The camera pans over the interior of a van, starting with the hefty looking driver. Outside of the windshield, a red light visible. As the camera’s view turns, it’s apparent that the van looks worn from age, a variety of scrapes and marks strewn about on the tacky interior walls.Sitting upon a faded, blue couch is Ethan, his face portraying an expression of confusion and concern.

“You sure this is gonna help you out when facing him?”

“Of course!”

Ned Kaye is heard grunting somewhat, revealing why as the camera reveals him, struggling in his seat, a straitjacket containing his upper body, focused on the act of escaping it.

“Robert is an acclaimed grappler. An accomplished one, as well! If I'm to give myself any leeway or room for error, learning to escape such tight fits, this is a good place to start!”

There is a clear enthusiasm in Kaye's voice, an excitement that places a smile on Ethan.

“Uh-huh…”

“I would've started learning contortion, but it's far more complex, so it's a little unrealistic to try an-”

“Green!”

“Damn it!”

Ned whips his head back into the seat he's in, the cameraman assisting him in getting buckled again.

“Thanks, Jay.”

He shakes his head somewhat, frustration clear in his eyes.

“Can't even make less than a minute, yet. I really have to improve faster.”

“Ned, you're being too hard on yourself. You're gonna be alright. Okay?”

“I know, I just need to be prepared.”

“You are, you always have been, man. You just need to calm down a bit. You can't be 100 percent perfect, no one can.”

With a bated breath, Ned responds.

“Have you watched his matches?”

“I mean, I've seen like a couple-”

“Did you keep your eyes peeled and really, truly watch them?”

“...No.”

With a glance of uneasiness, Ned communicates his worry clearly to Ethan.

“So, he is that good.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Of Robert? No.”

“Then what are you afraid of?”

“That I'm not strong enough to… stay sober.”

“It feels like everywhere I step, this pressure is waiting, biding its time until I crack. And I'm getting offered drinks so often that I can't even keep count anymore. A complimentary bottle of bourbon here, a free shot there, it's getting harder to say no. I'm afraid I can't last underneath all this.”

“It's gonna be alright. I remember hearing all those people talking about how you couldn't make it in the XWF. And then all those people saying you wouldn't ever be anything here. And then, those same bastards again, saying you don't stand a chance here. It's talk, Ned. And if you think this is the most intense pressure you've ever been in, then maybe you forget the steps you took towards getting cleaned up. I saw you day-in, day-out doing your best every day to get a little further along. And you got here, man. Don't toss it away for these mind games. They're not worth it.”

“You're right, Ethan. Thank you for coming with me on this journey.”

“No problem, man.”

“Red!”

They turn forward to see the hefty man grinning back at them.

“You're already ‘bout 12 seconds behind.”

Ned chuckles, beginning to struggle to get out of the straitjacket, still buckled in.


The scene cuts to a montage, showing Ned shaking the hands of various people who've helped drive him forward. In every short clip, a big, lighthearted grin is worn proudly by Ned. Once the fan clips are finished, many scenes of The Notorious One exercising are shown. Lifting weights while sitting on the side of a bed in a nicely kept hotel room, notes regarding his opponent taped to the wall in front of him. Ned on a treadmill, nearly sprinting on it, sweat dripping down the sides of cheeks, the ring on his necklace gripped tightly in his right hand. Finally, shots of him swimming working to increase his speed, emulating Olympic techniques. After the montage is finished, it shows him lifting himself from the pool, presumably in the hotel he's staying at. He grabs a towel and quickly dries his face, then resting it on his shoulders before taking a seat on a plastic chair in front of the pool.



"Who is Robert Main?"

He shakes his head slightly, droplets of water falling from his hair.

"To understand "who," we must first understand several "what"s."

"In that case, what is Robert Main?"

"The Universal Champion and one half, a third if you count honorary member James Raven, of your Tag Team Champions, APEX. Truly honorable accomplishments, but not an answer as to he is, just what he's done. To identify him truly is to know more than simply his achievements."

"What does Robert Main love?"

"His belts and himself. Perhaps Drew Archyle, but I wouldn't be so certain. No, we can be assured of Robert's true infatuations based on his demeanor and priorities. Based on how often he feels the need to remind us that he is the Universal Champion. On the fact that he lugs those belts with him everywhere he goes. In fact, I seem to recall him having fervent dreams when he his fingertips were no longer smudging against the Hart title. You love that gold, Robert, more than anything in the world and it fuels your ego. But now that we know what you love, we know what you fear losing. And yes, I mean fear."

"See, those belts sustain the hunger of your ego more than any one victory ever could. It's why you feel you don't need to expend effort on me. On anyone, for that matter. But it has only serviced you this far. It will only take you this far. What's interesting is that you think your performance in that ring will take me back. Will surprise me, as though I haven't watched hours of your matches while they occurred and in preparation for this match. No, what astonishes me, Robert is that you have the gall to say I remind you of yourself. Your arrogant assessment of me wasn't the issue, but the concept that you faced the hardships of someone like me. The challenge of moving up in the system. You don't get to claim that you understand my position when you reserve your power to destroy people's careers. You're not allowed to say a word about the system working against your interests back in the day when you have become the system. Y'know, I am grateful for this opportunity. I am glad I impressed enough to get to this point, but the fact that you think you have the right to deny success to people who cross you is sickening beyond description. I sure as hell don't get along with everyone in the locker room, but never would I imagine flexing my position in the company to endanger or end their careers! Even the most vile, lazy, or disruptive employee doesn't deserve that sort of treatment from a fellow worker! You don't have the right to do that to people, Robert! To jeopardize the livelihoods of them, their children, their spouses!"

"YOU DON'T HAVE THAT RIGHT!"

Ned controls his breathing, calming himself as best he can.

"And after Wednesday night, you will no longer have that power. Your fears of losing your precious gold will come to fruition and I will take pleasure in knowing that I have humbled you before the XWF Galaxy. To everyone you have ever wronged with your influence. You are on the business end of the gun barrel known as my spirit, Robert. And while I truly wanted this battle to be one of complete respect and honor, you tossed away any chance of that when you gloated about your capacity to ruin lives."

"There was one glaring point you were incorrect about: that I would sacrifice anything for the tiniest drip of success. No. I wouldn't. I wouldn't sacrifice my friendship with Ethan, or the support of my fans, or my values and principles. Of course you would, Robert. You "write the rules," which is code for only adopting beliefs and morals when they are convenient for you. Hell, I bet that if you had to choose between those belts and Drew, you would toss him away with the same callousness that you display when you harm other wrestlers' livelihoods."

"Every last word you said was a carefully crafted attempt to demoralize me. A delicate dissemination that my efforts will be wasted. That you cannot be shoved from the seat you warm. And you hoped this would distract my campaign against you. Would change my attention from the man to the belt."

"I'm not so easily fooled, Robert."

"Remember, we're on a cliffside. And each moment you stare down at me, certain that my success is a mere dream, is another moment you hand me in that ring. Another second you've bid farewell to and a second I utilize. Maybe that's another thing you fear. That if you begin climbing again, that your grip on those belts will loosen."

"It matters not, Main. Your grip on the Universal Title has been wavering since you obtained it. You want to invest so heavily in your own ego? Be my guest. But don't be surprised when it doesn't pay off. And it won't pay off, Robert. At Warfare, I am going to remind you how it feels to taste defeat and I am going to do it with the same respect, dignity, and discipline I apply to every match."

"One week remains, Robert. Don't squander it further."


Ned walks back into the hotel room, exhausted from further training. He looks up in the room, door closing from its own weight behind him, stopping in stunned shock as he sees a large bottle of wine placed on a decorative tablecloth resting up a hastily set up TV tray by the foot of his bed. The room card tumbles from his fingers onto the floor as he stares at the bottle, a wine glass to its left, shimmering from the light of the perched wall lamp. He stands there, in front of the door, with the stillness of a statue, his eyes gazing over the scene in front of him.

Finally breathing, he walks forward.

TO BE CONTINUED

"You can't run from yourself."