An urban landscape scrolls past the windows on the Greyhound bus which is currently transporting Dexter and Joachim's Bright to some yet to be mentioned destination. Joachim is seated with his knees curled up to his chin, a pair of cheap headphones (synched in to an archaic looking phone) enveloping his ears. At his feet are a few poster board signs folded into halves, their message hidden from the camera. Dexter Bright, that's The Engineer to you, is spinning a fidget spinner. One of those fancy light up ones. Because apparently he never got the memo that they too have gone to that great passing fad graveyard in the sky.

Engy pokes his son's shoulder.

Are we there yet?

Joachim rolls his eyes and looks out the window.

No.

Engy puts the fidget spinner in his pocket and starts absent mindedly giving the seat in front of him a few light kicks.

So did Jim really draw a blood sample from you?

Joachim, attention pouring into his phone, doesn't reply.

I know you can hear me.

Still nada.

Adam Rippon is grossly overrated in figure skating and in life and his ass is fat.

Joachim still has no response.

Billy Graham's death is a national tragedy.

His son doesn't even bat an eye.

Thrift store chic is for poor people.

Joachim finally slips his headphones off his head and looks at his father.

What do you want?

Wow, that's the one that got you? I didn't realize you were so passionate about Amvets. So inquiring minds want to know, did Jim really draw a blood sample from you?

It's possible, we were riding the K-Hole pretty hard soooooo.......

Whaaaaaaat?!

I thought you were supposed to be smart now? Jesus, we just sat and talked for a bit and split a J.

Well, it's not like you were very forthcoming about your encounter with him which occurred entirely off camera against my explicit wishes.

Joachim looks right at the camera.

Hey America, this will never not be completely fucking weird. Can I say “fucking”?

I'll allow it. It's part of the life style Jo. Everything gets broadcast when you're in wrestling. Nothing is private or sacred. Whether you're harassing Martha Stewart's best black BFF or committing multiple consecutive felonies. Wrestling is pretty damn cool. You should try it.

Noted.

Joachim slips the headphones back over his ears and drops out. Looking a touch frustrated, he pokes his son's arm again.

WHAT?!

Jim didn't happen to mention anything about the possibility of me being morally salvageable, did he?

Ohhhhh myyyyyy GOOOOOOOOOD.....

Jo rips off the head phones and turns to face his father.

Look, I realize this is all part of your weird “absolution quest” that you're on about lately, which in reality is just another blatant cynical manipulation designed to try to get one over on Jim....but I want to REPEAT that I only allowed you to come with me, scratch that....TOLERATED, scratch that, WAS FORCED TO TAKE YOU WITH ME, on the understanding that you would not talk to me or interact with me in any way. By my count you have violated that stipulation no less than 458 times. Moreover, you were never under any obligation to take public transportation with me....

Yeah, well, I offered to drive us in Madison's Lexus but you thought that would just be too damaging to your precious Social Justice Cred...a bloo bloo bloo....

I LIKE TAKING THE GODDAMN BUS!

By now, both of them are acutely aware of the attention their argument is drawing. Engy waves to some of the people who are staring. A kid peeks his head up and over the back of their seat.

Hey, you're The Engineer!

Ayyyup. You want an autograph?

I wanna meet Jim Caedus!

Engy glowers at the kid.

Sorry kid, Jim got bladder cancer and died. Don't hold your pee too long.

The kid screws his face up in confusion and slowly dips his face back behind their seat again.

Engy reclines back in his seat and a long sigh escapes him. He turns his head to look at his son, who is looking out the window as the bus slows to a stop at the light. Engy reaches over and takes hold of one of the poster board signs, opening it just enough so that he could see what was on the face of it. The sign was carefully calligraphied with pro-Gay rights messaging.

You did a good job on the signs.

Joachim continues looking out the window, once again non-responsive. Engy scratches the back of his head, looking about, before a smirk appears and he turns once again to face Joachim.

So did Madison ever find out you were running your Tumbler off her computer?

Joachim still doesn't turn to face him, but does respond.

No.

I think it would be really, really funny if she did.

It's Joachim's turn to slump back in his seat. He casts a lazy glance at the Engineer.

I can't afford to buy my own computer.

I'll buy you one.

Engy pulls out his own phone, opens the camera app and points it at his son, setting it to record.

Come on, she'll have a fucking coronary. It'll be GREAT!

Despite himself, the boy can't keep the slightest hints of a smile from tugging at him. He casts his bangs away from his eyes, which now bear the sparkle of something playfully malicious. He looks into Engy's phone.

Madison, I used your computer and your ISP address to blog about how much black lives matter and gay people matter and how girls can be healthy and beautiful at any size.

With a very satisfied smile, Engy stops recording, and with a couple more key strokes the video is sent to Madison.

I made that last part about “healthy and beautiful at any size” up. Do you think it was too much?

She'll buy it.

ELSEWHERE....

Madison Dyson is in her study, enjoying a glass of wine and watching reruns of her own show on Fox News. Her phone buzzes beside her. She picks it up, opens the message and presses play. The color drains from her features. Her throat hitches like she's gonna puke.

No!

Quick cut to the hallway outside Madison's study.

NOOOOO!

One more quick cut to the exterior of her palatial estate, where her enraged shriek actually causes some of the windows to rattle and shatter in their sills.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

One more cut and we're back on the bus. Father and son are both having a good chuckle at Madison's expense. But, a view out the window quickly brings that to a close for Engy. The group of protesters his son was about to join were arrayed in front of One Observatory Circle. An address Engy knew quite well.



That's Mike Pence's house.

Yeah, that's where we're protesting. Mike Pence is an asshole who has been an opponent of gay rights for most of his miserable adult life.

Did you, like, mention this to me before?

Yeah, pretty sure I did.

Oh. Shit.

What's the problem?

Mike and I are, uhhh, kinda friends.

Joachim's expression deadpans.

It's ok. I can only be disappointed if I actually had an expectation of anything more.

Joachim picks up his signs as the bus comes to a stop and gets up, scooting past his father without another word. But, despite the seeming nonchalance of his cutting declaration, there is a hint of something on the boy's face. He walks up to the driver, and hands him a worn looking 20 dollar bill.

Thanks for the detour.

Engy slides out of his seat, following Jo out of the bus. The boy walks towards the throng of protesters.

Hey, wait! Awwwww, come on! Don't be like that!

Joachim ignores him completely. Engy watches him hug a couple of the other protesters and start talking to him before he disappears into the crowd entirely. Engy sighs and looks at the Vice Presidential estate.

Welp, still no Father of the Year Awards for me.

With seemingly nothing better to do, Engy starts to make his way through the expansive lawn. A ring of police officers is on hand watching over the protest. One of them moves to intercept Engy, but upon realizing who he is steps aside for him.

Obliged Garcia. How are the wife and kids?

The officer smiles.

Officer: Yubia just lost her first tooth actually, Mr. Bright.

Well then I hope the Tooth Fairy is more than fair.

Once past the police barricade, he devotes all of his attention to the camera as the estate inches closer in the distance.

Top notch stuff as always Jim. Though I do have to correct you on at least one point. Alright, maybe more than one. But I will do so respectfully. Apologies in advance. I do NOT have a proximity alert device wired to my empty nutsack. It is in fact wired directly to my prostate. Close but no cigar. And by the by, the orgasms I covertly have every time somebody lays on me for that 1...2....not quite 3? Mind-fucking-BLOWING. You have no idea how much money I've had to spend on underwear this last six months but woooooooorth IIIIIIIIIIIT!

Engy chuckles and then throws his arms up in a sign of mock exasperation.

Come on Jimbo Slice, do we REALLY have to do this? You wanna talk about me blowing smoke up people's asses? WE ALL KNOW YOU LOVE ME. I mean, why the hell else would you have gone public with this hot take after I cashed in on Chaos to be co-champs with you?

€@£|)Ų$ REWIND!

Quote:"Are you kiddin' me, Eng'? This is actually one HELL of an exciting turn of events I did NOT see coming...and I love it. Consider your words seconded bro!"

That's how you responded when I went public about why I wanted to be your tag team partner. Those don't sound like the words of a guy who sincerely thought I was playing him, or that I secretly hated him. You were HAPPY as a clam then. So what changed? I haven't. I'm still the ambiguously good or evil depending who you ask silver tongued devil cum political hopeful forever X-treme champion I always was.

Nonetheless, I will concede that you would be an idiot to trust me completely. Hell, my own son doesn't even think I'm being legit. Which, did you catch that little bugger cuttin' a PROMO on me back there? I have never been so proud of the little do-gooder.

He clutches his hands to his chest momentarily as though overcome with pride.

Yeah, I'm shady. I lie sometimes. We've been over all that ad nauseum. But for those who have truly been paying attention to my actions since I got here, you would see that there is a lot more nuance to what I say and do than “Engy is a lying coward bitch boy who takes the easy way out”. For starters, I do right by the people who earn my respect until they cease to earn that respect. So let's address that big old elephant on the room named Robbie Bourbon. I swear that wasn't a fat joke.

Robbie earned my respect not too long ago because he took a gamble on me when nobody else would, so I treated him with respect. I told the world I wouldn't cash in on him and I didn't. I told the world I was a Motherfucker for life until THEY STOPPED TRYING. Granted, I did say I knew The Motherfuckers would lose at War Games because Apex was more unified. However, there was no way I could have predicted getting bounced from that match. Moreover, because I still respected Robbie at the time I stayed true to my word and didn't cash on him, even when I had a feeling he would lose and it would have been a perfect opportunity to do so when he was already beaten down and disappointed. It was only after the PPV, when Pig clearly ceased giving a fuck and Robbie utterly humiliated himself in that “match” with Imperial that I realized these guys sure as fuck weren't for me anymore.

My point is this. None of that was some grand Machiavellian scheme to get one over on Robbie. When it came to my respect, Robbie screwed Robbie. I am capable of being honest and forthright with people I like. And I like you, Jim. This is not some double-talk attempt at fucking with you or concealing some secret contempt. Though I certainly don't blame you for thinking that way. The tough spot I'm in is that I can't actually prove how noble my intentions are until Turning Point, so until then you have to take my assertions on some admittedly risky credit.

Engy looks up at the house, which is still bizarrely far away.

Just how big IS this fucking lawn?!

He takes a moment to wipe some sweat from his brow with his forearm.

Note to self: cardio like a Mo-Fo before Turning Point. Anyhoo, yeah Jim, I also never wanted you to hamstring yourself by jumping down the bromance hole with me. You're always at your best when you're cutting absolutely withering promos. So do it. Hype the fuck outta this. I mean, personally, I think the match is about as hype as it can get seeing as how we are universally regarded as the best of the best when it comes to XWF's “new guard”. We're both solidly at the point where people seeing our names next to each other in those lights is enough to keep Vinnie Lane in pink spandex eternally. I just so happen to think cutting you down is....kinda pointless. This match is gonna happen but everybody already knows we're cool. I'm not gonna pull any shady shit as I've already proven in the past when it comes to people I respect. One of us is gonna walk out with the Uni and we are going to go on as tag team champs after this glorious spirited contest and kick copious amounts of ass. You already agreed to train my son in the ways of “Zen and the Art of Main Event Maintenance” and we will continue to sit at the top of the card until someday maybe one of us gets the itch for Engy/Caedus III. Us trying to sell that we hate each other is a big old nothing burger. Maybe we can try again on our third inevitable go round and one of us can go full fledged heel. Probably me. Kidding! Maybe....

He flashes the camera a shit eating grin as he finally reaches the door to Mike Pence's house. He punches his finger down on the intercom key and leans into the speaker.

Hey Mike, it's Dex.

Engy whistles a little tune as he waits for an answer at the door. After what seems like, well, longer than it should take someone to answer the door, Mike Pence himself finally answers.

'Sup boss, how's it hang.....

Engy stops short. It's immediately evident that something is a little bit different about the vice president. Namely, that he's wearing dark wrap around sun glasses and has a white cane, the kind of cane typically utilized by blind people.

Dexter, come in! I hope the protesters weren't a bother.

Engy shoots a questioning look at Mike as he steps past the threshold.

Nah, in fact my kid's out there doin' the whole practicing his constitutional right to assemble thing.

Mike, cane tapping the floor out before him, turns to proceed down the hall. However, it's not long before he stumbles into a decorative table, sending the vase on it crashing to the floor.

Oh bother!

Hey Mike, you okay? Is there something wrong with your eyes?

Oh! Ha ha, long story. But you are, in fact, just the man I wanted to tell it to. Please step into my tabernacle.

Engy follows Mike down the hall as he haphazardly pinballs off walls and stumbles over throw rugs. They finally make it to Mike's private chapel. Replete with pews, an altar, even a mini-confessional, it's everything a born again God fearing Christian could hope for in a household addition. Mike carefully slides into a pew and Engy slips into the one just in front of him, cranking his body around to face the VP.

So what's the deal with....

Mike takes off the sunglasses, revealing that both his eyes have been removed, leaving naught but vacant sockets. Engy sucks in a gasp.

Holy burning fucking shit sack on a stoop, what in the seven Bajeesuses happened to you?!

Language! And...there may have been some taking of the Lord's name in vain somewhere in there too, I'm not quite sure.....

YOUR EYES ARE GONE! Who did this?! I will FU....UUUDGING beat the heck out of them!

Oh, that won't be necessary my friend. I removed them myself. I had to.

Engy looks at him incredulously.

You took out your own eyes? I'm gonna set aside how incredibly hardcore baller that is for a sec and head straight for.....WHY?

Temptations of the flesh, Dexter. Oh, but if I weren't such a weak man. So mortal. So susceptible to sin, I might not have had to take such drastic measures! It all started when I inadvertently watched an Apex Beer commercial.

Yeah, I saw that one. It was a good spot, aside from the puddle of goo that used to be a horse with regard to my formerly state.

Yes, well, the ad featured some buxom young ladies in it. Now, they kept talking about wanting the “D”, which I initially assumed meant Deliverance from the clutches of Satan. So I kept watching. And it quickly became clear to me that it was nothing more than smut. But before I could avert my eyes to a chaste photo of my wife that I keep in my wallet at all times I felt...a....a...STIRRING. You know, in my, uh, my.....

Your penis?

No need to be crude, but yes, I suppose so. I was tantalized by impure thoughts. PLAGUED by them. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I took out my own eyes so that I could never again witness such utter loin twitching FILTH!

But don't ya kinda need your eyes to do vice-president stuff?

Indeed I do. So, I have commissioned the Department of Defense to make me new eyes made out of the most top of the line cyber that we have. The eyes will be connected to a sensor implanted in my sin stick, so anytime something causes a stirring in my nethers, the eyes will immediately be shut off, protecting the purity of my mind and body for Christ. Isn't that WONDERFUL!

Engy looks somewhat unconvinced, nonetheless he grits out an agreement.

It sure does.

Now Dexter, I understand you are facing Jim Caedus very soon. So, I have a favor to ask of you. On behalf of my wife, my eyes, and my immortal soul....I need you to VANQUISH him for the dishonor his hedonistic commercial has inflicted on me!

So by “vanquish” are we talkin' beat him soundly for the Universal championship or....

Kill him.

Pence utters this death sentence with an eerily placid smile. Engy grits his teeth even further, looking decidedly stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Look Mike, despite what Caedus himself might tell you and the rest of the world, we're actually pretty tight so killing him is kind of a tall order. How about we split the difference and I make a sacrifice out of Jenny Myst? I'm sure she's caused plenty of soul deadening impure thoughts in men with very little taste. Jesus would be just as happy with that offering, I'm sure of it!

No! It has to be Caedus! He's taken so much from me. My wife used to wish me a sweet “goodnight” before going off to her separate bedroom. Now that she knows I have these...”urges”....do you know what she's proposed? She suggested bringing her bed into MY ROOM. We are a hop, skip, and a jump from full blown CARNALITY here Dex! My life is in TURMOIL!

Mike seems to be getting increasingly distressed. Engy cuts in with some calming words.

Ok, ok! I get it! Mike, I'll give it some serious thought.

You better! Because don't forget, this issue could just as easily bleed into your political future.

The not so covert threat hangs between them as Mike pulls himself up out of the pew and into the aisle.

Think about it.

Mike extends his white cane and starts shuffling out of the chapel. He almost makes it out the door before walking headlong into a font of Holy Water that splashes into his pants, making it look like he pissed himself. Engy suppresses a laugh as he watches Mike take his leave.

Now left alone with his thoughts, Engy peeks at the crucified form of Christ before returning his attention to the camera's all seeing eye.

Damn you and your sexy beer commercials! This is a fine mess. I do have yet another confession though Jim.

He glances over at the confession booth, shrugs, gets up out of the pew and heads over to it. He pulls open the door and slumps down in the chair. Knocking at the grating partitioning confessor from confessee and getting no response, the champ opts to continue anyway.

There was one thing you said that did get under my skin a bit and tempted me to turn this into the same kind of generic trash talk-a-thon that every other match on the show is. And that was when you said I was a coward. Or a “dickless coward ass-ranker” as you put it. Now, it wasn't so much the insult that bothered me. Hell, I've been called every name in the book. Many of them were well earned. It was just the sheer dishonesty of it. Like me, a lot of what makes your promos so cutting is that the things you say hold a helping of truth. And nothin' cuts deeper than the truth.

But you goin' on about me bein' nutless, and cowardly, and not a warrior and yada...yada....that really stung because for the first time I felt like you were just outright LYING. There wasn't even a pretense of fact there, just you shotgunning the broad side of a barn in a desperate attempt to HURT me.

What exactly makes me a coward Jim? The fact that I won't shit talk you? The fact that I said I was scared of you when even Finn Kuhn said he wasn't? Yeah Jim, just how well did Finn Kuhn not respecting the threat you pose end up working out for the little Kraut ? 'Cuz he sure as shit ain't up in here in the main event at Turning Point.

Fear isn't cowardly Jim....it's SMART. How many times have you and I run roughshod on overconfident little shits who didn't have the foresight to fear us? How many times has some young gun rolled his shoulders standing across the ring from us tellin' the world they're not afraid, all the while completely oblivious to the utter ass handing that was coming their way? How many times, Jim?

Fear is a defense mechanism. It's SURVIVAL. And it's the only thing keeping me sharp enough to beat you.

Engy leans his head against the grating, shooting the camera a sardonic look.

It's not just that though. You tryin' to paint me as the kinda coward who's always takin' the easy way out don't hold water when you consider how I built my impressive win streak. Because it wasn't on the back of a who's-who of the jobber class. In fact, that was precisely what I DIDN'T want. My in-ring defenses were going to MEAN something. Unlike the TV title, where the weekly defenses inevitably result in management scraping the bottom of the barrel just to keep things lively, I often HAND PICKED my challengers precisely because they were so well regarded. Just ask your boy Main. That wasn't a fight management forced on me. Once Vinnie dropped his rankings and I saw Bobby starin' back at me in that number one contender's spot I demanded a match with him. More recently, I did the same thing with War Pig and Imperial, who were numbers one and two respectively on the contendership list for my title.

Taking the easy way out? Really though? I have run full bore into the hardest possible fights I could find to prove to the XWF that I am not a man to be trifled with.

The easy way out. Heh. You know another way I ain't takin' the easy way out? Hint: you're watchin' it. Treating you with the respect you deserve is about the furthest thing from cowardice that I could imagine. In a fed that craves blood and humiliation at all costs, a feast I have served most readily time and time again, I have chosen the high road out of deference to a man who deserves that path. I mean, I LITERALLY just covered this topic in my last promo. Remember? “Having a code...having a line, that limits your options quite a bit.”

I could be spendin' this time trying to make you shook. Getting into your head. But I'm not doing it. Because that's what people expect from me. Because doing that is easy. I COULD break you down and make you look bad Jim, like I have in the past. But instead I chose the harder road. Because I'm hoping , when all is said and done, to prove that I am not the one dimensional monster that most people think I am. That I am capable of giving respect when it is earned. And most importantly?

Because I want Jim Caedus to stay a friend, no matter what the outcome.

Don't hobble yourself if you don't want to. You don't HAVE to play this the same way I am. But please, if you will accept one humble request. Don't lie about me being a coward. I have EARNED that much, damn it. I have fought fist tooth and nail to be the longest reigning Xtreme champion in XWF's modern history. Never declining a challenge. Chasing down the VERY BEST IN THE BUSINESS and BEATING them to solidify my legacy here.

Because you see, at the end of the day, it's not WORDS that make someone great. That make someone a legend in this business. It's ACTIONS. And mine are unimpeachable.

Engy presses his toe on the bottom of the confessional door, pushing it open. He hunches over in his seat. The evening sun passes through the stained glass window on the opposing end of the chapel. It depicts the temptation of Adam by the great serpent Lucifer.

We'll talk again soon, Jim.

He rises up out of his seat and ventures out into the chapel once more. The confessional door closes behind him, dropping us into the black.