mom was around him at home. Y'know, you and your parents generally keeping an eye on em. And I told you that I was gonna work four months straight at every available show they'd let me in to build up a nest egg for them."

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember."

"Do you remember asking me that same thing before I left?"

"Yeah. I was worried you were gonna end up working yourself to death."

"I know. Do you recall what happened afterwards?"

Ethan pauses.

"You did it."

Ned nods, staying silent. Birds lightly chirp in the background.

"We should probably start wrapping this up."

"Yeah..."

"Do you have anything else you want to say?"

"No. I've said more than enough. It's time to start doing again."

"You can't run from yourself."