Mark Flynn was being civil only a moment ago.

Some would even say surprisingly pleasant.

The conversation before this point in a moderately good humor despite Flynn’s declaration of interest in Mister Mystery cashing in his briefcase on Donathan.

Both men were too comfortable in their own guaranteed success to let inferior interfering plans upset them.

Flynn had even sported a smile when Donathan informed him, in a moment of confession, that he actually had no wrestling ability or training.

“Shouldn’t someone of your in-ring skills be on Madness where that seems to be acceptable?” Flynn teased.

And yet, recent developments had taken Flynn from his good mood, into a state of panic.

Both he and Donathan Alphonse Francoise De Sade sit in an extravagant dining room. A beautiful golden chandelier hanging overhead, tastefully Gothic. Mahogany table with just a hint of auburn in the wood. Two ends of a long table both set and yet Flynn naturally had selected the seat next to Donathan to discuss their match…

A seat he had now sprung out of.

A seat Donathan had invited him politely to retake, which he promptly ignored, refusing to take his eyes off the Gordian’s knot that he had been presented with.

The conundrum in question?

Darakshan Aher just brought in their dinner.

Darakhshan Aher Highest ranking▬most prized of all in his class of servants Miss Aher has been a significant part of Donathan's life since his return to the X-treme Wrestling Federation several weeks ago. Not only has she played the obvious role Steve Sayors and others have witnessed, but she's also played other very important roles only the select few have come to recognize. It is believed that anytime Donathan is present, she's also very near; often hiding in plain sight to serve a purpose none could unravel. Tonight she has but one objective▬prepare the delicious meal that Donathan and Mark Flynn will enjoy while keeping its contents a well guarded secret.

And quite a secret it was…

You see… Dinner implies food. Which subsequently implies solid material.

Yet…

Next to the glass of water Flynn had requested initially were five separate glasses of identical size and circumference.

Each housing a different colored liquid.

Donathan called it dinner.

And immediately the smile washed off Flynn’s face.

And now the three occupants of this room …

Donathan, smiling and waiting patiently…

Darakhshan standing at the corner of the table, waiting to either be dismissed slightly out of sight of for confirmation that dinner was acceptable…

And Mark Flynn… Flicking the left most glass… which was full of neon green liquid… Watching as it bubbled…

Was it bubbling… Or was that fizz… Is that…

Flynn inhales…

Peppermint… Is that almonds… If it’s almonds, it’s deadly… Unless it’s almond flavored…

“What is it?”

Darakshan, looking for an opportunity to make the situation less awkward immediately answers: “Delicious! Try it!”

Donathan politely laughs for a moment. Flynn doesn’t look up.

Donathan, without moving a facial muscle out of place, waves his hand. Darakshan nods and leaves. He turns back to his guest.

“Flynn, what’s in front of you i-“

“GIVE ME A SECOND!”

Flynn’s outburst brings Darakshan right back to the corner of the table. Like an apparition, in case Donathan had found need to toss out his luddite guest.

Donathan shook his head and shooed her away once again. Her heels clacked and stopped several paces away. If Flynn had bothered to take his eyes away from those glasses, he might have missed her seem to disappear into thin air.

He ran his finger against the edge of the glass. His eyes ran from one to the other to another. From Neon Green to Onyx to Puce… Note to self… The Puce one is definitely poisonous, Flynn considers... Or is that what he wants me to think…

Flynn tapped the fourth glass with his index… Or is this Crimson one poisonous… Perhaps Donathan figured that Flynn would pick one closest to his beverage of choice…

Flynn’s neck slowly turns as his head rests on the table… And then, there’s Viridian… At the end of the line… Sweet, trusting Viridian… Truly, that must be the most poisonous… How could Flynn ever bring himself to distrust Viridian… His favorite color..

Donathan must have known Flynn liked Viridian which is why he poisoned the Viridian one…

Unless Donathan knew that Flynn knew that Donathan knew he liked Viridian then Viridian wouldn’t be poisoned because Flynn would drink one of the other ones…

Unless Donathan knew that Flynn knew that Donathan knew that Flynn kne-

“They’re all poisoned. Even mine.” Donathan said with a smile as he took a sip of his corresponding Viridian glass. Flynn’s face turns up in surprise.

Donathan clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and sighs. [color=##00b2d0]“Just so you know.”[/color]

Flynn grits his teeth, angry. Not at Donathan but at how uncertain the situation is… The only thing he knows for certain.

“Trade glasses with me.”

Donathan for the first time raises an eyebrow. The viridian drink swirls in the glass as he waves his hand curiously.

“Flynn. As a guest in my home, I’d be delighted to fulfill your request. But, are you sure?”

Would Donathan ask if Flynn was sure if Donathan knew that Flynn knew that FUCK IT!

“GIVE ME THAT GLASS!”

Donathan sets the glass down and snaps his fingers.

At a far corner of the table, Darakshan presses a button… The table…

Begins to move…

Flynn’s side of the table slowly lifts into the air, the glasses not moving an inch, not even the drinks in them rippling.

Suddenly, Donathan’s side slips under it. And both sides have swapped.

Flynn’s mouth remains agape for a moment after viewing this technological marvel. He looks from Donathan to the table back to Donathan as if he’s a wizard.

Donathan shakes his head, scoffing. He knocks the table which has a loud metallic ring.

“The glasses have a magnetic base. The table is only mahogany in show. And our meals… Well, I don’t want to spoil the whole trick.” Donathan grins as he picks up what was previously Flynn’s Viridian drink and takes another refreshing sip.

Flynn grimaces a moment before smiling in victory. He picks up what was previously Donathan’s own Viridian drink, now just halfway full.

Flynn brings his glass up and gestures it at Donathan.

“To your health…” Flynn sneers before downing the drink.

Donathan nods, honestly touched. “You don’t have to worry about my health, Flynn. Over the years, I’ve made myself immune to every poison imaginable.”

Flynn immediately spews the Viridian drink onto the tile marble floor, exactly where Darakshan is standing with a mop and bucket.

Donathan laughs another moment as Flynn coughs what’s left of his drink.

Flynn remains bent over in his seat, still allowing a trail of saliva to leave his mouth… Then, he feels the lingering taste on his mouth.

“Hmm. Not bad.”

Then, he turns back to the table and takes a sip of the Crimson.

His eyebrows raise as the liquid swims across his tastebuds, an odd mixture of sweet and spicy filling his nose. He closes his eyes savoring the taste.

“That’s incredible. What is it?”

Donathan toasts Flynn back as he has a sip of his own Onyx.

“A rare collection of different blends; foods not easily found in most parts of the world and basically non-existent in the United States. A complete package and then some; energizing▬delicious▬enhancing. You won't find another in this world who can conjure up a dinner quite like dear Darakhshan can.”

Flynn has already moved onto the Neon Green one, nodding along with whatever Donathan had been saying. Then, he shakes his head, trying to regain focus.

“I came here to discuss business.”

Donathan’s smile… drips from his face. He nods, somber for just a moment, the match tomorrow looming ever closer. He then claps. Darakshan immediately begins slipping glasses off the table.

Flynn’s eyes go wide in terror and he starts pressing drinks down his gullet before she can take them.

Donathan and Darakshan both watch, half amazed, half appalled as Flynn ingests all five glasses… And then sets them on Darakshan’s tray himself.

“Thank you.”

Darakshan leaves with Flynn’s five empty glasses and Donathan’s glasses of assorted amounts.

“Now then…”

“Do you have a plan?”

Flynn glances surprised. He half-expected to have to fight for control over this meeting… Donathan inquiring him about his own conceptions…

Flynn grinned.

“Yes, I do.”

“First, we recognize that we’re dealing with a larger team, especially in Duke and Mystery… We start with Luca in the ring… This will lead them to counter with….”

***

...

...

I've tuned in to some of your trash talk, other team.

And it's varied from the outdated Michael James ironically claiming how awful I've gotten to Kinwraithi wisely deciding that the best way to look good in this match is to stay as far from me as possible.

It must be really frustrating.

Believe me, I know firsthand.

I have to ask myself the same question every day that the five of you must be pondering right now.

How the fuck is Mark Flynn so good at this?

He must not be human. He must be half-machine half-Grecian God to so flatly dismiss future XWF Champion Michael James so completely.

His every word gold spun from hay. His every thought an unending bounty of wonder, the likes of with can’t possibly be matched.

My response to such an assessment?

Yes. This is true.

None of you can possibly match me mentally in the ring.

To be fair though, none of you could match a wet mop mentally in that ring.

But, fortunately for me, I have a little temporary back-up so I don’t have to swing for the fences against you brain dead goons..

However, there is one weak link in the chain I’d like to momentarily address.

Sebastian Duke.

Old buddy.

Old chum.

Duke, do you want to know the difference between you and I? Besides eight inches of reach, ten inches of height and at least sixty IQ points in the opposite direction?

I’m not afraid of you.

On no level am I going into Gauntlet City saving up for a big one.

I’m not stockpiling material so I can unleash a flood gate this Sunday.

I’m not losing sleep over whether or not you’re going to bring out an A game.

But you are. You’re terrified that you don’t have it in you. And you know for a fact that I do.

I can hear it in your voice.

You’re petrified. The Angel of Darkness’ hands are shaking, his voice is cracking, the microhphone’s starting to feel slippery in his hands, he’s blinking, when this light get so hot, could someone turn down the lights, your throat’s going dry, you’re stuttering out ‘THE ANGEL OF D-D-D-DARKNESS IS C-C-COMING FOR YOU, FLYNN!’

Because your big problem? The monkey on your back that has to mean more to you than any of those kids who sit at Steve Sayors’ desk and claim you’re the new number one in the company?

You’ve never had a big win.

Sure, you’ve had your occasional triumphs. You were handed the X-Treme Title and even got to defend it twice before it slipped through your fingers.

But, you’re 0 for 2 against Angelus.

Your big debut against Unknown Soldier was basically a mugging. The only reason Joseph Page probably got the drop on you was that he was debating between demanding your lunch money and giving you a bloody wet willie.

What’s that? You complain that you haven’t lost a fair fight? You haven’t won too many fair fights either there, slugger.

Your number one contender’s match? Please. How fair could it be? I was officiating it. You were basically handed that shot by a desperate Wallace Witastick. Your opponents were two morons that think the name Crimson can still strike fear in the heart of XWF post-Dong and Benjamin Crane. The aforementioned wet mop could be Witastick’s number one contender.

Sure, you’ve had the occasional tag team successes against bigger names. Riding on the backs of your betters to the promised land.

But, you’re not going to have Peter Gilmour’s bleeding skull to fall back on this time, Dukey.

You’re not going to have an Ahmed Johnson to mumble sweet nothings into your ear.

It’s just you and me and a wrestling ring.

And kid, that’s the environment that I don’t lose in.

Let me run a few figures by you and see if it starts making sense why you don’t think you have a chance.

The last time I lost a one-on-one match? October 22, 2012. Five months ago today.

The amount of one-on-one matches I’ve lost in 2013? Zero.

The amount of one-on-one Pay-Per-View matches I’ve lost? Zero.

The chances of you walking out of Gauntlet City the United States Champion? Zero.

The fear you feel in your heart of hearts? That tingling in your innards when you’re a monster who’s found the thing in the dark that devours monsters whole?

Warranted.

This match?

Do you really think for even a second that you’re invincible, Duke?

We both know you’re not…

Sebastian Duke.

Welcome to the last time anybody ever mistakes you for a ‘Number 1 in the XWF.’

Welcome to the last moment anyone looks at you as anything other than ‘Another Joke Who Can’t Hang for a Minute with Mark Flynn’…

Sebastian Duke…

Welcome to The End…

***
“WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!”

Flynn is pummeling the air in his faux headlock as Donathan nods, following along. Flynn is out of his chair, miming along with his conception of the match, biting and chewing what appears to be a shoulder blade...

“Then, after Soldier is done doing what he does best… Tag in Flynn.”

Flynn swipes the air, switches places with his non-existent partner. And then strides confidently into the ring.

“From there… A knee into Duke’s back that we had previously targeted and struck with…” Flynn grins, “Tactics the official would fail to notice. And I believe that this match will very rapidly reach its… Logical Conclusion.”

Flynn guffaws at his own joke. Donathan politely laughs a moment, smiling and nodding.

Flynn returns to his seat.

“And that conclusion is a victory that ends with our entire team surviving. 5 to nil. Perfect, huh?” Flynn leans back in the chair, pleased with himself.

Donathan nods, still smiling.

“I don’t think it will work.”

Flynn’s face… contorts into anger… His hand comes to his chin and suddenly that feeling of comfort in his own skin is gone.

He fidgets from position to position as his eyes flash open and closed.

“How do you… what do you…What do yoWhat do you mean? What do you mean?”

Flynn speaks quickly and agitated.