Where are you?

Ned typed it down hastily, staring at his smart phone during the rehearsal. Sure, the venue Theo had booked was plenty pretty, complete with chandeliers and an array of decorative curtains and arrangements, along with some almost inedible, immaculate appearing h'ors dou'rves. The party proper had yet to begin, but guests dressed in some of the finest- and therefore gaudiest- New York fashion had already begun to arrive. The surroundings screamed “high society,” a vector of the populace that never much paid attention to Ned or people like him outside of moments such as these. He sighed, staring at his phone for a response, the party's director exasperatedly gesturing for Ned's attention once more.

“Focus, Mr. Kaye, we really can't be doing this all night!” The director, one Stefan Mitchell, shouted, his fingertips pressing into his scalp as Ned awkwardly placed his phone away, awaiting the instructions again that he must have heard a dozen times at this point.

“Mr. Pryce will come out in front of the crowd, introduce you at the XWF Television Champion, the big part of Saga, all of that and then he will say, “Ladies and gentlemen, let the world see for the first time properly: Ned Kaye!” And then!” Mitchell pulled a rope, causing the curtain to Ned's side acting as the prop that would later drop in front of him, Stefan waving his hands for some kind of excitement from Kaye.

Still, Ned mostly smiled in a mildly discomforted fashion, giving a small wave as the director nearly threw his hands up, only being paused by the aforementioned Theo Pryce arriving to sweep Ned away from the rehearsal.

“Pretty lousy display, Ned,” Theo said, sipping a glass through a slight smirk, “hopefully you can muster something a bit better than that for the real thing.”

Ned shuffled slightly in place as Pryce waved him from out of the cramped area he was forced to stand on.

“I think you could use a good break. What good is a big party thrown in your honor if you can't enjoy it a bit?” Pryce's suit was something nearly otherworldly. A dark, matte black with just the barest hint of a dark blue hue underneath the texture that looked to be worth more than a good portion of Ned's checks on the indies back in the day combined. He was in his element here, far unlike Ned who, despite the well-tailored attire, seemed as though he had crashed his own party before it began. His posture was uncomfortably straight, forced into an over corrected position as Ned tried to match the formality of the rest of the surroundings. Taking the opportunity, Ned checked his phone to see if Darcy had responded yet.

No notifications.

“You ought to lighten up a little tonight, “ Theo mentioned, handing Ned a glass of water, the condensation cooling Ned's clammy hand a tad, “you spend so much time acting like you need to be a pillar of morality that you'd benefit greatly from just being a man for a bit.”

“It's not an act,” Ned murmured while taking a slow drink from the glass, trying to feel the ice cold water as it slid past his throat, hoping focusing on it might help how he was feeling, “I keep high standards on myself. There are people out there counting on me. That never ceases.”

Theo rolled his eyes a tad, but gave Ned a pat on the back, realizing that the younger man was still new to this side of affairs and trying not to hold it entirely against him.

“Why don't you take a seat and put that effort towards relaxing? It's a big night, after all.” He suggested.

With a slight nod of his head, Ned decided to find somewhere slightly secluded from the incoming partygoers and sit, his attention split between his glass, his phone, and the pristine outfits of those entering the venue. Suddenly, there was this feeling in his chest- a sort of tightened, claustrophobic uncertainty. With each incoming guest walking through the entrance, that feeling rose as Ned's vision flattened, his ability to think of time passing by or even view what he was seeing as much more than a collage of muddied colors waning. His breath became short as time marched on, a single thought pounding through his head on repeat.

I don't belong here.

---

When Darcy Ellis finally arrived, Theo noticed her immediately. It wasn't particularly difficult, the dress she had chosen to wear looked at least two to three zeroes removed from any other attire at the party. Still, Ned seemed to be in some sort of poor state, so Theo figured he might nudge her in the right direction. She wasn't ever going to make a list of his favorite people, but he was not ignorant of her utility.

“Glad to see you could make it,” he greeted, offering her a mimosa with his left hand.

Darcy, confident in her somewhat tacky-looking dress shook her head at him, her face blatantly unamused.

“You know, I thought rich dudes were supposed to be good at lying.”

“Makes sense. You're not likely to meet them, so I can see why the misconception,” Theo continued his pleasant expression as he overlooked the venue, most of the guests arrived and snacking or sipping on something or another, “And, for the record, I wouldn't have minded too much to buy you a dress so you didn't stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Your money's no good to me,” she said with a hint of venom.

“Except when it's through Ned, right?”

She quieted as he finished his drink.

“Tonight ultimately is not about us. We can continue trading jabs if you really want me to lower your self-esteem, but I think we agree that Ned is the priority here. And admittedly, he could probably use one of your pep-talks about now,” He placed his glass on one of the waiter's trays, moving to start getting into position, “Or don't. You would never want to have to listen to what I have to say.”

She stuck her tongue out at him as he walked away from her, huffing slightly until she finally saw Ned. There was a detached look in his eyes that she hadn't seen since his days as The Chameleon. She sat next to him, snapping her fingers softly.

“Hey, Ned. Earth to Ned.”

He glanced up, finally breaking his trance as he smiled softly, reassured by her presence.

“Hey. What took you so long?”

She smirked, a self-satisfied look on her face as she reached through her purse, handing Ned an address and name scribbled onto a piece of paper.

Michael Keller.

Suddenly, he realized what exactly she had handed him.

“You found that kid, Darce?”

“I said leave it to me, didn't I?”

Without another word, Ned wrapped his arms around her, giving her a tight hug.

“Thanks...” He uttered almost in disbelief, “I can't believe you found him. I gotta go see him. Make sure he's alright. It's been in the back of my mind ever since.”

“Well, I'm sure you can figure something out tomorrow.”

Ned thought and then shook his head, giving a slight smile.

“Why wait?”

“Huh?” Darcy didn't believe what she heard at first until Ned reasserted it, glancing around the room, filled with the so-called “high-society” that thought little of him and his craft.

“I'm not in my element around here. Sure, they'll give me applause and say some nice things, but I didn't get here because of them, but because of people like Mike.”

“But Ned, if you leave now, Theo will be furious!” She pondered for a moment after she spoke, “...but don't let that stop you.”

“You mind staying here for damage control?” Ned asked, beginning to finally take the restrictive coat off of his back. Ellis gave an approving wink as he went to leave out the back, watching the atmosphere go unchanged as he departed.

---

A loud knock reverberated through Mike's front door. He sighed. It was already tough living in an apartment, but he could tolerate it before being forced on crutches due to that last match he had. Grunting as he lifted himself up, he waddled through his front hallway, his shoulders and crutches knocking against the wall as the sound of the TV reverberated down the hall.

“Ladies and gentleman, I am proud to present to you the man of the hour! The XWF Television Champion and one of the finest professional wrestlers out there today! The Saga's very own Ned Kaye!”

There were gasps, followed by a strange silence as Theo looked around, confused and immediately with a hint of irritation in his eye. Darcy, on the other hand, smugly smiled in the back. Meanwhile, Mike opened the door to find the man of the hour himself, suit coat draped over one of his shoulders.

“Hey! How you holding up?” Ned asked, happy to see that the kid was alive and walking. Mike was giddy, but struggled in exactly how to express it.

“I'm- I'm great! Don't you have a party or something?"

"It's whatever," Ned responded, looking over Mike's shoulder and seeing the kneepad he signed placed alongside some other Ned Kaye merch, "I just wanted to say thank you. For being a fan… for everything. It means more to me than you'll ever know."

"It's no problem at all," Mike eagerly responded before shrugging and asking a question, "since you're apparently free, I was about to throw on Bad Medicine '08. You wanna watch it?"

Ned smiled and stepped inside.

"Sure! Sounds great."

---

---

---

Ned walked into the camera's view, a mirror reflecting his back with every step. He wasn't donning the fancy suit he had worn a week prior, instead opting for his ring gear. There was an uninterrupted confidence in his stride, a freedom that the previous outfit had not provided him. However, there was one constant to his attire: The Television Championship, as bright, clear and glimmering as ever around his waist, finally surrounded by a reflection of Ned as clear its glow. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing himself, scars and all, before turning back to the camera, his gaze and demeanor certain.

“Now... this is more like it.”

He raised a hand, adjusting his glove as he stretched out his fingers, ready for battle where he stood, his eyes communicating the same.

“You can dress me up in whatever you'd like, but the fact is that this... this is me at my most comfortable. No frills, no $3000 suits, just a man, his gear, and the belt to match. This is me. What you see is what you get. There is no price on my values. You can't liquidate my spirit. I am not for sale. Not now, not ever. But you, Ring Master? I already thought you were a bit of a sell out who didn't believe in what he preached before, but you went and showed your whole ass on national television. Even worse, you seemed proud of doing it. And what did you sell out for? Why did you betray your fans? Maybe it was for the element of surprise. Yet, you announced for everybody, including me, that you wanted to be the villain to take me down all of a sudden. Perhaps it was money? But you were hanging out with Tech N9ne before, so you obviously weren't lacking in financial stability. You wanna know what you really sold out for? For the swiftest, harshest rebuke in your life, one I am more than prepared to deliver. You're throwing away everything just to earn my boot up your ass. Congratulations.”

Cracking his knuckles, Ned gazed onward, considering giving his opponent some mocking applause, but instead opting to prepare him for the silence that the crowd at Newark would surely offer.

“The thing is, and I'm saying this to the man beneath the Ring Master facade, Johnny, I get it. It's hard doing the right thing over and over again, repeatedly. It feels thankless because it often is. But that's an excuse assholes use to justify acting like they do. If you're not going to stand against people doing the wrong thing because you don't get enough medals or recognition, then you've been standing behind them for longer than even you know. You earned this title shot the right way. You didn't need to start holding yourself like a douchebag or talking about everything the bastards showed you because you can earn it the correct way. You don't want to because its hard. The lesson you learned at Bad Medicine from Charlie Nickles and his buddies was that taking the cheap shots hurts and you that wanna be the one taking them. The tragic part of it all is that Charlie did have an important lesson for you that very same night: that if you cross Ned Kaye, there's no amount of ego in the world that won't be crushed. You had a perfect chance to learn, but now you're in a remedial class you aren't smart or skilled enough to pass with a professor who will humble you so utterly that you'll go back to telling kids to eat vitamins in a month just to get away from the embarrassment.”

Ned crossed his arms, a cold calculating tone to his speech as his words carried on, his eyes narrowing with the growing frustration in his voice becoming more audible. Still, a part of him nearly wished to sympathize, having experienced a similar lapse in his judgment. Nearly.

“I almost can't blame you for shifting so suddenly, Johnny. I mean, you never believed in the things you championed prior, so it makes sense why you would turn on a dime. But the thing is, you don't even seem sure of the stuff you're saying now. You speak the language of bravado as if you were just badly reading it from Google Translate. It is speech without substance. Meanness without meaning. An empty call from an empty heart. And for some reason, you think I'm getting soft. RM, I'm firm in my beliefs- in my convictions. Since I began fighting to become greater than my worst moments, I haven't been swayed from them at all, despite the challenges in front of me. Charlie cheats. I could've justified it. I didn't. I smashed his face across the ring and grabbed that championship from him. King had his beloved interfere a bit with our match. Didn't change a thing. I overcame him all the same and I left him with somewhere to grow from. Soft? Not a chance. But it is a sign of your uncomfortable projection. You changed your shape like putty in the hands of others. You did it to please and impress other people in a selfish, vain fashion. When the harsher winds blew, Ring Master didn't hold in the dirt as they intensified, he collapsed before the first gust had arrived. You were so worried about being viewed as a joke, that you put the jester's outfit on before anyone had even really said anything. You're disappointed in how you look, RM? Good. We all are, especially after your little proclamation.”

He stepped forward, his voice raising with every step, the gold of the championship belt reflecting the many lights around him while he stepped forward, beginning to illuminate the room with a slightly warmer hue, as if it were ushering in the flames building within Ned at this moment.

“If you're out there and you were a Ring Master fan and you had to watch as he threw you under the bus just so he could feel like he's improving his chances against me, I feel you. If you cheered him on week after week just so he could turn around and trade your respect in for a free T-shirt at Bad Medicine, I feel you! If you are let down after watching this man with a single open door ahead of him slam it shut in one interview, I feel you! You don't have to lend me your support, but if you allow me to borrow them, I promise you I will not abuse your trust or treat myself as bigger than you just for the hell of it! I've failed to be my best self in the past, I know what it feels like to lose the support of all of you out there and I will never fall like that again! I don't expect your trust, but at the first Weekend Warfare, I will be our sorrowful vengeance towards Johnny Ice, a man who'd rather melt as a coward then fight with you backing him. JOHNNY! You are outmatched, outclassed, and outnumbered! Bring a dozen bastards and I will show you millions standing behind me all with one singular purpose: to bring you and your like-minded ilk down. There are bigger fish to fry for Saga, but you jumped into this barrel and handed me the shotgun. You just couldn't settle for not being good enough, now you're just not good. Take your best shot, Johnny! Use all that muscle, try to cheat however you goddamn please, it won't matter. You don't believe your own hype and you've lost any that you had. I didn't build Warfare, but I am its unwavering spirit and I will ring in the new era by reasserting one truth, one vital piece of data you have zero answers for:”

“After every hardship, long or short, Warfare, and Ned Kaye with it, stands tall!”

"You can't run from yourself."