All or Nothing: Black Dragon and Chris Beckford vs. Blade and Scott Hammond

[Ty Burna]

Competitor that makes the pin wins the Eurasian Title.

Deadline is Tuesday, December 20th at 11:59 PM Central Time

 

[Ty Burna]

Black Dragon has been granted a 24 hour extension.

 

[Blade]

The scene fades in to a run-down council estate somewhere in London. Two men can be seen at the foot of a stone staircase that is littered with rubbish. Scott Hammond looks irate and is pacing while Blade stands watch.

This always damn happens! ALWAYS!

Calm yourself.

Why am I always the weak link Blade, WHY?!

Calm down.

I always let the team down, they said that Wasabi Toyota carried me during out title run and now they are going to say the same about us!

Hammond throws a black bag of rubbish in anger.

SCOTT MICHAEL HAMMOND, CALM YOURSELF!

Okay...I'm calm.

This is not like the Brothers In Arms, Scott. This is something so much more. But ultimately this is your problem.

What?

You constantly blame yourself for the shortcomings of our allegiance. How can we possibly rule this place when every time you lose a match you do this?

You’re right. As always.

It’s not about being right Scott, it’s about being ruthless. We took Runn Ricky Runn to the limit did we not?

Yes we did, but I just want us to succeed so badly.

You place too much pressure on yourself.

I know, but I got that instilled in me from very young. My father was quite a...pushy man.

That is precisely why we are here Scott. But first, tell me about your father. All the details please.

What is there to say? He pushed me into all kinds of sport when I was young. When I was 12 I caught him sleeping with another woman and from that day forth for the next 6 years he beat the truth out of me so that I would lie for him. When I left home, I never saw or spoke with him again. What is this for Blade?

Blade lights a cigarette before continuing.

Never mind that at this moment in time, my main objective here is your ability to focus. Your frustration and anger is what ultimately kills off your ability to really go and get what you want.

But it’s the spirit of competition in me, it really hits me when I am the reason we lose matches.

You are NOT the reason, don't you understand!? People lose matches! Hell, when I get beat do you think I come back to the locker room and throw a tantrum? No, because it happens...to everyone. You’re not invincible for Christ's sake.

Okay, I'm starting to come around to your way of thinking. I know I have to focus up, because we have our first PPV as a team this coming week at All or Nothing, and I for one, will not accept nothing! It’s quite aptly named really isn't it?

That it is Scott. All Or Nothing is the start of us taking what we want, and I know how much you want to get your hands on that company ****e Chris Beckford!

Hell yeah. He started at the same time as me and yet he was the one who got the title opportunities. I intend on making sure that I prove why I should have been the chosen one and not this false hero.

This is the Scott Hammond I need by my side at all times. Can you do that for me?

Of course. Anything for the greater good of our cause!

You want a cigarette?

Sure. Why do you ask?

Because you’re going to need one before doing what you’re about to do.

What does that mean?

You'll see.

Blade lights another cigarette and hands it to Hammond who looks a little nervous. They stand having a cigarette under the stairs of the council estate building as the scene fades out.

 

[Blade]

Blade and Hammond stand in the council estate, Blade looking around in disgust as Hammond is calming down and tries to figure out why he recognises this place while gulping down air after his first cigarette in years. Blade starts walking towards the first flat and beckons Hammond to follow.

Hammond: Should I even bother asking?

Blade: No.

Blade leads the way as they walk towards the white door with the black 1 painted on it. He raps his knuckles against the door and speaks to Hammond without turning to him.

Blade: I’m sorry I have to do this...

Before Hammond can respond, the door opens to reveal a middle-aged, balding, overweight man, the smell of stale smoke and lager emanating from the flat. Blade looks into his apprehensive and blood-shot eyes and then to Hammond, who suddenly realises why he recognises the estate.

Man: What do you want?

Blade: Nothing. But your son might want something.

The man squints and recognises his son.

Man: Scott?

Hammond doesn’t reply. The man’s expression softens a tad, but this only extenuates the wrinkles on his tired and worn face.

Man: I’m glad you’re here, Scott. I really mean that. 'Cause... See... I’ve been having some trouble with these pricks who say I owe them money. And... You’re doing well these days right? In your boxing career? I was hoping you could lend me a bit of... Y’know what, come in for a minute.

The man turns and hobbles into his flat. Blade looks at Hammond, who is clearly finding it difficult to control his emotions, and gives him a nod before following the old man into the flat. Hammond hesitates before following Blade and his face turns pale from the strength of the odour within the flat. The smell doesn’t seem to bother Blade as he makes himself at home, sitting on the torn couch and lighting up a cigarette. The old man sits in a different but equally shabby chair but Hammond remains standing.

Man: So, about that cash problem...

Blade: That is not why we’re here.

Man: Well, I know, but I was hoping...

Blade: Do you remember when Scott was a child? And when you were his supposed step-father.

Man: My memory is a bit fuzzy, I had my drinking problem and...

Blade: I know all about you. You spent hours at a time in the pub, spending the money you had that was supposed to be used to support your family. Worse than that, you cheated on Scott's mother. And when Scott found out, well, you couldn't let that little secret get out and ruin your sham of a marriage, could you?

There is a tense silence as Blade’s words ring out around the room. Hammond’s father shifts uncomfortably in his chair under Blade’s penetrative stare while Hammond still hasn’t moved. Blade stands up and takes a long drag from his cigarette. He paces back and forth in front of Hammond’s stepfather before stopping, and turning to him. Blade leans forward so that the two men are nose to nose.

Blade: You are the reason for everything wrong with your son. If you hadn’t beaten him, he could be far more successful than he is now. And there would be no doubt he would lend you money. But you decided to be an asshole instead. He’s angry and hateful and bitter. He lets his emotions get the better of him constantly and it has cost him several opportunities to become one of the best. If it wasn’t for his sheer talent, he might not even be in the WZCW. You messed him up good.

After a few more moments of Blade’s intense stare boring a hole through the old man’s eyes. Finally he straightens up and takes another drag from his cigarette and begins pacing again.

Blade: Luckily for you though, you can change that. Sure his anger problems may never go away, but with your help, he can control his emotions like he needs to.

Man: I’ll help... For some money.

An evil, twisted smile spreads across Blade’s face.

Blade: I was hoping you’d say that.

He takes a deep drag from the cigarette and exhales slowly before suddenly hitting the old man in the face. The father lets out a whimper and clutches his jaw. Hammond is so shocked that he is frozen to the spot until Blade hits his stepfather again. A sickening crack implies the man’s nose is broken as blood starts pouring from his nostrils. Hammond finally snaps and grabs Blade, pushing him against the wall. Hammond is pale and sweating from what’s transpired, but there is still the usual fury in his voice.

Hammond: What the hell are you doing!?

Blade: Saving you.

Hammond: How is this supposed to save me!?

Blade: I’m helping you not only control your emotions but disconnect from them completely. That is what you need to succeed and be the champion we both know you can be! You always feel too much about those who have wronged you, you let your emotions cloud your mind! It stops you from making the right decisions and it stops you from being focused! You’re not a weak link, you’re just an unbalanced one! If you let go of what you feel, let go of what you think is right or wrong, you can embrace what logic tells you is right, to hurt those who have hurt you. That is how you reach your true potential! Getting revenge isn’t a bad thing, but doing it when angry and bitter is! Just... Disconnect. Now let go of me and let this happen or else this alliance is over!

Hammond looks dazed by Blade’s words but finally let’s go. He looks down at the ground as Blade walks back to where his stepfather is sitting.

Blade: Now, I’m not stopping this until you don’t care if I stop it.

Blade takes his still lit cigarette and grabs the old man’s hand. He hovers the cigarette over his hand and looks at Hammond, waiting for a response.

Hammond: I... I don’t care

Blade shakes his head.

Blade: I’m not convinced.

He begins to lower the smoking cigarette towards the hand until Hammond’s father yells out.

Man: Stop him, you useless bastard!

This hits Hammond like a slap to the face. He shakes his head and backs himself to the door.

Hammond: Typical. Aggression is still the only way you know how to communicate, even after you’ve lost everything. Blade, this has actually worked. I can’t feel anger or hatred or sympathy for this man. Because he’s far too pathetic to warrant any emotion from me. Those who have wronged me don’t deserve any emotion from me. I now understand how powerful the mind games you play are, Blade. You used emotions to create feelings of resentment and mistrust between Beckford and Black Dragon so there is no way they can co-exist in the ring. We, meanwhile, rise above all that petty stuff, do our job and take that title. I get it now. Beckford and Dragon don’t deserve any emotion from me, just the swift and brutal response that we will inflict upon them. The same goes for WZCW management and those greedy vets. We take what we want using force, not rage... Blade, thanks to you I’m really ready for All or Nothing..

With those final words, Hammond leaves the flat and heads back to the car. Blade puts out his cigarette in an old ashtray before taking out his wallet. He takes out several bills and throws them at the old man.

Blade: Sorry about that, but his success is more important than your pathetic life. You owe him that much That money should cover your hospital bill as well as whatever you owe the drug dealers or the loan sharks or whatever stupid hole you’ve dug yourself into. See, I’m not such a bad guy.

Blade smirks as he turns around and leaves the flat, leaving Hammond’s stepfather in shock.


---------------------------------------------------------------

The scene opens again with Blade and Hammond walking through the halls of the arena hosting All or Nothing. Neither of them are talking, merely striding forward with an air of utmost confidence before their big tag match. Rebecca Serra walks up to them with a microphone.

Rebecca: Got a minute?

Blade: For once, Becky, I’m happy to see you.

Rebecca: Gee, thanks.

Blade: I want to let Chris Beckford and Black Dragon know that no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you are fuelled by your hatred of Scott and I, you will not win. That’s a confident prediction; it’s a statement of fact. I have taken this man beside me and turned him from an untamed beast into a destruction machine.

Blade pats Hammond, who is expressionless and stone-faced, on the shoulder and smirks.

Blade: This man is now more dangerous than anyone in this company. You’ve never seen anything like this before. And with me as his tag team partner for All or Nothing, that EurAsian title is coming back to where it belongs, with the Sons of Destiny. Neither the courage of Beckford nor the mystery of Black Dragon will stop that. And our victory will be so definitive, so impressive that the whole locker room will have no choice but to sit up and take notice that we are for real and we won’t stop bringing this company down until we get what we deserve. It’s just unfortunate for Beckford and Dragon that they are the ones who have to pay for the sins of WZCW.

 

[Leeds Guy]

Anticipation filled the body of Chris Beckford as he was just a few hours away of taking on the WZCW Tag Team champions Mind Over Matter. He'd gone over every thing in his head, the game plan was set, and all that was left to do was get down to business. Beckford really needed a win, and it was going to be such a difficult job to pick up a victory against Mind Over Matter but he was quite confident that he had the ability within to pick up a victory in the match up. The problem wasn't with the opponents for the Meltdown match, it was the opponents for the PPV match. Black Dragon, Blade, Beckford and Hammond had been engrossed in battle with each other some way or the other since Kingdom Come III and the next step of the battle was a Tag Team match at All Or Nothing with the winner of the match gaining (or retaining in Dragons case) the EurAsian Championship. Blade and Beckford's path has been well known to everybody, injuries, lies, deceit, deaths, their rivalry had everything. With a match of the year candidate at Kingdom Come III behind them and Blade's attempt to end the career of Chris Beckford seemingly a success, Blade has moved on to a new foe, Scott Hammond.

Hammond was hungry for gold. He had been the Mayhem Champion months before and his taste for gold had left him wanting more. Blade continued his attempt's at mind games, the mind games that were successful against Beckford didn't seem to work on Hammond and they engaged in bouts with Blade eventually making excuses to not face Hammond in fear of losing the belt. It was around that time that a rehabilitated Chris Beckford made his return and inserted himself back in the EurAsian Championship picture. Hammond seemed to welcome his return and before long Blade decided he needed help and saw enough of himself in Hammond to try and coax him onto his side. Hammond was having none of it and continued to be a thorn in Blade's side. With the three men focused on the championship, tempers boiled over and Beckford and Hammond soon became uneasy. Elsewhere a rookie named Black Dragon was taking the company by storm, and before long had earned himself an opportunity at the EurAsian Championship.
Beckford remembered the excitement he had before the Fatal Four Way match was announced. Finally, he thought, a big opportunity to get the belt away from Blade. Out of the four men in the match Beckford had wanted Blade to pay for trying to end his career, it was with them that it'd all started and he was sure to end it by beating him and becoming EurAsian Champion for a second time. In the match a questionable call gave the rookie Black Dragon the EurAsian Championship and Scott Hammond showed his true colours by attacked both Dragon and Beckford after the match and aligning himself with Blade. Beckford was upset that Hammond had chosen to go to Blades side. He saw a lot of himself in Hammond before he'd aligned with Blade. He was a nice guy who went out of his way to do what needed to be done for the fans. He respected him, and it hurt Chris to have Hammond turn on him like he did. But he had made his choice and Beckford was sure to do all he could to make him pay.

It was a few hours until Meltdown, and Beckford had arrived at the arena early. Hardly any WZCW talent was in the arena but Beckford notices a few familiar crew members and sees Johnny Klamor rushing off somewhere down a corridor. Beckford approached and entered the empty locker room and stuffed his backpack in his locker. He took a moment to check out his appearance; Beckford wore a black Leeds United football shirt and a pair of blue jeans, before leaving the locker room and making his way out to the ring. Beckford approached the ring via one of the fan entrances and he climbed into the ring before standing in the middle and looking out towards the empty seats. After a few moments he is interrupted by a familiar voice.

Kensworth: Strange to see you out here.

Beckford turns to see Leon Kensworth climbing into the ring, he and Beckford embrace with a handshake.

Kensworth: Getting some last minute preparation in before your match tonight?

Beckford: Something like that, you know I’ve never done this before, come out to the arena before the fans have arrived. It gives off a unique vibe, almost eerie, just knowing that in a few hours the roof will be blown of this place gets me excited.

Kensworth: How you feeling about the show tonight? Still confident you and Dragon can co-exist?

Beckford: Of course, Mind over Matter maybe the tag team champions but tonight they take on the current and former EurAsian Champion. You don’t get to be EurAsian Champion if you don’t have that little extra in your arsenal, tonight we will show them what we bring to show.

Kensworth: How can you expect to co-exist with someone as mysterious as Dragon?

Beckford: Because we’ve both WZCW professionals, and tonight he needs me as much as I need him. I’m going to prove to Dragon that I can hold my own and can pick up the victory, if he doesn’t like that, then he can come and discuss things with me after the show.

Kensworth: So what about All or Nothing. With the title on the line in the tag match if you get the pin you become champion. Surely that will create some mistrust between you and Dragon.

Beckford: At All or Nothing my aim is to do whatever it takes to get the pin in the match. Tonight the win is important, at All or Nothing the pin is the important part of the match. Whatever that means for my relationship and understanding with Dragon is irrelevant. I’m sure he feels the same way. At the end of the day this is WZCW, and when it comes to the EurAsian Championship anything goes.

Kensworth: Have you even spoken to Dragon?

Beckford: No, I don’t need to, It doesn’t matter what he has to say…

Beckford pauses, maybe Leon had a point. He hadn’t spoken to Dragon ever. He had never even seen him outside of the ring. Perhaps it was time to meet with Dragon, to tell him face to face that he was going to take away his EurAsian Championship.

Kensworth: You don’t sound too sure.

Beckford: Do you know where I can find him?

Kensworth: Not a clue.

Beckford: I suppose I should go and have a little chat with him then.

Leon laughs to himself as Beckford leaves the ring, he heads up the ramp and onto the stage before turning back to face the empty arena one last time before he heads to the backstage area. On his way out of the arena he walks past Rebecca Serra. Becky doesn’t acknowledge him so Beckford stops and turns before asking her a question.

Beckford: Hey Becky? Have you any idea where Dragon is?

 

[Gelgarin]

Book of the Dragon​

~ Chapter 15 – Through the Eyes ~​

“What? No idea?”

Rebecca “Becky” Serra leans back against the wall, smiles mirthlessly and shakes her head. It’s a line of questioning that she’s grown intimately familiar with over the past six months. I’m told that being an attractive, soft spoken woman comes with its share of nuisances in any profession. In this world you can guarantee that whenever a male requires information, Rebecca “Becky” Serra will be their first point of inquiry.

“I haven’t the faintest clue Chris. Nobody does.”

Today’s inquisitor: a somewhat flustered Chris Beckford. The halls of interrogation: a generic corridor I lack the patience to imagine in any detail. The subject: me.

“Oh come on…”

‘Oh come on’ indeed. Chris Beckford is evidently not familiar with the principles of extracting information. Perhaps his next line of inquiry would have been ‘pretty please with sprinkles’, but for the fact that Rebecca “Becky” evidently elected to throw the man a bone and cut him off.

“What is it Chris? Do you think I’m hiding him? Putting you guys together is my job. I’d jump at the chance to catch the two of you interacting on camera, but I can’t, because nobody knows where your masked friend comes from.”

Careful Rebecca “Becky”; he might think the lady doth protest too much. The girl is not good at handling direct questions she is not able to answer. Fortunately (if one takes the long view) the titanic intellect of Beckford is busy scanning the building for a fresh target.

“He works here; somebody has to know who he is.”

“Vance or Chuck perhaps, nobody else, I’m positive.”

“How can you be sure?”

Rebecca “Becky” sighs.

“Because knowing where to find the talent is nine tenths of my job description Chris, and I’m good at it. You’ve been trying to find Dragon since he was announced as your tag partner for All or Nothing? Well I’ve been trying to get a word with him since Kingdom Come. So has Johnny, so has Leon and so have a bunch of guys before you. Everything you’re asking has been asked a dozen times before to everyone who might have an answer – they either don’t know or they aren’t saying.”

Poor Beckford, it all sounded so obvious in your head. Exasperation now hangs off of every word.

“You’ve never tried talking to him when he’s in the building?”

“Of course. Go to the truck, I’m sure you’ll find some lovely footage of him pretending I don’t exist. I’ll tell you something for nothing Chris, the man is rude.”

“What about footage of him backstage, how do you coordinate that?”

“Now that I can help you with…”

For the first time in the conversation Rebecca “Becky” smiles a smile of genuine amusement. Being drilled on a subject she can’t talk about is hardly her idea of a good time, but this is a topic on which she can be of use. It would be unfair to say that Rebecca “Becky” Serra’s enjoyable shape is the lone reason that every man in the company considers her the primary point of inquiry; she also possesses a great fondness for obscure company trivia.

“Tell me Chris, how do you recognise Black Dragon?”

Beckford quizzically raises an eyebrow. The question seems so simple. Too simple.

“Err… the costume is a bit of a giveaway, what with the mask and all.”

“Now say that again and really think about it Chris. You can recognise him because he’s got a mask on. You recognise him because you don’t know who he is. Whoever said there’s only one Dragon?”

“You mean…”

She laughs, evidently pleased with herself.

“Yep. Upstairs was demanding we film some backstage skits with Black Dragon. We couldn’t contact him so we dressed Bill from accounting up in merchandise and made our own. He’s fifty-five years old, but it’s amazing how hard it is to find a guy with Dragon’s build around here. Now if you want a meeting with him then I can probably set it up.”

“Accounting ehh?”

And it is at this point that Beckford, for the first time, impresses me. As Rebecca “Becky” continues to talk about her little charade, Beckford closes his ears to the intrusive sound and thinks. An interested observer might actually see the gears turning behind his eyes as he works his way towards a conclusion.

“Hang on,” a detail surfaces in Beckford’s head and he cuts the girl off mid sentence, “last week… Blade and Hammond attacked…”

“Bill, wearing a mask. It’s a blessing he wasn’t badly hurt. He’s tough for an accountant.”

“Sure he’s not the real Black Dragon?”

Not even kind of close Beckford; I am many things, but a fifty-five year old accountant is not one of them.

“Not unless he can be in two places at once. I’ve seen him when…”

Rebecca “Becky” launches into another protracted company anecdote as Beckford again closes his ears are returns to following his train of thought.

“I think,” he says, “that I would like to talk to this Bill character. Can you make it happen?”

* * *​

“Bateman!”

At this point reader, I must apologise for the sudden shift in scene. Fascinating as I’m sure Beckford conversing with an accountant was, I wasn’t there, and my imagination is furnishing me with nothing worthy of embedding in text. As we rejoin the story, Chris Beckford has just stormed into the office of our resident snake in the grass: Vance Bateman. Rebecca “Becky” Serra is still loitering in the background, evidentially along for the ride. As you join us Bateman is sitting casually behind his desk shuffling papers or whatever else it is he does. Alas, this state of affairs does not endure long upon Beckford’s impolite entrance. It takes Vance a full twenty-four seconds to go from calm tranquillity to full purple faced rage.

“What the hell is the meaning of this? You don’t just storm into my office.”

“Wrong.”

Beckford has undergone a subtle transformation during his absence. In the intervening hours he has departed from his mildly flustered state of being, passed through bafflement and confusion and finally arrived at barely suppressed anger. Apparently attempting to find me when I don’t want to be found is a highly frustrating activity. Who would have thought?

“Oh yes, very witty. What do you want Beckford?”

“Dragon. Where is he?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“You hired him.”

“I hire lots of people. I hired you. That doesn’t mean I give a crap where you live.”

“You’re lying…”

And with that our twenty-four seconds are up. Vance Bateman rises from his seat, inhaling deeply, preparing to scream the intruder out of his office. Accuse an honest man of lying and he will look at you will puzzlement or indignation. Accuse a man who knows himself to be dishonest and he will overcompensate with blind wrath. Unfortunately, whilst an obvious character giveaway; blind wrath makes a man difficult to communicate with. Possibly knowing this, Beckford cuts back into the conversation.

“I’ve been speaking with the accounting department…”

It works. Still fuming with rage Bateman drops back into his seat. He can now see where the conversation is going, and he doesn’t like it.

“…did you know Black Dragon is not drawing salary Bateman? Nor is he insured by the company. In fact I went through the records, and the man doesn’t appear to have a contract of any kind.”

Bateman’s rage is still in full effect, but the colour is rapidly draining from his face.

“Accounts have no record of this man existing. I went to talent relations and HR and all I could find was a memo certifying Dragon as a member of the roster. Signed by you Vance.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Beckford, now if you don’t mind…”

“Oh but I do mind Vance, and I think you do know what I’m talking about.” Beckford flourishes a stack of papers from the recess of his jacket. “Would you like to take a closer look at the financials Vance? Would you care to explain why you have been writing company cheques every month since Dragon showed up here? Or should I be taking this up with someone else?”

I am not one for laughter, but had I been in the room I would have chuckled to see Bateman’s face. I began this chapter with a low opinion of Beckford for no other reason than that taking a low view of humanity tends to save time. However; twice now he has impressed me. I confess that it did not occur to me how the absence of a paper trail would prove to be such condemning evidence. The snake has been caught, but Bateman would not be Bateman if he did not try to play poker without any cards.

“I really don’t see how this is any of your business Beckford. Why don’t you leave financials to me and stick to worrying about your match against Mind Over Matter tonight.”

“Because I’m not worried about Mind Over Matter; I’m worried about Black Dragon. And you made this my business Vance. You booked the match. You made him my partner. You added that preposterous stipulation, and now you are going to tell me how to get in contact with him.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything Beckford. I am your boss. I am your superior. You do not interrogate me or tell me how to do my job.”

Obstinate to the end. The delicious irony is that Bateman does not actually possess any information worth knowing. He is not fighting to protect his knowledge, simply to protect his wounded pride. The less a man has to be proud of, the more fiercely he guards it.

“And suppose I take these figures to the board Bateman?

A direct threat. For a long second the world holds its breath, waiting to see what Bateman will do.

“Get out!”

Bateman is out of his seat again. The snake reacts as he always does when trapped: shout angrily at the problem until it goes away. He’s storming across the room, fists clenched, profanity flying from his mouth, intending to remove the unwelcome guest by force. Beckford could snap the snake in half without effort, but unfortunately he appears to judge the dismantling of a ferocious old man to be outside of his moral spectrum. I confess to being disappointed. If one is not willing to respond to such an assault with violence then retreat becomes the only option, and Beckford and “Becky” find themselves hustled outside of the office, the door promptly locking behind them. The muted sound of Bateman’s rage can still be heard from inside. Beckford has little intention of trying to destroy his superior. He does not know what I know; to him Bateman is nothing more than a rather foolish, pompous old man. Not worth the effort. Met with failure once again, Beckford turns to his companion and offers a dry smile.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I think that went very well.”

“Do you have a plan B?”

“I’m formulating one as we speak.”

* * *​

“Dragon!”

It is a sign of poor penmanship to begin two consecutive scenes in an identical fashion, but real life is not always conducive to the production of art. As you rejoin our story Beckford is once again storming along a corridor shouting out a name. The contest against Mind Over Matter has now happened, and ended with me dropping the non-Asian half of our adversaries upon his head.

“Dragon!”

Beckford is some distance behind me. When you emerge back through the gorilla position there are always a large number of bodies competing for your attention. They have been conditioned not to bother me, but Beckford has a reputation for being civil and approachable. People don’t think twice about getting in his way.

He pushes through the trainers, ignores an agent, neatly sidesteps Kensworth only to cannon into a camera person. He stagers, regains his footing and sees the black mask disappearing around a corner. He sets off in pursuit, corners at speed, and skids round the next bend; he’s lost sight of me, but a nearby fire exit is being pulled shut. Now he’s sprinting, fumbling with the bar; open, open. He pushes through, he’s back in the arena; fans are streaming back and forth, the break between matches providing opportunity for them to refresh themselves. The black mask is picking its way along the isle, heading towards the upper tiers. Beckford follows, there’s nowhere left to run, the black mask is in his sights, closer, closer. He’s right behind him now, he reaches out, grabs a shoulder, turns him round…

“Hay, aren’t you Chris Beckford?”

Right mask, wrong man. A chunky teen stares back at Beckford, his awestruck expression concealed by a cheap Black Dragon mask picked up from the merchandise table. Beckford spins back around and scans the area. Black Dragon is emerging from the rest room; another Dragon is queuing for a drink. Two more are sat nearby, hand in hand, watching the show. The girl was right; you recognise Black Dragon because he has a mask on. Remove the mask and people don’t see him. Beckford is looking for a tree in a forest. The crowd has noticed him now; fans swarm in from all angles requesting autographs or attention. Beckford sighs and fixes his face into a friendly grin. He’s lost me, but he still has a job to do.

* * *​

“No luck?”

He doesn’t hear the voice. The show ended hours ago; the talent have long since packed up and set off for the next town. Chris Beckford remains, sat dejected upon a crate backstage. The adrenalin burned off a while back and Beckford is out of ideas. He hunted, he chased, he dug around backstage, he confronted Bateman; he did everything he could think of, and none of it has brought him closer to finding me. He passed through confusion, indignation, disbelief and rage. Now he has given up.

“Chris?”

He looks up this time. The voice is coming from Rebecca “Becky” Serra, still here after hours, evidently determined to become a permanent fixture in our story. He motions for her to join him and she takes a seat.

“I take it you couldn’t get a word with him?”

“Nope.”

“Can I ask a question Chris?”

“Shoot.”

“Why does talking to him matter so much to you? The two of you just took out the tag champs, is it really that big a deal if you’re on the same page or not?”

“We didn’t take out the tag champs. Dragon took out the tag champs. He was hurt, I was calling for the tag and he ignored me. Then I got angry, tagged myself in and stole the win. Do you think we’re going to survive at All or Nothing if we pull that kind of crap? The match is designed to make us mistrust one another. Dragon wouldn’t work we me tonight, how do you think he’s going to act when there’s a risk I could take his title away? You talk to everyone Becky; you know what people are saying. If Dragon and I can’t coexist then we’re dead; Blade and Hammond will pick us apart. All or Nothing may be my last chance to get even with Hammond and Blade, and I am not willing to give it up. Dragon and I can’t win if we don’t work together, and we can’t work together unless we clear the air first. That is why I was so desperate to talk to him.”

“Guess I can’t fault your reasoning.”

“Unfortunately it seems my partner can.”

The girl shrugs, there’s not a whole lot that she can say.

“You never know Chris, maybe he’ll come to his senses.”

“Does he strike you as a man with much common sense?”

“We can but hope.”

With a knowing smile Rebecca “Becky” rises from the box and heads off about her business. She turns to the dejected Beckford.

“Go home Chris, there’s nothing more to be done here.”

* * *​

“You took your time.”

Beckford spins round, car keys clattering to the parking lot floor. The voice came from the shadows; a tiny smouldering ember is all that is visible in the gloom. There are a great many simpler ways I could have chosen to make an entrance than waiting for six hours in a car park, but it always pays to put the other man in awe of you. Slowly, affecting a nonchalant stride, I bring myself forward into the pool of light surrounding Beckford’s car.

“Dragon?”

“You wanted to talk to me?”

Questions buzz back and forth in Beckford’s head. There are so many questions he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask about the match that just happened, he wanted to ask about the match to come, he wanted to ask about trust and cooperation, but over the past twenty four hours one question has risen in his mind to eclipse all others.

“Who are you?”

“They say that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. They are wrong.”

“That’s not a lot of help.”

“Get used to it. That was a nice little stunt you pulled back there, stealing the pinfall.”

“I felt I needed to get your attention.”

“It worked.”

Give Beckford his credit, he seems thoroughly unafraid. Most men would be intimidated were they accosted in a parking lot by a masked stranger, but Beckford stands tall, curiosity overpowering the far more logical emotion of fear.

“You’re not on company paperwork. Nobody knows where you came from and Bateman threw a fit when I started asking questions. Who are you?”

“I am not your friend Beckford, and as such I feel no need to answer personal questions.”

“Friend or no, I have to work with you this Sunday, and we need to get on the same page before then.”

“Do we?”

I am not minded to be helpful at this point. I am here because Muse instructed me to be, but I do not trust this man. His in ring antics have served only to compound that mistrust.

“Blade and Hammond will be.”

I don’t trust him. I don’t much like him. But I must confess: the man has a point.

“Smoke?”

I draw level, recline against the hood of his car and proffer a battered pack.

“No thanks. I know what they do to people.”

“You used to smoke?”

“No.”

“Then you can’t know what they do to people.”

Slowly Beckford reaches across and takes a while cylinder from the packet. He eyes it reluctantly for a moment before handing it back.

“I don’t think so.”

“Fair enough.”

We sit in silence for a moment, we’ve both been playing this encounter in our heads all day, but now neither of us is sure of what to say.

“You don’t seem to trust me very much.”

As an opening gambit it could well come from either man, but in this case it is Beckford who breaks the silence.

“That’s because I don’t.”

“May I ask why?”

“Don’t take it personally Beckford, I don’t trust anybody.”

“You think I’m going to turn on you?”

“Let’s say that I’m open to the possibility that you might not.”

“I’m not going to lie to you Dragon, I want your title.”

“Here.”

Shrugging I swing the strap off of my shoulder and offer it out. Puzzled, Beckford takes the belt.

“You are now Eurasian Champion. Congratulations.”

“What?”

“I am not here to defend a title. I don’t particularly want a title, and if me having a title is going to be a problem on Sunday then I’d rather get rid of the blasted thing now.”

“You’re not here to win titles?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

The indignation is clear in Beckford’s tone. He’s been here years chasing gold, and now he finds a man willing to give it away on a whim. I can understand his frustration. Hopefully, for a week at least, I can bring him around to my way of thinking.

“Blade and Hammond are scum: agree or disagree?”

“You have to ask? Agree.”

“Blade and Hammond deserve to have eighteen kinds of crap beaten out of them: agree or disagree?”

“Agree I guess.”

“That is why I’m here. Blade and Hammond are pretty villains who must be punished. Winning the match is not important to me, so long as they suffer. Help me with that and the strap is yours.”

Beckford stares down at the gold in his hands. The cigarette failed to tempt him, but this time I can see the longing in his eyes. Beckford is a man to whom titles matter. He gives his body on a daily basis in order to entertain, and the recognition that comes with a championship means almost everything to him. As at the start of this tale, you can see the gears turning behind his eyes as he works his way towards a decision. Finally…

“No.”

…he hands the belt back.

“You don’t want it?”

“Not like this.”

“Fine.”

It doesn’t matter to me either way, but Beckford evidentially feels the need to justify himself. I suspect he is speaking for his own ears rather than mine, but I listen nonetheless.

“I was wrong, I don’t want the belt. I want to be the champion. A champion doesn’t have the belt handed to him. He doesn’t get given it in exchange for a favour. He wins it fair and square in the middle of the ring. I want your belt, but I don’t want you to give it to me and I don’t want to screw you out of it on Sunday. I want to beat you for it, one on one.”

“I think I once dropped you on your head from ten feet in the air. Your odds are probably better taking the gift.”

“You could be right. But if I can’t beat you then I’m not the champion, and holding the belt isn’t going to tell me differently.”

I’d rather despaired of looking, but perhaps there is still some honour somewhere in this business. I keep scanning for evidence to the contrary, but despite all past experience, Beckford actually appears trustworthy and sincere.

“Fair enough. Then back me up on Sunday. Win the match if you want, just make sure to give me some time with our opponents first. I have a score to settle. Come the end I’ll give you your honourable title shot. I’ll even agree to play fair.”

“I’m not sure title shots are yours to give away.”

“I’m sure Bateman can be ‘persuaded’ to support the idea.”

For the first time in the meeting we share a dry smile. Beckford knows more that I would like about my situation, but I must confess, it comes as something of a relief to be able to reference these things with a fresh face.

“Should we discuss strategy?” he asks.

“I find hitting people until they stop moving usually suffices.”

“That’s it?”

“You can jump off something if you like, just don’t land on me.”

The meeting seems to have wound its way towards a conclusion. I’m still not sure if I trust Beckford, and I have no doubt that he’d unsure if he can trust me, but perhaps we can come close enough for one evening’s work. Stubbing my cigarette out on the hood of his car I swing the belt back over my shoulder, excuse myself and wander back towards the shadows.

“Hay, wait.”

I don’t.

“Dragon…”

I am now engulfed in darkness.

“What if I need to contact you again?”

No reply comes back. Beckford sighs, the meeting wasn’t everything that he had hoped for, but it will do for now.