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Andrew Logan · (08-13-2020)

~We enter on a shot of a beautiful-looking hotel room. The sun is shining through the open window as we see a couple of shadows walk past. The door swings open, and Grace Logan steps through, her face radiant as she steps in, rolling her carry-on bag behind her. Andrew Logan is right behind her, hauling the two suitcases they've brought with them. He positions them near the dresser and turns back, examining the room.~

Andrew Logan - This is more impressive than I expected.

Grace Logan - It's quite nice, considering I don't plan on spending much time here. The beach is calling! The shops along the pier! There's so much to do on this vacation!

Andrew Logan - I wouldn't mind spending a little extra time in the hotel room...

~Grace playfully swats at Andrew, knowing what he means. A slight redness comes into her cheeks as she turns to grab her bag, preparing to get out her two-piece swimsuit to wear out on the beach nearby. Andrew smiles at her before turning back and looking out the window... seeing the rain that's pouring down outside.~

Andrew Logan - When did that...

~Andrew turns back to his wife, who's now lying in bed, looking sadly in his direction.~

Grace Logan - I told you we should have come during the summer months...

~Andrew takes an angry swig from the beer in his hand, before crushing the can and throwing it aside.~

Andrew Logan - You just love that phrase, don't you? "I told you so". I'm really tired of hearing...

~Suddenly, the light brightens again in the room. Andrew looks down in the trash can nearby, seeing that it's still empty. There's no sign of the beer can. Grace steps out behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and running a hand up and down his exposed chest.

Grace Logan - Have I mentioned lately that you look great in swim trunks? Let's get out here and stake our claim before the rest of the tourists take over! It's going to be great!

~Grace turns, picking up a long hat from the bed and putting it on before heading out the door, excited. Andrew, still looking in a state of confusion, begins to follow, as the door shuts behind her. He opens it up, only to see the rain once again pouring down in waves. He looks out at it, realizing after a second that he's got a shirt and jeans back on. Suddenly, he's pushed out of the way as Grace moves past him, dragging her luggage with her.~

Grace Logan - I'll be in the car. You've got five minutes to join me before I take off for the airport myself...

~She storms off, even as Andrew looks from the stormy weather coming through the door to the sunlight still shining through the window. He holds his head, as if dealing with the world's greatest migraine headache. His eyes are shut tight, working through the flood of strange, conflicting memories.~

~Andrew Logan's eyes open wide as he hears the signal going off from his cell phone. He slowly pulls himself off the couch where he fell asleep the night before, having been waiting for Malcolm's call. With no response, the hours got too late, sending the big man into a painful slumber. At least the couch was a little nicer than the office chair he slept in a few days before. Logan straightens up, clearing out some cobwebs before reaching over and grabbing his phone, checking the screen. On it is a single message, from Malcolm's phone.~

Malcolm's Phone - Meet me at Halo eSports in one hour.

~Logan acknowledges the message, wondering why Malcolm wants to meet him there. For all Logan knows, Malcolm wants to get in a tournament or two against him, which could mean the news is better than Logan expects. He asked Malcolm to look into his own background, after learning that his wife may still be alive. The question remains, what memories are the real ones? The perfect memories he has of the adventures he and Grace went on, or the dark memories that seem to indicate the marriage was on its last legs? Or is it some combination of the two? Logan doesn't know. He just sees that they're getting more and more jumbled the more Logan thinks about it, and he has no idea why. Shrugging his shoulders, Logan walks off, getting himself ready to head out.~

~We cut to an hour later, as Andrew Logan steps into Halo eSports and looks around. There are numerous televisions set up in rows along the wall and in specific grids, allowing for some multiplayer action on some of the hottest games available. They've been sectioned off with either plastic or glass panels, as an effort to make the place safe during the Corona Virus pandemic. It's better than nothing, Logan supposes, as he comes forward to the desk.~

Lady At Desk - Hello, and welcome to Halo eSports! Are you here for an hour's session, or would you be interested in a membership with us?

Andrew Logan - Hi, I'm actually here to meet a friend of mine. My name's Andrew Logan, I don't know if he left a message...

Lady At Desk - I'm afraid not, sir. Can you describe your friend?

Andrew Logan - He's a nerdy-looking guy, but I guess that wouldn't help in a place like this. Ummm, he's got black hair, wears sunglasses inside because he thinks it's cool... tends to wear a Google branded shirt a lot...

Lady At Desk - Do you mean Malcolm? He's in here all the time.

Andrew Logan - Yes! Has he come in today?

Lady At Desk - I haven't seen him, but feel free to look around. He's usually near the back, playing FortNite.

~Logan thanks her and starts walking around, checking out the area. There's less people in here than he would have expected, but that's in part due to schools reopening as well as the Pandemic. Despite Logan's best efforts, he can't find Malcolm anywhere. After thirty minutes, as well as multiple text messages sent with no responses, Logan heads for the door.~

Andrew Logan - Thanks for your help. If Malcolm turns up, tell him I'm looking for him, will you?

Lady At Desk - I'll do that. Hope you stop by again...

~The lady puts a bit of suggestion into her final comment, winking at Logan, but he doesn't appear to see it, going out the door. He heads for his car, opting to head for the office to see if Malcolm has been pulled into a meeting.~

I've been in several Falls Count Anywhere matches over the years. Sometimes they just called it No Countout No Disqualification; other times, a Street Fight. It didn't matter to me, as long as the rules were the same. I remember one fight where the guy I was going against wanted nothing to do with the stipulation. I'd get him outside and try to toss him into the crowd or send him underneath the steel steps. He would find a way to squirm back into the ring and fight me there. I think I ended up putting him through two announcing tables before getting the victory. If he hadn't been annoying me so much, maybe it would have just been one.

Another match was much more brutal. This nutcase, I think he had Savage in his name, he wanted all the blood and gore he could get out of me. At the time, as unbalanced as I seemed to be, I was more than willing to return the favor. We ended up fighting out of the building and down the street, scaring people who had no idea a wrestling event was going on that night. I ended up getting clipped by a car at one point, but thankfully wasn't hit head-on, so the fight continued. We finished it off inside a Wal-Mart, in Aisle 9, or maybe it was Aisle 8, I don't remember. I'm just sure it was the Sporting Goods aisle, because I had to pay out of pocket for several dented baseball bats and a broken basketball goal after I got the victory.

The thing about a Falls Count Anywhere match is the pure fact that we could go anywhere. I could take you to the US/Canadian border if I wanted to, and earn another milestone by pinning a wrestling who's inside two countries. I could take you to the top of Rogers Place and toss you off, sending you screaming all the way to the hard ground below. Or I could keep you right around ringside and just break you with whatever weapons I can find on hand. So many possibilities are there for me. Regretting agreeing to this match yet?

I saw your lovely commentary on my name being too 'average' for your tastes. Like Johnny Legend is the most original name ever. You know how many wrestlers I've met in my time that changed their last name to something like Legend? As I said on Twitter, the saddest wrestlers are the ones who have to change their name to make themselves sound like they're special. They're the ones who want to be praised as a "legend" in the business, when the true legends don't need to mention it to the fans. Because they already know.

From what I've seen, you've got more problems than just wrestling me. You should really get yourself a check-up. Maybe that's your way out of this match. I can't see them wanting to sign off on a wrestler who's peeing or shitting blood before a Falls Count Anywhere contest. I was already a little concerned that your out-of-shape, elderly-looking body may not be able to handle the punishment I can dish out. Now I'm wondering if you won't keel over after the first time I bodyslam you out of the ring. I'll make sure to talk to Legal beforehand and look over the contract to make sure I'm not liable if I end up accidentally killing you on Saturday.

I'm not going to hold back. I've got a powerful year going right now, and I'm not going to let it get derailed by a mental case like you. That means no mercy for the weak. It's just sad that we're around the same age, showing how horribly you've taken care of yourself over the years. Again, make sure you get them to give you a physical. Maybe you can entice a pretty nurse to check your shrunken testicles, give you a thrill before you're pulled from the match and I get a disappointing forfeit win. Or maybe you will get those testicles kicked upwards to your throat, and you'll regret the day you stumbled over the name Andrew Logan.

~We catch up with Andrew Logan as he walks along towards the main office building he visited yesterday. He looks in the parking lot, not spotting Malcolm's car, but it's always possible he missed it, so Logan heads on in. He walks through the cubicle farm, finding the one with Malcolm's name on it. Inside, there is no one. His computer is on, with a blinking cursor showing on the screen, but there's no sign of Malcolm himself. As Andrew sighs, he hears a voice from behind as someone approaches.~

Arthur Logan - As I live and breathe, my nephew has deemed us worthy of a visit! Hello, Andrew.

Andrew Logan - Hello, Uncle Arthur.

~Arthur gives his nephew a pat on the shoulder, smiling at him. But behind that smile, you never know what's going on. There's a reason Arthur Logan has run one of the most powerful crime syndicates in Detroit over the past decade. He rarely lets anything slip past him. Usually, he has a mission or two to send Andrew on, but recently it's been pretty quiet. I suppose even criminal enterprises have been affected by the Corona Virus.~

Andrew Logan - I was looking for Malcolm. Do you know when he'll be back in?

Arthur Logan - Malcolm? Oh, he's been gone for days. I think there was some sort of gaming convention or something in Las Vegas. You'd think they'd shut those down, but hell, for all I know he's playing from his hotel room or something.

~Andrew Logan looks at his uncle in confusion, knowing for a fact that he sat here and talked to Malcolm just yesterday, to get help finding out about his past. Or did he? Was it all another dream? Did Andrew hallucinate the whole thing? Was none of it real? For a moment, Andrew's unsteady, leaning on the nearby cubicle wall, with Arthur reaching out to grab him by the arm, suddenly concerned.~

Arthur Logan - Andrew?? What is it? You just went as white as a KKK mask, and that's something I never want to see...

~Arthur helps his nephew take a seat in Malcolm's chair, taking a good look at him, but Andrew just shakes his head.~

Andrew Logan - It's okay, Uncle. I just feel a little tired. Probably should have eaten something today before coming here. Malcolm had invited me to a gaming match at an eSports shop, but maybe I got my weeks confused.

Arthur Logan - I've got half a Roast Beef sandwich you can have in the fridge, along with a beer. I'll be right back.

~Arthur walks off, still looking worried about his only family left besides his other nephew, Anthony, and who knows where he is. Andrew settles himself, taking a look at his phone. The message from Malcolm is still there, at least, so that's something. Andrew reaches forward, leaning on the desk, and accidentally hits the keyboard. A message appears.~

Malcolm's Computer - Incorrect key word, my old friend.

~Andrew stares at the computer, sensing Malcolm's perverse sense of humor. He thinks for a second, and then starts typing out "Andrew Logan". He hits enter.~

Malcolm's Computer - Incorrect key word, my old friend.

Andrew Logan - Damn. What would he mean by old friend... oh, you son of a...

~Looking around carefully, Andrew reaches over and types into the keyboard again. This time, he types a single word: "Laser". After a moment, the system beeps, and a new message appears.~

Malcolm's Computer - Underneath My Favorite..

~Andrew reads the message a couple of times, wondering what it could mean. A second later, it blinks out, going back to the blinking cursor, the timer having run its course. Andrew thinks it over some more, leaning back in the chair... Malcolm's favorite chair. Andrew sits up again and reaches underneath, knowing that his uncle will be back at any second. After a moment, Andrew's hand finds a clipped-on item and pulls it off: a flash drive. He quickly puts it into his pocket, hiding it away just in time as Arthur Logan comes walking around the corner.~

Arthur Logan - Here, son. Eat and drink, and relax for a few minutes. I won't take no for an answer.

Andrew Logan - Alright, Uncle. I'm feeling better just sitting, though.

Arthur Logan - You've been training too hard for that new wrestling show you're part of. What is it, the XML?

Andrew Logan - You've been looking at computers too much. It's the XWF.

Arthur Logan - Right, right, and you've got a match with that fat bastard Legendary or something. You'll crush him easily, nephew, as long as you get the rest and nutrients you need. You know, I've been giving you time off for your training and all, but whenever you want another 'consulting job', you just let me know. We could always use your... expertise.

~It's just like Arthur Logan to be so careful about what he says. Andrew nods to him, taking a dutiful bite of the sandwich to show him he's following through. Arthur nods sagely and turns, walking away again to take care of more of the family business. He'll likely come back around soon, though, so Andrew can't risk looking at the flash drive now. That'll have to be planned out, because there may be more going on than Andrew possibly knows. Where is Malcolm? What did he find? And did it have anything to do with Andrew's family? His brother? His uncle? Whatever it is, Andrew wants to know more than ever... what is the truth?~

I've got a lot of unanswered questions in my life right now. Have you ever had something stuck in your mind, circling around and around until it's nearly driven you mad? That's what I feel like right now. The bad news for you, Mr. Legend, is that this frustration I'm feeling is easily released when I enter that XWF ring. I'll have a way to put aside my demons for a time and feel normal once again. The best way I can do that? Breaking your back and leaving you like a washed-up musical judge, wondering what's possibly next in your life.

Then again, Simon Cowell has a massive bank roll and still has name recognition, so he'll probably be just fine. You, Legend? You've got nothing. In the words of Cowell, you're "a bit like ordering a hamburger and only getting the bun." You don't have talent. You don't have name recognition. No money or success from what I've seen. Defeating you won't really make a huge move in my career, main event or not. But that doesn't mean I don't want to be a Legend Killer. I'll leave you laying in a pool of your own blood, so you won't have to worry about it being in your stool anymore. It'll be everywhere.

Get your will made up, Legend. Say goodbye to your friends if you have any. Treasure. Every. Moment.

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