RECAP As Corey’s XWF tenure winds to a close, he finds himself in the unenviable position of having his ex-girlfriend as his final opponent and challenger for his Supercontinental Championship. Despite this, Corey seems to be in good spirits and is looking forward to the encounter. But something isn’t right. Corey’s autograph signing was interrupted by a blast from the past, his friend and the son of former Universal Champion The Engineer: Joachim Bright. Just one problem. Joachim is supposed to be dead, as he was killed by Unknown Soldier during his feud with Lux. Another complication? Joachim seems to think he’s Corey, and brought a gun to the autograph signing!

Dad, can you tell me a story? A blond haired moppet curled beneath the covers of his bed. A litany of brightly colored Pokemon dot the comforter, which he pulls up to his grinning smile. Upon closer inspection, the child bears a strange familiarity. But you can’t quite put your finger on it.

A man pulls a chair up next to the bed. Oh, I think that can be arranged. He replies, but his voice sounds peculiar, as though it's distant or leagues underwater. The boy doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to notice that, when the man we can presume in his father turns to him, his face is like a smudge. There are colors and features there, but they look like someone rubbed a thumb over a dab of fresh ink, obscuring all. Which one are you thinking?

The boy presses a finger to his mouth playfully as he mulls it over. Oh! A Corey Story! He laughs at the little rhyme he just invented.

The faceless father turns to a small book shelf adjacent to the boy’s bed. Well, there are a lot of different Corey stories. He grabs for a book and pulls one out. We haven’t read this one in a while. He displays the cover of the book. The cover bears a shocking image. Madison Dyson, Shane , and Unknown Soldier stand triumphantly over Corey as he bleeds out his mouth.

The boy withers. I don’t like that story daddy. That’s why we haven’t read it in a while.

Hmmm. I suppose it is rather dour. He replaces the book.

Why don’t we read one of the happy ones.

You mean one of the ones that didn’t really happen? The father’s voice carries an unusual cadence as he speaks the words. Not dismissive perhaps, but resigned.

Yeah…yeah…one of those.

Well, there are as many of those Corey stories as there are stars in the night sky. How will I know which one to choose?

The boy turns onto his side, tucking a hand under his cheek. Just pick a happy one.

The smudge faced father turns back to the shelf and, after some contemplation, pulls out another book. On this one, we see Corey on the front. He’s bent low under a bridge, and seems to be offering some food to a homeless man. This is a nice Corey story. It’s the one where he grew up to become a social worker.

And help people?

And help lots of people.

Oh….that is a good one. Suddenly, the boy in the bed has been replaced by Corey himself. He still has the Pokemon cover pulled up to his chin. But naturally his frame fills out the bed quite a bit more. On the surface of it, Corey seems as contented as his younger self. Because that was his younger self. And yet, the microexpressions tell the tale. The smile on his face starts to lilt downwards. Something in his eyes hollows out. Something’s missing. Nonetheless, he says, Go ahead.

The father clears his throat, which again has an echo like quality, and starts to read. "This is a story about a young man named Corey Smith. Corey is a young man who went through a lot of hard things in his life, but has now decided that he wants to turn his own hardships into a desire to help others…”

Is Lux in this story? Corey is again the little boy.

The father pauses. No. No I’m afraid not. There seems to be an undercurrent of true remorse.

She’s still dead in this one.

Yes, Corey. She’s still dead.

Oh.

But Corey’s happy that he gets to help people.

But he still has a sad in his heart.

I suppose he does. A pause. Would you like me to read a different one?Another one that didn’t really happen? Here. He puts back that book and pulls another one out. On the cover of this one, we see Corey and Lux sitting on a park bench as the sun dips below the horizon behind them. They’re holding hands. They seem very happy here.

But it didn’t really happen. Again, Corey is his grown self. His features are set as though in firmament. His gaze is far, far away. Is it really happy if it didn’t really happen?

Oh, I don’t know. Isn’t that part of what makes a story so great? We can pretend nice things happen? Even if they didn’t.

Again, the boy. But is that a story, or just a lie?

The father pauses, a lengthier segue this time. I…I don't know… He seems flummoxed. Uncertain.

Can something just be true AND happy? That can happen, right?

The father’s faded face looks down. It can. Sometimes it can. But…it’s…it’s….

It’s what?

It doesn’t happen as much, you know?

Oh.

Do you want to read this story then?

The boy looks undecided. The view cuts back to the father’s void of a face. And then back to grown Corey. I think that story will hurt the worst. He has tears in his eyes now. One threatens to tear free and drop to the pillow.

I suppose it would.

Tell my story. Suddenly a voice spoke out from the shadowy recesses of the closet. Tell my story. Tell the story of how Corey and Lux failed me. Tell him how they failed! Joachim Bright appears in the closet doorway, features twisted into a righteous fury.

The young Corey shrinks beneath his blankets. He turns to his father for comfort, but he’s no longer there. Joachim advances towards the bed.

Tell him! Tell him! Tell him! Tell him! He repeats over and over, each iteration fiercer than the last.

When we again look to the bed, grown Corey is sitting up and openly sobbing. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!

Tell that story! Joachin screams, lunging for Corey. TELL THAT STORY!

Corey throws his hands in front of him to deflect the attack, and…

NOW

He opens his eyes to see that he’s still laying in bed. Albeit a hospital bed. Confused, he rolls over and comes face to face with Pan’s concerned expression.

Easy Corey, easy.

Corey’s head throbbed, and an initial bout of double vision disoriented him to the point he felt he may be sick. Tamping down the threatening wave of bile, Corey looked about the room. A nurse was at the ready, holding a penlight.

Hello, Corey. How are you feeling?

My head is killing me. And I feel like I’m gonna puke.

She leaned in. Hold still for me and keep your eyes as open as possible. She held the penlight aloft, the lithe beam reflecting off Corey’s dilated pupils. With a sigh, she pulled the light away. It seems as though you have a mild concussion.

What the hell happened?

Pan reached over and gave Corey’s hand a gentle squeeze. It was Joachim ,Corey. He came in with a gun. He tried to shoot you. The security guard and I were able to cover you, but your head smacked off the floor pretty hard.

The memory started to trickle back in. Corey reached behind his head and he could feel the scab of fibrous dried blood matting his hair. Then, with a start, he interjected, Oh my God, was anybody hurt?!

No. Nobody was hit. Joachim ran after he fired the shot. Security caught up with him and was able to get the gun away from him.

Corey looked despondent. I don’t understand! Why would Jo do that?! How…how is he still alive…? His searching eyes locked with Pan’s, but he could find no answers there.

I don’t know, ‘Cor. But he kept saying over and over again that he was you. He…Pan winced…he felt wrong to me. Like someone there and not at the same time. Pan alluded to his extrasensory intuitions. But the input didn’t make Corey feel any better.

Where is he now?

He’s here too. The nurse replied. But it’s not advisable that you see him. You need to be resting.

And, I hate to say it, but you may want to reconsider your match with Vita. You got your bell rung pretty good, hon.

No…no! Corey bit back, more harshly than he intended. No. First of all, I need to see Jo. Right now.

I’m not even sure the police will….

But Corey was already pulling himself out of bed. His shirt was spotted with some of his own blood, and his shoes were off. Pan stepped back with a look of concern as Corey attempted to stand erect, and immediately found himself sitting back down on the bed for want of a clear line of sight to the door. Oh…

Look, you need to…Corey sat up again, this time grabbing for Pan for support. Pan did so, but looked torn. Please Corey, you’re taking things too fast.

Just take me to Joachim. With a plaintive look. Please.

Pan looked at the nurse, who gave a resigned shrug. Okay, for a moment.

With a pained expression on Corey’s behalf, he wrapped an arm around Corey’s waist to steady him and guided him into the hall. Corey’s vision fluttered, and a fresh spike of pain was born in his forehead in response to the unrelenting lights. Despite the obstacles, they finally made it to another door with a police officer standing guard just outside.

I’m sorry, but you can’t come in.

He’s my friend. I need to know why he did this.

He’s under arrest, sir. For attempted murder and discharging…

Yeah, I know. I was there. Look, I’ll be quick. But I need to know why!

With an expression that was decidedly unamused, the officer stepped away and brought his radio up to his mouth. Corey could overhear half the conversation.

That Smith guy wants to talk to the perp. Pause Uh huh. We sure about that? PauseYeah, he’s cuffed. A protracted pause. Yeah, I’ll be right there.

With that settled, the officer returned to them. We’ll allow it, but I’m coming in.

Sure, fine. Corey relented. They pressed on through the door. Inside, Joachim was sitting upright in his bed, but he seemed about as worse for the wear as Corey. He had a dreamy, disengaged look on his face. No doubt the byproduct of some heavy sedation. And indeed, his left hand was cuffed to the bed rail. A ring of bruising settled deep into the flesh gave credence to Joachim’s attempts to free himself.

Pan, I think I’m good now.

Okay, I’ll be right here sweety. With more than a touch of reluctance, Pan let his grip drop away from Corey’s waist. Corey waded into the room, his gaze never unseating from Joachim’s form.

Jo? It’s me. It’s Corey.

Joachim didn’t respond.

Jo? Hey, look, I just want to talk…

This time, he looked over. His eyes were dull and lifeless. And at first, they bore no recognition. Who are you?

It’s me, Corey. Jo, I’m not mad about what happened, ok…

What happened? He questioned flatly.

Oh….oh Jesus…Corey whispered. Stepping up to within a couple feet of Joachim’s bed, he continued his conversation under the officer’s watchful eye. There was, um, an incident, Jo. There was…he shook his head. My name is Corey Smith. Your father was Dexter Bright. You may even remember me as Lux. We were friends. Do you remember any of that?

Joachim’s eyes started to tear then, his pupils shifting perceptively as though his brain were feverishly trying to piece this strange boy’s words together. Eventually, the dullness in his eyes lifted, and he let out a little combination of a gasp and a sob. Oh, Corey. Oh, what did I do?

It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re not even gonna….

What did I DO?

You’re not yourself, Jo. I just want to know what’s going on. I don’t know how much you remember, but the last time I saw you, you were…the incident came to him in a bitter flash of slick blood and screams….you were attacked by Unknown Soldier. He stabbed you. I thought you were dead.

Maybe I was… Jo responded cryptically. Then, lifting up his free hand, he pulled back the torn lapel of his shirt, revealing a wicked scar set against the skin on his chest. Is that what this means?

Yes, Jo.

It hurts sometimes.

I believe it. Corey licked his lips, thankful to have touched base with reality. They said you thought you were me. How come?

I don’t know. His forefinger caressed the scar. Did I die and go to Hell?

The question rocked Corey, and it took him a moment to piece together a reply.

No. You’re alive. But you must be scared. This probably feels like Hell.

I am scared.

Corey’s own heart pulled. He wanted to bridge the gap between them, hug him. Offer him some consoling words. But under the imperious glare of the officer, that was unlikely. Sensing something behind him, he saw a doctor entering the room. The doctor nodded to the officer for tacit approval and received it.

I’m just here to check your vitals. The doctor addressed Joachim cooly. So if you would please sit up. The doctor removed his stethoscope as Joachim sat up erect. The doctor then pressed the cool metal to Joachim’s chest, just above the pattern of ragged flesh. He made a peculiar expression, moved the scope a little to the left, and then a little to the right, before standing and tapping it. Must be something wrong with it. I’ll be right back. Looking befuddled, the doctor took his leave.

What was that about?

I don’t know. Corey turned to the officer. Would it be possible for us to have some alone time.

I’m afraid not. He crossed his arms, putting an exclamation mark on that point.

Corey, what am I going to do? How can I make this up to you? Panic was starting to break through. I don’t understand any of this!

It’s okay. I’ll get you some help. Any way I can.

Actually, Corey, if I may? From Pan this time. Pan gestured over to the far corner of the room so they can speak with a modicum of privacy. I know of something that might help. The waters from the GreatMother’s grotto can have restorative properties. If this was brought on by some kind of illness…

Mental illness? Corey offered, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

Yeah, mental illness. It…it might work on that too. Just give me some time, till this evening, alright? I’ll be back. Pan planted a quick kiss on Corey’s lips before departing, before Corey could even muster another question. So, he returned his attention to Jo.

So you like boys now? Joachim questioned plainly.

Corey smiled, a hint of rose entering his cheeks. Yeah, it’s a new one on me too.

I wish you would have known back then. I would have dated you Corey.

Corey chuckled nervously.

Oh, Jesus…I’m sorry. That was stupid, I shouldn’t have said that. He planted the back of his head against the pillow again. First I try to shoot you, then I offer to date you. I need to make up my fucking mind. His lips tugged back down into a frown. Something is wrong with my mind, isn’t it? I’m cracking.

Jo, we don’t know what exactly is going on yet. But…he leaned in, proferring up a whisper, Pan says he might have something that can help?

Like what?

I…I don’t know. But where he’s from there’s…ways.

Mr. Smith, can I speak with you a moment? It was the doctor from before, beckoning Corey to join him in the hall. Corey looked to Jo, who nodded, and so Corey followed the doctor out.

So, are you a familial relation?

No, I’m just a friend.

The doctor clearly had to tamp down a massive eye roll. Interesting thing to do to a friend.

Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I knew him before this, something happened to him.

I’ll say. That massive scar on his chest. Do you know if he has a history of any heart conditions?

Yeah. He was stabbed. In the chest.

I’m aware of that Mr. Smith. With some mild irritation creeping in. Look, does he have any family? Anyone we can contact?

I…no. No, I don’t think so…

I understand his father was a wrestler named Dexter Bright. I did some digging into him. Corey, you need to understand something. What’s happened to Joachim, it’s not really all that surprising. If profound mental illness runs in his family, as it certainly seems to, whatever assault he suffered could have triggered his own psychosis. Typically mental health issues manifest in a person’s teens or early 20’s, so Joachim is just right the age too.

So what are you saying?

I’m saying that if he is your friend, you need to temper your expectations. He could be a very sick young man.

Corey went silent.

If you can think of any other contacts, let me know.

Corey nodded, knowing full well that they were all dead. What few family members he had in the first place. Corey went back into the room, taking up a seat next to Joachim’s bed.

What did he want?

To know if you had family.

Oh.

Yeah.

Did you tell him I had you?

Later

Pan returned with a few bags of Chinese food later that evening. The officer, who was still nominally present but seemed engrossed in something on his phone, gave him scant attention.

Thank God, I’m starving and I’m afraid to eat this hospital food.

Pan placed the bags down on the table. It’s not just that. He hissed. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a small glass tincture.

What is that?

It may be the cure to what ails you. Corey responded confidently.

But, I’m just fucked up, Corey…

Stop. We’re going to try this. Okay?

Joachim nodded, and then they both looked to Pan, who in turn looked over to gauge the officer’s level of distraction. Judging him sufficiently preoccupied, Pan held the tiny container aloft.

You just need to drink this and it should help.

What will it feel like?

It’ll feel like…like, well, it’s hard to describe. Kinda warm and tingly I guess. Are you willing to try it?

Joachim looked askance at Corey, who returned his questioning glance with a steadfast one. You don’t have to Jo…

No, it’s worth it. I mean, what else am I going to do, wait until I lose it again once the meds wear off? I need to try something. Joachim reached for the tincture. Then, taking it in hand, with one final nervous intake of air, he removed the cork.

Hey, what’s that…?!

Shit! Corey cursed under his breath. Then, to the officer, It’s nothing, it’s just…!

And then, chaos ensued. As the stopper on the bottle was removed, a thin trickle of glistening water started to pour out. Joachim started to bring it to his lips, but then stopped, sensing something was amiss. Pan’s eyes narrowed, and then went wide.

Joachim, drop it!

But, the trickle of water from the tincture had already turned into a gout, and then an explosion of water that was far too large to have been contained by the tiny glass container. Joachim was pushed back against his pillow by the force of the water. Corey reached for the tincture and was also pushed away by the onslaught of liquid. Joachim instinctively dropped it to the floor, where it shattered, creating a sudden blast of undulating water that reached the bottom of the bed within mere moments.

The officer looked stunned and pointed at the rising water. The hell is that?!

Pan!

Corey, I don’t know….I don’t know what this is! But we have to leave!

By now, the water had continued it’s impossible expansion, reaching the mattress of Joachim’s bed and rising fast. Joachim was too stunned to move, and didn’t do so until Corey grabbed hold of his hand to pull him off the bed. But he was still cuffed to the rail.

Hey, officer! Undo his cuff!

What the fuck is going on?! Where is all this water coming from?!

Quite suddenly, they were wading in water up to their waists. Corey screamed at the officer plaintively. Come on! HURRY!

But the officer stayed rooted in place for a moment, until he darted for the door, sloshing in the rapidly rising liquid. But the expansion only seemed to intensify further, reaching their necks. Joachim was just barely keeping his head above water, when he went under. Hey! HEY!!!!

Pan, who was now treading water, looked to the door, where the water just seemed to terminate at the threshold. The officer was trying to leave, but seemed to be held back by some unseen force. Oh my God! Pan went to the officer, grabbing him by his shoulder and wheeling him around as the water raised above their heads, submerging them.

Corey dipped beneath the surface, putting his hands around the cuff about Joachim’s wrist and wrenching furiously. Joachim, panicking, let out a scream that dissolved into a glut of bubbles. Jesus, he’s going to drown. We’re all going to drown.

Pan, now underwater beside the cop, pointed at his keys, but the officer failed to notice in his fright. So Pan reached for them, trying to wrest them away. The officer responded by taking hold of Pan and a struggle ensued.

Meanwhile, Corey continued to fight with the cuff, planting a foot on the bed rail and pulling with all his might. But it wouldn’t be dislodged. He caught a glimpse of Joachim’s terrified eyes, eyes that screamed “I’m going to die.” More bubbles passed between Joachim’s lips, and Corey could feel his own lungs start to burn. But, reacting on instinct, he took action contrary to his own safety. Pressing his lips up to Joachim’s, he breathed some of his own precious oxygen into Joachim. He gave three breaths before he started to feel light headed. When their lips parted, Joachim reached for Corey, grabbing at his shirt. Corey’s world started to blur as it had with the concussion, but for completely different reasons this time. But, as his consciousness started to ebb away, he saw something impossible swimming towards them.



A haunting face, crafted from the water itself, was slithering towards them. Corey could just barely make out Joachim’s screams, sounding muffled and indistinct. And that was when Pan swam towards them, slicing through the eerie face with the officer’s keys in hand. Fumbling for the cuff, he started to unlock it, finally freeing Joachim after a series of tense miscues. By now, Corey was unconscious and Joachim was also fading fast. Taking both of them by the hand, Pan swam towards the doorway, through which a crowd of stunned nurses had gathered to marvel at the impossibility just beyond the threshold. Reaching the edge of the water, Pan found to his horror that he too was stopped by the same force as the cop.

No, no, no! He howled into the water. STOOOOOOP! And then, just as soon as it started, the water simply dissolved in the blink of an eye. All three of them dropped to the floor. Joachim groaned and sputtered, and Corey wasn’t moving at all. Pan scrabbled towards Corey and immediately started compressions into his abdomen. After a brief but fraught passage of time, Corey started to cough up water. He rolled onto his side, gagging and vomiting, as Pan laid next to him, breathing a sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, not far from them, the officer was also recovering, spitting out water as he groggily pushed himself up to a kneeling position. The nurses flooded into the room, eyes still wide with fear and amazement. Pan was surprised when Corey reached up to grab his forearm.

…what happened?

Later

What happened? The query was an echo of the one Corey had uttered not even half an hour ago. But as Joachim was affixed to his bed (in a much drier room), Pan and Corey sat in a nearby waiting room, leaving puddles in their wake as more police officers interviewed the hospital staff trying to ascertain the same thing Corey was.

Pan was at a loss. Corey, I’m not sure. I’ve never seen the magic react like that before.

We almost drowned, Pan.

I know! Frustration was starting to creep in. But…and then, he paused. Wait…

What?

I think I have a guess as to what happened. He frowned. But you’re not going to like it.

Just tell me.

Pan sighed, casting a quick look at the officers before looking back at Corey. The magic may have reacted that way because it detected something wrong with Joachim.

Yeah, we know there’s something wrong with him.

No. I mean, something wrong with him. Like, “dark magic” wrong.

Whoa, whoa, what are you saying?

Corey, think about it, we know nothing about how he returned. Or why. He tried to kill you for godsakes. And if there is something…evil....inside of him, the magic may have been responding to that.

Corey looked incredulous. Joachim is one of the kindest, gentlest people I’ve ever met.

Do we even know if that’s really him?

The question quieted Corey in an instant. How do I know it’s him?

We don’t know anything about what’s going on here. Pan put a hand over Corey’s. That may not be your friend in there. Pan breathed out another harried sigh. And now I have to try to explain what the hell just happened to a bunch of normies. Hell Corey, I may need to disappear for a little while.

But I need you!

I just exposed magic to a whole host of cops and hospital workers who’s only frame of reference is Harry Potter. This is deep shit, man.

Corey started to reply, but then stopped, consigning to nod his head in acceptance. I get it.

But look, I’ll do whatever I can to try to figure this out in the mean time. And, it probably goes without saying, but Joachim or not, you need to tred carefully here. Okay?

I understand.

Good. He looked at the police again. I’m going to try to do some damage control. You think they’ll believe a burst pipe?

They may WANT to believe that.

Too true. Pan leaned in and kissed the top of Corey’s head before parting from him.

Jesus, what the hell do I do…?

Words.

Let’s get this out of the way first. Vita, you just ate a loss from the woman who was too shook to even get in the ring with me. Talk about TERRIBLE timing, that. Right before our match. Yeesh!

So how do you think that looks on you, hmmm? That you couldn’t stack up to the person who was so sure she would lose to me she couldn’t even be arsed to show up? Side bar: how does she still have a job? I guess your buddy Luckland’s influence travels further than I thought.

But hey, I will offer you one concession. You said the talent pool that I’ve been facing has been lackluster, and you’re not completely wrong. Granted, I have defended against a former Xreme Champion and a former Universal Champion, but I guess we won’t get bogged down in the details, eh? Lately, the competition has been DOUR.

And, again, it isn’t like I haven’t tried to right that ship. I wanted my match with Angie Vaughn to be BIG TIME. She’s one of the most decorated outsiders to step through our doors in ages. She should have given me a helluva match. A title reign defining match.

We all saw how that went.

But hey, now I got Vicious Vampire Vita Valenteen to contend with. A young woman who has amassed a considerable number of accolades in her own right.

And a loss to someone who no showed me. (No, that still hasn’t gone away. Sorrrrryyyyyy!)

Ya know what though, there is one thing that confuses the hell out of me. This notion that Vita seems to have that if I don’t hate her that I’m not bringing my all. I mean, number one, I will NEVER look at you like I look at Thad under ANY circumstances. I mean, have you seen that impish boyish smile? Those playful bedroom eyes? That fantastic bone structure? Don’t get me wrong, you’re certainly not unattractive Vita, but Thad’s just next level Hotty Mc-Still-Strictly-Platonic-Hotness.

But this thing, this notion that I have to hate you to leave it at your doorstep? I don’t get it. I don’t. Not all of us are insufferable rage monsters that have to Hulk-out to have a chance at winning a match. In fact, I’ll let you in on a secret.

I haven’t been angry at the vast majority of people I’ve beaten.

It’s true. It’s bad for you, and it’s true. You gain ZERO advantage from me not being a primadonna pissbitch going into this thing. Nada. Zilch. Bupkis. I win matches with a clear head even MORE easily than I do with a muddled one. Scratch another one for you.

Wanna scratch another one? Okay. You seem to be master class at maintaining cognitive dissonance. Google it. Because out one side of your mouth you admit that Lux was not at her best the last time you squared off. And then, out the other, you say you’re no longer making apologies for your wins, and that it’s not your fault a master class assassin wasn’t ready for a 17 year old rookie. And you’re right. It wasn’t your fault.

It was mine.

I was the one holding Lux back. We went over this. It’s not an excuse. Hell, it’s not even a deliberate attempt to take anything away from you. It’s just a FACT. You beat Lux when she was a fraction of a fraction of what she was truly capable of. Your win, such as it was, has a big ol’ asterisk next to it. And I’m truly sorry if that doesn’t comport with the narrative you desire, but it’s the narrative that is objectively true. I’m not making excuses for Lux. I’m telling you that I was the 165 pounds of newly alive suck that was keeping her from being at her best.

We done? Oh noooooo, of course we’re not.

Know why? Because Vita doesn’t know what drives me. She knows what motivated Lux. She knows what motivated The Engineer (or at least, she thinks she does. Hint, hint, it WASN’T legacy). But me? Alas, I am a rudderless dinghy tossed about in a storm! A boy devoid of true motivation. Missing that intangible something something that propels one towards true great-

Oh, wait, that’s right I won Leap of Faith and co-won War Games.

Heeeyyyy-zoooos Christo, that is a mighty tall order for someone who can’t find their motivation. And maybe you just weren’t AWARE. Maybe you were on important vampire business at the time. But from where I’m standing, you don’t accomplish shit like that being a lackadasical waster.

If there’s one thing that came the closest to making me angry at you, Vita, it’s that. Not only are you as incorrect as incorrect can be, but that one throwaway remark shows that you haven’t paid me the slightest iota of attention over these last couple years. Not that I need the attention mind you, but if you’re going to pretend to reach into my head and pull out the wiggling worms of my own listless asshattery, maybe you should have at least tuned in every once in a while, hmmm?

So, for the benefit for the goth kid sleeping in class, here’s what drives me. I want to do Lux’s memory proud. I want to make all those people living back on my commune proud. And, last but certainly not least, I just want to push myself to be the best damn athlete I can be. Turns out you don’t have a monopoly on that, no matter how many creepy hasbeens you’ve turned to for advice. And speaking of which, if you’re thinking a Sharpshooter of all things is going to be your meal ticket, I have some terrible, terrible news for you. Because not only is that one of the most well scouted, well known submission holds in history, but turns out it takes a hit against opponents with a ton of leg strength. Like the kind of leg strength that comes from, oh, I don’t know, being able to kick people’s faces off? Good luck with that!

Vita, you don’t have to worry about a tainted victory because I got one foot out the door. Nobody’s going to look back on this and say “well of course Vita won, Corey was done”. Because, simply put, you’re not going to win. My employment status is irrelevant to the amount of passion and drive I’m gonna forcefeed this match. I fully intend to go out of the XWF the same way I came in…the same way I’ve maintained for two years….I’m going out a winner. You may not be facing the Corey Smith who’s staring daggers at Thad Duke, but you are facing the Corey Smith that’s been a champion for going on seven months. The same Corey Smith who beat luminaries like Jim Caedus and Doc D’Ville at Leap of Faith. The same Corey Smith who meticulously devised the fighting force to end all fighting forces at War Games to come out on top of damn near the entire roster. Yes, Vita, YES…you’re facing THAT Corey Smith! And that, my friend, should give you some serious cause for concern.

A pause ensues before Corey continues.

Alllll those pleasantries aside though, believe it or not I am glad this last match is against you. Not because I want some misguided revenge. And not because I think it’s going to be easy. I know you’re not going to make it easy. But because, as I alluded to before, I think you’re a decent person on the whole. You’ve made mistakes, but glass houses, stones, all that. I think your heart’s in the right place now though. Plus, you’ve been busting you ass trying to prove something. And I’m really glad you’ve realized you have nothing to prove to Sarah, because you don’t. Do this for you. Empty out everything you’ve got in this match for YOU. Because win or lose, I think you’re going to come out of this looking like a star. And, down the line, whatever becomes of this championship, I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing it about your waist.

Now, let’s do this thing and go home.

Elsewhere….

If they say eyes are the window to the soul, then Joachim’s eyes have unwittingly been opened into the darkest soul there is.

The image was hazy about the edges, with the acuity growing clearer and clearer the closer you got to the center. It was more than sufficient for Madison Dyson’s purposes. She could see it all through Joachim’s eyes, including the near death of one Corey Smith. Oh, how that tingled. He was so close. So close! Madison could still feel it in her newborn appendages.

And though, the assassination attempt itself had not succeeded, her goal of weaving ever more chaos and tumult into Corey’s every day existence was no doubt a success. She stood, gazing down into that blackened pool, that alchemical anchor to the eyes of Joachim Bright. That black bond that held them fast together, like some sort of vile umbilical.

You want war, Corey? You’ll have it. And after I break you down and end your story for good, I think I’ll set in on your precious XWF. Nobody likes a quitter Corey. She smirked. Good thing I never quit.



Besides, I’ve always wanted to do what you never had the stones to do. Heh. Yeah. I’ve always wanted to take a crack at that prick Alias.

Her finger tips danced on the surface of the oily liquid, destroying the image seen through Joachim’s eyes as the shot cuts to black.