The Story So Far...

And NOW, the adventure continues...

***

NKWC puzzles looking at his 2003 Motorola Razr.

“But, see, Mark Flynn… This doesn’t make any sense…”

NKWC glares at the OCW Piledriver Results summary (for fans that love wrestling but also get vertigo from watching television).

“Look at this. The show claims to be taped...”



“But then it cuts to a live feed of the match?”





“So, Dolly Waters claims the whole show is taped, but OCW claims the match is live. Is that correct?”

NK scrolls up and down on the results to check the verbiage… and nods.

“Yes, it is as I say! So, do they pre-record segments, then tape the matches live at OCW Studio? And then tape the live show to air later? Why wouldn’t they just air the show live?”

And for that matter! …Mark Flynn, are you listening?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

NK holds up the screen to Flynn’s screaming face.

“Mark Flynn, pay attention. Dolly Waters stuck around after our match to cut a promo on Thaddeus Duke. Like she had nowhere to be at all! And then, just 10 minutes later, Here she is on the OCW Studio on their live feed, halfway across the country!”

NK scratches his head.

“It’s a puzzlement, Mark Flynn. Perhaps I don’t understand tape delay? I’ve heard television cameras add 10 pounds, do they also subtract seven hours?”

“MA… MA-MA-MA-MA-...!”

NK looks over at Flynn, who is terrified, looking straight down at the ground beneath them.

NK gets a big smile on his face, amazed.

“Mark Flynn! Be honest! Is this your first time parachuting at 10,000 feet?”

The camera zooms out. Flynn and NK are both hovering through the air on parachutes, floating on the breeze, thousands of feet in the air.

They had just been teleported to the middle of the California sky by Arcana, after breaking into Jim Caedus’ home to break the world record for Closest Unsuccessful Pin Attempt.

Turns out “Jim Caedus” was actually a dog, made to look like Jim Caedus. So… the old record still stands.

Regardless, NK has already pulled their cords, and they now gracefully descend to Californian earth below…

Well, NK looks graceful. Flynn is having a panic attack, desperately holding onto his ‘chute.

“OH GOD! HELP ME!”

“Flynn, I told you we needed parachutes! What did you think would happen?”

“TEN SECONDS AGO, WE WERE ON THE GROUND. I THOUGHT YOU WERE AN IDIOT. A STUPID IDIOT.”

“...Well, now my feelings are hurt. I would hope you’d have more faith in my safety precautions.”

“MA-MA-MA… MAGIC IS REAL!”

NK holds up a finger, with his Motorola held to his face. “Hold on, I’m making a call.”

“WI-WI-WIZARD! JIM CAEDUS IS DATING A WIZARD!”

NK hisses, holding the phone from his face. “I’M ON THE PHONE, MARK FLYNN.”

NK returns the phone to his ear. No ring. He ends the call and checks the screen.

“Hmm. Not the best reception.”

NK holds his phone lower, so it’s a foot closer to the ground… now at an elevation of 9,000 feet instead of 9,001… Still only two bars. NK tsks-tsks at his phone.

“Mark Flynn, you’re an alphabet boy, perhaps you know. When will your government-mandated 5G disease towers provide cellular reception at parachuting height? I would get so much more done if I could multitask as I fall from the skies.”

“WE WERE MAGICKED UP HERE!”

NK sighs, exasperatedly. “Mark Flynn, when you’re done having your moment, please feel free to join me as I do YOUR job.”

A third bar!

“Success!” NK presses the talk button. He already had obtained Dolly Waters’ number via spoofing application on Corey Smith’s phone weeks ago during the lead-up to WarGames… It was about to come in handy.

“...IS JIM CAEDUS A DOG?!?”

“No, it was an illusory spell, obviously. Arcana explained as much. Try and keep up, Mark Flynn.”

“WHY DON’T YOU CARE WE GOT MAGICKED?!?”

NK rolls his eyes. “It’s 2021, Mark Flynn. Some days are going to be tough. Some days you’re going to be subjected to magical beings. No matter what, bring a parachute for when the floor falls out from underneath you.”

On the sixth ring, a voice is heard.

“Hey y’all! You’ve reached the voicemail box of Dolly Waters. I ain’t pickin’ up numbers I don’t recognize cuz… duh.”

“Yes, quite understandable.”

“But, if ya need help, we have a recovery program at Coreytopia. We can handle intake 24/7 and we’d love to meet ya, hear yer story and do what we can to help ya on yer journey! No appointment necessary! If you’re lookin’ fer bookin’ information, please contact Ari Stevenson. He ain’t my agent, but he’ll text me and I’ll follow up wicha! Thanks y’all!”

NK takes a deep breath and centers himself.

“Witness me, Mark Flynn! The key to leaving a good voicemail is to INTRODUCE YOURSELF, REMIND THEM OF YOUR PREVIOUS CONNECTION and ESTABLISH YOUR INTENT.”

***BEEEEEEP***

“안녕하십니까! This is North Korean War Criminal, calling on behalf of myself and Mark Flynn. You may remember us from fighting you yesterday? We were hoping to schedule a visit to Coreytopia. But, after listening to your voicemail, we’ll be headed your way now. 좋은 하루 되세요!”

“MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGICK.”

*click*

***

We cut to Conservative Morning Radio Host, Glenn Beck. Sipping at a thermos of coffee. Talking into a microphone. He’s in a sound booth, with a beautiful view of the California skyline, on the 39th floor of BlazeMedia’s new West Coast office.

“And I tell ya, the thing about this California Recall Election that really sticks in my craw. LIBERALS are claiming that a recall election would make us look vulnerable to our adversaries around the world. And that conservatives demanding Governor Newsome’s removal are making this country weak!”

Beck pounds the table as he speaks to punctuate his point.

“Let me tell you something, snowflakes! The America I know is strong DESPITE YOU. And I’m confident that there’s not a CHANCE… NO CHANCE!... that our adversaries, far or NEAR, are coming anywhere near California. And the reason for that is…”

As Beck winds himself up to a fiery right-wing crescendo, something out the window catches Beck’s eye.

A floating… North Korean military officer in a parachute. Beck is stunned, mouth agape.

The officer is… looking around… kind of bored. In a moment, accidentally, they make eye contact.

NK smiles and waves. He can barely be heard through the glass window... “Hello, Glenn Beck! Keep up the good work”

Beck watches until the totalitarian military officer fades below his eyeline.

Glenn Beck… opens his thermos.

Pours out his coffee onto the floor.

Then leans into his microphone.

“...Um… As I was saying, I’m officially recommending that all my listeners ‘Vote No’ at the upcoming recall election…”

***
Several Hours Later (and after one very impressive coordinated tandem-landing directly into NK’s limo through the sunroof), Kato has finished driving them to Florida… More specifically, Coreytopia.

NK looks at his car window, once again taking in the wonderful spirit of the commune mansion. It aligns so clearly with Glorious Leader’s utopian vision. A place where the workers may congregate in peace for the betterment of themselves and of the world.

Flynn is still visibly shaken from their impromptu morning sky-dive, holding onto his seatbelt like it’s the only thing keeping him on terra firma.

NK shakes his head.

“Flynn, you’re comfortable fighting time-travelers, aliens and robots. You coached me to defeat Tommy Wish, and you claim he is an ageless, shapeshifting Time Lord. Why do wizards freak you out so much?”

Flynn peers at NK as if he’s asked a ridiculous question.

“First off, Tommy Wish was a 40 year old black man in 2012, then in 2014, he turned into a 17 year old white boy and now in 2021, he’s a 320-pound foot fetishist. You explain that to me without referencing Time Lords.”

“Second of all, time-travelers have joints you can break! Aliens have anatomy you can exploit and organs you can punch! Robots have logical loops and are programmed with Asimov’s laws so if you point out unenforceable inconsistencies in their code, their heads explode.”

“Wizards are WIZARDS! They can teleport you 10,000 feet in the air with a word or explode your bones with a thought! You tell ME how to out-wrestle someone who can turn their arms into snakes or turn their blood into… MORE SNAKES!”

“Flynn, that's a harmful rhabdophobic stereotype."

"...What the fuck is rhabdophobic?"

"Intolerance toward wizards. I think we’ve found a…” NK puts his fingers up into air quotes. “‘Tolerance Blindspot’ for you. Wizards are no more dangerous than your average XWF competitor. They’re just like you and me. They put their wrestling tights on one leg at a time, even if they dress themselves via telepathy. The average wizard is just trying to clock-in-clock-out, make it to the weekend and spend more time with their children-slash-magical-familiars, just like everyone else. They don’t even attack no-magics like us at a higher frequency than the violent crime rate.”

NK pauses, then elaborates.

“The real problem with their community is all the rampant Wizard-on-Wizard violence.”

"...Okay, if "rhabdophobia" is a thing? That comment feels rhabdophobic."

Kato elegantly glides the limo to a halt, just outside the front gates. He puts the limo in park and speaks over his shoulder.

“We’ve arrived. If you need my services, I shall be but a phone call away.”

Kato leans into the passenger seat and retrieves two paper bags.

“I’ve packed each of you a sack lunch. You’ll find one PB&J sandwich, sliced diagonally into two halves, one bag of carrot sticks and one Capri Sun in each package. Dolly Waters may offer to feed you, in which case, you can have your meal later in the day as a snack. But I formally recommend that in such a case, you in turn offer her half-a-sandwich to return the kindness.”

NK looks at the lunch bag on the left, labelled ‘For the Commander :)’. The bag on the right says ‘Coach Flynn’.

“Did you cut the crusts off mine, Kato?”

“Of course, sir.”

“And you left the crusts in the bag?”

“As always, sir.”

“Exquisite.”

“Finally…”

Kato again reaches over to the passenger seat and retrieves…

An Edible Arrangement. A large plastic-wrapped basket of fruit.

“Kato! For dessert! A delicious treat!”

Kato reels it back before NK can tear into it.

“Commander! This is for Corey Smith!”

NK crosses his arms at the audacity of Kato buying an edible arrangement that wasn’t for him.

“If Dolly permits you a visitation, please leave this with him.”

NK scoffs.

“Corey Smith will be fine, Kato. He is the embodiment of the Glorious Leader’s Vision, the ultra-rare rose grown in the litter box that is American soil. In fact, it would not surprise me if he shared lineage with our Glorious Leader!”

Kato hesitates at offering a retort.

“...I’m sure you’re right, Commander. But, just in case, please keep it wrapped and pristine for Miss Waters to inspect.”

NK’s hand hovers over the fruit basket… His fingers wiggle excitedly.

WHAP! Flynn slaps his hand away and nabs the basket. NK hisses like a cat at this assault.

“No stress, Kato. I’ll keep an eye on the... diplomatic offering.”

Kato sighs with relief.

“I didn’t feel appropriate recommending that myself, but I concur, that is the best choice.”

NK pouts and opens the car door. Flynn and NK both make moves for the gate.

Kato suddenly remembers and calls after them!

“OH! UM! COMMANDER! IF YOU COULD PLEASE OBTAIN MORE OF THOSE PACKAGED CRACKER SQUARES THEY HAVE AT THE COREYTOPIA MEDICAL TENTS! I HAD SEVERAL AFTER THEY PUMPED THE GASOLINE OUT OF MY STOMACH AN-”

The car door slams shut.

Kato sighs.

His belly rumbles.

“I wish, only once, that the Commander didn’t insist on eating the crusts after I cut them off…”

***

It’s been much less lively at Coreytopia. Not relaxed, by any means. It’s actually never been tenser. But it’s also much less lively.

Obviously, many residents have something gnawing at the back of their minds while their leader is sitting in a hospital bed hooked up to machines.

***BRRRREEEEEP***

“Rhonda, we’ve got action at the front gate.”

Rhonda hasn’t been bothered on her walkie-talkie for weeks now. It’s mostly been commune residents stopping by her office, asking if she’s heard anything and how she’s doing.

She hasn’t heard anything, she says to the first. And she doesn’t answer the second question.

She presses down the button on the ‘talkie. “Visual?”

“Cameras are fuzzy. Looks like two guys making their way to the front door.”

Probably admirers. They’ve had a lot of well-wishers want to stop by, fans that want to offer their support.

“You want us to… escort them? Maybe run them off?”

Rhonda sighs. Security is getting jumpy. They’re collecting a paycheck to sit for 8 hours at a time. At this point, they’re desperate to do anything that might feel like helping.

“Negative. I’ll meet them at the front door.”

Rhonda, of course, hasn’t been mentioning to people what she knows first-hand. People in hospice don’t get good news. Every new day of life is a miracle. Recovery is too unlikely to discuss. And full recovery?

...

...If it were anyone else, she could maybe accept that. But, more than anything, just like everyone else on the commune, even with the knowledge she had…

Rhonda prayed Corey would pull through.

She sighed, stepping up to the front door. At least things couldn’t get worse…

She props the door open and peers out.

And sees a familiar Korean face.

“Ah! Corey Smith’s house woman!”

SLAM!

...

Nope.

Nope nope nope nope.

All of a sudden, a slap of flesh on flesh. A yelp of pain.

A knock at the door.

A different voice.

“Sorry, can we do that again?”

Rhonda exhales… Before opening the door a crack to peer out.

She sees the Korean, bowing and holding out a basket of fresh fruit.

NK’s got a welt between his eyes like someone just flicked him in the forehead as hard as they could.

“My sincerest apologies for my… tactless greeting.”

The other man steps up and nods politely.

“We’re here to visit Dolly Waters.”

“Was Miss Waters expecting you?”

…Flynn and NK look at each other.

“We left her a voicemail and it said to swing by 24/7.”

“...Look, gentlemen, I’m not trying to be rude. But I believe those hours are for recovering addicts looking to join the substance program.”

“Aha! What luck! Mark Flynn is on-the-wagon, recovering from morphine addiction!”

Flynn stares angrily at NK for disclosing his substance issues… but gruffly nods.

“That is… TECHNICALLY true.”

“...Okay… I’ll guide you, then? But, first.”

Rhonda turns to a little basket she’s set-up at the front door. She revolves back to Flynn & NK with two black KN-95s.

“Masks, please.”

***

The Late O’Clock group.

Normally, they had met at odd, downright bizarre hours, hence the group name. Instead, they had been meeting… pretty much whenever two people popped into the mansion’s guest room.

There had been a gnawing sense of dread hovering over the mansion ever since Corey ended up in hospice. The Big Book states the first phase of a relapse is emotional. You get short with people, you bottle your emotions, you start isolating. Isolation leads to Guilt. Guilt leads to Shame. Shame leads to Relapse.

Dolly Waters lets herself grin. She was thinking like a fuckin’ ‘sobriety jedi’.

The Late O’Clock group, thankfully, had opted instead to lean on each other for support at this time. It wasn’t easy and things were tense, but they were following the steps. They were doing the right things for their recovery.

Dolly sighed. What a fuckin’ week... Three matches in four nights, running (commissioning?) her first Anarchy in just a few hours, laser tag with LSM, meetings with the group, making decisions for Coreytopia, interviews and promos…

If Dolly didn’t know better, she might think she was keeping herself busy so she wouldn’t have time to process the situation.

“Dolly?”

Dolly looks up. Tessa, the raven-haired middle-aged Brooklynite was calling for her. After Dolly had gotten her to a level of comfort with the 12 steps, the next logical step was leading a meeting. This was Tessa’s first go at it and, for the parts Dolly had let herself be in the moment, Tessa had been doing great.

Dolly focused up and sat straight in her chair.

“Sorry, What?”

“Um… Any... challenges this week?”

Dolly can’t help it. The ridiculousness of that question. She lets out a giggle. Mortified, she covers her mouth and turns red.

The rest of the twelve… after a moment of shock, chuckle themselves… Tessa pushes the hair out of her face, grinning.

“I know. Pretty silly question for the past seven days…”

“I just mean... any temptations? Anything you want to share with the group?”

Before Dolly can answer that question, there’s a rapping at the door.

A masked Korean face presses itself against the window.

“DOLLY WATERS! OTHER ADDICTS! HELLO!”

“Get away from there, NK!”

“WE CALLED YOUR PHONE! IT’S US! THE ‘PULL THE PLUG’ BOYS!”

“Don’t call us that! DON’T DO THE HAND MOTION!”

Before NK can finish miming pulling a plug out of the wall through the window, he gets peeled away and flung backwards.

The door creaks open, somehow even louder than NK yelling through the closed door.

Flynn, also sporting a mask, peeks his head in the cracked door. Even masked, he is beet red and embarrassed.

“Hi Dolly...”

“Can we chat for a second?”