September 3rd, 2020

Ned placed his hand on the door handle, the curved metal rough against his palm. He had walked into this house countless times through the years, but on this day, just touching the door twisted his stomach. The images flashed through his head. His mother, bound by two twisted psychopaths for a message to be broadcast to millions. Once again, the people he loved, paraded before him just to taunt him. Innocent people hurt because they mattered to Ned. Nothing more.

His mind wandered, thinking of the scar across Ethan's cheek...

He turned the handle to the door, stepping within his parents' house, recalling how it had looked last time he had come around. The hardwood floor so clean it seemed to glow as the rays of sunlight fell across it. The coffee table rested in the center of the living room, reflecting the trinkets and books laid upon it. The pictures arranged upon the walls and mantle, each one ordered to document the Kaye family throughout the years. Ned recalled his favorite one, placed in the center of mantle, showing himself at just 12 years old, his father in good health, and his brother, Nate, looking happy for once sitting in the living room while an old episode of Massacre played, the blurry resemblance of KORE and Michael Graves in a tag match suspended in a single, lasting moment. The look on his mother's face as she took the picture was as clear in his mind as the day that snapshot was taken.

Ned looked at the room now, discarding the calming nostalgia that came with it to take in the reality of what Chaos and Ares had done to this place. To his parents' home.

To his home.

Glass cracked under his shoe as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The hardwood could barely be seen underneath the debris of the broken coffee table or overturned bookshelves smashed to pieces and what could be identified as the floor was scraped by the rubble. Ned stepped over what he could, gazing at the state of disrepair this place, sacred to him, had been plunged into. Windows, visible from the living room, busted out and covered hastily with cut garbage bags stared back at him. Every frame and picture had been torn from their places and thrown across the room or simply shoved onto the floor. And the walls to his sides were slashed and punctured at various points; additional wanton destruction to prove a point few cared about and even fewer knew.

Another sound beneath his foot interrupted Ned's thoughts. A crunch. Glass and wood bending to his weight. Ned lifted his heel, pulling it back and kneeling to inspect the source of this noise. The photograph of his family; the one that meant the world to him that was placed upon the center of the mantle. Laid upon the ground, almost torn as its frame split. Ned carefully shook the shards of glass off of it, picking the picture and frame up, placing it approximately where it had been on the mantle. The mantle itself was beaten, scarred with damage across its top, but, somehow, it hadn't been tipped over or collapsed due to the stress of its harm. It was still standing, regardless of it all.

Stepping into the kitchen, his eyes darted to the other man in the house. Sitting at the table, a tearstained face pointed back at Ned. His brother, Nate. Although they had issues in the past, even at their most antagonistic, Nate had never looked at him like this. With such... frustration and disappointment.

"Welcome back," Nate said flatly.

"I got here as soon as I could. Did you contact the police?"

"Yes, but you know how they treat these things when it comes to wrestling."

Ned looked down, aware that the authorities weren't likely to respond to it seriously. The guilt ate at his heart, pain forming in his chest.

"We could've afforded security for here."

"What?"

"With that new XWF contract. You know? The one you turned down."

Nate stared daggers through him, his anger palpable.

"You can lay off it now."

"No. I can't."

"Why? You think this is easy for me? Seeing our home like this over something as silly as a wrestling match? This place was pristine! It looked great and now-"

"Before you left. It looked great before you left."

The Notorious One stopped, his words held uneasily in his throat.

"You didn't see the dust collect. Or see Mom try to deal with you nearly dying in the middle of nowhere. Just ran off with your own problems and left us with ours."

"Oh. I'm sorry. You mean like you did?"

The Kayes went silent, thinking of the years Nate had spent practically exiled by choice from the rest of his family. Ned shook his head.

"I'm sorry. That was low."

"Look..."

Nate stood up, concern emerging past his anguished eyes.

"I don't regret coming back. Or reconciling with you and Dad. I love running the gym and helping out the locals, but I'm sick of seeing you doing this to yourself because... I don't know... you think you're not good enough. This family doesn't give a damn about that, Ned! Your friends don't. Nobody does but you. And that's your problem that you have to deal with, but this family can't last being jerked around anymore! Not by you, me, or some dipshit blondea You wanna be miserable the rest of your life? Fine, do it on your own from now on. You want to come back? Accept that maybe people want to see you here and happy, then we'll have you back. But no more of this in-between shit. I can't take that and Mom definitely can't now."

"Nate, I-"

His older brother cuts him off, beginning to walk towards the front door.

"Ned, I'll talk to you later. I can't... I can't do this right now."

Nate walks through the rubble to the door, hesitating to look back.

"Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

"Yeah."

Nate sighs, clutching the door handle tightly.

"Ned, you have to make a choice. I don't care what you choose; I'm not here to tell you how to live your life, but what you do and don't affects everyone. So, please make this one a good choice."

Nate finally walked out the door, leaving Ned alone in the destroyed house. As he stared at the front door, Ned took in a deep breath, holding back tears, and began to pick up the bits he could salvage, placing much of it on the mantle.

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Ned looks out over the balcony of his hotel room, reaching a hand out to feel the wind beneath his fingers. He closes his fist, as if trying to hold the gust in place, only to feel the absence of anything in his grasp.

"There's something quite sobering about returning to your home and seeing it in ruins. Even for the most wicked of us, homes are sacred, secure cornerstones to our lives that change and grow and get filled with memories and bruises alongside us. So, when you leave a home and try to find a new one or choose to become a vagabond, there is a comfort you abandon automatically. But even in leaving, I doubt any of us would want to return to see that place in shambles. To discover rot in the walls and nails sticking out from the floors. But worse still is when someone breaks in, violently cracking open an entrance, at the same moment they crack open that veneer of security. And for what? Money? Items? People? It's one of the worst things you can do to someone, but I don't think many people understand how it feels to have left that home right before it's been invaded. To know that maybe things could have been different if you were there, even if they wouldn't truly be, just the idea that they could've. That corrosive uncertainty."

The Notorious One exhales, his fist tightening around the rail on the thin barrier that seperated his balcony from a several dozen foot drop off.

"It's just been on my mind. For reasons you'd expect and some you may not."

"I could certainly stand here and fully express every ounce of rage brimming inside of me, something I'll certainly find myself indulging in to a degree, but it's incredibly redundant to express how disgusting abducting my mother was. Not because the nature of the act was heinous, which anyone will tell you it was, but rather because the motivation was to be as vile as possible. My mother is scared-"

His voice strains as the thought begins to solidify.

"-and helpless only to piss me off. Only to goad me. She didn't badmouth Chaos or get involved, no. She's important to me and that alone is enough to be a target for Chaotic Inc. And the greatest tragedy of all, the fact that turns this from anger to full blown rage is the fact that I know my situation is not rare. As if my failure to properly pay back The Engineer for hurting my friend signaled to every wannabe bastard looking for a better spot on the card that you could kneecap a bright career and give much needed relevance to your own. And I left, honoring my vow and hoping that this place would get some much needed cleanup. Hoping I wouldn't have to watch as my stomping grounds, the end goal for my journey in this business, walk back down a path I reviled while it happened. But all the hope in the world didn't stop a new influx of rancid behavior flowing in at a record pace, plunging us back into an era where the X in the XWF didn't stand for the temperament of its talent, but its perversely provocative programming. So, I stopped watching. For the first time in my life, I gave up even tuning into this place I loved. I couldn't bear to watch it to watch it burn like this. But I told myself it'd get better."

"And when I walked out there for my Queen's Court interview to a crowd of cheers and positivity, I kinda thought it had. Up until Chris Chaos decided to crash my special appearance and show me a photograph of my father's remains. That's when it hit me; hit me about as hard as Ares did with that box. It hadn't improved, the rot hadn't been pulled out, just ignored and allowed to spread. And the irony is not lost on me that I stood there and proclaimed myself still a member of APEX Prophecy, only for none of my stablemates to get involved during any of Chaotic Inc's beatdowns or confrontations with me. And now I sit here and I just have to ponder over it all. When I joined that group, I was told that we stood for the past, present, and future of this business- of this company! But James is elsewhere, Robert is helping our "beloved" champion stomp down new talent with a sharpened stiletto, while Cent, the one of us who hasn't faltered majorly faces defeat after defeat. And I have to ask myself if that proclamation that APEX Prophecy stood upon- if that mission statement was just words to them! Because it mattered TO ME!"

Ned shouts out at the city, shaking, as he turns towards the camera, his eyes plainly showing his reluctance to believe his friends didn't believe that ideal.

"It always will."

He inhales through his nose, pausing to cool off a bit.

"And of course I get to hear about the egos run rampant. A dozen prospects for locker room leaders, but not one protector. Even Ruby, the darling of the XWF and true hero according to Centurion fell to B.o.B. And while I think she has good intentions, the only thing she seems interested in protecting the wrestlers here from are underage drinking, illegal parking, and cavities. But where was the "true hero" of the XWF when my father's ashes where being dumped over me? Where was she when a fifty year old woman was tied to a chair by a psychopath and his glorified lackey? Did she send a card or a tweet or condolences? No. But I bet you she probably had plenty of time to sell some cereal. Hey, maybe my mom will get a complimentary box. I'm sure she'd appreciate that more."

He gives a fittingly sarcastic looking smile that quickly fades, a more melancholy expression returning to his face.

"I don't hold a grudge against my friends or Ruby or anybody trying to do some good. They don't owe me anything. But it's not like I'm some backstage primadonna. It's hard to find someone more universally liked by others in this business, honestly, and yet the person regarded as our brightest spot couldn't even extend the courtesy of a phone call to me. If she can't do anything for me, what does that mean for others? Reputation's great, but it's meaningless of you don't act accordingly. So, I find myself in this crusade, with just cause and few allies."

A small gust flows by, swaying Ned's hair in the wind, punctuating his pause.

"It was seeing the state of the XWF that solidified the damage to me. That made it real. Tangible. Just like my mom's house. It was easy to ignore when it wasn't staring me in the face, but the second I focused on it, I couldn't turn my back on it anymore. It's a sight that burns into your retinas once seen and cannot be undone. Change is needed, and they're a reason people tell you to be the change you wish to see."

"Now, Ares, after all that preamble, I bet you're at home wondering when I put the spotlight on you. When do you become the focus of my ire? When does Ares Creed become the focus? That's the problem, Ares."

"You aren't. You were never meant to be. And it's a shame because you do have potential- you do have talent that you proceeded to squander underneath the authority of Chris Chaos. You joined a group meant to elevate one man on the back of it's members and that's not a team, just sycophantic wetdream for a madman with a tight lead on you. So, you followed his orders, believing honestly that he had your interests in mind while you assisted in tormenting me and my family."

"And why do you do all of this, Ares? Because you and Chaos are "birds of a feather?" Seriously? Do you honestly believe that for an instant, Creed? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Chris Chaos is a one man flock and even with his highest levels of approval you are no more than splatter on a car windshield to him. Don't believe me? Ask Peter Gilmour. Ask Jenny. You're not in this match so Chris can help hotshot your stardom forward with a win over a crowd favorite, you're the first sacrificial lamb put in between Chaos and myself for his own amusement. But that doesn't absolve you of a damn thing. Everyone wants to talk about how honorable I am. Honorable Ned Kaye. Well, if you're interested in judgement- if you want an arbiter for the truth you're about to face, then I'm right here. And the fact is, Creed, that you are going to be the example for what happens to the rot that torments this company when I get through with you. I want B.o.B. to watch. I want Dyson to look at every goddamn second. And I want Chaotic Inc to see you afterwards, knowing they're the first dominoes and that you've just collapsed. Ares, I'm going to beat you. Not just win, but hurt you. I'm going to make you flinch every time you enter a wrestling ring from this point forward! I'm gonna make you think twice about attacking someone's mother, you son of a bitch! And I am going to show you that not only is there no future for you in Chaotic Inc, there's no future for Chaotic Inc. So, bring everything you've got, big man."

"You need it."

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Slumped in a cheap chair in his hotel room, Ned stared at his phone. His finger slid across, looking at pictures of his family until he found one of himself and his brother standing in front of The Notorious Gym. The project Ned started and Nate kept alive through his darkest moments. Taking a breath, he swiped the image away, fiddling with his phone before placing it to his ear, the dial tone's purr echoing through his head.

The tone continued.

Come on.

The tone continued.

Please.

A click.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Nate. Look, I've been thinking a lot about what you said earli-"

"Let me stop you right there, Ned."

Ned's speech halted, an uneasy sensation growing in his gut.

"I'm closing down the gym for the night right now. Would you like me to leave the door unlocked?"

He sighed, relieved his brother hadn't dismissed him outright.

"Yeah, that's... definitely something I was gonna ask about."

"It's no problem. Just try to get here kinda soon so we don't run the risk of anyone just waltzing in here. I know you know that, but still."

"Of course. You don't have to worry about it."

"I know. Oh, and Ned?"

"Yeah?"

"Welcome back."

Ned's phone chimed that the call had ended as he looked out of the window of his hotel room, the nighttime lights of his beloved hometown beginning to flicker on. He smiled, enjoying the short gaze as it lasted, turning towards the door and walking out to head into that concrete jungle he longed to return to. Heading to the city.

To home.

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"You can't run from yourself."