December 20th, 2022

The hallway leading downwards into the depths of the dingy building Ned had stepped inside had an oppressive sort of air about it, as if the dust itself was attempting to choke the life out of him. His mind drifted to the conversation he had with Darcy as he departed to come to this place.

“I know you think this is doing the right thing, but it's stupid, Ned!!” She had yelled at him.

He threw a few things in a small bag. Ned was well aware that she was correct, yet he couldn't bring himself to heed her advice. Instead, he merely continued packing, offering at least one bit of information to attempt to ease her concerns.

“It's just one match. That's all,” He declared, almost trying to reassure himself of that fact.

“Maybe, but you don't know if they have something planned or who you're facing! These are criminals! They don’t have your best interests in mind! What about the match on Wednesday? Isn't that important?”

“Of course it is, Darcy,” Ned said as he zipped the bag up, a few water bottles and towels getting settled within, “but I'm not going to let Steve's things get pawned off so I have a better chance of getting a title.”

“It's not that!” Darcy shouted, adding, “You could get killed! I'm not gonna stand around and watch you do that just so you can... try and feel better about Steve passing away! He's gone, Ned!”

Ned thought for a second, stepping towards the door and saying two words under his breath.

“Then don't.”

He should've said something kinder. Darcy was one of the few people who genuinely believed in him unconditionally, so disappointing her was never something he took lightly... but Cooper was also that. Kaye would've never met Darcy Ellis if not for Steven. He might not have gotten clean again, either. Sure, he had his obligations and every intention of following through on them, but he wasn't going to sacrifice everything Cooper had left behind just to focus on them. He could do both.

He had to.

Each step brought him nearer to the Evolved Combat Foundry, an underground fighting ring that managed to pick up massive debts from Ned's fallen friend and had “graciously” offered him a match against their champion, Brutonis. If he won, all of Steve's stuff got to go to its proper place, but otherwise... all of The Trooper's things... his legacy would be little more than collateral.

He wouldn't even get to keep his boots.

Ned couldn't let that happen. As he finally made it to the side area they had dubbed “The Waiting Room,” he saw the boss of the ECF. He was a pudgy, shorter man with a sad excuse for a beard slapped upon his chin and neck. Grinning, he offered Ned a cigarette, frowning as Kaye declined, but still lighting it up for himself. The smoke was pungent as he laughed a bit.

“You excited, kid? We don't get too many big shot wrestlers in here. You oughta feel a little good 'bout that.”

“Yeah,” Ned stated dismissively, “so when do I get to fighting your man?”

“Ohhh,” the owner spat before leaving to place his attention elsewhere, “don't you worry your little head. You're not even his first opponent tonight.”

Ned's head tilted, taken back somewhat by the statement, but he sat down regardless, observing the crowded area around the cage in front of him. It was a circular arena and his area was caged off as well, making him feel like some sort of zoo animal. He'd rather be in downtown Florida than some dingy cage like this with a thin door into a more dangerous one.

All of a sudden, someone sat to his side. He was a younger looking man, a bit of brightness in his eyes despite the harsh surroundings. A bit on the lankier side, all things considered.

“Hey!” He said enthusiastically.

“...Hey,” Ned responded flatly.

The kid stirred for a moment before speaking more, clearly excited about something.

“Would you mind signing my kneepad?” He asked, surprisingly having a grey sharpie on hand to stick out from the black leather of the pad.

“Why?” Ned was certainly befuddled, but he shrugged and began signing anyway.

“You're just a bit of a big deal for me. I actually got back into shape because of that gym of yours before it shut down. It just meant a lot to me and it was like the only affordable place near me... it means a ton to me.”

Ned smiled some as he finished his signature. He had never considered that he had this kind of effect on people by now... he was always used to idolizing a few, but not being viewed as one himself.

“What's your name?”

“Mike!” The kid answered with a ton of vigor. Kaye noticed the determination in his eyes as they called out his name and opened the main cage to let him in.

Brutonis walked in opposite Mike. He was a hulking specimen, more reminiscent of statue than man. He towered above Mike, the size of a few of his scars bigger than his opponent’s head. It was only a few seconds until Mike's face was gated against the cage. A few seconds more and the boy was bleeding, limp, and pummeled by the hammers at the ends of Brutonis's arms.

It took Ned shouting over the raucous crowd to stop the match. They carted the kid off on a stretcher, his kneepad glimmering all the while. Ned gulped, looking at his opponent, hardly winded.

It was his turn.

Ned closed his eyes and stepped inside their ring.

They shot open as the bell rung. The mass of meat threw an arm at him that Ned narrowly dodged, countering with a swift kick to Brutonis's core. It seemed to hurt the man a bit, but it was largely like striking steel. He tried to continuously outpace the man, but eventually, his luck worsened.

The punch landed flush on Ned's stomach, causing him to cough up a bit, his back flying into the cage. He doubled over, but quickly got to his feet again, eating another fist to his jaw, his face flying into the steel now. The cuts didn't hurt as bad as the impact.

Ned curled up a bit on the ground. He was likely outmatched and short on time. He cursed himself for not listening to Darcy as he looked out into the uncaring crowd, feeling their amusement and ridicule.

That's when he saw her.

Darcy Ellis standing there and rooting for him despite how idiotic this all was. Blood dripped from his mouth as their eyes met.

Get up, Ned.

His body refused.

Goddammit, get up.

His face bounced against the concrete, staining it red.

Before you had a belt, you got up whenever someone hit you down. Get the fuck up.

As Brutonis celebrated prematurely, Ned stood. There was a collective gasp as he smiled, taunting him with a beckoning hand.

“You'll need more than... that...”

The beastly man threw another punch... Ned ducked under it, letting his fist collide with steel as he leapt onto the man, getting propped behind his neck and elbowing Brutonis's head like mad. He tried to remove Kaye, slamming into the steel to shake Ned loose, but Ned's legs began to choke him. Eventually, it was all too much for Brutonis. He collapsed, Ned atop him until the final moment, where he stood on his defeated foe for the count. It was done. He had gotten Steve's things back. There was no cheering around him, but a wave of relief filled him regardless. He looked at Darcy, smiling. Silently, she did as well.

---

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Ned stood in front of a projector, his head down as he remained silent, a video playing behind him.



As it concluded, he looked up, with a cold, passionate focus he had not felt in a long, long time. He stared forward intently until finally he broke the silence with a single word.

“Legacy.”

He lifted the Supercontinental Championship from his waist and hoisted it over his shoulder, ensuring it was close to his heart. Closing his eyes, he shook a bit in place, feeling the adrenaline spread. With a single thought, his eyes opened once more, his resolve as clear as day.

“That's what this match is about. When you strip everything else away, it's two men fighting through blood, sweat, and tears over what the legacy of this brand is going to be. Now, I gotta give Isaiah some props. He is unhappy with the way he won. He knows it's suspect at best, but I still don't see him rushing to put Geri or Mastermind in this match anytime soon. King may have said some flattering things about me and I typically would appreciate that. Hell, to some, it might seem like I'm the bad guy here. But if you think I'm being too tough on him, it's because I am. You wanna know why?”

He crossed his arms, a frustrated look on his face as he shook his head. It was hard to ignore the disappointment in his voice and eyes, perhaps accentuated by the previous display of champions behind him.

“Because I've gotten complacent with the easy way before. I let it tear through my life, estrange me from the people I love, and turn me into some mangled up version of myself and the thought of Isaiah wasting all that potential to become like that strikes a nerve in me, I'll admit it. The timing can't be ignored, either. Any other day, any other match, maybe I'd be more forgiving, but that was his final stamp on Savage, a show with a hell of a history as well. That is the legacy Isaiah King leaves behind on that show: winning with an asterisk. And it makes me especially sick to my stomach, knowing he could have won fairly. As well, knowing now, that even he's aware of that fact. But some of my issues with King are just the arrogance that flies under the radar for a lot of people.”

He smirked slightly, a bit of levity added to his intensity, but his gaze remained equally piercing, stabbing through the illusory effect of King's words.

“He may have mentioned that he respects me as a man and a symbol, but I can read between the lines, and it reveals someone whom he thinks little of. He talks about how I'll get him stronger, but he doesn't mind singing my praises because he simply doesn't think they're going to get in the way of his win. Shit, the way he described me, you'd think this symbol of honor and courage was some piece of exercise equipment. Like a treadmill, something he can run all over to get a good workout. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, King, but I won't be kissing your ass, nor will you step over me to victory. If you want to win and do it right, you are going to have to go through me and, it pains me to say this, but you are too dense in every meaning of the word for that. Not just literally, but figuratively as well. You’ve let your ego cloud your perception so much that you seem to believe tonight is just a platform for your skill instead of the celebration of Warfare. And if you don’t recall, you said yourself that Ned Kaye is the symbol of this brand. And this is Ned Kaye, the man, letting you know that your pomp and circumstance makes you conceited and that makes you a fool. I know you're good. You know you're good. I don't need to inflate your ego any more, lest you start winning with more asterisks than without.”

He ran a hand over the title he wore over his shoulder, the glittering gold reminding him of an important, dear memory. After a brief second, he seemed to be firmly in the present moment once more.

“You see, what's so strange to me is that a lot of this feels like deja vu. See, my first proper title match in the XWF was a Universal Title shot at Robert Main on Wednesday Night Warfare. And I remember being told by everyone that I couldn't do it, even Vinnie making it a ladder match just to give me an outside shot. And what's so strange to me are the parallels to that match. Knowing that a few steps are all that separate myself from gold, except know the roles are a bit reversed. However, I still feel like that kid who has to prove everything every single week I go out there. And that's not to say I'm a Robert Main or anything, but I am largely in his shoes here. But the main difference is that while I still feel like I have to prove everything to myself; like I have to solidify that I belong even though I know I do, you don't, Isaiah. You don't have that feeling inside of you and that confidence will take you far, but not far enough. Because this treadmill takes you down a path you’ve not yet walked, at a pace you’re not prepared for, and it’ll leave its tracks on you long after you’re thrown off, flailing and screaming.”

He raised a finger and pointed towards the camera, as if King were right in front of him, just an arm's length away from the confrontation the world was waiting to witness.

“The key difference between you and I is simple: you think the world has to prove itself to you...”

His hand turned back, Ned's thumb pointing at his chest as he continued.

“...and I think I have to prove myself to myself. I've won three championships on four occasions, and I still feel that way. Hell, when I take that belt off of you, you know the people I'm going to look to face and put that title on the line against? Finn, Goth, Buster, and Vaughn. They all beat me on my road to the Supercon, but none of them defeated me. Losing is a condition, but defeat is a mindset, and they are consistently conflated by many, yourself included. You talk of fear during a match because you felt it when you realized you almost lost that match. Nothing about our match is going to scare me one bit for one simple reason: you cannot do a damn thing to me that life outside that ring has not already. I have been battered and bruised by cruel tormentors in my youth, but I got up. I fought through addiction until I wanted to give in and forget the rest of the world, but I got up. I lost loved one after loved one and felt the world slipping away in my fingers and felt the desire to throw everything about me away. But did I roll over and transform into something else when it was right there in front of me? No! I got up! Ned Kaye got up! I don't know when to quit, Isaiah! That's what makes me the spirit of this company and this brand! Through thick and thin, failure and success, bad times and prosperous ones, I always push onward because it is all I know!”

Each time he began to yell, he smacked his chest, letting the righteous flame within burn away his insecurities and uncertainties until there was a single, solitary bit of focus.

“At Final Warfare, you have a challenge placed against you that you simply do not comprehend, King. Because it isn't some average wrestler and contrary to your belief, it's not all about you. Legacy is about what we give, not what we receive. And under those lights, for the final time, I am going to drape both titles over my shoulders and give you some humility and the hardest fight of your goddamn life.”

His voice calmed as he spoke his intent to honor Warfare, regardless of his anger regarding King’s attitude and controversial victory. Ned took a deep breath, lowering the championship belt.

“Because that is what Warfare is. That's who I am. That's what it always will be, the night it takes place on be damned! Show me your best, King. I can't wait to surpass it.”

"You can't run from yourself."