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Prince Adeyemi · (12-16-2023)

Following a turbulent year with huge personal lows and career peaks, Ned Kaye has reconnected somewhat with the person he used to sponsor, Amelia Carter. Amy has history with Isaiah’s nemesis, Jeremiah, her old dealer. The three had stuck a massive blow against Jeremiah, blowing up one of his warehouses the weekend of Fire & Ice.

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“Well, fuck.”

Isaiah’s eyes move a million miles a second, shifting from Jeremiah to Ned and then to Ezekiel.

“Wha-wha, wha-”

Isaiah touched his lips at the spot of blood that had splattered against them. Ned raised a hand towards him, just as the door to his gym comes flying off its hinges.

The smell of cigarettes.

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Cold metal.

The defining sensation of Winter in New York City. Where other times of year brought out the humanity integral to the vast and varied communities that populated it, the closing months brought out the unfeeling, uncaring ones. A complex cage where the bars weaved inward and outward, leaving escape as ethereal a concept as warmth. The bars of a bench on the side of the street were freezing, unyielding & firm against Ned’s back as his body leaned against it, his hands tucked in a backpack for warmth. At least, that was the primary motivator. Within was an object that had taunted Kaye for too long, rearing its ugly head whenever a brief moment of respite from the bitter winds of the year passed. His fingers traced over its easily recognizable and the sensation loomed over him like...

Cold metal.

A soft ringing alerted Ned to the opening glass door opposite his gaze, his head swiveling around to see Amelia, dutifully walking out of her latest AA meeting and sitting next to Ned, feeling the poor excuse for seating.

Her face still boasted the signs of their little drug bust, scars and stitches where she’d taken shrapnel.

Reaching into her purse, she dug out a notebook, unease growing across her typically stoic face.

“Jeremiah's moving again.” She prefaced as a hurried and scrambled bit of notes fell into Ned’s grasp, “Sheena from the meeting couldn’t keep her mouth shut, apparently she’s been fucking one of Jeremiah’s guys.”

Ned exhaled, his warm breath accompanied by the steamy fog it caused, “You know I asked you not to get further involved in all this.” He caught some details scribbled.

“And we all know that you decide what everybody does with their lives, right? Because ohhh nooo, only Mr. Kaye can determine right and wrong!”

“You know thats bullshit, Amy,” Ned shot back.

“Let’s not forget I blew up those shitheads last week.” She spat back.

“Against the plan! I’m not trying to determine morality, all I’m saying is you should steer clear of the spaces that got you into a hole in the first place! Addiction one-oh-one.”

“We’re not talking about co-”

“Maybe that’s not what you’re addicted to.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean.”

“Just… actually try and stay alive.”

“Ever thought that that’s why I want to do this? You have your way of helping people, but when I do it, you need to come in and stop me from “hurting myself!” I know what I’m doing.”

“Amy-”

“-No Ned, This fucker hurt people- he hurt me and he doesn’t even know my name! I’m just another junkie to him! I have a way to be done with him and you can’t even wait one minute before the lecture!”

“I don’t want you to throw away your life!” Ned’s tone was harsh, despite the concern audible in his words. “You almost died last week, and you’re back to planning your scooby doo shit again?”

Amy scoffed, averting her eyes from his as memories of blowing up the warehouse rocked her. Memories of he watching men bleed out.

“Yeah, I take on danger and risk every second of my life, but my list of sins is far longer than yours. You have an opportunity to be somebody worth being. You think I’m not happy seeing you trying to save lives despite even when it’s costly? Yeah, I’m proud of you. Is that what you need me to say? I’m proud of you and that’s precisely why I hate seeing you pursue this. Because this shit is already bloody and we both know Isaiah’s ready to dive right into it - but the world needs the person you are right now… for just a little longer.”

An ice-cold chill ran up his spine that had nothing to do with the blistering New York winter.

Frustrated, but sympathetic, Amelia stood, her arms crossed defiantly as she tried to muster a rebuttal, her nails digging into her forearms slightly.

“Just-”

“-I’ll let Isaiah handle it.”

“Well, good thing she called me then.”

Ned cursed under his breath. Stay cool. His fingers snaked back into his backpack.

Cold metal.

“Ned.” Isaiah stood before the two of them, hands stuffed into his leather jacket.

Ned looks at Amy with a look of betrayal.

“You-”

“I knew you wouldn’t buy it, you care too much.” Her voice was determined but with the slightest hint of apology.

“You know she’s right Ned, and whether you believe me or not, I don’t want any of [i]us[i] to get hurt.”

“You have zero regard for life at the face of your war-”

“....I care about life- ”

“-Ya’ll BLEW UP A WAREHOUSE WITH AMY STILL INSIDE OF IT.” Ned pushed himself to his feet.

“She’s alive, isn’t she?!” Isaiah tilted his chin up as he responded curtly.

Ned scoffs at that, before his fingers tightened around the tool in his bag, pulling it out he held it out to Isaiah.

Cold metal.

The steel wrench glistened under the streetlamps cold light.

Isaiah’s eyes widened a second before narrowing.

“Why… Why do you have that.”

“Why did you have it last week, Isaiah? Cos you care so much about life?”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that, that’s not how I win.”

“I want to believe you, Isaiah, I do.”

“Then why won’t you? Why have you been carrying that shit around?”

“-Because you won’t give me a damned reason to!”

It was Isaiah’s turn to avert his gaze from Ned.

“...You’re right. I will do anything for what I think is right. And right now, that’s tying a noose around that bitch’s neck and lynching him before his own people. Doing that’s not going to be easy, it’s going to be bloody… It’s already been bloody. I wish there was no danger in taking him down, but I can’t be sure.”

“That’s right Isaiah, but Amy won’t be the one paying the cost.” Ned’s breathing settled a little.

“No, not if I can help it - but this is war Ned, and Amelia’s spilt both her own and their blood already.”

Ned shook his head in exasperation.

“Your war Isaiah. YOUR war.”

Amy stood up between the two as the distance between the wrestlers started to shrink.

“Actually… it’s gonna be all our wars”

The details he’d read briefly started to make sense to Ned and his mouth slowly fell open, the wrench drops to his side.

Isaiah rested an arm on Amy’s shoulder and spun her around.

“What do you know, how long do we have, and how do I kill this fucker.”

A little shell-shocked from the sudden force, Amy yelped before breaking down Jeremiah’s plan for retaliation for having his drug warehouse blown up.

“He’s lost it… He’s insane. Genuinely insane.”

“We pushed him.”

“No… We humiliated him”

”But this is ridiculous…”

“Jeremiah’s going to poison half of Harlem.”

“We are defined as much by what we keep as by what we leave behind.”

“It’s easy to act as though bad habits are something easy to discard. As if they’re one choice instead of many. I’ve gotten to witness Mark make those tiny choices over time, commit to them and come out stronger than before. Does Mark get on my nerves? Absolutely. In fact, I’m halfway convinced Mark makes that one of his weekly goals. He hops out of bed on Monday morning and concocts a minimum of twelve schemes, half of which piss me off. But goddammit, he tries. I could sit here and criticize Mark and rub his nose in the ways he’s not quite there, but I absolutely won’t. He’s my friend, my ally, and someone with the character to stand by me during some of my lowest moments this year.”

“But now he’s standing beside a man who risks pushing all that progress back.

Bobby Bourbon.

The knock knock joke of professional wrestling. Because the punchline might change, but the setup is the same every damn time. When Bobby isn’t rapping his way into a lousy set of bars, he’s admonishing himself for his own mistakes of trusting Charlie Nickles with anything. The thing is, Bobby, that I respect you, even though you make it impossibly difficult. And now you’re jumping from one partner to the next after your “best friend” collapsed under the pressure of Isaiah. That’s not even two-timing, it’s just fair weather friendship. You attach yourself to people when it is convenient and only then and you spent about ten minutes bitching about the time you actually doubled down on the least deserving person possible, a fortune anyone could have predicted if you weren’t high off your own perceived invulnerability. You’re… what’s the word…”

“A leech Ned? A leech who clamps down on any half-talented pitiful person who can stand to be in the same room as you without throwing up. You sink your claws into them, make them feel great for being allowed the privilege of conversing with the High Pooh-bob himself, and then you suck every ounce of motivation and drive they have left.

You’re right - you’re one of the best.

And so is Mark Flynn.

And really when you were dancing around with Charlie and TK they were too.. Right? They were doing great, moving upwards.

And then suddenly they weren’t.

Suddenly… they got sucked into your blackhole of directionless, purposeless bullshit.

You turned vicious, albeit immoral, tenacious fighters… Into empty little shells who’d rather eat shawarmas with you and play bridge than do anything worth doing in this ring.

Come on - you see what you did… Or didnt’ do for TK? That poor chump finally got what he’s always dreamed of… And then realised his selfish, vampire of a boyfriend was already dancing away with another man.

You didn’t even believe he’d stand the test of the Kingslayer. You were done with him, so you dropped him like he was hot.

Leech is the word you’re looking for Ned.”

“You get average lemonade out of outstanding lemons. You grasp mediocrity from the jaws of greatness and it’s purely your attitude towards this sport. Because god forbid you take anything more serious than how your name sounds coming out of someone else’s mouth.”

Ned turns away from the camera but Isaiah shifts back into frame.

“And Mark. Ned and I don’t quite have that little spark without you in the driving seat, hm? You’re a talented one Flynn… But don’t you dare think I wouldn’t break your neck the second you get in my way. You thought this match would bring us all together? I sure hope so, cos you at least make me laugh when you aren’t actually trying too…

But I don’t need Ned. And he doesn’t need me… But we both certainly don’t need you.

I sure hope you don’t end up the same way as B’s old muses.

I can’t wait to shatter your crown and show you who’s side you should really be on.

Who you should really keep around you.

That is, if you’re actually planning staying the best... Intead of spitting bars and shooting dice.

What'll it be Mark? The cold loneliness of Bourbon's lechery, or the warmth of progress...

...The flames of a crucible?”

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