OOC: Doing some last minute formatting.

October 1st, 2020

“Where is he?”

Nate Kaye cracked his knuckles, slumped against one of the support beams in The Notorious Gym. His brother had founded the place, which, while a noble cause, certainly had its downsides when "The Notorious One" himself wasn't quite in the position to run it. Thankfully, when his job had cut him earlier in the year, Ned was the first to place a helping hand in front of his elder brother. And that was despite God knows how many infractions and hellraising between them in the past. But it was different now. And even if it wasn't, Nate would be homeless and starved before he gave up on his little brother. So, as he stood slouched against the beam with a fairly simple question to one of the newer employees of the gym, he found himself lacking a little patience when it came to learning about his brother's whereabouts.

“Well, he was talkin’ about something going on with his computer and overall seemed pretty annoye-”

Nate raised an open hand before pressing his fingers together to pantomime zipping something closed quickly. The employee, looking a little taken back by the gesture, silenced himself immediately.

“Look, I’m not Ned. I know he’s not one for that whole brevity thing, but it’s really up my alley. So, starting from the top, no distractions, overly elaborate details, abundant explanations, or otherwise, I ask you: Where is he?”

The employee gulped, his lips impulsively parting to explain and immediately shutting afterward. His eyes fell towards the floor as two words left his mouth.

“He left.”

“See? Wasn’t that easie- wait.”

With a chuckle, Nate shook his head, his fingers massaging his forehead.

“What do you mean he left?”

“He went to go get something to eat.”

“Like what?” Nate held his tongue, silencing a few planned curses.

“I don’t know. Besides, I wouldn’t want to talk your ear off.”

An annoyed smile covered Nate’s face as he pointed a finger at the new hire.

“That’s funny. You know what isn’t? The man who cuts our checks, who has dealt with continuous harassment and depressive thoughts, going out completely by himself and disappearing. If he’s going somewhere, it is best for all of us if we have a hint of his destination. Furthermore, if something happens to my little brother, you will be longing for the days that just had unpleasant chats like these. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Kaye, may I ask you a question?”

“Call me, Nate. Mr. Kaye was my father,” Nate sighs, lifting his weight from the barrier. “Go ahead.”

“Nate, for a guy who likes things short and sweet, why do you talk so much?”

“Ha ha ha. Go clean a toilet or something,” Nate waved him off, turning to the doorway as he heard a familiar bell chime. To his relief, it was his brother, Ned, carrying a couple of hot dogs.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

“I wish. Can you imagine if I had DT with me? Still gotta see if I can arrange some kind of… cat-custody.”

Ned started for his office, Nate quickly stepping in front of him.

“One second. Where were you?”

“Getting lunch and a walk. What’s the big deal?”

“Could you at least tell someone where you’re going next time? You’ve been through a lot, especially recently, and I get worried when you’re alone.”

“So, you were worried when you left me alone at Mom’s?”

Nate shot a glare at Ned, his displeasure at the mention visible.

“Don’t give me shit for caring about you, Ned. Besides, I wasn’t doing so hot either. Can you blame me?”

Ned inhaled deeply, shaking his head before holding a hot dog out.

“Here’s a mustard, relish only. That’s how you like ‘em, right?”

Nate gave a slight smile, taking the dog and snatching a quick bite. As he got a few chomps in, Ned headed into his office, Nate following shortly behind.

“So, what are you trying to get done today, anyway?”

“You’re gonna laugh if I tell you.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You will.”

“Hit me.”

Ned inhaled deeply as he rolled his eyes, a smirk manifesting on his face.

“I’m trying to get back into my Minecraft account.”

As he stood in his little brother’s office, Nate trembled slightly, trying to hold the amusement within.

“Go ahead.”

Nate burst out laughing, wiping a bit of moisture from his eyes.

“Geez, Ned, I didn’t think you’d go back to that game.”

“I know, I’ve just been training and working pretty hard and I wanted to try and relax a little. I just don’t remember my password and I can’t get into my email I had at the time.”

“Forgot that password, too?”

“Actually, no. I somehow guessed it, but they wanted me to fill out some verification questions.”

“Like?”

“Well, “what’s your wrestling name?” and stuff of that nature.”

“That’s easy. It’s always been “Notorious” Ned Kaye. I remember you used to play with Dad on the trampoline and shout out your moves and they were all just Centurion rip offs!”

The two Kayes laugh for a bit before smiling somberly.

“Good times…”

“Yeah, it was the other question that stumped me.”

“What was it?”

Ned gestured his hands embarrassedly, “It was just “Can I win?” and that’s it.”[/color][/font]

His brother gave him a bemused look.

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know! I was a little moron!”

“You could’ve asked me if you wanted to know that!”

The brothers chuckled together as Ned began typing on his laptop.

“Anyway, it’s looking like I have to get back into my other email. The one I used for Access.”

“Access?”

Nate stared at his brother, looking for a memory correlating to the term until it clicked in his head.

“Oh. Access.”

---

Ned sat backstage, a bottle of Rolling Rock cool against his palm. It had been a few months since the accident, but Ned tried not to think about it. Neil Acosta, the wonder of Access Wrestling, who had brought the indie back from near bankruptcy stood next to Kaye as he drank, congratulating him on the win, a hand on Ned’s shoulder.

“You did real good out there tonight, kid. We’re thinking you might actually be able to win that championship of that idiot with the crosses. Maybe then, I’ll stop getting so many letters from the local churches.”

Ned shrugged, “I’m just happy I’m finally bouncing back to where I was before… well, you know.”

Acosta frowned, patting Kaye on the back as they looked at the live camera. It was one of the few taped shows of the year and Ned was more miserable than ever.

“I’m real sorry about your loss, Ned. She was a real nice woman and everyone here thought the world of her.”

“Please… not right now. Just, get me another beer.”

“Kid, you’ve had a lot already toni-”

“Another beer, Neil.”

The stout owner put his hands to his side, but ultimately relented, reaching into a nearby ice chest and handing another bottle to his ideal top guy.

“No more after that.”

Ned gave a halfhearted thumbs up as the current champion of Access Wrestling made his entrance. It was his time to cut a promo on his new challenger. With a triumphant flash and some low budget music, The AnarChrist walked out to his lambs, a microphone close at hand. When he finally entered the ring, he was showered in both boos and cheers all the same. Despite his controversial mix, the man just had a way to get people to flock behind him.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my people!” AnarChrist smiled as the crowd gave him another mixed reaction.

“You know I was very surprised tonight! Ned Kaye of all people? He must be a very lucky man because God knows he didn’t get that win through skill.”

The boos got noticeably louder.

“You all like Ned? Well, that’s great to hear because poor Nedy boy’s been so sad lately. His little wifey to be died in a car accident. Shame really… Can you imagine killing yourself to get away from that waste of space?”

The audience turned silent in a moment. The bottle shattered in Ned’s hand. The next few moments were a blur, but Ned remembered his hands, covered with his blood and The AnarChrist’s. Ned had never been much of a striker, but you’d never be able to tell by looking at his “opponent’s” face. It wasn’t until morning that Ned heard that AnarChrist was in the ER and that “Notorious Ned Kaye” was out of a job.

---

“That was a rough time, Ned. I don’t think you should blame yourself too much for it.”

Ned turned to his brother, a slight anguish in his gaze.

“You know, that guy roughed up or at least verbally cut everyone in Access Wrestling. And he held that championship more than anybody else. And both the management and the fans never stopped cheering him on.”

“Your point?”

“I dunno. Just doesn’t sit well.”

Nate silently nodded, his thoughts discomforting him slightly as he realized he had to bring it up to Ned. He sighed, contemplating a tactful way of breaking the news.

“Well, buddy, I do have something pretty big I have to share.”

“Really? Did you meet somebody?”

“Oh, no, no. I was reading your revised contract and they snuck something in with a little help from… well, me.”

Ned twisted his body to look at his brother, a concerned look plastered on both of their faces.

“Under the new rules, you-uh… you have to see a psychiatrist.”

“...What?”

“Don’t worry, I chose one out for you-”

You did what?!”

---

---

---

“History is a fascinating subject. Of course, I don’t just mean the kind that gets included in textbooks, but our journeys. The autobiographies that are lived, yet unwritten. Anyone will tell you about how much you can determine about another from their past, but what people fail to consider far more often is a simple truth that your past doesn’t define you. Sadly, that fact matters little to many people, since it’s much easier to judge people like they are static beings, more likely to die than change. We deny a fundamental aspect of humanity to personify those around us in simple ways. Want an example? Look at the way people have and would speak about me before my official return. Countless statements about being washed up or incapable of being at a higher level of competition.”

“In the eyes of many, I am as Sarah Lacklan would, and has, put it: A jobber. Enhancement talent. An opening charity act whose self-pity will always outweigh his abilities. Why do you think Chris Chaos targeted me, both as a recruit and victim alike? Because I am vulnerable and my history implies a level of vulnerability he- and his cohorts- can exploit. And exploit my past you did. Both Hanari Carnes and Peter Gilmour, men with troubled paths behind them, jumped at the chance to hurt me and those I love as a fast route to separating themselves from their current string of career mediocrity.”

Ned crosses his arms, nearly sneering into the camera at the thought of his two opponents.

“Was it worth it? For your sake, I sure as hell hope it was.”

“You see, this match gives me an opportunity. A chance to meet with my history and simultaneously overcome it. And it comes to me in the form of an indie veteran who has walked a similar path to mine and on the same nails that come with it. And what did the exalted Sarah Lacklan say about another hardworking everyman who sacrificed wealth, health, and joy all the same? A jobber. Make no mistake, Charlie Nickles is not a perfect man, but he and I are cut from a similar fabric. We know what we left behind and we know what we are fighting for against the Hanaris and Peters of the business. But Carnes and Gilmour are quite similar themselves, aren’t they? Two individuals who joined the crusade of a madman, who kicked me while I was down, who have been handed to me on a silver platter. Certainly, Chaos was the mastermind, but you two were the muscle.”

“I never forgot how you two hurt me, even as you stand as uncertain allies after Peter Gilmour’s less than graceful departure from Chaotic Inc. I remember giving you two respect and always putting my best foot forward in our matches, wishing you to deliver your best performance. I want the following to be unambiguous: I expect your best, but there will be zero respect between us. Hanari, you are particularly disappointing because I always thought you were more than the role you tried to portay. I beat you in every match we had against one another and I never tried to dismiss you or talk shit behind closed doors. I showed you the respect of an athlete and you repaid me by helping out the same psychopath who still keeps my mother captive. And we all know Peter Gilmour is a narcissist who will ally with any slime he thinks may indulge his sick fantasies, but you’re not that.”

“And I as watched you two rejoice in the renewed interest you gained from every horrible thing you subjected me to, I realized something. That all of us, when we walk into that ring, are dying. I slip closer and closer to despair and defeat, Charlie’s sacrificed so much of his body for the trade, and you two have sold your morals for a taste to be like the Unknown Soldiers, and Engineers, and Lacklans of the world. And like with any chapter of history, we know it must eventually end.”

“And that’s my goal. I don’t want you two to die, but I want to thoroughly eliminate you in pages of history. I want you to be beaten and bruised and ultimately forgotten. Peter Gilmour has exploited every accomplishment he has ever made, has squandered every alliance, has broken every vow and will continue to as long as he knows that he can trade dignity for fame. Not this time, Peter. You’re not going to get a handshake from me or a thumbs up for your inevitable loss. No, I am going to redfine what pain means to you and I promise you it’ll hurt more than whatever woman you tactlessly hit on this week rejecting you ever will. I’m going to strip away whatever legitimacy you cling to and dream of resurrecting by beating men who piss more honor than you have in your whole body. Your glory will be dust in your hands and we are the winds of change you need to brace for.”

“Do you know how many truly volatile people I’ve had the displeasure of sharing locker rooms with in this business? Too many. To say they are as common as dirt is to understate the value of soil. But I learned a long time ago from those who I trusted that they were bound to prop up, but what I learned recently is the growing contingent of wrestlers and fans alike wanting these people out. So, while your past doesn’t define you two, it has brought you to an ultimatum. Do you want to continue picking on the bones of this industry or are you going to change? Defend those who go through your same struggles instead of stepping on them like rungs on a ladder?”

“But that change isn’t going to stop me from bringing your dysfunctional tag team hell on Wednesday. It’s not going to stop my fists and it won’t even make Nickles flinch. Everybody wondered what happens when you push me to my limit. But you didn’t see the years I put into this business before I was on a television screen. You didn’t see the days where I vomited in my own yard due to being as drunk as I could be. You didn’t see me rise from that or from a near fatal avalanche. You weren’t paying attention when I fought Ares Creed back despite him being physically stronger and faster. Men like you, Hanari, Peter… your world is made of limits. Excuses. Charlie and I? We’re limitless. The only thing separating us from us from our goals is time and Wednesday is fast approaching.”

“So, when we get into that ring, I want you both to look me in the eyes. I want you to see how weeks of “breaking” me ended up. I want you to realize what you’ve done and what you’ll never be able to do again. Because when you leave that ring every time you try to attack someone or use overwhelming force to overpower them in the short term, you’ll remember back to this point in your life and you’ll see my eyes staring back at you.”

“So rest up, because it’s gonna be a hard fucking Thursday for you.”

---

"You can't run from yourself."