For A Phoenix To Rise. (W/ Dionysus, 3928 words)
Feb 7, 2021 23:29:11 GMT -5
James Nightingale, Carter Shaw, and 1 more like this
Post by Downfall on Feb 7, 2021 23:29:11 GMT -5
The nervous energy from two-thirds of the trio vibrated in time with the roaring V-8 as the old girl gunned down the highway. After numerous weeks benched, after a tremendous amount of bodywork and parts scavenged, the jet-black 67' Corvette 427 rode again, it's hell-engine furious. It streaked through the humid night, a shrieking, reborn firebird.
The third man, twitchy eyes glancing over their shoulders, had companionably sat between them. Now he grimaced at the quiet underneath his mask; it had been an hour since they'd even talked.
"Just gonna turn on the radio," Alec murmured, and he stretched out to turn the knob.
Daniel's hand slapped it back, shortly, irritably.
And the smoldering, angry detente reigned in the front seat once more. Alec sank back against the back-well of the cramped space, mumbling, "Well I don't even know why we came on this little road trip if you're gonna be rude..."
And the looming, large figure in the cravat raised a ginger brow. "Yes, Daniel, why are we taking this scenic route? And where, exactly, are we going?"
There's a long, pregnant pause as both Alec and Dionysus give a look to the man behind the wheel. His eyes are flinty chips behind his black mask. The eyes give away nothing, he's as guarded as he ever is.
There's even a second, trying to read the inscrutable glance, that Dion has to remark out loud, only half-jokingly, "Am I being taken to some Lost Breed site to be disposed of?"
A beat.
Daniel grunts, a passing wave of weary disgust, before his voice rises, "Ya know, people connect me to all of this extralegal bullshit with Nightingale and Sanchez and draw all of these conclusions; and still, months later, I'm forced to listen to this shit about 'taking orders from Nightingale', about not having a thought without his say-so, and it is -"
Alec is agog that his normally walled-off acquaintance was even able to articulate such an emotionally honest and open venting of his inner frustration - to Dionysus, no less, a man he'd never shown anything but disdain for. Dionysus, for his part, presses on, forceful.
"Oh, I'm sorry, champ, are you sad because the group of killers and anarchists you joined up with have a shady reputation?" his voice has just enough of the heat that passed between them in their wars over the Television championship. "You joined them, remember? Willingly."
"They recruited me, and there was no talk of - You know what, no, I don't need to justify this." He fixes his eyes back on the road.
"So you didn't know? About these accusations Carter Shaw came out with?" Dionysus queries, "About the human trafficking ring? About any of it? Daniel... when you came here, didn't you meet a victim of human trafficking?"
"Don't you have a kid at home?"
He's quiet for a second, but it does all line-up. He'd met Serenity at a stop not far from his new chosen home and saved her from being pulled into a van. The ring responsible was run by a Ukrainian mobster with deep pockets and deep connections. And then, weeks later, he'd been chosen to be part of the Lost Breed... it had enough curious sense timeline-wise that it told him he'd have some serious questions to ask Sanchez.
He sighed, "No, Dion... I'm not gonna black-bag you, shoot you in the head and throw you in a ditch at some MS-13 site."
Dion splays his fingers magnanimously out to the road in front of them. "Then where are we going?"
"I've given a lot of thought. To you, and to me." As they study each other, Daniel's voice takes on it's rough, blunt edge he'd used to dissect an opponent. "When I first met you, I took exception to... well, a lot of what you are. Actor, corporate type, hardcore type..."
He sees Dionysus starting to come sharply with a rebuttal, and he compensates for it by saying "But out of everyone I've faced, even Ash Blake; it was you that sticks in people's minds as pushing me the hardest. Why is that?"
Dionysus looks out the passenger window, and he snidely rejoinders, "Well maybe it's because they know that I'm more like you than you admit."
He shoots Dionysus the bingo pointer. "(Even if I don't believe that) - there's something there. Now think about all of our battles... how every time I put you down, you emerged stronger."
"You went from doing nothing with Chad Ford, and then by the time I'd beaten you thrice you were knocking off Baker."
"I'm saying, Dion... something about us drives you to be better."
Dionysus' smile is wry under his mask, he isn't ready to thank Downfall for pushing him in quite that manner. "Thank you so much for your cutting insight and motivational techniques..."
"That's what I'm saying, Dion... You're up on your mythology... think about the phoenix, who shed a layer of its own charred flesh to peck its way through the shell... and be reborn in a blaze of glory."
Dion chews that over, starting to say something a few times, before pinching his brows together, snapping "You're pretty damned theatrical yourself, you know that?"
Alec cuts in, chummy and intimate, patting Dionysus, "Oh boy, IS he, this guy, with his poetry sometimes, I - "
"Daniel, who is this person?" Dionysus points to the back-well.
Masked, Daniel smiles, but he cranes his head and verifies the exit he's taking.
"So, this 'flight of the phoenix', where does it lead us?" Dionysus asks.
Instead of answering directly, Daniel merges exit. "So again, when we were picked as a Battlebowl team, I had to consider options here."
"Could pull a Trios redux and betray me, join a 'Lost Breed', right?" Dionysus asks sanguinely. But his compeer's mouth lines in regret.
"That's the thing... it's been a long time since I've been a real part of a team, Dion. Of something bigger than just me, or me working with someone I didn't intend to screw over before they screwed me over." He thinks of the last time he'd been invited to be part of a team.
Right off the bat, Kidsgrove had invited him to be a part of a movie that would never get made and... it felt so forced.
"I see. And we'll find a... team-building exercise, a couples retreat wherever we're headed?"
"No... but... we are going to find healing. And maybe, some kind of togetherness."
"What's the point if this 'team' of ours is only a temporary affair, if it lasts at all?"
As they're pulling in to a residential area, Daniel finally answers. "Because maybe there was some value in motivating you to rise with me all this time."
A quick show of hands to everyone in the room; how many are familiar with the ever-expanding universe that is Star Trek? The continuing saga centered around the Federation and its chaotic, yet somehow competent command structure, starring a number of actors that will likely be relegated to co-existing with science fiction conventions? Where new species are met, alliances are tested, and galactic peace always seems off in the distant future?
...Forgive me; I can't help but feel a connection to the series as a whole and this upcoming match.
You see, in many ways, this match is very representative of many of the Star Trek superpowers. Now, I know what you're thinking; "Dionysus, you narcissistic ninny, there's no way you can compare yourself to the Federation in any way shape for form!" And you'd be correct; nor was I going to. But we'll get to me in a moment. Lets instead look to the opposition, see where they stand in the grand Trek scheme. After all, you're always seeing the universe from the perspective of the Federation, and not from any group that is truly interesting.
Now, there are three major groups involved in this match-up; The Lost Boys, The Following, and Philidor Holdings. The easiest one to pin down would be Carter Shaw, of course; his snake-like essence makes him a perfect fit as the Cardassian Empire in this grand game. Known for their tenacity and capability of being underhanded, all under the guise of the perceived just, yet still under the stranglehold of a more powerful entity in the Dominion (this is where the Philidor connection comes in, you see). Sure, Mr. Shaw, I can see how you would want to play nice with your Philidor friends...or perhaps they're co-workers?Family?Jonestown brethren? Never could figure out the standing you lot have. Regardless, I can see the benefit of having earnest allies at your disposal to ensure that your position is well kept. Soon enough, however, you will start to get that itch for control over your life once more, and that All-In briefcase is all too tempting to utilize when your earnest co-worker is sitting pretty at the top of the food chain.
Kyle Kemp, on the other hand, has a seemingly simple message...at first. Deep down, however, you know there is more to the man's cunning, as he too jockeys for control over his quadrant of the wrestling ring. In many ways, very reminiscent of the Romulan Empire; having carved out an incredible niche in the galaxy, they look to use secretive tactics and brilliant maneuvers, all under the guise of playing fairly within their fence. You never truly know what Kemp is going to be up to, the grand schemer who deceived tens of thousands during the last Havoc Rumble, and now looking to finally carve out his own path into the singles game.
Given that these two are similar, one would be forgiven in thinking they would make for a formidable team, and most certainly by paper they are. A dominant tag team champion pairing up with one of the most important men in the ring, face-to-face with two men that, only weeks ago, were ready to rip each other apart from collar to codpiece. However, the analogy still holds up; Cardassians and Romulans war with one another quite frequently, and as a result, clear animosity is on display. Sure, in Kemp's case it is continuing the trend of holding the line against the HR Department, but think for a moment; would you allow your allies to keep being repelled over and over again? A perfect opportunity presents itself for the Cardassian presence to strike at a powerful opposition, and an unfortunate state of affairs for our two empires as a whole.
Downfall and I, on the other hand? That one is easy. While we war, it is without anger or disappointment at each other. What it is is simply thus; we are warriors, honor bound to do battle. Yes, naturally, I'm going to compare the both of us to the Klingons; still with its own set of problems and in-fighting, but ultimately remembering that it is not for our own personal glory that we necessarily fight, but rather for the glory of the empire!
...Also, we have two dicks. Each. Checkmate, Team Shemp.
I'm sure people are going to look at this pairing and compare it to two unruly brothers looking with pouting faces at their parents while wearing an "Our Get Along Shirt," thinking that there is zero chemistry between us, that due to our heated past we will be unable to co-exist even as a team.
And therein lies the rub.
That won't happen.
Think for a moment; what is the best way to know your partner's strengths and weaknesses? Is it strictly watching them in the ring, or is it experiencing them firsthand? When you go to a car dealership, do you just take the first car you see and hope for the best?
Of course not!
You go for a test drive.
You continue to get up when you have been bested, to learn and find new methods to take them down. Those battles, nay, those wars prepared us for the match that is to come, and certainly puts us at a much better advantage than any other team in this contest.
So go ahead, Team Shemp; use as much stoogely cunning as you wish. For in the end, a united front with divided forces cannot hope to stand against the glorious might of the Double D Empire!
Q'APLA!!!!
She answers the knock on the door, pulling her robe around her, clad in leggings and hair a messy bun and still for just a second she's as beautiful as she was the first time he saw her.
Then, Michelle's eyes wash over the trio at her doorstep, the emotions sea-changing moment-by-moment as she's taking in the faces of Daniel (softness) Dionysus (confusion, then dim recognition) and then Alec (long-held bitterness and disgust she can't move past).
She turns back to Daniel, patient gaze saying wordlessly you could've called, you know. But she senses the urgency in his stance.
"Chelle," his voice is even.
"Lovely to meet you, I'm sorry about the intrusion," Dionysus cuts in, "I have no idea why we're here, but it is a shame to interrupt your evening." He proffers a handshake, and Michelle takes it, greatly amused.
"Careful, sparky," Daniel warns. And the two men lock eyes for a second.
Michelle, with the veteran instincts of a boss who managed a team of wrestlers - and more than a few thugs - senses the tensions. "You came to talk teaming."
"Your acumen for this was spot-on... when Jason and I started tagging, you were the glue that took us to our first title win in the US. How did you do it, 'Chelle? How did you take two disparate people on separate tracks and make'em work together? You..." and he looks away, "You were the best of us."
She's touched, despite herself, but then when Alec speaks it's as grating as nails on glass, and her eyes slit, ruining the moment. "I was always happy to interview you - "
She turns back to Daniel, "But why did you bring - him."
Alec protests, but it's Dionysus who steps forward curtly. "Daniel, I'm so happy you called me to come out here and disturb a young woman in the middle of the night. But this is going nowhere. So," bowing to Michelle, "Thank you, madam, and with that, I'll -"
Daniel grabs Dionysus' lapel, "Hey, Spartacus, you aren't walking away from this -"
Alec, whining, "How many times do I have to apologize for being in a dark place, I'm sorry, I - "
Downfall and Dionysus, face to face, nearly shoving each other.
Michelle's voice cuts above it all, "ENOUGH."
She looks at each of their faces in turn, and then sighs, clearing the air. She immediately becomes more businesslike, putting old hurts aside, and clapping her hands together. "Gentlemen."
"We have some work to do to get you ready for the next few weeks."
Dionysus stares for a second, then, muttering to himself about how he's supposed to work with this, he heads back towards the car. Alec, forlorn, follows him.
Michelle stands side-by-side with Daniel, eyebrows raised. Finally, she speaks to him. "Do you think this is gonna be worth it in the end?"
At length, he produces a gold-plated flip lighter, turning it this way and that as he looks at the embossed firebird on the side. "Sometimes, it's necessary to take a drastic approach to try something new."
The lighter flint sparks in the darkness, gouting flame for a split second; rising, ephemeral and evocative.
It's sometime later, and he sits by himself, away from them as they talk. And he's left with nothing but his reflections, and his deep-seated desires for more.
And he sparks it again, and again, machinelike. It dancing in his eyes, that little licking tongue.
"This is gonna be me waxing philosophical for a second; Nobody ever thought we'd get here, did they, Dion?"
"You were my first real target in this company, and we spent months on and off beating each other's brains out in increasingly violent encounters... And yet, when the teams were drawn for the OG Bishop Battlebowl, they put us together. The announcers had just finished putting us over as having the match of our lives. So us being stuck with each other once again felt at first like an insult... but the more I think about it..."
"...The more it feels like they recognized what we bring out of each other. What I bring out of you."
Flick.
The fire rises.
"With me pushing you to better yourself, you overcame Graham Baker, you challenged Ash Blake to her limit, you showed the world why you were something. You took me to my limit."
"So while there are many reasons why we should be motivated to own this mf tournament - for example, I was Bishop's last AW opponent - but the chief among us... is that if we push each other to the extremes that we did and turn that energy on our opponents, there's nobody we can't bring down. Compare that to what the rest of the field has going on."
The thumb removes, and the flame is gone. Simple.
"Set in front of us first is a team that's even more likely to collapse than we were before I ended our hostilities; the cult leader of the Following and Philidor's perfect super-soldier."
"Oh, on paper, they're the success story: winners of Trios and All-In, after all. But they've squandered their momentum away after those facts with months of nothing. Neither Kyle nor Carter has really capitalized on what they should be having. In Kyle's case, he'd rather war with the footsoldiers of Philidor over their hurting Wesley. But Carter?"
"Carter Shaw is more vulnerable than he wants to admit because every time he's asked to show Philidor why they should have faith in him, he lets it slip through his fingers."
"He was locked out of the finals of Trios."
"He was on the outside looking in, not even the biggest story of the Clash 100 Battle Royale."
"Wrestler of the Year. None of it came through for Carter."
"Only an empty victory over Sanchez that few people will even remember marks the only success stories, and yet this boy is quick to come out with his sophmoric wit crowing about how any member of my erstwhile stable is a Loss Breed, because reducing things to easily digestible pap scores an S-rating with deficients."
His face is a mask of quiet concentration.
"Nothing Carter has to say about Loss Breeds, childish portmaneus of our monickers or digs at either of our records will make up for the fact that he's tagging with someone who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire."
He walks over to the pit in Michelle's backyard, which in summer was set up with lawn-chairs around the in-laid bricks. It's the height of suburban basicness. But the firepit contains kindling... fuel to grow.
"Who has no motive to give Philidor any scrap of shine, nor to boost Carter's profile up to bask in shared success."
"And that's where you'n me are different, Dionysus... 'cause despite my disdain for you as a person, I can at least respect the fact that you've worked to get here and you deserve the main event shine. And to hell with it, I'd be glad to fight you one more time in the finals of Battlebowl. If you fall short, I will drag you up there with me."
"And I look forward to wiping that smug look off Carter's face when we stomp them out."
"We are less than a week removed from Kyle vowing bloody retribution and vengeance on them. You could see where Necurat and I grew some respect through our tribulations through this fire. Iron sharpening iron, making each other better. But Kemp vowed nothing more than to tear every bit of Philidor down to the ground, starting with the HR Department. Dangling the carrot of winning a title shot aside, it's stupid to believe all those differences went away in a week. So what it really amounts to is this... Kyle Kemp thinks Carter Shaw's the stupidest motherfucker alive."
"That's really what it amounts to. Kemp thinks Carter is just dumb enough to buy in, and who fuckin knows he probably is. Carter hasn't even shown the drive to really apply himself, because he probably feels like he doesn't need to... and that what he's got in his back pocket will win him through. But far from being on everyone's minds and lips, Carter spent his time at Revolution chatting with a hair-sniffing senior-citizen."
"So maybe with Kemp whispering much the same platitudes to Carter that Ash has used to convince him he's still one of their top guys, Carter could be deluded into thinking this team has legs."
"God knows, Kyle's entire spiel echoes what I've said to Dionysus. His Following is an atmosphere of pushing individuals to their spiritual fulfillment and making them better."
"He claimed he wanted to do the same for Garvey and Samson, and he's probably extended the same offer to Shaw."
"And yet none of it comes off remotely earned."
"Because here's where the lessons to my partner pay off... because he went through hellfire to become the man you see. For a phoenix to rise from the ashes... it must first BURN.
"Kemp really did nothing to set Philidor back. He beat their tag team in a match. But he didn't shatter their aura or break their mystique, he didn't send them packing and force them to reevaluate, and that's where Kemp's failed. And neither one of you really has what Dion and I have; Carter and "Grayson's" time grinding in the TV division was worlds away... anyway neither one of you matched what I've managed to do, left the imprint I did with it."
Downfall kneels at the pit, and with a flick of the lighter's wheel he begins to start the kindling.
"The real crime of it all is, Carter could absolutely be a World champ with a sustained push to be better, but he ain't getting there through Battlebowl... and he ain't showing the fire necessary while Ash Blake has the ticket. What happened there, Carter? Would you rather tow company line... or do you just not feel the burn yet?"
His taunting words, spoken into the campfire, but the light reaches his eyes.
"Because I know what I've shown, in spades, and what I've brought out of my partner... what I've brought out of everyone who's stepped up to me. I've dared them to match my output or be crushed into powder. Iron sharpening iron... steel forging motherfucking steel."
"Ash Blake fucking thanked me for beating her, Carter."
"For knocking her down off her high-horse and humbling her, showing her how she could rise after and claim the World title."
"Will you thank me?"
The fire, eating through the kindling, is rising in the backyard, and his eyes travel up to look at the smoke.
"Both of you are gonna think in simplistic terms, of thinking this is about banishing the Lost Breed or about extending a phony offer for us to join a self-help psychobabble circle of like-minded followers... when it's really about two men who've risen from the bottom, showing an intensity that both of you've gotten too complacent to match anymore."
"It's open-ended whether you'll be the kindling, or the ash left... either way..."
"I'm going to burn both Philidor and the Following to the motherfucking ground."
The third man, twitchy eyes glancing over their shoulders, had companionably sat between them. Now he grimaced at the quiet underneath his mask; it had been an hour since they'd even talked.
"Just gonna turn on the radio," Alec murmured, and he stretched out to turn the knob.
Daniel's hand slapped it back, shortly, irritably.
And the smoldering, angry detente reigned in the front seat once more. Alec sank back against the back-well of the cramped space, mumbling, "Well I don't even know why we came on this little road trip if you're gonna be rude..."
And the looming, large figure in the cravat raised a ginger brow. "Yes, Daniel, why are we taking this scenic route? And where, exactly, are we going?"
There's a long, pregnant pause as both Alec and Dionysus give a look to the man behind the wheel. His eyes are flinty chips behind his black mask. The eyes give away nothing, he's as guarded as he ever is.
There's even a second, trying to read the inscrutable glance, that Dion has to remark out loud, only half-jokingly, "Am I being taken to some Lost Breed site to be disposed of?"
A beat.
Daniel grunts, a passing wave of weary disgust, before his voice rises, "Ya know, people connect me to all of this extralegal bullshit with Nightingale and Sanchez and draw all of these conclusions; and still, months later, I'm forced to listen to this shit about 'taking orders from Nightingale', about not having a thought without his say-so, and it is -"
Alec is agog that his normally walled-off acquaintance was even able to articulate such an emotionally honest and open venting of his inner frustration - to Dionysus, no less, a man he'd never shown anything but disdain for. Dionysus, for his part, presses on, forceful.
"Oh, I'm sorry, champ, are you sad because the group of killers and anarchists you joined up with have a shady reputation?" his voice has just enough of the heat that passed between them in their wars over the Television championship. "You joined them, remember? Willingly."
"They recruited me, and there was no talk of - You know what, no, I don't need to justify this." He fixes his eyes back on the road.
"So you didn't know? About these accusations Carter Shaw came out with?" Dionysus queries, "About the human trafficking ring? About any of it? Daniel... when you came here, didn't you meet a victim of human trafficking?"
"Don't you have a kid at home?"
He's quiet for a second, but it does all line-up. He'd met Serenity at a stop not far from his new chosen home and saved her from being pulled into a van. The ring responsible was run by a Ukrainian mobster with deep pockets and deep connections. And then, weeks later, he'd been chosen to be part of the Lost Breed... it had enough curious sense timeline-wise that it told him he'd have some serious questions to ask Sanchez.
He sighed, "No, Dion... I'm not gonna black-bag you, shoot you in the head and throw you in a ditch at some MS-13 site."
Dion splays his fingers magnanimously out to the road in front of them. "Then where are we going?"
"I've given a lot of thought. To you, and to me." As they study each other, Daniel's voice takes on it's rough, blunt edge he'd used to dissect an opponent. "When I first met you, I took exception to... well, a lot of what you are. Actor, corporate type, hardcore type..."
He sees Dionysus starting to come sharply with a rebuttal, and he compensates for it by saying "But out of everyone I've faced, even Ash Blake; it was you that sticks in people's minds as pushing me the hardest. Why is that?"
Dionysus looks out the passenger window, and he snidely rejoinders, "Well maybe it's because they know that I'm more like you than you admit."
He shoots Dionysus the bingo pointer. "(Even if I don't believe that) - there's something there. Now think about all of our battles... how every time I put you down, you emerged stronger."
"You went from doing nothing with Chad Ford, and then by the time I'd beaten you thrice you were knocking off Baker."
"I'm saying, Dion... something about us drives you to be better."
Dionysus' smile is wry under his mask, he isn't ready to thank Downfall for pushing him in quite that manner. "Thank you so much for your cutting insight and motivational techniques..."
"That's what I'm saying, Dion... You're up on your mythology... think about the phoenix, who shed a layer of its own charred flesh to peck its way through the shell... and be reborn in a blaze of glory."
Dion chews that over, starting to say something a few times, before pinching his brows together, snapping "You're pretty damned theatrical yourself, you know that?"
Alec cuts in, chummy and intimate, patting Dionysus, "Oh boy, IS he, this guy, with his poetry sometimes, I - "
"Daniel, who is this person?" Dionysus points to the back-well.
Masked, Daniel smiles, but he cranes his head and verifies the exit he's taking.
"So, this 'flight of the phoenix', where does it lead us?" Dionysus asks.
Instead of answering directly, Daniel merges exit. "So again, when we were picked as a Battlebowl team, I had to consider options here."
"Could pull a Trios redux and betray me, join a 'Lost Breed', right?" Dionysus asks sanguinely. But his compeer's mouth lines in regret.
"That's the thing... it's been a long time since I've been a real part of a team, Dion. Of something bigger than just me, or me working with someone I didn't intend to screw over before they screwed me over." He thinks of the last time he'd been invited to be part of a team.
Right off the bat, Kidsgrove had invited him to be a part of a movie that would never get made and... it felt so forced.
"I see. And we'll find a... team-building exercise, a couples retreat wherever we're headed?"
"No... but... we are going to find healing. And maybe, some kind of togetherness."
"What's the point if this 'team' of ours is only a temporary affair, if it lasts at all?"
As they're pulling in to a residential area, Daniel finally answers. "Because maybe there was some value in motivating you to rise with me all this time."
A quick show of hands to everyone in the room; how many are familiar with the ever-expanding universe that is Star Trek? The continuing saga centered around the Federation and its chaotic, yet somehow competent command structure, starring a number of actors that will likely be relegated to co-existing with science fiction conventions? Where new species are met, alliances are tested, and galactic peace always seems off in the distant future?
...Forgive me; I can't help but feel a connection to the series as a whole and this upcoming match.
You see, in many ways, this match is very representative of many of the Star Trek superpowers. Now, I know what you're thinking; "Dionysus, you narcissistic ninny, there's no way you can compare yourself to the Federation in any way shape for form!" And you'd be correct; nor was I going to. But we'll get to me in a moment. Lets instead look to the opposition, see where they stand in the grand Trek scheme. After all, you're always seeing the universe from the perspective of the Federation, and not from any group that is truly interesting.
Now, there are three major groups involved in this match-up; The Lost Boys, The Following, and Philidor Holdings. The easiest one to pin down would be Carter Shaw, of course; his snake-like essence makes him a perfect fit as the Cardassian Empire in this grand game. Known for their tenacity and capability of being underhanded, all under the guise of the perceived just, yet still under the stranglehold of a more powerful entity in the Dominion (this is where the Philidor connection comes in, you see). Sure, Mr. Shaw, I can see how you would want to play nice with your Philidor friends...or perhaps they're co-workers?Family?Jonestown brethren? Never could figure out the standing you lot have. Regardless, I can see the benefit of having earnest allies at your disposal to ensure that your position is well kept. Soon enough, however, you will start to get that itch for control over your life once more, and that All-In briefcase is all too tempting to utilize when your earnest co-worker is sitting pretty at the top of the food chain.
Kyle Kemp, on the other hand, has a seemingly simple message...at first. Deep down, however, you know there is more to the man's cunning, as he too jockeys for control over his quadrant of the wrestling ring. In many ways, very reminiscent of the Romulan Empire; having carved out an incredible niche in the galaxy, they look to use secretive tactics and brilliant maneuvers, all under the guise of playing fairly within their fence. You never truly know what Kemp is going to be up to, the grand schemer who deceived tens of thousands during the last Havoc Rumble, and now looking to finally carve out his own path into the singles game.
Given that these two are similar, one would be forgiven in thinking they would make for a formidable team, and most certainly by paper they are. A dominant tag team champion pairing up with one of the most important men in the ring, face-to-face with two men that, only weeks ago, were ready to rip each other apart from collar to codpiece. However, the analogy still holds up; Cardassians and Romulans war with one another quite frequently, and as a result, clear animosity is on display. Sure, in Kemp's case it is continuing the trend of holding the line against the HR Department, but think for a moment; would you allow your allies to keep being repelled over and over again? A perfect opportunity presents itself for the Cardassian presence to strike at a powerful opposition, and an unfortunate state of affairs for our two empires as a whole.
Downfall and I, on the other hand? That one is easy. While we war, it is without anger or disappointment at each other. What it is is simply thus; we are warriors, honor bound to do battle. Yes, naturally, I'm going to compare the both of us to the Klingons; still with its own set of problems and in-fighting, but ultimately remembering that it is not for our own personal glory that we necessarily fight, but rather for the glory of the empire!
...Also, we have two dicks. Each. Checkmate, Team Shemp.
I'm sure people are going to look at this pairing and compare it to two unruly brothers looking with pouting faces at their parents while wearing an "Our Get Along Shirt," thinking that there is zero chemistry between us, that due to our heated past we will be unable to co-exist even as a team.
And therein lies the rub.
That won't happen.
Think for a moment; what is the best way to know your partner's strengths and weaknesses? Is it strictly watching them in the ring, or is it experiencing them firsthand? When you go to a car dealership, do you just take the first car you see and hope for the best?
Of course not!
You go for a test drive.
You continue to get up when you have been bested, to learn and find new methods to take them down. Those battles, nay, those wars prepared us for the match that is to come, and certainly puts us at a much better advantage than any other team in this contest.
So go ahead, Team Shemp; use as much stoogely cunning as you wish. For in the end, a united front with divided forces cannot hope to stand against the glorious might of the Double D Empire!
Q'APLA!!!!
She answers the knock on the door, pulling her robe around her, clad in leggings and hair a messy bun and still for just a second she's as beautiful as she was the first time he saw her.
Then, Michelle's eyes wash over the trio at her doorstep, the emotions sea-changing moment-by-moment as she's taking in the faces of Daniel (softness) Dionysus (confusion, then dim recognition) and then Alec (long-held bitterness and disgust she can't move past).
She turns back to Daniel, patient gaze saying wordlessly you could've called, you know. But she senses the urgency in his stance.
"Chelle," his voice is even.
"Lovely to meet you, I'm sorry about the intrusion," Dionysus cuts in, "I have no idea why we're here, but it is a shame to interrupt your evening." He proffers a handshake, and Michelle takes it, greatly amused.
"Careful, sparky," Daniel warns. And the two men lock eyes for a second.
Michelle, with the veteran instincts of a boss who managed a team of wrestlers - and more than a few thugs - senses the tensions. "You came to talk teaming."
"Your acumen for this was spot-on... when Jason and I started tagging, you were the glue that took us to our first title win in the US. How did you do it, 'Chelle? How did you take two disparate people on separate tracks and make'em work together? You..." and he looks away, "You were the best of us."
She's touched, despite herself, but then when Alec speaks it's as grating as nails on glass, and her eyes slit, ruining the moment. "I was always happy to interview you - "
She turns back to Daniel, "But why did you bring - him."
Alec protests, but it's Dionysus who steps forward curtly. "Daniel, I'm so happy you called me to come out here and disturb a young woman in the middle of the night. But this is going nowhere. So," bowing to Michelle, "Thank you, madam, and with that, I'll -"
Daniel grabs Dionysus' lapel, "Hey, Spartacus, you aren't walking away from this -"
Alec, whining, "How many times do I have to apologize for being in a dark place, I'm sorry, I - "
Downfall and Dionysus, face to face, nearly shoving each other.
Michelle's voice cuts above it all, "ENOUGH."
She looks at each of their faces in turn, and then sighs, clearing the air. She immediately becomes more businesslike, putting old hurts aside, and clapping her hands together. "Gentlemen."
"We have some work to do to get you ready for the next few weeks."
Dionysus stares for a second, then, muttering to himself about how he's supposed to work with this, he heads back towards the car. Alec, forlorn, follows him.
Michelle stands side-by-side with Daniel, eyebrows raised. Finally, she speaks to him. "Do you think this is gonna be worth it in the end?"
At length, he produces a gold-plated flip lighter, turning it this way and that as he looks at the embossed firebird on the side. "Sometimes, it's necessary to take a drastic approach to try something new."
The lighter flint sparks in the darkness, gouting flame for a split second; rising, ephemeral and evocative.
It's sometime later, and he sits by himself, away from them as they talk. And he's left with nothing but his reflections, and his deep-seated desires for more.
And he sparks it again, and again, machinelike. It dancing in his eyes, that little licking tongue.
"This is gonna be me waxing philosophical for a second; Nobody ever thought we'd get here, did they, Dion?"
"You were my first real target in this company, and we spent months on and off beating each other's brains out in increasingly violent encounters... And yet, when the teams were drawn for the OG Bishop Battlebowl, they put us together. The announcers had just finished putting us over as having the match of our lives. So us being stuck with each other once again felt at first like an insult... but the more I think about it..."
"...The more it feels like they recognized what we bring out of each other. What I bring out of you."
Flick.
The fire rises.
"With me pushing you to better yourself, you overcame Graham Baker, you challenged Ash Blake to her limit, you showed the world why you were something. You took me to my limit."
"So while there are many reasons why we should be motivated to own this mf tournament - for example, I was Bishop's last AW opponent - but the chief among us... is that if we push each other to the extremes that we did and turn that energy on our opponents, there's nobody we can't bring down. Compare that to what the rest of the field has going on."
The thumb removes, and the flame is gone. Simple.
"Set in front of us first is a team that's even more likely to collapse than we were before I ended our hostilities; the cult leader of the Following and Philidor's perfect super-soldier."
"Oh, on paper, they're the success story: winners of Trios and All-In, after all. But they've squandered their momentum away after those facts with months of nothing. Neither Kyle nor Carter has really capitalized on what they should be having. In Kyle's case, he'd rather war with the footsoldiers of Philidor over their hurting Wesley. But Carter?"
"Carter Shaw is more vulnerable than he wants to admit because every time he's asked to show Philidor why they should have faith in him, he lets it slip through his fingers."
"He was locked out of the finals of Trios."
"He was on the outside looking in, not even the biggest story of the Clash 100 Battle Royale."
"Wrestler of the Year. None of it came through for Carter."
"Only an empty victory over Sanchez that few people will even remember marks the only success stories, and yet this boy is quick to come out with his sophmoric wit crowing about how any member of my erstwhile stable is a Loss Breed, because reducing things to easily digestible pap scores an S-rating with deficients."
His face is a mask of quiet concentration.
"Nothing Carter has to say about Loss Breeds, childish portmaneus of our monickers or digs at either of our records will make up for the fact that he's tagging with someone who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire."
He walks over to the pit in Michelle's backyard, which in summer was set up with lawn-chairs around the in-laid bricks. It's the height of suburban basicness. But the firepit contains kindling... fuel to grow.
"Who has no motive to give Philidor any scrap of shine, nor to boost Carter's profile up to bask in shared success."
"And that's where you'n me are different, Dionysus... 'cause despite my disdain for you as a person, I can at least respect the fact that you've worked to get here and you deserve the main event shine. And to hell with it, I'd be glad to fight you one more time in the finals of Battlebowl. If you fall short, I will drag you up there with me."
"And I look forward to wiping that smug look off Carter's face when we stomp them out."
"We are less than a week removed from Kyle vowing bloody retribution and vengeance on them. You could see where Necurat and I grew some respect through our tribulations through this fire. Iron sharpening iron, making each other better. But Kemp vowed nothing more than to tear every bit of Philidor down to the ground, starting with the HR Department. Dangling the carrot of winning a title shot aside, it's stupid to believe all those differences went away in a week. So what it really amounts to is this... Kyle Kemp thinks Carter Shaw's the stupidest motherfucker alive."
"That's really what it amounts to. Kemp thinks Carter is just dumb enough to buy in, and who fuckin knows he probably is. Carter hasn't even shown the drive to really apply himself, because he probably feels like he doesn't need to... and that what he's got in his back pocket will win him through. But far from being on everyone's minds and lips, Carter spent his time at Revolution chatting with a hair-sniffing senior-citizen."
"So maybe with Kemp whispering much the same platitudes to Carter that Ash has used to convince him he's still one of their top guys, Carter could be deluded into thinking this team has legs."
"God knows, Kyle's entire spiel echoes what I've said to Dionysus. His Following is an atmosphere of pushing individuals to their spiritual fulfillment and making them better."
"He claimed he wanted to do the same for Garvey and Samson, and he's probably extended the same offer to Shaw."
"And yet none of it comes off remotely earned."
"Because here's where the lessons to my partner pay off... because he went through hellfire to become the man you see. For a phoenix to rise from the ashes... it must first BURN.
"Kemp really did nothing to set Philidor back. He beat their tag team in a match. But he didn't shatter their aura or break their mystique, he didn't send them packing and force them to reevaluate, and that's where Kemp's failed. And neither one of you really has what Dion and I have; Carter and "Grayson's" time grinding in the TV division was worlds away... anyway neither one of you matched what I've managed to do, left the imprint I did with it."
Downfall kneels at the pit, and with a flick of the lighter's wheel he begins to start the kindling.
"The real crime of it all is, Carter could absolutely be a World champ with a sustained push to be better, but he ain't getting there through Battlebowl... and he ain't showing the fire necessary while Ash Blake has the ticket. What happened there, Carter? Would you rather tow company line... or do you just not feel the burn yet?"
His taunting words, spoken into the campfire, but the light reaches his eyes.
"Because I know what I've shown, in spades, and what I've brought out of my partner... what I've brought out of everyone who's stepped up to me. I've dared them to match my output or be crushed into powder. Iron sharpening iron... steel forging motherfucking steel."
"Ash Blake fucking thanked me for beating her, Carter."
"For knocking her down off her high-horse and humbling her, showing her how she could rise after and claim the World title."
"Will you thank me?"
The fire, eating through the kindling, is rising in the backyard, and his eyes travel up to look at the smoke.
"Both of you are gonna think in simplistic terms, of thinking this is about banishing the Lost Breed or about extending a phony offer for us to join a self-help psychobabble circle of like-minded followers... when it's really about two men who've risen from the bottom, showing an intensity that both of you've gotten too complacent to match anymore."
"It's open-ended whether you'll be the kindling, or the ash left... either way..."
"I'm going to burn both Philidor and the Following to the motherfucking ground."