Clink!

Steven Cooper and Ned Kaye clashed their bottles of Sam Adams together, the sound ringing through the air. While Eobard had to make some preparations for their upcoming tag team debut, Cooper decided he’d go ahead and celebrate with Ned. He wondered what went on in the kid’s head, especially since everything he had heard suggested Ned had given up drinking a while back, but the way he chugged here was as if he had never stopped and he still showed few signs, if any, of intoxication. They sat in front of a television, the pay-per-view nearing its conclusion.

Looking over to Ned, Steve noticed the Hart Title had fallen off of his shoulder and landed on the floor, but Kaye didn’t seem to mind at all. Taking a sip of his beer, Steve decided to mention it.

“Hey, boss. Your title’s sittin’ on the floor there.”

“I know.”

Ned smirked, consciously placing a foot on the belt, eyes pointed straight at the screen.

“So, that match wasn’t about the belt at all. Just getting back at Edgar, right?”

“Oh, please, Steve,” Kaye remarked, “don’t make me seem that simple. Besides, Edgar didn’t wrong me. He wronged Ned, he just took my chance to take more from Ned. That’s all. Nothing more.”

Cooper hated it when the kid talked like this. It was… weird. Still, it was hard to argue with the idea of this Ned being different from the other one. Steve didn’t bother pushing the issue too much further, but he just had to ask. It wasn’t the first he had and they were both well aware it was far from his last.

“So, you’re not Ned?”

“Not at all.”

“...but you remember the same stuff, don’t ya?”

Ned’s smile dropped as he seemingly began to look for ways to describe it to Steve. He finished his beer before turning towards Cooper.

“Have you ever been on a plane ride, Coop?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you remember it?”

“Well, I’d fuckin’ hope so,” Steven chuckled with the response, not understanding what Ned was getting at.

“But you didn’t pilot it. You didn’t choose how the flight went. You were just along for the ride. Get what I mean?”

“...So, you’re a plane hijacker?”

Laughter blurted out from Ned’s mouth.

“Something like that. Althought I wouldn’t go around saying that unless you want TSA to be on our ass.”

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion, the nasally voice of an intern shouting into the ring.

“Mr. Ned Kaye, I have an important message from Vinnie Lane! Could you please open the door?”

Ned rolled his eyes upon hearing his name and called out back.

“You’re fully capable of informing me through the door!”

“But Ned-”

“Could you stop wastin’ the Hart Champion’s time and spit it out?”

After a brief silence, the intern raised his voice again, albeit meekly.

“Mr. Lane wants you to face R.L. Edgar again.”

Steven threw up his arms, walking towards the door aggressively. Sure, he thought Ned was a little wacky, but he had won that title and brought him and young Stone to the forefront of professional wrestling and he wasn’t about to sit idly by while some out of touch owner decided he didn’t like it when his talent got too good.

“How about you go back to Vinnie Lane and tell him that if he wants R.L. Edgar to get another match, he better come here himself an-”

“I’ll do it. We’ll have the rematch.”

Steven turned around, looking at Ned uncertainly. Ned had refocused on the television screen, holding his empty bottle of beer by the stem with two finger.

“Tell Vinnie we can have whatever kind of match he’d like.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“And Steve?"

“Hm?”

“Why don’t you escort our friend here so that we know Vinnie gets the message?”

Cooper grinned widely, beginning to slip out the door.

“You know, that’s the first not crazy thing you’ve said all night.”

“Thanks, Steve,” The Nefarious One waved a hand as Cooper stepped out the door. Meanwhile, Ned’s eyes were glued to the screen, watching Drew and Robert reunited on-screen, both having been thought dead. The Nefarious One looked down, feeling something sharp corsing through him and in one fluid motion, pelted the bottle at the screen as hard as he could, standing in front of the broken picture of the two men, seeing his reflected face through the broken, cracked glass of the television. Cooper reopened the door.

“Anything wrong, boss?”

Ned paused, his breaths deep and warm in his chest.

“Not at all.”

---

---

---

I Never Felt This Much Alive

“Oh Eddy, you have no clue what you just stepped into.”

The Nefarious One gleefully claps his hands together, appearing to be sitting on the Hart Championship Belt.

“I mean, you never were too bright, I mean, that’s why everyone liked you! Just a simple country boy with the same amount of intelligence as the average wrestling fan. The kind who fist pumps the kids in the crowd. The kind who doesn’t wipe his mouth while eating. The man who stares impossible odds in the eyes and fights despite the futility! Oh, it’s a story enough to make anyone watch…!”

“But no one truly cares. Take it from me, Ed, a guy who was riding shotgun and had to watch a lot of this firsthand. Those people out there like your story, but they don’t really give a damn about you. About your undefeated streak. No, the night they cared about you most was when you got that belt and they’ve been slowly losing interest ever since. It’s not your fault the fans are disloyal dogs, always looking for the next squirrel to bark at, but it is your fault for wanting to represent them. To embody them. And you reaped what you goddamned sewed. All it took was someone unconcerned with the right way to take your pedestal and break it in two.”

“All it took was me.”

“But management is unsatisfied. They don’t want me having the belt, holding a position of influence over this company’s image. They don’t like that I fight to win, so they want to give you another shot. If I were a lesser man, I would be furious! Why am I not allowed to defeat an opponent in a decisive fashion and move on? But I’m no lesser man, Eddy. I’m a greater threat. When I heard that they wanted to feed you to me again, the first thing that went through my mind was “how soon?” I said I was going to reclaim this-!”

Ned pulls the title from under his ass and tosses it towards the camera.

“And I did it. Ned had never won at March Madness and I won not only a match but one of this company’s pitiful titles in my first match! And now I possess the ultimate bait. That belt is trash, but it’s my trash and I will take immense pleasure in watching every challenger squirm to try and get it off of my waist and drown in their own despair. But I will especially enjoy watching you desperately struggle to reclaim it and crushing your hand beneath my boot as you fall to the mat. Last Man Standing is just my kind of match because I want to show everyone that your limits mean nothing to me. You will be my litmus test of cruelty and then they all shall forget that they loved you and only know that they hate me. And they’re going to keep on hating me until I retire, because no one, least of all you, is taking this Hart title from me. But, I’m so elated at the prospect of hurting you again, that I’ll give you a bit of advice.”

“When the bell rings. Lay down. That’s the only way you’ll preserve any pride left in your body Edgar. It won’t be much, but it’s better than nothing! And then you can go home and fuck off to raising your children and leave the wrestling to those who strive in the world to come. In Avalanche’s XWF and then our wrestling business.”

“So, on that morning of the 7th, hug your kids real tight and let them know that Daddy is a loser, but he’s not a stupid loser and will fall at my feet and grovel for a second loss against me. Hell, it’ll be the first smart thing you’ve done in your life!”

The Nefarious One cackles, getting up to leave the camera’s vision.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be getting my feet massaged throughout this week so that they’re all good and ready to step on the rest of your spirit. See you soon, Ed!"

"You can't run from yourself."