OOC: Gonna format later tonight. Personal plans.

December 4th, 2019

It's a cold, dry morning in Brooklyn.

Standing aside a railing on the Brooklyn bridge is Ned Kaye. The man commonly referred to as "Notorious." Ned appears disheveled, sleepless even, his face looking more stoic than usual. He looks toward the dawning horizon for a degree of hope or comfort. He only looks for a moment, then frowns.

Placing his gloved hands into his leather jacket, The Notorious One ruminates on this exact location on the bridge, one he is well acquainted with. He closes his eyes and thinks back to when his fiancee, Lilian, was still alive. Focusing deeply, he can almost hear her warm chuckles. The playful smile she carried with her. The curls in her hair draping over her checks as the sun illuminated them both. He was almost back to the moment he had ended up proposing to her, embracing her deeply, feeling Lily's sobs of joy against his chest as he wept happily along.

Almost.

His eyes snap open, chills running down his exposed skin, teeth chattering slightly, the air in his lungs dense and icy. The bright, sunny day that had pushed him forward for so long was still just a memory and it's a cold, dry morning in Brooklyn.

Ned peers over the bridge, past the roads below, watching the waves with a premeditated carefulness he hadn't given them in a year or two. Before this XWF... thing. Before he had to be confronted with the idea that all that he strived to be were just the ramblings of a boy who hadn't understood what he got himself into and didn't know when to quit. Before he began to believe that. He could recall stumbling up on the bridge, more drunk than he would've admitted, and thinking about the plunge towards the water. Whether it would hurt or not. If there was a reason not to. He often struggled with the feeling, but had been able to push it off well enough, keep himself busy so to speak. It wasn't healthy, which Ned was absolutely aware of, but it's how his Dad suggested.

But his Dad wasn't there any more. Didn't feel like too many people were these days.

He thought back to the words Vincent Lane told him when Robert wanted to face him, Vincent's complete dismissal of Ned and any skills he felt he had. In Vincent's eyes, Ned just wasn't up to snuff. Not Championship material. And the thing that was tearing Ned up inside was his newfound agreeance with that assessment. Everything everyone had said about Ned to demoralize him felt true at this point. Every scolding from Sarah, every Noah Jackson joke, every Chris Chaos comment felt justified. It was just Ned's fault he hadn't just accepted it sooner. Staring into the waves, Kaye frowned. It was just like those kids who were throwing him into trash bins back in the day. They all thought the same thing, so there must've been truth to it. Besides, Ned had never really believed in himself, instead doing his best to convince himself such woth the support of those around him, but even that didn't do much since Lethal Lottery. Who can believe in someone who can't even believe in themselves?

...Is that why everyone was expecting him to turn to his darker instincts like Vita? Because he couldn't even find the same success as her normally, let alone with her return? Was this all some grand cosmic scheme to get him to betray everything that mattered to him? No... even if it was, it wouldn't have mattered. Ned was the kind to face the end with dignity, of course.

But it wasn't the end yet. And for some reason this upset Ned even more.

That said, nothing could stop him here. There was something freeing about the choice. About visualizing it in front of him. The open air surrounding his body, rushing past his ears. Maybe it would be like the high dive he had to train at for Leap of Faith. Ned smiled, remembering the moment he shared with his father and brother after the match had been won. That was four months ago and yet it felt worlds away now. Ned wondered if he would've been given the respect he deeply desired had he died that night.

As much as it unsettled him, he couldn't decide on an answer.

What made him think he stood a chance against anyone, let alone Lux? He could barely hold his own against midcard favorites and he, of all people, had thought himself capable of being Universal Champion? He realized that regardless of his ability to see the bigger picture, he was still just a punchline in the eyes of many in the XWF. Except for Daniel. For some reason, the man who had opposed him as team captain at War Games and had been a consistent rival for months was the only person outside of APEX to see Ned as anything more as an overrated secondary guy. D believed in him, which only intensified the personal disappointment in Ned, as if he pulled some ruse on his partner that made him seem more than he actually was. The only other people he could think of that cared about him were his stablemates and... Ethan.

He hadn't talked to Ethan since before the pay-per-view. Ethan was the type to get worried sick at a time like this. That's why he had tried to call Kaye the past couple of days, despite Ned's insistence on isolating himself. Nobody, not even Ned's most loyal followers, got to see Ned for who he truly was besides Ethan. He had been there at The Notorious One's lowest moments. Witnessed the peaks of Ned's character and had been there to comfort him through the valleys. There was a reason Ned considered Ethan his best friend; the kind of person you can be truly open and honest to. In a world full of discouragement, frustration, and hopelessness, Ethan helped Ned find direction.

...And Ned had been avoiding him these past few days.

A bitter wind flies past Ned, swaying his unkempt hair as it further cools the skin on his face. He had a slight numb feeling in his cheeks, but he couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the despair he had let himself sink to. Either way, it seemed his fault. He takes a deep breath and pulls out his phone, quickly dialing Ethan. After a few rings, a voice emerges from the other side.

"Hey, Ned. Are you okay..?"

Ethan's voice is tired and at its core uneasy.

"I'm... fine. Just wanted to check up."

"You took Sunday pretty poorly, man... have you been drinking, at all..?"

Before Ned can answer, he's interrupted.

"Look, if you have, I'm not mad. I'd just like you to come back to the gym. You need to prepare for that match against Sarah and Kenzi, right? It's gonna be easier to train here."

"I haven't been drinking, just walking."

Ned pauses.

"You were right."

"About what?"

"I needed to focus on the match at hand and... I just got too wrapped up in my own delusions."

"But you were right, Ned. Doesn't that count for something?"

The Notorious One kept silent.

"Is this because you don't think you can beat The 5'2" Mafia?"

"This is because I'm not good enough, Ethan. That's what everyone's said about me. I was just too stubborn to be honest about it. I want to be some top guy, but I'm not. I'm not anything."

"...Ned, you're upset and you're not thinking straight. You're a great athlete!"

"Then why doesn't anybody treat me like one, Ethan?!"

Ned's tone is fiercely angry and tears begin to well in his eyes.

"Nobody thinks I'm worth a damn! Nobody in the XWF staff asked me to reconsider my plans for my contract! You think APEX Prophecy got together and told me not to?! They don't want me here, Ethan! Even my closest friends in the Federation would face my retirement from this place with indifference. I try to be this big deal, but I'm not. I'm just some indie experiment that didn't pay off. I don't want to be that anymore."

Tears dripping from his eyes, Ned continues, looking out at the sea.

"I'm not like Tony Santos. I don't get to wake up in my own sweat, spit, and vomit and feel accomplished because of a strap I got to hold onto. I'm not like Ruby. I don't get to be unparalleled in my optimism. I'm not the hero, I'm not a savior. I can't even do anything for the ones I love. All I can really do is be a better Ned Kaye than the day before and it doesn't seem to change much at all."

Letting his head sag down towards his feet, Ned asks a question in a pained, near silent voice.

"Why does personal growth hold me back, but the lack thereof propels others forward?"

"Ned... please calm down. This is just the stress from the match combining with some old feelings. We can get you some help, you just need to come back to the gym. Please."

There a desperation in Ethan's voice that is unmistakable. An unspoken plea beneath his words.

"I believe in you... thousands of folks do."

Ned silently pondered where those thousands were currently before responding.

"Dewey doesn't."

As much as it pained his friend to admit, Ned seemed correct.

"Look, it doesn't matter what Dewey thinks. You can only focus on yourself, Ned."

Focusing on himself got him here.

"I don't know about that, Ethan."

"You're never going to beat Sarah Lacklan with that attitude."

"Who implied I ever would?"

The voice on the other end stopped speaking, nearly in shock at the other's words. In a thoughtless second, Ned drops his phone over the railing, seeing it twist helplessly downward, shattering on the road beneath. He had upset Ethan enough and he didn't find much need for the phone anymore. All that awaited him was Sarah Lacklan and her withdrawn lover, Kenzi. More embarrassment. More derision. It felt like one huge trap, weighing down on him. No gods to pray to for good tidings. No greater purpose in the universe. No "Ned's time" on the way. Just struggle, disappointment, and the chilly depths waiting.

In his mind he could almost picture himself, a flame in a blizzard, refusing to extinguish. Trapped by the paradox of wishing for an end and being unable to do anything but persist. But the cage had a tiny opening, just barely in his vision. Freedom was only a leap or two away. Peace.


...But that's what the Grey-Lacklans expected, wasn't it? Ned to pursue that which he hadn't yet earned. He took a deep breath and contemplated his predicament.

Was it worth it to go there on Saturday night beside a rival and to let him down in front of the world? Was it worth it to fight against an assessment it felt like the universe had determined to make him fit? Was there anything to be gained besides more ridicule?

With unsteady hands, Ned leaned over gently, peering over the railing, his hot breaths erratic and frenzied. Feeling the frost surround him, a single thought entered his head, one that shook Ned to his very core.

He had given Daniel his word.

-------------

"Depression?"

Ned sighs, leaning back in his chair, obviously uncomfortable to discuss the subject.

"Yeah...."

"I've dealt with it for a while. It kind of comes and goes, but it's there. It's a very tough thing to admit because of how much it can depower you mentally. And it doesn't just all lift away cleanly when you're happy, like some would think. It lurks and when it doesn't, it's a pain I wouldn't wish on anyone."

"What was your lowest moment?"

"I-uh.... I got very close to... taking my own life and I had to confront this sort of mental ultimatum: Live a potentially unfulfilling life that will only ever allow you to be miserable or die and stop feeling anything. And when you reach that point you have to decide for yourself if you can find something to be salvaged or appreciated from a totally painful existence."

-------------

His eyes gaze over the water, his steaming breath hovering in front of him, mesmerized by the rocking waves below.

-------------

"You have to decide which of these roads is the one worth taking."

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His hand clutches the metal railing tightly, fingers trembling against the steel.

-------------

"So, I kept on living, despite the risk of only suffering more."

-------------

But only for a moment. He lets go of the railing, stepping back to the center of the walkway.

-------------

"Well, how do you live like that? Without any hope, I mean?"

Kaye stares into space for a moment, contemplating an answer.

"You just do."

-------------

The bitter winds encompass Ned as he walks back down the path. The gusts cause his jacket to sway behind him as he holds his head down, bracing himself with a sneer as he feels the frosty air touch more of his skin. Somehow, he keeps walking forwards, every slow step leading back towards Brooklyn.

"You can't run from yourself."