OOC: Don't mind me, just fixing the dialogue formatting. Posted early to ensure no midnight shenannigans.

December 12th, 2020

Ned walked into the coffee shop and took a seat at an empty two person table. The coffee shop was about as standard as you could get in New York without just going to a Starbucks and there was no way that anybody was gonna sit outside around this time of year. Ned fidgeted in his seat slightly, nervous of the day to come. His psychiatrist Dr. Pheelanruff had decided without much of Ned’s opinion that it was time to start looking into romantic partners again. As much as Ned had zero interest in actually dating again, he felt an obligation to do the kind of rapidfire first impressions that these women were expecting of him. And, though he suspected Urias had said yes to just about anyone who would express even the tiniest interest in Ned, it was still something he should put at least a little effort into. At least, that’s how he felt. He sat up, gulped and prepared himself for the gauntlet.

---

Mary Velliden, 30
Corporate Businesswomen

Mary repeatedly glanced at her watch, seemingly disinterested in Ned.

“So, you do what now?”

“I wrestle.”

“Like UFC?”

“Kinda…”

“You ever met Dana White? What’s he like in the boardroom?”

“I think-”

“Actually, let me just take this call real quick.”

She walked outside for her phone call and never returned.

---

Heather Hannigan, 28
Cat Enthusiast

Heather looked at Ned with a vacant stare, several of her dozen cats congregated upon her shoulders.

“You-uh… you haven’t touched your coffee.”

“I had some before I got here.”

“Uh-huh.”

Without hesitation or breaking eye contact, she lowered her cup of coffee to the ground as her cats began to fight over the right to drink more of it.

“So, do you like dogs?”

“I love them. Can’t live without them.”

---

Dave, 25
Man

“Uh, you seem like a nice enough guy and all, but I think the person who helped me set up my profile maybe gave you the wrong conceptions about me. I’m not gay.”

“Wait…”

Dave tilted his head.

“You’re a guy?"

---

Rachel Desmond, 26
Passionate Christian

Rachel looked off into space going on and on about her passions.

“You know I really like the way people play baseball, like have you ever seen someone hit a ball that hard? Even with a bat.”

“I’ve gotten hit with bats, it’s no fun, to be honest.”

She chuckled slightly.

“You’re a good listener, Ned. Would you like to meet up again sometime? I really gotta head out or I’m gonna miss the latest episode of Ring In The Morning!”

“Ring In The Morning?”

“The Christian show! With Michael Bell! You’ve seen it, right?”

Ned thought back to a few clips he had seen online and the man generally being crazy, as most televangelists do.

“Maybe once…”

“That’s great, maybe we can watch it together sometime!”

“Uhhhh…”

“Sounds like a date!”

---

Slipping into the door with as much grace as a drunken calf, was Urias Pheelanruff himself, clearly posing as himself in drag to appear like some kind of date in disguise. Although Ned saw right through the Doctor’s idea, it was more embarrassing than it was amusing. That said, he still almost laughed a little at first. Urias wore a mumu with a floral pattern draped across it. As he waltzed over to the table, imitating the walk a supermodel might make down the runway, he nearly tripped in heels that looked to be as equally uncomfortable supporting Pheelanruff as he did wearing them. After the long road to the table and a quick collapse into the chair opposite Ned, Pheelanruff looked from side to side to see if anyone was watching and then leaned over the table, inadvertently pushing it more towards The Notorious One.

“Hey Ned,” Urias loudly whispered, “Pssst, it’s me! Urias! Pretty neat disguise, huh?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Slumping a bit to the side, a little more at ease with Urias there, Ned eyed the bag that his off-duty psychiatrist had brought. It appeared to be a kind of felt carrying bag. Ned had seen a ton of them before, but his mind still wandered after his first mildly successful attempt at a date.

“Any luck, hotshot?”

Giving an exhausted shrug, Kaye moved his head in a motion best described between a shake and a nod.

“Well, the last one wasn’t awful, that’s for certain. She seems nice, at least. Just… religious.”

“Ned!” Pheelanruff exclaimed, his face in immense shock “I had no clue you were that kind of atheist!”

“No, no. I don’t have an issue with religion. Hell, my family’s Catholic. She’s just… reaaalllly religious.”

“Like, what level are we talking here? Crucifix jewelry or, like, sacrifice a goat and/or child?”

With a quick search on his phone, Ned pulls up a clip of Michael Bell’s program to show Urias. In the clip, Bell raises up his hands, giving small twists of his wrists as his eyes are sealed shut.

“And we ask God to repel those who would bring us to harm! To repel that which would make us feel unwell! To reject those who claim that which we cannot accept! Strike the dissent away, lord, and deliver us unto a more bright future!”

“Oh,” remarked Pheelanruff as Ned closed the clip with some embarrassment.

“Well, you can’t blame her too much, Ned. Plenty o’ people watch junk! Just look at the shows you star in!”

“Thanks, Doc,” Kaye replied flatly, “So, do you have another dig at my company in that bag or are you still planning a musical?”

“Ned, you know I don’t try to insult your job too much and, besides, you’re not much of a tenor anyways! Despite your musical mediocrity, I thought I might get ya a little somethin’ for Christmas!”

With a toss of the bag, Urias lobbed it right in front of Ned where it nearly knocked over his drink before settling in a secure spot. Ned examined the bag more closely a little surprised as it looked like a carrying bag for a title! The doc had never been much of a wrestling fan, so it didn’t compute with Ned until he was staring right at it, but it made him feel particularly bad for his slight snark prior and even worse for not thinking in more detail of a gift to give Urias. He obviously tried his best and Kaye found an odd charm in his ineptitude. And as much as Ned had rightful criticisms for the method, he never doubted the man’s heart or earnestness, nor did he ever seriously consider selecting another psychiatrist(past the first few weeks, of course).

“Go on! Look inside!”

With a slight inhale, Ned peeked inside of the bag, beginning to pull it out as a reflective glimmer enticed him.

“Urias… it’s…”

(image)

“It’s an old Hart title replica… Thank you.”

The Doctor smiled with a big, goofy grin as he did several fistbumps to celebrate his successful attempt at gift giving.

“I knew you’d like it!”

As he ran his fingers over the imitation belt, Ned felt emotion welling in him, until he suddenly stopped, his eyes focusing on a single aspect of the gift.

“Uh… Doc, this is a great gift and all, but I think you might’ve fallen for a knockoff.”

“Wh-what?! Whaddeya mean? Everything there looks nice! I checked a picture of the old belt at least once! Maybe even twice!”

“Hart is spelled wrong,” Ned twisted the belt around to let Urias inspect it, “it has an E.”

“Ned, buddy, I have been spelling heart for all of my years and I can say with some certainty that there’s an E in there.”

“No, uh- look, Hart is a name. Like a last name. It refers to a wrestler, not the organ.”

“Well, I don’t see the problem! If the real belt’s missing the E, then this one’s gotta be better. I mean, they finally spelt it right!”

After several continuous minutes of explanation and a wikipedia article, Urias finally understood the point Kaye was stressing.

“Nobody fools ol’ Urias Pheelanruff and gets away with it! Come on, Ned! Let’s go see if we can get you a real fake version of that belt instead of the phony fake version I got! I’ll even show you where I stumbled across it!”

“Y’know, after all those coffee shop “dates,” that’s a more than welcome change of pace.

---

---

---

The Things In Life You Choose To Do

“Reputation precedes you in this business. It makes sense why it would, certainly, but it’s important to note with my next opponent. My first challenger. And what a reputation he has. Thunder Knuckles has been upheld as a “what you see is what you get kind of man.” Ask anyone what TK represents and they’ll tell you in an instant: TK loves money. What will he do for X-Bux or dollars or yen or pounds? Depends on what and how much, right? That’s his reputation. That’s who everyone thinks I’m gonna face. But Knux, you don’t honestly expect me to fall for any of that, do you? While your brand says one thing about you, your actions shout much louder and I’ve been listening for some time.”

“Do you remember when the late Madison Dyson put an open bounty on Robert Main and his X-Treme Championship? It was shortly before I had returned to the company in any official capacity, but I had offered to pay you more than Dyson to break up your pin on Robert and what did you do? You silently declined. That was my first hint to your true nature, but around the time this match was signed, you tweeted at Warfare Co-GM Derrick Diamond that you wanted your 2k that Bob Williams owed you. It didn’t matter to you that you would blatantly make more money by taking this match and putting up a good performance. It didn’t matter about the prestige of the Hart Championship and the money you could make as it’s headlining star, no, you just, supposedly, really wanted that 2,000. That’s when it clicked. You don’t care about the money, you just use money as an excuse to do shitty things you already feel like doing.”

“You want 2k, Knux? Call me up! I’ll pay you 2,000. Hell, why not 4,000? Is 10,000 up your alley? Is that your price to come in and face me with any shred of dignity? I’ll pay your price, given you set it reasonably, but I have no doubt that you won’t accept any of the amounts I’ve laid out. I don’t think I’ll have to pay a penny. And that’s so damn infuriating to me. Fans pay good money to come out there and see us fight, even more so for title matches, let alone title matches where two wrestlers have their first face off, but that couldn’t mean less to you! I cheered with the fans as they chanted for Robbie Bourbon, a man who could only care less about them if he adopted your demeanor, and yet you are content to use that veneer of money mattering to you so that you can half-ass this appearance. But it didn’t matter to you when you were pinning Main. It probably won’t matter to you even as I’m offering to pay you to show up and try to win. You’d rather lose out on money than dare have to try doing something you don’t feel like. Hell, you already started pointing your eyes towards James Raven’s championship over in GCWA. You can’t even be bothered to put you own company first, TK! So, no, we’re not gonna have a special stipulation or anything. We’re going to have a standard singles match because this company and this show owes you nothing more than that.”

"See, until you stop caring about lies over your heart and instead what lies within it, then you won't get your hands on gold again in this, or any other, company. For all the issues I have with Charlie Nickles, and there are a ton I plan on addressing when we inevitably face each other again, he cares about this business more than you ever could. That's why he won, TK. Not because you don't have the talent, but because the pursuit of championships is his life and for you they’re little more than accessories."

"You know, it's very fitting that your name is Thunder Knuckles because thunder might be booming, attention-grabbing, and ominous, but it's just noise. And while the whispering crackle of flames might not drown out the world around it, you'll find it far more dangerous when you are engulfed in them. Because for all your thunder, the skies are looking real clear on Wednesday. Show up, TK. Have the decency to lose on your merits and not your wallet. Or don’t and let everyone know that your reputation is as fake as the threat you might think you pose to me."

---

---

---

Ned and Urias arrived at the market, both looking through the various low-quality collections presented before them both. As Urias rushed off to try and find the exact seller he had bought the title belt from, Ned scanned his eyes over many of the market’s products, noticing the repetition of many popular images and brands. A deformed and discolored Sonic the Hedgehog here; an off-model Bart Simpson over there. Of course, all littered amongst apparel with painfully generic phrases and layouts. The more he stared, the funnier it got. Until, of course, it ceased to be funny, as his eyes skimmed over a specific backpack, Pheelanruff returning just in time as Ned’s eyes widened in a shocked horror.

“Man, I couldn’t find that guy anywhere! He must’ve hightailed it outta here or found another street corner to sell some merch, huh, Ned?”

Kaye’s silence took the Doctor by surprise.

“Ned?”

He turned to see Ned’s frozen expression, following it to the source of this bewilderment. That’s when it caught his eye. A black backpack with big bright clashing colors with the image of “Heart Champeon Ned K.” Urias shared a similar awe with Ned for a moment.

“Whoa…”

“I know. I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, you’d think they’d have it in white.”

“Not what I meant! This is bootleg merch with my image, Doc! Somebody’s selling crap to my supporters! They deserve better than that! God, how are we gonna get this solved when the whole government is caught up in nonsense?”

Urias gasps excitedly, beginning to nearly bounce up and down at the idea that just came to mind.

“Why are you doing that?”

“Ned, don’t you get it?! You and me on the streets on New York? Investigating a mystery? Trying to find the culprit in time? WE’RE DOING SHERLOCK HOLMES!”

“Oh god,” Ned looked down in utter disbelief, “you’re right.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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"You can't run from yourself."