Just when Corey had begun to consider that Neverland had exhausted its miracles, he was surprised anew. Before him stretched a verdant forest, but within the bark of the trees were whirling colors, a rainbow of hues that ebbed and flowed like the surface of a bubble or an oil slick. Corey stood beside once such tree, mesmerized by its patterns, before a hand on his shoulder brought him from his revelry.

You ready for this? Pan asked, again with that slight but mirthful grin that seemed to be a near permanent feature of his. He held up his crossbow, bringing the hand that had been on Corey’s shoulder underneath it for added stability. Corey’s own crossbow felt unwieldy in his hands. Even when Lux held sway, he couldn’t remember her using one, so he had no frame of reference for the weapon at all.

I guess so. If I don’t manage to shoot myself in the foot with this thing.

You’ll be fine. I’ve taught eight year olds to use one safely!

Corey winced. I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.

Pan jerked his head, mustering them onwards. Corey did his best to plant his feet softly on the ground so as to avoid alerting the small game they were hunting. Pan took the lead, naturally, having a better feel of these woods. Corey stayed alert, casting his gaze to and fro, seeking the slightest sign of movement.

They progressed this way, in silence, for a good half an hour. In that time, Pan had bagged a rabbit. Corey had only managed four wasted arrows. But Pan was a patient teacher, his ever present optimism even having Corey nearly convinced his expertise with the weapon was only a matter of time and practice. When they finally did take a break, sorting out a small clearing amidst the underbrush, Corey rested his back against a fallen log as Pan remained standing, still on the lookout.

Sorry about the wasted arrows.

Pan stopped scanning to focus on Corey. Really man, it’s no big deal. I know you’re a novice.

Corey shrugged. I hate not being good at something.

Ah. He winked. A perfectionist.

Yeah….you could say that. Corey placed the crossbow beside him. But have you ever felt like you can be TOO good at something?

Pan looked at him in a combination of confusion and bemusement. I don’t…think so?

Corey chuckled. Sounds pretty stupid, eh? But…I just….I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about my time in the XWF lately. About my accomplishments. About what I’ve yet to accomplish. Which is, admittedly, very little. And I’ve been feeling like maybe…he paused….it’s time to move on.

Pan finally settled, sitting cross legged in front of Corey. Like you’re done wrestling?

Yeah. Sort of.

But what about that Alias guy? Didn’t you want to face him?

Corey sighed, sitting back and stretching his legs out in front of him. I thought so. But then I started to wonder if living a life of violence is really what I want. Recent events have kind of shuffled the deck on me.

You mean Christian leaving. It was a statement, not a query.

Corey pointed at him, affirming his sentiment. Yeah. Yeah. Its made me reconsider some things. Life is fleeting. Happiness is fleeting. And all that. You know? But inwardly, Corey wondered how fleeting happiness had to be. His gaze settled on Pan. Really settled on him, making a home in the nooks and crannies of his features. Sanguine against the shape of his body, which was highlighted by the form fitting naturally woven clothing he was wearing. The vest, made of some sort of hempen material, was open, leaving much of his torso exposed. A torso which Corey had shamefully found himself admiring more than once, only to chase such thoughts with the counterpoint, It’s too soon. Sometimes Corey thought he could still smell Christian on his pillow, and he had only recently stopped waking up with his arm splayed across where Christian used to lay.

Pan bit his bottom lip, suddenly going shy and turning his head. Corey realized with a start that Pan had noticed him noticing. Not that Pan found the attention inappropriate. He had made his interest known in ways both subtle and unsubtle in the last couple weeks. A gentle smile. An inadvertent “bumping into”. Any excuse at all for their hands to meet with accident as pretense. Corey shelved these thoughts and continued.

Do I really want to spend much more of my formative years hurting and being hurt? And even if I do fight Alias and win, a tall order to be sure, what do I gain by being Universal Champion? Nothing but bitter memories. His thoughts strayed to the nightmare times when The Engineer controlled him, turning a Universal Championship reign into an excuse to exercise whatever bit of perverse sadism happened to cross his mind that day. Not that Corey thought he was in danger of following that same path, but he had to admit the history made the prospect of winning the Universal Champion seem bleak and hollow. It was too laden.

It sounds like you’ve already made a decision.

I…suppose. But why then did the decision itself still carry a sort of icky countenance with him?

“You suppose?” That sounds less than sure.

I….suppose. Corey again responds noncommittally, cracking a smirk. Ok. Fine. I have no idea what I want. I need someone to TELL me what I want. Pan, tell me what I want?

Pan’s eyes widened and he gestured to his own chest. Wha…? Me? Why me?! Why not ask Thad or one of your other friends?

I don’t want to put that shit on them.

Pan picked up a twig and lobbed it at Corey’s head. Oh, but you’ll put it on me all day, eh…. But then, he stopped short. His expression melted into something else altogether. Trepidation. Fear. Corey picked up on it immediately.

What’s wrong?

Corey…Pan spoke softly but authoritatively. I need you to be calm and listen to me very carefully.

Dude… Corey started to stammer out, before Pan raised a finger to quiet him.

Be very still. Very, very still. Pan whispered, eyes narrowed on something just over Corey’s shoulder.

Gulping down a painful mass of saliva, Corey did as he was instructed. Now, he could hear the faint rustling of something on top of the very log he was propped up against. Corey mouthed “what is it?” to Pan, but Pan wasn’t focused on him. It was then that Corey remembered he had something that could help him out. Crawling his hand towards his pocket, he slowly dipped his fingers in and withdrew his keys as carefully as he could. They gave a slight jingle and Corey winced. Pan mouthed back “What are you doing?” But Corey ignored it, intent on carrying out his plan. Affixed to his keys was a mirrored Disney Keychain, of the infamous “Mirror, Mirror on the wall” variety. With a barely perceptible turn of his wrist, he positioned the keychain so that he could peer just up and over his head. And what he saw….



….was ADORABLE!

Corey allowed himself a relieved gasp. Oh, you really had me! He said to Pan. Pan’s features sank even more but Corey had wheeled about too quickly for it to truly register with him. Kneeling, he was thus face to face with the diminutive furred creature.

Corey…no! Pan barked out.

But it’s so freakin’ CUTE! Oh my GOD! I love cute things! I’m definitely going to pick up this unidentified wild animal and cuddle the shit out of it!

COREY!

Corey reached for the creature and it startled, its rounded kitten-esque eyes going even wider with fear. Corey jerked his hand back. Oh, I’m sorry! Don’t be scared. I’m a nice human! But the creature continued backpedaling until it scampered behind the log.

Corey, we need to run!

Corey turned back towards Pan. Why? It’s just a little…

And that was when the log suddenly rose above his head, and a very different sight greeted him, holding it aloft.



Mother of God. Corey very suddenly felt the urge to urinate himself, but before he could sully himself, he felt Pan take hold of his forearm and pull him into a full on run.

Don’t look back! DON’T LOOK BACK! Pan cajoled. Behind them, Corey could hear the sound of the fallen tree being cast aside, causing a great commotion as it cracked against a live tree, ushering in a sound like thunder. Obediently, reverently, Corey did not look back, instead locking eyes forward on the back of Pan’s head as he pumped his legs with every fiber of his being. But, the forest was certainly no even keel, and Corey was consistently stymied by pebbles and underbrush beneath his feet, threatening to counter his balance and momentum every few steps. It was inevitable then that Corey would eventually fall. His crossbow clattered in front of him, and Corey could now hear the snuffling and grunting of something parting the woods behind them, bearing down on them. Pan again was Corey’s savior, except this time he simply picked Corey up against his chest, cradling him as though he was a small child. Corey gave a small sound of surprise as he did this, but allowed it to happen. As if he had a panoply of alternate choices.

From there, Corey did all he could to avoid his eyes lingering on the charging beast. He caught glimpses of Pan’s footwork on the forest floor. It was utterly flawless, as though each of his strides were something destined to be, or like some protective force was at work, keeping the natural terrain at bay so Pan could proceed unimpeded. Either way, it was damned impressive.

But, for all his friend’s fancy footwork, the beast was surely gaining. Finally, Pan stopped at a large tree and hoisted Corey up the trunk. CLIMB! Corey did as he was ordered, reaching for the lowest hanging brand and beginning a frenetic assent. Pan followed just behind, and then, the entire tree shook as the beast, beholden to his own prolific momentum, slammed into the tree with a withering smack. At first, Corey feared the blow would be enough to cause the tree to break and fall over. But it was steadfast. Pan climbed faster than Corey too, signaling further up the top to a wide branch that was their destination. Corey was able to follow, his climbing skills buoyed by his terror. In a short time, they were both seated on the branch, white knuckled. And for the first time, Corey chanced another glance at the beast. It roared as it attempted to mount the tree, thick claws peeling back the multicolored bark like the spent rind of an orange. But the creature didn’t seem to be making any headway.

Nuk-nuks can’t climb! Pan noted, his gaze also affixed on the beast. At least, not well.

Why didn’t you tell me Neverland had Gremlins?! Pan looked at him quizzically. You know, cute little things that turn into terrible nightmare beings?! Don’t feed them after midnight?! The beast howls and Corey lets out a terrified little squeak in reply. What do we do?

Pan looked down at the threat and then back at Corey. We wait.

For how long?

For it to fall asleep. Thankfully, Nuk-nuks are notorious narcoleptics after they get bigger. He pats Corey on the shoulder. I won’t let you die before your big retirement.

Well, retirement is a big word. I didn’t say retirement…. And then, the tree shudders in response to a blow from the Nuk-nuk. Corey almost falls off the branch ass over tea kettle before Pan makes the save.

So if not retirement…then what?

I uhhh….I….maybe we should just focus on the flesh rending threat at hand, ‘kay?

Pan points down. Look, it’s already starting to fade!

Indeed, the beast was now down on his haunches, bloodshot eyes fluttering with the intimations of sleep. Pan and Corey draw down their conversation, both intent on watching the creature as his attention ebbed, and after roughly ten minutes, slipped into unconsciousness.

Are we good?

I think so. He extends a hand towards Corey. Come on.

Corey grimaces as he checks on the creature before following Pan down. Once upon terra firma, they both take a wide berth around the sleeping predator. Silence is the name of the game. Until Corey steps on a twig.

Oh no….

One of the creatures' eyes iris open.

We need to run again. We need to run again now! Pan scoops Corey up once more as the beast rouses from its all too brief slumber. And once more, Pan’s footfalls echo an almost painterly poise as he races through the forest.

I’m feeling some serious deja vu here. This time, despite prior admonitions, Corey does look back to see how close the creature is. Suffice it to say, it’s not good. Pan….PAN!

Corey, be ready to jump!

Jump….jump where?!

JUMP NOW!

And before he knows it, both he and Pan are tumbling off a cliff face. Corey’s vision is a swirling kaleidoscope of water and sky, water and sky, water and sky, before water is selected with a magnificent splashdown.

A short time later…

Corey awoke to find himself sputtering sea water up into Pan’s mouth. Pan’s lips broke the seal with Corey’s and he fell back on his haunches, coughing and spitting. With a groan, Corey rolled onto his side, expelling the rest of the water. When he was adequately composed he said, Oh man, I’m so sorry, dude.

Pan, running a forearm across his lips, coughed and replied It’s okay. You had me worried there for a moment. And then, after a few seconds of deliberation, I guess that was how our first kiss went. Neat.

Corey opened his eyes against the onslaught of sunlight and allowed himself to acclimate. All the same, he couldn’t help but catch Pan’s words. Our first kiss? So there will be more?

Pan went quiet, suddenly finding something very intriguing about the sand on his knees. I shouldn’t have….

Corey sat up. No, it’s alright. You didn’t….

I wasn’t thinking…

I’m not mad or anything…

But I really shouldn’t have…

Their equal opportunity jaw jacking draws down to a quiet halt. But then, Corey breaks it. I’m really not mad.

But I shouldn’t be forcing it on you so soon after Christian.

Corey sighed. I’m not saying “never” okay? I do like you. But at this point I don’t even know what I want to do with my career much less what I want to do relationship wise. You know?

I know.

You have a… Corey reached over to pluck a piece of errant seaweed that had been hanging from one of Pan’s pointed ears.

Thanks. A pause. I know of something that might help you make your decision. But, it’s kind of a big deal.

What do you mean?

We could talk to the GreatMother, she can cast an augury on you. It’s a spell that shows you your future.

Interest piqued, Corey’s eyebrows shot up. Wait, seriously?

But it’s not a choice you should make lightly. And besides, it’s only one of many possible futures. Heck, actions you take in response to what you see could change things entirely.

But I would see what’s coming for me now?

Yeah. Basically.

Wow. Corey marveled. I mean…yeah. Yeah, that's a big decision though. Do I really want to see that?

I can’t answer that question for you.

Corey’s mind roiled inwardly. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen a vision of a future state. Unfortunately, up until this point, they had largely been bad. Apocalyptically bad. And Corey couldn’t be sure that his and Lux’s actions up until this point had been successful in changing things. He certainly hoped they did. But…

I’m gonna have to think about it.

That’s a good idea.

Corey looked towards the horizon, mind still buzzing with possibility. What if…?

WORDS

Okay, first off, I’ll admit it. John Black is cooler than me.

What? It’s the truth! If my 21 Jump Street excursion with Thad and Flynn showed me anything, it’s that I have some serious unhip white boy vibes. But I’m working on it!

John Black…John Black. The self styled outsider. The Thug. The guy with the bitchin’ mask. Yeah, all that’s pretty baller.

But!

If there’s one thing I know about outsiders, especially outsiders that like to trumpet how much they are outsiders, it’s this: they kinda wanna be insiders. And John Black is no exception to the rule. My man, you got some serious “he doth protest too much” energy going on. You’ve spent your entire career talking about how you and your thug brethren are constantly on the outside looking in. But the more you belabor that point, the more I kinda think you’re not being completely honest with yourself.

And let’s be real here. You couldn’t probably use a bit of that “on the inside action”. I mean, you’ve been in the XWF for what…ten years? More?! And yet, nary a championship reign to be found. I know, I was flabbergasted! I had to triple check that shit but yeah, John Black has never won a championship in the XWF. EVER!

Corey whistles.

Ten years. Nothin’ to show for it. Holy hell. John, what the fuck are you DOING, man? I mean, are you that dedicated to being on the outside that you’ve pledged yourself to being an abject failure? And look, even your buddies have some title reigns under their belts. Reggie and Tommy both have been Xtreme champions. What’s your excuse? I guess you’re even more outside than they are. Outside, down the street, around the corner and deep in the thick of Failtown, USA.

How could you go ten years without even winning a title by ACCIDENT? Even Drezdin, god rest his soul, was a tag team champ for a couple weeks. You're gonna tell me that Drezdin’s got some game you don’t? Sheeeeeeeeit.



Now John, believe or not, I’m not just here to tear you down. No! I’m here to, well, invite you inside. I know you probably don’t think so, but winning a championship is pretty cool. And honestly, if Tommy Wish can do it, I think you can do it too. But you gotta stop with this bullshit outsider excuse. You’re pumping your own breaks man and you’re using this facade of being too cool for school to cover for your lack of ambition and success. How about we stop that John? How about you actually, honest to God, TRY?!

What do you have to be afraid of? Losing that outsider cred by winning something for once? Really? And if that’s what you're so concerned about, why are you even HERE? You could go be an unsuccessful outsider anywhere. You could be the world’s worst cart boy and wax on about how you’re too cool for Aldi’s. But why come to a wrestling promotion just to make a point of not succeeding?

It makes zero sense, John. And from the looks of it, you’ve been making zero sense for ten years. Ten very long, very tedious, years.

And when I beat you, I’m not even going to feel good about it. You’re not gonna try. I know you won’t. You’ve probably already written this off as David eating Goliath. Except somehow my twinky self is the big man in this scenario. Go figure.

Vinnie, Theo, why did you even book this match? You know John doesn’t even care about going over. You know I’m gonna roll him. You could have booked me against Peter Vaughn and had a mini main event quality match before he gets splattered all over the canvas on paid television. Eh, I’m just kidding. I know you guys wanted him to come off like he at least has a chance, and catching an “L” from yours truly wouldn’t have accomplished that, eh?

So hey John, I’ll make you an offer. To even your odds, I’ll even let you bring Tommy Wish to the ring. I’ve always wanted to slap that toe sniffing epitome of cringe around. And a handicap situation is, quite frankly, the only way you’re getting this done anyway. You know that, I know that, Tommy knows that, even Reggie knows that back at the crib. Yo. Chortles. Yeah, what?! I already said I wasn't cool!

I guess my final question for you John is what comes after this loss? I mean, you COULD use it to ignite the fire that’s been missing all these years. Finally do away with that weaksauce outsider shtick and care about your job. Or you can cling to those shadows, where it’s nice and safe and you don’t have to put anything on the line by trying out in the light. Your call, man.

Your call.