“Why have you come here?” The Custodian spoke, his slight smirk barely illuminated by the sole source of light dangling above the two. Ned stared at him, his expression unchanging from a stoic disgust.

Dr. Dante Cormack was the true name of the man- no, the unfeeling entity in front of him. He seemed well-suited with this kind of captivity, maintaining an aura of authority and control despite his situation being obviously disadvantageous. That was the scope of this man, of the mind behind The Chameleon project. Even with a brave face, the casual condescension in The Custodian sent chills down Ned's spine. Every nerve in his body told him to run far away from this man. He was already locked away and out of his life. But he thought of Darcy. She stood up to this guy on more than one occasion for Ned's sake, he could sure as hell do it for his own.

“I'm here for closure. I've been holding onto a lot and it's time to cut out the things that I don't need. I need the people around me. The people who care about me. But you? I never needed you, Dante.”

The Custodian shrugged slightly, peering through Ned's words with an inhuman expertise.

“Certainly, you could have come to that conclusion without speaking a word to my face, TC-01. And yet, you've found yourself here. You need something from me.”

“You're right,” Ned conceded, switching his gaze to the table, the presence of Dr. Cormack already beginning to overwhelm him, “I need answers. I need to know why.”

“I believe I have already fully stated the particulars of my desires for The Chameleon project. How emotionally and mentally weak we allow others to be, when one's strengths and weaknesses could be easily slipped into and out of. How no one human should need be trapped by something so nebulous as the self.”

Almost fiercely, Ned looked up, annoyance plain on his face.

“You know damn well that's not what I mean.”

“Then elucidate me,” The Custodian responded with a knowing grin.

“A few months ago, someone put Darcy and I into the old simulation chamber. We managed to get out, but I realized very quickly that it wasn't about locking us in there to cause brain damage... it was to get me back on the drug, so to speak. I know how addictive and real those simulations felt... how comfortable they were. I also know that you were absolutely behind that. I want to know why.”

The Custodian softly chuckled for a deliberate moment prior to shifting back in his seat.

“Certainly, you do not think me all powerful. You're not foolish, TC-01. Somewhere in that brain of yours, you must realize that I haven't a chance of influencing you to come here, nor operating any of the equipment that The Facility utilized.”

“Stop calling me TC-01. I am not your experiment. Not anymore.”

“And yet you came back without me lifting a finger to bring you here.”

Ned stayed silent, finding it hard to formulate what he wanted to say to the bastard in front of him.

“I am able to plainly read you, TC-01. It's quite simple to recognize that desire in you to break off the chains that tie you to this singular identity. You know what you are, truly. Despite every utterance from your jaw being otherwise, you long for the ability to step out of your skin and into another suit once more. I can hardly blame you. This form does not suit you, TC-01. It never did.”

In a single motion, Ned stood up and slapped The Custodian clear across the face, leaving a read mark on his cheek. The door opened suddenly behind Ned as a guard shouted out at him.

“Step away from the prisoner! Do not move!”

Stretching his jaw somewhat, The Custodian called out, “It was really nothing. I would prefer my acquaintance stay for a moment longer. They won't do anything of the sort again. Is that not right?”

“I won't,” Ned said quietly, sitting down. Sighing, the guard left once more, keeping a closer eye on things. Once he had left, Kaye spoke once more.

“You're right. I do want to slip back into a facade and wear it for as long as possible, but it isn't any of the ones you prepared for me. When I was younger, I formulated an idea of what the perfect me was and I dubbed it-”

“The Notorious One, correct?”

“Right. But here's the thing, I can't be that. I can't be some superhuman, perfect version of me is. I can only be me and that's why I'm here. That, and to confirm one thing. One thing you told me without mentioning it at all.”

“And what precisely is that?”

Ned smirked as he leaned over slightly, “You have a partner on the outside. And I'm going to stop whoever the hell that is and when that's done, I won't have to worry about you and your garbage anymore. I have real things to care about other than your make-believe little worlds, Dante. So, there isn't going to be a next time we meet. I'm done with you and everything you represent in my life.”

The Custodian shook his head in a disappointed manner that felt far too premeditated for comfort, “So be it, “Ned.” It really is quite a waste, though.”

---

“The only thing that's a waste is any time spent going to see that asshole,” Darcy quipped. Ned rolled his eyes a bit, but still laughed a bit involuntarily.

“Yeah, maybe so, but I feel... I dunno... good's something you could call it after that?”

“Geez, Ned, get a hobby or something. There's gotta be better ways to feel good.”

Ned nodded, ultimately agreeing with her assessment. Her sister was only a few weeks away from actually getting discharged and being able to spend some time at home again, but Ned was still going to miss this hospital waiting room. He had spent so much time with Darcy in here, that it kinda felt like a home in itself, oddly chilly atmosphere and all.

“Is it true about that one thing, though..?” Darcy asked, a little uncharacteristically.

“About what exactly?”

“You know... that you were thinking about cutting people out... cutting me out...?”

Ned somewhat shamefully looked away from her trying to concentrate on one of the walls of the waiting room before just admitting to it.

“Yeah... I did. I thought it might make things easier for a moment, but then... I felt differently.”

“Any reason why?” Her expression was soft and slightly sweet, her eyes appearing ever so slightly larger behind her glass as Ned gave her a light smile, enjoying the view for a passing moment.

“Nothing in particular.”

“Oh, what a copout!” She nudged his arm with her shoulder, “C'mon, you can at least think of some valid reason in that concussed noggin o' yours!”

“Nah,” Ned almost exhaled the sound, accepting her barrage of nudging, “I don't think I need to.”

“Well, you're still gonna have to just go out there and talk to the people in your life and build those bridges and you could use a trusty second eye to those situations... maybe someone who needs a cool job after a bunch of crazy life shit?” Darcy hinted at in transparent manner.

“What, like Cashe? I think he's got better stuff to do.”

“Oh fuck off, you know I meant me!”

“Nooooo. No way,” Ned responded with “utter shock.”

“See, that's how I know you're concussed. Anyway, would you be willing to have me hang around for maybe a little longer.”

“I don't know,” Ned replied, “you are very pointed and I'm half-certain you only want the position to call me names.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Darcy confirmed.

Ned mulled it over for a little longer before nodding and sitting up a bit.

“Sure.”

“Wait, really?!” Darcy was a little taken aback that he agreed even though she mentioned the idea initially.

“Yeah. It sounds... new.”

---

---

---

“What does Relentless mean?”

“I'm not trying to give you a boring best man's speech with some Oxford Dictionary definition. I'm asking because I feel fairly certain that we know damn well what it means to all of us. The biggest show in the XWF. A three-day battering of blood, sweat, tears, passion and the gritting of teeth as violent, glorious professional wrestling of the highest caliber encompasses the world. The place where history and possibility meet and become reality. Some of the greatest matches in the history of our entire sport have happened under this banner and matches we are incapable of dreaming of will happen under it just the same. It is bigger than any one wrestler, than any one night or match could ever hope to. But you're incapable of recognizing that Vaughn. Of accepting or honoring it in any genuine fashion. You are so many of the things I despise about the wrestling industry. For you, it's all a business, a game where numbers go up and the only power that really matters past your ability to lie and cheat your way to victory is the power of attorney. I'd say you make me sick, but the simple fact is that you're a pale reflection of the kinds of people who really sicken me. Put simply, you are not talented or inspired enough to make me ill.”

“Which is a damn shame because you're not bad, Peter, you're just fucking lazy. Sure, you work harder than somebody like Thunder Knuckles, but that's only because the bar was set so far below sea-level, that even drowning in your bureaucratic bullshit you're still well up above his level. But it isn't an accomplishment. You have all the potential to be another James Raven, to be another Centurion, but you'd rather be Chris Page's armrest. That's not champion shit. That's not even wrestler shit. It's more reminiscent of American Psycho businessman behavior than it is of any athlete and who's really surprised by that? You are the most corporate champion I've seen in my tenure in the XWF and you're even bad at that considering you chose the wrong damn corporation! You won the biggest prize in our sport, the title I have been eyeing for my entire life and what did you use it for? To massage the ego of your boss?! Relentless doesn't describe you Vaughn, but Shameless sure fucking might.”

“Not one man outside of our 16th Universal Champion has done whatever they can to make sure this company looks as morally bankrupt as they do except maybe you. Because you are man to be bought and sold. You are a marketable plush as much as you are anything else in life and the simple fact is that I'm not. I've had a marketable nickname my whole career and I am giving it up for now. Because the simple fact is that I do not need to be some product or talking head. I only need and want to be me. Saturday night isn't just a moment where we do battle in a hall of our histories, it's where I let go of the past, Peter. I get to do something you never wanted to do: I get to choose my future. Nothing is written in stone or destined to be. It is simply those who are willing to make it and those who are not. And despite your lofty accomplishments, you don't have the will, the way, or the want that I do.”

“I'm Ned Kaye. You know my name and at Relentless I will show you why the two are synonyms for one another because I have been through hell and high water and tragedy and pain and doubt and the will to stop living, let alone stop wrestling. And all of a sudden, you think you're gonna get in my way and stop me? Chris Page couldn't keep me down, The Engineer couldn't keep me down, and not even Shawn Warstein could keep me down. All of them said something to the effect of me not being up to snuff, but tell me where the fuck those three are. And you think you're gonna be the one that puts me out for good? Peter, you were lucky to lose to me standing up, don't get ahead of yourself. The Trilogy is walking out of Relentless looking like the Kings that came before us. And the beautiful part in all of it is that this match gets to be the most brutal and violent display of the entire show. I don't just get to embody the XWF in opposition to you, I get to embrace that first letter with open arms. You had a nice time with title, Peter, but the weight of your crumbling little empire is about to all topple over you. And by the end of it you and everyone who shares your cowardly sensibilities will know one thing:”

“The XWF is my home and your bullshit is not welcome.”

“No notoriety. No shedding skin. No nicknames. It's just Ned Kaye you're facing Saturday, Vaughn. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

"You can't run from yourself."