A whistle sounded, the steam escaping the teapot as Darcy’s sister went to intercept it promptly. Darcy sat at the table, a few frilly bits of decor adorning the table as her fingertips circled around the rim of the cup. Abby’s apartment wasn’t some piece of masterful work, especially considering she only recently started living here again full-time. Her cancer was in remission. It was a miracle of sorts, but not one that could’ve happened without certain involvements. Still, seeing her sister with something other than a pale and weak demeanor was something Darcy was eternally grateful for, even if she was simply going to use the renewed strength to indulge in her old tea hobby.

"Heads up! It'll melt your lips off!" Abby said happily as she confidently poured the drink into Darcy's cup and then her own. It was something she picked up when Mom was still around. Darcy still recalled watching her create some medicinal, herbal sludge and their mother struggling to compliment the concoction. Simpler times.

“Yeah, yeah, you always say tha- YOWCH!” Darcy sipped the tea quickly and was given about everything she was warned about within the span of a second. She always seemed to scald herself on her sister’s tea, regardless of intent. And while usually, Abby’s obnoxious laugh after the fact was annoying, it was more than welcome to know that she was getting resembling her old self again.

“Warned ya,” Abby stated, sipping on her tea while Darcy stuck her burnt tongue out at her in defiance, “At least I get to watch my little sis be a doofus in the comfort of my own home once again.”

“It’s the little things,” Darcy gave her sibling a glare before taking a more cautious approach to her tea this time.

“Yeah, you’re right…. Hey, remember when I made that one “tea” and it was just dirt from the yard? And Mom pretended it was the most artistic thing I’d ever done until you snitched?” She laughed a bit as she recalled it all.

“Then you were grounded for a month,” Darcy added, snickering through sips as Abby gave out a loud, singular “HA!”[/color] Her eyes drifted to the table as the uncomfortable reality peaked its head back in. Darcy could feel it, too, without a word being spoken. She wanted to believe it was some sisterly intuition, but it was just the fact that you take the little things for granted until you aren’t able to anymore. Especially with family.

Abby thought to change the subject, a little worn out from grim discussions given the past few years, “So, how’s wrestler boyfriend?”

“He’s fine,” Darcy responded, reacting about as well as she ever did to being put on the spot, “and you know we’re not… that.”

“Weren’t you the one talking about how you wanted to be, though?” Abby gave a sly smile as her sister’s face became more flush.

“Back off, Abby,” she said with a stern tone.

The elder Ellis’s expression changed drastically as she thought about the possibilities, “Did he reject you? Do I have to kick that runt’s ass?”

“No, no, no! He just didn’t give me an answer yet. He’s been going through a ton lately. He lost a friend, he just lost a big match to some guy who’s really done a lot of bad towards him. I don’t blame him for needing time.”

Abby nodded, attempting to be more understanding, “I think you mentioned he takes losses really hard, even back when he was your patient in that Chameleon deal.”

“That’s what’s got me worried recently…”

“He’s really miserable, huh?”

Darcy shook her head, placing her tea down, “No, that’s not it.”

“He’s acting as if barely anything has happened.”

---

Darcy walked into the upstairs area of the Notorious Gym. They weren’t ready to reopen yet, but still she heard a rhythmic, slow drumming sound emanating from the office. Her date with her sister went well, but it did assist in reminding her how weird Ned seemed recently. He typically took all of this very hard, but he seemed to be acting as he had been. Curious, she stuck her head in, opening the door carefully.

“Ned? Is everything okay?” As the door gently unveiled the room, she saw Ned sitting at his desk, looking over a few papers, attempting to ensure that the equipment inside the gym would be up to date. He lifted his head, giving her a soft smile.

“Oh, hey. Yeah- yeah, I’m fine,” he forced out, slightly strained as he spoke, “how was your sister?”

“Burning my mouth,” Darcy said casually before thinking about what she had just said.

“That came out wrong, didn’t it?”

“A little bit,” Ned said with a soft chuckle, “still, I’m glad you had a good time.”

“She asked about you… about us.” Darcy added, gulping a bit. She was no good at this mushy, sincerity shit. There was something about vulnerability that she struggled with. She was sure that’s why she took The Chameleon job in the first place. Her embarrassment, however, caused her gaze to shift to Ned’s right hand and the blood trickling down his knuckles.

The pounding sound.

She looked up and saw a dusting of red on the brick wall of his office.

“Ned... you’re bleeding!”

“I’m fine.”

She pulled out the first aid kit and the room and grabbed some alcohol as Ned stared off into space, the facade beginning to crack.

“I don’t know why you’d do something so fucking stupid like smashing your hand into the wall-”

“I had him, Darcy. He was right there and I had him.” Ned trembled as he spoke, the alcohol beginning to coat his wound as she dabbed a bit on him.

"I let everybody down and it stings like… like...”

His hand recoiled as he winced.

"Like that!”

“You need to be still! If you wanna go fistfighting bricks, you’re gonna have to get used to this! So fucking chill out!”

He grumbled softly before offering his hand back, wincing through the stinging.

“What you need is a pet, Ned. Something to calm you down.”

"I have a pet, thank you very much. A cat.”

“You don’t have a cat!”

“I do! He’s just… not over here right now.”

“Then where is he?"

---

---

---

"One step forward, two steps back."

Ned glanced off into space. The lights on him seemed far more muted without the shining, reflective beauty of the Television Championship around his waist, an absence that was plain to notice by looking at his face.

"That's how this all feels sometimes. I've made it my personal mission to be the vanguard of this company's spirit and its hopes… and yet I stand here in the aftermath of a setback that frustrates me to my core. And across from me is a man who has taken the bold choice to stand aside me and one who has vanquished the devil that looms over me still. This is a rematch I've wanted for some time. It wasn't meant to be this way, Buster…"

"But I won't waste my time on what could or should’ve been. The forces haunting myself and this industry are something we are unified against and they’ll receive their comeuppance in short time, regardless of how much wind they pass. No, this tournament and this match is not about them, but us. About what ideals SAGA should embody and who carries that vision going forward. And unfortunately, Buster, you're not qualified for that job. Not by a long shot. That's not to get under your skin or throw shade. Trust me, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you seem to view us as a militia for a crusade, united under your guiding hand. That's not who we are. We’re a family, a brotherhood. I know Theo says all of that and I doubt he believes a single syllable. But I, Gloves? I take it seriously because Jason and Kido were there for me during an uncertain point in my career and without them, I wouldn't have gotten this far. You're walking into a personal space of mine with a cocksure bravado that, while looks very nice on a magazine cover, could risk tampering with how we've grown together. If we're going to be allies under this banner, I don't want a nice smile in a suit. We don't need a friend. We need a brother, and that's a distinction I don't yet trust you to identify."

"Friendship is walking on the coals of hell for another's sake. Brotherhood is doing it barefoot."

"And I wouldn't be so concerned that you could misunderstand us if I hadn't seen the ways you talk about trust. Maybe they didn't overhear you when you declared after your betrayal at the hands of Peter that you weren't going to trust anyone but yourself again, but I sure did, and that's shit's not going to fly. It's not even gonna leave the ground. I trust these men with my life. Not my career, not a match, but everything and I do everything I can to show them the same. I've pissed away connections before and I will be in the cold, hard ground before I do it again, even vicariously. Yet you don't view us as much more than a ready-made group of sparring partners, just a nice set of bodies to shove into the meat grinder of war. I don't want to fight with CCPE because they're some nebulous threat to pro wrestling, but because they hurt the people I care about and swallow the industry into the mouth of the most vile man I know. I don't fight for you or your cause, because while you've earned my respect, you've yet to earn my trust. But I know you, Buster, and we have some similarities in perspective. We don't speak long promos or fancy get-togethers. We speak a tongue of violence. It's a dangerous language, but it's what we know best. That's how we'll establish trust. That's how I'll know that you’re someone to rely on."

"However, that's not the question on everyone's mind, now is it? They're all asking how I feel after my last match?"

"I'm mad. I'm mad that I have to endure another second of that man looming over any part of my career! I'm mad that I have to once again hear people talking about how I don't belong while seeing someone else walk right into what me and my allies have got going! I've had to hear everyone speculate about my ceiling again and again. And every time, they tell me that I'm good, but I'm no main guy. I've got a chip on my shoulder, a bone to pick, and a tournament to burn. I've fallen more times than most people even try climbing this mountain. I've pushed through a million heartaches and I'll push through a billion more because I don't want the easy way! I want it to hurt! I need it to!"

Ned ripped the stitches out of his knuckles, the opened wound beginning to trickle out blood. It dripped down his hand as it lifted, his eyes staring daggers into the camera.

"BUSTER!! You wanna be my greatest challenge yet!? You wanna prove yourself someone trustworthy to fight alongside us!? You're not going to do it by signing a contract or being pleasant. The contracts I read best are drawn upon canvas and signed in blood!! You are about to learn what makes me such a valuable ally, and a threatening opponent. Every day is the day to prove myself! Every moment is the one to show that I belong! Because I walk the road to redemption one step at a time to the top of the mountain of March Madness!"

"No matter who I must walk through."

"You can't run from yourself."