Outside Dunwoody, Georgia - May 30th, 2022 - 4:16 AM

The night is sleepy. A dull yellow moon hangs, illuminating a cloudless cerulean sky.

A single Georgia state trooper squad-car has posted up, hidden behind a hill.

The officer, behind the wheel, a double-chinned snoring fella, his cap tucked down over his eyes… His boots rest on the dashboard. His entire body rocks back and forth as he restfully breathes…

Resting across his chest, the officer’s ol’ trusty Radar Gun. The officer has perfectly mastered the art of resting his left hand against the knuckle of his right’s index finger… applying juuuuuuust enough weight to keep the gun on.

One time, he accidentally went a whole 8-hour nap shift without pressing the trigger. Found out the hard way that apparently the bean counters at the police department can track that sort-of-thing. Since then, he’s put some HARD work and thinkin’ into how to avoid getting hassled for napping on the midnight shift.

No one ever drives the road this time of the night.

The only sound besides his snoring is crickets…

…

Wait. No… There’s a distant purr…

Slowly building into a growl…

And all at once.

ZIP!

A CHERRY-RED BLUR SCREECHES BY LIKE THE ZEPHYR WINDS STEAMING FROM THE FURNACE OF HELL!

The radar gun beeps and rattles!

The officer sniffs and slaps down at his chest.

“Snoooooooooooze button…. Fiiiiiiiiiiiiive more minutes…”

He rolls over on his side and the radar gun flops to the floor of the car.

With the reading of…

***

“TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-EIGHT MILES AN HOUR?!?”

The entire frame of Honda Fit rattles, as if its superior Japanese engineering was being pushed to its very limits.

Kato looks up at the speedometer for the first time in eight hours.

“Oh dear! Perhaps I should reduce speed… I apologize, Commander, this speed felt natural to me.”

NK is holding on to the safety grip on the passenger side with both hands… And has heels wrapped around the edges of his seat.

“Good Glorious Leader, Kato! How can FOUR times the speed limit feel natural to you?”

Kato blushes.

“I do apologize sincerely, Commander! It’s just…” Kato rubs the steering wheel with both hands, admiring its design.

“This is the first time in my tenure as a chauffeur-of-sorts… That I haven’t driven a car 40-feet in length! This design… I’m not certain vehicles were ever meant to be this compact and maneuverable!”

That moment, Flynn leans between the heads of the two Koreans from the backseat.

“Actually, Kato. I think if you ask most car manufacturers, they’d said cars weren’t meant to be the length of four basketball hoops… Nor were they meant to be adorned with EIGHT North Korean flags with the density of BLANKETS.”

Kato strokes his chin. “Ah! Perhaps you suggest reducing the thickness of the flags to limit wind resistance?”

“...Or just… don’t have flags at all?”

Kato gasps… “That would ELIMINATE the wind resistance.”

“FEH! FEH, I DECLARE” NK scoffs loudly. “Mark Flynn’s physics calculations are MARRED by WESTERN perception of aerodynamics. Everyone knows flags bearing the insignia of our blessed homeland increase engine efficacy, fuel efficiency, tire tread thickness AND windshield wiper lifespan! To remove them would lose those many, many net benefits! Furthermore…” NK sticks a finger in the air to punctuate his point, but the natural thrust of the still-screaming-fast Honda Fit drags his arm back against his seat.

“FOR THE LOVE OF THE GLORIOUS LEADER, KATO!” NK says, immediately drawn out of dismissing American math, back to fearful state. “REDUCE SPEED! I COMMAND YOU!”

“Oh dear.” Kato says, subtly and responsibly pressing slowly on the brake, decelerating from 300 to 275… gradually… “I apologize again, Commander! But… If I don’t focus on the task of driving exactly at the speed limit… this car under my control naturally climbs to maddening velocities…” Kato exhales, feeling every churn of the pistons in the engine, enraptured by this new feeling of 4 WHOLE CYLINDERS OF POWER under the hood.

Flynn hums. “Speaking of the task at hand…” Flynn turns to the corner of the backseat, where their tracker stares out the window.

“Hey, Hippie.” Flynn spits venomously. “We still headed toward Professor Kaye? When do I get to snap his arms off?”

UK glances over, dreamily and happily. As he turns, his head naturally drifts against the window “Ah… Yes. Please… Please don’t let him slow down. We’re rapidly approaching my destineeeeeeeeeeee. Peace among all soooooooooooouls…”

Flynn squints.. Then leans in. Closer…

Closer… Peering into… The hyper-dilated eyes of the United Korean Peace Officer.

Flynn sneers. “Are you fucking high right now?”

UK smiles and shakes his head. “I would neeeeeeeever consume… or inject… illicit substances into my person…” He giggles, before covering his mouth to restrain himself. “Doing such a thing would be… like waging waaaaaaaaaaar on my own body. And I hate waaaaaaaaaar in all its fooooooorms.”

Flynn scoffs. “Right. That’s probably why you pulled a gun on us back in Louisville, huh? Cuz of how much you hate war.”

NK giggles up in the front seat, his muscles finally relaxing as the car climbs back down to the legal speed limit. “Haha! Caught in hypocrisy by Mark Flynn yet again, Comrade UK!”

UK tries to raise a finger in protest, but his hand becomes heavy on the way up and flops back down to his lap.

“What yoooooou are obseeeeerving… Is the biological… Phenomenom… Menom… Phenome-MOM.” UK giggles as his mouth struggles against the lengthy word he wants his lips to form.

Flynn squints again. He grabs UK’s chin and twists it gently… First towards… Then away from the moonlight, observing how UK’s pupils wane and wax.

He releases UK’s chin. Looking into UK’s eyes. Not the way a person might look at another. But the way a mortician might evaluate a cadaver.

“Is this what happens as you get closer to another FXWer?”

UK smiles. He fights to lift his arm… trying to tap his nose in confirmation… But his clumsy hand ends up swatting at his own face.

“Eeeeeeeeeeexactly so.” UK giggles again, deliriously happy and placidly at ease.

NK turns around to the backseat from his chair curiously. “...Prepostorous.” He dismissively waves his arm. “If your body had such a response to being in close proximity to other FXWers… Why, in Louisville, when surrounded by your frozen co-workers, were you not similarly… impaired?”

UK, without lifting his head off the window, rotates his neck juuuuuust enough so his eyes can meet NK’s. “Yoooooou may recall… Iiii have been in solitary confinement since OCTOBER! Having been exposed to ZEROOOOOOOO… of myyyyyyyyy dimension mates…”

Flynn purses his lips, shrugging his shoulders. “Hmm. So, lost your tolerance for your fellow man, huh?”

“Soooomething like thaaaaaat.”

“Well, as least we have a pretty clear indicator we’re getting close. And we’re about to kick that sciency fucker’s ass and get back my code for the Kenta Kobayashi Maru.”

“Ohhhhhh, yes…” UK affirms, his eyes rolling back in his head, melting in euphoric bliss. “Nearly theeeeeeeere. Sooooooooo fuuuuuuuuuuucking cloooooooooooose.”

Flynn pouts, disgusted by this… display. “Hey NK? Open up the glove compartment, check if Spahtz keeps paper towels in the car… This fucking creep might… make a mess back here.”

“KATO. MAINTAIN. YOUR. SPEED.” NK says, clinging desperately to the side door again like a fly on a windshield.

“My word! Someone should turn down the power on this vehicle, eh, Commander?” Kato blushes, as his foot once again presses downwards…

“YOU ARE THE ONE IN CONTROL OF THE VEHICLE, KATO!”

Flynn sighs. He leans forward to demand his partner’s atten-

A hand on his shoulder.

Flynn spins like a top, angrily eyeing the peace-lover eyeing him from against the window.

“The hoooooour of my victoooooory… Is nigh. Soon, the world shall be awaaaaaaaaash in my peace.”

Flynn immediately backhands the United Korean’s sweaty paw off his shoulder. “Sure. You’re definitely in the best shape to achieve all your goals. Especially while the guys who stopped you last time are surrounding you AND sober.”

UK chuckles, confidently.

“While I appeaaaaaar the same as the War Criminal, I’ve had much time to think… And I beliiiiiieve. You and Iiiiii have much in common.”

Flynn coughs, scornfully and dismissively. “The only thing we have in common is we’ve both been high in the backseat of a car driving 300 miles an hour. The only difference is, I was high on morphine, not… the touchy feelies.” Flynn wretches with disgust.

UK slowly shakes his head, somewhat sobered by Flynn’s dismissal. “No, Mister Flynn. What we have in common is..”

UK rests his index and middle finger against his chest.

“We don’t lose twice.”

UK tilts his head toward the front seat. Flynn follows his gesture towards the passenger seat. Towards NK.

“Your… comrade… managed to pull the wool over my eyes. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.” UK chuckles, shaking his head. “His act as a blind, directionless buffoon left me helpless. And as I thought I was pulling the puppet’s strings, he came to life and wrapped them around my throat.”

UK smiles. “An impressive trick. One could even argue, a genius trick.”

…

UK’s smile vanishes in an instant. “And one that does not work twice. I will never make the mistake of underestimating him again.”

Flynn laughs. “Yeah, Bobby Bourbon keeps saying that he’s figured out NK. And he keeps getting surprised. I’ve seen you in action. I doubt you can beat him.”

Flynn looms over UK. “Or me.”

UK laughs.

“I think you of all people, Mister Flynn, with your belief in your… Optimal Path… Would be comfortable with the concept of DESTINY.”

UK meets Flynn’s looming gaze with cool confidence.

“When the stars align, when the fates have deemed it time. No obstacle can impede, nor any hurdle could rise high enough, to prevent a man with glorious purpose from rising to his full potential.”

UK’s hand shoots up, steady as a rock.

“Yours is to rise to the top of your evil corporate bloodsport, the XWF.”

In another flash, his thumb points inward into his own chest.

“Mine is to end violence in all forms.”

UK points back and forth between the passenger seat and the man before him.

“And while I won’t deny, you two are very capable, indeed. And that you’ve stopped me once before… With every foot we travel closer to Professor Kaye… My glorious purpose nears as well. And none shall be able to stop it.”

Flynn’s brow scrunches bemusedly.

“Cocky little prick, aren’tcha?”

Flynn tsk-tsks, turning to look out the window

“Your overconfidence is your weakness.”

“And your faith in your friend is yours.”

…

Flynn spins back toward the peacelover.

Once again, UK looks past him at NK, who is amidst screaming that if Kato speeds one more time, he’ll have his driving foot surgically removed.

“He’s not my friend. He’s a tool. A pawn. Someone who serves my interests adequately… For the time-being.”

“However you perceive him. The War Criminal managed to perfectly play the part of an underling working towards my desires… While masterfully manipulating me to serve his ends.”

“I must ask…” UK’s eyes rotate back towards Flynn.

“Do you really believe he is anymore under your spell than he was mine? That he believes wholeheartedly in your optimal path and isn’t using you… Like you’re using him?”

…Flynn’s eyes narrow.

“...Fuck off.”

“Your last adventure ended on quite the… unfortunate snafu. Him destroying the only computer… With data containing the possible identity of your target… the user of that computer.”

“Data that, of course, it eventually became clear that he hadn’t completely destroyed… and had kept to himself. Then, after he plugged the data into your computer… He gave total control to your new adversary, Professor Ned Kaye…”

“It seems only…” UK laughs. “Logical. To suspect foul play. That perhaps your partner has been compromised… Or never truly served your interests.”

“Are you so deranged in following your Optimal Path that you still believe your trust… In your…” Finger quotes. “Tool. Is still well-founded?”

Flynn grits his teeth.

“I already said fuck off once. If I have to say it again… I’ll snap your elbow at the joint until your hand is touching your shoulder.”

…

“...Hahaha.” UK finally laughs, after an uncomfortable pause… “Your threats are empty, Mister Flynn. YOU need ME to guide you. To inform your Optimal Path…”

Flynn remains hovering ominously over the peace lover.

“You don’t need both arms to point.”

…

…After a moment’s hesitation, UK smiles, lifting both arms defensively, miming a zipper across his lips, before again, glimpsing cheerfully out the window.

…

His objective is childishly obvious. Flynn thinks to himself. He’s trying to irritate me. Creating a base level of insecurities to erode my sense of security. To throw me off my game.

It was plainly clear... Because a strategy Flynn had approached every single match. To attempt to utilize Flynn’s own gameplan against him was insulting.

…

And still, Flynn found himself staring at NK out of the corner of his eye.

He’d be lying if he hadn’t found NK’s occasional flashes of brilliance… Suspicious.

Unlocking Robert Miles’ safe at just the right moment.

Saying just the right words to pacify the BOB-Anon and enrage him during the stand-off at the end.

Was NK an idiot that had stumbled ass backwards into victory?

Or…

SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Kato brakes the car so quickly, that the ass end lifts off the ground!... Before rocking itself slowly back steady.

Flynn and UK steady themselves, thrust against their seatbelts.

NK goes flying into the windshield and rebounds off of it, like a bird breaking its neck on the window of a skyscraper, landing back against his seat.

“DAMN YOU, KATO!” He says, rubbing a rapidly purpling shiner on his forehead. “WHY HAVE YOU STOPPED!?!”

“Well...The road ended, commander.” Kato points ahead…

And laying before them, just as the lieutentant has reported, the road ends.

Leading to a dirt path…

An old abandoned plant.

The vehicle is completely silent.

…Suddenly a click.

The lowering of a window.

All three men turn to look.

As UK sticks his head out the window…

And takes a deep, hearty whiff.

…

“We’re here.”

“He’s here?”

UK smiles.

“My destiny.”

“Is here.”

***

A black, unlit room.

Two voices.

“Hey, Vaughnie. Long time, no see.”

“Annyeong, Peter Vaughn!”

“Let’s see. Where did we leave off…? It has been a while.”

“Oooh, Mark Flynn! Perhaps if we start from the beginning, it will inform how we arrived here!”

“Great idea, NK. Let’s tell this story… from the beginning.”

Flash. A spotlight opens above. A stage is illuminated.

And entering from stage left…

We see. In a set of gray coveralls.

A marionette. That is like 70% forehead.

A Peter Vaughn puppet.

“Once upon a time… There was a silly, little toy. A slave to the machinations of powers well beyond his imagination…”

“A question.”

…An exhale.

“I just started the story.”

“And yet, I have a question!”

“... Fine, go ahead.”

“Where did the toy come from?”

“A land called… OCW.”

“Ah… Of course.”

“A joke. A company with talent that couldn’t failed to defeat the Bastards for months.”

“And a former undisputed champion that jumped ship and fell to the middle of the card…”

Flynn chuckles.

“But, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

The Vaughn puppet hippity-hops across the stage… Bounding and leaping.

“The toy crossed the great expanse, from the wasteland he called home… To the promised land all true champions seek… The land of milk and honey…”

Behind the puppet, a red curtain parts… And we see a golden, glittery swirling mechanism… Drawing the eye tantalizingly inward.

“The toy was exiled from his old home… And drawn to the promise of wealth and glory beyond his wildest dreams…”

“And…” …

…

“What is it, Mark Flynn? Are you taking a dramatic pause?”

“No, I’m just… ugh… Fine.”

That moment, a brick drops onto the stage beside the puppet.

It is labelled with a sticky note that just says ‘A Gorilla’. The Vaughn puppet climbs the brick and its fists lift over its head in triumph.

“After defeating a LITERAL GORILLA in combat.”

“Oooh, what a noble, majestic creature.”

“So fucking stupid…”

Suddenly… And in a flash…

A blade sweeps across the curtain… The Vaughn puppet’s strings snap and its wooden body flops lifelessly to the stage surface… Only a single strand of wire remains hanging onto its foot.

“After a single victory… A true champion of the land of milk and honey slew the toy easily. Revoked his power. The fear and mystery surrounding the toy… Dispelled in an instant.”

…Suddenly, the toy is dragged backwards by its foot off-stage…

“Before the toy could even argue its failure was a fluke, the two met again, on a neutral playing field, flanked by allies… And once again, the toy was defeated.”

All of a sudden, the toy is whipped back, slammed onto center stage. Its chest caves in. Its face cracks. Its right arm completely snaps off its hinges.

“If the toy’s quest was a test of its skill, it would have died then and there. Where it belonged. A corpse rotting on the side of a road called ‘mediocrity’.”

…

“But.”

“The toy’s fate had already been decided by the powers-that-be. The same powers that had held the hero back at every turn…. Had determined that the toy, despite its failures, would be crowned… King.”

Suddenly, from above… Like a downpour of hail… Gold coins fall directly onto the damaged puppet…

“Despite the Puppet’s failures, the Powers-That-Be.”

Flynn spits on the ground.

“Theo.”

“Had already determined that they would derive the most power from the puppet’s victory. And so they decided that, despite the multiple times that the champion had beaten the puppet… That the PUPPET would become King.”

“Mark Flynn?”

“...Yeah, NK?”

“Another question: What determines the aims of the Powers-That-Be?”

“Nielsen Ratings and T-Shirt Sales mostly. I’m trying to stay in the voice of a fairy tale. But… uh… the PUPPET… had an identifiable brand that the 25-to-54 demographic identified with. The whole ‘Woe is me… Despite all my talent, those in power don’t want me to be take my rightful place at the top’ really synchs up with millennials.”

“Hmm, that certainly sounds familiar… Wait! Mark Flynn! That is, in fact, our shtick!”

“...Yes, NK. That’s my point.”

While the tag champions have been arguing, the Vaughn puppet is now completely buried under the falling treasures… Which have trickled to a stop.

“You see, Vaughnie. When you first came here, I saw in you a kindred spirit. Another man born under a bad sign, that the gatekeepers had decided to pull their strings to limit your fate.”

“When I beat you the first time, it was with a sour taste in my mouth. Knowing that I had been made a tool of a system that sought to silence your voice.”

…

“Now? I see my view was limited in data. Extrapolating… incorrectly.”

“In six short months, you become a World Champion in four different companies. And you’ve become Supercontinental Champion…”

“Despite NOT having beaten Captain Corey Smith!”

“...Exactly. Peter Vaughn managed to cruise through the entire wrestling world… On a journey where he beat no-one-of-merit.”

“And never defeated us! OR Corey Smith!”

“Look back at your journey, Vaughnie. Do you think it’s… suspicious how easy title shots come to you? Before the ink has dried on your contract, you get a scared-of-his-own-shadow Jim Caedus.”

“The moment Corey Smith hangs up his boots… You wind up in a spot to cruise to take his belt. But instead of fighting champions of Corey’s caliber… You fight Vita Valenteen, who can’t win on shows that Sarah Lacklan isn’t running…”

“And Mac Bane, a has-been-from-companies-unknown who wrestled three times against Marf and made no impression.”

Flynn tsks-tsks.

“My initial assessment… Was erroneous, Vaughnie. You and I are not cut from the same cloth.”

“You are chosen. Blessed by corporate interests.”

“We actually have to fight tooth-and-nail for every opportunity. And as you saw at Bad Medicine? As you saw at Leap of Faith? Sometimes, the moneymen step in and tip the scales.”

“Out-of-our-favor. And into yours.”

“...But, here’s the difference, Vaughnie.”

“Opposition builds strength. Resistance fuels resolve.”

“And every setback is a guarantee that further shapes…”

“The Optimal Path.”

“And while you rest in a bed of gold, like a Pharoah of old.”

“On Warfare? For the third time in a row? The Tag Team Champions WILL defeat you.”

“And the gold you use to argue for your ability… Shall cave-in around you… And become your tomb…”

…

…

“And then?”

…Flynn coughs.

“That was it.”

“...Mark Flynn, when do we get to the dramatic entrance of the Comrade Calypso puppet?”

“...Yeah, NK. About that. I really don’t think we need to.”

NK audibly gasps.

“Mark Flynn, I ordered Kato to spend HOURS making this Comrade Calypso marionette!”

The chirp of a radio. NK barks…

“Kato! DEPLOY OPERATION CERULEAN WALTZ!”

That moment, dropping from the ceiling, a Calypso puppet gently descends…

Suddenly, as he drops, his wires tangle… He ends up landing face-first on the ground.

“For the Love of the Glorious Leader, Kato! Pull up! Up, damn your clumsy fingers! Central Command’s Introductory Puppetry Classes were All For Naught!”

The wires merely drag Calypso’s puppet’s face against the ground, rubbing it against the pile of gold that buried the Vaughn puppet… While its ass bounces in the air like its head.

…

“Honestly?”

Flynn chuckles.

“Kato is NAILING this Calypso impression…”

To Be Continued…