“Ah, for fuck’s sake,” Cid Turner mumbled to himself as Asher Hayes sped out of the driveway, making his way to his girlfriend’s place, possibly to propose marriage. The disappointment of the house being devoid of any of the promised doughnuts was only made worse by this temporary abandonment at the hands of his friend. Now, he apparently had to meet Asher’s nephew Cody in order to accomplish his mission of consuming an entire box of doughnuts in an act of comfort eating. “Why would he leave me here with some weird kid? Why, damn it?!”
Cid turned around and entered the house once again, observing the layout in front of him. Kitchen was clear. Disappointingly, so. He walked in the opposite direction of the kitchen, making his way into the lounge room. On the couch was a boy – no older than seventeen – who Cid hoped was Cody. He sat on the couch, facing a powered off television with his face buried in his hands. Cid cleared his throat to make his presence known. Cody spoke, still buried. “The number to the bakery is in the kitchen,” he said, his voice mostly muffled. “Just call it and leave me alone, please.”
Cid slowly walked forward, almost sneaking towards the couch. “Oh. So, you heard us.”
“Yes.”
Cid recalled calling him a weird kid, just moments ago. He looked out of a nearby window, realizing just how close he and Asher were to the living room while outside the front door. There was a chance that he was mumbling quietly enough to get away with the transgression. Finally, his social anxiety and generally wimpy demeanor had paid off in some way. “Well, that’s good. I don’t have to introduce myself,” Cid said as he arrived just in front of Cody, who still sat with his head in his hands. “Well, maybe it’d be polite to, still. I’m Asher’s friend, Cid.”
“Cid,” Cody mumbled to himself, almost in the tone of a question. He took his face out of his hands and looked up at his uncle’s strange friend, finally revealing himself. “Isn’t that the name of the psycho from Toy Story?”
Cid made eye contact with Cody for the first time and reeled back with a gasp. “Holy shit!” he yelped. The kid’s face was covered with bruises and scars that at least seemed to be in the process of healing. “Jesus Christ, does Asher beat the shit out of you?!”
Cody turned his face slightly and looked down at the floor, embarrassed that he decided to even show his face. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Ohh, my God,” Cid said, briskly pacing back and forth, looking down at his shuffling feet, his heart rate rising quickly. “Damn it, I can’t team with a child abuser. I can’t deal with that shit. I’m terrible at keeping secrets!”
“I said he doesn’t hit me.”
“God damn it, I’m an accomplice now,” Cid continued, just talking to himself at this point. “I don’t wanna go back to jail, man. I should have never saved his ass from Infamous. Shit!”
“I said that Asher doesn’t hit me!” Cody repeated, louder this time.
It didn’t seem to register with Cid. He collapsed onto the couch and laid back, nearly resting his head in Cody’s lap. “I can’t handle this, I can’t. I’m on the verge of another panic attack, I can feel it!”
“Snap out of it!” Cody shouted as he reached down and slapped Cid in the face.
The force of the slap sent Cid off of Cody and rolling onto the floor. He quickly pulled himself up and looked at Cody, a look of panic still on his face. “What is it with you and your family and smacking people?! Why?!”
“I’m sorry, I was trying to ground you! You’re freaking out!”
“You grounded me, all right,” Cid shot back. “Right to the fucking floor! You made it worse! I’m in the middle of a breakdown, you bruised up idiot!”
“What do I do?!” Cody asked, standing up from the couch, some of Cid’s mood clearly rubbing off on him.
“Call the bakery! Get me the doughnuts! Oh, God. I need the doughnuts,” he mumbled, pushing by Cody and laying back down on the couch, resting his hand on his chest. “Glazed. Just your standard glazed. Baker’s dozen. God, please, just hurry up.”
“Okay, okay,” Cody said quickly before running to the kitchen.
“I’m sorry that I called you a bruised up idiot!” he called out after Cody as he left the room to make the emergency bakery call. “I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean it…”
They spent the next two hours awkwardly conversing with another. On one end, you had a kid not too far removed from being physically abused by his boyfriend (not that he would indulge Cid with this information) trying to comfort a random, hairy stranger, and on the other end, you had a socially anxious wreck who believed he was in the midst of a panic attack. It wasn’t the liveliest of conversations.
While most of the feelings of panic had made their way to the wayside by this point, Cid couldn’t help but think they were simply lying in wait, ready to pounce at any moment before he’d be able to get his hands on relief in the form of an original glazed. “This is abnormal,” he said, still lying flat on his back while on the couch, Cody near his feet on a separate seat. “It shouldn’t take this long to deliver doughnuts. Something is terribly wrong.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Cody replied reassuringly. In reality, he was kind of freaking out as well. He had called his uncle Asher several times at this point, wanting someone to rescue him from this hungry intruder. “I told you, they were out of glazed, they said there’d be a bit of a wait. Everything is fine.”
“Two Goddamn hours? No. No way,” he said, clutching his beard tightly. “What if the driver’s gotten into a car accident? What if the doughnuts spilled all over the cold, hard pavement, along with the driver’s brains? Oh, God. They’re dead, aren’t they? They’re dead.”
“Man, you really are messed up. I thought this stuff only happened in movies.”
“Yeah, me too,” Cid agreed, loosening his grip on his beard and opting instead to gently caress it. “I thought mental health was a myth. Now look at me. Crumpled on a couch, hoping the paramedics take over and finish our delivery after scraping the bakery driver off the road. It’s real. It’s all real.”
“I’ve done some reading on it, y’know. I read that if you have an unprovoked panic attack, you’re more likely to suffer from them throughout your life.”
Cid shot up, readjusting himself on the couch to sit up and look Cody in the eyes. “Why the hell would you tell me that? Why?!”
Cody winced, half-shrugging in response. “Sorry, just trying to make some small talk while we wait. It was stupid, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll be fine. I read that focused breathing helps, too. Just so you know.”
“Yes, I’m fully aware. I’ve had about twenty people insist that I breathe. Breathe, as if I’m not already sucking air every day, constantly thinking that I’m quickly nearing my last breath.” Cid sighed and shook his head, looking down at the carpet. “Can’t believe I ended up here. I’m thankful for your uncle, though,” Cid said, looking back up at Cody. “He’s helped me a lot. He’s a good guy.”
To the surprise of Cid, Cody scoffed in response. “He has his own issues. I wouldn’t stroke his ego if I were you.”
“What, do you hate your uncle Asher? I thought you said he doesn’t beat you!”
“Jesus, he doesn’t! It’s not that,” Cody said, trying not to get worked up at the continued accusations from Cid. “It’s just—… I don’t know. I can’t tell if I love him or hate him sometimes. He can be a real asshole.”
“Asher’s not an asshole!” cried Cid.
“No offense, but I probably know him better than you. He has problems. I feel like he takes his frustration out on my boyfriend and I,” Cody said, suddenly catching a lump in his throat.
“Asher has problems…?” Cid asked himself quietly.
“I’m sorry,” said Cody as he cleared his throat and took a breath.
“I mean, he’s said as much, but I figured he was just trying to look stoic and troubled.”
“No, no. Listen… it doesn’t matter. I think he just hates my boyfriend and he gets all butthurt about it. I don’t think he understands our relationship and it just pisses me off. I guess it’s kind of complicated right now,” Cody admitted, once again getting a lump in his throat. Cid noticed his lip begin to quiver before he once again leaned over and put his face in his hands, beginning to cry, almost silently.
“Oh. Uh…” Before Cid could even begin to address the situation, the doorbell rang. His face lit up at the arrival of what had to be his doughnuts, but he tried his best to hide his joy just in case Cody looked up from his sobbing. As Cody continued, Cid quickly got up from the couch and sprinted to the door to collect the delivery.
Left to his own thoughts while Cid was at the front door, Cody couldn’t help but to cry even harder. It made for an awkward moment as Cid returned with a box full of doughnuts with a smile once again on his face. He walked over to Cody and looked down at him crying, the smile once again disappearing from his face.
Seeing the teen whimpering, probably snotting right back into his face with his head in his hands, Cid could easily relate to him. After all, he had found himself in that exact same position several times over the last few months. Sometimes there’s nothing left to do but sit there and snivel into your hands, like a big, stupid baby.
For Cid, a new feeling was being experienced. Empathy. He leaned down and set the box of doughnuts next to Cody, who was still in his own world. He gave Cody a couple of awkward pats on the back and spoke gently. “It’ll be okay, bud. I know all of your, uh… hormones and stuff… well, they make life interesting. Just do yourself a favor and listen to your uncle. He’s just trying to look after you. If he looks after you as well as he’s looked after me, you’ll be in good hands, man. Now, look, I’m gonna leave these with you,” he said, giving the box of doughnuts a quick couple taps. “It looks like you need them more than me.”
“Okay,” Cody mumbled, not really showing any interest in the gesture. The most appealing part to him was this bizarre man would be gone from his home. He nodded, still refusing to look up.
“All right, well,” Cid continued, “I’m pretty sure your uncle ditched me here, stranding me in a state that I’m not even remotely familiar with, so… I think I have to go to the airport. Enjoy the doughnuts, champ,” he said, starting to head towards the door. Before he could even take a step, he already started to regret giving up his comfort food. He winced and turned back, reaching over the couch and opening the box, taking a doughnut for himself. “I’ll just take one,” he whispered, starting to turn towards the door again. He reached backwards, grabbing another one. “Sorry, maybe just the two.” He took a couple steps forward but stopped once again, taking a quick couple of steps back towards the box. He reached in, grabbed another doughnut, and stacked them, finishing with three doughnuts. “Sorry, just a bit OCD, I didn’t like leaving them on an odd number, it’s just—… okay, bye,” he said awkwardly before finally making his way out of the front door, doughnuts in hand.
Upon the shutting of the front door, Cody finally looked out from behind his hands, seeing the box of thirteen doughnuts suddenly dwindled down to ten. He sighed and shook his head before grabbing a doughnut and taking a bite, slumping down further into the couch.
Clyde Warner looked in the rearview mirror at Cid and Asher, who both sat comfortably in the backseat, a drink in Asher’s hand. “Y’know, one of you guys could sit up here with me…”
“Clyde,” Cid addressed his friend/carer/student/roommate/dark web expert sternly. “I told you. The superstars sit in the backseat. You? You drive. You’re our young lion. You don’t get big boy privileges.”
“We’re the big boys, baby!” Asher cried out before taking another sip of his drink.
“Asher, it’s been an absolute honor to finally meet you,” said Clyde. “However, I’ll remind you that we’re not allowed to have opened alcohol while I’m operating the vehicle. What we’re doing now is illegal. You should know, if we’re pulled over, I can’t afford to go to jail. A high-speed chase is likely to ensue. Do you accept these terms?”
Asher pondered a moment before taking another quick sip. “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks for the warning,” he said through a snort.
Clyde nodded and returned his eyes to the road, which was about as active as Los Angeles traffic could get. Which is to say, not much. Cid shook his head and looked over towards Asher. “I’m sorry about tonight, but—”
“Tonight?” asked Asher. The two were not long removed from Breakdown, where A/C Unit drew with Bree Lancaster and Sienna Swann, while Asher lost to Glory Braddock via disqualification in a double championship match. Clyde, of course, had been invited as a guest of Cid in anticipation of Cid’s first match in over a month. “What’s wrong with tonight?”
“Well, we didn’t get the job done as a unit. Then, well, that skeevy Tommy Valentine ruined your chance to be a double champion. I know you’ve been dealing with some problems at home, so—”
“No, no,” Asher interjected, quickly shaking his hand, sneaking a sip in between sentences. “Look, tonight didn’t go the way we planned, but it could have been worse. As far as my life? Man, I told you. I’m doing good.”
“Well,” Clyde corrected from the driver’s seat.
“Thank you, Clyde,” Asher said, giving him a pat on the shoulder before turning back to Cid. “I’m doing well. Look at me, already messing up basic grammar. That’s how you know this is gonna be a good night.” He held up his drink, giving faux cheers.
Cid nodded towards the drink hung in the air. “If you’re doing so well, why the hell are you already tipsy before we even get to the bar?”
“This is celebratory,” explained Asher. “I’m gettin’ my pre-drink on. This is warm-up, brother. My relationship is going well, I’m sorting this shit out with Cody, I didn’t punch my cousin, I’m a champion, we’re doing well in the Tag League,” Asher finished with a sigh of relief. “Honestly, I feel like I’m rollin’. I’m ready to get lit tonight. This was a great idea, Clyde.”
“Oh, it wasn’t my idea,” Clyde said. “I just picked the joint. This was Cid’s idea because of his performance anxiety in the ring!”
Both Asher and Cid blinked before looking at each other. Asher shrugged and took another drink as Cid glared at the back of Clyde’s head. “Well, I thought that I had told you that in confidence, Clyde. But… okay.”
“Don’t worry about it, man,” Asher said, looking out of the window and into the LA traffic. “Hey, if you think going out and getting wasted before singing some karaoke will help you be more comfortable in the ring, I’m all for it.”
“It’s not so much being comfortable in the ring itself… it’s more performing in front of all those people,” Cid admitted. “I know it’s been a few months, but I’m still not used to crowds. God, especially now. Anyone of those jackals can hop the barricade and chop block you. I need to learn to trust the people again.”
“And what better way to connect with the people than belting out some Springsteen? I’m with ya, man.”
Clyde suddenly pulled over, securing a spot just outside the bar. “Oh, here we are,” he said, easily sliding into the empty spot. “And we got a hot spot! I guess not as many people are out partying on a Wednesday night, but trust me, this place is held in high regards. I picked it myself after looking at all of the reviews.”
All three men looked out of the window to see the entrance to the bar, sandwiched in between two other buildings. The Boulevard, read the sign above the door. It looked decent and clean enough. Asher looked on top of the roof to see four rainbow flags blowing gently in the wind. He turned back and looked at Cid. “Dude. This is a gay bar.”
Clyde reared his head back to look at Asher confusedly. “What?”
Asher turned from Cid to Clyde. “Dude, you took us to a gay bar.”
“No, no,” Clyde began with a nervous chuckle, “it had five stars on all the sites.”
“What does that have to do with anything?!”
Clyde turned back around and looked at the entrance to the bar through the windshield once again. Thinking back on his search for the perfect karaoke spot, he sighed. “I guess all those reviews talking about drag shows make more sense in retrospect now,” he pondered aloud as both Asher and Cid scoffed in unison. “That, and the phrase ‘gayroake’.”
“Screw it, we’ll go in,” declared Cid.
“Look,” started Asher, “sometimes we have fun with people assuming our relationship status, but this is a bit much, is it not?”
Clyde turned the car off and turned back excitedly to face the pair. “We’ll be the hottest throuple in there, bitches!”
“Oh my God,” Asher said, getting exasperated. The pre-drinks were probably putting a hard cap on his frustration, at least.
“All right, guys,” Cid said with confidence. “Let’s do this.”
“You know why people think we’re a gay couple?” Asher asked with no intention of letting anyone else answer. “Because we’re going to a gay bar together.”
“It’s Britney, bitch.”
The words eloquently spoken by Clyde cued the start of “Gimme More” by Britney Spears, the low-quality karaoke backing track easily filling up the small bar. The patrons of the bar – a varied audience of all genders and ethnicities – were surprisingly supportive as he danced sensually on the compact stage, doing his utmost to mimic the pop star responsible for the hit song.
“Jesus Christ,” Asher groaned from the counter of the bar, sitting on a stool while clutching a glass with only a few ice cubes remaining inside. He turned to the bartender, a startlingly handsome young man. “Think I’ll need another Jack and Coke for this one, bud.”
The bartender laughed and nodded before turning to Cid, who had opted to stand at the counter. “All right, and you?” Cid’s attention was grabbed from the stage and to the bartender. “What are we drinking tonight?”
“Oh,” Cid mumbled before clearing his throat. “May I please get a glass of milk?”
“Milk?” asked the bartender, who was now in the middle of making Asher’s drink.
“With ice.”
“Uh… I guess I can do that. It’ll be ten bucks, though.”
Cid literally physically flinched at the price reveal. “Ten fucking dollars?! That costs more than his drink!” he roared while gesturing towards Asher, his outburst disturbing the peace and other patrons around him.
“Milk is a special request drink, so it costs more,” the bartender said with a light shrug as he finished up Asher’s beverage. “I don’t make the rules, hon.”
“Hon?! Are you mocking me?!” Cid asked angrily. After a brief staredown with the man behind the counter, Cid exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’ll take the milk… for ten dollars. Damn it.”
“Ahh, just drink some alcohol, you little bitch,” Asher suggested brazenly. Cid showed his disappointment at the advice with a concerned look on his face as Asher got served his drink. Asher picked up the glass and took a big sip. After a hard swallow, he looked up at the bartender with a look of bliss. “Oh, you are awesome.”
Cid went from feeling upset to being outright angry at his friend, shooting a glare his way. “It’s just two drinks mixed together, asshole. A monkey could do it! God, how many in are you? You’re already smashed, lashing out at all your friends! Your nephew was right, you’re troubled.”
“No, I’m happy,” Asher said. “I’m letting loose, man. You should try it. Mix some liquor in that two percent.”
“It’s whole, actually,” said the bartender as he slid a cold glass of milk towards Cid.
Cid grabbed the glass and took a swig. As he brought the glass back down, a milk moustache was revealed, dripping down from above his lips and down into his beard. It disgusted pretty much everyone in the vicinity. “No, you’re not happy,” Cid insisted. “Nobody’s happy. Life is hell, Asher. Speaking with your nephew after you ditched me at your place—”
“God, again, I’m sorry,” Asher interrupted. He finished his drink, signalling the barkeep for another.
“Just more evidence you’re unwell. Anyway, talking to Cody made me realize, I need to stop dragging you down. I need to lift your drunk ass up. This needs to be an equal partnership. Just like I tried to take charge tonight against Bree and Sienna, I’m gonna take charge in this relationship.”
“Friendship.”
“Right, right. It’s time to be a man! I’m gonna get real tough, baby. I’m gonna get real hard, for you!” Cid declared, quite loudly and proudly.
Asher groaned as he received another drink. He was quick to begin chugging it down. Cid – thinking this was a celebratory chug – joined in with his glass of milk. Suddenly, a woman’s voice came from behind Cid. “Oh. My. God. Cid?!” Cid quickly stopped chugging and instinctively ducked down, as if it would hide him from whoever was recognizing him in this environment. Asher shook his head and set his drink down, paying no attention to whoever was trying to get Cid’s attention. Cid continued crouching slightly as milk dribbled all over his beard and onto his shirt, wincing in preparation of being discovered. The woman made her way around him and stood between him and Asher. Cid meekly looked up to see Holly Adams standing by his side. “Hello!” she shrieked with a huge smile on her face.
“Oh, here we go,” Asher whinged. He regretted setting his drink down in the first place, once again bringing it up and finishing it off quickly. He stood up and nodded towards Holly. “Holly,” he said flatly before looking at Cid. “I’m goin’ to the shitter,” he said in the accent of a Texan, for some reason. He walked off, making his way through the small crowd to the bathroom.
Holly cringed at Asher as he walked away. She slowly turned to Cid before gagging and shivering. “He’s so disgusting,” she said as she finished shaking off the douche chills. “God, he’s probably all shitty because I refuse to respond to his DMs. Why would you choose to have someone so sleazy as your partner?”
“Holly,” Cid began, looking around the bar before staring her down, “why the hell are you here? Are you gay?”
“Are you?”
“No, damn it! There were some… complications as we looked for a spot to hang out tonight. What’s your excuse?”
“First of all, as not only an SCW superstar but just a superstar in general, I’m welcome here,” Holly said proudly, standing up straight with a smirk on her face. “I’ve pissed off a lot of people in my time, but never the gays. I’m smart like that.”
Cid cocked his eyebrow at Holly’s odd choice of a boast. “Who said that?”
“I did, just then.”
“No, no, I’ve heard that before.”
“Yes, you did. Just seconds ago, when I birthed the phrase,” she snapped back angrily before clearing her throat and resuming a more neutral stance. “Secondly, I come to these places to feel safe from disgusting, creepy men who would hit on me in any other bar. Unfortunately, you’ve taken that safety from me by bringing Asher Hayes to the building. Just him setting foot in here probably knocked a star or two off of the hygiene rating of this place.”
Cid sighed deeply and took in his surroundings. There he was, in a gay karaoke bar with his two closest friends – glass of milk resting at his side – and now being bullied by Holly Adams, who he hadn’t even ever met until tonight. “God, what the hell am I doing?”
“Oh, sweetie, don’t ask God for advice. Just looking at you, we have to assume He gave up on you a long time ago,” she said with a spiteful giggle. “You wake up one day, grow a conscience, and then get embarrassed by Dark Fantasy at Rise to Greatness looking like… that. I guess you put up a fight, at least. Still going strong, too! Oh, well, not strong, but you know what I mean.”
After picking up his glass of milk, Cid took a few gulps. Upon setting it down, he looked behind the counter pensively as he reflected on his loss at Rise to Greatness. Feelings still lingered, both good and bad. The good, he didn’t throw a tantrum and quit on the spot like he usually would. There was noticeable growth as a person there. The bad, the further he got away from the loss, the worse it seemed to get, oddly enough. He couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to get his win back, but deeper than that, he wanted the respect of Syren. Or at least he thought he did. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted from her at this point, following an odd series of dreams involving her.
He looked at Holly, who seemed to be growing uncomfortable with the growing silence. “Holly,” he began, sounding as pensive as he had been looking for the last several moments. “Do you think it’s possible to find love in the squared circle?”
She looked at him with wary eyes and a slightly disgusted look on her face. “Um… ew. No thanks, Cid. I’d say I’m flattered, but honestly, I’m kind of used to this behavior by now from people that look like you. So… I’m mostly just indifferent.”
“Oh, I, uh… well, no, I’m not talking about you,” he replied awkwardly. “No offense.”
“Ravyn?”
“She’s scary,” admitted Cid as he gave a quick shake of his head.
Holly took a moment to think. “Wait, Zoe?”
“Who the fuck is Zoe?” Cid asked, genuinely confused.
“Um, hello, Syren? The woman who made you her bitch at Rise to Greatness?”
He looked at Holly, unsure of what to do with this personal information. He finally sat down on the empty stool and hunched over, looking deeply into his almost empty glass of milk. Zoe, he thought. What a beautiful name.
“Not that I’d blame you,” Holly commented. “Total MILF.”
Cid broke out of his stupor after hearing the somewhat crude remark. “MILF?”
“Oh, I forgot, you’re not a functioning member of society,” Holly quickly barked. “MILF stands for—“
“No, no, I know what it means,” Cid said, shaking his head before looking back at Holly. “Syren has kids?”
“Total inspiration, huh? She whoops you in front of millions and then goes back home to her family.”
“Family…” he mumbled, looking back down at his glass. Syren really had everything. Everything he wanted. At this point, he had to assume it was too late to put the work in to achieve everything that she had. He may not have peaked, but he knew he had a cap on his potential, both in and out of the ring. Sure, he could win another title or to, but who wants to be with a creepy, hairy forty year old? He was alone. Always has been, always will be.
Upon this grim realization, he sighed before finishing off his milk. Holly rolled her eyes. “Boy, you’re a fun convo,” she said sarcastically. “You bring up this weird ass question then just check out.”
Cid set his glass down and looked back towards Holly. “I was just kidding around,” he said almost without emotion. “You know me. Just… full of jokes. Always the clown.”
“Oh. Yeah. That was, uh… hilarious?” she said with a small shrug. “You’re a bummer. Now you’ve got me questioning God. Or at least myself. Why am I here, talking to you? Surely my time could be better spent.”
“I’m sorry, Holls.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Hey, you don’t have a drink,” Cid noticed as Holly reached into her purse. He assumed that there was a decent possibility he was about to get maced, but she instead pulled out her cell phone and started typing away. “What’re you having? I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Um, again, no thanks,” she said, not even looking up from her phone. “I’m not drinking tonight.”
“Oh, are you straight edge too?!” he asked, suddenly feeling excited to find a common ground with her.
“Maybe I just don’t trust what goes on in between you ordering the drink and handing it to me? I’m not trying to get roofied tonight.”
Cid laughed, despite Holly not showing any sign that she was even slightly joking. “Nonsense! Barkeep!” he shouted as he slammed the counter and looked towards the bartender. “Two milks!” He turned back to Holly. “You should know that a glass of milk here costs ten dollars. Not that I’m bribing you, but please consider that before you tell all of SCW that I frequent gay bars,” he said sheepishly. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that!”
The bartender brought two glasses of milk and set them in between Cid and Holly, who finally put away her phone. She looked at the milk blankly, unimpressed by the gesture. “Yeah… sure. I definitely won’t spread that rumor on Twitter. Just like I didn’t spread the one about Sienna spraying her snatch with Chanel No. 5.”
“Oh, shit, you started that one?”
Seemingly out of nowhere, Clyde sprinted up beside Cid, coming to an abrupt stop right at his side. Holly shrieked in surprise at Clyde, who was completely drenched in sweat, dripping it all over the floor after what must have been a very heavy karaoke session. “Cid, they wouldn’t let me pick any more because I did too many in a row,” he said in between gasps. “But you’re due up after that little bitch is done up there!”
“Oh, God, I’m nervous,” Cid said as he stood up from the stool and started lightly hopping around erratically. “Tell me you picked something good.”
“Well, the issue here is that there’s only gay people music.”
“Gay people music?!”
“Yeah, man, it’s mostly chicks, but there’s a few dudes in there. I picked Coldplay for you.”
Cid threw his head back and groaned. “Coldplay?!”
“Yeah, you know Coldplay, right?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point!”
“Um, excuse me, sorry,” Holly butted in, no longer being able to handle this inane conversation. Holly successfully caught both of their attention. “Yeah, hi. I’m gonna go now, okay?” She pointed a finger at Clyde, who was on the verge of forming a small pool of sweat at his feet. “Standing next to this little guy is making me look like Yao Ming and I’m just not in the mood to deal with blowback from a paparazzi shot putting me in that light. See y’all next week,” she said with a fake smile before quickly jetting off.
Cid looked at the two glasses of milk beside him before,calling out to an escaping Holly, “wait, you forgot your milk! It cost ten dollars, damn it!”
Finally, Asher came stumbling back from the bathroom, keeping himself upright by using the counter as support. Cid looked back at him to see a concerned look on his face. “I think the drinks are starting to hit a bit harder now,” said Asher, his look of concern making way for a wry grin, accompanied by a creepy laugh.
“We’re supposed to duet, dude,” Cid cried, his anxiety building up quickly. “You were in the bathroom for like twenty minutes! You ditched me again and left me to fend for myself against Holly! What the hell happened?!”
“Oh, I’ll duet. I wouldn’t miss this for the fuckin’ world. Who do we got?”
Cid rolled his eyes as Clyde opted to reply, “Coldplay!”
Asher’s eyes widened as he slowly turned his head towards the stage. While stumbling towards the emptying stage, he cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed. “FFFFFUUUUCCCKKK YYYYEEEEAAAHHHH!!”
Cid grasped the microphone and looked out at the small yet intimidating crowd, all presumably eager to hear someone embarrass themselves on stage. He looked back at Asher, who had taken his microphone off of the stand and decided to sit on a stool while singing because he was trusting himself less and less with standing as time went on. Returning his nervous gaze back towards the crowd, Cid knew this was the moment of truth.
Still clutching the microphone, he took a step forward and cleared his throat before speaking directly into the mic. “Um… hello. My name is Cid. Joining me is my friend Asher. Together, we are A/C Unit,” he said, to the mildest applause he had ever heard. Asher – with another Jack and Coke – raised his glass into the air in response. “Please enjoy our performance of ‘Everything’s Not Lost’, as made famous by Coldplay.”
A MIDI piano began to play as the words to the song quickly shot up on the small screen in front of Asher and Cid.
“When I counted up my demons,” Cid began singing softly. He was trying his best, which actually led to it sounding worse than it would have if he just played it straight. “Saw there was one for every day. But with the good ones on my shoulders… I drove the other ones away.”
Just a couple more sentences before Asher could take over and save him from this hell. Cid used the pause to take a shaky breath before continuing.
“So if you ever feel neglected… and if you think that all is lost… I’ll be counting up my demons, yeah… hoping everything’s not lost.”
Cid ripped himself away from the microphone, proud of himself for finishing the first part, but scared shitless about coming back on. As he paced back and forth, the rest of the instruments – also MIDI – kicked in, sounding like the cheapest backing track they could have possibly made for the karaoke. It was terrible. The instruments died down, making way for Asher to sing his part. He attempted to sit up straight as he squinted at the monitor, trying to make out the slightly blurry words.
“When you thought that it was over,” Asher slurred, squinting even harder at the monitor now. “You could feel it all around. When everybody’s out to get you… don’t you let it drag you down.”
Clyde stood up proudly in the middle of the bar, cheering on his two idols on stage. “THAT’S MY FUCKING FRIEND! THAT’S MY MASTER!!” he screamed, once again making everyone around him extremely uncomfortable.
Despite the horrid, tacky backing track, Cid found himself moved by the lyrics, actually having a chance to pay attention to them now that the spotlight wasn’t on him. Even through Asher’s drunken rendition, he couldn’t help but relate the song to both himself and his friend. Two broken men, demons galore, just trying their best to get through it all. Thinking deeper on it, he was starting to feel bad about everything he had been putting Asher through. All of these panic attacks and freakouts, relying on his friend to take care of him, without ever really asking him how he was doing through it all. Being so wracked by his own problems, Cid rarely considered anyone but himself. All the hard work he had put in to be a better person, yet he still found himself being completely selfish.
Just before the chorus, Asher stuck the microphone halfway down his throat and burped as hard as he could into it. A harsh feedback squealed throughout the bar, displeasing literally every person in the building. He fished the microphone out of his gullet and continued.
“‘Cause if you ever feel neglected… if you think that all is—” He burped once again, the only saving grace being that the microphone wasn’t halfway to his stomach this time. “Damn, this song is fuckin’ soft, like a baby’s fuckin’ dick, dude,” he said, barely being able to finish the sentence before bursting out into an uproarious laughter.
Cid looked on in shock as his partner seemingly bailed on the beautiful ballad they were in the process of creating. He walked back up to the mic stand, grabbing it and pulling it towards him harshly. “Sing the song, damn it!” Asher continued to laugh, flailing around in hysterics until he fell off of the stool, crashing down onto the ground. The crowd gasped as his head smacked the ground. A couple of people shot up to help him back up, but Cid stook his hand out and screamed into the microphone, “no! Leave him and sit the fuck back down!” With worried looks on their faces, the would-be help slowly backed up and sat back down.
Cid took a moment to let the song get back on track, watching the screen closely to be prepared to jump back in after the brief instrumental break. “If you ever feel neglected,” he continued. “If you think that all is lost… I’ll be counting up my demons, yeah… hoping everything’s not lost.”
Here it was. The falsetto outro. The moment everyone had been waiting for. Absorbing both the words and the tinny computer instruments, he pushed forward, singing with a deep passion.
“Singin’ out, oh, oh, oh, yeah! Oh, oh, yeah! Oh, oh, yeah! Everything’s not lost! So come on, yeah! Oh, oh, yeah! Uh-come on, yeah! And everything’s not lost!”
While it wasn’t a great vocal performance, the crowd sensed the intense emotion in the Coldplay portrayal, and all eyes were now on Cid, for better or for worse. He, however, didn’t know this. He was now on the verge of tears, clamping his eyes shut while gripping the microphone tightly, singing louder as the instruments kicked back in.
“Oh, oh, yeah! Oh, oh, yeah! Oh, oh, yeah! And everything’s not lost! Come on, yeah! Oh, oh, yeah! Uh-come on, yeeeaaahhhh!”
After the noble attempt at the highest of falsetto, the crowd stood up and clapped to the beat of the song. Several of them even brought out their lighters and lit them before waving them in the air softly, back and forth.
“No!” the bartender yelled out. “You guys can’t light up in here! We have fire safety rules! Everyone, stop!”
But his pleas went unheard as Cid continued to ramp up the bravado in the performance. He continued to sing as multiple members of the audience came up on the stage, singing along while clapping.
“Uh-come on, yeah! Oh, oh, yeah! Come on, yeah! And everything’s not lost! Sing out, yeah! Oh, oh, yeah! Uh-come on, yeah! And everything’s not lost!”
While the singing was supposed to come to an end, Cid dropped the mic and began wailing, sticking his head high into the air and letting the tears flow. Cid may have stopped singing, but the colorful crowd continued to sing the outro in unison as more and more people rushed the stage to comfort the obviously emotionally fragile Cid. It was a gangbang of hugs and Cid took in every moment of it.
“Stop this madness!” the bartender pleaded as he began ripping a fire extinguisher off of the wall upon seeing people still waving their lighters in the air.
Meanwhile, Clyde was now on the stage with everyone, trying desperately to get to his friend. “Cid! Cid,” he called out, chucking some ineffective elbows to try and get through the crowd. “Cid! Where— HEY! Did someone grab my ass?!”
As the crowd continued to sing and Clyde continue to cry out, Cid dropped to the floor and crawled over to Asher. The star of the show was now out of sight, but the crowd still continued to sing and celebrate on the stage, lighters still waving. Cid got to Asher and picked him up, cradling Asher’s head into his chest. Through tears, he spoke. “I’m going to take care of you, man! I promise! I’m going to make sure we both get through this!”
Asher chuckled, not really sure what was happening due to being nearly blackout drunk but also potentially suffering from a concussion after passing out on the floor. He looked up at Cid, once again letting a burp escape from him. “Hey. Hey, bud,” he slurred. “You know why people think we’re a gay couple?”
“Because we fucking love each other!” Cid blubbered before embracing his friend and beginning to sob. The pressure on his back led to Asher puking over Cid’s shoulder, most of which ended up on the feet of the crowd of people crowding the stage, but he managed to get some on Cid’s back as well. Cid released the hug and let Asher fall back onto the floor. “Ew! What the fuck?! You puked on me!”
From the other end of the stage, the bartender rushed onto the scene with a fire extinguisher. After fiddling with it briefly, he sprayed it all over the singing crowd, leading to a whole series of shrieks and gasps from everyone. He made his way to Cid and sprayed him right in his face. Cid rolled away, covering his face in an attempt to protect himself. “I said no fucking lighting up in here!” the bartender said, now standing tall over the scattered crowd. For good measure, he sprayed Asher’s prone body. Asher appeared lifeless until he once again puked all over the floor.
“Why do we always take the easy way out?
I guess it’s hypocritical for me to ask that, even hypothetically. I’ve said it myself, probably hundreds of times at this point. I always took the easy way out. I remember really not wanting to defend my title at Rise to Greatness. I wanted to hold onto that World Championship for as long as humanly possible, even if it meant I didn’t even have to fight for it. In fact, I would have preferred that. So, I decided to ruin Taking Hold of the Flame, inserting myself into the conclusion, taking away Greg Cherry’s chance at victory and taking the spotlight off of the winner – Adam Riddick – and putting it back on myself.
Where did that get me? Well, I had to face three other men at Rise to Greatness in a TLC match. Sure, I won, but I just made things harder on myself.
And before that? I guess it’d be topical to mention that not long before that Rise to Greatness in 2006, I saw an opportunity to clear a path towards the finals of a tournament for the SCW World Championship by taking out who I saw as my biggest threat… Chad Evans.”
Cid sighs and looks down, taking a moment to reflect both on his past with Evans and their current predicament. He closes his eyes and puts his head back to take a deep breath before opening them back up and continuing.
“And where did that get me? I mean, I did end up winning the title. But it wasn’t long after that Chad returned and nearly killed me, even beating me for the title at Apocalypse. Sure, it was overturned due to me finding every possible legal loophole to make it so, but I can admit that now. Chad came back and he beat me. Now, almost fifteen years later, maybe he’s come back to finish the job. Who knows? Well, only God Himself knows, I suppose.
Eventually, I lose my title. Eventually, I quit! Then a year or so later, I come back. I lose. I quit. Then four years after that, I come back. I lose. I quit. As soon as I would see an obstacle that I was too afraid to overcome naturally, I’d take the easy way out. Every time. It led me here, having wasted years and years of my athletic prime.
Really, I could go all night with these examples of me trying to play it safe by finding a shortcut – any shortcut. It all ends the same. It all ends in misery, eventually. This shit just catches up to you and I’m living proof of that.
Anyway, it goes back to the question I asked to begin. Why do we do it? Why do we do whatever it takes to circumvent any sort of adversity? I guess it’s because it makes us feel safe. When I look at Holly Adams joining Infamous, I see a woman doing something to make herself feel safe.
Like I said, I’m familiar with the feeling. I can’t blame you, Holly. Let’s just look at your situation. You’ve been tossed around in the SCW Tag League. You didn’t like Jay Gold – which is fair enough, he can be a bit too sanctimonious, but he means well – and, well, despite you guys having decent success together, neither him or you could take it any longer. It seemed like a happy ending of an unfortunate chapter for you, didn’t it? There you were, ready to move on to greener pastures in the League.
Enter Polly Playtime,” Cid said with a scoff. “What can we even say about Polly Playtime? Admittedly, not much. She’s blonde. She’s self-centered and rude. Honestly, when you put it that way, it sounds like a match made in heaven, and Polly at least seems interested in making it work. As for Holly? Well… look, I can’t exactly blame Holly for being disinterested.
Polly, just because you’re a bitchy blonde, it doesn’t mean that you two are automatically going to be best friends. If that were the case, you would be best friends with a good chunk of the roster, wouldn’t you? God, you need more than that. What even are you? Like, as a person? You like games. Not modern games, no. You have to insert a coin to participate in your idea of fun. Jesus Christ.
Great. I’m glad that you’ve shared your hobbies with us. Everyone should have a hobby, it’s healthy. Do ya got anything else? No, not really. That’s okay, though. That’s why you’re here, is it not? You wanna find yourself here in SCW. You’re here to make a mark! I admire your bravery too, because only someone who was really brave would try and ‘make it’ under the name ‘Polly Playtime’.
You’re in a lucky position, though, Polly. You and Holly have a real chance in this Tag League. Not only that, but you’re facing a team that also has a shot of taking the whole damn thing. The question is, what’ll you do with this opportunity? When Breakdown ends, will you still only be known as Polly Playtime, the girl who ‘loves to play‘? Or will you have shown me, Asher, and all of SCW that this is much more than a game to you?
Either way, it seems you’ll have to do it with a reluctant Holly at your side. She’s apparently siding with a different group of mean girls, one I’m unfortunately familiar with. I’m just wondering, Holly, if everyone finally got to you? We’ve both had so much of the same shit flung at us. If we were to believe the rest of SCW, we’d both be nothing more than relics, clinging desperately to relevancy. Nothing more than a couple of retreads.
But that’s just not true, is it? You’ve been on an absolute tear since coming back just before Rise to Greatness. You mowed down everyone set before you on your own and then when you got paired with Jay and Polly, you didn’t let the odd couple pairings deter you, and now you’re right in the thick of it in the Tag League. Every time you step into that ring, the person opposite of you thinks that they know you, but you’ve proven them all to be as naïve as they think you are. But just look at you. You haven’t even been pinned yet!
I personally think that one day, you’ll be the one accepting the Hall of Fame ring while Lenne Perez watches on proudly from the crowd. You might not have the accolades at the moment, but just looking at what you’ve done since you’ve been back, I have to believe that you’re not even close to done. For better or for worse, your name has always meant something in SCW, but by the time you hang up the boots and deactivate the Twitter, I think your accomplishments will live up to the hype of the name.
You don’t need Infamous. Quite frankly, they don’t need you, but that’s a discussion for another day. You joined them out of fear. Fear that eventually one of these people downplaying you will actually be right by the end of the match. Instead of trucking on and continuing to prove them all wrong, you saw an opportunity to make things a bit easier for you, so you took that shortcut.
But what have we learned? You play with fire long enough, you’re gonna get burned. Holly, while you’re going to go into Breakdown thinking you’ve made the right choice— the safe choice, you’ll leave it knowing that what’s safe now is only harmful to yourself in the long run. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’ve got much bigger problems than worrying about whether or not Polly Playtime fits into your clique. So while Polly looks to establish her new self, my hope is that once Asher and I put an end to your run in the Tag League, you’ll find your old self, where you’re kicking ass by yourself through talent and willpower… and a few low blows, I guess, but still!
For now, though, you’ll have to deal with the consequences of your choices, and it’s an unfortunate truth, ladies. Both of you – with the help of Jay Gold, I guess – have put together a good run. Really, you guys are on fire. Sadly for you, we’re an A/C Unit. Cooling people down is kind of what we do. So whether or not you guys get on the same page, it doesn’t really matter, because after Breakdown, your run will be reduced to nothing but ash.”
After being thrown out of the bar, Cid stumbled his way into a dark alley. The best place to gather his thoughts and quell his feelings, he decided, was in this dark alley next to a stinking dumpster. From a pile of debris, a voice came. “Rough night, huh?”
Cid jolted back, jumping at the sudden sound of a human buried underneath what looked like an assortment of ripped up cardboard boxes. Peering through the darkness, he could briefly make out a figure beneath the rubble. Just another homeless guy in LA. He was probably harmless. Cid sighed and leaned his head back against the disgusting brick behind him. “God, I have no idea why I thought this would help me with my performance anxiety. I don’t know, man. I guess it was fine. I think I might have had a minor breakthrough, but I also think I have to wait here to talk to a fire marshal though.”
“Ohh, sounds like a good night then,” the stranger replied with a lazy laugh. “Right on, my brother. Right on.”
“I probably shouldn’t get into too much trouble with the law, though. God, that’s the last thing I need. I couldn’t survive jail,” he confessed. He turned towards the man again, wondering if the lingering effects of the musical stylings of Coldplay had softened his stance as he spoke to a random drifter in the middle of a dark alley in California. It wasn’t an ideal situation as far as safety went. He seemed harmless, however. Cid shrugged before continuing, “plus, I’m in the public eye. So there’s that humiliation.”
“Oh, yeah? I thought you looked familiar. What d’ya do?” the darkened figure asked.
“I’m just a shitty wrestler. Can’t even beat the best of the best,” Cid groaned. “Why even bother? Maybe I should just retire. Become nothing more than a suit, like Dean Black.”
The man began shuffling around in the debris. “Oh, shit, Cid? That you?”
Cid looked over as the homeless man emerged from his fort of cardboard. The figure leaned forward, the moonlight just strong enough to get some light on his face. Even though he was showing some obvious telltale signs of living on the streets, the man was surprisingly handsome. After taking a closer look, Cid easily recognized him.
It was his old friend, Sid Kipling. In the flesh.
THE RISE OF THE FALLEN KING 