“They… usually… retire-slash-disappear.”

…

“Retire-slash-disappear.”

…

“Retire-slash-disappear.”

Flynn sits alone at the end of the executive table (the one he stole from XWF Headquarters).

His suit crumpled from sagging shoulders. His hands in his lap, having torn his tie from his neck… As his eyes wildly calculate, spinning and whirring in his sockets…

Literally, less than a month ago, Flynn was the SUCCESS STORY™. The top of the food chain. The Universal champion.

Now? He’s nothing.

…

WHAM! Streaming through the door! A folder in one hand and a stack of food boxes in the other! Irwin, Flynn’s #1 (and only) fan.

“All right! Back with lunch! Came straight from Denny’s, your favorite spot for a pick-me-up!”

Flynn glances up as Irwin, with surprising agility, sways across the room, gently balancing the styrofoam white to-go container in his palm… As he eases the box onto the surface of the table… As gently as one would push a ship with a Viking’s corpse resting in it. Sailing gently into the lake, temporarily beautiful.

Before being lit by a flaming arrow. Turning the whole thing to wet ash and soot.

…Flynn pushes away the box.

“I don’t NEED a pick-me-up, Irwin.” Flynn snorts. “I’m OK. No, better than Ok, I’m fucking AMAZING.”

Irwin sets down his own box and takes a seat, glancing over at Flynn… At which point, his brow furrows with concern.

“...Sir, it seems you’ve… *hrm*... tangled your tie into a noose.”

…Flynn looks down at his hands.



…

Yep, that’s a noose. A noose with little monogrammed trademark symbols. But a noose nonetheless.

…

Flynn clears his throat. “This is… knot-tying exercises.”

“...Knot-tying?”

“KNOT-TYING.” Flynn defiantly lifts up his noose, proudly demonstrating it.

“Tying knots is a great way to develop GRIP STRENGTH, I-man.” Flynn squeezes his fist, flexing his hand muscles. “Do you even COMPREHEND how VITAL HAND-and-FINGER strength is for submission wrestling? You think I can afford to have a LOOSE GRIP on a FUJIWARA ARMBAR?!?”

…Irwin stammers. “O-o-of course not, sir!”

Flynn smiles, pleased to have dismissed the theory that he’s somehow sad.

…Irwin nods at the scrap of paper next to Flynn.

“And uh… That paper towel, where it appears you wrote…” Irwin squints down at it. “Last Will and Testament?”

…

“OH!” Flynn barks increduously, in disbelief that Irwin is connecting this tenuous, minor dots. “So I’m NOT ALLOWED to get my affairs in order unless I’m depressed?!?! IS THAT IT?”

…Irwin picks up, showing it to Flynn.

“It just says ‘Bury me with my title belts… As far away from Battle Creek as geographically possible.”

…

“Correct.”

Irwin exhales… But dons a smile as he lifts his folder!

“Mister Flynn, I know you’re anxious ab-”

“FEH!” Flynn spits irritatedly, balking at the idea that he could have a SINGLE anxiety about ANYTHING.

…Irwin bites his tongue.

“...I know you’re concerned abo-”

“BAH!”

…

“Okay. You’re… cognizant that you need a new angle?”

…

Flynn leans back in his chair. “Go on.”

Irwin slides the folder across the desk.

“Okay. So, anticipating your whims, I’ve used my lifetime of wrestling fandom to curate and compile the most popular heel wrestling archetypes…”

…A smile slowly spreads across Flynn’s face.

“...Ahhhhhh. So, we’ll just find an archetype I haven’t done already…”

“And use it as a starting point!” Irwin nods, as he flips through the pages of the folder.

“Not bad, Irwinner.” Flynn slides his boots up on the table, crossing his arms behind his back smugly. “Just got pick through the bones of the talentless hacks of wrestling’s yesteryears and spin a wretched corpse into ENTERTAINMENT GOLD.”

“Yep, that’s the game.” Irwin smiles as he slips a paper in front of Flynn. Flynn slips his boots back to the floor to press his face to the page…

“So, first archetype: The Cheater."



"He refuses to fight fair. He pulls shenanigans and props to shift things to his favor.” Irwin shakes his head. “Obviously, this one’s a no-go, because you already d-”[/white]

“Because I would NEVER cheat.” Flynn spits on the ground. “I refuse to ever break rules. EVER!”

…Irwin squints. “Sir. Without challenging your sense of self… You weighted AND greased your boots last week so Thunder Knuckles couldn’t give you the Thunder Strike.”

“A LEGITIMATE and LEGAL strategy!”

“...Mister Flynn, We literally exploded a mechanical gorilla. For mini-golf.”

“FEH!” Flynn coughs dismissively. “Point me to the rule in the mini-golf rulebook that says you can’t explode course components.” Flynn shakes his head, smashing his fist against the table. “I merely BEND the rules. I’m an ELITE COMPETITOR.”

“...Fine, sir. Yes, we can’t do that angle because you’d… NEVER cheat.”

Flynn nods, satisfied.

…Irwin sighs, pushing another paper across the table.

“Next is the Narcissist."



"A person who loves themselves and will never stop shit talking about how great they are.”

…

“...Okay.” Flynn sighs. “Even I’M self-aware enough to say ‘been there, done that’.”

“Great, moving on.” Irwin pulls that sheet away and replaces it with another…

“Foreigner Heel."



"He’s not from here! And he stands for everything you don’t stand for!”

Flynn’s face lights up!

“Ooooooh! That sounds different! Just need a minor connection to another country.” Flynn’s thumbs excitedly flit across his phone’s screen. “I can order a 23-and-me Test right now!”

“...See, actually, sir. You kinda already did this angle… By proxy.”

“...Proxy?”

“Remember the eight months you tagged with North Korean War Criminal?”

…

“Vaguely.”

“You marched down the ring to the North Korean National Anthem as a choir of North Korean vocalists accompanied a North Korean marching band, waving North Korean flags?”

…

“Sigh, okay, fine…”

…

Flynn hits ‘order’ on the 23andme.com test kit.

“Just in case.”

“Then, we’ve got the Psycho…



"Arsonist or maniac, assaulting people willy-nilly, injuring your coworkers…”

Flynn squints. “I just… *randomly* attack my coworkers? Jeez, sounds like an HR nightmare…”

“...Not to mention you already did that as the Beast back in 2012.”

…Flynn clears his throat. “Okay, in my defense, management at the time booked me against an ESCAPED SERIAL MURDERER. It was either get crazy or get murdered.”

“Speaking of management, there’s the Authority Figure."



"Essentially the chosen champion of management. Appointed by the company to be a TOP GUY. Frequently lords their power over everyone like a child tyrant king emperor…”

“Ooooooh…” Flynn coos, intrigued. “Now, THAT sounds like the perfect job for me… Let’s do that.”

…Irwin straightens his papers.

“Well, first off, sir. You kind of… just stopped doing that. The whole ‘Record Profits’ saga…”

“RECORD PROFITS™, BAY-BEEEEEEEE!”

“...Was essentially if an Authority Figure was self-appointed. You insisted that your reign was Best for Business. You took credit for the XWF’s success as your own. You basically declared yourself the owner of the entire company.” …Irwin puts the pages away. “Which is probably the reason Mister Pryce wouldn’t be very EAGER to make you a… corporate champion.”

“...Ugh. Right.” Flynn groans, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Theo…. FINE. What’s next?”

…

Irwin coughs, shuffling through his papers.

“Um… No.”

…

“No?”

Irwin checks his papers one more time…

“No, yeah. Yep, we’re out of archetypes. You’ve literally been every kind of heel that has ever existed.” Irwin flips the pages on their side, literally desperately searching for a new angle… Nope. “Sometimes, multiple of them at the same time.”

…

“That’s impossible.” Flynn sneers. “I can’t have been everything… There are so many things to be!”

“Yeah… You’d think so, but…” Irwin scratches his chin…

…

“Oh!” Irwin snaps his fingers. “Actually, I have a visual aide!”

Irwin reaches into his folder and slips across a printout.



“See. This is the entire spectrum of heel wrestling. On a continuum of chaotic to lawful… And from Evil to…”

…

“Actually, one sec.” Irwin pulls out a red highlighter and starts marking up the page.

…

“There we go.”



“From evil to slightly less evil.”

“Now, as you can see… You’ve done… ALLLLLL of it.”

…Flynn squints down at the page… Desperately searching for a solution.

There’s none, Mark. Give up.

“But, don’t worry, sir! We just need to brainstorm! Come up with a new idea! Something completely unseen and unheard of in the industry! A complete twist that turns the entire paradigm on its h-”

Flynn slams his finger on the page.

“What about that top row?”

…

“Top row?”

“Yeah, you didn’t mark any of my past in the top row.”

…Irwin glances down. His face relaxes with comprehension.

“Oh right. That’s the row for face alignments. Anyway, we c-”

“Great, I’ll do that.”

…

“Do what?”

“I’ll be a face.”

…

……


“Pffffffffff HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” Irwin doubles over on the table, laughing. Beating his nerdy fist against the tabletop, as his lungs exhaust all their oxygen to exert utter incredulity.

…Flynn is unamused.

“I mean, if I put my mind to it…”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” Irwin might fucking actually die. He’s beating his chest, trying to keep his heart from stopping, laughing so hard.

“Hey.” Flynn snaps his finger at his minion. “SHUDDUP! SHUT UP, I SAID!”

…

Irwin is exhausted, drenched in sweat from sheer laughter. He guffawed so hard, it became exercise.

“I’m… *phew*... I’m sorry, sir. I get that you want to do something new… It’s just… C’mon… FACE Mark Flynn?” Irwin starts giggling anew at the idea of a benevolent Flynn.

SMASH! Flynn rams his fists against the table, rising to his feet.

“Oh, you think I fucking can’t, Ir-dawg!?!?”

Flynn sticks a finger in the air.

“HEAR THIS, IRMANO! I swear with every breath in my FUCKING BODY! To not just be a face, but I will be the XWF”s GREATEST FACE WHO EVER LIVED…”

…

“Even if it means having to be…”

Flynn snarls.

“Gooo-ed.”

…

“Gooo-ed?”

“Yes, gooo-ed. The opposite of evil.”

“...Do you mean… good?”

“...It doesn’t rhyme with food?”

Irwin shakes his head.

Flynn blushes. “I’ve only ever seen that word written.”

***

“I get it. I get the skepticism.”

“How can Mark Flynn, the MOST HATED MAN IN THE XWF for the last ELEVEN YEARS… Turn around and declare himself the Greatest Face of All-Time.”

“To which I must counter, have you seen the faces around here?”

“I basically win by default, just for having an ACTUAL PERSONALITY.”

“The most over face on Anarchy is literally an emotionless robot. And he’s got more in a single microchip than Finn Kuhn has in his entire body.”

“Finn Kuhn. Feh. He’s basically Diet Ned Kaye.”

“Seriously. Have you seen their promos lately? Kuhn and Kaye are identical. They both whine and moan about their lousy lot in life, while a female stands to the side and tells them to relax.”

…Flynn presses his hand to his mouth like he’s sharing a secret.

“A formula that I’m pretty sure they both figured out by watching Centurion grump it up next to Ruby…”

“And don’t get me STARTED on Raion Kido.” Flynn scoffs. “That goddess-fucker puts out 20 minute promos where he adopts puppies and sews clothes for local orphans? Jesus fucking CHRIST. I’m sorry, but last time I checked, wasn’t this a WRESTLING BUSINESS?!?”

“Now, I’ll admit. I’ve never been what anyone would call a… ‘hero’. But, back in my day? Heroes fucking STOOD UP.”

“They didn’t walk around, recording themselves throwing a non-stop pity party for how hard it is to do the right thing.”

“They just DID THE RIGHT THING.”

“They punched evildoers in their stupid fucking faces and they threw them in jail and then they went out and FOUND MORE EVIL TO FIGHT.”

…

“And if the choice is Mark Flynn’s career ends… And Mark Flynn tries something UTTERLY DISTASTEFUL to his ENTIRE SENSE OF BEING.”

…

“Then, give me Finn Kuhn’s arm to break.”

“And cue my fucking hero theme music.”

“Cuz a new face just stepped onto the stage…”