---

Please play the musical accompaniment before you begin.

---

Everything has to start somewhere.

The largest infernos begin from the smallest embers.

The greatest revolutions from a single dissenting thought.

This is the beginning of my reign…

And it all starts with a single defence.

Against a man who started it all…

---

Behaviour unbecoming of champions…

But it had gone exactly as Isaiah had planned.

A cheap shot to get Doc back for attempting to cash in on him last year, check.

A dangerous situation that would certainly draw Ned Kaye out, check.

An unfortunate time for Theo, at the start of his show for the new year, check.

Forcing all hands involved to give Isaiah the match he wanted… Check, check, check.

He was on the mountaintop, and everyone would dance to his tune. He would fight who he wanted when he wanted…

They would ALL fall under his rule.

The grin grew wider as Isaiah squeezed the Universal Championship belt around his waist, and walked through the curtains to backstage.

---

---

“Well, well, well… Ned Kaye.

Remember when you faced me last?

When you took my Television Title when you unified belts!

When you made it loud and clear that this rookie wasn’t going to get past this boy-who-almost-made-it… Just yet.

You started the year as THE person on fire.

You left me in twenty-twenty-two, sky-rocketing momentum cut short.

You had your eyes set on the thorn in your flesh, Chris Page.

You had your eyes on gold, first on Mark Flynn and then on Kido who dethroned him.

You were surrounded by friends who were at the peak of their game.

You had it ALL laid out for you, friend.

YOU did.

You beat some incredible names.

You kicked Chris Page’s ass twice.

You kicked out of the Bobby bomb.

You had everyone scream you deserved a title shot, that you deserved to go after gold…

Everyone but yourself.

Can’t you see Ned?

You went from embers to BRIGHT flames… And back to embers.

On the way to the top at the start of last year…

What happened?

You’ve ploughed through everyone you’ve set your mind to…

...Except for yourself.

You've built this wall...

A wall that screams “You’re not good enough.”

And like the good little bitch you are, you accept it.

You scream back, “No, I’m not.”

What do you have left to prove?

Who else do you have to defeat?

Oh, my poor friend…

Tribulations are meant to make you stronger.

Trials are meant to refine you.

Suffering ain’t penance, Ned, it’s opportunity.

But instead of gold refined in flames, you’re the coal that keeps that shit burning.

You’re the fuel, not the treasure.

The support, not the star.

The helper, not the King.”

The camera pans out further and Isaiah’s Universal title belt comes into view, hung over his shoulder. He taps it twice.

“You let Mark Flynn lead YOUR team to victory.

The one title you’re holding now… You couldn’t win without Mark forcing us together and having a partner, yours truly, in your corner.

We beat Mark Flynn and Bobby Bourbon - you sum bitch.

We beat two of the most dominant wrestlers in the world right now…

And still, you need help to get into that main-event?

STILL, you weren’t ready to come at me for this belt until I forced your and Theo’s hand.

Can’t you see Ned, you’re dying embers, leaving the shadows of their mark behind… The fuel to what’ll be my eternal flame.”

The screen cuts abruptly to black, the last image one of Isaiah looking focused… But disappointed.

---

The head rolled down across the carpet, a glistening spurt of blood where it once was. Comical, almost. A gleaming black blade, shining off the moon and the city’s light.

“Well, now now, no need to get your hands that dirty… son.”

The man lifted an arm and placed it on Isaiah’s shoulder. Suddenly, Isaiah found himself face down, ass up, at his father’s feet - an inhuman pressure keeping him there. The pressure kept his lungs filled halfway, and his anxiety grew with each half-breath.

”Now, listen like a good boy, I’m obviously doing my big villain monologue here… You see, Elias was meant to keep you alive and keep you getting stronger. I hadn’t expected that old sod to go soft on me… I mean, he’s the one that taught me how to kill painfully… To see what he became… Broke my heart. And then you went and let him die, didn’t you? As much as he lost his step… He was still one of mine. Clearly, you’d lost the plot completely if you let an OG… Die.”


Author’s note: Elias Hussein was the old street OG who’d cared for Isaiah through his youth. He’d recently been killed by Jeremiah’s thugs in an escalation between Isaiah and Jeremiah’s warring factions.


As he took a breath, Isaiah’s eyes began to adjust to the room's light, and he realised just how many people were in it. Easily a dozen or so men, clad in full-black tactical gear. A few had blades similar to his father's, others silenced pistols, and he swore one had a pair of tactical nunchucks.

Isaiah stretched his neck to see what’d happened to Ned, Amelia, and the body of his best friend, Ezekiel. As far as he could see… Somehow, they were no longer in the room with him.

”Tsk, are you distracted already, you really… Can’t see the gravity of the situation, can you? F*ck ya’ friends, son. Daddy’s home, you must know what that means?”

The man shifted his feet now, to place his boot on Isaiah’s head instead. King could feel the wetness of Jeremiah’s head press into his own skin. He’d have thrown up if there was anything to hurl.

”That means you don’t get to run around with this dumb little King title any more. You’ll take ya real name, my name… Because the only King around here is me. I don’t see ya’ soldiers, I see mine. I don’t see ya’ power… I see mine. Now… This’ll be between you and me of course, because like an intelligent King, I prefer to rule from the shadows. If you think you’ll throw a hissy fit, just remember, I came back to clean up your mess. I did it faster, smoother, and without loss… It’s time for Harlem to return to its rightful owner, and for you to grow a pair.”

Isaiah fought against the pressure to look at his father once more.

His father met his gaze with a sickening grin.

”Just remember, child, this is a grave you’ve dug for yourself. With ya weakness, and you playin’ around.”

The man eased his foot off Isaiah’s head, and the pressure keeping Isaiah down seemed to subside as well. Isaiah inhaled deeply.

”Get off ya’ ass, rise… Isaiah Nwa’eze Adeyemi.” 

Isaiah was out of his depth, he had no idea what was going on.

Well, not completely, he knew he was completely outclassed.

---

---

”Welcome back.”

Isaiah returns to the screen, still seated with his belt over his shoulder, smiling sadly into the camera.

“The greatest traps are the ones we set for ourselves”

Isaiah tried to put his best Ned Kaye impression on.

”That’s what you said so boldly to Flynn before we faced him. Reminding him of the ghostly past he was returning to by sharing a bed with Bourbon.

But my dear friend, at least he’s changed.

To regress you must first progress, no?

We both know Flynn’s too ADHD-Kindergarten-Child to be one thing for too long, being a good little boy like you was going to bore him the second it wasn’t getting him the adoration he so deeply craves.

You were right when you said he set his own trap, dug his own grave.

Because you and I robbed him of his belts fair and square, didn’t we? Proved to him that having some honor gets you somewhere… And exploited the weakness of Bourbon while at it.

But you’re blind if you can’t see that you’ve been setting up your own traps all of last year.

You’re blind if you can’t see that instead of progressing, by staying in place for a WHOLE year… You’ve told the WORLD just how to crush you completely.”

Isaiah briefly looks off-screen, glancing beside his throne and breathing deeply - comforted by whoever, whatever is there.

”I just needed some further clarity to see it. And It’s exactly what I’ve found.

You see, my dear friend…

All year you’ve told the world, that the one thing you’ve been gunning for? That perfect year that culminated in the perfect championship win - that perfect reign as Universal Champion - that domination…

That perfection?

It’s what keeps you going, the chase is what keeps you winning.

Hell, it might even make you unstoppable…

Well, until it’s within grasp.

Because, friend, I can think of three, four times maybe where you could’ve taken this title and made it yours.

Flynn? You could’ve beaten him… Didn’t we prove that just last time around? We both know he’s got a couple of screws loose. Point out a flaw in one of his sentences, and you’ll have him fumbling in the ring.

Kido? Pretty sure you could’ve taken him too… I mean, if you both didn’t get blinded by the shining white-knight bullshit you both try so hard to radiate. Everyone seems to think I can only pushed him out of a door he was already headed to, anyways.

Sidney Grey? C’mon, where’s she been recently?

Bobby Bourbon? For the few seconds he had it… You’ve been better than him all year.

Corey Smith? The definition of a transient champion, he might’ve hated this belt more than you… Seemed to put himself through any opportunity to risk losing it.

And then Thunder Knuckles… The man I pried this from.

The man I leapfrogged over you to get to.

You probably could’ve beaten him too… Who’s he but Bobby’s side-chick, hm?

Yet… All year long, you chased shadows that weren’t there. You fought people you’d already beat… You skipped out on Warfare… To take a break?

A break from your mediocre year? A break from your year of fizzling into smoke.

Come on Ned, you’ve had this title at arms-length all of last year… And yet you refused to leap at it.

It was never the right time, was it?

Never ideal.

Never perfect.

You started rubbing shoulders with me, with Flynn, surrounded yourself by people with more drive than you did…

You played support.

Because you were afraid.

You let the man you beat into the dirt, the man whose work ethic and ambition you trashed before you beat… Claw past you and wrap his bloodied fingers around the title you so desperately want.

You helped me there, Ned.

That’s how sickening you are.

You let me cuck you for this belt.

Because you were afraid.

Afraid that if it was you in the ring with the champ, and you put one foot wrong, one uncalculated move… That ALL your years of work would go down the drain.

That the world would mark you as just another challenger.

That the world would forget the NOTORIOUS Ned Kaye.

So afraid that you’d rather tell yourself and the world that it wasn’t the right time.

You’d rather walk around as the hottest challenger in the room, than challenge for glory.”

Isaiah’s face started to curl into a snarl.

”That’s how you set this trap for yourself.

Every time you avoided this title? You made it take up more real estate in that head of yours.

You made it feel more unattainable.

You gave it more value than it was worth.

And you let me, standing by your side, watch you dig yourself deeper and put this title further out of reach.

You let me see that if I put you in the one place you were most afraid of… I would have the chance to crush you completely.

I would be able to make your every nightmare come true.

I would force you to put your feet in only the wrong places.

To catch you so off-guard, be so unexpected… That none of your moves feel calculated.

I’ll shine the light of glory on you and expose every childish little fear you have…

And show you the pain of ULTIMATE failure.

I’d make this title slip through your fingers again… And let you weep in your despair.”

Isaiah catches an angry laugh from escaping.

“I know all about how you THINK you’ve hit rock bottom.

Alcohol? Family? Your lover?

Join the pity-party Ned.

You and every gaddamned person worth a dime has been there.

Chained down by vices and the loss of their loved ones.

True despair, true… Rock-bottom… Is realising your ONE dream… Is unattainable.

Is beyond your abilities.

That is what I’ll help you experience, Ned.

I don’t have to call you names, I don’t have to drag you through the mud.

I just have to show you what you don’t want to see.

I just have to shove you into the trap you’ve set for yourself.

I just have to make your dream tumble and vanish for good…”

Isaiah glances up once more, before rising off his throne and standing before the camera. The lens pans out some more, revealing his tag championship against the throne… And his father standing by his side, one reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder.

”And when you’re lying in the ashes of your embers.

Lying in the rubble of your crushed dreams…

I’ll set a new fire in you.

I’ll offer you my hand, and pick you up from your despair.

I’ll give you back your worth, at my right hand.

As my partner.

As my friend.

As my Kin.

I’ll build you back up Ned, from nothing, I will mould you into what you’ve always meant to be.

I’ll help you be better than you’ve ever been.

We will.

Me… My father, and our Kingdom.”

Isaiah held his head high, arching an eyebrow at the camera right as it cuts to black once more.

---

Isaiah pulled himself up to his feet, rising to stand still a whole head shorter than his father.

The larger man placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, and a nauseating feeling captured Isaiah’s stomach as he felt his surroundings begin to… Liquify?

At least that’s what it looked like. He saw the walls melt, the concealed faces of the soldiers around him drip… Until he felt a pain like he’d never felt before shoot out from his head, sending his vision to black.

The pain disappeared almost as quickly as it came, but it still brought Isaiah to one knee, arms clenching at his gut.

As his vision cleared, he found himself back in his apartment… Well, at least it looked like his apartment.

The furniture in the living room had been shifted about. In one end of his living room was a large, black throne… Which seemed to be made of a black metal that looked like it was moving, looked almost… Molten.

Isaiah’s eyes next noticed how the walls were covered with men, masked and standing at attention, clad in the same tactical armour as he’d seen in Jeremiah’s tower.

Finally, his eyes settled on the only familiar face… The face of his girlfriend, Chaeryoung.



Her face was covered with concern, but she stood unmoving, just eyeing him from afar. She didn’t meet his look.

Disconcerting.

”Ch-Chaer-”

Isaiah felt the cold of a sharp blade rest on his throat. Before he could fully register it, he felt a gloved hand cover his lips, and a leg sweep his from under him, knocking him full to his knees.

One of his father’s guards had him quickly restrained.

”Did I say you could speak yet? You don’t have your manners about you, do you? There’s a lot for you to learn… Firstly, to stop lying to weak ass children to fight your battles for you.

Was that Noah’s kid, the one with the bullet in his head back at Jeremiah’s? And this pretty little thing, that almost lost her head trying to fight off my men… Did you make her think she was strong too?”

He waved a hand lazily at Chaeryoung, and Isaiah began to notice how bruised she was. He felt a rage build up within him.

”You’d be wise to calm your anger, child. It’d do you well to know when you’re beat. When you’re weak. When you’re way over your head. No amount of “righteous” anger is going to save you, when your life is in someone else's hands. That’s lesson number one from papa, self-control, humility. Now… Speak wisely, ask ya’ old man what you want to ask, but please don’t be stupid.”

He waved away his guard as he turned his back on his son and settled himself on his throne. He lit a cigarette and placed it on his lips.



Isaiah breathed in deeply again, before speaking.

“Where’ve you been… Malachi.”

”Ah, he remembers my name, how delightful. And that’s a much better question than why I’m back… Though I would prefer it if you called me Father.”

Isaiah suppressed the urge to lunge at his father once more.

“I hope you’ll let me warm up to that… You don’t look a year older than when I knew you, not much reason to forget you.”

That was unnerving him, how his father hadn’t aged in twenty years.

”What can I say, Adeyemi blood brims with youth… If you feed it right. I’ve been everywhere the last two decades, I’ve been home. Our real home - Nigeria.”

That was certainly news to him, Isaiah had always assumed his African heritage was as untraceable as most black Americans. And there it was again, Adeyemi, whatever that was.

”You see… I got offered a job by, as you’d have it… My father. He’s dead now, God bless his soul… But when he summoned me, I couldn’t help but listen… You see, there’s something with us Adeyemi men that just make us… Irresistible to one another.”

Malachi eyed his son once more as a smirk played on his ashy lips. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, and beckoned his son with two fingers.

”Come.”

Isaiah felt that pressure once more, pushing aggressively into his back, and his legs, forcing him forward and back into a kneeling position before his father’s throne.

”See.”

What the hell was going on, was this…

”-Magic.”

What-the-fu-

”You’ll get used to it, just like I did. It makes training your heir much more efficient, you quite literally have to do what I say.”

Isaiah’s rage began to boil, it bubbled and forced its way to the top. His eyes glistened with frustration and confusion.

”Remember our first lesson, control your anger.”

Immediately he felt his rage begin to subside, bit by bit.

”Convenient, isn’t it? Go on.”

Isaiah found the willpower to speak again.

”And what have you been doing for twenty years?”

His father let out a laugh, a laugh that sounded eerily identical to Isaiah’s.

”I’ve been establishing my Kingdom, son. I’ve been doing everything you hoped to do… Everything you’ve been to afraid to do. While you ran from Jeremiah, ran from your little slice of glory here in Harlem… I made our name renowned in all the world… Well - not quite. Nobody knows who exactly I am, they just do what I want them to.”

Malachi laughs arrogantly once more.

”And… What’re you going to do with me?”

”Oh my dear son, what any good father would - I’m going to bring you into the fold, into the kingdom… Into my Ala’Eze.

I’m going to prepare you to be me.”

---

---

The camera flickers to life one last time, revealing Isaiah standing with Malachi on his right and Chaeryoung on his left.

”Ned Kaye.

This Saturday…

I’m going to extinguish your flames for good.

The flames you lit when you first beat me over a year ago.

The flames you let slowly die as you procrastinated for a year.

The flames that won’t get you where you want to be.

And at your lowest, I’ll give you purpose.

You see, it’s a free for all, and I could use some kinsmen by my side.

I could use you for the sake of my Kingship.

Be the coal to my flames, set me alight on the XWF, on the world!

Together, let’s conquer it all.”

---