March 20th, 2021

Shattered glass sat at the feet of Ned Kaye, scattered across the floor of his office at The Notorious Gym. Each glistening shard stared back at Ned, like the eyes of a spider that had fused with the floorboards, waiting to widen its mouth and swallow him whole. A ruby coat began to cover one of the glittering eyes, an inflamed pupil amongst diamonds. Ned glanced downward, noticing a small splash near his shoe; bits of red barely distinguishable from the black fabric. Another droplet sprinted past his point of focus, but its origin was more immediately clear. Ned followed the trail of the droplet upward.


His hand was numb, a glance towards his knuckles revealing a gaping cut, sparkles from bits of glass embedded within the gore. Ned’s fingers trembled slightly, a line of red separating each digit from the rest of his hand. He stared at the remains of the mirror on his office wall, seeing only the woodgrain backing now exposed to the light. There was an inherent terror to mirrors that Ned had begun to feel ever since the vision. Ever since he felt the horror of being on the other side of it and seeing the spectre in his body. That imprisoned feeling was something he had to avoid and mirrors were the gateway. They simply had to be. He could see that being’s face occasionally when he peered into a mirror, a sinister reflection smirking back, taunting Ned with the knowledge that he wasn’t about to be himself for a while. That he would wake up somewhere else with a dread of what his hands had done. Best to knowingly let them bleed than to unknowingly let them cause bloodshed. Or at least better in Kaye’s thoughts. Taking a short breath, he walked towards his desk, pulling out a blue mug, it’s handle staining as he touched it. He looked through the nearby minifridge, grabbing a can of Coke before shakily pouring it into the mug, the soda hissing softly as it accumulated in the mug and on the desk alike. Ned raised the mug to his lips, hesitating as it nearly touched his flesh. He placed it back down, darting back to the minifridge and reaching to a small, concealed bottle of whiskey, obscured by soda cans and water bottles. He hastily unscrewed it and topped it off into his drink, letting each drop empty from its container before pocketing it. He then drank. Despite the chill of the beverage, there was a warm sensation as it travelled down his throat, no doubt the whiskey smoothed by the contents that distilled it. He knew he shouldn’t be touching alcohol at all, but sobriety be damned in the face of madness, he thought. As Ned placed the mug back down on the desk, he saw his phone out of the corner of his eye. A single unread message from his friend Ethan Davis. Unlocking the phone to see it, three words gazed back at him.

On my way.

Ned sat down in his desk chair, eyes pointed at the door as the minutes passed by, the numbness in his hand growing with every second, a small pool of blood growing beneath his hand that hovered above the floor. When the door finally swung open, Ethan was a sight for sore eyes, his jaw dropping as he entered the office and saw the shattered glass and the blood spread around the room. He looked at Ned, his lips shaking with the sheer shock as two words left his mouth.

“Holy shit.”

"Hey, Ethan."

---

May 23rd, 2021

The Nefarious One jolted awake, grabbing Steven Cooper’s hand that had grasped his shoulder. Coop recoiled somewhat, shocked at the speed at which his Avalanche associate awoke. He pulled his hand back, Ned releasing it rather swiftly.

“Hey, calm down there! I was just checking up on ya!”

“Next time you could try and settle for just saying something to me.”

The Nefarious One rubbed his eyes, a sharp stinging in his brain, a cloudy malaise mixed with the pain. Steve had already prepared a cup of coffee for the kid. It was the least he could do after Ned agreed to push for Cooper’s requested match. He handed the cup to Ned. It was a rather nondescript blue mug that Steve had found pressed somewhere near the dusty back of one of the cabinets in the kitchen. Kaye hesitated for a moment before taking a sip, the sobering effects of the coffee beginning to enter his system. Steven watched as Ned drank, knowing he had to get to the real reason he woke his boss up: the training they had planned for later in the day. Still, best to ease into that sort of subject lightly.

“I gotta hand it to you, kid, you sure as hell drank me under the table.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Ned smirked through his obvious hangover.

“You were looking a little uncomfortable there. Just some headaches or a nightmare?”

“Please Steve,” The Nefarious One scoffed, “I don’t have nightmares, I make them. I just underestimated how badly I kicked your ass at chugging shots.”

“Yeah, right! You know what today is?”

“Hm? Oh, the extended space-travel training. Let me just get my coat and get an errand done before we head there. You didn’t happen to see Dr. Pheelanruff step in earlier, did you?”

“Actually… I did.”

Ned gave a wide grin. “Perfect. He and I have a presentation we’ve been working on. Let me address the boy and we’ll be on our way.”

“Sure. Hey, by the way, could you make sure to get that guy to stop lugging props around? I have enough dorky shit I’m exposed to without seeing him pull a Sherlock Holmes hat out of a bag!”

“I’ll mention it, but you’re more likely to turn lead into gold over getting Urias to act seriously. Just let me handle him and we’ll all be fine.”

---

---

---

Did you think it was supposed to look like the posters?
Well it mostly does, oh, if you only read closer
Just ten short years to a new frontier
Snooze as you cruise and you'll wake up here!
You've been trapped in that ship for an awful long time
So perhaps you have simply forgot what you signed.

The Nefarious One walked up to a podium in a large presentation room somewhere in Avalanche HQ, wearing his Hart title around his waist. Urias finished some important parts to this impromptu set, making sure it looked like a true to form lesson, though Pheelanruff probably could’ve worn a more fitting suit.

“You’re gonna do great, buddy!”

“Oh, I’m already well aware.”

“Hello, class! I know we went over a very difficult subject the other day, so I thought we might break it down for one special little boy who still needs a few pointers. Sure, he’s the kind of kid who thinks being erudite is dressing up as a Greek goddess, but our education system is basically begging for this kid to succeed, so he could at least learn a few things first. This is:”


“Now, why is this such an important thing?”


“I know you’re having a tough time comprehending this, boy, but that’s not referring to tools that you chop trees with, but the plural of axis. Now, I’m not even 100% convinced you’ll know that word either, but I can’t really dumb it down any more than that. The important thing to know is that none of this affects your ability to lose to Big D. That is still very much in tact. Now, what does a villain do?”


“That’s very interesting. I wonder if we can identify someone who fits that bill! Like, maybe if someone had desperately made a campaign to get a title belt and used an appeal to popularity to make it seem like people really wanted to see his idiot face again, when he really just wanted another shot at glory? And maybe once everyone realized his bullshit, he started bringing up an unrelated person to make his crusade seem a little less conceited… Maybe something like you’re fighting to retrieve “RL Edgar’s Hart Title”...”

The Nefarious One laughs out loud, clapping his hands together as the presentation fades from view.

"RL Edgar? "His Hart Title?" Psh, I'm sure you said that so some twinks wearing your merch might swoon at the thought of your selfless act, but you should keep my sloppy seconds out of your mouth. This was never about him for you, but I'm sure it looks real nice on a resume. Don't pretend like your crusade for the Hart Title was anything more than you floundering in an anguished attempt at gaining respect. What do you have, seven title reigns? How many of them meant anything on a broader scale? One: your tag reign. You had to be dragged into relevance because everybody knows even your Universal Title run was more like a staggered hobble. If that could be called a "run," then I suppose I'm sprinting behind this podium. You want this belt so you can look and feel real important. That's why you wanted to beat Ned. He's everything you want to be. Heroic, valiant, respected. Dead and fuckin' buried, too! Ned held a belt six fewer times than you and the loss of him meant more to this entire federation than ANY of your disappearances ever had. The one man you wanted to beat to make yourself feel comparable? I got rid of him, boy. I beat him down and broke him before you ever had the chance. I took that from you and you'll never get it. I stole it from you so utterly and completely that you're still in denial about it. Still convinced you're facing Ned. But I gotta admit, it was a lot of fun having a designated sink for all of my cruelty and that spot's been left vacant ever since I tore Ned down and left the idea of him in complete shambles. Why do you think I wanted you to sign a contract, kid? You're a temp for a job Ned always did better, but you already knew that. You would have thought that imposter Beelzebub of yours might've warned you to not sign things that The Devil beckons you to, but hey, it's not like you're about to make that mistake twice."

“The fact of the matter is that you’re trying to win the Hart title because you think afterwards maybe Daddy will actually love you and the whole fed will give you a pat on the back after your lacklustre title reigns because you put one more onto the belt. I can’t blame you for coming to that assumption. Brainless neanderthals are known far and wide for thinking that something shiny will make their lives better, that’s why they worshipped the sun and you worship the thing on my waist like my name was Corey Smith. And I don’t mind that you’re gay, kid, I just mind that you suckle on every cock you can find like they’re going to ejaculate relevance onto your face. You did it with Chris Page, you did it with your own partners, and now you’re doing it to Avalanche. You just didn’t expect to choke so hard this time. Funny thing is, as much as you suck on everyone around you, no one’s balls are touching your chin more often than your own. Makes sense why your animal of choice is an overgrown pussy that almost licks its own genitals more than you do. You go on these long rants about how you put the spotlight on people like Demos, Page, and I without a hint of irony, like a caveman in ecstasy over the sun following him as he marches West. Kiddo, the reason the spotlight is around you is because you frantically chase to find it any time you don’t feel it’s heat on your skin. I mean, look at Continuum. Lost one match and now everybody is slowly forgetting about its existence as APEX shows up and wows everyone again! That’s called staying power, buddy boy, and anything you touch has whatever the opposite of it is. Here’s a hard truth for you: Avalanche could lose every match we’re involved in for two years and still get higher billing than you the entire time. People just don’t give a flying fuck about you, boy. I had to watch your promo at 2x speed to pay attention and I still fell asleep after the eighth minute of you gargling on your own preejaculate! You think anybody listens to any of that boring ass shit you put out all the time? You could replace one of your promos with an autofellatio video from PornHub and 75% of people wouldn’t notice. Hell, the remaining quarter would think it was an improvement!”

"You see, asking if you’re a good wrestler is kind of like asking “Do vaccines cause autism?” The answer is clearly no, but that won’t stop a few people on Facebook from swearing it until the day they die. Honestly, though, if you began getting linked to early onset autism, I highly doubt many people would be surprised. I am going to blame some dementia on you, though, because there is absolutely no way someone watches one of your promos and remembers any of it without writing it down. I’ve witnessed yawns more exciting than any of the words that come out of your mouth. If you starred in a 1920s film with sound, we’d still be watching silent films to this day. I am fully convinced you chug enemas prior to filming with how much crap comes out of your mouth. Let’s make this even fucking simpler, because I know we haven’t had pretty pictures in a while and your attention is fading rapidly. Nobody likes you. You don’t do anything of any worth to anybody. You lost the tags and abandoned your team ever since. You’re not a star. You’re not qualified to hold this title. You’re not even qualified to hold this title for me while I take a shit. You are a hypocritical, broken little boy who’s acknowledged by association. You are the fucking Paris Hilton of wrestlers. With how much you stand and benefit off of the reputation of your shitty father, your last name ought to be Venture. You know why Cooper assumed I was just gonna use him to make myself look good and not care about his or Stone’s career? Because he sees a “hero” like you exhibit that behavior without a care in the fucking world! You feel bad because you killed someone? I’m sure his family would’ve appreciated it if you felt bad prior to the whole murder thing. But that sums you up pretty fucking well, doesn’t it? You go off and do all of these awful things that you would mindlessly drone on about if I did them and then you pretend to care later so people assume that means you have empathy. You would cry more over a shaved head than you ever would killing a man and you just want everyone to ignore that!”

“Here’s the thing, kid! I knew your pathetic little following would come looking my way when you challenged me. That’s what I was counting on! Let’s say I lose? Not a chance in hell, but hey, space is new for me! Even if you won this belt off of me, everyone is going to know what a disingenuous little shit you are. They will see you for the awful, tumorous mass that you have been this entire time and as you achieve that gauntlet, each week you’ll see less and less of your t-shirts out there in the crowd. More judgement from those who once called you a saint and see only the sinner. But when I win? Not only do I drag your reputation through the mud and the muck, undoing years of necessary PR you needed after dying your hair brown to escape your easily hateable blonde, but I also make you look like a gigantic idiot in space. You get to be a once in a lifetime fool. A millenium moron! All because of me. Do you see the difference? You just get to have a match with me. Win or lose, I decide your goddamn fate! That’s villainy, child! That’s being the greatest champion in this business while Chris Page and the man who whipped your old partner beat two bitches in one night and people will try to make it sound impressive! Speaking of Chris Page, it’s hilarious just how much you try to resemble him, too. God, there’s nothing original about you! You’re a hackneyed copycat, despite your family name. Lacklan took a name nobody cared about and made it a brand, you turned a name people did care about into one nobody does! And now you want to talk down to me like some discount Chris Page! First of all, CCP knows he can’t beat me and only ever got in my face because I was hurting Dixon’s merch sales! Second off, you will never be Chris Page! You have a win over that man and everybody forgot about it long past you reminiscing over it. You could beat Steve Jason clean in the middle of the ring and everybody would forget about it the next night. Forget Jesus turning water into wine, you’ve turned opportunity into mediocrity way more often! You’ll never be Ned Kaye or your father or Chris Page or anybody worth a damn no matter how hard you try. You can forget the mean truths I tossed your way, forget how I’ve poisoned this apple long before you bit in it, even forget about the damn title and just remember this: No matter what, you’ll still just be you and there is absolutely no greater insult than that.”

You should have read the fine print, my friend.

---

---

---

As Steven and Ned arrived at the NASA training center, they were greeted by some overly enthusiastic young intern convinced this whole escapade would reignite interest in space travel, something Cooper hadn’t seen in the span of his life outside of a few billionaires here and there. But the facility was truly something else. As much as Steven thought this whole moon thing was basically asking for litigation limbo for the rest of the XWF’s life, it was hard not to see the equipment and be taken aback. A zero-gravity chamber, monitors for nearly every aspect of navigation, a machine made for astronauts to experience the same Gs as they would at launch. This was some advanced shit and it couldn’t help, but make Steve smile. Ned on the other hand was all business. Sure, he kept a cocksure expression, but that was his basic mode of operating with other people. He didn’t seem too interested in this whole thing past formality. Steven hadn’t said anything about it, but it was obvious to everyone how much ned wanted to break Thaddeus Duke. He had stopped even saying his opponent’s name just because he knew that would get under Duke’s skin on a conceptual level. Kaye was a man on a mission and the destination was secondary to the man he was about to destroy. The NASA intern led them to the zero-grav chamber, letting the two men get comfortable before turning on the magic. In a mere instant, they began to float, the oldest of all humanity’s truths feeling far less definitive than it had seconds prior. It was an indescribable sensation for Cooper who watched Kaye’s relative lack of amazement with some shock himself.

“What, is defying gravity too passe for ya, big shot?”

“Oh, it’s not that. I’ve just been thinking about something.”

“Well, I’m all ears.”

Ned paused, letting his thoughts ruminate at first. “It’s not lost on you how profoundly unsafe this all is, is it?”

“Psh, please! I realized how little the XWF gave a fuck about us when they decided they’d send us to space in a few months notice! This company makes a lot of cash and I’m happy to compete here, but it is a real piece o’ shit!”

“It’s run by a few of those, at the very least. That’s the problem with being X-Treme. They’ll gut you dry to make a few more dollars here and there. They’ll have people line up to defend their practices while launching some people onto the moon with a highly budgeted price tag. That’s why BoB is friend to management and not us, Steve. We don’t play their games the way they like it.”

“Yeah, I s’pose. Why’s it on your mind?”

“If something happens to me here or in space, don’t let them take me to one of their physicians. I’ll die before I let them pump me full of shit for a profit.”

“Shouldn’t talk about dying, kid. Not before you’re much closer to kicking the bucket.”

“Maybe not, but I still want you to promise me that, Coop.”

Cooper shrugged, hovering mid-air, “I don’t know… I guess it depends. If you get shot here, I’m probably taking you to a damn hospital.”

“Fine. Anything less than that, you take me to HQ? Are we clear?”

Steven gulped, uncertain how comfortable he was with agreeing.

“Crystal.”

“Good to hear.”

As they exited the chamber, the intern led them to the big machine that spinned. That was what Steve had always referred to it as, but centrifuge was so much more accurate and fancy. They offered to put Ned and Coop in that sucker, but Steven just fibbed and said he was only accompanying Ned to this training/conditioning. Last thing he needed was a serious dive into his medical records and to puke on some multi million dollar equipment. Taking a breather, Steve sat near the operator of the machine, watching as Ned was strapped in and subsequently spun. It was clearly a strain on Ned, but Steve knew how the kid thought. Knew how much breaking and pushing limits was for him. So while everything was exciting and hi-tech with all the knobs on the control panel, Coop couldn’t shake the feeling that Ned would ask for more power. As the centrifuge slowed, Ned called out over the microphone in the machine.

“I’d like to experience it at a higher speed.”

There it was. The operator sat somewhat taken aback, gulping as he shook his head. He pressed the button to speak to Ned, “Sorry, sir, but I really can’t do that. You’ve all only been cleared for a few tests here, nothing too extreme.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a request. Steven, break his hand.”

The operator looked in horror, turning to Cooper who rolled his eyes, grabbing the operator’s hand, who responded with a yelp of sorts. Steve hated when Ned got like this. With a sigh, he motioned for the operator to press the button to start the communication towards Ned, but he was a bit too scared to understand pantomime.

“I’m not gonna break your damn hand, just- just press the button so I can talk to him!”

As the button was pushed, Steven spoke up into the mic, “Look, Ned, we don’t have to do that. He’ll make it go faster, there’s no need for any hand breakin-”

“I swear, I can’t increase the speeds! I might lose my job, please just let go of me!”

Cooper huffed a bit, seeing the camera view of Ned show a quite unamused Nefarious One.

“See, you say that AFTER you stop pressing the button! AFTER! I’m trying to save you a few hospital bills, son, and you can’t keep-”

“But I can’t-”

“Your goddamn mouth shut!” Cooper slammed his fist on an unoccupied spot of the control panel, “If you don’t shut up right now, I am gonna break your hand!”

“That’s what I said, Steven.”

“Could you let me handle this now? I am pissed and I think I might go finger by finger!”

The operator reached for the speed controls, increasing them to 1.5 times the previous power.

“L-look, I did it! Please don’t! Don’t!”

Coop tossed the man’s hand away, frustrated as all hell, just wanting this next sequence of training to be done with.

“Now press the button.”

The operator pushed an unbroken finger onto the communications button, prompting a baffled Steven Cooper to stare at him, unsure how this man even got his job.

“The START button! How could you think- how did NASA hire somebody so fuckin’ dumb?! Punch start for God’s sake!”

The operator slapped his hand down onto the start button and the machine began again. As it spun around, it was considerably faster than Cooper even expected and the strain on Ned was tenfold. Something was going wrong. He just felt it in his gut, but he knew if Kaye wasn’t out cold in there, he was gonna get an earful if he stopped it early. It wasn’t until the operator timidly spoke up that Steve knew the time for this star bore was long past over.

“I-uh… I think he passed out from the strain, sir…”

“THEN TURN THE FUCKING THING OFF!”

Steve looked over to the monitor, Ned’s unconscious body limp in the machine. All he could hope is that his boss’s need to push himself wasn’t about to put him in the ground. And that the kid didn’t need to go to the hospital. Just hang in there, Cooper thought. The last thing he needed was another dead friend.

---

The Nefarious One awoke, a pitch black emptiness surrounding him. He twisted his head around, searching for any distinguishing elements to the environment, but met with only further vacancy. Looking at his hands, he noticed he could see himself perfectly, as if there was flat lighting upon him despite the contrasting evidence. That’s when it clicked for him. He was in his own mind. Just another overactive dream of the brain he had to share. He chuckled slightly, rolling his eyes at taking even a few seconds to figure it out. But before he could crack his knuckles and think of something else, a voice rang out from behind him.

“How’s it been, Ned?”

The Nefarious One turned around, baffled to see a vision of Ned’s father, David Kaye. With a grin, he shook his head, taunting the old man.

“I’m sorry, Dave, but you have me mistaken for someone else. This body’s been under new ownership for quite some time.”

“Can’t say I see that from where I’m standing. All I see is my son, maybe just a little misguided, but he’s mine for sure.”

“God, does Ned really remember you as this sappy?” The Nefarious One sunk his face into one of his palms for a passing moment, holding the laughter back. “I swear you sounded a bit different from this!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Old man, I hate to break it to you, but you’re really not going to make any progress with me. Not only are you long dead, but the person you exist to enable is withering away at the back of my mind. The real question is why is Ned thinking about you right now?”

The Nefarious One pondered it for a moment before his eyes lit up with an answer.

“Of course! Leap of Faith! That was the last show you lived to witness. He thinks dragging up your memory of the last time he ever did anything important might give him a chance to break out of the back of my head! God, what an idiot! Can you imagine being so self-centered that you have to throw some tattered memories of dead people to make yourself feel good? Hell, watch him throw Lilian at me next! I’m sure he’d love to hear what I have to say to her.”

“I think you underestimate my son. I always taught him that being good meant fighting, even when it was hard. Sure, I wasn’t always the best father, but I tried to be. And he can try to be the best man he can possibly be. You can do that. If you’ve been in his head for so long, you must’ve heard some of what I had to say. You can still follow that example. It’s never too late to change.”

“Never too late? Dave, you’re in the fucking ground! Ned’s about as close to being a faint memory in everyone’s minds as you are and I am squeezing the life out of him day by day! There is no change for me! This is what I am and no one can stop me! Your son died in front of a crowd of cheering fans and now I get to bask in the lights as I kill the pathetic remnant of legacy he’d been building! I’ve destroyed everything he built, Dave.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Ha! I wou-”, The Nefarious One hesitated, his face sinking as the elder Kaye smirked. “What did you just say?”

The void began to rumble around them, The Nefarious One staring at David as the ground beneath them seemed to collapse, sending them downward infinitely.

---

“Son of a bitch!” Cooper shouted, kicking open the front door to the Avalanche Headquarters. In his arms was the unconscious Ned Kaye. They were noticed quickly by Dr. Urias Pheelanruff, who had been watching some cliche telenovela, only to be met by his prone patient as Steve rushed towards the couch the good doctor lounged on.

“Out of the way, P! The boss ain’t doing so hot and the last thing he needs is to wake up on your ass!”

Urias jumped up before he had a chance to respond, giving Coop a perfect chance to set Ned down before explaining anything.

“Hey-uh, I actually had something to bring up to Ned once you got back-!”

“Yeah? Well, can it for fifteen goddamn minutes and figure out what’s wrong with him first!”

“Figure out…? Wait, do you mean Ned’s in a medical emergency?!”

“Gee, Doc, ya think the rushing back here with a fainted Ned Kaye mighta clued you in? Now do somethin’!”

“Why didn’t you take him to the hospital?”

“He specifically asked me not to! Who cares anyway! You’re a doctor!”

“I’m not that kind of doctor! I find trauma through talking about things with visual aids!  I do mental stuff!”

“Well, this is all pretty mental to me, P!”

At that moment, the power in Avalanche HQ cut out, leaving the two men in complete darkness.

“It’s just fuckin’ everything today, isn’t it?! P, you go somewhere safe for a bit, I’m gonna check why the back-up generator isn’t on!”

“But what if I get lost?”

“Then hide behind a fern or something, just do anything but be out in the open while all this wacky shit is goin’ on!”

It took Cooper a few minutes to navigate the building to get even close to the stairs leading to the basement. It didn’t help that this place gave him the creeps in the dark and the only source of light he had was from his flip phone’s display. Making the walk down the flight of stairs beneath was far more of a challenge in the dimly lit cavern of shadows. It didn’t help that he didn’t have his reading glasses on him, so any text down here was going to be a bitch and a half to decipher. Still, he was able to recognize the back-up generator from memory. Upon further inspection, he saw something sticking out behind it. That’s when it became clear exactly what he noticed: the cables connecting the generator to the building had been totally severed. Steven stood up and rushed for the door.

---

“And?”

“P, you were literally there when it happened. Somebody had locked me in the basement and you couldn’t figure out how to work the damn door until the lights came back on.”

“Yes, but it’s important to get your version of events. For all we know, it could’ve been you and you were lying! That’d explain why that door was so tough for me to open.”

Steven gave a sigh of general exhaustion. He’d never get used to dealing with this quack as long as he lived. Urias sat across from him writing Coop’s recountance down in a small notebook. All of this just took place about an hour ago and Ned was just to regain consciousness as everyone tried to get a hold of exactly what had happened. It didn’t help that whatever intruder they had decided it was a good idea to smash a bunch of shit during their ten minute blackout. Now, Steve had to deal with Urias trying to gather as much information as possible for a building he didn’t even live in. Besides, conversation had never been as much of a trusted ally to Steven as violence had been, so he’d been done with this interrogation long before his authenticity started being questioned.

“Yeah, so would general incompetence. Look, I’m not in the mood to play private dick- emphasis on one of those words- while some dipshit’s out there with an unpunched jaw after breaking my shit. You wanna solve this mystery? Be my guest, just let me focus on real problems for a bit.”

Steve got up, leaving Urias alone to his own devices. Immediately, it all became clear to the good doctor. This was the hand of fate at play and there was only one solution: he walked over to his bag and pulled out the duck-billed cap. Placing it on his head, he knew that he had to solve this mysterious string of events. The game was afoot!

---

TO BE CONTINUED IN: URIAS PHEELANRUFF: CONSULTING DETECTIVE OR; HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE BOARD GAME

OOC: THAT’S RIGHT! NED KAYE MAKES A (board) GAME PART II! Keep your expectations measured, lol.

"You can't run from yourself."