OOC: Formatting this beast is going to be a pain so I am posting it a little early unformatted and finishing without the threat of DQ breathing down my neck.

Continued from: My Mortal Soul

“We’ve got a visitor.”

The wrestlers of DOD flocked around the guest, shocked to see a new face after all this time. They were an odd bunch of folks, but they all seemed unique and full of promise in their own right, even if it was being wasted a bit out here. A woman wearing overly elaborate leather was the first to approach Ned.

“Welcome to our little oasis in the desert. They refer to me as the Mistress of Mayhem. Do I recognize you from anywhere?”

“Maybe. I’m Ned Kaye. I’ve been around a lot in the indies and the-”

“XWF,” another woman spoke up. Her hair was a silvery blonde and she spoke with a shyer voice than he might expect from her.

“I’ve seen a few of your matches. Alexis Storm, nice to meet ya.”

“Same to you.”

The man with the mop and bucket vigorously shook Ned’s hand, smiling widely.

“They call me The Janitor. There’s not a mess I can’t clean up given enough time.”

Ned returned the shake, only to be met with two more by two ridiculous looking men with dollar signs all over their attire, one wearing torn, old clothes, the other in a suit that had no place being this close to the desert outside of Vegas.

“A warm welcome from myself, Millions and-”

“And Billions! We’d love to do some business with you if you get the time.”

“Sure, I’ll-uh, think about it!”

A large man walked up to Ned, towering over him before gesturing towards the ring.

“Name’s John Stone. Friends call me The Necromancer. You ready to go?”

“To… go? Like a match?”

Necromancer nodded once.

“I just got here!”

“That’s how we treat all newcomers, darling! We have a big old gauntlet and if you can last, you may face our champion and get a shot at our beautiful title!”

“Champion, who’s the-”

Ned was cut off by the arrival of the DOD Champion who held the title with a tight grip in his hands. His name was written on his attire: The Silence. He wore a pitch black mask with silver accents. He had a look to be reckoned with, but Ned didn’t feel too interested in facing him.

“You ready?”

“I don’t know about facing anybody for the belt, but…”

“You’re on!”

Ned rushed into the ring and prepared himself for the gauntlet.

---

The afterglow of Ned’s victories was short-lived, leaving him wincing and inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as he laid in the small room they had offered him in one of the spare trailers. Stretched out face first upon the bed, he did his best to keep his wits about him despite the agonizing feeling strung across his spine. It had been hardly noticeable with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but once that all wore off and he had calmed down, it all came hitting its hardest at once. This pain was near the worst he’d ever felt, the light tube’s remnants peppered across his back. Sure, he’d gotten hit with chairs and the occasional thumbtacks in his career, but this was something else. An entirely different beast Ned was determined to slay. Because if he could survive this, he was ready. It was his time. He focused on the match. On the man he had to humble. With an exasperated, quiet whisper, he uttered the name.

“Robbie Bourbon.”

That’s why he was here. Ned had to prove that BoB couldn’t just run roughshod while people suffered and were beaten. To remind everyone that the wrath of the gentle wasn’t something to be trifled with. That he belonged shoulder to shoulder with champions like he had always promised. His time. He always told about his time and how it would eventually come, but he was through waiting. Ned was going to make this bold new era happen now! An era where the Hart Title would be defended with honor and respect. A time he wished his father could be here to see. He’d make it happen! Ned went to stand!

Holding back a large cry of pain, he regretted the decision to attempt to get on his feet immediately, reaching to hold his back before remembering why he likely shouldn’t. Burying his face back in the blanket beneath him, he was taken off-gaurd by a knock on the door. Weighing his options, he eventually just called out to whoever was knocking.

“Come in. I’m not really in the position to get up right now.”

The door opened, Alexis Storm walking in with a medical bag at her side.

“Well, look at you, winner,” she teased.

“Yeah, yeah. What’s up?”

“I was gonna help patch you up a bit. You looked beat to shit after that gauntlet. ‘Sides, it’s kinda what I do normally.”

“That’s fine. Uh… thanks.”

“No problem,” she replied, stepping over to the bed and beginning to inspect his back. Her stunned silence didn’t grow much confidence in Ned.

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t wrestle deathmatches too often, do you?”

“Today was my first day.”

“Seriously? It certainly looked like you had at least some experience. Even when you were worn at the end, you still pulled off a pretty decisive victory. In a gauntlet, that’s rare. Only seen one other fella do it.”

“The Silence, right?”

“He’s good. Best wrestler I’ve ever seen. Says he’s faced people from companies big and small alike and always made his impact on ‘em.”

“I’d certainly like to face him, but I don’t know how good I feel about challenging for the DOD Championship when I know I won’t be sticking around for too long.”

“You should at least ask. He might stick to the persona a lot, but it means a lot to him. Every person here has been helped in some way by him. He helped pay some of the debts Cash Money owed. He got Jani out of some bad business back in his hometown. Hell, he helped me with my trauma and paid for a therapist. I didn’t go, but, hey, he paid. We owe a lot to that guy. I see a lot of you in him, honestly.”

Ned smiled slightly, immediately tensing up as he felt her hands on his back.

“Calm down. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I-I know. I’m just… tense.”

“I can tell. Could you try and relax? Maybe you could tell me about some of the stuff you did back when you were riding in the indies?”

“Honestly, I’d like to, but I only remember bits and pieces. And the bits I do remember aren’t particularly flattering.”

“Please, hun, flattering histories aren’t exactly a mainstay of Dee Oh Dee.”

With a small laugh, Ned went to the first memory on his mind. One that had been lingering for a few weeks.

“I used to wrestle in this place called Access. I was a highlight of the roster according to my peers, but it was during my worst stint with alcohol. Right after my fiance had died.”

“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“I appreciate it. Anyway, I had been hitting the bottle a lot before a title match I had with a fellow called AnarChrist.”

“AnarChrist? God, that’s cheesy!”

“And The Silence isn’t?”

“Touche. Continue.”

“Well, the guy’s real name was James Daggard. And one night he had to go out there and cut a promo on me. Well, he insulted my fiance and said generally awful stuff.”

“Jesus. What did you do?”

---

Seeing Jim through the thin window of the hospital door brought an uneasy sensation to Ned’s chest. He was hopeful it was just the booze, but that lie was short-lived even to his fogged mind. He looked at the back of his knuckles, seeing the smeared blood painted upon his hands. It was pungent and cold against his skin. Everything else in the hospital was clean, a sterile haven free from the kind of dirt and grime Ned could feel caked upon every inch of his being. He had tried to wipe away the sensation, but it refused to simply pass. It was a filth that seemed to have its roots in Ned, merely sinking deeper the more he tried to scrub himself down. No matter how hard he pressed the rags and towels against his hands, he felt the same. The blood wouldn’t leave his hands, only smear.

A voice broke his concentration.

“I think you’d oughta move.”

He turned to face the source, seeing the owner of the indie he’d been mainly working at these past few years.

“I doubt the first thing he’d want to see when he woke up would be you, kid.”

“Neil, I-”

“Don’t you fucking “Neil” me.”

Neil Acosta took out a cigarette and contemplated trying to give it a smoke, but decided against the hassle with the staff.

“Our biggest champion is out of commission because you couldn’t keep your goddamn wits about you. Do you realize how much that sets us back?”

“I know, please let me explain myself.”

Acosta shook his head dismissively.

“That ship has long sailed. What is this, Ned? The fourth time you’ve done something stupid while drinking? Or was it the fifth? Oh, wait, you didn’t almost kill somebody the last however many fucking times!”

“Did you hear what he was saying about Lilian?”

“Yeah, Ned, I heard it! And it was awful and we were gonna reprimand him after the show, but we can’t quite do that, now can we?”

Ned stayed quiet, swallowing a poorly thought rebuttal.

“Do you know how excited I was to get you in here, kid? I thought you were the future! I thought you were gonna be somebody! I was talking you up to all of the owners I knew! I got you work, Ned! That was my reputation, too, when you did something stupid! This is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry. I-... I can do better.”

“No. You can’t. I want you to succeed, kid, but you’re a liability. I don’t care where you go, but it ain’t gonna be here, kid.”

Shrugging disappointedly, Neil lit his cigarette and headed for an exit door.

“You wanted to be notorious? Congrats.”

---

“Jeez.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I can’t believe that you keep doing this after all that stuff. I can’t imagine trying to mourn and overcome addiction and still coming out to get the shit kicked out of me.”

Ned tried to shrug, wincing through the pain.

“It’s… it’s what I have to do. Part of me wants to settle down and try something more traditional, but every time that I do, I end up back here somehow. I love wrestling. Not the fame, limited as mine may be. Not the money or status. This is one of the only things I can really take pride in. That I can enjoy. I’ve performed in front of crowds of thousands and amongst no one else but my opponent and it still always invigorates me. I feel more focused in the ring. In a world where I constantly find myself uncertain or lost following a tragedy, wrestling is like home: I can always come back. I’ve put myself through hell and back just to do this. That’s why I came here. The wrestlers I’m around are celebrities, businessmen, or at least have a side gig. But at DOD… it’s as if I’m surrounded by people I can relate to on at least one level. Everyone here wrestles the most dangerous style in the business in front of their peers just to prove they’re the best. They’re not looking for personal benefit. It’s about the sport. Wrestling is my life and you all get that.”

Alexis chuckled a bit, still carefully removing the glass bits from Ned’s back.

“I don’t think you’re right, Neddy.”

“Hm?”

“I think most of us stay here because this is the only family we’ve ever known. You… you have somewhere else to go. We don’t. To be honest, I don’t know why anybody would bother wasting away out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere when they could be with the people they love.”

She shook her head, sighing.

“It kinda feels like you’re running from that, Neddy. We’d all kill to be in your position. And, if we were, you sure as hell wouldn’t find us in the desert.”

Ned tried to give a half-hearted laugh, but her response just made him feel more solace. Just further isolated in the grand scheme of the universe.

“But maybe there’s one guy here who’ll get you.”

His ears perked.

“Silence. That guy might keep his mouth shut most of the time, but when he does talk, he’s the most passionate guy you’ll ever hear! If anybody could help you, I think he could. I couldn’t tell you how many times one of us has been in a rough spot and a car ride with ol’ Silence hasn’t helped. You should really ask him!”

Ned’s face tightened as Storm released a particularly well-entrenched shard from his back.

“I think I will.”

---

---

---

The Light I’m Chasing

"Man of the People."

"It's a designation that carries a lot of weight. An honor that thousands of people have fought long and hard for. Some longer than others. In those respects, it’s much like the Hart title. And in the same way, despite all of those who have poured their ambition and life into the pursuit, it has been ruthlessly acquired by Robbie Bourbon, now going by Bobby just so he can associate with this brand for a few months before switching back. And if you think for even a passing second that Bourbon has even the smallest morsel of respect for either of them, then you didn’t watch the promo he cut on me. For some of you, that might have been a surprise, but for me? It’s deja vu.”

“I mean, for all of his posturing about me taking his title shot earlier this year, he seems to forget that he was in the Leap of Faith match where that very same briefcase was on the line. If he was such a big man, he could have put that effort and fought me then. But he didn’t. Robbie, don’t talk about what someone does or doesn’t deserve when you toss your boons away like they’re a bad habit. You want to underestimate me? Be my guest. I don’t need or want your approval. I’m not here to humor your inane claims about the content of my character. I’m here for your title. You can’t pay me to go away. Your friends in BoB don’t think you need help, but you desperately do. Because even if I walk out of there a challenger on another day, I plan on making it as painful as possible for you. I’ve long spoken about standing to be a fiery beacon of justice and there is no better time to prove how scorching I can get.”

“Here’s a tidbit, Robbie. I’m going to slap you across the face during our match. Once with my left hand. That’s for Ruby and everyone you and BoB ever hurt to further your own ends because none of you were strong enough to do it fairly. Then I’m going to slap you with my right hand. That’s for Barney and anyone else that you have sold an empty lie to, only for the hopes that you can profit off of their kind heartedness. Then I’m going to kick you right in your jaw. That’s for me, Robbie. So you don’t forget to take me seriously next time.”

“I’ve had to hear so many people bring up my past as a reason to discredit me. As if I wasn’t well aware enough of what happened. As if anything you say isn’t something I’ve already heard from in front of a mirror. I’m not worried about having the strength or willpower to beat you, Robbie, I’m in the tough position of channeling it. Of seeing if the blade is honed enough to cut through the hide of BoB’s dragon. Can I do it? That’s what everyone’s always wondered about me. If I can cut it at that level. If everything everyone saw in me was justified or not. I’ve spent countless nights looking at the ceiling pondering the same question. But you know what? I shouldn’t even ask it because you’ve been a champion Robbie and I’ve done something you haven’t: I’ve always put my best foot forward, even if my best wasn’t much. Even in my most infamous defeat, I dragged myself through a blizzard to make it there. You barely drag yourself out of bed to cut a promo. We are not alike, you and I. You talk about representing the people, but you do it from behind your cushy apartments and you’re constantly looking for another way to nickel and dime those who admire you. You’d sell their admiration for pennies on the dollar if you felt that would benefit you the most. But that’s not me. I might have my face on a bottle of shampoo, but it’s the product I use, even if I’m 99% certain they put something weird in there. It doesn’t matter because it works and if I’m going to have my face or name on something, I make sure it means something. Because I was never assured popularity. I was gifted it and I will never forget or forsake that generosity. And I would face you as many more times as I have to if that meant protecting my goodwill with the fans who made my entry into this company, my dream job, possible.”

“And when I do face you again, which I inevitably will after I’ve run through every last member of BoB and Chaotic Inc. and whatever other groups of opportunistic bastards looking to harm people for their own enjoyment arises in the meantime, I’ll have that belt and your Man of the People designation and you’ll have your muscles and a grudge. That’s what I’m going to leave you with, Bourbon. I’m not here to just beat you. I’m here to make an example of you. I want to show you how much those people you overlook when it doesn’t line your pockets matter. I’ll be the one to deliver that humility upon you. I want everyone to know that you could be my polar opposite, you could exemplify the traits that are hardest for me to overcome and I still will decimate you if I have to. So, at least lift a weight, Bourbon. Crack a joke at my expense. Pose next to a cardboard cutout of me and run your mouth. What I’m saying is have some fun with that belt while you still can. God knows you’ll need the memories.”

---

---

---

Ned sat in the car with The Silence, both staying relatively quiet.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re headed?”

For the first time, Silence actually spoke up.

“It’s a good place to meditate. It’ll clear your mind.”

Ned hesitated a moment. The voice had an odd ring to it. Before he could give it much thought, Silence added to his statement.

“How’d you like that tea I gave you, by the way?”

“It was fine, but definitely tasted medicinal, if you know what I mean.”

“Just one of its properties.”

Ned’s head had begun to feel increasingly odd as time had passed. He kept trying to shake the feeling off, but it was a creeping demon of sorts.

“What was in that… tea?”

“It’s time to get out, Ned.”

Without thinking about it too much, Ned stepped out of the vehicle. As soon as he was out, he realized something was very, very wrong with his state of mind. There was an aura to everything that Ned didn’t typically feel. It was all increasingly worrisome.

“Enjoy,” said Silence before he sped off into the night, leaving Ned out in the middle of nowhere. Alone.


The chilled nocturnal gusts rushed past Ned. Everything felt weightless and yet glued together to him. As he took each step, the mere act of holding himself up became more difficult, an awful pain building in his stomach. After a few steps, he fell to his knees, feeling the pressure in him reach a fiery zenith, ultimately retching out onto the dry, cracked sand beneath him. The haziness in his mind intensified, his thoughts both racing and colliding within his head. Ned did his best to focus as the desert floor warped and twisted underneath his hand, the gentle moonlight reflecting his face in his own vomit. It was a contorted, devilish visage that Ned tried to block out by closing his eyes, but it only made the face more clear. The exaggerated features a nightmarish distortion; its smile stretching well beyond what his face should allow. Gulping, Ned got up and kept looking forward. He tried to focus on one thing. A name. He could focus on a name.

“Robbie Bourbon.”

That’s why he came here. He wasn’t about to die in the middle of nowhere on his own. He was going to fight for the Hart Title and go home and win. He could do it, he just had to focus.

He wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours when he began to see a vision out of the corner of his eye. It was twisted and warped. As he focused on it more, he could see the silhouette of The Engineer, or so he thought. The more it warped, the more it resembled the vision in his dreams. The more it became himself. Eventually, it stopped just tagging along in the corner of his eye and began to visibly walk alongside him. Kaye tried to ignore it. Just chalk it up as hallucination. But it wouldn’t go away. No matter how hard he attempted to dissipate it with disbelief, the vision stayed close at his side. Eventually, it began to speak.

“He must’ve been very stupid to trifle with us. He doesn't know how bad you want to hurt him.”

Although Ned would never want to admit it, he had an urge to hurt Silence after drugging him and dropping him off in the middle of the desert. He tried to focus on something less grim, but the thought kept coming to mind.

“Do you think he knows how badly he’s fucked? Maybe he wants to test us.”

“There’s no us. You’re not real.”

“I’m not?”

The vision looked at the back of its hands indignantly.

“Well, that’d be a shame. After all this time, I thought I was real, but I suppose just because you said so, I’m not. Then again, you said you wouldn’t come back after losing your Uni shot, so what you say doesn’t hold much weight, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just telling you what we know. What you know. We’re both well aware that you’re just the act. The persona that’s hiding the real you. Or the real me, if you’d prefer.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh? How would you know?”

Ned hesitated, uncertain how to answer.

“Exactly.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to remember the way back.”

“No, you’re not. Even in this sorry state, you know the way back. You just want to know if you’re strong enough to do what’s necessary. You’re not, but the more you try, the closer I am to my big stage debut.”

“Are you supposed to be the Pagan God of Destruction or something?”

“Please, Ned, we don’t humor that garbage in this brain of ours. I’m something a little more… nefarious than that.”

“You’re just a hallucination. Nothing more.”

“Really? I always felt more like… I dunno, an avatar. Of you. The real you.”

“You’re just a voice in my head coming from a drug.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, but we both know I’m not. You’ve heard my voice before, Ned. On the mountain. You’ve seen me in your dreams. I’m up here, too, albeit, biding my time. But this is what you really are, Ned. I don’t have to compel you or tempt you. You’ll prove it all in due time. The same way you’ll “miraculously” find the camp. Because you do have one thing special about you: me. And all I have to do is wait.”

“Are you finished?”

Ned kept walking forward, trying to get the voice to stop.

“Finish? I haven’t even started.”

Ned turned to look at the doppelganger, only to see empty desert. With a heavy inhale, he trekked across the cold, bluish sand beneath his feet until morning.

When he arrived back at DOD, Ned saw the horrified faces of the wrestlers there, absolutely shocked at the state he was in. He fell to the ground, Alexis tending to him immediately.

“Jesus Christ. Thank God you’re alive. We were so worried when we heard you got lost.”

“I… I didn’t get lost, Alexis.”

“...What?”

“He left me out there.”

“No… he-”

“Alexis,” Ned spoke, “I want my DOD title shot.”

---

The Silence stood across from Ned. Ned stared daggers into the faceless mask that housed the man who just tried to leave him for dead. The Janitor gave the sign and the makeshift bell was rung.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me before I hurt you?”

The Silence lived up to his name.

Shaking his head, Ned locked up with the man, doing his best with his limited upper body strength to wrestle him to the ground, but only being shoved away for his efforts. Kaye could still feel the fatigue in his body and mind. The words of the twisted version of himself rang through his head.

“This is what you really are, Ned. You’re going to prove it and I won’t even have to lift a finger.”

No.

The hesitation Ned gave in action left him open for a superkick straight into his jaw, knocking him back although he was still on his feet. Not for long, however, as Silence whipped himself into the ropes and speared Ned to the outside of the ring. He was never going to get used to the impact of falling upon the desert floor. Thankfully, Ned was able to recover quickly enough to hit Silence with The Notorious Knee before picking him up by his mask and tossing him back into the ring. Ned searched underneath the ring, finding a folded chair and shrugged, taking it. As he dipped up to enter the ring again, Silence jumped up, using the top rope as leverage and slammed his heels into the chair Ned was holding in front of his face. As the chair collided with his cheek, Ned fell back, hearing the count begin to hit eight. Forcing some strength, he got up and pulled himself back into the ring, exhausted as he might be.

Silence lifted Ned up for a scoop and a slam, forcing Ned’s stinging back onto the mat and hitting an elbow drop right on Kaye’s neck! Silence went for the pin.

1


Ned kicked out, face pressed against the mat as he gasped for breath, hearing Silence slip out of the ring and start grabbing new equipment again. Knowing what his opponent was capable of, Ned lifted himself up just in time to get a handful of thumb tacks thrown at his face. He was able to cover his eyes in time, but when they opened, the sight was anything but pleasant. Silence had set up a table on the outside of the ring and was pouring lighter fluid on it. With a single match, it lit up. The flames chilled Ned, causing him to gulp nervously. Seeing a chance to grab a weapon of his own, Ned hopped out of the ring to grab a kendo stick and prepared for the Silence’s next approach.

As Silence rushed at Ned, Kaye dodged, maneuvering himself so his back would face the fiery table. With a deep breath, he prepared for Silence’s next approach. Silence saw through Ned’s little preparation and retreated to outside of the ring once more, bringing back with him a sledgehammer. He rushed Ned, swinging the hammer to catch Ned’s chest and instead tore Ned’s defending kendo stick in two. Silence lunged at Ned, jabbing the hammer into Ned’s chest. Ned fell backwards, seeing Silence stand above him, raising the hammer high above his own head. In a moment of pure instinct, Ned slipped through his legs, narrowly avoiding the sledgehammer that was now lodged firmly in the ring, having broken through the wood beneath the mat.

The wrestlers of DOD stood in a sorrowful shock, appalled by what they just saw from their champion. Certainly, deathmatches weren’t safe, but they didn’t try to murder each other. Let alone this guest. Ned looked back at Silence, a rage building within him.

That was twice. Two times he had tried to kill Ned. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kaye heard that twisted voice again.

“Make him regret failing twice.”

His body nearly moving on its own, each step calculated and effortless, Ned walked forth. Silence turned to face him, only to be met with a sight that caused even him to pause. Ned didn’t look like his passionate, fiery self. He was cold, determined, and focused only on The Silence. Ned superkicked Silence back before hitting a picture perfect hurricanrana on him. As Silence was down, Ned lifted up the sledgehammer and smashed the wooden handle over Silence’s own back. Kaye dropped himself back into the ropes, ignoring the pain, and hit the Notorious Knee right onto Silence’s mask, causing it to tear somewhat. The Silence was catapulted towards one of the turnbuckles. Ned easily lifted him up and hit him with a tornado DDT. As Silence did his best to retreat, he tripped over the hole he’d made in the ring when he tried to bludgeon Ned. Silence looked to ringside for an escape, but he only saw his own flaming table. He looked back and saw Ned standing right there, lifting him up and pushing him over the ropes, just barely holding onto Silence instead of letting him fall into the fire.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t let you burn.”

Silence looked at Ned and said nothing. But he did laugh. He laughed louder than everyone there had ever heard. Everyone… except for Ned Kaye.

He knew that laugh. Knew it all too well.

With Silence in his grasp, Ned ripped the mask off of his face to see his fears confirmed.

James Daggard. The AnarChrist.

“Jim…”

Daggard laughed repeatedly as his face was revealed.

“It’s good to see you, too, Ned. After all these years, you’ve still kept up the whole persona! The whole goody two shoes schtick! You’re never gonna fool me, fucker. I know what you are. What you really are!”

Ned looked over James’s face, seeing a scar on his right cheek, no doubt a result of Ned’s drunken, stupid wrath.

“You might trick them with that, but we both know you’re looking out for yourself! You just hurt people then run away when it’s inconvenient and you leave everybody else to fend for themselves! You just take and take and take, but you can’t hide from me! You can’t run from yourself!”

Ned looked down. All it took was one push to get him to shut up.

“Show them! SHOW THEM!”

Just one.

“Maybe when you kill me, I can fuck that bitch of yours in hell. Maybe she’d be interested.”

Ned dropped AnarChrist onto the mat, making sure he wouldn’t fall into the flames. Ned’s fists were clenched so tightly that his nails nearly cut into his palms.

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

Ned turned his back and walked out of the ring.

“You… you can’t do that!”

He walked towards Alexis as the countout began behind him.

“I’m gonna grab my things real quick. My car still where it was.”

She nodded, dodging eye contact with him.

“Thanks.”

“COME BACK HERE AND FIGHT ME COWARD!”

James screamed out, close to tears in the ring.

“You think you can keep this up forever, but you’re wrong, Ned! Soon you’ll know what this feels like! Soon you’ll get what you fucking deserve! Your time’s gonna come, you hear me!?”

Ned walked towards his car with his things, keeping his breath steady.

“Your time is gonna come, Ned Kaye!”

---

---

---

Lying, Cheating, Hurting
That’s All You Seem To Do

“We all face a lot of choices in our lives, but one of the most fundamental is whether to succumb to our worst selves. It’s easy to, certainly. Nobody respects the well-restrained because it’s an easy trait to come by. But it’s the right thing to do. It’s not always easy to know what your better self is or how you can even live up to that ideal, but it’s always worth trying. I believe that. And I don’t think Robbie Bourbon does.”

“Robbie is always looking for an excuse to be his worst self. He doesn’t care about how it reflects on him. He doesn’t care if someone sees his awful behavior and imitates it. It makes Bourbon feel good, so he does it. I could never be Robbie’s greatest rival because discipline has that spot under lock and key. But what I can be is his greatest comeuppance. That’s what I plan to be.”

“I have fought long in this industry to prove myself. To get people to understand that I mean it when I say I am the future. To mean it every time I say it. You’re not getting in the way of that. I’ve fought men and women worth twice your weight in gold and I didn’t give them my all to give you half and let you effortlessly retain. I am going to punish you for thinking there’s any kind of people out there that belong underneath your boot. Your sins have piled up far too high to ignore and judgement day is ever so close. And when I beat you. When I show you what I’m made of and that it’s stiffer stuff than you could ever dream to be, then you’ll understand. That’s why you know my name. That’s why I’m the Hart Champion. I’ve got nothing to run from. I’ve got everything to overcome. That’s when I am my most dangerous Robbie. Prepare to see what happens when the sun casts its light over the horizon. The same thing that happens when a megazord fights an avatar of evil. The very same thing that happens when you light a fire in the cold, cold night.”

“Everything gets a bit brighter.”

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SPECIAL THANKS TO -You for reading. -My cousin for helping me out with the chess match segments that I'll finish later. -And everyone who has ever given me tips on battling writer's block.

"You can't run from yourself."