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James Raven · (04-03-2019)

I sit quietly in the driver's seat, focused on the road as my rented sedan rockets through the night. My eyes are tired and my body aches, I’ve put myself through the ringer over the past couple of days. It started in Miami, the March Madness pay per view where Drew Archyle and I defended Apex’s tag team titles and continued the following night when I drove to Daytona Beach and fought a tank of a human being to represent XWF in an invitational tournament. Florida has been fun, but I’m ready to take my two wins and get the fuck out.

BETSY: … you okay?

I glance to the passenger seat where Betsy Granger has been sleeping for the past hour. Her eyes flutter as she tries to keep them open and locked on me, stretching her arms slightly from the ball she’s curled herself up into against the door.

RAVEN: Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.

BETSY: Anything you want to talk about?

RAVEN: I don’t know, maybe?

I hit the left flasher as I pass a minivan, swerving gently back to the right. I honestly don’t even know where to start. So much has changed in the past two weeks that I’m still overwhelmed. Not only did I make a return to the company that made me, but to find myself tag team champion again as Legends like Fuzz and Heather and Centurion come wandering back through the door has left me in a strange position. I have no idea what their intentions are, or how it may affect me. I’ve always been loyal to the idea of XWF Classic, but if someone like Fuzz tries to target the new era brotherhood of Apex I’ll have no choice but to end his career for good. Not to mention Centurion…

RAVEN: I think it’s the Prophecy match they booked for Warfare that’s messing with me. I mean, in theory I love it. Centurion and The Prophecy really helped put me on the map, and it’s one of my favorite groups of all time. What’s the expectation, though? From the XWF, the fans… from Andy? This sort of reunion could draw huge ratings, but can I trust the GM’s not to pull the same stunt next week and the week after just to inflate their numbers? I don’t know…

My voice trails off as I study the passing sign for the upcoming exits, mind mulling over the infinite possibilities of how this match could be exactly what I hope or unravel everything that I’ve been working towards.

RAVEN: I guess it’s really Andy I’m worried about. I owe him a lot, and if he’s hoping this is some full time rebirth of The Prophecy and something to help motivate himself into a full return, what do I say? Roxy and Mia are long gone, and he’s been in the shadows for the better part of a decade. I’ve done a lot in that time, I can’t just drop it all to keep chasing the past, can I? Besides, have you heard the way Centurion is talking about one of our opponents? Good fucking Christ, Betsy, I swear the guy’s lost it… he doesn’t seem as focused on winning this match as he is using the booking department as his own personal dating department… but… whatever…

I chuckle to myself, thinking of Centurions bizarre fascination with Job Ber Too. He couldn’t help but wax poetic about the bad ass streak she’s displayed in her career, hidden behind caramel skin and sultry eyes. Andy always had a thing for the minorities; usually Asians, though. I see the off ramp in the distance and begin to slide the car across lanes to the right.

RAVEN: I’m going to vomit if I hear him call her a sizzling fajita or some shit one more time. Don’t get me wrong, when I was 20 he was just uncool and hilarious. Now I’m pushing 30 and he’s turning into the creepy grandpa. Homeboy’s out here like “hey chimichanga, come on over here while I pull out these huevos rancheros… I’ll give you some Cortinovis con queso after we 1000 Mile Slam”. If he touches her inappropriately and we get disqualified for some #MeToo violation I’m going to be pissed. He needs to take this seriously once we’re in the ring. He better punch her in the fucking mouth, and not back down to her to try and catch some gratitude action. I’m not doing everything alone…

I slide onto the exit ramp and begin the long loop off of the highway and past a rest stop. Diesel trucks fill their tanks, overnight road trippers fuel up with fast food cheeseburgers and 64 ounce colas. The overhead lighting of the parking lot spills into the road and lights up the car as we pass by, but soon I find myself sitting in the darkness once more.

RAVEN: Ah, who am I kidding? Of course I will. I didn’t think the Prophecy flag would ever fly again, I’m not going to let the night be spoiled for us. I’ll fight Job Ber Too, Job Ber Tree, and anyone else I need to to pull out this victory. Single handedly and blindfolded if you make me, I’ll STILL find a way to win this match… I’ll remind everyone that The Prophecy is forever. Right, Betsy?

Silence. No answer from my passenger.

RAVEN: Right, Betsy?

Still nothing, so I turn to look at her for the first time in several minutes and see her once more passed out. Her mouth hangs open as her head tilts back, eyes fluttering gently with each breath. The moonlight reflects off her blonde hair creating a soft glow as she sleeps. Beautiful.

RAVEN: “Right James, you’re always right”. Thanks, doll-face.

I reach down and turn the radio on to distract myself, volume low so as not to wake her again. I keep driving. There’s a long road ahead.

FADE
TO
BLACK

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Long Road Ahead (ft. Betsy Granger)
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