MD 70: Wasabi Toyota and Barbosa vs. Everest and Drake Callahan

[Ty Burna]

Wasabi Toyota teams up with the man he stepped aside for to give up his Lottery spot and who he feuded with during mid-2011, Barbosa to take on Everest who has been a thorn in the side of the Chaos for a very long time. He partners up with Drake Callahan, an old foe of Ty Burna's with both men looking to show up the Chaos in their own territory. Will they be able to get through these two powerhouses or can Barbosa and Toyota put their differences aside to make Ty proud?

Deadline is Tuesday, March 20th at 11:59 PM Central Time.​

 

[Ty Burna]

Drake Callahan has been granted a 24 hour extension.

 

[Барбоса]

*An unknown editing technician is sitting in front of a whole host of computer and television screens. He appears to be working on highlight videos of Lethal Lottery and graphics for Kingdom Come, all the while watching WZCW: Best Matches of 2011 DVD and the latest episode of Our Small Horses. However, his busy, busy day is interrupted by a clearly irate Stacey Madison storming into the room. She slams a memory stick down beside the technician before ranting to no one in particular.*

Stacey Madison: Of all the biggest wastes of my time! How did I draw the assignment of asking just four measly questions to a lunatic who spent his entire time leering at me like a serial killer?

*The technician does not reply; his eyes fixated alternately on Stacey's ass and sweater meat as she stomps back and forth across the room. Stacey recognises this but before she can dole out a verbal and physical beating the door swings open again this time to admit Becky Serra. She too deposits a flash drive on the technician's table before shivering like she has seen a ghost.*

Becky Serra: I did not enjoy that interview one bit. While there was some good stuff, he made me feel very uncomfortable.

Stacey Madison: Was he leering at you like my guy was? Looking you up and down like you were a piece of meat?

Becky Serra: No, he was almost the complete opposite - he showed almost no emotion, staring into the distance and when he did take the time to answer the questions he looked me straight in the eyes with a cold, penetrating stare that shook me to my very core.

Stacey Madison: I think we should talk to Mr Burna and Mr Bateman. If we are going to have to do these kinds of interviews with people who would be best seen behind bars or in a padded cell, we should have some kind of physical protection.

Becky Serra: At the very least a rape alarm or spray can of mace.

*This planned deputation to the General Managers about dangerous work environment is interrupted by Johnny Klamor entering the room. Being old school, he places his video-taped interview down beside the technician.*

Johnny Klamor: Well, that was interesting. I only agreed to take it because it was supposed to be a short interview but I could not get him to shut the hell up. Most of it will be unbroadcastable as it is so in depth that only someone with doctorates in philosophy and critical thinking will understand half of it.

Stacey Madison: Johnny, we were just talking about the increasing number of dangerous people we are being asked to interview. You have had your fair share of trouble with violent interviewees, what do you think about going to the GMs and voicing our growing concern?

Becky Serra: Oh yeah, you had your head flushed down the toilet for bad-mouthing an Oscar-winning movie about ballet.

*Clearly, annoyed by having his embarrassment brought up, Klamor stares straight at Becky, causing her to shiver once again.*

Becky Serra: Stop that! That is the kind of stare I was getting all the time in that interview.

Stacey Madison: And that is the kind of intimidation and thinly veiled threat of or actual physical violence that we need to stand up to.

*Before Becky and Stacey can enquire more about what Klamor thinks about their adverse working conditions, the roster of interviewers is completed by the arrival of Leon Kensworth. He gives a flash drive to the technician and then after a cursory nod and smile to his congregated co-workers, Leon heads back towards the exit. However, eager to get his input, Stacey calls after him.*

Stacey Madison: I take it by your relaxed demeanour that your interview was not all that bad?

Leon Kensworth: No, it was an easy interview actually; hardly the stuff that Pulitzer Prizes are made of; in fact, it had all the hallmarks of talking to a drunk three year old but it was not a difficult job.

*Meanwhile, the technician has begun to look at all four of the interviews and after quickly viewing parts of each of them, a look of confusion washes over his face; a look that Becky notices.*

Becky Serra: What is the matter? Is there something wrong with the recording of my interview?

*The technician shakes his head in the negative.*

Stacey Madison: Then what is your problem?

*After flicking a few buttons and clicking his mouse, the technician points to the four central television screens. Each screen flickers into life, each presenting one of the recently completed interviews. The bottom right video starts up with a brief shot of Leon welcoming his guest. The picture then changes to a clearly manic Barbosa returning Leon's welcome with an idiotic wave.*

Hi there, Leon!

*Before any of the interviewers can comment on this or the increasingly obvious revelation that they are all coming to, the bottom left video begins with the beginning of Johnny Klamor's interview, as his interviewee lets out a depressive sigh before answering.*

Mr Klamor, so nice to see you again.

*The top right video then starts up with a leering Barbosa.*

Ms Madison... you look as ravishing as ever. We hope we do not scare you again... [/color]

*In the last video in the top left, a cold calculating Barbosa sits silently staring off into the distance, giving little indication that he has heard Becky Serra's welcome. After the clips end and a few brief seconds of silence pass, Leon states the obvious.*

Leon Kensworth: We were all interviewing the same guy.

Stacey Madison: That maniac Barbosa… well, that certainly explains a thing or two. He is one of the only WZCW superstars that could cause so many different kinds of uncomfortableness in so many different people…

Becky Serra: Yeah, and look at that stare in the top left - how much more uncomfortable can you get?

Stacey Madison: Maybe he could have tried putting his hand on your leg like top right did?

Leon Kensworth: So we have all or at least three of us wasted an afternoon asking the same questions to the same person…

*While the others have been commenting on the identity of their mutual pest, Klamor has been looking at the four paused pictures of Barbosa on the four separate screens. Then he nods his head in appreciation at the idea that has just entered his head.*

[color="dark green"[b]Johnny Klamor: [/b]I really am a journalistic genius. Play all of the interviews all the way through. If I know anything about Barbosa and his fractured psyche, I doubt that he has given the same answers in each of his interviews. It might look a little butchered but with a little technical wizardry and selective ordering, we can make a salvageable segment out of this fiasco.[/color]

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[b]*The picture fades in to show a four way split screen, each with the visage of Barbosa.*[/b]

[spoiler][img]http://img818.imageshack.us/img818/6995/barbosaconcept.png[/img]

[b][i]***Credit to Shotaro for this***[/b][/i][/spoiler]

[b]*Each quarter then begins to play intercut and synced portions from the four interviews. The first voice that is heard is that of Becky Serra.*[/b]

[color="darkpink"]Becky Serra: Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, please welcome my guest, former World Heavyweight Champion, Barbosa. [/color]

*The cold, calculating Barbosa she is interviewing sits silently, giving little indication that he has heard Becky Serra's welcome. However, the other Barbosas answer like they have been asked the same question with the Barbosa in the bottom left giving an idiotic wave.*

Manic: Hi there, Leon!

*In turn the remaining Barbosas give their response to the initial salutation.*

Depressive: Mr Klamor, so nice to see you again.

The Smoker: Ms Madison... you look as ravishing as ever. We hope we do not scare you again...

Leon Kensworth: Mr Barbosa, you came so close to regaining the WZCW World Heavyweight Title inside the steel cage at Lethal Lottery. What are your thoughts on what was a brutal match?

Manic: It hurt! It really hurt! He jumped all the off the top of the cage and *SPLAT* right on top of us!

The Smoker: Once again, it took someone virtually killing us in order to prevent us from winning. Kurtsey's day will come, as will ours to regain our title.

Depressive: Steven Kurtsey proved a worthy adversary, as we knew he would, but for now...

Barbosa: We have another target in mind.

Becky Serra: I assume that that other "target" is the General Manager of Meltdown, Ty Burna. Why did you decide to turn your back on the Apostles of Chaos during the Lethal Lottery, essentially biting the hand that feeds you?
*Having spent the whole time looking at neither the camera nor his interviewer, Cold Barbosa responds to this question fixing his stare at Becky Serra and answers with a steely confidence.*

Barbosa: Ty Burna is scared of me. He demonstrated that at Lethal Lottery. I will force him to show it to world again soon.

*Meanwhile, Manic Barbosa has started hyperventilating at the mention of Ty.*

Manic: We are scared of Ty Burna!

*The Smoker smirks at the question and gives something of a shrug of his shoulders.*

The Smoker: We warned him to be careful what he wished for.

Depressive: While we had warned Ty Burna to be careful, our final decision was made at Lethal Lottery. Ty had promised us the World Heavyweight Title and when he failed to live up to that promise by not giving us any aid against Kurtsey, we decided not to live up to our end of the bargain by hindering him in his quest.

The Smoker: I will do more than turn my back on Lord Burna…

Stacey Madison: You might say that now but this week on Meltdown, as per the order of Mr Burna, you once again team with the giant Wasabi Toyota, someone with whom you have had a long and varied interaction, as you take on the team of Drake Callihan and the former World Heavyweight Champion, Everest. What are your thoughts?

Manic: Everest has beaten us before but we too have held the big shiny belt! Drake is kinda funny when he is on his silly juice and we like Wasabi a lot. He allowed us to enter the Lethal Lottery!

The Smoker: Fat bastard... and who the hell is Alexander Steele anyway?

Depressive: Acquaintances old and new stand across the ring from us - Everest, something of a forgotten man in recent times, despite his compunction to win when it matters and Drake Callihan, who we have recently squared off against. One with recent problems with the Apostles and the other with what looks like a burgeoning problem emerging with his Kingdom Come future at "Ty Burna's discretion." However, this match is less about our opponents as it is about our partner and his master. We feel that Toyota's loyalties remain suspect - we doubt that he is with us but we also highly doubt that he is firmly with the Apostles. Ty may think he is setting us up, but he may get more than he bargained for once again...

*Cold Barbosa does not give any opinion on the upcoming tag match or those involved in it.*

Johnny Klamor: Is there anything you would like to add before we wrap up?

*The Smoker, Manic and Depressive all respond with the same phrase. The video intercuts their shared response on top of each other.*

Manic: He has...
Depressive: He has…
The Smoker: He has…

*Stacey Madison, Leon Kensworth and Johnny Klamor all give the same answer, which is again intercut on top of each other.*

Johnny Klamor: "He?"
Leon Kensworth: "He?"
Stacey Madison: "He?"

*As the other Barbosas give their own varying renditions of a smile, the four-way spilt screen is slowly replaced by just that of Cold Barbosa.*

Barbosa: I have a prophecy for you, Lord Burna.

You have made a fine little kingdom for yourself through inspiring fear in others but now it is your own fear that will be your downfall. Not of Kurtsey or Big Dave. Not even of a potential traitor from within...

No, it is fear of something you think you have helped create; fear of something you thought you could control.

Fear of me.

And it is that fear that will ensure your downfall; for having seen that fear once, I want... no, I need to see it again and like any addict I will do anything, destroy anything in order to get my fix.

No doubt, much like this week, you will place your disciples betweeen you and I but that will only accelerate the inevitable for no sooner will it have begun that your chaotic order will crumble into dust as I make apostates out of each one of your Apostles, as I demonstrate to them just how fearful you.

And like any good prophecy, it ends with an apocalyptic meeting where you and I will come face to face in the ruins of your order. And once the final dust is settled, I will see that fearful look sweep across your eyes once again and only then will I be satiated.

You may be the Harbinger of Chaos, but I am the Harbinger of Doom - your doom, Lord Burna.

So it is written, so it will come to pass.

 

[michigan]

A huge expensive conference table sits in the middle of an expansive and elegant room. Eight chairs surround the table and a phone sits by the edge of the table. Just to the left we can see the WZCW.com sign and finally we see Everest pacing in the background. He looks up and sees the camera. He walks right up to the edge of the table and leans against it with the phone to his left.

EVEREST: Any idea where Becky is? She was supposed to be here for this interview.

WZCW TECH: No sir, last I heard she was going to interview Barbosa and then head over here.

EVEREST: Oh nice, there’s an interview that will take twice as long. Who knows how many people she will have to talk to just to get a coherent conversation. Let’s get started then. I’ll warn you though I’m expecting a very important call about some spokesperson position.

Anyway it seems that this week the Chaos Aristocrats have decided they need to hone there skills against the best competition there is. Oh forget it, lets just get to it, Meltdown it’s going to be Everest and Drake Callahan against Wasabi Toyota and Barbosa.

Keeping this simple I’m not going to go into some crazed tirade about teaching them respect or showing them that I’m still as good as ever. I’m sure everyone has already heard all those clichés and are tired of hearing them over and over. The fact is I had several great quips about Toyota including one of him and a Golden Corral or another about him mistakenly getting sold at a Toyota dealership in Pasadena to some little old lady, but I’m not going there this week.

You see…

Just then the phone rings, Everest abruptly stops his conversation and grabs the phone, he motions to the camera that he will be just a minute.

EVEREST: Hello? Yes this is Everest. A spokesperson? Sure I’d love to, you know that I’ve represented several high profile products such as Converse, Rent a Center, Wal Mart and Coca Cola. Yes sir. Alright, what’s that? 1.25 Million? Absolutely. I’ll tell you what, I’ll get my agent on the phone and he will get a hold of you. By the way, I may have missed this but who did you say you were with?

There is an absurdly long, almost comedic pause in the conversation. Everest’s expression goes from one of wide smiling and excitement to one of disgust and anger and it does so in an almost slow motion sequence. Finally the pause is broken by Everest’s scream into the phone…

EVEREST: THE AARP? You Son of a Bitch! I’m going to……….

With that Everest slams the phone down, completely misses the headset and the phone ends up in pieces all across the marble floor as the camera slowly pans back up to Everest who is PISSED!

EVEREST: THE NEXT TIME I SEE TITUS, I am going to kick that little Son of a Bitch right in the head and then pour scolding coffee down the front of his pants while melting down his damn Oscar and using it to make a Gold Piss Cup and relieve myself in it.

In the background we can hear the cameraman snickering and trying to hold his laughter, until Everest notices.

EVEREST: You really think it’s a good idea to be laughing at the moment, considering you are out here in the middle of nowhere at my mansion where I could bury the body and no one would give a plumb green rat’s ass.

You know what, at Meltdown I’m going to take my anger out on those worthless pieces of crap across the ring from me and Callahan. I hope Drake brings his A game because it’s going to take both of us and probably a small army to stop Toyota. Maybe just maybe I can get one of those sushi chefs from Tokyo Steakhouse to set up shop outside the ring as a distraction. All kidding aside this one is going to be a hell of a problem at Meltdown. Barbosa is a former champion and we all know Toyota is someone not to be messed with. As much as I might respect their in ring abilities I still can’t stand the fact that they want to throw their hats into the ring with that worthless piece of crap Burna but hey choices are choices.

At Meltdown Everest and Callahan are going to finally put a dent into the Apostles little hold on this company. The beginning of the end is coming for their little reign of terror and it’s going to start on Meltdown. Until then though, I’m going to hunt down Titus and throw him in the penguin pit at the zoo and watch them peck his eyes out.

Or maybe, what a minute…..

With that Everest’s face lights up as he bolts out the door. We hear him one last time.

EVEREST: Jasmine? Where’s the number to the Oscar committee? Oh this is going to be classic.

With that the scene fads out to the WZCW.com logo.

 

[Harthan]

(The following takes place a few nights before the Lethal Lottery)

“So you’re telling me that the candy making industry is all a conspiracy?”

“Oh yeah. Most people don’t know this, but candy bars just grow on trees down in South America.”

“So why not just pick the candy bars and sell them?”

“Don’t you see? If you pretend that you have to make them in factories, process ingredients, do the whole shebang, you can mark up the prices and turn an insane profit. It would be genius if it weren’t so darn devious.”

“And how did you discover this information?”

Drake Callahan grins widely and raises one finger. He takes a quick sip of wine before continuing, as Kate looks at him expectantly, a half smile on her face.

“I cannot reveal my sources, other than to say that they are most reliable.”

“Uh huh. So why hasn’t someone broken this conspiracy yet? Seems pretty simple to expose.”

“The Food Network.”

Kate, despite herself, laughs at the latest revelation. She shakes her head and cuts off another piece of her steak. Drake might be crazy and certainly wasn’t the most intelligent man she’d ever met, but at least with his recent success and higher profile in wrestling he was making good money, she reflected as she ate in one of the finest restaurants in the city.

“Do go on,” she says with just the slightest bit of sarcasm in her voice.

“Have you ever seen that channel? They have shows where they go into factories and watch them make candy. Detailed, hour long documentaries. They’re thorough, if nothing else.”

“So what does the Food Network get out of it?”

“They’re not the independent organization they claim to be. They’re just a puppet, an arm of the Candy Men.”

“…You’re serious about that name?”

“Of course. No one knows what they call themselves, but that’s what those of us in the know call them on the outside.”

Kate cuts off another piece of steak and chuckles. Why am I here? She wonders, but her answer is immediate. This is fun. This is nice. No complications. No posturing. This is…easy. Easy in a way that it had never been before. So what if the conversation was meaningless, empty fluff that was likely the concoction of a mind that had positively stewed in alcohol for most of its adult life? It was so much better than both of them pretending to care about something neither of them did. So what if Drake was uncouth and messy? He was honest about himself, at least. So much better than everyone lying about themselves.

Drake, meanwhile, has polished off the bottle of wine – their second of the night – and has called the waiter over.

“So, you haven’t got any beer?”

“No, sir.”

“I mean, it’s out of the question for you to run to the convenience store on the corner, pick me up a six pack?”

“Entirely, sir.”

“Alright,” Drake says glumly with a bit of a sigh. He grabs the wine list off the table. “Alright. We’ll have the, er…Chat-too Hot Serget Pome-roll? You guys really call wine weird stuff in these fancy joints.”

The waiter coughs, his eyes looking strained. Kate grabs the list delicately.

“The Chateau Haut-Surget Pomerol, please.”

“Of course, madame. Your gentleman friend struggles with the French, it seems?” The waiter has achieved the perfect balance of polite deference and smarmy bastardry, complete with the kind of smile that would make anyone want to punch him square in the mouth.

Kate gives her sweetest smile back at him. “Well, at least he isn’t a waiter.”

The waiter laughs lightly in as fake a way as possible. “I’m positive I’ve never heard that one before. How droll.” He retreats, though Kate catches a glimpse of a rather rude gesture that was pointed in an ambiguous fashion in their general direction, though no one, of course, could say for certain.

She turns back to Drake. He suddenly looks a little down as he swirls the remnants of the wine in his last glass. A few silent moments pass as the waiter returns and pours them both new glasses of wine.

“Sorry,” he says suddenly, almost mumbling.

“What? What did you do?”

“I’m embarrassing you.”

“Not at all. So what, you can’t pronounce French words? You make ten times what that guy makes. And you’re a hell of a lot nicer.” She pauses for a moment, then adds, “Better looking, too.”

Drake looks up at her, his eyes gleaming. “You really think so?”

Kate bites her lip a little. Dammit, why did I say that? Now we’re flirting. Or have we already been flirting? If we’re flirting, then this is going somewhere I’m not sure I want it to. Or do I? Crap, he’s staring. Say something, already.

“Um. Yes. You’re…very handsome, Drake.” He beams at her, and she finds herself smiling back, her nervousness forgotten. Stop fighting it, already. This is good.

She glances at Drake and he’s still staring at her. Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. “Um, so, uh, what about Willy Wonka?”

Drake raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“The, er, Candy Men. Where’s Willy Wonka fit in?”

“Oh! Right, right. Willy Wonka, you know, did you know Willy Wonka was a real person?”

Grateful that they’ve moved on, Kate cuts off another piece of steak and shakes her head. “No, I didn’t.”

“Everything in that movie was true, but nobody believed it. That’s the horrible part. Why don’t you think Willy Wonka ever really let anyone into the factory? Because it was all fake, of course. But he was so arrogant, so devious, that he decided to let in five kids and then murder them all, except for one, who he made into his protege to take over the leadership of the Candy Men. All of it true, but so absurd, made out to be a fantasy, and no one believed it. Madness, I tell you, madness.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“Oh, well, I mostly just tell anyone willing to listen all about it. I figure eventually I’ll tell enough people that someone else will get around to stopping them. Someone like President Nader, maybe.”

Kate stops in the act of chewing to stare at Drake, her head slightly cocked.
“President…Nader? As in, Ralph Nader?”

“Sure, sure, I mean, the President has to be able to do something about them, right? I’ve even been writing letters personally, but he never writes back. He must be busy, being President, of course.”

“Drake, uh…Ralph Nader isn’t the President.”

“What? What are you talking about? He’s been President for years now.”

“Who told you that?”

“The kindly gentlemen I met in the subway one night.”

“Was this kindly gentlemen a hobo? Perhaps an insane one?”

“Look, just because a guy enjoys the occasional rat, and hasn’t bathed in a year, doesn’t make him a hobo.”

“Drake.”

“What!”

“You should know better than to get your news from a man in the subway.”

Drake frowns and moves the remnants of his dinner around on the plate. “It just sounded so nice. He said that now that Nader was President, the aliens would come down from the sky and tell us the secret to the Pyramids.”

This is the man you’re thinking about…what? Dating? Loving? Anything? Two minutes with your mother and she’ll have you committed.

Shaking her head, she just smiles and says. “Look, Drake, maybe you should watch CNN every now and then. Barack Obama is the President.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Okay, look, when we get back to your place tonight, we’re turning on CNN, okay?”

“…when we get back to my place?”

Crap. Crap crap crap.

“Um.”

“Wow, I mean, I’d hoped dinner would impress you and you’d come back with me tonight, but I figured I would at least have to ask.”

“Um.”

I could just say no. But that’ll crush him, and that’ll end this right now, and I don’t want it to end. Not now. But I don’t want to move forward that quicky. But he did spend an awful lot on dinner, and he is funny, and he is charming, and dammit, I have fun with him…

Looking for something to do, Kate moves to cut her steak, only to find unexpectedly that it was gone. Crap.

“So…are we ready to go?”

She looks into Drake’s eyes. They’re full of life, passion, happiness, and a simple kindness. Not like men’s eyes she’d looked into before, that just wanted something from her. That’s what decided it for her. She smiles back at Drake.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

-----

“Welcome to the palace.”

Drake opens up the door of his apartment and lets Kate enter first. She steps inside and Drake flips on a light behind him. Kate’s stomach feels full of butterflies ready to burst out at any moment. Every minute in the car had weakened her resolve to go through with it. She just couldn’t sleep with Drake. Not now. She had to figure out so much about this before she could even think of committing to something like that.

“Drake –“

“Hm?”

“Look, I don’t think I can do this. I’m so sorry.”

Drake turns around and looks at her, hurt in his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“Drake, listen, don’t take this the wrong way. You’re funny, you’re sweet, you’re honest, charming, you’re a million great things, but you’re also crazy, dangerous, unstable, and I’m not even sure you know what year it is. And I’m not interested in a one night stand, I want a relationship, which means that if we sleep together then I want it to be a commitment to us being together, but I don’t know if we can be together because I have to figure out so much about myself, and you, and us, and I’m so sorry, but I just can’t have sex with you tonight, Drake. Please understand.” She takes a deep breath, having said all of that in one breath, and waits for Drake to yell, or just tell her to leave, or whatever, tears in her eyes waiting for all of this to end. Way to go, Kate.

Drake just stares at her for a moment. “I didn’t want to have sex with you, Kate.”

It takes a few moments for that to process, and Kate’s only reaction to it is an incredulous, “What?!”

Drake nervously backpeddles. “Look, Kate, you’re really, really pretty and I’d love to do that with you, but I mean, I’m sure not interested in a one night stand either, and besides, I’d never try to do anything before I’m sure you’re ready, and I can tell that you’re not ready, even though I sure am, but it’s okay, Kate, I can wait as long as you want for you to figure out whatever you need to figure out.”

Still not fully grasping the situation, but yet immensely relieved, Kate can only manage, “But then…why did you ask me back to your place?”

“Well, for one, you suggested it. And for two, I thought maybe once we got done watching CNN we could watch some My Little Pony together – seriously, Kate, have you seen this show?”

He doesn’t want to have sex with you. For God’s sake, he wants to watch cartoons. He’s a child. No, no, he’s a man, just a good one. Better than most. Better than any I’ve met, anyway.

Kate takes a deep, shuddering breath and wipes away her tears. “That sounds..wonderful, Drake. Maybe we can just skip CNN and get right to the show? It sounds like a lot of fun.”

Drake smiles widely and inanely. “Oh, yeah, I was hoping you’d say that. I have the best episode.”

He gestures for her to sit on the couch as he pops in a DVD and manipulates a few remotes to get the show started.

“Okay, so, my favorite is Fluttershy…”

----

(Several days later, sometime after the Lethal Lottery)

*Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*

“Urgh.”

*Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*

“ERGH!”

*Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*

“HRNGH!”

*BEEP*

“You have reached ‘Drake Callahan’. Please leave a message after the tone.” *BEEP*

“Hey, Drake, this is Kate…I’ve left a couple of messages now and you haven’t gotten back to me. I know you must be devastated at losing in the lottery but shutting yourself up like this isn’t good. And I’m also getting really worried about you, too. Call me back and we’ll get dinner or something, okay? Please call as soon as you get this.” There’s a slight pause as if she was considering what to say next. “Um. Bye.”

That was the third time in as many days that the phone had rung and the answering machine had picked up a similar message from Kate, but Drake couldn’t bear to talk to her. He couldn’t bear to talk to anyone. He hadn’t left the apartment since staggering back after his flight landed and he went on a drinking binge after losing in the lottery. He’d put everything into it, dedicated everything he had to winning, and he still lost. And to Blade, no less, making it even worse.

He’d just stayed in the apartment, sleeping mostly, eating only when he was desperate, and drinking everything he had on hand. He’d received another message, the WZCW offices informing him of his match against Alex Bowen, and then another later informing him about the tag team match that he was in instead. He hadn’t cared. He had no intention of booking a flight or showing up to the match. He was done. He’d lost the lottery, the only that meant anything. His only shot at a championship. The only reason he’d come back. It was gone, and he was done.

He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes a little. He needed a drink. The bottle of whiskey next to his bed was empty, but he had a few more in the kitchen. His desire for alcohol outweighed his desire to sit in bed and do nothing, so he staggered up, flipped on a light and began to look for the booze.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Drake looked at the door to his apartment dully.

“Go away,” he tries.

“Open up this door right now, Drake!”

Drake furrowed his brow and wondered at the voice beyond the door. It sounded vaguely familiar.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Joe, goddammit! Now open up!”

Oh, shit. Drake realized he’d forgotten entirely about training with Joe. Not that it mattered, since he was retiring anyway. Or quitting. Whatever.

“I don’t need you anymore, Joe. I’m qutting.”

“Don’t give me your sad sack bullshit! Open up the door or I’ll knock it down!”

Drake ignores him and goes for the whiskey, preparing to shut off the light as the door is suddenly jarred violently as if someone had run into it.

“You’re serious?!”

“Deadly serious! Now open up!”

Drake rushes over to the door and opens the door, revealing a mad as hell Joe standing in the doorway, huffing and puffing and red of face. He barges in and slams his hands down on the nearby table.

“There is one thing above all other things I cannot stand, Drake. And that is a liar. You told me you would meet me to train at an agreed upon time, and an agreed upon place, and without any good excuse, you did not appear. That makes you a liar.”

Drake sits down at the table, almost about to apologize, but the drink newly In his system makes him bold, and he says, “You know what, Joe, I don’t answer to you. So I lied. I’ll lie to you if I want.”

Drake suddenly finds himself on the floor, the side of his face erupting in pain after Joe delivers a swift right hook.

“Lesson number one. You do answer to me, if you want me to train you. Lesson number two. You act like an idiot, I’ll punch you right in the goddamn face.”

Drake considers rising up angrily and fighting, but all the strength goes out of him and he just lies dully on the floor.

“I don’t want you to train me. I quit.”

“Get off the floor.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Joe kicks him in the side. Drake coughs violently.

“Jesus. Fine, fine, I’m up, alright?”

“Sit down.”

Drake sits down as Joe takes a seat across from him at the table.

“Now. Explain to me, without being an idiot, why you want to quit. Though I suspect I already know the answer.”

“I lost. I put everything I had into the lottery. I had a plan. I was going to win, then go on to Kingdom Come and become the champion. It was everything I needed, everything I wanted, and it was my only shot. I lost it all. There’s no point in going on.”

Joe fumes silently for a moment before speaking in a deadly calm, even tone. “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

Drake raises his hands.

“You just don’t get it, Joe. What am I supposed to do now? I staked everything on that match, and I lost.”

“So you’ll never get a shot at the title again, is that it?”

“Well, no, but –“

“As I recall, you do in fact have an opportunity to enter the King for a Day match by winning next week.”

Drake runs a hand through his hair.

“Well, yeah, but –“


“But nothing! Maybe you did put everything you had into that match, but it’s not your last opportunity, anything but! You’re letting one victory end you, when it should be motivating you. So you didn’t get what you wanted the first go around. Welcome to life, kid. You know what your problem is? The last time you were here, WZCW wasn’t half as competitive as it is now. You got everything you wanted like it was cake. You probably would have been champion, and you’ve have just waltzed into it. Well guess what, sunshine? That ain’t so anymore, and if you want so much as a shot at a shot, you’re gonna have to work for it. So you lost the lottery? Too damn bad. Now pick your head up and get back to work. Work hard. Win matches. Beat everyone you can and keep doing it until they can’t do anything about it, and then get your title shot, and do every goddamn thing you can to win that match. That’s how you become a champion.”

Drake sits sullenly for a moment before speaking. “It’s just…I worked so hard. I put so much into it. I tried everything I could, fought as hard as I could, and it wasn’t good enough. I don’t know that I can ever put as much of myself into anything else again.”

“Sometimes that’s life. But you can’t let it beat you. You have to keep working, and find a way to win again.”

Drake nods and lifts the whiskey to take a drink. Joe stares disapprovingly.

“I told you to lay off that.”

“No can do. I need this.”

“It’s a crutch.”

“Well then let me lean on it. I can’t be perfect overnight.”

Joe purses his lips.

“No. I guess you can’t.” He sighs and claps his hands together. “Alright, then. You’re giving up this retirement nonsense? You’ll be at the show, then?”

“Yeah. I…I still don’t feel good about it, but I think maybe if I go wrestle a match I’ll feel better about everything. Getting a win would help too.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. First, we have business.”

Drake nods as Joe pulls out a notebook.

“I was going to go over all this when we trained, but now is as good a time as any. First off, we will be doing training later. Tomorrow. And you will be there.”

Drake nods.

“Good. Now then, we have business of a less physical nature to attend to. First off, I want to formalize our arrangement.”

“I still barely know you.”

“You let me punch you in the jaw without retaliating. You already trust me, that much is obvious.”

Drake knew he was right, though he couldn’t explain it. “Fine. So, what, you want me to sign a contract with you as my trainer?”

“More than that. I want to be your manager. Trainer, agent, representative. The whole thing.”

Drake shrugs. “What’s in it for me?”

“I take care of the logistics. Contracts, payments, flights, appearances, everything. Frees you up to focus on the wrestling.”

“Works for me.”

“Good. Next item. You got a girlfriend?"

“Er. Well, I have a friend who is a girl, but it’s kind of complicated. Why does that matter?”

“I’ve found in the past that having a girl gives a guy a release. A place to take his problems, a person to help him out. It’s good for your attitude. Think Miss Complicated can do that for you?”

“Yeah. That’ll work.”

“Good. I want her at the shows eventually. If it’s too complicated now, work on it and make it happen soon. All the great fighters had entourages. Girlfriends, managers, close personal friends. You got any close personal friends?”

“Uh. Not really.”

Joe snorts. “Well, a girlfriend and a manager is a start. We’ll figure out the rest. Right, then, let’s talk about your match, then, shall we? You need to scout your opponents better, I can tell that already. You rely too much on dumb luck and winging it. Scout out what’s going on ahead of time, and you’ll be better prepared to win when it comes to crunch time.”

Drake nods, taking it all in.

“First things first. Your partner, Everest. What do you think?”

“He’s the best. He’s been around forever, won the world title more than once…as good a partner as I could ask for.”

“Not quite. He’s losing a lot lately, I’ve noticed. I don’t know what his problem is lately, but he’s lost a step and that’s bad news for you. Don’t rely on him. Let him take his share of the work, but keep a sharp eye on what he’s doing in the ring and at the first sign of trouble, tag in. If he shows signs of falling behind, don’t tag out unless you’re desperate. Might be he’ll bounce back and be an asset to you here, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

Drake takes a long drink of whiskey as he absorbs the info.

“Now then. Barbosa and Toyota. What do you think?”

“Both of them are big. Toyota’s huge. Everest and I have to move quickly, outmove them, outwrestle them, and outthink them. Still, I’d rather be in there with Toyota than Barbosa. Toyota might be big, but his record lately isn’t as solid as Barbosa’s. Toyota is a lackey. Barbosa just got done making an extended run in the lottery and nearly winning the world title in a cage match. And he was champion not too long ago at all.”

“Good man. The situation there is volatile. Toyota and Barbosa have no love lost for one another. They’ve fought each other in the past and now they find themselves on opposite sides of a little war between Barbosa and Ty. Use that to your advantage. Wait for the tension between them to build, and then exploit it. And I wouldn’t be so sure about preferring Toyota to Barbosa. Keep in mind that Barbosa’s likely to be exhausted from all that work at the pay per view. Remember to use every advantage you can to win.”

Drake nods.

“Anything else?”

“Yes. I know how badly you want to win this week, but remember what you have next. A qualifier for King for a Day. That’s your golden ticket at a championship shot. So don’t compromise yourself in this one. Don’t get hurt doing something stupid just to try to win.”

“Yeah.”

Drake keeps drinking and stares off in the corner.

“Alright. We’re done here. I want you to call your girlfriend. My guess is there’s a bunch of messages on your answering machine from her and she’s worried sick. It’ll be good for both of you to get together and talk.”

Drake smiles. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Joe.”

“It’s what I’m here for, kid. Now get to it.”

Joe takes his leave without another word and leaves Drake in the center of his kitchen. He takes one more drink and grabs his cell phone. He dials Kate’s number, a smile on his face as he does so.