RECAP! Iggy, the viral remnant of the malicious Engineer that once controlled Corey Smith, has discovered that he has the power to alter Corey's memories...for the better! Or so he feels. He has already made Corey forget any memory he had of being The Engineer. Which begs the question, what's next?

Lights played across the anatomy of Corey Smith’s brain creating a life painting of color, each bright flash a memory, an act, an impulse, distilled into a kaleidoscopic tapestry on a screen. He wasn’t sure if it was beautiful or reductive. Maybe both, that the sum total of an entire life’s experience could be represented in such a way. There WAS a sort of beauty in it, he supposed. But it was also a merciless reminder of the crudity of being. This is what we’re boiled down to. This….

Corey.

His name was spoken, dragging him back into the here and now. Dr. Wu’s soft, neutral expression contrasted with Christian’s tense one. It dawned on him that it was Christian who had spoken.

Are you still there?

Dr. Wu’s clinic. A Tuesday. Feet firmly planted on the ground. Corey returned to them. Yeah, yeah. I was just...daydreaming. The implication of Christian’s question wasn’t lost on him. Are you having an episode? Do you feel okay? and ultimately, Please don’t die on me.

I’m sorry Dr. Wu, please continue.

Of course. She nodded, and tapped a finger to the imaging of Corey’s brain. Thankfully, I don’t have much more to say. Everything came out normal. The only damage that was noted was what was already present from the stroke. And from what I understand that wasn’t stopping you. She offered him a small smile. You’re the poster child for neuroplasticity.

But then why is he having memory loss issues? Christian interjected, shooting Corey a worried glimpse.

At this point, there doesn’t seem to be a neurobiological cause for what Corey is experiencing. Plus, with the areas of memory loss being so focused….the ever diplomatic Dr. Wu paused to put a fresh coat of paint on the rest of her thought….it may be that the issue is more psychological than biological in nature.

Corey grabbed Christian’s hand. See honey, I’m just crazy, not MORE brain damaged!

Christian didn’t look amused, but Dr. Wu proceeded before he could retort.

However, in my professional opinion, seeing as how there are so many unknown factors at play here, I would still recommend you take a leave of absence. At least until we can get a better handle on this and run some more tests.

I had a feeling you were going to say that. His gaze drifted back to the explosion of colors playing out in his brain. Repression.

I’m sorry?

Corey retrained on the doctor. Could it be repression? Or some kind of PTSD thing? Like, how sometimes people who experience something really terrible just make themselves forget it?

But if that was true why did it take so long for you to forget? Christian gave Corey’s hand a little squeeze, an implicit reminder that he wanted to get to the bottom of this just as much as Corey did.

Unfortunately, psychiatry is not my area of expertise. Which is why I would refer you to a specialist. Unless you already have a psychiatrist?



Corey almost choked for the thought of it. Hells to the naw, Dr. Wu. I will take that referral!

A Little Later….

Christian and Corey sat huddled over twin steaming mugs of coffee. Corey also had a half eaten scone in front of him. Christian still seemed taut with concern as he absent mindedly swirled his coffee into a tiny eddy with the stirrer.

Your coffee’s gonna throw up, you keep spinning it like that.

With a good natured but wearied sigh, he put the stirrer down on the napkin. Corey, I wish you would take all of this more seriously.

I’m trying! But...look...he takes Christians hand in his, pulling it to the center of the table. He’d long since gotten over the initial fright and insecurity of PDA, now reveling in his opportunity to announce their relationship to the world. Hey, Corey’s gay and that’s okay! Or something like that. At any rate, he caressed Christian’s hand with his thumb. I’m not really seeing much of a down side here. The doc says it’s not something serious…

They don’t know 100% that it’s not something serious.

Okay, they’re 95% sure it’s not something serious. But more importantly, you guys have told me how awful The Engineer was. And you showed me the clips to prove it. Have you ever considered that maybe I’m better off not remembering? I mean, if you could just wake up one day and the memory of the worst moment of your life was just gone…. Corey stopped short, mouth getting way, way ahead of his cognition.

….would I want that? Christian intones, a bit icily. His hand goes a little slack in Corey’s. No. Not ever.

I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking…

I know you weren’t. And I’m giving you a pass because of it. Christian turns away, eyes finding the coffee in his cup. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t have the right to judge you for it… The surface tension of the liquid in Christian’s cup stills just enough to provide him with a paltry reflection of himself. Maybe part of me DOES want to be able to forget too and I’m just jealous.

Corey allowed the silence to take hold for a moment, respecting the gravity of Christian’s pain. But then, Corey squeezed Christian’s hand again, and brought his other hand up and over it, encapsulating him. I know you’re just worried about me. I understand. But I swear, Christian, I’m feeling the best I’ve felt since I came back from the stroke. Like something bleak and terrible has been scoured from my soul and I’ve been set free to fly.

“A bird never wants a cage.”

Hmmm?

Something my grandfather used to say. He liked to move around a lot and he used to say that all the time to justify never sitting still. Seemed appropriate, I guess. Christian chances a look at Corey again. I’ll just try to be happy for you, okay? But if something seems “off”, if something…

You’ll be the first to know. Corey’s face radiated happiness, like a new sun speaking greetings to the cosmos. I love you.

Within: The Clean Room

See Dexter! You big STUPID! I was right! Taking away Corey’s bad memories made him happy! SO SHUT UP!



Iggy, still clad in his regal attire from his last intracranial outing in Corey’s head, announces this to a blistering white room, barren of any defining features. Yet, his voice doesn’t even echo here. Instead, it just seems to succumb to the forces of silence, drowned and dismantled by that which is unseen beyond these painfully pristine walls.

Actually, scratch that. There is something here. Two somethings. Two Engineer’s heads impaled on pikes to be exact. Dexter’s decapitated head has been mounted such that the sharp end of the wooden pole is pushing out his empty eye socket. The Engineer is similarly impaled, his flowing blond locks now matted with scabrous dried blood as the very tip of the pike peeks out the top of his skull. Iggy walks up to Dexter’s head and pries down his jaw.

“Yes Iggy, you were right about everything! You’re the best friend Corey’s ever had!” Iggy takes a poor shot at aping Dexter’s voice as he works his bottom jaw up and down like a ventriloquist dummy.

Then, withdrawing his hand, he smiles coyly and his face reddens. Oh geeze, I don’t know if I’m his BEST-BEST friend...but that sure is nice of you to say.

The view hard cuts to The Engineer’s slack, lifeless face. “But Iggy! When are you going to send Corey on his BIG ADVENTURE?”

Oh, oh! Soon enough. But I figure I should help him forget one more sad thing before he goes. He snaps his fingers. And I think I know just which one. Iggy’s thin lips crawl up into an eerie, uncertain smile as he pictures a third head on a pike.



Back to the Engineer’s ghastly remains. “Oh yeah! Lux, I can’t stand that b-word!”

And then, Dexter’s head chimes in via Iggy. “Me either! I hate that b-word too!”

Iggy smashes a fist into his open palm. Yeah, what a total b-word! I’m much better than Lux! And all she does now is make Corey sad because she up and died.

“Oh, yeah, my bad.” The Engineer’s head sags with a disgusting squelch.

You rang?

A lone voice calls out. Iggy startles, sucking in a breath and wheeling around. The woman he saw cut a defiant figure, her face betraying a cool, practiced malice. She unsheathed her sword smoothly, causing a dull singing sound in the midst of this profound absence.

Lux….?

Real Time

Your view glides in, top down on an empty warehouse full of cardboard cut outs. Closing in, you notice Corey Smith walking amongst the cut outs, and that each one is a facsimile of someone in the Hall of Legends. Squaring up on Corey now, he seems...excited? Well, perhaps that’s not quite the word. "Eager" is more on the cash money.

Oh boy, CENTURION! What a treat, what an absolute treat. He throws his arms out to emphasize his enthusiasm. What you been up to, sir? Don’t say anything. It’s a rhetorical question I’m about to answer for you.

I know one thing you’ve been up to though! Robbin’ that cradle that’s what. Look at you still gettin’ your freak on with a much younger Ruby. And here I didn’t think it was gonna last. Corey shakes his head in self reproach. Boy do I have egg on my face. As for my personal feelings on that, I think I’ll let Alexis Rose from the comedy hit Schitt’s Creek elucidate it thusly!



Ahhh, I’m just kidding. I know you guys pass the “half plus seven” rule. Google it if you don’t know.

Corey walks and talks, and you begin to notice that each of the cardboard cut out legends he passes has something written on their forehead in black marker.

Trax: sp?
Sebastian Duke: Thad adopted?
Doc D’Ville: Who?

But you know what you don’t pass, Centy? You don’t pass the “Make Corey forget about what a douche I was last year” test because YES WE ARE RELITIGATING THAT TAG MATCH WITH DOLLY!

Oh I can hear you puff, and groan, and roll your eyes from here. “Old news!” he says. “Get over it!” he says. “You think I should worry about this mole?” he says! Yes, Cent, yes you should if the border is irregular.

And speaking of irregular, irregular is a man who prides himself on his liberal bonafides telling a confused teenage girl he wants to PUNISH her. And why? Because he took it upon himself to virtue signal on her behalf when he didn’t have to and all he ended up with was a pretty damn cool pay per view moment. Cent, you lost nothing in that situation you PUT YOURSELF IN, except for some time and that cloying unclean feeling that comes with touching Michael Graves.


Gator: Alli-
Steve Jason: Beat him at Words with Friends once
Chronic Chris Page: Origins Part 97-Please just end our suffering

Suffice it to say, I've been wanting to get you one on one for a while. But hey, tell ya what. I'll start by saying one nice thing about you before I start running a train on what's left of your XWF career.

No, I don't think you're boring. You're a guy. A dude. A human being. Not a devilish psychiatrist. Not a time traveler. Not an alien. You're just a man. And that's ok. Because I think the freedom to be your authentic self (unless your authentic self is a god damned Nahtzee) is one of the highlights of being in the XWF. And you, Centy, are your authentic self, never caving to the pressure of being someone you're not. Kudos.

But now's the part where Shining Time Station goes off the rails.

Why are you still here?

Jayzon Williamz: Fite me!
James Raven: Also fite me!
Superballs: Best. Name. Ever.

And I don’t mean in the metaphysical sense. I mean in the literal sense. Why are you, Centurion, still competing in the XWF? Here’s how I see it. There’s only three real positions you can hold on the XWF roster: climbing, at the top, aaaaand….

Corey stops at a cut out of Centurion. Scrawled across his forehead is a single word.

Centurion: Languishing.

Yes that’s right! A five dollar word to describe, dare I say it, a one cent concept. Ya doin’ nada, Centy. Bupkis. And yeah, yeah, I saw that Tag Team Championship match, but who are you kidding? You’re just random filler contenders until the pay per view because you don’t stand a chance in hell against The Bastards. I mean, no offense to Rubes, she’ll probably do great! But you, Cent? Robbie’s gonna cut you down until you’re fun size, eat you, and then 18 to 24 hours later (factoring in humidity, prior dairy intake, and caffeine consumption) take a UGWC sized dump.

That reminds me. UGWC. That seems to be where you’ve been putting the bulk of your energy, isn’t it? Yeah, while you treat the XWF like some cheap gig economy side job. Point is, it’s pretty clear where your heart and your head have been for months, and it ain’t here. Now, I can’t blame you. I’m sure the level of competition over there is a little less….daunting. But you ain’t HERE, Centurion.

So who do you think wants this win more? Huh? Who’s hungrier here? You, who seems to have confused the greatest promotion in the entire world with some McJob, or me, the kid who’s been fighting fist tooth and nail to prove to the world that a burst blood vessel in my brain is now my bitch? Say that one five times fast.

It’s me, Cent. Of course it’s me. My laser focus on improvement and recovery beats your shiftless, aimless, passing fart in the wind of a career here any day. And do you know the real pisser of it all? I didn’t chose this match because you were the capstone of my grand return. Betsy Granger was my capstone. You? You’re just the bonus round. You’re just me playing clean up, baby. And would YOU even deny that that’s the way it should be?

Centurion, I picked you because I wanted the chance to put my foot in your ass for what you had to say about Dolly. I picked you because why not bag a member of the vaunted Hall of Legends on my way to Leap of Faith. Even if your display in the Hall is getting a bit…

Corey pretends to wipe something off the Centurion cut out's shoulder.

…dusty.

But just for the hell of it, let’s play Devil’s Advocate. Let’s say that by some cosmic twist of fate, some wrinkle in the time line, some gross upset in the established order of things, you DO win this match.

What the hell would you even do with it?

Seriously, what would you do with that insane degree of momentum? My guess? Fuck all. Or maybe you’d bag it up and take it with you to UGWC, squandering it on competition that would piss trickle their pants the moment they set foot in the door here. Long story short, you’d do nothing with that prodigious feather in your cap. And I think you know that. You’ve already proven that you’re not Universal Champion material, and that you haven’t been for like 20 years. Not even beating me can change that. So what IS your motivation here? Pride? Personal glory? Ego? Cool. Because MY FIGHT trumps all of that shit.

I clawed my way out of the void to get where I am now. And I will be GOD DAMNED if Centurion is the thing that stops me now. And, again, let’s be honest. There is not a bone in your body that thinks you got this. Not one. I don’t care what comes out of your mouth. I don’t care what you claim. You know what I can do. You’ve SEEN it, up close and personal. You don’t got this. You DON’T. And you know how I know? Because James Raven didn’t have this on lock down either and you’re about one half a James Raven on a good day.

Tell me I’m wrong.

Corey looks back at cardboard Centy’s face.

Hell of a smile though. You BleachBright every day? He whistles and walks off camera. The camera tracks him for a bit, until it settles on one last cardboard cut out.

Fuzz: Meh.