Strange BedFOLLOWS (by Kemp, Shaw, Phoenix, and DiVito)
Feb 14, 2021 21:59:06 GMT -5
CJ Phoenix and Carter Shaw like this
Post by The Following on Feb 14, 2021 21:59:06 GMT -5
“It’s creepy to see Spahn Ranch live and in action.” Carter Shaw quips as he walks through the large door Chase Jackson is ‘nice enough’ to hold open for him.
The main corridor is wide and spacious; clean. Chase is clearly not happy, sporting an angry frown as he stays on the heels of Shaw as they both enter The Following’s facility.
“Just keep walkin’, Shaw,” Chase says in the vocal tone of a prisoner guard. Eager to protect what they have, he doesn’t trust the invited visitor one bit.
“Who are you, again?” Shaw asks with a smirk, glancing over his shoulder at Chase. Chase does his best to not let the attempted irritation get under his skin. The two keep walking, Shaw taking in all he can see. They walk by large double doors, the training room with a professional sized wrestling ring in view. Shaw cocks his head, looking in. CJ Phoenix is hard at work in the ring, oiling up new moves and keeping his fundamentals strong with training partners. Shaw nods in appreciation for it.
“I pictured something different before I started looking into this place. Thought I’d see more hot dog stands or ice cream trucks. Maybe a huge cannabis field. You don’t have a field of weed, do ya? I’ve got a fed connection that could shut that shit down real quick...just ask David Sanchez.”
Shaw exudes projected confidence as he continues to pry at Chase Jackson, who is simply shaking his head angrily. He goes to shove Shaw from behind as their walking pace slows, but he stops himself. Shaw notices this.
“Ah. You wouldn’t wanna do that, Chase. You don’t wanna make Dad mad by putting your hands on me.”
“Just shut the fuck up...Christ.” Chase retorts, annoyed.
As they get closer to Kyle Kemp’s office, they turn into a new hallway. Dandy DiVito is leaning against the wall, looking up to see Shaw and Chase walking by. Shaw and Dandy lock eyes. Shaw smirks with a nod; Dandy, a scowl. No words are exchanged as they communicate heat through a simple glare. Once they pass Dandy, Shaw sarcastically throws up his index and middle finger out.
“I come in peace,” He says in what sounds like an attempt at an Irish brogue.
They reach the office door, Chase pulling out a key from his pocket and unlocking the door.
“Have a seat, Shaw, Kemp will be down in a few minutes.”
Shaw squints his eyes as he gets in Chase’s face as he slowly enters the room.
“This is a nice place ya got here, I must say. Where’dya get it?” Shaw speaks as he enters the office room and approaches the desk. First thing he notices entering the room is a little camera up in the far corner. Chase closes the door to finally end his interaction with Shaw, letting out an exhale as he exchanges a glare with Dandy, still watching from far down the hallway.
“I’ll take a glass of water... You guys got any Scotch?” Shaw’s voice comes from behind the closed door.
Carter Shaw/Matthias Mintzel...names you woulda thought, about a year ago, would ascend side by side over the course of 2020. Me, raw and fresh, talented and hungry. Mintzel experienced and, well, out of shape, but he got himself there once he decided to give a shit. Me with my Television Title run, you with your outstanding Pure Title run; both reigns underappreciated, in my opinion.
All arrows pointed up for a while. You got yourself a Hardcore Title reign since we’ve last crossed paths, I’m still Mr. All-In, with the briefcase being powerful in a new and exciting way these days.
I got better and better, each and every week, absorbing everything this sport has to offer.
You got back to prime Mintzel performance.
So where did everything go wrong? Where did we lose our concurrent trajectory? Why does it feel like you, Matthias, are drowning in mediocrity while I’m riding on top of the waves?
It all comes down to one moment. One decision. One path that we each took.
You found The Loss Breed.
I found Philidor.
And, unironically, I’ve been single-handedly systematically dismantling your group of misfits over the past 2 months. David Sanchez’s dirty deeds finally came back around to get him. There’s still more skeletons in that closet, of that I have no doubt, but for right now? Sanchez has lost his political power, his ‘standing’ in AW and his influence over anybody and everybody right now.
Human trafficking has a way of doing that to a person, I suppose.
And last week? Well, by the skin of our teeth, Kyle Kemp and myself had the pleasure of sending Downfall packing alongside Dionysus, sending them both back to their drawing boards. Drawing boards that have so many goddamn erase marks etched into it, you can’t even clearly read the next plan any more.
But Downfall’s seeing the error of his ways. Nightingale doesn’t even call you guys anymore, does he? Too busy gettin’ his old girl back. Stuck in Alice’s wonderland. Are you seeing that you’ve hitched yourself to the wrong wagon, yet?
The Loss Breed has been a sinking ship since the day ANYbody decided Nightingale was a role model. I’m sorry that you ended up being collateral forgotten damage in that mess. But that continued struggle, unfortunately, doesn’t come to an end for you this Monday on Clash.
That struggle continues. You and Lowe, a match made in hell, will fall to a Philidor/Following connection. It’s poetic in your case, Mintzel, the carousel of disaster.
So Carter Shaw continues to ascend. Still on that trajectory while you're stuck playing Chutes and Ladders with your career.
Sorry to be your next slide.
I think my current position in this company is being very misunderstood. An image such as the start of last week’s Clash, with my briefcase in hand beside the AW World Championship in Ash Blake’s...I understand that those that still root for me want me to turn around and wipe out my own compatriot. I understand that those that no longer like me call me a puppet, a marionette to the cause. But judgements and harsh words mean nothing when I continue to be the last man standing. Anything you felt, anything you thought about me falls with you to the mat in an exhausted, sweaty mess.
It puts more torque into the great Philidor Hold, as you tap your hand on the mat in order to fight another day.
That hate? That judgement? Puts the extra juice on the Simply Put, when I drop you head-first into your own shit.
There’s no shame in losing to the Man Of One Thousand Title Shots, Spencer Adams...no shame at all, Mintzel. He’s an all-time great. But now you find yourself with another fork in the road; there is at every rebuild.
Hey, I hear The Following is pretty good with self-improvement. I could put in a good word for you while I’m still finding my name beside Kyle Kemp’s in this Battlebowl. Tell ya what, when I pin you on Clash, I’ll look up at Kemp in the corner and say, “He’s gonna need you after this”, as that ref slaps the mat a third time.
I gotchu
I think the main thing holding you back, Mintzel, other than the Loss Breed chains you willingly locked around your ankle, is your lack of consistency. Your lack of focus. You seem to, atleast at this stage of your career, really need that external motivation to keep yourself going over a long period of time.
You’ve had flashes, man have you had flashes. Times where you’re the ole’ brilliant Der Schmetterling. But they’re countered by the times you look a step slow and disinterested in the necessary goal at hand. You’ve had times where you move with that quickness, you show that alertness that sets you apart from the ‘big men’. And they’ve been countered by those nights where you rely on an old trick one too many times and lose sight of your own versatility.
It’s too bad The Loss Breed didn’t supply you with that external motivation you need. It’s too bad NATE isn’t able to either. Traw Ma doesn’t. The Hardcore Title didn’t. The Pure Title didn’t. AW doesn’t. What will it take to draw that focus out long-term, Mintzel?
Me?
What if you set your biggest goal in the simplest of ways?
“Try to be better than Carter Shaw.”
We’re linked in time, Matthias. I would be honored to be that motivation for you. Watch me as I sport the Philidor Holdings sponsorship, hold the All-In briefcase...watch me as I make me way to the final battle of this OG Bishop Battlebowl Memorial and end up snagging that #30 spot in the Havoc Rumble. Watch me as I continue to turn heads and make my name matter.
As you sit back in that ring on Monday night, lean your head against the near rope, and watch the victorious team of Carter Shaw and Kyle Kemp retreat up the ramp, creating another roadblock for you…
Take it all in and commit yourself to “Try and be better than Carter Shaw”. Will you get there? No, probably not. But that FOCUS will take you to those ‘places’ you claim you can access, but fail when it becomes a physical possibility.
Let me help your focus, by being your focus.
Let me make you a better Matthias Mintzel.
…
Oh fuck...
Kemp walks up to the door to his office where Chase is standing outside, guarding the door. He smiles at the enthusiasm that Chase has for making sure no one enters the office. He puts his hand on Chase’s shoulder.
“How is our guest doing?”
Chase smirks.
“He’s impressed. Who wouldn’t be walking in here with what we have? I think he has reservations but he’s right where you want him.”
Kemp nods and instinctively smooths out his shirt before saying one last thing.
“Stay here. I want you to take him to the training center when we’re done and have him watch the afternoon session.”
Chase nods as Kemp gives him a reassuring smile before opening the door to the office. Shaw is sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Kemps desk. Shaw stands as Kemp walks up to him and they shake hands.
“It’s good to see you, my friend.”
Shaw smirks.
“The last time I saw you, you were getting pulled down a hallway by Downfall.”
“Yep and you were getting shoved into a locker room.”
“What can I say? I’m not one to walk away from a fight.”
Kemp laughs as he crosses to the other side of the desk and takes a seat. Shaw also takes a seat and both men pause before Kemp breaks the silence.
“DId you think you would be here a week ago?”
Shaw chuckles and shakes his head.
“Not a chance but you didn’t think I would be either.”
“I didn’t think you would be but I was hopeful. I was hopeful we could come to some kind of agreement. I was even more hopeful after our talk last week.”
Both men take a second to adjust in their seats, both knowing the conversation is about to take a more serious tone.
“I wanted to talk to you about that. Our talk did get me thinking and coming here and seeing your operation has opened my eyes even more. I see why you are successful! This isn’t a business arrangement for you. This is a family. All of these people look up to you for guidance. You hold all of their hopes and dreams in your hands. You hold their futures! The Following is truly about making all of these people better.”
Kemp nods but has a small look of concern in his eye. He can tell that Shaw is getting to something. He leans forward.
“That’s correct. Everything I say isn’t a catchphrase. It’s the truth. I look after each and every member of The Following like they were my own child. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for them.”
“And that’s admirable. I’m happy to hear you say that because rather than joining you in The Following I have a much better alternative for all parties.”
Kemp smirks.
“There it is. I knew you had something up your sleeve.”
“What can I say? I’m not Mr. All In for no reason.”
Shaw reaches down next to him and pulls his bag onto his lap. He pulls a folder out and tosses it onto the desk. Kemp picks it up and opens it. Inside is a stack of legal documents. Kemp looks up from the folder and at Shaw's smiling face.
“That stack of papers is a legally binding real estate deal. The piece of real estate it’s for is this compound and…”
Kemp scoffs and tosses the papers back onto the desk.
“What are you trying to pull here?”
“I’m not trying to pull anything. I may be impressed by your operation but it doesn’t take a genius to see the problem you have. That problem is affording all of this. At Philidor we have access to files that many believe are private. I know about your financial issues.”
Kemp shakes his head.
“There are no financial issues. The compound was paid for when I used my inheritance money to buy it.”
“That may be true but what about property taxes? Utilities? The food that you provide in this compound for all of these people? The costs to house all of these people will add up. In fact I already know they are.”
Kemp’s face turns cold as he glares at Shaw.
“You may think you know something but the truth is that you don’t know shit. I dump my paychecks into this place. I use all the money I make to make this ship run. We have other means as well. This…”
“Isn’t my concern? I think you made it my concern when you practically begged me to join you last week.”
“Begged you? I did no such thing. In fact I gave you the same opportunity that I’ve given all of these other people.”
“But I’m not these other people. I’m Carter Shaw and I represent Philiodor Holdings. Let’s be real. That’s the real reason you want me. You want to hurt Philidor. It’s not that you want to ‘make me a better person.’”
Now it’s Shaw that leans back in his chair.
“Kyle, this place is going to bleed you dry. Then what? How do you help all of these people when you have nowhere else to go? How do you help all of these people when there’s no money?”
Kemp pauses for a second, running what he just said through his mind before responding.
“And what solution do you have in these papers?”
“Well, before you got all hot and bothered I was going to finish OUR offer. The offer is that you sell the compound to Philidor Holdings. We, in turn, will rent this place to you at a cheaper rate than what you were spending on your other costs. We will also provide room and board to each member of The Following to stay here for a very miniscule cost. We make money. You stay afloat.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“No.”
Kemp takes a deep breath.
“What else?”
“Not only do you agree to move The Following under the Philidor umbrella but you agree to be ‘The Following presented by Philidor Holdings.’ You agree to help us in whatever we need. You protect our people and make them better over everyone else. Oh and one last thing... You abandon your little revenge crusade against Ash Blake and agree to protect her and any of the other sponsored wrestlers.”
“Basically you want us to do the job the HR Department couldn’t do. We just become your own security force.”
“No, you become what you wanted to be. Better than everyone else. You just do that with Philidor’s money.”
Kemp and Shaw exchange a long glare before Shaw gets up and walks to the door.
“I assume my shadow is waiting out here for me. I’ll let you think about all of this. Chase still gonna give me the tour of the place like we talked about?”
Kemp nods with pursed lips as Shaw opens the door and nods at Chase. Chase follows closely to give a full tour; they stop for a moment as Dandy is standing very close to the door in the hallway.
Hello Frank. At long last will we come face to face in the middle of the ring. I have longed to step in the ring with you. How long I have dreamed of taking on the man that so many are scared of. The reason that they’re scared of you is because you killed a man. That fact has caused you to win so many matches. All everyone sees is Raging Dead passing away at your hands and with that fact implanted into their minds you have been able to beat so many. The match is won before you even get into the ring. That won’t happen with me and I refuse to let Carter Shaw fall into that trap either.
That’s because when I look at you I don’t see a murderer. I see an emotionally repressed man whose daddy issues have run every decision in his life. I see a man who has kept in every single emotion all because he was afraid to show just a little bit of who he was because he might show a little bit too much to the world. I see a man that can easily be beaten when you dig under the bravado.
What? Have a problem with any of that Frank?
Or does it all ring a little to true?
You don’t have to answer that. We both know what the real answer is. Don’t worry though Frank. For the first time in your life you stand before someone that will accept you for who you are. You stand before someone who doesn’t care if you want to smile. I don’t care if you want to dance. Hell I don’t care if you want to cry. All I care about is opening your mind to a better you!
Can you imagine Frank? What would you do if you could really access your entire mind? What if you didn’t need to be rough and arrogant all the time? What if you didn’t need to be so angry? What if you could finally balance out your emotions? Imagine everything you could do. Imagine the new heights you could reach. Because let’s be real. You’ve grown stagnant.
Now some might look into that statement and laugh, claiming that your big “win” at Revolution says otherwise but is beating Corey Bull a big “win”? Is making Corey Bull join you really something to brag about? Let’s be real. Corey Bull isn’t the fast rising prospect many thought he was this time a year ago. Just like you aren’t the same rising star many thought you were six months ago. Losses have piled up. Championships have been lost. Credibility has disappeared. And as that credibility has disappeared so has your logic.
In fact you have started to let the one thing that you were supposed to keep suppressed come out. Emotions. Your supposed to be a tough guy all the time. Remember Frank? That’s what your father would say. He would call you a pussy for letting everyone know you were frustrated. He’d drag you in the back room and spank you for letting everyone know you were slowly losing your confidence. Hell I bet he would beat you within an inch of your life knowing you were teaming with the guy that took your Hardcore Championship.
Sit there and think about it Frank. What would daddy have done if he knew you were being submissive to the guy that took what you had worked hard to earn? What would he do if he knew you were letting him carry you into the finals of the BattleBowl? Because let’s be real. That’s exactly what Mintzel is doing. Am I wrong? I don’t think so.
Think about it. Until he got his ass kicked by Spencer Adams he had turned away all challengers since he beat you. He was on a roll. And before you use the excuse that win he took the title from you he didn’t pin you, he pinned you in your rematch. He beat you. He was more aggressive than you. He was more willing to do whatever it took to win. The fact of the matter is that he was better than you and continues to be better than you.
And that bothers you Frank. I know it does. I can see it in your eyes. I saw it last week when you made your entrances and the look you gave Mintzel. You can’t stand knowing that there’s one man that can stand in front of you in Action Wrestling and say that they own you. That man in your mind is Mintzel. He took everything you have and spit it right back in your face! He took all that bravado, arrogance and tough guy attitude and kicked your ass. Now you kiss his ass!
Do you like that Frank? I doubt it. That’s why I have a solution for you. Leave the Hangmen behind. Join The Following. Because if you don’t, you’re going to have one more guy that owns you. That guy is Kyle Kemp! FOLLOW THE FOLLOWING!
As Shaw exits Kemp’s office, he winks at Dandy who is waiting in the hall.
“I think the boss will see you now, champ.”
“Man, fuck you, Shaw.”
Shaw laughs as he walks down the hall away from Kemp’s office with Chase accompanying him. Dandy sneers and shakes his head as he knocks and enters Kemp’s office. Dandy takes the same seat that Shaw just occupied.
“Should I just be real wit’chu an’ admit I was listenin’ through the fuckin’ door or do you want me to play stupid so you can explain that shit to me?”
Kemp smiles and shakes his head.
“Let’s just forget the pretense. What’s on your mind?”
“You hurtin’ for money?”
“Good, good. I like straight forward questions, because they permit straight forward answers. Mine is ‘No, Dandy.’”
“Shaw seemed to be pretty fuckin’ sure you was.”
“Dandy, when you’re a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. Philidor sees everything as something to be bought and paid for. That’s it. There’s no fire here. Hell, there’s no smoke.”
A weight lifts off of Dandy’s shoulders.
“A’ight. Good.”
Kemp’s lips curl up to offer a comforting smile.
“Is that all you need?”
“You really tryin’ ta recruit Carter Shaw to join us?”
“I made a real effort there, yes, but it certainly doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen.”
Dandy leans forward, the moment is stern and serious.
“I don’t think him joinin’ us woulda been good, man.”
“Why not?”
“He’s a fuckin’ asshole, Kemp. He don’t belong.”
Kemp laughs.
“If I didn’t try to make room for the folks that others think are assholes… well, let’s just say the tag team title picture would look a lot different, brother.”
Dandy smiles and the pair share a laugh for a moment.
“Ok, ok. Point taken.”
Dandy pauses for a moment as tension returns to his appeal.
“But look, I don’t trust that mo’fucka at all, Kemp. I think he a fuckin’ snake, an’ if you let ‘im get too close, he gon’ bite yo’ ass. Ain’t nothin’ worth that. Not the last spot in Havoc. Not havin’ debts wiped out. Not a goddamn thing.”
“I understand your reservations, Dandy, and I thank you for sharing them with me.”
Dandy shakes his head anxiously .
“Kemp, I don’t think you gettin’ how fuckin’ bad this could be, man.”
“I do.”
Dandy stands swiftly, his voice rises to a yell.
“THEM’S THE MO’FUCKAS WHO MERC’ED WESLEY, DAMNIT!”
Dandy takes a deep, emotional breath and his voice returns to normal.
“That ain’t the kinda shit a man can forget, let alone fuckin’ forgive, Kyle. I can’t. We can’t.”
Dandy interlaces his fingers behind his head and lets out a sigh. Kemp stands in an attempt to soothe Dandy, but Dandy waves him off and leaves the office.
“Dandy… wait… Dandy?”
Oh, man. I fuckin’ love tournaments, man. I love how shit happens in these bitches that ain’t never gon’ happen otherwise. I mean, shit, if it ain’t for a tourney, how the fuck y’all ever gon’ see Dandy squarin’ up wit’ James Nightengale nowadays? Seems the only fuckin’ way that spineless li’l fuck ever be standin’ across from me is when he ain’t got no fuckin’ say in the matter. When we in a big multiman shitshow or we got some fuck-fuck playin’ tourney bracket, he here for it, but y’all ain’t never seen Dandy DiVito one-on-one wit’ James Nightingale for one fuckin’ reason: the mo’fucka’s scared. Period. An’ look, I get it. Ev’ry damn thing that mo’fucka eva done, I done it all better befo’ he was even in the fuckin’ picture. In 2019, I locked down a fuckin’ epic, six-month feud wit’ Kiddy. In 2020, that li’l bitch decided to try playn’ copycat, ‘cept when it was all done wit’ me an’ Kiddy, we locked down the best fuckin’ feud of the year an’ he jus’ got he Cheereos pissed in. I beat Sam’s ass for six months when Sam was an active, dedicated fuckin’ member of the roster. Jimmy? He got his ass beat over an’ over by a man who didn’t have no time to focus on that in-ring shit for literally the whole ass time they was ‘fightin’.’
When I set out an’ made myself the fuckin’ challenger for the world title, I not only won that shit, but I held the fuckin’ fort down for months on end in huge shit show multiman mess after huge shit show multiman mess. I beat the whole fuckin’ roster time an’ time again to win and then hold my fuckin’ strap. Jimmy? He got shot after shot after shot to hol’ down that fort in straight up, one-on-one contests, an’ y’all notice the mo’fucka ain’t got nothin’ to show fo’ it? I mean, fuck, dude went an’ had his gang of bad bois show up an’ trash the fuckin’ ring and put a hurtin’ on the big dipshit Wally, and even when them odds was FUCKIN’ STTTTTTTACCCCCCCKKKKKKKEDDDD he STILL couldn’t win the big one and take big goldie home fo’ even a night. Dude, at some point, even a delusional mo’fuck’s gotta have an epiphany an’ deal wit’ facts an’ realize that he ain’t even half the badass he thinkin’ he is. Yo’ time’s up, Nighty-Nights. Let’s bring yo’ fuckin’ wildly unearned ego trip into fuckin’ check here, huh, son?
You the leader of a stable that ain’t done DICK in almost a fuckin’ year. Y’all ain’t the fuckin’ Lost Breed, you the fuckin’ Lost Point, ‘cause they ain’t NOBODY who watches what y’all doin’ and can even remotely fuckin’ understand what yo’ end game is. Either y’all are fucking TERRIBLE at havin’ a point OR y’all are fuckin’ worse than booty at gettin’ the job done. Them’s the only two options though, son, so pick yo’ poison an’ drink that shit up like you was some 14 year ole girl in a Shakespear play. At the end of it all, whether you fuckin’ take that shit on yo’ own or you wait for me to hol’ yo’ fuckin’ gullet open and forcibly feed you that shit, the reality of jus’ how fuckin’ inept yo’ ass is will fuckin’ crush you, Jimmy. At this point, you tellin’ the world how fuckin’ good you is is just as good as them mo’fuckas who still tellin’ the world that global warmin’ ain’t real. Everyone all around you is just noddin’ as you scream while we hopin’ you’ll just shut the fuck up about that nonsense we all see clear as day you wrong ‘bout. But if it makes you feel better to grasp at some kinda relevance, keep at it Jimmy. I guess I can spot you that shit. If I had swung an’ missed as many times in my career that you has in yo’s, I’d prolly be bendin’ over backward all the damn time to tell myself I didn’t suck jus’ like you doin’ all the damn time. Shit, man. If you was American, I might honestly jus’ fuckin’ confuse yo’ ass wit’ Trump at this point. But jus’ like yo’ philosophical bro Donny JT, the sooner you come to terms wit’ the reality of it all... the sooner you accept that yo’ been given a whole fuckin’ assload a’ opportunities an’ yo’ burned ‘em all up faster than Cheech an’ Chong… the sooner you just fuckin’ deal wit’ the fact that yo’ fuckin’ career is all fuckin’ an’ no cummin’... the better yo’ life is gon’ be, my man.
Hell, you start facin’ facts and MAYBE yo’ ass can finally accomplish somethin’ that matters. MAYBE yo’ ass can start doin’ somethin’ that’s worth a fuckin’ shit. But goddamn, son, the longer you insist on lettin’ the focus of yo’ whole fuckin’ life in AW be orbittin’ aroun’ the idea that you a made man… the longer that you got all the tools in yo’ toolbox that you could ever need to be the fuckin’ king of the game… the longer you keep standin’ over the bed wit’ the knife but not having the fuckin’ NUTS to plunge that shit home… Well, you gon’ just continue bein’ the man that almost was somethin’. You’ll just always be that also ran, an’ the bes’ you can hope for is to be the fuckin’ 90’s Bills. You might always find yo’self in the hunt, but when push comes to shove, yo’ find yo’self gettin’ yo’ shit pushed in by the fuckin’ Cowboys.
So when we get to Clash, Jimmy, I’ma give you that last push you need to just fuckin’ fall off the cliff here. I’ma smack the fuckin’ sense you CLEARLY lackin’ into yo’ dumb ass. Fo’ yo’ sake? I hope you figure some shit out, ‘cause obviously you fulla potential. Unfortunately, right now though, you WAY MORE full a’ shit than potential, Jimmy.
Success. Victory. Another step forward. CJ Phoenix should arguably still be celebrating his first round victory with fellow Following brother Dandy DiVito. Instead, he's not. The 24 hour rule has passed. A first round win by itself doesn't win a championship. There are still many more obstacles to overcome, and CJ knows this. Thus, whatever time he isn't spending with his wife is being taken up by his training at the Following Compound as well as a personal project that he's been working on. Meanwhile, two of the people that have been around him the most are on the phone with each other, his wife, Kaiyah, and the intern-turned-assistant he's been working with, Vanessa.
“He's not giving you too much trouble, is he, Vanessa?”
“Nope. Just making sure I'm adjusting to working here. He put in a good word for me and the higher ups like my work ethic, so I got hired full-time as an assistant this morning!”
“Congratulations! You've come a long way in a short time, you know.”
“Yes, ma'am, I have, and it's all thanks to you two. Between him taking me under his wing and you covering my college expenses, things have been A LOT less stressful and much more manageable.”
“Excellent! It's a lot easier to get things done when you don't have a million other things to worry about.”
“Right! Now I can just focus on helping people out....and trying to figure out what it is that CJ's up to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sorry, I'm sure it's none of my business, but it's clear that he's working on something. He's just not telling me what it is. I'm sure it's because I'm just an assistant.”
“...no. No, it's not that. He hasn't told me either.”
“WHAT!? Why not!?”
“I don't know.”
“Maybe it's a secret between him and the other guys in the Following?”
“It's possible. If that were the case, it would explain why he's keeping it under wraps.”
“Guy code or whatever.”
“Right. He's been getting along pretty well with them, so it wouldn't exactly be a surprise. They kinda just do their own thing from what I've seen, but it works for them. They're like a group of drinking buddies ready and willing to go to war for each other.”
“I'm pretty sure that's what it feels like when they get in the ring.”
The two share a laugh at the thought of The Following marching into battle like the warriors that they are.
“Oh great, my assistance is needed again. I gotta go.”
“Okay, talk to you later then. Take care!”
“You too!”
They hang up. Kaiyah looks at the ground and sighs. She felt bad about having to somewhat bend the truth. While she doesn't know what it is that her husband's up to, she does know that he's been planning something before he even got back in the ring. It's possible that he's told them what it is. However, it's just as likely that he hasn't. If it were some project like the broadcast that he used to do, then he would've told her. Back then, he told her about his plans and she even assisted with many of them. This was different. Something's changed about him. Something easy to miss considering the circumstances and what he does, but maybe that's what he wanted. A veil to cover him while he worked on his secret project. Could that be it, and if so, what is it? The curiosity was starting to get to her. She wanted to know, but every time she'd ask, he'd simply tell her that the pieces were being prepared to be put together. With him essentially gone for the week, she decided today was the day that she'd start looking for answers.
The first place to search? The basement. He had spent many weeks sending messages to his opponents from there. It was as good a place as any to start. When Kaiyah turned on the light in the basement, it looked...normal? A few things scattered here and there. Nothing really seemed out of place at first. However, after searching all over for a good 20 minutes, she came across something that caught her attention. A black and white key with a little red mark on it. She picks it up and examines it.
At the same time, CJ is at the compound looking at a key with the same design before putting it in his pocket. He whispers to himself.
“One step closer to hope. One step closer to despair.”
He walks through the area, passing by Carter who's being watched like a hawk by Chase. As smart as it is to make sure there's an eye on Shaw at all times while he's there, CJ can tell that Chase is mentally punching the air right now. Honestly, he doesn't blame him for being on edge. Even in the best case scenario, he would go from ally to opponent in a matter of days. Being cautious is the optimal approach. Eliminating as many possibilities of things going wrong as possible is how one achieves success. This is no different. Speaking of eliminations and allies potentially becoming opponents, CJ is on his way to find Dandy DiVito. The duo had already proven that putting any two Following members together makes a formidable force. They were now one win away from a match to determine who enters last at Havoc. It's obvious that an advantage like that would be vital in such a chaotic skirmish, so in order to tip the scales in their favor, one of the members would need to secure that final spot. CJ finds Dandy and walks up to him to game plan.
“Thanks for the tour, Chase. It’s quite a place you’ve guys got here, I mean that,” Shaw speaks genuinely to both Chase and Kyle Kemp, who has just approached the two men as they slowly walked towards the front gates.
“Look, Shaw, it’s clear you didn’t get what you wanted by coming here today. I will not be signing anything with Philidor, no financial agreement, not anything.”
“And Kemp, it’s clear you’re not getting your way, maybe for the first time in a long time, but I appreciate the pep talks along the way. It’s a great facility you run here. I won’t knock that, even if I will continue to call it Spahn Ranch.”
Shaw fishes for his keys in his pocket, quickly putting them in with his hands into the front pouch of his hooded sweatshirt, the frigid Minnesota air dancing circles around all 3 men.
“But let’s go get this done on Clash. Lowe and Mintzel? Ain’t gonna know what hit them. Won’t matter which blow will be coming from the Philidor camp or the Following camp. All that will matter is that they all land.” Shaw speaks with a nodding head and smirk. He reaches out with an extended hand, one that Kemp accepts.
“If you don’t heal what hurt you, you’ll bleed on people who didn’t cut you,” Kemp says sternly, while shaking Shaw’s hand. Shaw’s face drops to an empty expression for a moment, absorbing the words.
“Thank you for the parting fortune cookie,” Shaw seems affected by it, even through the sarcastic brush-off. He nods at Chase, knowing that an offered hand shake wouldn’t be accepted from him. He walks past the open gate and towards his rented BMW.
Kemp and Chase stand firm to see him off, Kemp raising a hand in a wave as Shaw looks at them from the opposite side of the car. He opens the door, but before getting in, keeps his head above the roof of the car.
“Something else?” Kemp asks through visible breath.
Shaw plays with the keys in his hand as he squints across the car.
“Ya know, I was just thinkin’...I didn’t get to see Wesley. Such a shame...give him my best.” He smirks as he gets into the car and fires it up.
“You motherf-” Chase yells, instinctively launching his body forward but Kemp extends a calm arm outward to keep him at bay.
They watch Shaw drive away, the wheels in Kemp’s head clearly turning in assessment.
CJ Phoenix is somewhere amongst the trees in the forest by the Following Compound. He has a camera on a tripod facing him as he places a sign on a tree. The sign has two arrows pointing in opposite directions. One is labelled "Hope" while the other is labelled "Despair". Once finished, he turns and looks at the camera.
“It's rare to have an opportunity like this. A chance to mingle with such a malleable monster. No. That word doesn't quite fit you. You don't deserve to be called something so heinous, Nathaniel. Most people see you as a behemoth. A destructive force with intent to run over everything in your path. Not me. Even you should know that I'm always watching.....always. The real you is closer to a gentle giant. You don't fight for the sake of destruction like many of my recent adversaries and students did. Dishing out despair isn't your endgame. Approval is. Underneath the armor of meat lies a fragile soul that seeks acceptance and appreciation from others. It's okay, Nathaniel. Many beings naturally do the same. I don't fault you for a natural human desire. However, your inadvertent naivety has caused you to be manipulated into going down the wrong path. A path with nothing but pain, misery, and sadness. One where you'll ultimately end up gaining nothing once your strings are put down.”
CJ walks over and picks up the camera.
“I'm aware that what I've said may have flown over your head. That's why I've prepared a visual demonstration. Watch.”
He walks up to the tree with the sign on it.
“Let's pretend I'm you for a moment. I'm Nathaniel, a big man with a big heart. I'm a bit lost, however. Do I be the hope that I inspire in my fans, or do I take the path of despair and be the monster that so many see me as? I'm not sure, so I look around to my peers on the roster for help. Luckily, I find someone. He's traveling down the path of despair, but he's offering me the guidance that I feel like I need, so I go with him.”
CJ turns and walks in the direction that the "Despair" arrow is pointing in.
He stops in front of a tree with the same sign and arrows on it, except this one has "Battlebowl, 2nd round loss to CJ and Dandy" written on it.
“Uh oh. Which way do I go? My former guide isn't here, but this other guy is also on the path that despair is pointing at. I can feel an ominous aura this time, but I go down the despair path once more because I NEED people to be proud of me.”
He turns and walks until he finds a third tree. Same sign, except this one is titled "Lesson Ignored".
“No one's here. What do I do now? I'd try the hope path, but none of my guides did, so I stick with despair....because it's the only thing I know.”
He turns and walks to another tree. The sign on this one has both arrows pointing in the same direction with "Despair" written under them. CJ walks down the pathway until he finds the tripod.
“I'm back to square one. I've made no progress, and those that I tried my hardest to impress are gone. Now I'm NATE because I'm hurt, broken, and lost once more.”
CJ stares into the lens.
“Is that what you want, Nathaniel? A downward spiral of despair? You need hope, and in order to obtain that hope, you need freedom. Freedom from the chains binding you to the evil that is James Nightingale.”
He walks down the despair path once more until he reaches the second signed tree.
“This is where it starts. By defeating the two of you, we will be the blade that severs the ties between you and an abysmal future.”
He starts walking down the "Hope" path until he arrives at the front of the compound.
“This is what happens when you combine hope and despair the right way. We're aware that James will use you as his personal wrecking ball and meat shield, but not even your brute force and his underhanded tactics hold a candle to the shield and sword that is the Following. I watch my brother's back like I have eyes in the back of HIS head. You can't say the same about your partner, can you? It's time you see the truth, Nathaniel. When Clash comes, be prepared to say goodbye to the Battlebowl tournament and the corrupted beast that you once were.”
Back in the compound, Dandy is pacing in front of the fireplace. Kemp is sitting calmly in a wingback chair, Chase is standing behind Kemp’s chair wearing a look of disgust on his face, and CJ’s watching the lot of them tensely.
“That motherfucker said WHAT?”
“Dandy… keep your wits. Everything is ”
“He’s out here rubbing your fucking nose in Wesley and I’m s’posed ta stay cool?!”
“I have to agree, Kemp. That piece of shit can’t get away with that!”
Dandy nods emphatically and points at Chase.
“See?! I AIN’T ON AN ISLAND HERE, MAN!”
Kemp tenses up sensing that he’s losing his compatriots, but he remains outwardly calm.
“What the fuck, Kemp?! How the fuck you just gon’ be so fuckin’ chill?! You brought that stray fuckin’ dog into OUR HOME an’ he pissed on the fuckin’ floor righ’ in front of yo’ ass, and here you sit, just doin’ fuckin’ nothin’ ‘bout it?!”
A door opens down the hall as Kemp’s gaze meets Dandy’s. The fire in Kemp’s eyes stops Dandy’s pacing dead in its tracks. Kemp speaks, his voice finally carrying some obvious anger. As he speaks he stands from his seated position and the only competing noise is an odd clicking coming down the hall.
“DON’T YOU THINK I’VE BEEN CONSIDERING RESPONSES TO HIS EGREGIOUS INSULT SINCE SHAW SAID ANYTHING?”
Kemp lets out a series of rapid, angry breaths as he and Dandy stare one another down. The moment is tense and the room is silent. A powerful but wounded voice breaks the silence.
“Will you two suck stop puffing out your goddamn chests and sit the hell down? I’ll be damned if this place gets torn apart over little ol’ me.”
Every eye in the room flies to the open doorway where Wesley stands weakly on his own two feet with the assistance of a crutch. Wesley’s wrapped up like a medical mummy. A neck brace. A sling. Bandages. Chase rushes to Wesley to help him to the parlor’s couch.
“I’m out for what? A month? And you boys are here at each other’s throats? ABOUT ME?! Come on!”
Dandy hangs his head a bit and nods. Kemp nods and slinks back into his chair.
“I’m sorry, Kemp.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m sorry, too, guys.”
“No matter what happens to any of us, the biggest prize Philidor could ever hope to win is tearing us apart. They will do it however they can. They probably sent Shaw to do… well, this to us.”
Wesley lets out a pained sigh as he adjusts his weight.
“Let me guess, he tried to buy us for Philidor?”
Kemp raises his eyebrows and shakes his head as if to say how did you know?
“That’s what I thought. Are we hurting for money, Kemp?”
“No, Wesley. I still have plenty of money left on the inheritance. Philidor just...well, you know.”
“Kemp, if you ever fuckin’ need it, I got mo’ money than fuckin’ god, a’ight? Them mo’fuckas ain’t got no home here.”
Kemp looks at Dandy and smiles.
“I appreciate it, Dandy, but I promise, we’re ok. You’re right though, Philidor can take no quarter here.”
Wesley strains to speak again.
“Kemp, you need to be very careful at Battlebowl. When Philidor can’t buy the solutions to their problems, they, uh, well…”
Wesley carefully gestures to his own injuries. CJ winces in sympathy pains.
“If you give him an inch, he will, without a doubt, take a mile, and if you go down, this whole family falls. You’re the spirit of The Following, Kemp.”
Wesley struggles to shift himself to look at Dandy.
“Dandy, you’re the fire in our belly.”
Wesley struggles to shift toward Chase.
“Chase, you’re the heart.”
Wesley struggles again to shift toward CJ.
“CJ, you’re the eyes.”
Dandy butts in.
“Wes, you the hope.”
A pained smile crawls across Wesley’s face as he struggles to speak again.
“We’re all here together for a reason. Each one of us makes everyone else here better, but if we let Philidor turn us against one another, not only will you not make it to the Battlebowl finals but the Following will fall apart completely.”
To the best of his ability, Wesley raises one hand into the air with an open palm. One by one, each member stands and raises his open hand into the air in response.
The main corridor is wide and spacious; clean. Chase is clearly not happy, sporting an angry frown as he stays on the heels of Shaw as they both enter The Following’s facility.
“Just keep walkin’, Shaw,” Chase says in the vocal tone of a prisoner guard. Eager to protect what they have, he doesn’t trust the invited visitor one bit.
“Who are you, again?” Shaw asks with a smirk, glancing over his shoulder at Chase. Chase does his best to not let the attempted irritation get under his skin. The two keep walking, Shaw taking in all he can see. They walk by large double doors, the training room with a professional sized wrestling ring in view. Shaw cocks his head, looking in. CJ Phoenix is hard at work in the ring, oiling up new moves and keeping his fundamentals strong with training partners. Shaw nods in appreciation for it.
“I pictured something different before I started looking into this place. Thought I’d see more hot dog stands or ice cream trucks. Maybe a huge cannabis field. You don’t have a field of weed, do ya? I’ve got a fed connection that could shut that shit down real quick...just ask David Sanchez.”
Shaw exudes projected confidence as he continues to pry at Chase Jackson, who is simply shaking his head angrily. He goes to shove Shaw from behind as their walking pace slows, but he stops himself. Shaw notices this.
“Ah. You wouldn’t wanna do that, Chase. You don’t wanna make Dad mad by putting your hands on me.”
“Just shut the fuck up...Christ.” Chase retorts, annoyed.
As they get closer to Kyle Kemp’s office, they turn into a new hallway. Dandy DiVito is leaning against the wall, looking up to see Shaw and Chase walking by. Shaw and Dandy lock eyes. Shaw smirks with a nod; Dandy, a scowl. No words are exchanged as they communicate heat through a simple glare. Once they pass Dandy, Shaw sarcastically throws up his index and middle finger out.
“I come in peace,” He says in what sounds like an attempt at an Irish brogue.
They reach the office door, Chase pulling out a key from his pocket and unlocking the door.
“Have a seat, Shaw, Kemp will be down in a few minutes.”
Shaw squints his eyes as he gets in Chase’s face as he slowly enters the room.
“This is a nice place ya got here, I must say. Where’dya get it?” Shaw speaks as he enters the office room and approaches the desk. First thing he notices entering the room is a little camera up in the far corner. Chase closes the door to finally end his interaction with Shaw, letting out an exhale as he exchanges a glare with Dandy, still watching from far down the hallway.
“I’ll take a glass of water... You guys got any Scotch?” Shaw’s voice comes from behind the closed door.
Carter Shaw/Matthias Mintzel...names you woulda thought, about a year ago, would ascend side by side over the course of 2020. Me, raw and fresh, talented and hungry. Mintzel experienced and, well, out of shape, but he got himself there once he decided to give a shit. Me with my Television Title run, you with your outstanding Pure Title run; both reigns underappreciated, in my opinion.
All arrows pointed up for a while. You got yourself a Hardcore Title reign since we’ve last crossed paths, I’m still Mr. All-In, with the briefcase being powerful in a new and exciting way these days.
I got better and better, each and every week, absorbing everything this sport has to offer.
You got back to prime Mintzel performance.
So where did everything go wrong? Where did we lose our concurrent trajectory? Why does it feel like you, Matthias, are drowning in mediocrity while I’m riding on top of the waves?
It all comes down to one moment. One decision. One path that we each took.
You found The Loss Breed.
I found Philidor.
And, unironically, I’ve been single-handedly systematically dismantling your group of misfits over the past 2 months. David Sanchez’s dirty deeds finally came back around to get him. There’s still more skeletons in that closet, of that I have no doubt, but for right now? Sanchez has lost his political power, his ‘standing’ in AW and his influence over anybody and everybody right now.
Human trafficking has a way of doing that to a person, I suppose.
And last week? Well, by the skin of our teeth, Kyle Kemp and myself had the pleasure of sending Downfall packing alongside Dionysus, sending them both back to their drawing boards. Drawing boards that have so many goddamn erase marks etched into it, you can’t even clearly read the next plan any more.
But Downfall’s seeing the error of his ways. Nightingale doesn’t even call you guys anymore, does he? Too busy gettin’ his old girl back. Stuck in Alice’s wonderland. Are you seeing that you’ve hitched yourself to the wrong wagon, yet?
The Loss Breed has been a sinking ship since the day ANYbody decided Nightingale was a role model. I’m sorry that you ended up being collateral forgotten damage in that mess. But that continued struggle, unfortunately, doesn’t come to an end for you this Monday on Clash.
That struggle continues. You and Lowe, a match made in hell, will fall to a Philidor/Following connection. It’s poetic in your case, Mintzel, the carousel of disaster.
So Carter Shaw continues to ascend. Still on that trajectory while you're stuck playing Chutes and Ladders with your career.
Sorry to be your next slide.
I think my current position in this company is being very misunderstood. An image such as the start of last week’s Clash, with my briefcase in hand beside the AW World Championship in Ash Blake’s...I understand that those that still root for me want me to turn around and wipe out my own compatriot. I understand that those that no longer like me call me a puppet, a marionette to the cause. But judgements and harsh words mean nothing when I continue to be the last man standing. Anything you felt, anything you thought about me falls with you to the mat in an exhausted, sweaty mess.
It puts more torque into the great Philidor Hold, as you tap your hand on the mat in order to fight another day.
That hate? That judgement? Puts the extra juice on the Simply Put, when I drop you head-first into your own shit.
There’s no shame in losing to the Man Of One Thousand Title Shots, Spencer Adams...no shame at all, Mintzel. He’s an all-time great. But now you find yourself with another fork in the road; there is at every rebuild.
Hey, I hear The Following is pretty good with self-improvement. I could put in a good word for you while I’m still finding my name beside Kyle Kemp’s in this Battlebowl. Tell ya what, when I pin you on Clash, I’ll look up at Kemp in the corner and say, “He’s gonna need you after this”, as that ref slaps the mat a third time.
I gotchu
I think the main thing holding you back, Mintzel, other than the Loss Breed chains you willingly locked around your ankle, is your lack of consistency. Your lack of focus. You seem to, atleast at this stage of your career, really need that external motivation to keep yourself going over a long period of time.
You’ve had flashes, man have you had flashes. Times where you’re the ole’ brilliant Der Schmetterling. But they’re countered by the times you look a step slow and disinterested in the necessary goal at hand. You’ve had times where you move with that quickness, you show that alertness that sets you apart from the ‘big men’. And they’ve been countered by those nights where you rely on an old trick one too many times and lose sight of your own versatility.
It’s too bad The Loss Breed didn’t supply you with that external motivation you need. It’s too bad NATE isn’t able to either. Traw Ma doesn’t. The Hardcore Title didn’t. The Pure Title didn’t. AW doesn’t. What will it take to draw that focus out long-term, Mintzel?
Me?
What if you set your biggest goal in the simplest of ways?
“Try to be better than Carter Shaw.”
We’re linked in time, Matthias. I would be honored to be that motivation for you. Watch me as I sport the Philidor Holdings sponsorship, hold the All-In briefcase...watch me as I make me way to the final battle of this OG Bishop Battlebowl Memorial and end up snagging that #30 spot in the Havoc Rumble. Watch me as I continue to turn heads and make my name matter.
As you sit back in that ring on Monday night, lean your head against the near rope, and watch the victorious team of Carter Shaw and Kyle Kemp retreat up the ramp, creating another roadblock for you…
Take it all in and commit yourself to “Try and be better than Carter Shaw”. Will you get there? No, probably not. But that FOCUS will take you to those ‘places’ you claim you can access, but fail when it becomes a physical possibility.
Let me help your focus, by being your focus.
Let me make you a better Matthias Mintzel.
…
Oh fuck...
Kemp walks up to the door to his office where Chase is standing outside, guarding the door. He smiles at the enthusiasm that Chase has for making sure no one enters the office. He puts his hand on Chase’s shoulder.
“How is our guest doing?”
Chase smirks.
“He’s impressed. Who wouldn’t be walking in here with what we have? I think he has reservations but he’s right where you want him.”
Kemp nods and instinctively smooths out his shirt before saying one last thing.
“Stay here. I want you to take him to the training center when we’re done and have him watch the afternoon session.”
Chase nods as Kemp gives him a reassuring smile before opening the door to the office. Shaw is sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Kemps desk. Shaw stands as Kemp walks up to him and they shake hands.
“It’s good to see you, my friend.”
Shaw smirks.
“The last time I saw you, you were getting pulled down a hallway by Downfall.”
“Yep and you were getting shoved into a locker room.”
“What can I say? I’m not one to walk away from a fight.”
Kemp laughs as he crosses to the other side of the desk and takes a seat. Shaw also takes a seat and both men pause before Kemp breaks the silence.
“DId you think you would be here a week ago?”
Shaw chuckles and shakes his head.
“Not a chance but you didn’t think I would be either.”
“I didn’t think you would be but I was hopeful. I was hopeful we could come to some kind of agreement. I was even more hopeful after our talk last week.”
Both men take a second to adjust in their seats, both knowing the conversation is about to take a more serious tone.
“I wanted to talk to you about that. Our talk did get me thinking and coming here and seeing your operation has opened my eyes even more. I see why you are successful! This isn’t a business arrangement for you. This is a family. All of these people look up to you for guidance. You hold all of their hopes and dreams in your hands. You hold their futures! The Following is truly about making all of these people better.”
Kemp nods but has a small look of concern in his eye. He can tell that Shaw is getting to something. He leans forward.
“That’s correct. Everything I say isn’t a catchphrase. It’s the truth. I look after each and every member of The Following like they were my own child. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for them.”
“And that’s admirable. I’m happy to hear you say that because rather than joining you in The Following I have a much better alternative for all parties.”
Kemp smirks.
“There it is. I knew you had something up your sleeve.”
“What can I say? I’m not Mr. All In for no reason.”
Shaw reaches down next to him and pulls his bag onto his lap. He pulls a folder out and tosses it onto the desk. Kemp picks it up and opens it. Inside is a stack of legal documents. Kemp looks up from the folder and at Shaw's smiling face.
“That stack of papers is a legally binding real estate deal. The piece of real estate it’s for is this compound and…”
Kemp scoffs and tosses the papers back onto the desk.
“What are you trying to pull here?”
“I’m not trying to pull anything. I may be impressed by your operation but it doesn’t take a genius to see the problem you have. That problem is affording all of this. At Philidor we have access to files that many believe are private. I know about your financial issues.”
Kemp shakes his head.
“There are no financial issues. The compound was paid for when I used my inheritance money to buy it.”
“That may be true but what about property taxes? Utilities? The food that you provide in this compound for all of these people? The costs to house all of these people will add up. In fact I already know they are.”
Kemp’s face turns cold as he glares at Shaw.
“You may think you know something but the truth is that you don’t know shit. I dump my paychecks into this place. I use all the money I make to make this ship run. We have other means as well. This…”
“Isn’t my concern? I think you made it my concern when you practically begged me to join you last week.”
“Begged you? I did no such thing. In fact I gave you the same opportunity that I’ve given all of these other people.”
“But I’m not these other people. I’m Carter Shaw and I represent Philiodor Holdings. Let’s be real. That’s the real reason you want me. You want to hurt Philidor. It’s not that you want to ‘make me a better person.’”
Now it’s Shaw that leans back in his chair.
“Kyle, this place is going to bleed you dry. Then what? How do you help all of these people when you have nowhere else to go? How do you help all of these people when there’s no money?”
Kemp pauses for a second, running what he just said through his mind before responding.
“And what solution do you have in these papers?”
“Well, before you got all hot and bothered I was going to finish OUR offer. The offer is that you sell the compound to Philidor Holdings. We, in turn, will rent this place to you at a cheaper rate than what you were spending on your other costs. We will also provide room and board to each member of The Following to stay here for a very miniscule cost. We make money. You stay afloat.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“No.”
Kemp takes a deep breath.
“What else?”
“Not only do you agree to move The Following under the Philidor umbrella but you agree to be ‘The Following presented by Philidor Holdings.’ You agree to help us in whatever we need. You protect our people and make them better over everyone else. Oh and one last thing... You abandon your little revenge crusade against Ash Blake and agree to protect her and any of the other sponsored wrestlers.”
“Basically you want us to do the job the HR Department couldn’t do. We just become your own security force.”
“No, you become what you wanted to be. Better than everyone else. You just do that with Philidor’s money.”
Kemp and Shaw exchange a long glare before Shaw gets up and walks to the door.
“I assume my shadow is waiting out here for me. I’ll let you think about all of this. Chase still gonna give me the tour of the place like we talked about?”
Kemp nods with pursed lips as Shaw opens the door and nods at Chase. Chase follows closely to give a full tour; they stop for a moment as Dandy is standing very close to the door in the hallway.
Hello Frank. At long last will we come face to face in the middle of the ring. I have longed to step in the ring with you. How long I have dreamed of taking on the man that so many are scared of. The reason that they’re scared of you is because you killed a man. That fact has caused you to win so many matches. All everyone sees is Raging Dead passing away at your hands and with that fact implanted into their minds you have been able to beat so many. The match is won before you even get into the ring. That won’t happen with me and I refuse to let Carter Shaw fall into that trap either.
That’s because when I look at you I don’t see a murderer. I see an emotionally repressed man whose daddy issues have run every decision in his life. I see a man who has kept in every single emotion all because he was afraid to show just a little bit of who he was because he might show a little bit too much to the world. I see a man that can easily be beaten when you dig under the bravado.
What? Have a problem with any of that Frank?
Or does it all ring a little to true?
You don’t have to answer that. We both know what the real answer is. Don’t worry though Frank. For the first time in your life you stand before someone that will accept you for who you are. You stand before someone who doesn’t care if you want to smile. I don’t care if you want to dance. Hell I don’t care if you want to cry. All I care about is opening your mind to a better you!
Can you imagine Frank? What would you do if you could really access your entire mind? What if you didn’t need to be rough and arrogant all the time? What if you didn’t need to be so angry? What if you could finally balance out your emotions? Imagine everything you could do. Imagine the new heights you could reach. Because let’s be real. You’ve grown stagnant.
Now some might look into that statement and laugh, claiming that your big “win” at Revolution says otherwise but is beating Corey Bull a big “win”? Is making Corey Bull join you really something to brag about? Let’s be real. Corey Bull isn’t the fast rising prospect many thought he was this time a year ago. Just like you aren’t the same rising star many thought you were six months ago. Losses have piled up. Championships have been lost. Credibility has disappeared. And as that credibility has disappeared so has your logic.
In fact you have started to let the one thing that you were supposed to keep suppressed come out. Emotions. Your supposed to be a tough guy all the time. Remember Frank? That’s what your father would say. He would call you a pussy for letting everyone know you were frustrated. He’d drag you in the back room and spank you for letting everyone know you were slowly losing your confidence. Hell I bet he would beat you within an inch of your life knowing you were teaming with the guy that took your Hardcore Championship.
Sit there and think about it Frank. What would daddy have done if he knew you were being submissive to the guy that took what you had worked hard to earn? What would he do if he knew you were letting him carry you into the finals of the BattleBowl? Because let’s be real. That’s exactly what Mintzel is doing. Am I wrong? I don’t think so.
Think about it. Until he got his ass kicked by Spencer Adams he had turned away all challengers since he beat you. He was on a roll. And before you use the excuse that win he took the title from you he didn’t pin you, he pinned you in your rematch. He beat you. He was more aggressive than you. He was more willing to do whatever it took to win. The fact of the matter is that he was better than you and continues to be better than you.
And that bothers you Frank. I know it does. I can see it in your eyes. I saw it last week when you made your entrances and the look you gave Mintzel. You can’t stand knowing that there’s one man that can stand in front of you in Action Wrestling and say that they own you. That man in your mind is Mintzel. He took everything you have and spit it right back in your face! He took all that bravado, arrogance and tough guy attitude and kicked your ass. Now you kiss his ass!
Do you like that Frank? I doubt it. That’s why I have a solution for you. Leave the Hangmen behind. Join The Following. Because if you don’t, you’re going to have one more guy that owns you. That guy is Kyle Kemp! FOLLOW THE FOLLOWING!
As Shaw exits Kemp’s office, he winks at Dandy who is waiting in the hall.
“I think the boss will see you now, champ.”
“Man, fuck you, Shaw.”
Shaw laughs as he walks down the hall away from Kemp’s office with Chase accompanying him. Dandy sneers and shakes his head as he knocks and enters Kemp’s office. Dandy takes the same seat that Shaw just occupied.
“Should I just be real wit’chu an’ admit I was listenin’ through the fuckin’ door or do you want me to play stupid so you can explain that shit to me?”
Kemp smiles and shakes his head.
“Let’s just forget the pretense. What’s on your mind?”
“You hurtin’ for money?”
“Good, good. I like straight forward questions, because they permit straight forward answers. Mine is ‘No, Dandy.’”
“Shaw seemed to be pretty fuckin’ sure you was.”
“Dandy, when you’re a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. Philidor sees everything as something to be bought and paid for. That’s it. There’s no fire here. Hell, there’s no smoke.”
A weight lifts off of Dandy’s shoulders.
“A’ight. Good.”
Kemp’s lips curl up to offer a comforting smile.
“Is that all you need?”
“You really tryin’ ta recruit Carter Shaw to join us?”
“I made a real effort there, yes, but it certainly doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen.”
Dandy leans forward, the moment is stern and serious.
“I don’t think him joinin’ us woulda been good, man.”
“Why not?”
“He’s a fuckin’ asshole, Kemp. He don’t belong.”
Kemp laughs.
“If I didn’t try to make room for the folks that others think are assholes… well, let’s just say the tag team title picture would look a lot different, brother.”
Dandy smiles and the pair share a laugh for a moment.
“Ok, ok. Point taken.”
Dandy pauses for a moment as tension returns to his appeal.
“But look, I don’t trust that mo’fucka at all, Kemp. I think he a fuckin’ snake, an’ if you let ‘im get too close, he gon’ bite yo’ ass. Ain’t nothin’ worth that. Not the last spot in Havoc. Not havin’ debts wiped out. Not a goddamn thing.”
“I understand your reservations, Dandy, and I thank you for sharing them with me.”
Dandy shakes his head anxiously .
“Kemp, I don’t think you gettin’ how fuckin’ bad this could be, man.”
“I do.”
Dandy stands swiftly, his voice rises to a yell.
“THEM’S THE MO’FUCKAS WHO MERC’ED WESLEY, DAMNIT!”
Dandy takes a deep, emotional breath and his voice returns to normal.
“That ain’t the kinda shit a man can forget, let alone fuckin’ forgive, Kyle. I can’t. We can’t.”
Dandy interlaces his fingers behind his head and lets out a sigh. Kemp stands in an attempt to soothe Dandy, but Dandy waves him off and leaves the office.
“Dandy… wait… Dandy?”
Oh, man. I fuckin’ love tournaments, man. I love how shit happens in these bitches that ain’t never gon’ happen otherwise. I mean, shit, if it ain’t for a tourney, how the fuck y’all ever gon’ see Dandy squarin’ up wit’ James Nightengale nowadays? Seems the only fuckin’ way that spineless li’l fuck ever be standin’ across from me is when he ain’t got no fuckin’ say in the matter. When we in a big multiman shitshow or we got some fuck-fuck playin’ tourney bracket, he here for it, but y’all ain’t never seen Dandy DiVito one-on-one wit’ James Nightingale for one fuckin’ reason: the mo’fucka’s scared. Period. An’ look, I get it. Ev’ry damn thing that mo’fucka eva done, I done it all better befo’ he was even in the fuckin’ picture. In 2019, I locked down a fuckin’ epic, six-month feud wit’ Kiddy. In 2020, that li’l bitch decided to try playn’ copycat, ‘cept when it was all done wit’ me an’ Kiddy, we locked down the best fuckin’ feud of the year an’ he jus’ got he Cheereos pissed in. I beat Sam’s ass for six months when Sam was an active, dedicated fuckin’ member of the roster. Jimmy? He got his ass beat over an’ over by a man who didn’t have no time to focus on that in-ring shit for literally the whole ass time they was ‘fightin’.’
When I set out an’ made myself the fuckin’ challenger for the world title, I not only won that shit, but I held the fuckin’ fort down for months on end in huge shit show multiman mess after huge shit show multiman mess. I beat the whole fuckin’ roster time an’ time again to win and then hold my fuckin’ strap. Jimmy? He got shot after shot after shot to hol’ down that fort in straight up, one-on-one contests, an’ y’all notice the mo’fucka ain’t got nothin’ to show fo’ it? I mean, fuck, dude went an’ had his gang of bad bois show up an’ trash the fuckin’ ring and put a hurtin’ on the big dipshit Wally, and even when them odds was FUCKIN’ STTTTTTTACCCCCCCKKKKKKKEDDDD he STILL couldn’t win the big one and take big goldie home fo’ even a night. Dude, at some point, even a delusional mo’fuck’s gotta have an epiphany an’ deal wit’ facts an’ realize that he ain’t even half the badass he thinkin’ he is. Yo’ time’s up, Nighty-Nights. Let’s bring yo’ fuckin’ wildly unearned ego trip into fuckin’ check here, huh, son?
You the leader of a stable that ain’t done DICK in almost a fuckin’ year. Y’all ain’t the fuckin’ Lost Breed, you the fuckin’ Lost Point, ‘cause they ain’t NOBODY who watches what y’all doin’ and can even remotely fuckin’ understand what yo’ end game is. Either y’all are fucking TERRIBLE at havin’ a point OR y’all are fuckin’ worse than booty at gettin’ the job done. Them’s the only two options though, son, so pick yo’ poison an’ drink that shit up like you was some 14 year ole girl in a Shakespear play. At the end of it all, whether you fuckin’ take that shit on yo’ own or you wait for me to hol’ yo’ fuckin’ gullet open and forcibly feed you that shit, the reality of jus’ how fuckin’ inept yo’ ass is will fuckin’ crush you, Jimmy. At this point, you tellin’ the world how fuckin’ good you is is just as good as them mo’fuckas who still tellin’ the world that global warmin’ ain’t real. Everyone all around you is just noddin’ as you scream while we hopin’ you’ll just shut the fuck up about that nonsense we all see clear as day you wrong ‘bout. But if it makes you feel better to grasp at some kinda relevance, keep at it Jimmy. I guess I can spot you that shit. If I had swung an’ missed as many times in my career that you has in yo’s, I’d prolly be bendin’ over backward all the damn time to tell myself I didn’t suck jus’ like you doin’ all the damn time. Shit, man. If you was American, I might honestly jus’ fuckin’ confuse yo’ ass wit’ Trump at this point. But jus’ like yo’ philosophical bro Donny JT, the sooner you come to terms wit’ the reality of it all... the sooner you accept that yo’ been given a whole fuckin’ assload a’ opportunities an’ yo’ burned ‘em all up faster than Cheech an’ Chong… the sooner you just fuckin’ deal wit’ the fact that yo’ fuckin’ career is all fuckin’ an’ no cummin’... the better yo’ life is gon’ be, my man.
Hell, you start facin’ facts and MAYBE yo’ ass can finally accomplish somethin’ that matters. MAYBE yo’ ass can start doin’ somethin’ that’s worth a fuckin’ shit. But goddamn, son, the longer you insist on lettin’ the focus of yo’ whole fuckin’ life in AW be orbittin’ aroun’ the idea that you a made man… the longer that you got all the tools in yo’ toolbox that you could ever need to be the fuckin’ king of the game… the longer you keep standin’ over the bed wit’ the knife but not having the fuckin’ NUTS to plunge that shit home… Well, you gon’ just continue bein’ the man that almost was somethin’. You’ll just always be that also ran, an’ the bes’ you can hope for is to be the fuckin’ 90’s Bills. You might always find yo’self in the hunt, but when push comes to shove, yo’ find yo’self gettin’ yo’ shit pushed in by the fuckin’ Cowboys.
So when we get to Clash, Jimmy, I’ma give you that last push you need to just fuckin’ fall off the cliff here. I’ma smack the fuckin’ sense you CLEARLY lackin’ into yo’ dumb ass. Fo’ yo’ sake? I hope you figure some shit out, ‘cause obviously you fulla potential. Unfortunately, right now though, you WAY MORE full a’ shit than potential, Jimmy.
Success. Victory. Another step forward. CJ Phoenix should arguably still be celebrating his first round victory with fellow Following brother Dandy DiVito. Instead, he's not. The 24 hour rule has passed. A first round win by itself doesn't win a championship. There are still many more obstacles to overcome, and CJ knows this. Thus, whatever time he isn't spending with his wife is being taken up by his training at the Following Compound as well as a personal project that he's been working on. Meanwhile, two of the people that have been around him the most are on the phone with each other, his wife, Kaiyah, and the intern-turned-assistant he's been working with, Vanessa.
“He's not giving you too much trouble, is he, Vanessa?”
“Nope. Just making sure I'm adjusting to working here. He put in a good word for me and the higher ups like my work ethic, so I got hired full-time as an assistant this morning!”
“Congratulations! You've come a long way in a short time, you know.”
“Yes, ma'am, I have, and it's all thanks to you two. Between him taking me under his wing and you covering my college expenses, things have been A LOT less stressful and much more manageable.”
“Excellent! It's a lot easier to get things done when you don't have a million other things to worry about.”
“Right! Now I can just focus on helping people out....and trying to figure out what it is that CJ's up to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sorry, I'm sure it's none of my business, but it's clear that he's working on something. He's just not telling me what it is. I'm sure it's because I'm just an assistant.”
“...no. No, it's not that. He hasn't told me either.”
“WHAT!? Why not!?”
“I don't know.”
“Maybe it's a secret between him and the other guys in the Following?”
“It's possible. If that were the case, it would explain why he's keeping it under wraps.”
“Guy code or whatever.”
“Right. He's been getting along pretty well with them, so it wouldn't exactly be a surprise. They kinda just do their own thing from what I've seen, but it works for them. They're like a group of drinking buddies ready and willing to go to war for each other.”
“I'm pretty sure that's what it feels like when they get in the ring.”
The two share a laugh at the thought of The Following marching into battle like the warriors that they are.
“Oh great, my assistance is needed again. I gotta go.”
“Okay, talk to you later then. Take care!”
“You too!”
They hang up. Kaiyah looks at the ground and sighs. She felt bad about having to somewhat bend the truth. While she doesn't know what it is that her husband's up to, she does know that he's been planning something before he even got back in the ring. It's possible that he's told them what it is. However, it's just as likely that he hasn't. If it were some project like the broadcast that he used to do, then he would've told her. Back then, he told her about his plans and she even assisted with many of them. This was different. Something's changed about him. Something easy to miss considering the circumstances and what he does, but maybe that's what he wanted. A veil to cover him while he worked on his secret project. Could that be it, and if so, what is it? The curiosity was starting to get to her. She wanted to know, but every time she'd ask, he'd simply tell her that the pieces were being prepared to be put together. With him essentially gone for the week, she decided today was the day that she'd start looking for answers.
The first place to search? The basement. He had spent many weeks sending messages to his opponents from there. It was as good a place as any to start. When Kaiyah turned on the light in the basement, it looked...normal? A few things scattered here and there. Nothing really seemed out of place at first. However, after searching all over for a good 20 minutes, she came across something that caught her attention. A black and white key with a little red mark on it. She picks it up and examines it.
At the same time, CJ is at the compound looking at a key with the same design before putting it in his pocket. He whispers to himself.
“One step closer to hope. One step closer to despair.”
He walks through the area, passing by Carter who's being watched like a hawk by Chase. As smart as it is to make sure there's an eye on Shaw at all times while he's there, CJ can tell that Chase is mentally punching the air right now. Honestly, he doesn't blame him for being on edge. Even in the best case scenario, he would go from ally to opponent in a matter of days. Being cautious is the optimal approach. Eliminating as many possibilities of things going wrong as possible is how one achieves success. This is no different. Speaking of eliminations and allies potentially becoming opponents, CJ is on his way to find Dandy DiVito. The duo had already proven that putting any two Following members together makes a formidable force. They were now one win away from a match to determine who enters last at Havoc. It's obvious that an advantage like that would be vital in such a chaotic skirmish, so in order to tip the scales in their favor, one of the members would need to secure that final spot. CJ finds Dandy and walks up to him to game plan.
“Thanks for the tour, Chase. It’s quite a place you’ve guys got here, I mean that,” Shaw speaks genuinely to both Chase and Kyle Kemp, who has just approached the two men as they slowly walked towards the front gates.
“Look, Shaw, it’s clear you didn’t get what you wanted by coming here today. I will not be signing anything with Philidor, no financial agreement, not anything.”
“And Kemp, it’s clear you’re not getting your way, maybe for the first time in a long time, but I appreciate the pep talks along the way. It’s a great facility you run here. I won’t knock that, even if I will continue to call it Spahn Ranch.”
Shaw fishes for his keys in his pocket, quickly putting them in with his hands into the front pouch of his hooded sweatshirt, the frigid Minnesota air dancing circles around all 3 men.
“But let’s go get this done on Clash. Lowe and Mintzel? Ain’t gonna know what hit them. Won’t matter which blow will be coming from the Philidor camp or the Following camp. All that will matter is that they all land.” Shaw speaks with a nodding head and smirk. He reaches out with an extended hand, one that Kemp accepts.
“If you don’t heal what hurt you, you’ll bleed on people who didn’t cut you,” Kemp says sternly, while shaking Shaw’s hand. Shaw’s face drops to an empty expression for a moment, absorbing the words.
“Thank you for the parting fortune cookie,” Shaw seems affected by it, even through the sarcastic brush-off. He nods at Chase, knowing that an offered hand shake wouldn’t be accepted from him. He walks past the open gate and towards his rented BMW.
Kemp and Chase stand firm to see him off, Kemp raising a hand in a wave as Shaw looks at them from the opposite side of the car. He opens the door, but before getting in, keeps his head above the roof of the car.
“Something else?” Kemp asks through visible breath.
Shaw plays with the keys in his hand as he squints across the car.
“Ya know, I was just thinkin’...I didn’t get to see Wesley. Such a shame...give him my best.” He smirks as he gets into the car and fires it up.
“You motherf-” Chase yells, instinctively launching his body forward but Kemp extends a calm arm outward to keep him at bay.
They watch Shaw drive away, the wheels in Kemp’s head clearly turning in assessment.
CJ Phoenix is somewhere amongst the trees in the forest by the Following Compound. He has a camera on a tripod facing him as he places a sign on a tree. The sign has two arrows pointing in opposite directions. One is labelled "Hope" while the other is labelled "Despair". Once finished, he turns and looks at the camera.
“It's rare to have an opportunity like this. A chance to mingle with such a malleable monster. No. That word doesn't quite fit you. You don't deserve to be called something so heinous, Nathaniel. Most people see you as a behemoth. A destructive force with intent to run over everything in your path. Not me. Even you should know that I'm always watching.....always. The real you is closer to a gentle giant. You don't fight for the sake of destruction like many of my recent adversaries and students did. Dishing out despair isn't your endgame. Approval is. Underneath the armor of meat lies a fragile soul that seeks acceptance and appreciation from others. It's okay, Nathaniel. Many beings naturally do the same. I don't fault you for a natural human desire. However, your inadvertent naivety has caused you to be manipulated into going down the wrong path. A path with nothing but pain, misery, and sadness. One where you'll ultimately end up gaining nothing once your strings are put down.”
CJ walks over and picks up the camera.
“I'm aware that what I've said may have flown over your head. That's why I've prepared a visual demonstration. Watch.”
He walks up to the tree with the sign on it.
“Let's pretend I'm you for a moment. I'm Nathaniel, a big man with a big heart. I'm a bit lost, however. Do I be the hope that I inspire in my fans, or do I take the path of despair and be the monster that so many see me as? I'm not sure, so I look around to my peers on the roster for help. Luckily, I find someone. He's traveling down the path of despair, but he's offering me the guidance that I feel like I need, so I go with him.”
CJ turns and walks in the direction that the "Despair" arrow is pointing in.
He stops in front of a tree with the same sign and arrows on it, except this one has "Battlebowl, 2nd round loss to CJ and Dandy" written on it.
“Uh oh. Which way do I go? My former guide isn't here, but this other guy is also on the path that despair is pointing at. I can feel an ominous aura this time, but I go down the despair path once more because I NEED people to be proud of me.”
He turns and walks until he finds a third tree. Same sign, except this one is titled "Lesson Ignored".
“No one's here. What do I do now? I'd try the hope path, but none of my guides did, so I stick with despair....because it's the only thing I know.”
He turns and walks to another tree. The sign on this one has both arrows pointing in the same direction with "Despair" written under them. CJ walks down the pathway until he finds the tripod.
“I'm back to square one. I've made no progress, and those that I tried my hardest to impress are gone. Now I'm NATE because I'm hurt, broken, and lost once more.”
CJ stares into the lens.
“Is that what you want, Nathaniel? A downward spiral of despair? You need hope, and in order to obtain that hope, you need freedom. Freedom from the chains binding you to the evil that is James Nightingale.”
He walks down the despair path once more until he reaches the second signed tree.
“This is where it starts. By defeating the two of you, we will be the blade that severs the ties between you and an abysmal future.”
He starts walking down the "Hope" path until he arrives at the front of the compound.
“This is what happens when you combine hope and despair the right way. We're aware that James will use you as his personal wrecking ball and meat shield, but not even your brute force and his underhanded tactics hold a candle to the shield and sword that is the Following. I watch my brother's back like I have eyes in the back of HIS head. You can't say the same about your partner, can you? It's time you see the truth, Nathaniel. When Clash comes, be prepared to say goodbye to the Battlebowl tournament and the corrupted beast that you once were.”
Back in the compound, Dandy is pacing in front of the fireplace. Kemp is sitting calmly in a wingback chair, Chase is standing behind Kemp’s chair wearing a look of disgust on his face, and CJ’s watching the lot of them tensely.
“That motherfucker said WHAT?”
“Dandy… keep your wits. Everything is ”
“He’s out here rubbing your fucking nose in Wesley and I’m s’posed ta stay cool?!”
“I have to agree, Kemp. That piece of shit can’t get away with that!”
Dandy nods emphatically and points at Chase.
“See?! I AIN’T ON AN ISLAND HERE, MAN!”
Kemp tenses up sensing that he’s losing his compatriots, but he remains outwardly calm.
“What the fuck, Kemp?! How the fuck you just gon’ be so fuckin’ chill?! You brought that stray fuckin’ dog into OUR HOME an’ he pissed on the fuckin’ floor righ’ in front of yo’ ass, and here you sit, just doin’ fuckin’ nothin’ ‘bout it?!”
A door opens down the hall as Kemp’s gaze meets Dandy’s. The fire in Kemp’s eyes stops Dandy’s pacing dead in its tracks. Kemp speaks, his voice finally carrying some obvious anger. As he speaks he stands from his seated position and the only competing noise is an odd clicking coming down the hall.
“DON’T YOU THINK I’VE BEEN CONSIDERING RESPONSES TO HIS EGREGIOUS INSULT SINCE SHAW SAID ANYTHING?”
Kemp lets out a series of rapid, angry breaths as he and Dandy stare one another down. The moment is tense and the room is silent. A powerful but wounded voice breaks the silence.
“Will you two suck stop puffing out your goddamn chests and sit the hell down? I’ll be damned if this place gets torn apart over little ol’ me.”
Every eye in the room flies to the open doorway where Wesley stands weakly on his own two feet with the assistance of a crutch. Wesley’s wrapped up like a medical mummy. A neck brace. A sling. Bandages. Chase rushes to Wesley to help him to the parlor’s couch.
“I’m out for what? A month? And you boys are here at each other’s throats? ABOUT ME?! Come on!”
Dandy hangs his head a bit and nods. Kemp nods and slinks back into his chair.
“I’m sorry, Kemp.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m sorry, too, guys.”
“No matter what happens to any of us, the biggest prize Philidor could ever hope to win is tearing us apart. They will do it however they can. They probably sent Shaw to do… well, this to us.”
Wesley lets out a pained sigh as he adjusts his weight.
“Let me guess, he tried to buy us for Philidor?”
Kemp raises his eyebrows and shakes his head as if to say how did you know?
“That’s what I thought. Are we hurting for money, Kemp?”
“No, Wesley. I still have plenty of money left on the inheritance. Philidor just...well, you know.”
“Kemp, if you ever fuckin’ need it, I got mo’ money than fuckin’ god, a’ight? Them mo’fuckas ain’t got no home here.”
Kemp looks at Dandy and smiles.
“I appreciate it, Dandy, but I promise, we’re ok. You’re right though, Philidor can take no quarter here.”
Wesley strains to speak again.
“Kemp, you need to be very careful at Battlebowl. When Philidor can’t buy the solutions to their problems, they, uh, well…”
Wesley carefully gestures to his own injuries. CJ winces in sympathy pains.
“If you give him an inch, he will, without a doubt, take a mile, and if you go down, this whole family falls. You’re the spirit of The Following, Kemp.”
Wesley struggles to shift himself to look at Dandy.
“Dandy, you’re the fire in our belly.”
Wesley struggles to shift toward Chase.
“Chase, you’re the heart.”
Wesley struggles again to shift toward CJ.
“CJ, you’re the eyes.”
Dandy butts in.
“Wes, you the hope.”
A pained smile crawls across Wesley’s face as he struggles to speak again.
“We’re all here together for a reason. Each one of us makes everyone else here better, but if we let Philidor turn us against one another, not only will you not make it to the Battlebowl finals but the Following will fall apart completely.”
To the best of his ability, Wesley raises one hand into the air with an open palm. One by one, each member stands and raises his open hand into the air in response.