Ned leaned forward, hovering slightly over a table sat between him and a figure sat across from him. On the table between them lay a chessboard, a few moves already played. Ned rested his head against his palm, deep in thought. It had been so long since he had played chess and playing with this opponent was certainly special. Having been more of a nerd during his younger years, Kaye always liked stepping back. Not because he ever truly cut those activities from his life, but because they brought a unique comfort. And in this dark room, he found the black pieces under his command which suited his reactive preferences well. His opponent raised a hand, moving his second knight from its starting position.

5. Kc3

Ned knew several responses, but deciding upon one was his dilemma. After some careful consideration, he responded with a deceptively simple reply.

5. … a6

“What were you looking for?”

His opponent spoke in a soft voice, breaking Ned’s silent contemplation.

“Honestly, just a good developing move. I know we’re still in a fairly standard opening sequence, but I still had a few options.”

“Not what I meant.”

Ned tilted his head slightly, not entirely understanding as the figure made its next move.

6. f3

“What were you looking for out in the desert?”

“Oh,” Ned sighed, chuckling a bit while he leaned back into his chair. “I’m not sure even I know for sure. I think… I think I just wanted to be certain about something again and feeling closer to my roots always helps. Maybe I really just wanted to prove I could still fight like how I did when I was younger.”

There was a silence between the two that shattered under the gentle words of Ned’s opponent.

“Can you?”

Ned hesitated, unsure of how to answer, looking at the board with an uneasy glare.

“I…”

---

November 20th, 2020

“Doctor Pheelanruff?”

Nate Kaye held the phone close to his ear, hunched forward upon a short stool in The Notorious Gym. Ned had said he wanted to go get some training with a few of his old trainers, but that he’d still catch his therapy sessions before heading off to Arizona. Knowing his little brother, though, he was sure that Ned was perfectly capable of just darting off and doing what he felt like. It was frustrating, but he knew how Ned processed stress. And that wasn’t very well at all. The doctor’s booming voice catapulted through the phone, causing Nate’s ears to ring and forcing him to put some distance between his phone’s screen and his cheek.

“Oh, Nate! How’s it going?”

Grimacing at the pleasantries, Nate managed to force out a halfway mannered reply, sticking a pinky in his ear as if it would actually remove some of the bouncing echoes from his skull.

“It’s… fine. I was just trying to check up on Ned’s progress and see how today’s session went.”

“Oh! Well, it didn’t! Ned said he had some urgent work business that he had to attend to. I was hoping he wouldn’t cancel, but he insisted. I had a whole musical number and everything, too!”

Nearly punching a nearby wall, Nate barely managed to keep a calm tone verbally. He hated getting this angry, which was an issue that typically compounded itself. Noticing some stares at his increasing intensity from the gym-goers, he begrudgingly walked back to his office, out of the prying eyes of his brother’s gym. It felt so typical of Ned. A man who could nobly slave away to help his community, but couldn’t bother to just stick to one of the only requests of his own flesh and blood.

“Hey, would you be interested in it? It’s a Les Mis thing! I even bought costumes!”

“No thanks. Just, please call me next time Ned cancels a session on you.”

“Uh, sure. I just thought he would’ve told you. I mean, he already paid the cancellation fee, so it’s no sweat off of my back and you should be getting a refund in a few days. It’s really not a huge deal if you ask me. The kid could use some fresh air. Especially after his birthday.”

“Birthday?” Nate squinted in genuine confusion, “What happened on his birthday?”

---

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

It was the heartbeats that gave Ned hope. Even past the strange feeling of familiarity.

They were a gentle melody that reminded him that his mother was going to be okay. She had a chance to make it. He felt a tightness in his chest, anxious of the worst despite his attempts to cling to the specter of optimism. He gulped, head cloudy from the sterile air surrounding him and his hospital bed-bound mother. She had exemplified an emotional strength he had been so fortunate to be taught, but that only amplified the rage that lingered within him. Knowing Chaotic Inc’s torment of her just to get into Ned’s head. So, he focused on a single thought: stopping those who would exploit and hurt others. It was a heroic, if somewhat vengeful, thought that was quickly interrupted as Ned’s mother began to move, finally waking. He sighed with relief, nearly overcome by tears, calling for the nurse quickly. As they tended to her, Ned focused on her warm smile, that tightness in his chest beginning to dissipate. That’s when he heard her whisper to one of the nurses. A whisper that made time feel as though it was moving at half the speed.

“Could you tell me who that is?”

Ned felt his heart strain. It was him. Her second son.

“...who that is?”

How could she not know?

He reached out for her, but the room seemed to grow, pulling Ned farther and farther away from her. He sprinted towards her, but it just wasn’t enough as she kept fading from his view, disappearing into the distance as he was left alone, right next to his hospital chair. Ned turned around.

He was in The Notorious Gym. Empty. Lifeless. As dust-ridden as the day he found it. Standing in the center of this decrepit, decaying emblem that Ned held with such pride was his brother.

“Nate?”

His brother turned to face him.

“You know who I am, right? Right?”

“Of course, I do, Ned.”

Ned began to feel a wave of relief that was cut short.

“You’re the one who abandoned us when we needed you. You let Mom get kidnapped and badmouthed and hurt and what did you do? Nothing. Where were you when Dad died? Or when we were hurting because you had spiraled into your selfish little depression? No wonder Mom forgot about you. I wish I could.”

“Nate…”

Ned dropped to his knees, his emotions pulling him to the ground as tears dripped from his eyes. That’s when he heard it. Ethan’s voice. His best friend.

“Ned… help….”

Ethan hacked and coughed as he struggled to get his words out. That’s when Ned looked up. Ethan’s hands were bound behind his back, the bindings stuck to a hook a held him dangling in the air, face covered in crimson. Drips of red that poured from his friend’s face began to form something darker. A gory silhouette. That’s when he began to laugh, cackling with a disturbing intensity that froze Ned in place. It was all happening again. Seeing the twisted visage of The Engineer haunt him. He just wanted it to stop, but the laughing got louder and louder until-

---

Ned woke up.

His head shot up, hitting the roof of his cheap rental car and causing Ned to curse. His phone was ringing right in his ear as he began to wake. Rubbing the sore spot on his scalp, he wondered why he had bothered to sleep in a car again when he could easily afford a motel. But he knew deep down why it had to be like this. He wanted to get back to his roots and he thought emulating his lifestyle as an idiot teenager might help. Frankly, even breaking it down in the moment, he felt fairly stupid about it. But he wasn’t going to give up on it. He had to rediscover why he deserved to be remembered. Why now was his time. He at least needed something to believe in.

Right now, however, what he needed most of all was some goddamn quiet. Answering the phone, he was greeted by a less than enthusiastic Nate.

“Lying to me and your therapist. That’s a bit much, even for you.”

Ned sighed, rubbing his temples as he sighed.

“Nice to hear from you, too, Nate.”

“Would’ve been nicer if you had just been upfront with where you were going.”

“You and Urias were gonna worry. I just didn’t want you two to-”

Interrupted by a large groan from his brother, Ned already began to formulate a response.

“Goddamn it, Ned! You’re not going to those freaks in the middle of nowhere are you?”

“They’re not freaks-”

“They’re psychotic! I have no fucking clue how you don’t see how stupid of an idea this is!”

“Nate-”

“Who do you think you’re gonna impress?”

“Nate, let me-”

“You don’t know what those carnies are capable o-”

“Nate, let me do this!”

Ned passionately yelled into his phone, shaking somewhat.

“I need to do this.”

After a tense pause, his brother finally relented.

“Can you just… tell me next time? So everybody back home doesn’t have to worry that you got shot and dumped on the side of the road for several months?”

“I’ll try.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you tried a bit harder.”

Noticing his younger brother grow silent, Nate exhaustedly responded to his own comment.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. I’m gonna be back after High Stakes, alright? I just… I need to figure something out first.”

“What are you trying to figure out?”

“I need to figure that out, too.”

“Smartass,” Nate chuckled somewhat into the phone, “just don’t figure yourself into a grave out there.”

“Of course. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You damn well better.”

A small chime sounded to signify the call’s conclusion. With a deep breath, Ned got out of the backseat of the car and prepared to drive onward into the Arizona desert.

---

---

---

I’d Rather Be Lonely Than Let Myself Down

“What makes an icon? A legend? A name you always remember?”

“Some would say that it’s the actions one takes. Others might claim novelty, bringing up uniqueness as a quality that calls out to people. Talent goes a long way in earning recognition; I think many would agree. And, of course, substance and integrity matters a great deal.”

“But Robbie Bourbon, quite spectacularly, proved time and time again that you don’t actually need any of this to be widely recognized. You just need to be the greatest salesman and eventually snake oil will be in high demand. And if Bourbon is one thing exemplified, it’s a salesman. The marketing, the quick quotables, the insatiable desire to siphon money from every last person who even slightly thinks highly of you. Robbie rode the hype of his own popularity like a wrestling Paris Hilton and most days, I’d just let him be. Most of the time, I’d shrug and ignore him. But Robbie isn’t selling his own name brand anymore. He’s selling BoB.”

“And why wouldn’t he? BoB allows Rob to both sell an image of success to people and simultaneously help convince them that they’ve gained success by association. You see good people like Barney Green and Jenny Myst and, sure, they’ve got imperfections, but they’re nothing like the power hungry BoB elites who will interfere, harm, and recruit anything and anyone to keep that brand in everyone’s mind. And for a while, BoB had grabbed hold of three belts here and cackled themselves out of breath in their secret lairs until their leader fell. And now, just recently, Thunder Knuckles, was dethroned. And now, Bobby, it’s you and your faction’s hopes for Barney Green to grab onto the Universal Title, but here’s a newsflash: he doesn’t need any of you. If he wins that belt, it won’t be because of a loan or a robot or some licensed mask you put over his face. He’ll do it in spite of your organization, not because of it. That makes you, effectively, the last pillar of BoB’s championship holdings. And since last year I’ve been waiting to expose you or what you are and you’ve only gotten worse since.”

“See, Robbie, you’ve got raw strength. You’ve got the confidence. You’ll probably get a bigger picture than me on the show poster. But you don’t have a bigger spirit or character. You’re a third rate con-man with a fourth rate entourage in an era where grifters are about to be thrown out. I can’t wait for you to draw some crude nonsense on a t-shirt and sell it online for 80 bucks about how easily you’ll beat me. I can’t wait for you to wear it. I can’t wait to see your face when the realization hits you that the belt you’re holding isn’t for those looking to profit endlessly off their image. Do you know how many times I’ve fought to get a title? To win that belt you couldn’t give a rat’s ass about? It’s more times than you’ve ever thanked an employee at a fast food restaurant, that’s for sure. And when I walk into High Stakes, I intend to walk out and give that belt one thing you couldn’t muster on your best day:”

“Heart.”

---

---

---

Getting out of his car, Ned took gentle steps towards a small town of tents surrounding a makeshift wrestling ring as the heat bore down upon them all, the dust forming small clouds to obscure this strange oasis of entertainment. With an exasperated breath, Ned knew he had made it to his destination: The only indie he could legally compete in under his XWF contract.

Desert Only Deathmatches.

“Howdy, stranger,” greeted a man with a mop and bucket passing Ned by.

“What brings you?”

Ned swallowed his fears and discomfort at the excessively dangerous look of this place and spoke four words he knew would set him on the path to victory.

“I’m looking to wrestle.”

TO BE CONTINUED

---

"You can't run from yourself."