What happened last week?

Luca, in yet another self-destructive binge, crossed paths with a mysterious woman by the name of Amy, whose seemingly rehearsed and calculated words and mannerisms simultaneously added to his pre-existing questioning of reality and excited him beyond reason. And he and his brother from another mother Austin Fernando spit that super hot fire all week before stomping the shit out of Alexis Riot and Justice Drake. #PressFtoPayRespects

---

He'd forgotten what it was like. Wrestling. Fame. The simultaneous sensations of scorching scorn and sycophantic adoration that struck his flesh every time he emerged from behind the curtains. He even caught himself making the rookie mistake of looking up at the lights; he didn't remember them being so bright. The wrestling part came back instantly, though. Like riding a bicycle.

Maybe the blame was on his opponents, or his ego, but the only thing on his mind during the match was questioning if he looked pale. Too soft. Too scrawny. Something, anything that the tabloids would report to make it sound like he was weak. Unfit.

Yet, despite his fears, and perhaps because of the preconceived notion that he just couldn't go anymore, Luca's hand was held up high Wednesday night. Not only that, but he got the pin.

Of course, he wasn't working alone.

As he sat in the La-Z-Boy recliner in Zane Kingsley III's living room, he pondered how he'd congratulate Austin for his part in their inevitable victory. He thought about sending one of those high-end escorts Austin's way, but that'd open up a whole can of worms. He didn't know Austin's type. Hell, he didn't even know if Austin was into shit like that.

Zane Kingsley III studied his client, his dark, beady eyes searing through Luca's skin and staring straight into his soul. The same shit-eating grin he always had was still affixed to his face as he settled into the plush leather sofa on the other side of the small room.

Kinglsey's place was small; a one bedroom apartment in Oakland, but somehow he managed to make the place feel like a home. Lavishly furnished, clean carpets, spotless kitchen; all things Luca hadn't seen in a long time.

"As your manager Luca, I have to advise against this."

Even when he was delivering bad news, Zane never lost the smile. Luca figured it was to put people at ease, though for him it did the exact opposite. Trustworthy people kept their emotions and their words consistent but Zane was something else entirely, it seemed.

Luca didn't trust him. His stare made Luca's skin crawl and behind Zane's eyes Luca saw something, indescribable. A contradiction. Nothing and yet everything hid just behind the eyes of Zane Kingsley III.

For a while, he questioned his perception. First Amy, whose eyes made no effort to mask the hollow emptiness inside and now Zane. He was losing it. Yet, the more he looked at Zane and saw the charming smile and the endless void of black space barely restrained by his corneas, the more he was certain of it.

There was something wrong with Kingsley.

He knew it. He was sure everyone who'd met the guy knew it.

"Don't you got some sixes to bully into sending tits?" Luca asked, rolling his eyes at Kingsley, who chuckled at the comment.

"Not until four. No, until then you're my only concern and I must reiterate wearing a costume that a fan--"

"Girlfriend."

"Really?"

"Well, we got a date tonight so I guess it's getting pretty serious."

"Point still stands. Wearing a costume that your girlfriend-- that sounds so weird to say in regards to you-- made you based on one conversation is a terrible idea."

"My whole career has been a series of terrible ideas and look where it's gotten me."

"People still making fun of your last name like that didn't get old three years ago."

Luca shrugged. "Fair enough."

"Do my ears deceive me? Is the great Luca Arzegotti conceding a point?" Zane chuckled.

"Yeah, well, I managed to piss off my last three managers to the point where they quit. And I kinda like this place."

"Well, if we are going to continue this relationship, I really should meet this Amy woman."

"She'll be here any minute."

Zane's eyes widened and he gripped the sofa's arm rest. "What? This place is filthy!"

"Cool your jets man, it's fine. She's seen my place and let me tell you it's a fuckin' pigsty over there."

Zane opened his mouth but a knock at the door cut him off. He pointed at the door and raised an eyebrow, to which Luca nodded. Another round of knocks, more impatient than the last, struck the door.

"She's a bit impatient."

"I can tell."

Zane forced the cordial, almost comically exaggerated smile that he used for introductions onto his face before answering the door. He studied the woman at the door, before offering her a hand and exchanging the customary greetings. Though as she brushed past the threshold he whispered in her ear.

"I see you. All of you."

"I take it you're ready."

"If I may interject, I'd like to come with you two. Really get to know the woman my client won't stop gushing about."

Amy laughed. "You've been gushing about me?"

"Well, by his standards."

Luca tried to pipe up. To protest. The words escaped him.

Fucking Kingsley, he thought. The bastard slithered his way into his personal life yet again.

---

Well, I'd lie and say I was unsure going into my big return match. Seven months out of action, reports that I've lost my fuckin' mind-- well more than usual-- but you know what happened? I came, I saw, I fucked shit up. Like Caesar but with more badassery and less getting stabbed like a bitch. Honestly, at this point, I don't understand why people doubt me. But they do. Every time I show up and stick my dick into their established plans they treat me like some fuckin' scrub and every time I make them regret it. So, here's a nifty idea newfags. Stop it. Just bend over and bite the pillows 'cuz I'm going in drier than an alcohol free county in the middle of the Sahara.

So, what do the suits give me this week after my inspirational performance last week? An old timer even by my standards. Cyren. Cyren, Cyren, Cyren. Remember that name? I'm sure he wants you to nod your head and say yes, to keep his own ego swollen to the proportions of some shitty furry artist's inflation fetish porn. Of course no one really remembers this fuccboi, despite all of his accomplishments and hell, even his placement on the XWF Top 50.

Wanna hear something funny, guys?

Despite all Cyren's patronizing about how these new guys wouldn't be able to hack it back in his day, I'm higher on the XWF Top 50 than him. So keep on talkin' that shit. Keep on going down that road Cyren. It's a fantastic argument. It's the most solid, factual line of reasoning I've ever seen in my life, you stupid fuccboi.

So, you know what? I will embrace that dunce-cap wholeheartedly. It's brought me much more acclaim than you. Much more notoriety and at the end of the day, isn't that what we're all after? Why we come back? We miss it and we don't, that's the thing. There's always something, or else guys like you and me, we'd just ride off into the sunset and let that be that.

But no. Here we both are.

Ready to fuck people up to prove to the next generation that they aren't as good as us.

Of course, I'm gonna keep on keeping on months from now, winning titles and causing chaos all over the place.

You? Shit, in a couple weeks I bet you'll go all the way back down to the grave someone dug you out of. Not in a blaze of glory. No, with a whimper. Like blowing out a candle.

One day you're here.

The next, poof.

Gone.

Without a trace.

And no one's gonna ask "hey where did Cyren go I was sincerely expecting him to actually back up his words". No one's gonna do that. Because no one believes in you, Cyren. And I know you're gonna claim you don't care, that you're only here for, as you said, an "objective reality under which I can exert a modicum of control", ain't that right?

Here's the kicker.

You can't even control the outcome of this match.

It's been out of your control the second my name was placed across from yours.

Since I decided to come back.

How the fuck do you think you can control anything else when you're the fish so far out of water that you're flopping on land, waiting for the lights to turn off entirely.

Because I can see it in your eyes, Cyren.

Your brain shut off a long time ago.

And it don't take the #MemeQueen to see it. It doesn't take a jester, a clown, anything else you'd want to call me to see it. It's plain as fucking day.

It's my life.

It's my comeback.

It's my world, and you should be pretty fuckin' grateful I'm giving you the chance to live in it, fuccboi. But your time's up. You're rotten meat. Expired milk. Curdling, rotting, the bacteria's eating you from the inside.

You're dead, and everyone else knows it, but you.

So just lie down and die in the gutter like the dog you are.

I'll even eulogize your ass.

It's the most exposure you'll get in this day and age.