In the evening hour Corey couldn’t help but notice the tricks the shadows were playing on his home, making it look like a wide grin with some of its teeth knocked loose. A multitude of tarps rippled in the gentle breeze, giving credence to the notion that the house was alive and breathing. And still greviously wounded. But the work crew had been doing an excellent, if not expensive job, and the repairs to his home were actually slightly ahead of schedule.

Corey sat on the steps of the gazebo, perched on a hill on his property not altogether far from the house. The gazebo had mostly been spared, except for some evidence of errant ash that had pock marked its otherwise pristine exterior. Corey’s attention was soon diverted from the house to the slim figure making it’s way towards him.

He knew this day would come, but had dreaded it. Joachim and he had not spoken since they had been intimate. Both of them realizing in those post-coital hours that what they had done was make a grave mistake. Corey still hadn’t heard anything from Pan either, not since he admitted to him what he and Joachim had done. Pan’s silence in that moment had been more damning than any rage fueled tirade. Just the ice cold cadence of a man wounded and too disgusted to waste oxygen on the one who wronged him.

Jo took a seat on the step beneath Corey, positioning himself purposefully so they could speak without looking at each other, most likely. Hey, how’s the house coming? Joachim’s tone was stilted, lacking the natural flow of conversation they usually exchanged.

It’s coming along. A little faster than schedule actually. Corey paused. I’m sorry I didn’t call.

Me too.

An awkward silence permeated for a moment before Joachim broke it. I’m sorry. I screwed up.

Nah man, we both screwed up.

I put all that pressure on you though. Jo’s hands sat in his lap, and he nervously steepled his fingers and tapped them together. All that “maybe I love you” stuff. It was too much. And you were already under…

…too much stress? Corey finished for him. I’m always under stress Jo. If it’s not the commune, it’s the XWF, or killer artificial intelligences, or rogue megalomaniacs. Corey shrugged and grinned, though it wasn’t an altogether happy grin. Hell, sometimes they check multiple boxes at once! Corey moved to put a hand on Joachim’s shoulder, then decided even that show of intimacy was a bridge too far. He hoped Joachim didn’t notice him pull his hand back. The fact is I’m just as capable of making decisions as you are. I decided to sleep with you.

Yeah…I guess… he murmured noncommittally. I still made a mistake though. And you know what the worst part is? I hate that it was a mistake. I hate that the first time I got to express how I’ve been feeling with you I fucked so much up.

You didn't...

Then where’s Pan?

The question cut straight to the heart of the matter. He’s away. Thinking things through. Even as Corey spoke the words he didn’t know they were precisely true.

So you told him? The whole story?

Yeah man, I had to.

Joachim sighed and put his head in his hands. That doesn’t make me feel any better.

Pan leaving me has more to do than with what happened between us. So please, don’t dwell on it. Okay?

Joachim didn’t respond, so Corey decided to chance the pat on the shoulder after all. Joachim didn’t respond to it much, but did pick his head up out of his hands.

So what’s next? For the house I mean?

What’s IS next, Corey?

You’re going to open the commune back up, right?

Corey grimaced, shifting his weight to account for some war wounds that had been nagging him, physical and spiritual. It was the spiritual ones he was worried about in particular. I don’t know, Jo.

Joachim turned to look at him for the first time since he’d sat down. What do you mean, you don’t know? Corey, this is like, your life’s blood.

Yeah…yeah…but maybe it shouldn’t be. Corey replied with a twinge of sadness leaking in.

But…why?

Because Jo, I’m the one who put these people in harms way. And I fear it won’t stop with what Thunder Knuckles did. I’ve got another Engineer trailing me, and God knows what that thing is willing to do to people I care about to get what it wants.

Joachim had been aware of the other Engineer, but still seemed disappointed. We’re your friends though, Corey. I’m sure any of them would stick by you…

Two two’s, a four, a nine, a fourteen, three sixteens, and a seventeen.

Huh?

Those are the ages of the minors who were residening on my property. Incidetally, one of the two year olds went to the hospital for smoke inhalation when the house burned. Do you think I should be willing to risk their lives for mine? He didn’t mean for the question to sound as biting as it did, and Joachim reeled a bit in reply.

I…I….Jesus, I didn’t think of it that way…

I didn’t either. I kept fixating on how I had let them down that I didn’t realize how untenable this place really was long term. I have so many enemies, Joachim. Just the XWF alone, there’s so much danger there. It’s not right to jeopardize them. It’s not safe.

So this really is the end then, isn’t it?

Yeah. That simple word resounded like a dolorous gong inside Corey’s head. Part of him couldn’t believe he was making it real, committing himself to truly closing down the commune. But at this point, he didn’t see any other way. I’ll make sure everybody has someplace safe to go. It’ll take as long as it takes, but I’ll get it done. They’ll be better off that way.

As Corey finishes, your perspective shifts to the ceiling of the gazebo, where the tiniest of motes detaches itself from the crumbling paint and sails off into the distance.

Elsewhere, a pair of eyes open, and as the shot cuts back we see they belong to the man the Engineer is still inhabiting. He’s sitting on a chair next to a bed. And upon that bed is the misshappen nightmare known as Ambrose Wainscott.



Eye spy, with my little eye… Ambrose rhymes dryly.

There may be a complication. The Engineer intones emotionlessly.

Oh good, I LOVE those. What the fuck is it?

Corey and Pan are on the outs. A lover’s quarrel it would seem.

So we’re not getting Corey to lure Pan out anytime soon. Ambrose collapses into a wracking, sputtering cough. When he collects himself, he holds a hand up. Excuse me. He picks up a radio up off his nightstand with a hand that's every bit as marred as his gruesome face, the fingers looking like the tiny gnarled branches of a decaying tree. He brings the radio up to the fleshy puckerhole of his mouth and speaks into it.

Is Dexter ready?

At the foot of Wainscott’s bed are two monitors, each one showing an adjoining room. In the first, an empty room with an armed guard who also has a radio to his face. In the next room, oddly enough, is a small child playing with a puppy.

He’s ready, sir. The guard replies, heading to the door.

How have the latest batch of Dexter’s been doing, sir?

Shhhhh. Wainscott purrs. On the monitor, a man who looks exactly like Dexter Bright enters the leftmost room. He looks up at the camera and waves. The guard hands Dexter the radio.

Hello Dexter, how are you doing today?

Oh awesome, Mr. Wainscott! Dexter enthuses. I went into town today…

Did you remember your disguise?

Oh yes sir, I remembereded sir! But I had such a good time. I saw a pretty lady and said hello, and she said hello back. I could totally tell she wanted me bad so I took out a piece of paper and wrote down my phone number and gave it to her. I hope she calls!

Dexter, you don’t have a phone.

Dexter’s impression would seem to imply he had never considered this. So whose number did I give her?!

Wainscott sighs. The Engineer rolls their eyes. Nevermind Dexter, today is a very important day. Because today you prove your worth to me. Do you want to prove your worth?

I do! And I think I’m worth a lot. A lot of money!

Well, this isn’t about being worth a lot of money, Dexter. This is about worth in loyalty. Do you understand?

Dexter looks confused for a moment. But I AM loyal.

Well, we’re about to see just how loyal, hmmm? Dexter in the next room you will see a small child playing with a puppy. The child is an orphan from a local program I donate lots of money to for this express purpose. Now on my order you are going to go in there and break the puppy’s neck in front of the child.

A long silence proliferates as Dexter seems to process this information.

Dexter…? Wainscott prods.

Oh, uh, I’m here sir. But…why?

What do you mean “why”?

Like, why am I doing this? Won’t that make the girl sad? Dexter looks at the door through which the girl waits, his expression looking deeply torn.

Are you questioning my order, Dexter?

Well, no sir….

Because it sounds a hell of a lot like you questioning my order. Now are you going to break that dog’s neck in front of the little bitch or not?

Dexter seems rooted in place, stricken cold with indecision. I…I….

Shoot him.

The guard behind Dexter unholsters a handgun, steps up to Dexter and fires a shot into the back of his head. He drops instantly, a pool of crimson flowing freely out the back of his head and onto the floor. On the other monitor, the little girl keeps playing with the puppy, oblivious to what happened mere feet away from her. The puppy however, startles a bit in her grasp.

She’s deaf. The Engineer observes.

Yeah, all the little shits they send me are broken in some form or fashion. They remind me of me. I hate them for it.

The guard speaks into the radio again as Dexter’s rapidly cooling body is dragged out of the room by two other guards. You ready for the next one, sir?

Ehhhh…let’s give it a minute. Scrub the blood up. Not that the imbecile would put two and two together anyway.

Yes, sir.

Wainscott turns his attention back to The Engineer.

Well, that was disappointing. And it’s been happening more and more often.

It has?

Yeah. Wainscott grunts as he uses his only functional arm to reposition himself. It’s a complete shit shoot with these Dexter clones. Some will do whatever I say. One of them sucked off one of my horses for a box of Slim Jims.

The Engineer’s face curls up in disgust. Wainscott scoffs. Oh don’t give me that. When you’ve got money like I do, yet can’t even take a piss without a tube running out your cock you take your amusements where you can get them. Anyhoo, some of them are absolutely obedient. Others seem to have an…ethical streak…

It’s interesting.

What is?

The original man himself was a man of such duality. Right and wrong contained in the same body in equal measure. It’s interesting that it would manifest in his clones in this way.

Wainscott waves the notion aside. Philosophizing aside, I just want all these fuckers to listen to me so we can turn them into good little kill bots. He breathes a gasping rattling breath. So what the fuck are we gonna do to lure Pan in?

I’ll think of something, sir.

You sound confident.

I am. When have I ever disappointed?

Ehhh, you’ve always been one of the good ones. He waggles a gnarled finger at her. But you better get this done.

Of course, sir.

With that, Wainscott returns his attention to the handheld radio. Alright, send the next one in…

Elsewhere….

We see a shot of Corey Smith, and instantly it strikes you that something’s a little off. For one, his hair is standing straight on end. For another, he’s looking a little bit flushed. The shot pulls back to disclose that Corey has his legs wrapped around the top of an XWF match cell’s door and he’s hanging upside down from it.

Sometimes I try to challenge myself to see things a little differently. Which is something you’re going to have to do, King…oooof….

Corey unspools his legs from the door and allows himself to flip down, landing on terra firma.

…if you want to beat me. But before I start thrashing you too hard, let’s give credit where credit’s due.

You SHOULD be a former Universal Champion at this point.

All hypothetical bullshit aside about whether Raion Kido was at the top of his game or not (he uhh…wasn’t), you beat the Universal Champion fair and square. For want of your match being a title match, you’d have been crowned a real honest to God king. For a little while at least. And that’s why I chose you to be my next opponent. Because in my mind, you kinda got shafted brother. That accolade SHOULD have been yours. Thankfully I play the game a little differently than Kido. I play the game with a set of balls. Big brass clang-a-rooskies in fact. Which is also why I’m booking myself AGAIN right before I massacre TK at Relentless.

But here’s where the other shoe drops. Remember when I said you’d be a former Universal Champion? Well, that’s because your record this year kinda, well, BLOWS. Now, I’m not a human encylopedia like Mark Flynn, a man who will hold ancient history over your head like a Sword of Damacles as if it’s impossible for someone to change or show improvement over time. No. We’re talking very recent history, Isaiah. 2023, brah. And here’s how you break down on free TV.

Loss to Dolly Waters
Win against Barney Green and Calypso
Loss to Dolly Watrers that got reversed
Draw against Noah Jackson
Loss to Dionysus
Win against Raion Kido
Loss to Bobby Bourbon
Loss to Atomic Bat and Blue Tango

And how you did on not so free TV.

Leap of Faith: Loss to Bobby Bourbon
War Games: Team won…without you in the Finals
March Madness: Win against Jay Omega
Snowjob: Loss to Jenny Myst

Ho, ho! Somebody get me off this roller coaster, I think I’m gonna hurl! Seriously, this bitch has more twists and turns than an Agatha Christie novel running through your small intestine. Don’t ask me why you ate it. I don’t know.

Sooooo…yeah. Getting back to that whole former Universal Champion thing, I daresay based on your record in 2023 you probably wouldn’t have held it long. Hell, you may have just lost it to Bobby Bourbon. Who, in turn, probably would have found a way to lose it to a Real Housewives reject again THE SAME NIGHT.

At any rate, I ask you Isaiah, does this look like a very “kingly” record to you? You’re not even breaking even. You’re just breaking bad, and not even in the cool middle aged drug dealer way. And granted, you have some heavy hitters on there like Dolly Waters (who I beat this year) and Bobby Bourbon (who I eliminated at War Games) that you contended with. But the fact remains…yikes.

So it kinda begs the question, how the hell did YOU beat Raion Kido. Do we dare invoke the F-word?

F-f-f-f-f-fluke?

I mean, Kido wasn’t at his best. But was he doing “losing to you” poorly? I don’t know about that, man.

But, the record speaks for itself I suppose. A win’s a win.

And now you contend with me.

A very, very pissed off Corey Smith.

Who is having another title match in a cage (oh, you didn’t think you were getting out of that, did you? There are TWO briefcase holders out there goddammit!)

Who is for damned sure not about to lose while I’m staring Relentless in the face.

One out of three may be decent in horseshoes and hand grenades. But when you’re facing me?

It’s one hundo or nothing.

Oh and Marky Mark, you can feel free to check my math there if you feel so inclined.

Oh, who are we kidding, you already did.

Nerd.

Elsewhere (again)

Deer litle gurl

i am sory i brok ur pupees nek. I dont meen 2 be meen, but the bad weelchar man mad me do it. Am veery veery sory and wuld nevr do it agin.

Luv dekster

Ps: if the bad weelchar man wantz to giv u slimjims to do stuf say NOOOOOOOO!

The shot pulls back to reveal Dexter Bright, or one of them anyway, huddled under a blanket with a flashlight and hastily scribbling out this missive. Suddenly, a voice calls out to him.

Hey, its lights out!

Oh shit! Uhhhh…sorry!

What are you doing under there anyway?

The sound of footsteps start getting closer.

Shit! Dexter hisses under his breath. He looks at the note and then cranes his neck to hear how close the footsteps are getting.

I said, what are you doing under there?! You better not be jerking off!

The footsteps are almost on him.

Sorry little girl. He whispers, before balling the note up and shoving it in his mouth. Just as Dexter gets the paper down his gullet, one of Wainscott’s goons pulls the blanket off of Dexter’s head. He looks Dexter up and down with an imperious glare, but ultimately seems satisfied nothing was going on. Dexter smiles.