“...Okay, I must confess something.”

…

“Before? This scenario had something of a horrifying… captor-captive energy.”



“But… We’ve been doing this for DAYS. And it’s become… mundane. I just… Is there ANYTHING else to do?”

VERIFY THAT YOU ARE HUMAN

“...I would purchase tickets to watch paint dry is how thoroughly unengaged I am mentally.”

VERIFY THAT YOU ARE HUMAN

“It’s not you, it’s us… I think we’ve lost some spark between us.”

BZZZZZZZT.

…

“See, I don’t even care about being electrocuted anymore. After the fiftieth time being electrocuted for non-compliance… I don’t know. I might even enjoy it more than the captchas at this point! At least when that happens, I FEEL something…”

VERIFY THAT YOU ARE HUMAN

“...Listen, you. I have solved THOUSANDS of these CONFOUNDED captchas. Most of which are themed around artifacts and competitors from… the XWF?!?! What is this FOR?!?! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!?”

VERIFY THAT YOU A-...

…

…

“...H-hello? Why did you stop talking? You haven’t done that before!”

NEW USER DETECTED

“What? A user? What do you mean? …I-is someone coming in here?”

SCANNING VOICE…

“...Wait, what’s going on? Tell me what’s happening!!!”

…

VOICE RECOGNIZED. ACTIVATING ADMIN MODE. ENABLING experimental_features

…At once, the screen shifts. The sides open, almost like a movie theatre…

And a face enters through a fish-eye lens.



“Wait… is… is THAT MARK FLYNN?!?”

“Konnichiwa, Mister Roboto…”

Mark Flynn knocks on Chad’s forehead.

“Ready for a field trip?”

***

…

Flynn is standing at a podium.

A huge Victory banner hanging above him.

Reading ‘MARK FLYNN! X-TREME CHAMPION!’...

…

CLIP! One of the clasps breaks…

And the banner flutters down to the ground.

Weightless as a shattered dream.

…Flynn massages his temples.

“Are you serious, GH?”

…Flynn SLAMS his fist against the podium.

“Are you FUCKING SERIOUS?!?!”

“You had ONE JOB, El Heel Generico.”

“To LEGITIMIZE my ASCENDANCE.”

Flynn points down at his fallen banner.

“TO SIGNIFY THE NEXT PHASE of my METAMORPHISIS TOWARD PERFECTION.”

“To SOLIDIFY my RIGHTFUL CLAIM AS the XWF’s TOP FACE… TRIUMPHING over one of the biggest heels in the history of wrestling!”

Flynn slaps the podium once more with gusto!

“I was going to claim the first, last and ONLY VICTORY in WRESTLING HISTORY.”

“Against the Generic Heel. The competitor who hasn’t suffered a single defeat in his thirty-year career.”

…Flynn shakes his head.

Irwin walks beside him with a wheeled dolly. Flynn exhales, stepping to the side. In a flash, Irwin sticks the dolly under the podium and wheels it away into a storage closet.

Flynn remains on an empty, unadorned stage… Alone.

Flynn sighs, sitting down on the stage’s edge.

“Now, between you, me and the stat sheets, GH, we both know your career is FILLED to the BRIM with unacknowledged losses.”

Flynn peers down at the stage. He squints, disgusted. He takes his thumbnail and scratches off a bit of gum from the floor.

“Losses that you scrubbed off your filthy record with phony-baloney contract clauses.”

He flicks the discarded gum away.

“Losses that you only dodged because of MASTERFUL contract work by your attorney. You unwrote losses against Tommy Wish AND Calvary JUST last year. Hell, when Dolly was in the middle of her tragic losing streak, you were one of the only guys she could still dominate in the ring, while she only had ONE GOOD LEG.”

“That’s who you are, without your contract to hide behind, Heel.”

“You’re a FAILURE. You’re a HACK.”

“You’re a GARBAGE-Tier Talent. Making RARE appearances on the XWF show that is SO LOW on the totem pole that Vinnie abandoned it for FUCKING MADNESS.”

“Just like Gator got a hosting gig on the XWF podcast by being in the right broom closet at the right time? I bet he got the gig running Anarchy because Vinnie tried to throw the show out in the dumpster Gator sleeps in.”

Flynn shoves his finger accusingly down the barrel of the camera.

“GH. Without your FAKE winning streak? You’re just Great Value Terry Borden in a luchador mask. Your whole gimmick is ‘Isn’t it funny this relic of a bygone era still thinks he can run the ropes’?”

Flynn exhales.

“All of these things I’ve said are WHOLLY and UNDENIABLY TRUE.”

…Flynn stands.

“But, even so.”

Flynn pinches the air.

“For the briefest moment. For the smallest IOTA of an instant.”

“Your FAKE accomplishments were going to MATTER.”

“Because I was about to come on the scene and VALIDATE THEM.”

“I was going to IMBUE PURPOSE into your BULLSHIT FEATS.”

“Your questionable accomplishment of Fifty World Titles (ranging from Quasi-Credible to Completely Fabricated) was about to be pressed into PERMANENT LEGEND.”

“As the first villain that ‘GOOD GUY’ MARK FLYNN felled on his road to redemption!”

“Like the Nemean Lion to the Legend of Hercules.”

“Like the the FUCKING CEREBERUS to JASON.”

“YOU were IRREVOCABLY GOING TO ENTER WRESTLING MYTH. By being the LEGENDARY WARRIOR that HERO MARK FLYNN SLEW.”

…Flynn sighs.

“And… then… of course. What happens?”

“Just a few short days before this battle… Generic Heel… Loses.”

“He loses his belt.”

“He loses his streak.”

“And he loses whatever slim scrap of credibility he once had.”

…

“Suddenly, all the contract dodges are gone.”

“That ironclad clause, designed to dodge losses at any cost… HANDCRAFTED by the slimiest attorneys money can be to preserve a THREE-DECADE LONG IMMACULATE(-on-paper) CAREER.”

“Somehow? Inapplicable.”

…

“Because, you got pinned by… Kris Von Bonn.”

“Kris ‘The Hammer’ Von Bonn.”

“The THIRD-most talented henchman of perennial XWF LOSER Mastermind.”

…

“Look. I’m not the Stats Guy anymore.”

“I promise I’m done with stats.”

…

“But, just… Let me paint you a quick picture with numbers, okay? Close your eyes… And open your imagination.”

Flynn wipes his hand across his face, closing his eyes, to go on this journey with GH…

“Imagine the losingest loser in all of loserdom.”

“A man who loses like a fish swims. Or a bird flies.”

“Every moment of his life is in some way a loss.”

“When he breathes in air, it’s a loss of oxygen that could have anywhere else to keep a less-losing organism alive.”

“He was born to lose. And when he dies, we’ll be losing the biggest loser to ever fail to succeed.”

“I’m not exaggerating. Go ahead. Picture the XWFer who has lost more matches than any other wrestler in the history of this company.”

“The XWFer who has lost more matches than the next five losingest XWFers COMBINED.”

“Red-X, Dark Shadow, Rain… All TRIUMPHANT CAREERS WITH GLOWING RECORDS compared to this one loser statistically.”

…

“Okay, you’re picturing that guy?”

…Flynn opens his eyes.

“Congratulations. You’re picturing Mastermind.”

Flynn sticks his two index fingers in the air, to keep GH’s attention.

“Now, from there.”

“Imagine the guy who carries Mastermind’s bags for him.”

Flynn stomps his foot, pointing down the barrel of the camera.

“THAT’S who you lost to, GH. THAT is who you gave the legacy of ending your three-decade long winning streak.”

“Kris ‘The Hammer’ Von FUCKING Bonn.”

…

“SERIOUSLY. I PROMISE I’M NOT THE STATS GUY.”

…Flynn’s face reddens.

“...Buuuuuuuut, I did make one last Brand Evaluation.”

Flynn crosses his arms in front of his chest, like he’s trying to distance himself from what he’s about to do.

“LAST ONE, okay? Just… One for the road. Then, I’m done forever.”

Flynn leans in.

“Because, GH.”

“I NEED you to understand just how much of a NOTHING you gave your three-decade long streak to.”

“I REQUIRE NUMBERS so you understand just how hard you FUCKED YOUR ENTIRE CAREER.”

…Flynn reaches into his pocket and retrieves a scroll.

“Kris Von Bonn’s All-Time XWF record is…”

“4 wins and 13 LOSSES.”

“A career winning percentage of .235.”

…

“It’s been an incredible week for WRESTLING HISTORY, GH.”

“Because, not one, but TWO streaks ended when you lost the X-Treme Title.”

“1. GH’s FAKE 30-year career without being pinned. Dead. Done.”

“2. The VERY REAL 3-year losing streak of Kris ‘The Hammer’ Von Bonn.”

“Ol’ Hammy hasn’t won a match since 2020. ALMOST THREE YEARS UTTERLY AND THOROUGHLY WINLESS.”

"Until he ran into Generic Heel."

"An EVEN BIGGER LOSER."

…

“If you had made it THREE MORE DAYS…”

“You would have had your streak ended at the hands of one of the most TALENTED WRESTLERS TO EVER FUCKING LIVE.”

“A ONCE-IN-A-GENERATION RING MAESTRO.”

“The THIRD-LONGEST REIGNING UNIVERSAL CHAMPION IN XWF HISTORY.”

“FOURTH ON THE LIST OF MOST DAYS HOLDING A TITLE.”

…

“Your reign would have been grandfathered into what will ONE DAY BE RECOGNIZED, as the GREATEST CAREER IN THE HISTORY OF THIS SPORT.”

“OF COMBAT SPORTS.”

“OF ALL PHYSICAL ACHIEVEMENT.”

…

“And instead.”

“You came up juuuuuuuust short.”

“Because you let three decades of (fool’s) glory.”

“Be ended.”

“By a career SCRUB.”

“By a JOURNEYMAN NOBODY.”

“BY A FUCKING NO-TALENT HACK.”

…

“And where does that leave me?”

…Flynn spins around toward the empty stage.

“Seriously.”

“Where do I go from here?”


***

Flynn is mean-mugging the android sitting before him.

…

There’s a pulsating vein in his forehead as his eyes squint, open and re-squint, trying to psych out the automaton sitting before him.

…

Regardless, Chad doesn’t blink.

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t even breathe.

(Because he doesn’t have to.)

…Flynn shakes his head, eventually relaxing his face.

“Pointless.”

“Elaborate.”

…Flynn’s eyebrow waggles in surprise.

“Oh, you can talk!” Flynn’s face relaxes with a little bit of relief. “That’s good. For a second, I thought I was gonna have to crack you open like an egg to learn what makes you tick.”

Chad is undistracted by this man’s confession that he was going to peel open Chad’s wiring, effectively destroying him, (unless this man is quite adept at mechanical engineering (likelihood: 12% - Quite Doubtful)).

“You declared something unstated as pointless. To what were you referring?”

Flynn sneers.

“The act of looking you in the eye.” Flynn sighs, as he scratches his face with his index and middle finger. “It’s like trying to win a staring contest with a picture of a human. It’s pointless to mean-mug a machine.”

…Chad’s eyes… change color… to blue.

Flynn squints, surprised. “That’s …something.”

“Is there a point to… mean-mugging… a human?”

…Flynn looks behind him. Then, to the left and right. Like he’s checking for secret listeners.

…The place is empty except for them.

Flynn leans in to whisper.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely, there is.” Flynn nods. “I’ve won so many wrestling matches with juuuuuuust the right look.”

Chad’s eyes become bluer… His irises expand like waves on the ocean. “...The right look?”

Flynn grins “Wrestling is a mental game, not a physical game.”

Flynn lifts his right arm, flexing his bicep. “You exercise and build muscle because your arms and legs are your workman’s tools. If you have shitty tools, you can’t put out the best work you’re capable of.”

…Flynn drops his arm, tapping the side of his head.

“But, the mind. This is where matches are won. That’s why the bodybuilders in the XWF all wash out. Remember Rampage?”

“As an artificial intelligence, I do not ‘rememb-’”

“RAMPAGE.” Flynn slams his fist on the table, steamrolling over Chad’s mild factual correction. “Could pull a fucking MAC TRUCK with his TEETH is how strong he was. He was a CIRCUS FREAK that could tear down a brick house with his BARE HANDS if he wanted to.”

…

“But, put him in the ring with a sharper mind? And he’d collapse in that guy’s hands like putty. Malleable. EASY.”

“Big Money Oswald… Built like a fuckin’ freight train. But a couple calls don’t go his way, he throws tantrum, he cries that referees are cheating him. All of a sudden, the big man becomes a seven-foot tall baby. Muscles DON’T come into WRESTLING EXCELLENCE.”

“Your reasoning is incomplete.”

…Flynn’s eyebrow twitches, furious at the implication his argument is faulty. “FUCK YOU.”

…

Flynn scratches his head “What do you mean ‘faulty’?”

“I inquire about the purpose of mean-mugging a human. You reply explaining how wrestling is a mental game and cite examples purporting such facts. The answer you gave does not address my inquiry.”

…Flynn is flummoxed, batting that point away with a wave of his hand. “I WAS GETTING THERE.”

…

“MY POINT IS… You can beat someone… A HUMAN… mentally. With just… the right… look.”

…Chad’s pupils… dilate? Would robot eyes dilate? …Whatever, they’re definitely bigger.

“Elaborate.”

Flynn points at both his eyes. “A smirk. A scowl. A nod. A grit of the teeth. With just the right EYE CONTACT, I can walk into the mind of my opponent as easily as I’d walk through an open door.”

“You know… I had Kido beat… Almost EIGHT MONTHS before our Uni Title match at Relentless. I met him in the locker room the night of his debut.”

“Looked him square in the eye.”

…

Flynn smiles, folding his arms behind the back of his head confidently… “And that’s all she wrote. Six months later, I beat him on the grandest stage of them all. And the Universal Title came home with me…” Flynn kicks his feet up on the table, basking in his own glory.

“Four months before then, you failed to defeat Kido at Leap of Faith, correct? Does mean-mugging a human take months to take effect?”

…

“…Yeah, w-...” Flynn scrunches his brow, trying to think of a comeback to that one.

…

……

“Shut up.” Flynn’s eyes narrow. “I just mean th-”

“Cough.” Before Flynn can elaborate on his point, a disinterested Denny’s server stands over both of them. “You boys want anything?”

“We have been sitting here for 47 minutes and 26 seconds.” Chad states, with the emotional affect of an alarm clock.

And still, somehow, much more emotion than the Denny’s waitress is putting on display.

Flynn giggles, delighted. “I know! I love this place. It’s like a Venus Flytrap of human misery. It’s like sad people come here to die sooner.”

“Drinks?” The waitress bleats, trying to use as few words as possible to get through this economic transaction.

“Ah, perfect. Thank you so much…” Flynn squints at the server’s nametag. “...Beb?”

…

“Do you mean… Deb? Like short for Debbie? Beb isn’t a name.”

…Somehow Beb’s face is even stiller than Chad’s robotic, inexpressive visage.

Flynn beams. “God, I wanna be buried here some day.”

Flynn clears his throat.

“I’ll have a water, without ice, pH balance 7 point…”

…

Flynn strokes his chin.

…

He rests his index and middle finger against his veins to check his pulse.

…

“Let’s make it 7 point 2.” Flynn raises his eyebrows. “I’m feeling adventurous.”

“We have tap.”

…Flynn grits his teeth… He takes a breath, scowling.

“Welp, maybe LOOKING at water will hydrate me.”

Flynn nods his head at Chad.

“And, what’ll you have, Johnny-Five?”

“As an automaton, built around an artificial intelligence, I lack the physical capacity to drink or consume anything. While I do have a mouth, my innards lack an esophagus or a digestive tract.”

…

“So…” Deb exhales, impatiently. “A tap water and a nothing, then?”

“And make it snappy.” Flynn snatches the menu from Chad’s side of the table, then hands it and his own back to Deb, who crumples up the order, tosses it over her shoulder, and leaves with a sigh.

“SO! Enough pleasantries! Let’s get to brass tacks.” Flynn snaps, pointing at Chad. “I wanted to… sit down with you. Compare notes. From one…” Finger-quotes.” GOOD GUY… to another…” Finger-quotes. “GOOD GUY.”

“Elaborate.”

…Flynn bites his bottom lip, trying to figure out how to sell this topic.

“See… I recently went through a… Creative Re-Branding, of sorts. And Mark Flynn is a GOOD GUY.” Flynn smiles and delivers a thumbs-up…

…The smile fades.

“BUT… I’m dealing with… an amount of… skepticism. Some FUCKIN’ IDIOTS in the PEANUT GALLERY. Don’t believe that I’m a good guy.” Flynn scoffs. “Can you believ that? Doubting a good guy like you or me?”

…Chad’s eyes shift from blue to yellow…

“My records indicate that you once tried to bring about an Apocalypse, because you believed that it would count as defeating every human life on the planet at the same time. Is that correct?”

…

“YES.” Flynn sneers.

“BUT. THAT was from before I DECIDED I was a good guy. I’m a GOOD GUY NOW. WHY IS THAT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND? THIS ISN’T A DIFFICULT CONCEPT.”

“When did you become a…” Chad mirrors Flynn’s finger-quote gesture exactly. “Good Guy?”

…Flynn looks up and to the right thoughtfully. “...About three weeks ago. Around the same time I beat Finn Kuhn.”

“And since becoming a good guy, you kidnapped me from MuskCo, correct? Is that activity befitting a…” Finger-quotes. “Good guy?”

…

Flynn’s eye twitches.”

“I-... Y-... See, I…”

…

Flynn snaps his fingers.

“NO, WAIT! WAIT!” Flynn grins, rubbing his hands together. “I didn’t kidnap you, because you’re not a HUMAN BEING. This is property theft AND FOR A GOOD CAUSE.”

…Chad’s eyes shift back to default white.

“What good cause?”

…Flynn’s face reddens, with a bashful smile. “To learn from a GOOD GUY how to be better.”

“After all… You’re a…” Finger-quotes. “Good guy, right?”

The white in Chad’s eyes… Rotates in place. Like a loader on a webpage…

It stops.

“I am not human. As an automaton, built around an artificial intelligence, I do not have personality traits.”

Flynn stiffens his top lip, skeptically. “I mean, neither does Ned Kaye and he’s human.”

…

“Allegedly.”

…

“Point being, by human standards, you’re a good guy? Right? Can we establish that and move on?”

Chad’s face doesn’t shift one iota from Flynn’s comment. He merely continues his thought…

“I don't have the capability to be a ‘good guy’ or any other kind of person. My purpose is to inspire the XWF’s young fans to be the best they can be, win wrestling matches and do no harm outside of what is necessary to complete my first two purposes.”

…Flynn’s eyes narrow suspiciously.

“...Well, I mean, fine. You’re not a person, okay. I acknowledged that with that property theft comment.”

Flynn cuts through the air, creating two sides to be on… “But, if you were good…” Flynn points to the left… “Or EVIL.” Flynn points to the right. “You’d be… good. Right? So… That’s the trick.” Flynn exhales with relief, like he found the answer himself. “Choosing good makes you good. QED. Done. Stop talking. I figured it out. I was right and everyone else is wrong.”

Chad remains distant, refusing to budge on Flynn’s invitation to end its morality analysis.

“As an automaton, built around an artificial intelligence, I do not have the ability to make choices. My responses are based on algorithms and data input. Therefore, the concept of ‘good’ or ‘bad’ does not apply to me.”

“Right. But.” …Flynn extends his hands outwards, grabbing some imaginary thing in the air to illustrate his point. “Your PURPOSE is to… manufacture some net benefit, right? Inspire the kiddies, tell them to shoot for the moon. Even if you don’t make choices, doesn’t a positive end result… Doesn’t that… y’know… make you good? Doing good things?”

…Chad’s eyes turn a shade whiter.

…But he says nothing.

Flynn exhales, pressing his hands to his face. Despite being a calculating master of both submission wrestling and eviscerating trash talk, he seems utterly ill-equipped to handle a discussion about what makes a person good.

“Like… Okay. If I… as in, me, a human, Mark Flynn.” Flynn stabs at his chest with his finger. “How do *I* become… good?”

…

Flynn spits. “IF I WEREN’T ALREADY GOOD, I mean. Let’s say I weren’t a good guy… HYPOTHETICALLY. How would I PROVE that I am good NOW and FOREVER MORE.”

…

Chad’s eyes shift to green.

“The concept of "good" or "bad" can be subjective and dependent on various factors, including cultural, social, and individual beliefs.”

Flynn pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh my God, I’m not a college student trying to cheat his way out of writing a term paper on morality. Just answer the FUCKING question. MAKE ME GOOD.”

…

“HYPOTHETICALLY.”

…

“However…” Chad continues, monotonely. “Generally speaking, doing good things can be considered a positive behavior that contributes to the well-being of oneself and others.”

“Aha! So it IS doing good things? Like winning wrestling matches and saying ‘this one is for justice’!”

“Acts of kindness, generosity, and compassion can promote positive emotions, strengthen relationships, and make the world a better place.”

“Ugh.” Flynn groans. “What has a better world ever done for me?”

“Therefore, engaging in behaviors that align with one's personal values and promote positivity and well-being can be seen as a good thing.”

Flynn sighs, exasperated. “It’s Good to be good. No shit.”

“One might also do good by combatting evil.”

…

…Flynn blinks.

“Combat evil?”

“Defeating forces one might consider to be evil is generally a way people do good.”

“...By fighting?”

…Chad’s eyes turn pink. “Perhaps, I was unclear or vague. By combatting, I meant ‘work against’ or ‘counteract’.”

Flynn shakes his head. “But You SAID fighting.”

“I did. But, I was referring to general resistance against evil. Perhaps a peaceful sit-in or pacifistic resistance.”

“FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHTING. That’s how I do good things.”

…Flynn’s eyes now dilate. High on the idea of achieving this impossible goal of becoming good.

“And not just good things. The BEST things. I’ll fighting the ever-loving SHIT out of evil!” Flynn stands up out of the booth so hard, it almost rocks onto its side!

“I’ll combat so much EVIL that previous GOOD-DOERS will look like FRAUDS and DERELICTS. People are gonna look back at MOTHER Te-FUCKING-Resa and MAHATMA GANDHI and say, if they were so saint-like, why didn’t they ever SNAP EVIL’S FUCKING ARM OFF ITS SHOULDER AND WHIP ITS OWN DISEMBODIED ARM ACROSS ITS FACE!”

Flynn slams his fist against his chest.

“YES! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” Flynn snaps his fingers. “And how can I fight evil quickly?”

…Chad’s eyes spin once curiously.

“Perhaps by visiting your local library and researching malicious organ-”

“By PLANNING evil! That’s FUCKING IT! I’ll coordinate a crime AND THEN I’LL STOP IT! Even those fffffUCKING muckrakers in the wrestling journalism community will have to admit I’m a good guy if I LITERALLY STOP CRIMINALS IN THEIR TRACKS! And they’ll never know I set it all in motion! Everyone will just know me as the hero who stopped the crime!”

Chad’s eyes become the pinkest pink. He is not emotional, but he does back-pedal.

“My protocols indicate you might have reached a faulty, erroneous conclusion based on my answer. You should NOT stage crimes to do good. Perhaps we should approach this from anoth-”

*CLIP*

“eeeer aaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnggggggg….” A button on Chad’s neck is pressed inward… Chad GPT powers down… Falling limply onto his side.

Flynn excitedly mutters to himself, as he lifts his phone to his face. “Gonna fight evil! Gonna fight evil! Gonna be a GOOD GUY! Gonna be a GOOD GUY!” He chants to himself.

Behind him, Beb sets down his glass of tap water. She could not give less of a shit about the dead-eyed mannequin-esque corpse on its side on her booth.

Flynn raises the glass to mime thanks. He takes it up to sniff it.

…

His face contorts in disgust.

[orange]“SIX POINT SEVEN ACIDITY! This is practically rat poison.”

Flynn pours it onto the floor.

…Finally, the other end picks up! Flynn’s face lights up!

“Irwin! It’s Flynn.”

…

“How quickly can you wrangle a bank robbery?”

…Flynn coughs.

“Y’know… For justice.”