AS 57: Drake Callahan vs Titus

[Showtime]

Deadline is 11:59pm Central Time, Tuesday 8th January. Extensions as per thread.​

 

[Harthan]

"....results of your X-ray are back, and good news, none of your ribs are broken, but three are cracked..."

Holmes.

"...contusion in the knee..."

Showtime.

"...ankle is sprained, I'm going to recommend you stay off it and wear a brace..."

Titus.

"...recommend a facemask due to damage to the nose..."

Titus.

"...showing some symptoms of concussion, you'll need to be monitored..."

Titus. Titus. Titus.

I shook out the cobwebs as I sat in the emergency room. I hadn't been fully aware here since I was rushed here following the match at Unscripted. Or at least, that's what I was told. Hell in a Cell had been unkind to me. I remembered everything, the series of chair shots from Holmes, the cloverleaf that ended it all...but mostly I remembered Titus. My face smashing into a chair, feeling my nose collapse and blood spurt everywhere. The tendons in my ankle being ripped apart as the bones creaked. All sounds being muted, my senses being suppressed as my brain was traumatized.

I knew full well everyone had targeted me in that match. All of them, none of them could stand me. They couldn't bear that I had risen up through the glass ceiling to challenge their precious order of main event dominance. Holmes, the elite snob, who'd been groomed for success. A slow burning build as he won title after title, leading up to his eventual ultimate success. He couldn't stand that I had returned to this company and reasserted myself as the world champion before he could blink, while he was distracting himself with petty vengeances. But at least he was honest. Showtime, no matter what self righteous garbage he wanted to spout at me, just couldn't get over the fact that I had taken his title prematurely before he was able to soak it up. I hope he enjoys it now, the bastard.

But Titus confused me. Other than fitting the mold of stuffed shirt, stick up his ass Mr. Morality who wanted everyone to believe he was literally a superhero, I didn't see what he had against me in particular. And yet, he had targeted me so viciously in this match. The Tit Drop, the ankle lock, everything. Why was I his target? I had enough wits about me to realize there was something there, but I couldn't piece it together. I needed to get out of this hospital and let this concussion clear itself up. Fortunately, I had a few weeks before WZCW would resume following the pay-per-view.

The doctor was saying something. I had been too caught up in my thoughts to be able to catch it. I stared at him dumbly.

"What?" I said finally.

"You can't drive. If there's someone who can take you home, you can call them, but otherwise you'll have to stay here."

I nodded slowly, taking the words in.

"My phone is my bag. Bring it here. Aren't I supposed to not sleep, or something?"

"That you can remember that is a good sign. But no, actually - by the time your ride home, the initial danger period will have passed. A good night's sleep will do you well."

The doctor handed me my phone and I turned it on. I went through my contacts to find Max, but hesitated. I dialed a different number instead. It rang twice before she picked up.

"Hello?" I heard Stoya say on the other end of the line.

"I need a ride home," I said. "I'm at the hospital."

"We've been trying to locate you, but these idiots are giving us some privacy information bullshit. Like they don't know we represent you."

"We?"

"Max, Jason, and I."

"Come alone," I said. I didn't want to deal with Max or Jason right now.

There was a pause, and I could feel that she was saying something to those two. I could almost hear her shrug.

"Fine. Max wants to see you tomorrow though. The Japanese psychopath wants to talk with you."

"His words?"

"Of course."

I pictured her coy, sarcastic smile and mirrored it. Maybe it was the concussion, but I missed her.

"I'll be there in fifteen."

Her end went silent and I put the phone down.

"She'll be here in fifteen minutes. Are we all good, then?"

"There'll be some things for you to sign on your way out. Other than that, you're alright."

"Am I cleared to compete?"

"How soon?"

"Three weeks."

"You'll want to be reevaluated, but I'd be inclined to think so. No sooner than that. I assume you have access to a trainer?"

I nodded, my head feeling heavy and sluggish.

"Good. I'll send a nurse in to keep you up until your friend arrives."

He exited and the nurse soon came in. I ignored her hello. I had nothing to say to her. I knew there was something I was missing here, some piece of a puzzle that I could barely glimpse, but I just couldn't see it. I needed...I needed to...

I felt everything growing darker as my eyelids drooped. A rough shake of my shoulder brought me back.

"I'm sorry, but you can't sleep. It'd help if you talked to me," the nurse said with a smile. I saw through it - a professional work smile that she'd put on every day for, judging by her face, the last twenty years. She didn't care about me. Not that I needed her to. Her smile was hardly the biggest lie I had to deal with. I grunted and nodded my understanding, sitting up to avoid falling sleep.

I put the problem out of my mind, knowing I couldn't do anything with it now. I let the seconds pass away. The seconds passed into minutes, and soon I saw a lithe silhouette in the doorway. Stoya was there, dark and beautiful as I remembered her from last night. I'd avoided her all day, unsure how I felt about her after my little stunt. But I knew now that I needed her in more ways than one.

She strode in, dressing casually for the first time I'd ever seen her. I couldn't have pictured her in jeans and a T-shirt, but she managed to be just as beautiful in it. I shook my head; I shouldn't have let my thoughts run away like this with a concussion. I couldn't be sure they were authentic. It was a thought that made me want to burst out laughing - I couldn't even trust my own head not to lie to me anymore. She came to my side with a smile, and, concussion and all, I believed in that if nothing else. I saw her eyes, too, and knew what was behind them. Ambition, strength, and a little lust - but that was a real smile. She leaned in and kissed me.

"You look awful," she said with graceful music in her voice, her smile not fading. I found myself returning it even as I looked at the mirror for the first time. She was right; my face was a mess, red and puffy where it wasn't bandaged, and that wasn't much of it. I felt my ribs, taped up and bandaged. I knew it would be worse when I got up; it was unlikely I'd be able to walk unassisted.

"One of us still looks beautiful, at least," was the best I could muster. Her smile grew a bit, though I couldn't tell if that was amusement or mockery.

"I checked you out. We can go." She turned to the nurse. "I think a wheelchair will be helpful," she said to her, with no uncertain hint of command in her voice. The nurse nodded and rushed off to find one. Stoya turned back to me.

"What happened out there? You got destroyed."

I groaned, not wanting to remember it now.

"Tomorrow. I can't process it now."

She shrugged - just as I'd pictured it before - and nodded, not looking at me. She didn't say anything else while the wheelchair was brought in. I tried to get out of bed but struggled to do so; Stoya beat the nurse to me, helping me up with surprising delicacy, yet no lack of strength. I put a little weight on my bad leg and had to restrain a gasp of shock and pain; I held it back to just a grunt. I couldn't support it at all at this stage. I leaned on her as much as my pride would allow and she shot me a sidelong glance. Between her, the bed, and my good leg I was able to stagger into the wheelchair. I felt exhausted by the effort of just doing that. Stoya stood at my side and a put a hand on my shoulder, casually, as if she wasn't even paying attention to it. It felt good, nonetheless.

"I can take him out," the nurse volunteered. Stoya looked at her and smiled, and I could tell the difference - this was the professional smile, the same one the nurse had given her. It made me feel better to know that she had an authentic one for me.

"We'll be alright," Stoya said, civilly but with ice in it. She was dismissing the woman, unmistakably. The nurse nodded and exited without another word. Stoya helped me into a jacket, me still sitting, before silently wheeling me out of the hospital, into her car, and back to our hotel.

----

Getting to our room was an ordeal; I'd been given a pair of crutches on my way out, but it still took twice as long as it should have to get to our suite. The same room we had shared the night before, with the whole ordeal with Kate and Stacey. The whole thing seemed to be in a fog now; thinking about it made my head hurt. Worse, anyway. Another thing to process tomorrow. I knew it had been important to do what I had done, but that's all I could get to right now.

Stoya and I hadn't really spoken at all on the way here. She helped me into the bed. I was prepared to sleep in my clothes, but she helped me take my jacket and shirt off. She winced when my chest was bared.

"Are they broken?" she asked, gesturing toward my taped ribs.

"Cracked. They hurt like hell though; I can't imagine what broken ones feel like."

Stoya bent down a bit and touched the tape. I winced and leaned back. She looked at me for a moment and stood back up.

"That bad?"

"Worse."

She smiled sympathetically, something else I'd never seen her do. I gingerly shifted my way to lying down on the bed and closed my eyes.

"You can sleep?" she asked me.

"Doctor said so. I sure as hell need it."

"With tights and jeans on?"

Before I knew it, she was pulling at my belt. I didn't have the strength to stop her, nor did I when she went for my jeans, though I did grab her hand when she went for the tights.

"It's alright, Stoya."

She shrugged and let it be. "Not tonight, then?"

Not tonight seemed to imply tomorrow. I wasn't sure exactly what we were, after last night. Something else to think about after I'd slept.

"Not tonight," was the best I could do for now. I closed my eyes, not ready to deal with anything more tonight. She was able to get a blanket over me, and I mumbled a thank you to her. I heard her shifting about, getting undressed before she slid into bed next to me. Somehow I hadn't expected that; I blamed the concussion. She put an arm around me, and I knew, if nothing else, somehow, this was real. This wasn't a lie. The foundation wasn't strong, but it was real.

-----

I woke up with everything hurting. I could barely open my eyes and groaned at the slightest shift of my leg. Everything was dark; there was no light coming in from the window. What time was it? I felt for Stoya, but she wasn't there. I tried to sit up, but was in too much pain. Fortunately, my groans drew Stoya into the room. She opened the door and turned on the light, dressed similarly to yesterday, today with her hair back. She came and sat at the foot of the bed.

"What time is it?" I asked her, my throat dry and my voice cracking.

"About 6. P.M. You needed the sleep," she answered, putting a hand on my bad leg. I winced and she drew it back. "Sorry."

"It's alright. Give me a minute. Can you get me some water?"

She nodded and left the room. I laid back and stared at the ceiling. My head was clearer; much, much clearer. I would be able to start thinking about some things now, I knew. More, I knew where I had to start. Stoya returned with a glass of water, and I drank it all quickly. I needed that, too. I felt a little better and was able to drag myself up to sitting.

"We should talk about...this," I said.

"Us?" she responded, lifting an eyebrow. I nodded, and she shrugged.

"It doesn't have to be serious. But you showed me a side of you I'd never seen the other night, with Kate and Stacey. Something I liked."

"What's that?"

"You aren't afraid to do what you want. You impose your will on things, because you can. The consequences, other people's emotions, they don't matter. Only what you want does."

"And you like that?"

"It's power. Real power. The material aspects of power don't mean anything if you don't have the will to use them. You do. The material pieces can be obtained, but you have to be born with real power. You have it." She shrugged, that light, graceful shrug that I loved about her so much. "Power is...sexy," she finished with a self-mocking smile.

I wasn't sure what I'd gotten myself into here, but she was justifying everything I'd done to Kate and Stacey. Not that I regretted it at all, but I didn't feel the same way I had in the build up to that. I'd grown delusional, ranting and raving in my own head. I made myself invincible to my own mind, and thought that by hurting two women I didn't like I would make some kind of symbolical statement. I didn't regret driving them out of my life - I was long since done with them - but the greater implications I thought it would have had melted away for me. But Stoya was suggesting there was merit to it, and my head clear, I saw she was right. That was the most powerful thing I'd ever done - I had asserted my will without questioning it. If I was questioning it now, I was only questioning it's practicality, not it's worth or it's righteousness. That was a lasting impact. That was something important.

"So?" she said, now staring at me intently. I realized I'd been quiet for over a minute.

"I didn't expect this."

"I wasn't exactly planning on it, either. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I want this, but we should take it slow. We barely know each other."

She rolled her eyes derisively, but smiled to soften the blow. "What do you want to know? We've got all night," that said with more than a little suggestion to it.

"I have to get on my feet. Take care of some business first."

"I work for you. This is business..." she said as she started to lie down next to me. I couldn't help but smile back at her.

"I'm serious. Is Max here?"

She sighed and moved some stray hair out of her eyes. "A few floors below. You want me to get him."


"Help me get dressed first, and then yes. Bring Hiraku if he's here, as well."

---

Half an hour later, I was sitting on the couch in the living room, dressed casually and awaiting Max and Hiraku. I had taken out a pad of paper and was beginning to sketch some things on it. The first thing I'd written was "Titus" - I was convinced he was important. He had no reason to target me so aggressively in that match, when he could have gone after the others just as hard. I had written "weak" next to it - did he perceive me as weak? Was I weak? I remembered very well winning the championship not too long ago, and had fought Showtime like hell to keep it. Holmes had never done that, so what I should I be perceived as weaker than him? It didn't add up. I crossed it out. I wrote down "money" below that, wondering if he'd been paid off by someone to take me out. But he seemed too righteous for that - I believed he really wanted the title for himself. I could have believed Holmes or even Showtime getting paid off - but not Titus. I crossed that out, too. I was trying to think my way through it when the door opened and Stoya came in, leading Max and Hiraku behind her.

"I bring gifts," she said, laughter in her voice. She came over to my side and kissed me on the cheek. I saw Max raise his eyebrow at that, while Hiraku gave no outward impression of surprise.

"Max, Hiraku. You'll forgive me if I don't stand," I said, gesturing toward my leg. "You saw what my competitors did to this yesterday. Have a seat."

Max sat down, already grumbling, while Hiraku took a seat across from me.

"I saw it plain as day out there, Drake," Max began. "They were all after you from the word go. They singled you out as a target so that one of them could pick up the scraps. They were all in on it together, I'm sure of it. I've been on the phone with Dave about it all day, trying to get you a one on one rematch, but we have got one issue there."

I knew Max would be like this. I knew there was a conspiracy here as well as he did, but he hadn't been in the match. He didn't know what I knew. They weren't all allied against me, but something wasn't right. I knew Titus was the key. I needed to know what Max was talking about, though.

"What's the problem?" I asked, not remembering any issues in particular.

"Your contract," Max said with a grimace.

"Damn it. How the hell did I forget about that?"

"You got caught up in the title thing. We all did, a little bit. We were hoping you'd have the title as a negotiating piece..." He threw up his hands in slight resignation.

"Do we have an offer on the table?"

"I worked something out with Dave. It's not great, but it is reasonable for someone of your stature."

"Tell him I'll sign it. Get me a copy. And then, Max, I want you to go back to New York."

"WHAT?"

I knew he would be angry about that, but I knew how to calm him down.

"Max, I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I think we're both suffering from too many distractions. I don't like being followed around by an entourage. I hired you because I needed someone to watch my back, and I still need that, but I think Stoya will be more than sufficient for that. Keep Jason on my file, but take him with you to New York."

Max worked his jaw around, not looking mollified at all, but began to nod.

"You're right. Well, maybe you're right. I'd rather send back Stoya and stay here personally. I forgot how much I liked this life, Drake. But you're the client. What you say, goes."

I was surprised it was as easy as that. Maybe there was something Max wasn't telling me. But I meant it - he was a distraction, and I just wanted Stoya. His departure was a necessity. I had some concern, however, now that I realized he had saved me on this contract thing. I would have to make sure Stoya stayed on top of things better in the future. Max sat there for a moment longer before standing up.

"I know better than to stay where I'm not wanted. Thanks, Drake."

He shook my hand and showed himself out. Hiraku continued to look at me.

"Hiraku. I think it best if our relationship is severed for now."

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"You helped me to an important lesson, but I think you've done all you can for me."

He nodded. "If you do not desire my services, I will gladly depart."

He rose, and did not shake my hand, but showed himself out all the same. Stoya sat down at last.

"Those are two powerful men. And you just dismissed them like that," she said as she snapped her fingers.

"It was for the best. They were distractions. I have too many distractions."

She smiled coyly.

"Then what am I?"

"An extremely necessary distraction."

She laughed at that. "So it's just you and me now?"

"Yes. And I like it that way. You can handle everything Max was doing?"

She scoffed at that. "I was already doing most of it already. He just took all the credit. I had already hammered out the details of contracts that Dave would agree to depending on whether or not you were the champion after last night. I'm sure he declined to mention that to Max, of course." She blew her hair out of her face. "All men are the same." She gave me an appraising look. "Well, most men."

I glanced at her and picked up my pen and paper, returning to my old problem. She noticed it.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I'm trying to think something through. Thought writing it down would help," I replied.

"Do you think talking it through would be helpful?"

"Maybe. Let me get a little further in on it first. I'll let you know."

She nodded. "Alright. I'm going to get some work done in the bedroom. Call if you need anything."

She left the room and I returned to this problem. Titus. If he thought I was weak, he was an idiot, and I didn't believe he was an idiot. He was a former world champion, and I knew as well as anyone how hard it was to get there. You don't get there by being stupid. There's no chance he was being paid off - too much honor. But what if there was another way of manipulating him? People can be convinced of any number of things. "Honorable" people can do extremely dishonorable things, but think they're honorable. Or even the other way around. Any mindset, any code of ethics, can be twisted to make anything permissible, even necessary. Maybe Titus had somehow convinced himself that I was a more worthy target than the world championship?

I wrote down "Honor" as a way of keeping track of that thought. But I didn't like it all the way as I thought it through. There was no way that Titus actually wanted me to suffer more than he wanted the world championship. But that he was convinced that I was his number one target I had no doubt of. That could be because he wanted to make me pay for some perceived sins. But then I realized something else - Titus was a long shot to make that championship match. There was a more obvious candidate - everyone and their mother knew that Chris K.O. should have been in that match. But Titus had wound up in there instead. Was that just a random happenstance that resulted from the battle royal? I drew another line off of Titus, and wrote down "In match?". Maybe I was getting somewhere.

The more I thought about it, the more things just didn't add up. Titus targeted me in that match, but he shouldn't have been there in the first place. The answer crept up behind me slowly, but when it hit me, I knew the truth.

Someone had made sure that Titus would be in that cell. He had gotten in as a result of winning a battle royal. Not an easy match to manipulate - it would take a master. Whoever was pulling the strings here knew what they were doing - and more importantly, they were out to get me. I made another note on a different page to get footage of the battle royal - search for anything that might have a clue. Drawing another line off of Titus, I wrote down "Manipulator." It became clear as day before me.

There was something going on. Titus pursuing me with a vengeance just didn't make sense - I know he was out to get me, above and beyond the requirements of winning the match. His actions could be perceived as just doing what was necessary to win, and maybe that's true. But for some reason, whether he had been told to, or he had come to the conclusion on his own, he picked me. And he had taken the spot that was K.O.'s by right. That meant that whoever was responsible for this knew he couldn't manipulate K.O., that Chris wasn't going to respond, or wouldn't do what was necessary. In some way, they knew that he was unfit for the job. And the manipulation had something to do with the battle royal, which meant it almost certainly involved at least one of the participants.

I called out Stoya. She came, carrying a folder.

"What's up?"

"I want to talk this through with you. See what you think."

She sat down and I explained my thought process.

"I don't know, Drake. It seems like a long shot. Are you sure? Someone's out to get you?"

"I know it sounds like I'm just covering for my loss. But it isn't that. I can't shake this feeling, Stoya - I was in the emergency room, and more than half of what was done to put me in there was Titus's fault. I can't walk - that's because Titus wrecked my whole leg before Showtime finished me. He smashed my head into a chair, spent tons of time going after me. I felt it in there. He had something against me. The more I think about it, the more I think he wasn't manipulated to come after me - but someone made damn sure he was in that match. Someone knew Titus would go after me because he hates everything I am, everything I've done, and has the guts, resolve, and skill to make me suffer like I did."

Stoya sat back and thought about it for a while. "Everyone said Chris would get that title shot. The battle royal came out of nowhere..."

"This is what I'm saying. Something doesn't add up. There's a conspiracy here, Stoya - and I know I've seen them before, sometimes where they weren't, but I'm telling you, this is big, and this is for real. I just need more time to figure it out.

She looked at me seriously; I could tell by her eyes that she was considering me and my reasoning, my sanity even.

"I think you're right. This doesn't add up. I think our next step is to look at this from the other side - find out who wants you out of the picture, and try to connect the two in the middle."

I nodded, relieved she believed in me.

"That's a good idea, but I want to take this further if I can. We should get something to eat first, I'm starving."

"Good idea. I'll - "

She was interrupted by her phone chiming that she'd received an email. She opened it and read it, grunted, and looked at me.

"What?"

"They set up the card for the next shows. Surprise, surprise, you've got Titus."

As if my theories weren't strong enough before, this just supported me more. Now I had a one on one match with Titus, the man who had just finished sending me to the hospital.

"You think that's a coincidence?" I asked, sarcasm heavy in my voice.

"Of course not. What are you going to do?"

I leaned back, wincing at the pain in my ribs. I knew exactly what I was going to do.

"Titus was able to do this to me because I wasn't expecting it. He caught me off guard. I didn't expect him to be so vicious. But I know that men like him have a limited capacity for viciousness - and mine is deeper. When I get into that ring with Titus, I'm going to do to him tenfold what he did to me."

I clenched a fist, the adrenaline feeling good.

"And I'm going to get some answers."