RECAP Last time, we saw Corey Smith transplanted from the current timeline and into a horrific future where Madison Dyson, Corey’s long time enemy, had taken control of the country. Madison captured Corey and his friend Pan, and after a bout of ego massaging, killed them both by throwing them out of her aircraft. However, Corey didn’t die. Instead, he simply returned to this timeline. Now, on the eve of March Madness, after seeing the future that awaits him and all of us, Corey must make peace with ending his XWF career and moving on to something more. And the fight starts now, with Madison Dyson’s demonic council Mammon, the Lord of Avarice.

The shot opens on XWF’s steadfast interviewer Steve Sayors.

Hello everyone. With me today is none other than Corey Smith. Supercontinental champion for the last 6 months, and ready to square off with Angie Vaughn at March Madness for his championship. And Corey, let me first start off by saying…

The shot pans back, to reveal Corey seated next to Steve. He looks battered and bruised. You can tell that even sitting in the seat is mildly uncomfortable for him.

….you look like hell. What happened?!

It’s a…long story. But rest assured, I’m still game for my championship defense.

I certainly hope so. Our buyrates are counting on it. He chuckles nervously. So, let’s start off with the story that everyone wants to hear. Corey, you’ve been very public about the fact that your XWF career may be drawing to a close. Do you still feel the same way?

Corey’s gaze cast downward as he replied. I do, Steve. And I know that’s not the answer most of you want to hear. But it’s the truth.

Steve shakes his head. Wow! It’s truly the end of an era for Corey Smith. A career that has spanned three different personas, six championship reigns…

Seven, Steve. Let’s not forget the 24/7 championship. Corey cracks a smile despite the gravity of the moment.

Of course not! Plus a win/loss record most competitors would kill for. Corey Smith, where do you go from here? What do you do?!

Corey opened his mouth, then shut it abruptly. A strange expression crosses his features, as though he’s having a terse internal dialogue. Well, Steve, I….

BEFORE-??

The shots echoed off the granite floors, kicking up dust and debris. Corey sank back further on his haunches, averting his eyes as he grabbed for his ordinance. Courtesy of Thad Duke. Corey recalled how Thad had wanted to accompany him, to help him. And how Corey had insisted it was something he would have to do alone. A pang of regret tugged at him now for not accepting the assist.

At any rate, he pulled the pin on the grenade and lobbed it around the corner. Screams called out as an explosion soon followed. Corey dove even further away from the corner, ducking and covering. He arose, covered in plaster and dust, to a quieted hallway. Corey approached the corner, blade now at the ready, and peeked an eye into the swirling smoke and licks of blame that now characterized the hallway. Sensing it was safe, he made his way forward. He inadvertently kicked the body of the first mercenary as he made his way through the haze. Corey looked down to ascertain that he was quite dead. The second was a little further along, but the rattle in his chest and slight movements stopped Corey dead in his tracks.

Corey looked down at the man, the miasma having cleared just enough to disclose the shrapnel studded left side of his face. More shrapnel seemed to be buried in his chest, and a steady stream of blood issued forth from the wound. The man was as good as dead, and despite the fact that they were on opposite sides of the equation, Corey couldn’t help but experience a wash of guilt.

I’m sorry. He muttered, driving the sword deep into the man’s chest where his heart would be, ending his suffering. Corey continued on, into another hall with doors on either side. Corey’s steady march was soon interrupted by one of the doors shooting open, and a vested Blackwater mercenary stepped out, spraying bullets. Corey barely had time to duck under the spray. After the salvo was finished, he propelled himself forward, striving to get in close to the man to remove the threat of his firearm. The man, surprised by Corey’s boldness, stumbled backwards, taking Corey’s momentum with him and sending them both to the floor. Corey rolled to his feet, and the grunt got up a short time after, having lost his weapon.

NOW

Steve it’s like this. The XWF, for all its flaws, all the violence, all the mayhem. It will always hold a special place in my heart. It has borne witness to some of the greatest moments of my life. And some of the worst. But I have a different calling now. I want to heal instead of hurt. And I want to focus on my philanthropy. Running the commune. And managing my good fortune so that I can devote my time and money to other good causes around the world.

A noble cause to be sure. And I don’t think anyone could fault you for that.

I’m sure some will try. Haters gonna hate. Corey smiles. But there’s something undivulged behind the smile. Even Steve seems to pick up on it.

So is that all you’ll be doing with your free time?

Isn’t it enough?

I mean, certainly! But don’t you think you’ll get bored?

Yeah, there’s definitely something else there. Oh, I don’t think so.

BEFORE-The Grotto

Pan’s body was warm against his, even as the sun came down and the evening redness held sway. They had been sitting near the banks of the water in their nakedness, holding each other and simply enjoying that tender feeling of skin on skin. But a nagging guilt was with Corey. It attacked on two fronts: did he just get intimate with Pan to forget his troubles. And, perhaps more troubling, was what he just did disrespectful to Christian’s memory, to the times they had together.

Shekel for your thoughts. Pan reached up and gave Corey’s nose a gentle pinch. Corey playfully batted his hand away. He turned towards Pan, going chest to chest, and he brought one knee up against his thigh. He could feel Pan stir again against him.

Just happy.

Hmmmm…

What?

Corey X. Smith it’s never just that simple for you.

My middle name doesn’t start with an X.

Just guessed. But back to the topic at hand, you’re never just thinking about how happy you are. That brain is always working. Pan tapped Corey’s forehead.

You’re right. Corey relented. Of course you’re right. I’m thinking about what I have to do after I leave the XWF. I said I wanted to focus on the commune, on charity, but that’s only half true.

You’re taking the fight to Madison. You want to finish this.

Yes. He replied stolidly. It’s time. No more agreements. No more ignoring. No more capitulation. Not after what I saw.

I want to help you.

No…

Why not? You know I can help.

Of course I know you can help but…Jesus, Pan I saw you get shot in the head and tossed out of a plane.

That was only one of many possible futures. We can change things!

Heh.

…what?

Corey brushed some stray locks out of Pan’s eyes. That’s what you said in the future too.

I still want to help you.

….

Corey? Pan prodded.

I’ll think about it.

You’ll “think about it”. Pan sat up, looking a little disappointed.

I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt fighting my battles for me. Corey reached up, brushing past the point of Pan’s ear to gently touch the side of his head.

I understand. And yet I still want to help.

You’re impossible.

So I’ve heard.

Corey smiled, drawing Pan down to meet his lips. Pan situated himself atop Corey’s body, again pressing skin to skin, drawing the kiss down to Corey’s neck. Corey gave a little gasp of pleasure, his eyes heavenward towards the unfamiliar sky and its alien stars.

NOW

Now, Corey, you’ve made no bones about the fact that you consider Angie Vaughn to be something of a disappointment as an opponent.

True.

So it begs the question, is this the match you really want to go out on?

Why don’t we just say what we’re all thinking Steve. “Why isn’t Corey facing Alias?”

Steve nodded, making a gesture as if Corey had the floor.

Yeah, I’ve thought a lot about that. I always pictured Alias as my dream match. The Unstoppable Enigma versus the Impossible Boy. Put that on a t-shirt and sell it. My detractors will say it’s because I don’t want to be one of the long line of people who’ve lost to him. I mean, the guy has been a freight train, beating the very best the XWF has had to offer time and again. I can honestly say, and I mean no disrespect, I don’t think there is anyone on the current roster that can stop him.

Steve quirks an eyebrow. Including you?

Maybe. Maybe. But I think, more than that, it’s what would beating Alias even accomplish for me. He’s going to be Universal Champion again, and then if I beat him I become Universal Champion. But that title, it just carries so much weight for me.

Because you held it as The Engineer.

And Lux died winning that title. Corey paused, starting to look emotional. He cast his glance to the side before reorienting it on Steve. I’m not sure I’d even want it.

But what if it was better this time, Corey? You could undo everything…

No. Corey’s terse reply brokered no further argument. If Lux couldn’t have it, then I don’t deserve to have it either. Case closed.

BEFORE-??

Corey drew back his sword and slashed low, just as the mercenary withdrew a long wicked looking knife and blocked the slash, momentarily catching Corey’s sword with the hilt of his knife and popping it upwards. Momentarily placed off balance, Corey took a step back and regrouped, only to have to parry one slash, and then another. Corey dropped into a crouch, going for a leg sweep, but the mercenary hopped over the attempt and countered with a boot to Corey’s face. Corey rolled again, and when he stopped blood was dribbling out the side of his mouth and the remnants of a cracked tooth fell down the back of his throat. The mercenary charged, and Corey slashed upwards with such force that it knocked the knife out of the man’s hands. Corey then lashed out with a kick of his own, landing right on the side of his head, before plunging the sword hilt deep in his chest.

There was little remaining between Corey and his goal now. He stepped out onto the floor of the New York Stock Exchange.

It was like some nightmarish version of the eponymous structure. The environment was darkened, and the walls were painted with strange glyphs and symbols that seemed to glow through the gloom. The ground was littered with the bodies of slain brokers, their blood settling into pools all over that drew swarming flies and gnats. And on the plethora of screens, each bore a facet of Mammon’s face. A partial cheekbone here, an eye there, forming a kaleidoscopic vision of his visage that was both haunting and surreal. Corey stepped into the midst of those towering screens, and stood before one of the eyes.

Your men are dead. Madison is next. Corey declared defiantly.

Do you think so? The voice seemed to rumble from somewhere deep beneath the Exchange, a shredding sound that almost seemed to attack Corey to his core. He wavered briefly, before rallying. You’ve seen the future, no? You know how this ends.

I’ve seen A future, Mammon. One of many possibilities. And I’m committing the rest of my life to stopping it.

A laugh bellowed out from the depths. You? Alone?

Corey shrugged, trying to seem demure. Why not?

If you insist. But you’ll fail. You will die. And everyone you love will die. Is that what you want?

I don’t see things panning out that way.

Bah! The arrogance! The same arrogance that allows you to justify using people as pawns to further your petty vengeance.

What are you talking about?

Perhaps I’ll just show you.

A dark silhouette appeared in contrast to the eerie white light broadcast from the monitors. When the figure stepped to the fore, Corey’s mouth set in a firm frown and his body tensed.

Mercy

You remember her, right? The woman you had Doctor D’Ville manipulate into killing Madison Dyson for you? She was happy, Corey. She had a child. She was free. But you undid all of that for her.

Corey swiped an arm through the air, taking a defiant step forward. Okay, yes! I used her! And it was one of the most shameful things I’ve ever done. I own that! But the rest of what happened to her is on you people! I didn’t take her child from her. I didn’t turn her into what she is now!

Mercy doesn’t see things that way Corey. And she’s come to collect. Best of luck to you.

With that, Mercy attacked, leaping at Corey with her blade studded glove bearing down on him. Corey dodged, and then parried another blow from the other bladed gauntlet she wore. Mercy, I don’t want to hurt you! Just walk… But Mercy broke through Corey’s defenses, kicking him fiercely in the chest and causing his heart to buck beneath his ribs. He gasped, skittering backwards to put some distance between them. But Mercy was relentless, sweeping low and then slashing high with her knived fingers. Corey again deflected the swipes, but with Mercy closing the distance with each frenetic strike. Finally, she was on him, and managed to get in a swipe to his midsection. Thin angry wounds appeared on his belly. Corey retreated, crying out in pain and assessing the damage.

What is it that they say about a woman scorned?

They met again, blades clashing over and over. Trading the advantage back and forth. Mercy was eventually able to catch Corey off guard again, sweeping his legs out from under him. Corey lost control of his blade as he fell, and Mercy kicked it away and stood defiantly over him, blades coming down to puncture his throat. Corey rolled to the side and kipped up to his feet, weaponless. Mercy attacked again, and this time Corey had to juke and dive to avoid the slashes. Every time he tried to advance towards his sword she cut him off. Corey knew that eventually he would wear down, make a mistake, and then she would have him. He needed a plan. Needed to do something. His eyes settled on a semblance of a weapon on the floor, and he scooped up a pen. A deviant hissing that Corey soon realized was laughter came from beneath Mercy’s mask.

Mercy faked low and then went high, this time raking her blades across Corey’s forearm. But he fought through the pain, instead lunging into Mercy’s body and barreling into her chest. Mercy back flipped with the momentum, but Corey caught her in mid air with a running dropkick. She hit the ground hard, and Corey moved like lightning, stabbing her in the eye with the pen. Mercy kicked out her legs and howled in agony, leaving Corey time to grab his sword. Mercy ripped the pen out of her eye socket and stood, glowering at her enemy as blood trickled out of one of the eyeholes of her mask. Corey readied his sword and started to fend Mercy off again. But her peripheral vision was off now, and Corey made use of attacking from the side her vision was damaged on. He was able to get in a slash to her arm, and then a kick. And then another, and another. Mercy almost toppled. Corey pulled his sword back and lunged, sending the blade straight through the mouth opening of her mask and out the back of her head. She dropped to her knees and then keeled over, dead.

I’m sorry Mercy.

An angry rumble percolated up from the depths.

You don’t yet understand sorry. I have reinforcements en route.

That’s fine, I was just the distraction anyway.

What?

Outside the Exchange, from an adjacent building, a sea of flying fey head towards the seat of Mammon’s power, carrying what appear to be large seedlings. One by one, they land on the exterior of the Exchange, planting the seeds against the side of the building with a green adhesive. And then, once done, they fly away again. From the ground, Pan watches them go, smiling. And then he turns to look at The Exchange. Come on Corey, get out of there.

Buds burst forth from the seeds and then proceed to grow like wildfire, gathering mass until they are large choking vines taking root in the building, squeezing the walls and causing them to buckle. Some of the vines find their way through the windows, shattering glass and entering.

Back inside, Corey can hear the pained groans of the building. Mammon’s eye glowers at him hatefully.

What have you done?!

Destroyed you. Tiles from the ceiling started to fall to the floor, and the groaning only intensified as the massive choking vines set about their work. Corey barreled out of the room as Mammon cried out in a rage behind him.

NOW

Fair enough, Corey. So, I guess this is goodbye.

It is, Steve.

Is there anything else you want to say? He gestures to the camera.

Yes. He turns to face forward. My favorite poet, Walt Whitman, said that “I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.” I’ve thought a lot about that quite over the years. I’ve asked myself what it means. And I think it means this: there is something cosmic and beautiful even amongst the mundane. There’s beauty everywhere if you’re willing to find it.

With everything I’ve been through, I have forgotten that notion on more than one occasion. But now, I want it to be the guiding principle of my life. And maybe some of you will take it as the guiding principle of yours too. You don’t need to be a dimension hopping super assassin or a millionaire to change the world. You can change it right now. By caring. By loving. And then by doing. And you may think your contribution to be small or insignificant. But it won’t be to the ones you touch. And in the end, that's really all that matters.

Thank you, Corey.

Thank you, Steve. And thank all of you as well. Corey nods to the camera. Goodnight.