October 10th, 2020

Ned scanned his eyes around the psychiatrist’s office. There was very little furnishing the waiting room he had been in for about half an hour. A small wooden coffee table adorned with some People magazines. The walls were colored pastel shades of peach and brown with speckled stains splotched over tiny patches throughout the room. The waiting room itself was compact, carrying a feeling of claustrophobic tightness with it. He stared at the double doors leading into the therapy room. Ned didn’t want to be here. He attempted to rationalize to himself that it didn’t come from a stigma of therapy, but instead an intense desire to avoid discussing his most intimate issues with someone who was little more than a stranger. His foot tapped impulsively as he waited, hoping the session before him could end so this whole experience would be over quicker. He may have had a lot of problems, but the last thing Ned needed was therapy.

After another extended period of anticipation, a woman burst out of the two doors leading into the doctor’s office and quickly paced out of the building, sobbing as she left, patting tissues against her cheeks. With a held breath, Kaye rose to his feet, stepping carefully into the office as the doors slammed shut behind him. There was an eery feeling in the stagnant air of the office, rays of setting sunlight split by dusty, old blinds. The carpet was short and looked like the kind of thing Ned had gotten countless rugburns from in elementary school. There was a single large desk and chair towards the back of the room along with two chairs placed noticably more casually. With a quick look over the office, he couldn’t find the doctor, though he inspected the placard on the desk.

“Urias R. Pheelanruff”

The name struck him as odd, but he shrugged and took a seat in the chair closest to the door. Before he could get comfortable, a large booming voice filled the office.

“Welcome to my office. Are you ready to get theorpized?”

Ned nearly jumped out of his chair, startled. Walking out of the restroom in his office was the doctor himself, Urias.

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Urias was a stout man, pleasantly round and cheery. He stood in a suit that looked particularly ill fitting for a man of his… build. He had glasses with large frames and even thicker lenses. It was clear he had just washed something off of his face that still stained his shirt. Urias looked down to acknowledge it before waving his hand and saying, “We-uh, just made a little too much progress and she thought she’d… share her coffee with me!”

He added some enthusiasm as he finished the statement, sitting down into the chair across from Ned, that hugged his dimensions tightly. With a lick of his finger, Urias picked up a clipboard on a small table to his side and started flipping through pages to find his current client. After finding some interesting information, his eyebrows lifted as he looked across to Ned.

“Hm. Says here that you have a pretty odd profession.”

Ned nodded in response.

“So, uh… when did you… know?”

A confused expression filled Ned’s face.

“Know what?”

“That you were gay.”

Ned’s jaw dropped, while he began to look almost amused by the unexpected inquiry.

“It’s okay. You can talk about it with me. We have patient-doctor confidentiality. This is a no judgement zone.”

“Uh… Dr. Pheelanruff,” Ned chuckled through his words, “I believe you have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Absolutely not! You’re Gerald Rosewood, the figure skater with amazing hair and twelve national championships to your name!”

“Not… quite. I’m Ned Kaye. I’m a professional wrestler.”

Urias’s eyes narrowed before widening greatly.

“OH!”

He ruffled through his papers to find the correct one, looking flustered as he did so.

“I-uh… I am so sorry, Mr. Kaye! So you are a-”

The Doctor extended the syllable as he searched up and down the page before arriving on the answer.

“Professional wrestler!”

He excitedly exclaimed, pointing at The Notorious One.

“Yes. I believe I just said that.”

“Oh. Well, how- how is it?” Urias leaned to the side, his chair leaning with him as he gave an overly interested look.

“It’s okay, I guess. It could be better. I only really returned to the profession recently and I returned to a company I didn’t expect to be coming back to.”

“Did they treat you badly?”

“No-”

“Try to cut your pay?”

“No, I-”

Urias reads off the paper, “Kidnap your cat and send it to Australia?”

“Well, kinda, but-”

“Did they fire yo-”

“No! I left! I didn’t feel deserving of it!” Ned stood up, looking down at the Doctor who retreated into his seat as much as he could.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, but I… I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Urias sighed, his face sinking as he nodded.

“I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry. I just… I’m not so good at this whole psychiatry thing after all.”

Ned frowns, rolling his eyes a little.

“Look, I’m sure you’re a good doctor, I just don’t think I can talk to you about my problems. They’re not something I like to announce to the world.”

“Well, who can you talk to?”

Ned’s lips parted to speak, but nothing came out. With a sigh, he slumped back into his chair.

“I don’t know to be honest. It’s hard to even talk to my friends about this stuff. You keep these things kind of bottled inside and it’s always hard to draw them out.”

“Well, you can’t fix your problems if you never speak about them.”

“Well, am I really solving my problems here? If you or somebody else tells me how to fix my life, I didn’t fix it, you did. It’s just another failure.”

Urias shook his head, chuckling a bit.

“No, no, no. Absolutely not, Ned. You-uh, you ever have a coach?”

“Once. Or thrice, I suppose.”

“Well, do you think they won those fights you were in?”

Ned looked down, thinking.

“I mean, no, but they helped.”

“Exactly. I can’t fix your problems, buddy. Hell, I can barely fix my own. But you shouldn’t force yourself to power through your issues to avoid feeling weak. Hasn’t it just made you feel worse about yourself?”

“I guess you’re right.”

Ned raised his head, seeing a bright, joyful grin on Pheelanruff’s face.

“Y’know, I think I really underestimated you, Doct-”

Urias, before Ned could finished, pulled several colored sheets of paper out of a bag, raising a bright pink.

“How does this shade of pink make you feel, Ned?”

Well, mostly underestimated.

“Vindicated.”

With a confused glare, Urias looked the sheet of paper before staring back at Ned.

“You got that from this? You really do need therapy!”

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All things must pass.

“There’s only one thing you can expect from Chaotic Inc. and other groups like it: inconsistency. It’s kind of their modus operandi if you overlook their campaigns to overwhelm their opponents through numbers or psychological warfare. This is interesting because they always talk about being simply more powerful than their opponents, but they always rely on each other to assist in subverting fair competition to win. Another inconsistency.”

“I mean, just look at the language and attitude Chaotic Inc. affords me given the circumstances. If I’m facing Ares Creed, he’s a monster who thrives off of perfection and will devour me whole while showing no weakness. He’s my “worst nightmare.” If I beat him? Oh, I just squeaked by some newcomer. I try to ignore Chris Chaos? They say I can’t ignore him and they’ll never stop until they get what they want. I come back to shut him and his cronies up? I’m a big idiot who should have just let Chris Chaos get bored instead of falling for their “master plan.” It’s almost as if Chris and his ilk cannot stand the idea that they’re not right about something, so they just say whatever and hope to God no one puts any real thought to it. It would explain a lot wouldn’t it?”

“It makes one think that the words that come out of these men’s mouths are little more than tools they use to protect their image. And that couldn’t be, could it?”

Kaye’s tone turns harshly sarcastic for his previous sentence. He waits a brief moment before continuing.

“Chris Chaos cares so much about his image that he’ll bark at Hanari to devalue Charlie’s accomplishments to distract from a truth that is most pertinent at this time. Because for as much as they’ll repeat that Nickles lost to Lacklan, they seem to forget that he actually earned his damn title shot. Chris Chaos had to be handed his Universal Title Shot by a retired wrestler. Carnes, that’s your boss. He outranks you, he outclasses you, he calls your shots, and he had to be gifted that victory by Theo Pryce. You can mock Nickles for it all day, but it only makes your leader and, by extension, you more pathetic.”

“So, please Hanari. Keep talking. Keep spouting facts that with any level of examination make your group look worse. Hey, maybe Chaotic Inc. will appreciate it so much that they’ll give you the Peter Gilmour treatment? I might be a lousy trash talker, but at least I know how to talk myself and my partner up without deflecting and ignoring and indulging in the vast amounts of hyperbole that are fundamental to the Chaotic Inc. aesthetic.”

“That all said, no one encapsulates the dire and desperate desire to appear cool more than Peter Gilmour. This man is a former Universal Champion and you wouldn’t be able to tell it if he didn’t parade that accomplishment around everywhere. I’d call him a transitional champion, but that is far too kind. And let’s not forget who took that grand accomplishment from Gilmour 22 days after he had achieved it. None other than his former stablemate, Mr. Chris Chaos. So, why would Gilmour join his faction? Did they patch things up? Had Chris and Peter become friends somehow? Did a common enemy arise? No. Nothing of the sort. Chris created his faction so he’d have some human shields in-between him and those he wronged and Peter joined because he wanted an excuse to hurt people and keep his name relevant. I mean, that’s why he’s teaming up with Hanari here. Got to have that win, right, Peter? The fact that Hanari tortured you on that Warfare at the behest of your old boss is something you’re willing to overlook just because you might get the sweet taste of victory.”

“Peter acts like he has a mountain of pride, but when he has a chance to prove it, to stick it to those who tossed him away like a bad habit, he shuts up. It’s one of the only times he ever does. He’d rather assist the man who betrayed him at the snap of two fingers than possibly stand up for his own pride. Does this surprise anyone? It shouldn’t. Y’know, I think I undersold my personal disappointment in Peter previously, because he can wrestle, he can do well, but he allows himself to ally with garbage that recieves acolades in the hopes some scraps of glory fall to him. I know they called it “probation,” Gilmour, but let’s call it by what it really was. They showed you that you were totally expendable to the them. The same way they treat me or Nickles and the same way Chaos treats everyone who isn’t Chris Chaos. You want pride, Gilmour? You want praise? Earn it.”

“This is the “team” that wants to push Charlie and myself into the dirt. Paranoid opportunists who will throw any connection away for the chance at success. You know how many people like that get to have their ways on the indies? Not many. Becuase the independent wrestling scene isn’t a bunch of scattered competitors stepping on one another for the eye of a big company. It’s a fraternity, a fellowship of people who love this industry and put on matches that will go remembered for ages amongst the small audiences who witness them. And that fellowship recognizes, respects, and supports one another through the smooth waters and the rough all the same. So, when I walk into that ring, I know Charlie has my back. I know he is my aly and he is aware of the very same. We don’t have to be friends to be brothers of a sort. Charlie has made mistakes. He’s done things I think no man should do, but he hasn’t done them out of weakness, but for a desire to be stronger. This man is a walking legend of his craft and I’m happy to help him write his legacy on your bruised backs.You two have poured so much poison and vitriol out of your beings, but it can’t amount to much when faced with honor and dignity and brotherhood.”

“You two might be established teammates, but you can’t trust each other at the end of the day. My partner on Wednesday knows where I stand and how I fight and that is a massive problem for both of you. I’ve waited weeks to come here and show you all what Chaotic Inc. is truly made of and with a breath full of fire, I plan to burn your straw palace down. Expect my all, expect righteous fury the likes of you can only imagine because I am not scared to bleed or break or hurt. Because a drop of blood for an ocean of justice is a trade I’m willing to make.”

“My tide has come in, gentlemen. Pray you aren’t swallowed by the waves.”

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"You can't run from yourself."