The rhythmic bass drops of the music filled in the space between the beats of Corey’s heart. The air was humid with the perspiration of over a hundred gyrating bodies that had converged on the dance floor. Dazzling lights danced over Corey’s head, painting his folly in a veritable rainbow of misgiving.

Why are you here?

The dragon asked, it’s lithe blackened tongue licking the outside of Corey’s earlobe as it spoke from just over his shoulder. But Corey ignored it, just as he had all night. He knew why he was here. He was here to lose himself. He was here to forget the ruination of his home and the man who did it. To forget the worry and disappointment on the faces of HIS people as he informed them they no longer had a place to sleep at night. To forget that two of the most dangerous men in the XWF could now end his title reign whenever and wherever they wanted.

To distance himself from the fact that at Leap of Faith he had been primed to kill.

Where’s Pan, Corey?

The dragon asked. And again it was ignored in favor of right now. This moment in time, set on an island adrift in a cosmic oasis. Nothing more. Nothing more.

Nothing more than the beautiful face in front of him. His long hair and glistening upper torso making Corey feel good. Making Corey forget about the argument with Pan. Making Corey forget about all those nagging, needling questions he’d been asking himself about who he truly was and if he had had the capacity to end Thunder Knuckles’ life.

None of that mattered in the cool green eyes of this beautiful young man as he closed in on Corey, dancing up in his body as one. Swaying with him to the tempo of the music. Corey couldn’t help but become flush with wanting. Pan appeared in his mind’s eye…

Where’s Pan, Corey? What are you doing here?

He wanted to tell the dragon to be quiet, silence him forevermore. Corey knew what he was doing. What he wanted.

And the young man continued to oblige, drawing his face in close to Corey’s, hot breath on his cheek raising the gentle hairs there in wanton anticipation of those lips. But the kiss didn’t come, it was a tease. Just body pressed on body, flesh pressing the flesh. Corey found his hands working up the young man’s back, feeling the thin skin over taut musculature. Curling his fingers against his should blades, and just wanting to sink into him and be awash in obscenity.

Bathroom. The young man muttered into Corey’s ear. One hand traced a path down Corey’s side and to his wrist, landing there and taking hold. Corey allowed himself to be led through the thick heat of the crowd, jostled about but never losing sight of his lifeline. There was a line at the bathroom, and Corey moved to take a position at the end of it, but the young man simply smiled at him in a way that suggested “silly boy, the rules don’t apply tonight”.

No, no they didn’t.

They hopped the line together, to the lamentations of those waiting. Someone reached for Corey’s lapel, and before he knew it Corey’s free hand had latched onto the interloper’s forefinger, pressing it to the back of his hand, almost to the point of breaking. The man howled and cursed and would bother Corey no longer.   

Inside the bathroom was it’s own Sodom. A couple was brazenly fucking in the stalls. Another young man was vomiting copiously into the sink. Corey’s other half pulled him into one of the free stalls and produce a small baggy, upending it on the back of the toilet. A thin white powder spilled out.

Why are you here? The dragon, again. But it’s tone was different this time. Mirthful. Cloying. It knew why Corey was here. It had known all along.

Corey was here to chase Him again.

The small pile of cocaine looked so inocuous. But to Corey, it was a gateway, a door to a lesser state of himself. A state he wanted to be in now more than anything. A state that didn’t worry or care so much. A state that simply drifted, ethereally, from one high to the next and never, never considered what might lay beyond.

It was simple, by God. It was SIMPLE.

Corey needed simple. The dragon offered him simple. The young man, with a straw protruding through his nose, proceeded to do a bump off the little mountain of cocaine. His eyes widened and he fell back against the stall wall as he waited for the high the commence. Handing the straw to Corey, he turned to him and said, Simple, right?

How did he know? How could he possibly have known? It occurred to Corey then that this entire scene, haunting and dreamlike as it was, was not reality per se. That he was in bed, next to Pan, intertwined, and that his mind was simply testing him. That everything was fine and he didn’t need to accept the dragon’s offer.

But that was a lie. Of course it was.

Corey tapped the straw nervously against his palm, looking to the young man’s languid form. It’s all yours man. He smiled. A beautiful cheshire smile.

…all yours… The dragon repeated, his tongue flicking against the back of Corey’s neck in a manner both irritating and sublime. Before he knew what he was doing, Corey found himself approaching the back of the toilet. He picked the straw up, placing one end in his nostril. Oh yes, he knew how this worked. He never stopped knowing. It’s the sin that sticks with you like a photographic memory.

But Corey halted, something cloying in the back of his mind was fighting this. And then, a series of images overtook him. People who cared about him, who HAD cared about him: Lux, Christian, Pan, Joachim, Dolly, Thad. What would they think? Oh…oh….what would they think?

You gonna bump or what?

I…I… Corey stammered. And that’s when the stall door was whipped open. And Pan filled the gap in the doorframe, his expression stony and inscrutible. His eyes landed on the cocaine quickly.

I didn’t, Pan, I didn’t…

The slap came with a quickness, crossing the side of Corey’s face that had just been tantalized by the young man’s breath not even moments before. Pan turned about on his heels and left, and Corey gave chase through the dancing throngs. But Pan was fast, preturnaturally so. Nonetheless, Corey was finally able to catch Pan as he burst through a back door into the alley behind the club.

I didn’t do it! Corey declared emphatically as he came through the door.

Pan slowly turned around, and offered up a laconic reply. So?

Well, what do you mean “so”? That’s everything. I didn’t give in to…

…to temptation? Pan concluded for him. Or did you just not snort that coke because I was there? And think long and hard on that one, Corey.

You know the answer, the dragon said, again a foul whisper in his ear. Corey shook it away. Please, Pan, PLEASE. I wouldn’t have, okay? I wouldn’t have!

So let me get this straight. You were at a club widely known as a backchannel for drugs, getting real up close and personal with another man, I might add, because you just wanted to let your hair down? Because you just needed some time away from all the stress in your life? He snorted derisively. Bitch, go take a walk then! Go for a swim. Practice some meditation. But whatever you chose you do NOT drop by a known drug den when YOU ARE AN ADDICT IN RECOVERY! Pan’s voice rose into a roaring angry crescendo of disappointment.

Corey looked down at his feet, completely at a loss for what to say. I don’t know what you want from me.

I want you to speak the words, Corey! I want you to admit you were about to fall right off the wagon. Because unless you're honest with yourself, I can’t even begin to help you!

Pan…Corey breathed…who says I need help?

Pan's eyes widened slightly and his brow furrowed. Then go back inside with your whore. Pan turned abruptly and headed to the entrance of the alley.

Corey outstretched his hand, preparing to pursue. But then thought better of it. Nothing good would come of them talking tonight. And Corey understood why Pan was upset. Corey had wronged him. He knew that. But the urge to escape had been so strong. And Corey had been so weak. But he wasn't going to use. He wasn't.

Right?

If that's what you'd like to tell yourself.

The dragon again. But this time the voice seemed to emanate from below him. He looked down at a puddle at his feet, seeing a reflection of two smoky crimson eyes. In frustration Corey stamped the puddle out, causing an onslaught of rivulets that marred the image.

Corey looked back up then, and Pan was long gone. But now another figure had taken his place at the end of the alley. From afar Corey struggled to glean any fine details but he could tell it was a heavier set caucasian man. And there was little doubt to be had, he was monitoring Corey. Corey's time with Lux had taught him a great deal about how to tell when he was being tailed. But this man wasn't even trying to hide it. Which meant only one thing.

He wanted Corey to approach him.

Corey scanned the other end of the alley. And when he returned his attention to the man he too was gone. The urge to investigate was strong, but there was a wariness there too. Corey was aware his enemies were numerous. But this man didn't seem to be the type to be a hired assassin.

Corey started to walk in the direction the man had appeared, coming out in front of a busy Miami intersection. It didn't take him long to regain the man's trail. He was getting into an Uber, but he shot a pointed glance at Corey as he got in. The implication was clear.

Skirting around a couple on the sidewalk, Corey approached the car. The side door had remained open and Corey slid inside.

Just drive. The man intoned.

Uh…where? The driver asked.

Anywhere. Just drive.

Who are you? Corey got right to the point.

The other figure gave a small half smile and looked out the window as the rain started again, pitter pattering on the glass. I'm going to tell you, and I want you to hear me out before you react out of hand.

Kind of an auspicious start, man.

Well this is an auspicious moment Corey.

Corey winced a bit at the stranger using his name, but allowed him to continue.

I am an Engineer, Corey.

Corey's stomach dropped precipitously and a cold clammy sweat overtook him. He resisted the urge to order the driver to pull over and let him out, and choked back his first reaction in favor of a more muted one.

Who do you work for? Corey kept his tone measured. And what do you want?

I'm going to forego the first question for now in favor of answering the second. The Engineer spoke in a matching muted tone. I want you, Corey.

You're out of your damned mind. And how do I know you're what you say you are in the first place?

The other paused for a moment, and before long a bit of blackened ichor passed over its bottom lip. The Engineer quickly wiped it away with his hand and showed the back of his hand to Corey. Does that look familiar?

It did. Corey could produce the same foul substance when he was infested with the last Engineer. He decided to accept this as proof for now. You say you want me? You have to know how I'm going to reply to that.

I do. Which is why I'm prepared to argue the point. Corey this won't be a retread of your last disastrous experience when you were at odds with your Engineer. I hope for this to be a more mutually beneficial relationship.

"Mutually beneficial". Corey scoffed quietly. So what I get the benefit of your insight and wisdom and all I have to do is engage in a little bit of murder, right?

Depends who we're murdering I suppose. I know you already have someone in mind. Thunder Knuckles. I saw you on television attacking him. I have to admit I was inspired.

I'm not proud of that.

Which is why you were at the club, drowning your sorrows.

Something like that.

But you know he deserves something bad happening to him. Something real bad. He burned down your home for Christ sakes. And why? Because he accepted YOUR pay off? Seems he made his bed and refuses to lie in it now.

What's your point?

My point, dear Corey, is this: I know your moral compass won't allow you to do what truly needs to be done. Oh sure, you came close. But to go all the way towards taking a man's life? That's something else entirely. Something I don't think you can do on your own. So let me help. Let me take the wheel at Relentless and sort that son of a bitch for good.

You must think me a fool…

Oh no. I know you're not. It's a tough sell. But let it percolate a bit. Then, to the driver. I'll get off here.

The driver obediently pulled over to the curb and The Engineer got up and half out the door. Think about it Corey. I'll be in touch.


Christian Andrews, eh? I gotta ask, who did you jack and or jill off to get this opportunity?

Corey chuckles mirthlessly.

But hey, you’re a former XTreme champion. Apparently! You even held it longer than me, which quite frankly is an easy claim to fame due to the fact that my own reign ended after some serious shenanigans. But, still can’t take it from ya. Corey waves his hand in a conciliatory manner.

But you still haven’t earned this. You’ve been a ghost…or phantom…as it were for, what? Five years? And while I’m sure you probably bumblefarted around in some rinky dink promotions the fact is you ain’t done shit here. And with a card that includes Bobby Bourbon, Ned Kaye, and Isaiah King, it boggles my fucking mind how you got this nod and they didn’t. Especially Ned Kaye! Who spoke loud and clear into the megaphone that he does not fear Corey Smith. The fact that he doesn’t have the stones to demand a match with me notwithstanding.

Let’s take a step back.

I’m sure many of you are assuming this match is some kind of punishment for my attempted murder of my opponent at Leap of Faith. You would be incorrect. The fact is, I was at the head of the line volunteering to defend my championship. You see, I want to keep myself razor sharp in the run up to Relentless. I wanna be able to cut real, real, deep when I see Thunder Knuckles. So imagine my disappointment when I stand across the ring not from a challenge, but from a footnote. A paltry afterthought. Etc…etc…

So a hearty fuck you Christian for returning, existing, and possessing the sexual proclivities needed to “earn” this shot. You may not have noticed, but I’m feeling pretty jaded lately. Not quite myself. Having your house burnt down by one of your coworkers WILL do that to ya. So you can expect me to work out all that frustration directly upon thy face at Warfare.

Oh, and the cage? Ah yes, the cage. That’s not for you. That’s for Bobby Bourbon and Mark Flynn. Momma didn’t raise no dummy. And I see you two out there lurkin’. So what better way to protect myself and my investment in the Universal Championship than by having ALL of my ensuing title defenses be cage matches. Yes ladies and gents, I said ALL. Bad luck for the Christian Andrews’ of the world, I guess. But hey, I’m just doing what I gotta do.

But anyhoo, Christian, it’s homework time. I want you to write me an essay on why you think you can beat me. But you are not allowed to use words like drive, desire, or want. Because I can tell you right now none of that shit is gonna make a damn bit of difference. Know why? Because they are directly counteracted by words like “incalculable rage” “inhuman levels of frustration” and “a desire to visit primeval levels of pain on another human being.” I may have cheated and used more words. Sue me. But long story short my man, you are catching me at one HELL of a bad time.

Plus, let’s face facts….you old. Like 43 and some change old. Your star is fading away. Mine is still burning bright as ever. Check it, I’m half your age and chock full of that flashy new school style you openly admit is your stumbling block. And while you may be “cunning”, everybody thinks they’re a smart cookie until their face gets smeared off their skull by one of my kicks. So ask yourself, are you ready for that? Truly? Are you ready for 20 years of martial arts mastery bestowed upon me by one of the greatest assassins the world’s ever known? Are you ready for that captain sundowner?

I don’t think so. And the last five years of your absence doesn’t think so either.

But shoot your shot, daddy. It’s not like you got much to lose.