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Exhibition - Ned Kaye - 06-21-2022
OOC: Formatting
June 18th, 2022
The lights in the hospital waiting room flickered ever so slightly. The air seemed to move slowly in this place, not quite stagnant, but a swirl of sterile air that seemed to clog the surrounding space up. A clock gently ticked away, suspended above the fancy chairs that furnished the waiting room, gravity seeming to tug on the upward trajectory of the second hand, each second choosing to crawl by almost painfully. The room was vacant, bar for one inhabitant, patiently hoping that the nurse would return any moment now, clutching a small gift bag in their hands, seeming to feel the growing pressure in the atmosphere of this place. Slowly, the echoing of footsteps began to drown out the clock's ticking, a nurse approaching them with careful steps, each one increasing in volume subtly as the nurse drew closer. Finally, they arrived, calling out to the nearly room with a small voice that projected itself effortlessly to the intended recipient.
“Ms. Ellis, your sister is ready to see you.”
Darcy stood up, the gift bag still tight in her grip as she gave a small nod of affirmation, taking a deep breath as she walked onward. Hospitals has always creeped the hell out of her. There was something about a place perpetually housing the ill that remained spotless in appearance that made her skin crawl. A contradiction as unsettling as it was necessary to her. She brushed some of her hair away from her eyes. She still wasn't sure how to handle all of this. Even though, she was obviously overjoyed that her sister's condition had improved heavily, it wasn't all sunshine and rain. It was a crooked path that led her to this moment and its steps had never truly straightened. Still, it all brought her here: to this door and the woman who lay behind it. She gently opened the door.
In the bed, sitting up, was her sister, Abigail Ellis, head devoid of hair from treatment, but in generally good spirits after everything. She had a warm smile and seemed to glow upon seeing Darcy. In the back of Darcy's head, she knew that they were still going to have little problems here and there in the future, like they always had, but at least they had a future to look forward to, imperfect as it may be.
“Tell me you brought me my fave, Darce!” Abby excitedly anticipated, prompting her sister to make a motion with her hand, requesting the bedridden Abigail keep herself a little contained and quiet.
“Shut up a little and maybe I will!” She exclaimed in a hushed tone. It was nice to banter with Abby again, especially considering there was such a long stretch of time where she only had Ned with a mask on to snark at. Hell, even Ned with a mask off could be a bit grim for little comments, but that was just who he was, she assumed.
Darcy took a seat near the hospital bed, dragging it closer as she opened up her gift bag and pulled out some flowers that hastily concealed a takeout container filled with Chicken Parm that she carefully placed on the table in front of Abby.
“You're the best, Darce!” Abby began scarfing down the food, knowing that if any of the nurses caught wind of this, that this meal would be immediately halted. Darcy's face turned to a strange mixture of impressed and disgusted as Abigail apparently inhaled each bite.
“I'm, like, 900% sure you're supposed to chew food with those sharp, bony things in your mouth instead of... that,” she chimed in to the slurping of her sister upon the marinara covered noodles.
“Psh, ah'll beh phine,” Abby said, her mouth overflowing with a disconcerting amount of spaghetti, swallowing only to clear her speech for a second, “Now tell me more about what was going on with you and that Ned guy.”
Darcy's cheeks began to tint with color softly as she shook her head, chuckling, “Jesus, you make that sound way worse when you say it like that!”
“Anyway, we ended up going to his abandoned gym thing to meet up with his new business partners and stuff.”
“Wait,” Abby interjected, “weren't you two in a Star Wars thing?”
“Well, yeah, but that's a mess and I'll tell you the end of that stuff later. This is more important.”
“More important than a big machine that can make you be in Star Wars?”
“YES! LITERALLY ANYTHING IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THAT! Please can I tell my story or should I just flip on Disney+ for your style of entertainment?”
“You know, I could really go for some Chewbacca right about now...” Abby teased.
Darcy rolled her eyes, ignoring her sister's remark and continued, “so we walked in there, right?”
The Notorious Gym was in disrepair after Nate had refused to continue running it. Even the outside had graffiti adorning the brick, the Avalanche logo that haunted Ned's recent past prominent on the wall nearest the door. With a sigh, he placed the key in and twisted until he heard it click open, pushing the handle to reveal the inside, even dustier and more broken than the day he got his hands on it. Darcy walked in closely after him, although he admittedly wasn't paying her much mind. This place housed so many memories and times from when he was in a better place, both in his personal matters and the XWF. There was something so genuinely painful about seeing the dust gather on it again. Forced back into it's earlier state by decisions Ned was never forced to make. The only thing that looked remotely usable was the practice ring. Ned stepped up to it, placing his hand around one of the ring ropes, feeling a light bit more slack than usual on it. Kaye took a deep breath, despite poor ventilation of the interior and reflected, only for his guest to pipe in and make her presence impossible to ignore.
“Jeez, this place is pretty fucking grody, Ned,” Darcy said, sneering at the state of disrepair the gym was in, taking a special sort of focus on the various cobwebs she could identify.
“You know, I'm kind of having an emotional moment here.”
“Well, you could have kind of cleaned and I kind of wouldn't be as grossed out.”
Ned shook his head, rolling his eyes somewhat as he shot back with, “I'm sorry the important places in my life aren't adorned with a nice little throne for you, your highness.”
“Apology accepted, doubly so if you start the throne thing today.”
“How do you figure I do that?”
“I was thinking maybe you could get that Cashe guy and lug around that chair on a couple of two-by-fours.”
“You know, upper body strength isn't my forte and as funny as it would be to watch you tumble down onto the ground from your literal high ground, I'm pretty sure that's not exactly good guy stuff.”
“No upper body strength, huh? Is that why dusting is so hard, muscle boy?” Darcy stuck her tongue out at him, defiant despite his attempts to even remotely match her in terms of wryness.
“Are we interrupting something?” interjected Theo Pryce, stepping into the door with his associate, Jason Cashe. Cashe happily waved at Darcy, seemingly content with meeting a new, non-Ned person in this decidedly Ned-themed gym.
“I don't know,” Ned answered, “does her verbal abuse count as something?”[/color][/font]
“It does not.” Theo walked up to the ring, running a gloved fingertip across the dust, letting it collect before inspecting it closely.
“You really could afford to clean this place once or twice a year.”
Ned didn't glance at her, but he could feel her affirmed gaze just outside his peripheral vision.
“...I have been advised such, once or twice. Now, are we gonna talk housekeeping or strategy for Wednesday?”
“Strategy?” Jason chimed, “I think kicking their asses is a good gameplan, don't you?”
“As optimistic as that might be, Ned's not entirely off base in this circumstance. You two haven't wrestled out there with one another, so minimizing the worst parts of getting to know one another isn't a bad idea.”
Jason gave a laugh at Theo's statement, “What could be the worst part of getting to know a guy?”
“Getting to know his fist.”
“His boot.”
“His dirty gym.”
Ned sighed at her words, pulling up a chalkboard before beginning to jot down a few things, doing his best to summarize a strategy for himself, Cashe, and a few ways they could bounce off of Tact's moveset. But as he spoke, there was a detached tone to Ned's voice as it softly bounced of the walls inside The Notorious Gym. Despite all his speaking, and planning, he just didn't seem focused. This lecture and brainstorming continued for ten minutes or so before Theo spoke up, breaking Ned's concentration.
“Are you sure you're up to this?” Theo asked.
“...O-of course, I am, what kind of question is that?” Kaye responded.
“A damn fair one if you're all you're going to do here and at Warfare is waste our time.”
“I seem to remember you coming to me for help!”
“I came to Ned Kaye for a business proposal. You, though? You're not the Ned I want, nor need.”
Ned, slightly shaken, walked up to Theo, staring daggers into his eyes.
Jason shrugged a little awkwardly. “You know, you two could lower the intensity level an iiiiiitnsy bit...”
“You don't know what you're talking about,” Ned spoke.
“Then prove it. In that ring. Right here. Right now. Wrestle me, Ned.”
Ned hesitated, taking a deep breath before nodding, “You're on.”
Ned and Theo walked into the ring one at a time, Cashe playing their entrance themes off of his phone's speaker. As they stood across from one another. The two men stared each other down in their gear, Theo wearing a slightly smug smile as Ned gazed coldly. As Darcy yelled out “DING, DING” to represent the bell, the two lunged for one another, but Pryce was more than ready for Ned's approach and caught him in a tight headlock, wrenching on his neck. Ned broke free, but not before getting exposed enough for a reverse DDT!
“AUGH!” Ned cried out, getting to his feet quickly, but dizzy as Theo hit a running stomp to the back of his head before he was all the way back up. Ned thought for a moment, trying to organize everything in his head, but feeling the pressure of the exhibition match already weigh on him.
“You'll have to do better than getting baited by a retired wrestler to impress me.”
Ned's gaze turned serious again as he launched himself back into the ropes, propelling himself towards Pryce for a flying crossbody, managing to bring the vet to the mat, if only for a split second. Ned tries to charge Theo, but gets caught by a powerslam of pure intuition. Suddenly, a realization hit Ned. He'd seen these combinations and counters before from Theo, but where?
Pryce looked at Kaye, smiling somewhat as he saw the gears begin turning in his opponent's head.
“Are you going to lay there all day, or are you going to try and fight the old man beating your ass?”
Ned cautiously got to his feet, examining Theo's movements more closely now. Then, suddenly, Ned tossed all caution to the wind and charged Theo again, seemingly in a desperate attempt for any damage to his opponent. Theo goes after Ned's left knee, but his contact isn't as clean as he'd like. Still, he maages to get Ned to buckle and goes for a huge brainbuster on the younger man who mangages to flip out of it and counters with a firm superkick straight into Theo's unsuspecting jaw, dropping him to the mat for a moment as Ned chuckles, finally understanding what was going on.
“You know, if you're going to use old moves and counters, you really ought to have chosen a match I didn't see, Theo!”
Jason looked around confused by what Ned was insinuating, “Wait, what?!”
Theo spoke, getting up slowly after rolling out of the ring, “I figured you might remember an old match of mine like that. You were an XWF fan, weren't you?”
“Triple Threat Main Event on Warfare December 17th, 2014. Of course, I was a fan! The XWF is why I became a professional wrestler! It was so much fun watching everyone and seeing legends and other alike at their best! Wrestling... was more than just fights and trauma for me. It was something I loved.... It is something I love,” Ned looked down, taking a deep breath before giving Pryce a thumbs up, “Thank you, Theo.”
“Sure, sure,” he responded, “just leave those kicks for our enemies next time.”
“Of course.”
“And Ned?”
“Yeah?”
“Let's get to work.”
“There comes a moment in everyone's life where they find out exactly what they're made of. And as much as we like to predict and speculate, none of us can be sure when that moment truly is or was. I know this and yet...”
“...And yet, I feel, once again, like I know the answer to that question: “What is Ned Kaye made of?” As if everything in my way has fallen aside and the smoke that's constantly blinded me from my goals has been cleared with a single gust. So, that begs the question: what are my allies made of? Well, Cashe is certainly... different from the kinds of people I'm used to dealing with. I wouldn't say he takes things as a joke, but he's a hell of a lot more laid back than myself, though he makes an exception to that in the ring. So, even if I can't tell you the exact composition of the man, whatever it is is Page-resistant and that's more than I could ever ask for. A person's opinion of Chris Page is largely like the shopping cart test: it'll tell you a lot about a person's capacity to do the right thing. Did he fuck around and waste a ton of Chris's money on the idea that he could be brought into the Douchebag's Anonymous Time Share scam Page set up? Oh, absolutely! It's not something I quite have the stomach for, but I can't fault the man for Casheing out a long overdue check.”
“Larry Tact, on the other hand, I'm pretty sure is made of money and snark which is just a stone's toss away from being the next Theo Pryce. If Theo Pryce thought smacking a man's head off was about as fun as being the owner of a company, I should note. Here's a Tact Fact for you, though: you're going to beg that he gets his hands on you in this match if the alternative means staring me down because while my allies here are going to find enjoyment in wearing you out and beating you senseless, there is not going to be a single thing random or lacking calculation in what I plan to do to you three. Because, believe or not, not a single damn one of you is that hard to read or figure out.”
“Bam Miller might as well be made out of a sockpuppet with angry eyes glued on. The most original thing he has is his first name and I'm convinced he got it from the sound Page's newspaper makes on his ass. He wants to be tough so badly that he forgets that toughness only takes you so far? You wanna punch? Go find a sandbag and gnaw on it a bit, but if you wanna wrestle, sit back and take some notes. And if you wanna open that mouth of yours, get the man holding your lead to yank so you stop embarrassing yourself. I know I'm not the best promo in the game, but jesus christ, I think you're the only guy who couldn't promo his way in to a paper bag, let alone out of. You know, if you leave the talking to the people pilfering your wallet and leave the wrestling to the professionals, you'll at the very least earn one or two of those media sessions you love holding.”
“But what's this? Is it the answer to a question everyone agreed didn't deserve to be asked? No, it's just Elijah Martin: the posterboy for how to make failure look macho. I'd feel bad for Martin if his biggest insults didn't amount to Cashe and Theo being proud of Jason's victory. You'd swear the guy wants everybody to breeze past their successes because the odds of him finding any are the same odds of finding a good deal anywhere beneath Chris's boot. But your tongue's done a lot of digging there, hasn't it, Elijah? The fact is that you're a talented a wrestler who should be out there gaining respect, but instead, you've been leveraged as the meat shield by people who pay you pennies so they can pocket dollars over your corpse. You're either going to wise up or wipe out and if it takes the sole of my boot to open your eyes, then you're just going to have to get used to a second flavor of leather on your lips because I wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything Chris is.”
“But they're not really what the match is about, are they? They're back up for Page's prized stallion. Insurance for his biggest investment. Plausible deniability for when you lose this match alongside them, eh, Peter? You see, I feel bad for Bam and Elijah because they simply bought into the dream being sold to them to propel their careers forward, but you, Vaughn? You sold your soul for a few extra bucks at most. You can pretend like we're similar, two talented wrestler working under extreme wealthy, morally-dubious men, but I never sold out my morals and Theo knows that the moment this project starts straying away with what I deem acceptable, I'll walk out. You? You gladly became the prized hound among a group of strays at the cost of everything. Latched the bell on your collar and rang it for your master so he didn't have to lift a finger. That isn't dominance. That's not what a champion does and it's telling that Cashe did what you never had the balls to do and grabbed success that he found on his terms. You'd rather be a successful tool than fail at being yourself. Well, if you wanna be a tool so badly, let's see how many defeats you can take until the man gripping your handle tosses you in the trash. I am looking forward to beating you down and reminding the world who I am when my priorities are straight and my mind is clear.”
“Because what is Ned Kaye made of? Fire. The kind that burns hot with passion and extinguishes under no circumstances. No matter how painful the loss, how encompassing the darkness, or how tempting surrender may seem. I am a different breed of wrestler, one you are simply unprepared for, given your inability to defeat the flames of Alias. You want a war, Peter? You want to really test yourself? Or are you going to do what Papa Page excels at and hide behind someone weaker so you don't have to show how weak you truly are? Flee all you want. Fire is great at revealing cowards like you two. And when Cashe, Tact, and I are done with your discount duo, we're coming for the jackpot jackasses running this little operation you've got here. So get out or get ready. Because the third chapter of Ned Kaye has begun and you're not even going to make the Index.”