The environment for an interrogation must be discomforting. The interrogator is the only means of escape…

The wrapping of fingertips on the table.

The ticking of the clock.

A blinding overhead lamp.

Hard, echoing sounds, bearing down on eardrums…

Unfortunately, on short notice, Dolly Waters had only a broom closet for Flynn to borrow.

Admittedly, she didn’t offer this closet. Dolly actually invited them both to speak in her room at the commune.

Flynn scoffed recalling that. Give the perp a choice of venue? Yeah, right.

He had just finished setting up a table… He had borrowed a clock out of the hallway and a lamp from the front entry. The space was so tight, the walls closed in so tight… With a second person in here, you might not be able to breathe...

It was perfect.

There was a knock. It was time.

“It’s open.”

“...I mean, duh, it’s open. We wouldn’t put a lock on the broom closet.”

“COME IN.”

The door opens inward and jams into the table.

Flynn sighs and slides the table backwards a half-inch… Just enough for the door to open another ten degrees… Just enough for Dolly to slip in the gap.

“Take a seat.”

Dolly closes the door and finds a seat.

“...This our lamp?”

Flynn doesn’t look up.

“No.”

…

“...Yes, I’ll put it back.”

Flynn straightens his papers...

“Now… Let us begin.”

There’s another knock on the door.

“...It’s open!”

“It’s a broom closet!”

The door slips open and jabs into Dolly’s chair.

Flynn sighs. He slides the table back again and gestures for Dolly to move to the right. She does her best to move to the side…

The door budges another crack, just enough for NK to back into the room…

“I apologize… I had to... evacuate. I’m glad to see Corey Smith invested in an incinerator since the last time I left.”

“Incinerator?”

“For my... leavings. I had told Corey Smith to install one since my last visit. I’m glad to find that there WAS one on the first floor all along!”

“...No, we don’t have an incinerator. Wheredju put it?”

“...”

***

One janitorial emergency in the commune’s trash compactor and a game of Broom Closet Twister to return to their seats later...

Flynn sits at one end of the table. Dolly sits on the other side.

NK sits on his knees, in between the two, due to a chair shortage in the broom closet.

“OK. First question.”

NK claps excitedly.

“Oh! Before we begin!”

NK begins politely clapping.

“Congratulations, Dolly Waters! Your first successful night as Commissioner of Anarchy!”

He jabs Flynn in the ribs to join in. Flynn, after a moment, claps three times, bemused. NK’s smile is wide but plastic, like if someone could tape a smile onto their face.

Dolly doesn’t know how to receive this applause at first.

“Oh! Uh... Thanks?”

“What luck for you to meet with us. Perhaps you’d like to pick our minds on the ins and outs of your position? You may not know this but Mark Flynn and I were both once in XWF leadership roles.”

“Oh, really?” Dolly, at first, smiles politely, then mentally imagines these two running XWF programming and can’t resist expressing deep repulsion in her face.

Flynn rolls his eyes.

“ I was commissioner of Shove-It for like… one show. I resigned after I found out they had already made a rule that no commissioner could not declare all title belts to be theirs.”

“...That’s why you took the job?”

“Why else would anyone want YOUR job?”

NK laughs.

“I myself was the General Manager of Shove-It after Flynn’s debacle. If I may offer advice…”

Before Dolly can say yes or no, NK stands as tall as he can in the broom closet, his head now among the top shelf, full of Lysol-based cleaning pads.

“The secret to good management is ruling with an iron fist and quashing rebellion in any form the moment, the very instant it foments.”

NK allows a genuine, but unnerving smile to replace his robotic pleasant one, “You do well to demand Big Money Oswald adhere to your ideals of a champion. The key to well-run XWF programming is ‘unquestioned control’.”

Flynn grins and tugs on NK’s shirt. “Hey, NK. Do you want to tell her how your tenure as Shove-It GM ended?”

NK blushes.

“...I don’t see how that’s relevant, Mark Flynn.”

“A month into the job, he was exploded by a tank.”

“Holy moley, by a tank?!?”

“They remote-detonated a tank with him inside of it. In his hometown.”

“Jumping Jehoshaphat…”

“You wanna know the punchline? It was the biggest crowd-pop of his entire career.”

Flynn claps, laughing and slaps NK’s back. NK turns away from Flynn pouting.

Flynn is the only one laughing at the table, a laughter unabated by Dolly’s expression of sympathy or NK’s sulking anger.

Flynn eventually coasts himself to a wheezing stop…

“Whew… Sorry.” One last snort laugh... “Let’s… Let’s get started…” Flynn looks Dolly deep in her eyes. Locking into his objective, peering into her every micro-expression… Unleashing full-focus on the task at ha-

NK spins back towards the table, “I was merely attempting to offer our future aid to Dolly Waters. I found her performance in the ring to be quite formidable.”

Flynn blinks away this distraction, trying to achieve full-focus. “Not now, NK.”

“I especially enjoy her finishing maneuver. The running knee strike to the jaw?”

“Oh, the Runnin’ Waters? Thank ya, that’s a family move. Great-Grammy Waters invented it when Johnny Law tried to arrest her in her trailer… She needed a move that didn’t involve the use of her hands.”

“In a pair of ‘cuffs, she sprinted the whole length of the Winnebago. BAM! Caught him right below the chin. Like huntin’ a buck with a rifle.”

NK smiles his most artificial smile, like that program on Netflix that’s just a fireplace. Looks warm, but provides no warmth.

“How charming. And is there another name for that strike?”

“NK, off-topic. Focus up.”

“Uh…” Dolly stops to think, smacking her lips... “I guess the play-by-play boys call it a... Shining Wizard?”

Flynn’s ears perk. NK’s devilishly genuine grin returns…

Flynn stutters, clearing his throat.

“...Y...Yes. That’s the... name of the move.”

“Of course. A move by any other name would strike as hard.” NK raises an eyebrow knowingly.

“...First question.”

Flynn looks Dolly in the eye again and unleashes Full Foc… FULL… FULL FOC…

Flynn sighs.

“Okay, you’re not magic, are you?”

Dolly is taken aback.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Look, I just came back to the company. Last time I was here, this place had some oddballs, but it didn’t have literal wizards. I’m just trying to get a grip on who's normal.”

“What the fuck?”

“Mark Flynn! My goodness gracious!”

NK reaches across the table to briefly cover Dolly’s ears. Dolly shakes off his grip. NK maneuvers gracefully to press his hand over his heart.

“Dolly Waters, I fear I must apologize on behalf of my interrogation partner. I only discovered on the drive here he is profoundly rhabdophobic.”

Dolly is shocked.

“What’s yer problem with wizards, Flynn?”

“How the fuck does everyone know this word?”

NK shakes his head. “It’s 2021, Mark Flynn. Get with the times.”

NK leans over to Dolly’s er. “He’s from a different era.”

NK pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at his completely dry eye. “He should come with one of those warning labels like an animated film from the 50s on DisneyPlus. The XWF is not proud of him, but they keep him as he was originally to start important discussions about intolerance.”

Flynn is flabbergasted. “I’m sorry! Excuse me if I’m a BIGOT IF I don’t like getting zapped ten thousand feet in the air by a wizard!”

Dolly is completely ignoring Flynn in favor of NK at this point. “Y’all got zapped ten thousand feet?”

NK laughs dismissively. “Mark Flynn is being dramatic. We were TELEPORTED.”

Flynn squints in disbelief. “We would have DIED!”

“Who teleported y’all?”

“Comrade Arcana. Jim Caedus’ significant other.”

Dolly immediately has a thousand-watt smile. “Aw, isn’t she just the sweetest thang?” Then, in a moment of realization, turns on Flynn. “What did Y’ALL do to make HER teleport you?”

Flynn points at NK, “HE wanted to break into Caedus’ home to get the X-Treme Title.”

NK shakes his head defiantly. “Not at all! I wanted to break the record for Closest Unsuccessful Pin Attempt on the X-Treme Champion!”

“Didja git it?”

NK sighs. “Unfortunately, ‘Jim Caedus’ was actually his dog under an illusion spell.”

“Ugh, I hate it when that happens. Tough luck, fellas.”

Dolly looks at Flynn again. “Honestly, I’d talk to Arcana when yer not breaking into her house. If ya see her at the craft services table at a show, say hi. She’s just the kindest soul, bless her heart.”

“I’m afraid Mark Flynn would prefer that the XWF’s magical beings had their own craft services table. And water fountains. And schools.”

“Separate but equal got struck down in the 50s, Flynn.”

Both NK and Dolly shake their heads disappointed.

“She TELEPORTED us. Ten THOUSAND feet. INTO THE AIR.”

NK presses a hand between his mouth and Flynn, as if telling Dolly a secret. “We had parachutes.”

Dolly clicks her tongue. “Wait, y’all had parachutes? Flynn, now yer just being a baby.”

“A BABY?!? TEN THOUSAND FEET.”

“Y’all had parachutes. You were fine.”

“He didn’t want to put it on.”

“Well, that woulda been foolish of him.”

“Haha! I concur, Dolly Waters!”

NK raises a hand for a high-five. Dolly… hesitates, because she never would have guessed she’d give a War Criminal a high five in her life… then, yeah, okay, she goes for it. They high-five.

Flynn stares NK dead in his eyes.

“HEY NK. Do you have ANYWHERE ELSE to be right now?”

NK peers up thoughtfully, then a memory strikes him.

“Ah yes!”

NK looks at Dolly.

“Dolly Waters, may I visit Corey Smith? I have a gift for him that I hope will aid his recovery.”

NK reaches under the table... and retrieves the Edible Arrangement fruit basket.

Dolly pauses…

Then leans into her pocket, where she keeps a commune radio.

“Rhonda… Could you stop by the... broom closet?”

“Interrogation center.”

“Broom closet.”

***

Rhonda walks heel-toe down the hall with NK, following her steps precisely one beat after her. They sound like one pair of feet coming down the hall.

Not saying a word. Both wearing KN-95 masks. The only sound is the rustling of plastic from the fruit basket.

Finally, they reach a door in the medical wing.

Rhonda spins on NK.

“I’ll be right outside. If you try anything, I’ll hear it and I’ll break your arms before the rest of security even gets here.”

NK waves away her threats.

She opens the door.

NK walks inside and looks at the room’s occupant.

…

“...This simply will not do.”

NK reaches into his pocket for a pair of gloves...

***

“You’re telling me that Coreytopia... isn’t some secret off-shoot nation… but really is just a well-meaning commune started by a kid with a mansion and a college sophomore’s understanding of Marxism?”

“Kinda... Sorta... It used ta be the Dyson mansion. Corey had the best of intentions, but honestly, knowing Corey, I doubt he actually filed the paperwork to make this a sovereignty. Which’d explain why we still get fines from the local HOA. You’d think if we had diplomatic immunity, they wouldn’t bother us over tandem-parking in our own driveway.”

“And it has no connection to the Illuminatus State?”

“Not organizationally ever. And not at all since…” Dolly trails off.

“Right. Right… Well. This might be a bust. I don’t think it’s illegal to house the homeless and run registered AA meetings…”

Flynn’s eyebrows scrunch together.

“Hey, any of your flock underage?”

“...Probably? Corey kinda welcomed everyone that wanted in. He eventually started interviewing newcomers, but like not fer a while.”

Flynn strokes his chin, thoughtfully, opening his notebook and grabbing a pen.

“That’s a crime. Contributing to the Delinquency of Minors… Harboring Runaways...”

Dolly is horrified. But before Dolly can protest, Flynn waves off that idea, shutting his notes closed again...

“Fuck, what’s the point?” Flynn tosses his pen away. “This is a dead-end. The mansion might have previously been owned by an XWF superstar for nefarious purposes, but right now, it looks like this is just a potentially-illegal non-profit. Filing paperwork would be a waste.”

“So, you won’t file a report?”

“I wouldn’t be on the Optimal Path if I wasted my time on busy work.”

“...Thanks, I guess?”

“Don’t.” Flynn says, tucking his papers back into an accordion folder. He sighs again.

“Um…” Flynn’s words hang in the air. As if everything he’d done before this point came very naturally to him and he was about to step outside his comfort zone.

“Goooooooooood match.”

“What?”

“Um, good, Good match. Uh, I watched Under the Lights last week. You and Hector. I’d say the Bastards just wanted it more, but…” Flynn laughs remembering... “Nah, you wanted it pretty bad, you stabbed Bourbon in the fucking shoulder.” Flynn cackles.

Dolly grins. “Haha… yeah, I really wanted that dub...”

“Second time in a row you ended up outside the ring during the finale. You either need better ring awareness or a partner that’ll kick-out.”

Dolly raises an eyebrow. The warmth from the previous compliment is gone, replaced with cutting criticism. Flynn shrugs.

“Just saying. You’ve got plenty of offense. But, defense wins championships.”

"You mean the kinda defense where I kick you, LSM spears you and you hang outside while the finish happens?"

Flynn laughs. "I stopped the pin when I needed to. The match once again fit to my design."

“If yer proposin' for partnership, I’m not gonna join a CULT to win my matches.”

Flynn grimaces. “Ugh, yeah... You brought that up in your trash talk, too. No, I’m not recruiting, just… offering advice.”

“Sure, ‘course. Friendly advice from Mark Flynn. Definitely no reason to question that.”

Flynn looks Dolly square in the eye. “It’s not much of an excuse, but I was in a very unhealthy place at the time. The one-man death cult… bringing about the apocalypse... Obsessively toiling to force the world of professional wrestling to bend at my whim…” Flynn smiles nostalgically thinking about it and then shakes his head.

“I’m not into… Okay, I’m LESS into that now. People do dumb shit in their 30s, you know?”

“...No, I’m 18.”

Flynn… slowly deflates like a punctured beachball… collapsing into the table and burying his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking old.”

Suddenly, a chirp on the radio.

“Miss Waters, can you come to Corey’s room for a second?”

Dolly leans into her pocket. “Everything all right?”

“...Just... Come here?”

***

A minute later, Dolly and Flynn arrive at the room. Rhonda is standing outside, staring through the window perplexed.

“Is he all right? What’s happening?”

Rhonda peers at Dolly, very confused.

“I just… I… I don’t know what to do about this...”

Dolly pops open the door, Flynn follows her in.

Inside the room…

NK is very cautiously… Very carefully… Straightening Corey Smith’s bedsheets.

He picks up a corner…

Adjusts it…

Then, he retrieves from his coat a small bubble level to measure the angle of the sheets.

He puts the level back in his coat… Makes another small adjustment… And re-measures.

Dolly involuntarily makes a ‘huh’ sound, confused by the bizarre display. NK looks up and slips his mask under his chin.

“Ah, Dolly Waters,” he mouths at a nearly imperceivable quiet volume, as if he’s trying not to awaken someone.

“I regret to inform you… Corey Smith’s blankets were at an angle a full 0.98 degrees off-center. Optimal Warmth & Recovery research conducted by Central Command suggests optimal blanket offset is no greater than 0.7 degrees.”

NK then indicates behind himself. At Corey’s bedside, NK has left the Edible Arrangement fruit basket, still wrapped.

“I imagine his above-average constitution will bear the brunt of his less-than-optimal medical care, but I hope this knowledge will aid your staff in his treatment.”

Dolly has no idea how to receive this.

Flynn leans in.

“He’s a fucking alien, but for him, this is… adjacent to… kindness.”

Dolly nods, acknowledging truth in this statement, while still being a little thrown.

“...Thank you.”

NK bows deeply, spins back to comatose Corey Smith and salutes.

“Captain, as you were.” He mouths silently, before marching backwards out of the room.

Flynn and Dolly exit with him, as he very, very slowly closes the door behind him to minimize any sound.

The door clicks shut. NK sighs fondly.

“A most pleasant visit.” NK slips his mask into his pocket and pulls off his gloves. Everyone else de-masks.

NK spins and turns to Rhonda.

“I will leave to you, Comrade Rhonda, the task of reprimanding staff for this lapse in effective care. If I may recommend, hanging by bound thumbs I’ve found to be very effective for behavioral correction.”

Rhonda spins disgusted towards Dolly, who shakes her head like, “obviously, no, don’t do that”.

NK claps, as if declaring this topic closed.

“So, my deepest apologies for my absence during the interrogation! Mark Flynn, did we discover any valuable intelligence?”

Flynn sighs. “Coreytopia and the Illuminatus State were previously friendly diplomatically... And now they’re not. So… Dead end.”

NK shakes his head. “Yes, fine, disappointing. Did you ask about the time delay?”

Flynn’s mouth is agape. “Are you STILL on that?”

“Time delay?”

“NK doesn’t understand taping matches.”

“No no, Dolly Waters! Both OCW and XWF claim to have been live on September 1st! And both events had matches featuring you! In completely different arenas, mere minutes apart!”

Flynn grabs NK by the shoulders.

“NK, Dolly had already wrestled her OCW match by Warfare. Right, Dolly?”

Dolly pauses. “...Yeah. Y-yeah. Yes. Yep.”

“But, then why were Dolly Waters and Hector Malvado still cutting promos Tuesday night?”

“Fuckin’ TV magic, bud. The only kind of magic I understand, from when I was selling ad space on every X-Treme title kickout back in 2014. Dolly must have wrestled her match on Monday or Tuesday just before the promos… Right?”

Dolly… hesitates again. Not as if she’s lying, but as if she’s… trying to keep her information accurate.

“Um… No. Nope. It was… still Wednesday. Just… a Wednesday before.”

“Wait. Like… a whole week before the match aired?”

“No… Um. A Wednesday, September 1st… Before the Wednesday, September 1st... on Warfare…”

Flynn tilts his head, confused.

“...What’s going on here?”

Dolly reaches into Flynn’s pocket and grabs his notebook.

“Hey!”

Dolly quickly scribbles something down. She closes the notebook and shoves it back into Flynn’s chest.

“Don’t tell anyone I toldju about this. If I didn’t think it’d help…” Dolly trails off again, before pulling a 180.

“Rhonda, could you come with me?” And with that, the pair depart.

NK and Flynn are left confused.

“What on Earth was that about, Mark Flynn?”

Flynn flips through the book and finds Dolly’s handwriting.

“Louisville, Kentucky”

“KFC Yum! Center”

“You Are Contractually Obligated to SHOVE-IT!”

Flynn scans this over and over.

He sighs.

“I don’t know, NK. But one thing’s for sure.”

His notebook snaps shut.

“It’s a lead.”