The Story So Far...

And now… The story continues!

***

Present Day Henryville, IN 35 Minutes Away from Downtown Louisville

Highway 65. Rural as fuuuuuuuuck.

A bunch of trucks, family campers… Mini-Vans… Clog the roadways.

Incredibly, despite the jam, one car maintains the speed limit... a Limousine deftly maneuvers through a score of slower vehicles, revving like a sportscar.

Its diplomatic North Korean flags waving in the breeze, mounted onto the vehicle’s hood.

In the drivers’ seat, the Man They Call Kato, with the smallest degrees of control in his hands, effortlessly whips and twists the wheel in a way that the oceans of traffic seem to part around him.

And who is sitting in the passenger seat?

What diabolical demon dares to do dastardly deeds daily and defiantly deals deceit to debut the defeat of all decency?

Who else but that PRICK, the North Korean War Criminal?

…

Currently pouting with his knees to his chest. Still buckled in, of course. Kato refuses to drive even a foot without his passengers all seatbelted in safely.

“I HATE THE FRONT SEAT.”

“Now, now, commander. You didn’t hate the front seat when you drove with Corey Smith in his Hyundai Tiburon.”

“BECAUSE I ENJOYED SITTING NEXT TO COREY SMITH, KATOOOOOO. YOU FOOL!”

Kato brushes off that hurtful comment.

“Commander, we both agreed that we’d let Coach Flynn have some time to… recompose himself. Allow him a meditation period.”

“I DON’T RECALL THAT.”

“I believe if you’d check your notebook, you jotted down our agreement in your records...”

NK reaches into his pocket and tosses his notebook at his feet.

“WELL, WE CAN’T CHECK NOW, CAN WE, KATO?!?”

“...We could, sir. Can you not reach your feet and retrieve it?”

NK reaches without bending down or taking his back off the seat, just being a brat.

“NO! SEE? IT’S TOO FAR AWAY!”

“Sir, I th-”

“IT’S GONE FOREVER, KATO.”

NK crosses his arms in front of his chest, stewing in fury. Kato sighs and resumes focusing on the drive.

“I HATE THIS. EVERYONE CAN SEE ME.”

“Commander, the windows are precisely tinted. No one can see you.”

“MY LEGS ARE CRAMPED.”

“Sir, please, you’ve made it almost the entire drive without a fuss…”

“I THOUGHT MARK FLYNN WOULD GET OVER IT QUICKLY. I DIDN’T THINK I HAD TO SIT IN THE FRONT SEAT THE ENTIRE DRIVE.”

“Sir, patience, please. Coach Flynn is obviously dealing with some… feelings. He’s harboring some thoughts that if we’re lucky enough, he’ll share when he’s finished contemplating them.”

“I HATE HIM.”

“You don’t hate Coach Flynn, sir. You hate the front seat and you’re misplacing your anger onto Coach Flynn.”

NK suddenly points to an exit sign about a half-mile up the road.

“STOP THERE, KATO!”

“Sir, would you like to stop for a bathroom break or is your aim to kill Coach Flynn and dump his body so you can lounge in the backseat again?”

...

“...It’s MY backseat, Kato! I called permanent dibs the MOMENT Central Command gave us this limousine DECADES AGO. Permanent dibs MEANS something to people of good breeding stock.”

“Sir, please tolerate the drive just a few moments more…”

“Kato, you have no idea how INSENSITIVE you sound right now. You have no idea what it’s like to NEVER know when something will come that you desperately desire.”

“...Sir, I haven’t eaten in four days…”

“Ugh, this again…”

NK rolls his eyes as if Kato receiving sustenance was the most trivial matter. Suddenly, his eyes spark with inspiration.

“Kato! What if we kill and… eat Flynn?”

Kato’s entire face flexes in the most thorough disgust… And the most desperate hunger…

Kato’s eyes well up with tears. The last morsel he consumed was an after-dinner mint he fished from a bag of leftovers… My god, the trace residues of sugar still in his teeth ninety-six hours later… Pure ecstasy… He couldn’t tell if he had been hallucinating the flavor since then and Kato knew sugar couldn’t live in a mouth his long…

Still, he heard its voice... it had been beckoning to him…

Feed, Kato… Feed…

“We… We couldn’t... We shouldn’t even speak on this topic with Flynn so close.” Kato says, betraying his fears, not of consuming another human, but that human discovering their cannibal plot.

NK smiles deviously. “Oh, please, the partition is sound-proof! Flynn is deaf to our plots and machinations.”

“That MIGHT be true if you two remembered to roll up the partition.”

NK spins in his chair and sees Flynn. For the first time in the four-hour drive, not staring out the window.

NK’s hand reflexively darts for the partition button!

…

…

The partition, incredibly slowly raises. Flynn holds eye contact with NK, who is horrified as he raises the divide.

…

…

It reaches the top.

…

…

And just as slowly, the button clicks and the partition lowers back to the bottom.

…

..

As it drops, Flynn sees NK’s fake robotic smile when he’s trying to win someone over.

…

…

It comes to a stop at the bottom.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeeeey… Buuuuuuddy!”

NK leans over the side of the passenger seat chair.

“Are you ready to talk about it?”

Flynn sighs and stares out the window.

NK strokes his chin… Then, eureka!

“Mark Flynn! I have an idea!”

NK reaches into his sleeve compartment to retrieve a pen.

“Back when our WarGames Team was camping, we met with a doctor. Doctor Talker!”

“Oh! Excellent idea, commander! Do you believe this Doctor Talker could help Flynn?”

“Oh no, he’s very dead now. But he showed us a game called The Talking Stick! If you have the talking stick, you are encouraged to speak.”

NK holds his pen straight-up in the air.

“I DECLARE THIS PEN THE TALKING STICK!”

“AND I SPEAK THUSLY THAT FLYNN SHOULD SHARE HIS FEELINGS WITH US?!?!”

Kato nods triumphantly, confident that this plan is fool-proof.

NK holds out the pen into the backseat.

Flynn…

…

Without looking away from the window, Flynn takes the pen into his right hand…

Both NK and Kato take bated breath, waiting to receive Flynn’s feelings…

Flynn moves the pen into both hands…

And, with a crunch, snaps it in half.

“NO! THE TALKING STICK! NOW WE ARE DOOMED TO AN ETERNITY OF SILENCE!”

NK falls into his seat, his muscles tremoring! He seizes in pain as every word he’s just said inflicts upon him a lifetime of agony!!!!

Kato… feels nothing.

“...Sir, I can speak with no pain at all.”

NK’s eyes open and he lifts himself back upright in his seat. After inspecting his person, he finds that he is unaffected.

“Mmmm. Yes. It seems the same is true for me.” NK ponders this fact. “Aha! Perhaps breaking the talk stick negates its effect! What a discovery Mark Flynn has stumbled upon! I must jot it down!”

NK effortlessly reaches down to his feet to retrieve his notebook… But then remembers that Flynn just broke his favorite pen. He sighs, sliding the notebook back into his pocket...

“Are you disappointed that the optimal path failed you?”

Flynn spins, seething at NK who hides, peeking over the top of his chair.

“Because I wouldn’t think of it that way, Mark Flynn!”

“It was an admirable battle! While you did not secure victory, per se, that should not sully an incredible performance!”

NK elbows Kato in his completely empty ribs…

“Eh, Kato?”

The sudden suction of air in his gut echoes hunger pangs thought dormant… He tries to swallow all the saliva his mouth ushers forth, as if doing so would dismiss the shame he feels at this moment.

“A noble fight, indeed, Coach Flynn. You took a former Universal Champion to a draw. Moreover, you battled through unbearable physical toil. Hammering your knee joint… Tenderizing it… Softening the muscle...”

Kato licks his lips, his eyes cross in sudden carnal fantasy.

“My God, another few strikes to the joint and the meat might have fallen off the bone…”

“NK, can we get Kato to a fucking McDonald’s or something?”

NK strokes his chin before checking the clock.

“Eh, it’s already 10:39… We missed the breakfast window and I only like McDonald’s for its Breakfast… Y’know, their Bacon… Egg… Biscuit… Pancakes...”

Kato mouth is now overflowing, imagining morning cuisine… And also people. Dear God, he can’t unflip this switch for cannibalism… What if he could wrap Flynn in a giant pancake…

“...Oooooooh… Flynn in a blanket…”

“Okay… If I talk about my…” Flynn wretches and grimaces at the next word... “...feelings... Will you two find it in your hearts to NOT kill and eat me?”

...NK side-eyes Kato… Who is silently and ashamedly weeping... as the saliva bubbles over his bottom lip and drips down his chin. He has become multiple faucets of various fluids.

“...Yes, Mark Flynn. We both promise.”

Flynn exhales and stares back out the window.

“Okay…”

***

September 26th, 2021 Chicagoland Speedway Chicago, IL

Quote:

0:02 0:01 0:00

HHL: The bell has rung and Pip, for all intents and purposes, this match is over!

PIP: Flynn had to beat Thad, Thad didn’t have...

HHL: This was technically a vacant championship, Pip!

Quote:NK hands Flynn the SuperContinental title and the duo pose in opposite corners. NK, posing with Thad’s Hart championship.

HHL: Uh oh!

PIP: North Korean War Criminal has just got the ire of the Lionheart!

WINNER: DRAW

NKWC jumps off the buckles where he eats a Superkick from Thad! Flynn hops off the ropes only to be clotheslined out to the floor.

HHL: And just like that, the epic confrontation that had been months in the making has ended. And what a match it was!

Thad, exhausted from his hellacious match, is leaning in the corner. Flynn is getting helped out of the ring by a couple of ringside officials.

One walk to the back later...

Just outside their locker room, NK rubs an ice-pack over the shiner under his eye that’s been brewing since Thad kicked him in the face about 18 minutes ago.

NK ponders if now is the time…

He peeks the door open a crack.

“Heeeeey, Mark Flynn! Did you still want to try and talk to Thad post-match? Interrogate him about the Ares Project?”

WHAM! The sound of a steel-folding chair slapping the inside of the door, then clattering metal on the floor. The door slams shut again.

“...Okay!” NK calls through the closed door. “We’ll… uh… We’ll do it later!”

Suddenly, in NK’s pocket, a buzz.

The 2003 Motorola Razr.

An unknown number…

…

*click*

“Hello! Extended vehicle warranty? I’ll take it!”

“NK.”

“...Ah, is this Agent Marie Davenport?”

“Flynn with you?”

Another loud series of echo-ey clangs from the locker area… That wasn’t a chair… That might have been a wall of lockers being brought down…

“...Mark Flynn is… Near me? We’re in the same vicinity.”

“Give him the phone.”

NK hesitates.

“Um…. He might need some time.”

“Now.”

NK takes a deep breath.

He knocks politely.

“Mark Flynn! It’s… Agent Marie Davenport.”

Suddenly, all the clatter in the room goes silent.

The door creaks open…. And all at once a hand snatches the phone from NK.

“Oh! Um!”

The door slams shut.

The floor of the locker room is surrounded by twisted metal, collapsed and crushed lockers, chairs torn at the joint… This room is fucking rubble. Even the wood from a bench built into the wall has been kicked in half.

Flynn takes a seat criss-cross applesauce on the floor in the center of the room, surrounded by everything he’s broken around him.

He presses the phone to his ear. Before he can say a word, he’s preempted.

“Flynn. Status Report.”

“I GOT FUCKED, MARIE. THAT’S MY STATUS.”

A beat. He leans over his knees.

“Okay. Mission Status Report.”

“I THOUGHT… that I wouldn’t get FUCKED OVER again.”

“We were fighting for a VACANT CHAMPIONSHIP. AND FUCKING THE-POWERS-THAT-BE DECIDED THAT THAD RETAINS ON A DRAW. NO OVERTIME.”

…

“FOR A CHAMPIONSHIP HE DIDN’T HOLD.”

…

“DO YOU GET WHY THIS IS BULLSHIT, MARIE? DO YOU EVEN COMPREHEND THE FUCKERY AT PLAY HERE?”

…

“EVERY TIME I COME BACK TO THIS CESSPIT. RANDALL CROSS. WALLACE WITASTICK. THE BLACK CIRCLE. AND NOW THIS. I GET TARGETED FOR FUCKERY. I DON’T GET BEATEN LEGITIMATELY, SO THEY HAVE TO PULL OUT A RULEBOOK AND FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK ME ON TECHNICALITIES THAT THEY HAVE TO INVENT OUT OF THEIR FUCKING ASSHOLES.”

“I END UP BEATEN AND BLOODIED AND BRUISED, I CRAWL THROUGH A FUCKING SEA OF HORSESHIT VERTICALLY TO CLIMB TO THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN… THEN THEY LIFT THE SUMMIT TEN FEET AND FUCKING KICK ME BACK TO THE BOTTOM.”

…

“Jesus Christ, are you done, Flynn?”

Flynn’s eyes refocus in the moment.

“Are you really sitting there pitying yourself... Thinking I'll give you a pep talk?”

Flynn sucks in air through his teeth, caught in a moment of weakness.

“First: I don’t give a shit.”

“I get it. You're old. Probably on mid-life crisis #3 at this point and you desperately want to be remembered as something that you’re not… A Legend. Somebody that is occasionally spoken fondly of for your contributions to your… sport, I guess?”

“Good luck with that. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Your only mission objective is to find the beacon that the XWF is hiding.”

“If you lose every match for the next year and manage to find the beacon? Mission Accomplished. Gold Star. Passed with flying colors.”

“GOD DAMMIT. FUCK.”

Flynn smashes his fist into his knee… The swollen one. The one that Thad almost crushed between his legs and the steel ring post.

He inhales, taking in an immense pain that reverberates through his leg from thigh to calf…

...

“...Okay, fine. You want a post-game chat? I’ll humor you, Flynn. This ONE time.”

Through the phone, Flynn can hear the distinct click of Davenport’s spectacles case… Flynn knows from years of working with her, she just took off her glasses...

“Don’t you think the XWF is playing you, Flynn?”

“Fuck off, Davenport.”

“Look, if you want to get all conspiratorial, tin-foil hat, let’s fucking go. Let’s get all in, Flynn. Let’s get out our red yarn and start making connections.”

“...”

“If XWF was onto you and wanted to draw you back in… This is exactly what they’d do.”

“Let’s face it. If they gave you nothing to work with and kept you in the undercard, you’d get bored and just complete the mission to get this over with.”

“And if they showered you with gilded title belts and trophies like a returning emperor… You also wouldn’t give a fuck. You’d complete the mission and you’d never shut up about how you went home, kicked all the asses, then left forever again… Until you found a reason to come back a few years later because you’re an addict in ways that have nothing to do with morphine.”

“But you’re not ready for that talk.”

“The only way… and the BEST way... the XWF could get you to buy back in was the same shit they always do. The shit that kicks your inferiority complex into overdrive so you can’t see down from up.”

“They dangle the carrot in front of you. Then, they beat you with the stick.”

“And you hop back, chasing that carrot like a good little rabbit to prove that you deserve that carrot. Maybe you get a nibble. Then, another stick-beating.”

“And you pretend your rebellion, your battle against the system itself, proves them wrong because you eventually get to eat the whole carrot.”

“...Except it didn’t prove shit. Because you won it on an XWF television show, in front of a paying XWF audience, drinking out of their XWF souvenir cups and dropping chili from a chili dog down their XWF-brand shirt that has a picture of some guy’s face that isn’t yours.”

“Every time you get a nibble, they’re pocketing a net 30… carrots…? You get the metaphor.”

“You pretend that you know how to play the XWF, but the XWF knows how to play you.”

“To rub that button that kicks in your ‘Unacknowledged Genius’, ‘Woe is Me’ shit that makes you work harder and not smarter.”

“Because instead of hunting for the beacon right now, you’re throwing a fucking tantrum and breaking equipment because you didn’t pull down the brass ring.”

“Exactly how THEY want you to think.”

…

“Don’t go native on me, Flynn. I wanted you on this investigation because you can think critically.”

…

Flynn’s face is expressionless. Perfectly numb. He inhales deeply through his nostrils.

“Counter-point: Me thinking the XWF is playing me is a great mental state for you to keep me in for maximum mission productivity.”

“Oh, fuck off, Flynn. You know I’m playing on your insecurities. That doesn’t mean they aren’t.”

“...True.”

Suddenly, the phone buzzes in Flynn’s hand.

Flynn checks the screen of NK's Razr.

“Hmm, Unknown Number calling NK...”

“Hang on, I’m tapped in. Let me see if I can find the signal origin…”

“...Did you hack NK’s phone?”

“Eight years ago when he died time #1. Don’t talk, I’m working.”

…

Two rings…

Three rings…

“Flynn.”

“The call is coming from inside the arena.”

“Wow, how very 90s horror movie. Why do I care?”

Four rings…

“We’ve triangulated the signal. To the executive suite. The best seats at the Speedway.”

…

…...

Five rings…

“What are you waiting for?”

“For you to say something like… ‘Go get ‘em, Tiger’?”

“Answer the fucking phone or I’ll jam my fist up your half-a-dick.”

“Close enough.”

Six r-

*click*

Flynn doesn’t speak. He steadies his lungs so he doesn’t even breathe...

“Hello, Mr. Flynn.”

...

“I hope you didn’t think you’d... surprise me by taking possession of your… associate’s Razr.”

“If you didn’t think I’d be watching you and your... mission… very closely this Relentless weekend… Perhaps we don’t share the… mutual admiration I thought we might…”

Flynn exhales, but still opts not to speak.

“Not in a… loquacious mood, Mr. Flynn? How very… out-of-character for you.”

Flynn remains silent.

“Very well. I’d... allocated 8 minutes for this phone call but if you decide not to… monologue about your lot in life... Perhaps I can proceed to my next... appointment early.”

“You’re no doubt upset about the decision to not take your Ironman match with Thaddeus Duke to an overtime period… Unfortunately, arrangements with the Chicagoland Speedway demands we keep to a schedule… And as such… Thaddeus Duke retains the belt…”

“Except it wasn’t his to retain.”

“Ah… There you are, Flynn. What was that?”

“We were fighting for a new belt. It wasn’t Thaddeus’ and it wasn’t mine… So Corey just pinned a guy who isn’t champion cuz he didn’t beat me. I have as much claim to that title as Corey does…”

“...Is that your… position?”

“Fuck yeah. The announce team made the same call, I heard them from inside the ring.”

“...Are you sure? Maybe you should watch the… game tape, as you so frequently like to do…”

Flynn squints confused… He turns to the TV in the room…

Which, of course, he destroyed under a pile of overturned lockers…

Flynn sighs.

***

NK stands outside the locker room, listening at the door.

“Mark Flynn! I forgot to mention! Please don’t play my Snake game! I just set the top five high-scores so it reads ‘NK - IS - VER - Y C - OOL’...”

NK hammers on the door desperately with his fist.

“Mark Flynn, don’t break up my high score board! It took me 18 years to get it that way!”

Flynn pushes the door open, phone in his hand by his side.

“Mark Flynn! Did Agent Davenport talk you back into the right headspace?”

Flynn blows right past NK to look at the hallway TV showing the main event match, Alias vs Doc…

“Ah! In the mood to watch the rest of the night, eh? I’ve been peeking at it through the corner of my eye, Comrade Alias is faring well thus far!”

NK, through incredible finger dexterity, makes his right hand into an F and his left hand into a T.

“GO COMRADE ALIAS! TEAM #FUCKTHAD FOR LIFE!”

Flynn reaches up and punches the rewind button on the TV.

“Mark Flynn! I was watching that…”

Flynn rewinds back to the end of the Supercontinental Title match… Just before time expired… Just at the last pin…”

NK rolls his eyes.

“Mark Flynn, do you really want to watch your own match NOW?!?”

Flynn hits play.

Quote:

0:02 0:01 0:00

HHL: The bell has rung and Pip, for all intents and purposes, this match is over!

PIP: Flynn had to beat Thad, Thad didn’t have…

HHL: Exactly right Pip. So the title stays with Thad by default.!

PIP: Yeah but which one?

Flynn breaks into a cold sweat.

“What the fuck? They didn’t say that…”

Flynn rewinds the tape… He catches the reverse angle of the ring.

Pip’s and Heather’s lips perfectly match the words. So those lines weren’t dubbed in later…

“What the… Fuck…”

Flynn finally looks at NK, which actually startles NK… He had become accustomed in this short time to Flynn ignoring him and had given up on ever speaking to Flynn again.

“Mark Flynn! My old comrade!”

NK tries to give Flynn a friendly pat on the shoulder… It ends up coming off as very rehearsed and awkward.

Flynn brushes off NK’s hand.

“NK, did you hear what Pip and Heather said at the end of the match?”

“I can’t say I did, Mark Flynn. The band and I were already headed to ringside to celebrate your triumph. We had assumed the match took place under North Korean rules where each of the pinfalls of the Glorious Leader’s preferred combatant would count for quintuple points.”

NK shakes his fist, angrily.

“Damn yankees, when will they learn the rules!??!”

“Shit. Who else would have heard the live call?”

NK scratches his head.

“Live call?”

“Who else would have heard Pip and Heather call the last bit of the match?”

“Um…”

NK taps his finger to his chin thoughtfully.

“You. Thaddeus Duke, perhaps. And of course, Pip and Heather themselves.”

Before Flynn can reply, NK’s phone rings in his hand. Flynn is so tense, he almost drops the phone… Which… I don’t know if you know this, but they don’t make Otterbox cases for Razr’s anymore…

Flynn bobbles the phone in his hand terrified… Before he gets ahold of it. He clicks talk and presses it to his ear.

“Mr. Flynn.”

“What the f-”

“Perhaps now you’ve had a chance to review the footage and… reconsider your… recollection?”

“Fuck off.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Mr. Flynn. The… shareholders… are very ...intrigued by the potential revenue future Mark Flynn matches could bring…”

“And certain… variables and odds… ‘Unfortunate decisions’ like the one we were forced to make tonight… may begin to… sway in your favor.”

Flynn doesn’t reply.

NK leans into Flynn’s ear.

“Is it about my vehicle’s extended warranty? Whatever they’re offering, I’ll take it!”

Flynn waves off NK.

“It would… behoove your… career aspirations… to keep your head down, Mr. Flynn.”

“We, of course, do not expect you to work against your handler… Agent Marie Davenport... “

Flynn’s eyes twitches…

“We already have a number of XWF men inside your … investigation bureau… Regularly reporting on your... progress…”

“Please. Look for this... 'beacon'... all to your heart’s content…”

“We merely ask that you keep your ...investigation…”

“Away from Louisville, Kentucky…”

“Who the fuck are you?”

In the background… An alarm chirps.

“And that’s eight minutes. ‘Til next time, Flynn.”

*click*

***

Present Day Louisville, KY

“Ah… Most troubling, indeed, Mark Flynn…”

NK strokes his chin thoughtfully, having listened to Flynn’s tale and only zoning out like once or twice during it.

“Perhaps you are tempted to turn against your country and throw in with the XWF? Is the itch to obtain titles and accolades turning you against your bureaucratic masters, Mark Flynn?”

“No.”

Kato briefly peels his right hand off the steering wheel to tug at his commander’s sleeve.

“Perhaps Coach Flynn is concerned with how much XWF is privy to… And he fears if he continues down this road, it may put allies like Agent Davenport at risk?”

“Ah, Kato, you may have stumbled onto some secret TRYST... some covert courtship between Agent Davenport and Mark Flynn?”

“Ah, commander! Perhaps, there is more to their relationship than meets the eye.”

“Some unspoken attraction.”

“A mutually shared professional respect blossoms into... in flagrante delicto.”

“I ship it, as the youths say.”

NK turns back to the backseat to scan Flynn’s face for any microexpression that might surrender truth to this accusation.

Flynn, still expression-less, shakes his head. “No, not that.”

Flynn does take a moment to look up thoughtfully…

...

Then shakes his head again.

“No.”

NK exhales.

“Well, Mark Flynn, perhaps you’d be willing to share with us as your compatriots in arms… What has been troubling you the last five hours?”

Flynn takes his right hand and squeezes his temples with his thumb and index.

“That voice…”

“That voice?”

“The executive.”

“Ah, the mysterious Phone #1. He’s been a thorn in our side since my re-debut back at Leap of Faith. Doesn’t the mere sound of his speaking fill you with contempt?”

“No.”

“Disgust, then?”

“Déjà vu.”

NK’s eyebrow twitches, intrigued. As Flynn’s hand moves from his forehead to his chin, the limousine pulls into the guest parking area at the KFC Yum! Centre in Louisville, Kentucky...

“For the last five hours… I’ve been trying to remember…”

“Where I’ve heard that voice before…”

To Be Continued…