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Darkness has been showing his mean streak lately, and the Road to Glory was no exception. Freya's also been showing her fangs, faring very well in the match. However, DeSean and Strikmore teamed up to defeat her last time they faced. Will they be able to repeat that result, or will Freya's skill and Darkness's anger get the best of them?
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DeSean was sitting alone at a table in a dingy-looking bar in Vancouver. The sign in the window had identified it as "Bills" - the sign's maker had either not been told to put an apostrophe or such attention to grammar had never occurred to him, or Bill for that matter. Bill himself had been stood behind the bar when DeSean entered and had filled a glass full of Budweiser with only a surly grunt. It was exactly the kind of place The Technician had been looking for. He was the only one drinking the American beer, and that suited him too.

He didn't exactly feel sullen, more like he just wanted to be quiet and hidden in a place no one would look. It wasn't disappointment that brought him here, to this place, to be like this, though he wouldn't call himself pleased to have been eliminated in short order from the Road to Glory. It was just more like he had nothing to celebrate, and he wasn't used to that.

There was always something that needed to be celebrated in the Infinity locker room. Even if it was just "you gave ‘em hell tonight, bro". Win or loose, there was always team spirit to pick them up.

Now Highone had left, the energy had gone from that place. DeSean didn't want to sit there with the forlorn remnants of his stable, the brooding Hardy, the crippled Shadow, an increasingly mercenary Hammer. No one had seen Titanium Insomniac since his return at Road to Glory. No one tried calling his cell either. The energy was gone.

He wasn't depressed though. This wasn't a wake. He just wanted to be alone, hidden for a time while he gathered his thoughts. He was still one half of the Tag Champions, he was still DeSean Blackwell, and while Road to Glory might not have showcased his talents as much as he might have liked, he was still one of the most promising talents on the card.

No one was going to take that away from him.

He sipped at the now-lukewarm beer, not really enjoying the taste. Bill was watching him, like he didn't trust a muscular young American in his bar. DeSean could feel the eyes of the other patrons on him, but didn't really care. It was the least he could do to inflict his presence on them and, if they wanted to start something, they'd find he knew how to handle himself.

Suddenly, all eyes left him and fixed on a new, far less welcome sight. A new figure entered, bringing more questions than DeSean could have. It was trailed by another smaller figure that made DeSean cock an eyebrow.

Bill looked wary. "What'll it be?" he asked, his fingers twitching on the dirty cloth that was slung over one shoulder.

"Tequila. Just bring me the bottle and..." Darkness looked over his shoulder, noticed DeSean and then raised two fingers, "...two glasses."

Bill's eyes flitted to his companion. "She ain't old enough to drink," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Darkness agreed, "she'll just have a coke."

"We don't really like kids hanging around here, that's all..."

"I understand that. I assure you she'll be no trouble."

The girl who was with Darkness raised her eyebrows. "Says you," she told him with a defiant tone.

"That's right," Darkness replied in the same matter-of-fact voice that Bill had used, and she seemed to deflate slightly.

"What is she, your daughter?" Bill asked with a frown. DeSean was wondering the same thing.

"Yes. I get custody one weekend of every month. You know how it is."

Bill looked at them for a moment. It was clear that Darkness's lie had not convinced him, but the multicoloured Canadian bills Darkness began to thumb from his pocket seemed to silence any questions he thought of asking. With a grunt he placed a bottle filled with gold liquid on the counter and slid two shot glasses next to it. "Just don't do anything that'd make me want to call the cops while you're in here, alright?" He filled a glass with coke for the girl.

Darkness looked uncomfortable, but took his tequila with a nod and let his diminutive companion take her coke. She bared her teeth at Bill as her small hand closed on the glass and, for some reason DeSean couldn't be sure of, the bar's owner took a step back, a horrified look on his face.

DeSean watched Darkness approach him and then made room on the table for him. The tequila was set down in front of him and Darkness passed him a glass. He then reached for a stool and dragged it to the table so the girl could sit down between them. Now she was up close, DeSean could see she was about fifteen or sixteen, with dark hair and a too-big military jacket. Her eyes were strangely unsettling and he looked away uncomfortably.

"Who's your friend?" he asked Darkness instead.

"This is Revenant."

"And she is...?"

"A friend, as you say."

DeSean raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything else about the odd young girl. "So what do you want?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I came here for a drink. I saw you here and thought you might want to share."

"Why would I want to share a drink with you?"

Darkness shrugged. "Why would you not want to? We're employed by the same company, we work in the same ring, we fight for the same prizes. We're colleagues."

"Last time we met," DeSean reminded him, "you came out to the ring and messed with my head; showed me something that I'm still trying to figure out."

"I thought the meaning was pretty clear."

"No, I mean I can't figure out if it was a dream or a vision or what."

"Ah. A bit of both, I suppose."

"Great. Well whatever." DeSean still hadn't touched the tequila Darkness had poured for him while he was speaking.

"You're a good kid, DeSean," Darkness told him as he drained his glass in one fluid motion. Revenant sipped quietly at her coke. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

DeSean laughed. His fingers touched the glass of tequila, but he still didn't pick it up. "What is this? A warning?"

"Yes. You get one, because I'm in a benevolent mood."

"And if I go along with it? If I choose to suddenly break the habit of a lifetime and let you do whatever it is you're planning to do to me? What happens then?"

"It probably won't make much difference," Darkness admitted, "you and Strikmore are my opponents at Friction, that's all. That means you're in my way again. I wanted to give you a heads up."

"Try to persuade me to no-show?"

"If that's what you think is best."

"I think fighting is best."

"So do I. Another reason we should drink together."

DeSean laughed again and stood up. "Sure. One glass can't hurt, can it?" He picked up the tequila and tossed it back. He grimaced as he placed the glass back on the table. "That stuff is horrible."

"It grows on you," Darkness replied mildly.

"Probably. I'm not sticking around to find out though."

"Fair enough. I suppose I'll see you in the ring."

"Count on it."

Pausing only to swing his coat onto his shoulders, DeSean stalked out of the bar, leaving most of his beer behind.

* * *

Freya grumbled at the door as she tugged a shirt on and hurried across the hotel room to answer the knock. She was on her way to see Stephen in the MediTech facility he'd been taken to, but she'd overslept thanks to jetlag and was now running horribly late.

She threw open the door and blinked uncomprehendingly at the man who stood there, grinning lopsidedly at her.

"I'm sorry," Strikmore said, "am I interrupting you?"

"Kinda..." she replied.

"Oh. I can go. It's no bother."

"No, no," Freya said, suddenly embarrassed at her lack of hospitality, "come in."

He accepted her invitation, stepping into the room with a shy smile. Scratching his head, he looked around as Freya started rummaging in her bag for socks. "This is a nice room," he remarked, more for something to say than anything else.

"Yeah, knowing Jason has its advantages."

"I guess he looks after his friends."

"He tries." Finding two socks, albeit unmatched, Freya sat on the bed and started tugging them on.

Strikmore stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacked and rocked on the balls of his feet for a moment, waiting for her to finish with them.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry." Freya stood up, "I should offer you a drink..."

"Uh...okay..."

She walked over to the mini-bar and opened it. She perused its contents for a few moments before turning to Strikmore and giving him an apologetic look. "Okay, there's nothing to drink in here."

"Ah."

She reached a hand inside the small refrigerator and produced a small gold bag though. "We have peanuts if you want them...?"

"I think I'll be alright."

"Fine. Your loss." Freya ripped open the bag herself and popped one into her mouth. "Sit down," she said with her mouth full, gesturing at the couch on one side of the room. Matt did as he was told.

The freckled girl sat down on the bed, folding her legs underneath her. She munched peanuts for a few moments. "So what did you want?"

"I dunno. I guess maybe I thought we should clear the air."

"How's that?"

"Well...you eliminated me from the Road to Glory."

She paused, a peanut halfway to her mouth. "I did?"

Strikmore grinned. "I obviously left an impression."

"No, I just mean...well it was a long night."

"Yeah, you lasted a long time."

"I didn't do so well as last year," she said, wrinkling her nose slightly.

"I guess that's why I'm not as disappointed as I thought I was going to be. It was my first time."

"Ah, a virgin."

Strikmore laughed nervously. "Only...uh...only in the Road to Glory."

Freya grinned at him. "Sorry," she smiled, "I'm British. And a woman. That means making American boys feel uncomfortable is part of my job description."

"Sure."

"So was that it? Because if you're not fussed about being eliminated, and I don't even remember doing it, I guess we've cleared the air as much as we're going to."

"I guess so." Strikmore was about to stand up and leave, but something still seemed incomplete about their meeting. "Listen," he started to say, not sure of where he was going, "it seemed like you and I were getting along pretty well before our match at Havoc."

Freya looked wary. "If this is leading to a dinner invitation, I'll spare you the embarrassment of asking. I don't date people I work with."

"Oh, no," he held up his hands defensively, "no, that's not what I meant..."

"Good."

"No, I just meant...with everything that happened in the match, and the stuff with Cap..."

"Oh shit!" Freya jumped up off the bed and looked at her watch.

"What's up?" Strikmore asked, standing up as she did.

"I'm late. I was going to see Stephen. Oh bollocks." She grabbed a coat and slipped on a pair of black sneakers.

"Oh yeah. Sorry. Um...mind if I tag along?"

"Nope. Just walk fast, cos I'm not waiting for you."

He followed her out of the room and into the corridor, clearing his throat as she started walking away and then grinning lopsidedly again as she turned on her heel and slammed her door closed with a curse, quickly locking it.

They continued on their way again, and Strikmore had to jog slightly to keep pace with the girl. "So, I heard about Cap getting injured," Strikmore said between breaths.

"Yeah. It sucks."

"I guess Darkness didn't realise it was him, huh?"

"I guess not."

Freya didn't sound convinced, but Strikmore wasn't sure he wanted to ask anymore questions about it. "So, now you're without a tag partner..." It wasn't a very effective change of subject, but it was the only thing he could think to say.

"Oh, I have a whole stable to pick a new one from."

"Yeah. You're lucky."

"I suppose I am."

"You...uh...I mean, I hope you don't mind me saying, but you don't seem convinced."

Freya shrugged. "Stables are overrated."

Strikmore tried to laugh, but he felt like Freya was more serious than her flippant tone indicated. "To be honest," he hazarded, "I always thought you were kind of...the odd one out..."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you know, like in The Munsters."

"Pardon?" Freya's pace hadn't slowed, but they now reached the lift and she turned to him.

"You know. The Munsters. The crappy Addam's Family knock-off."

"I know the show you mean. I'm just not sure what you're talking about."

"You remember...uh...the niece? Was she the niece? Or a nanny or something?"

"I don't know. You mean the normal one though. The blonde girl who wasn't a monster like the others?"

"Yeah. You remind me of her."

Freya opened her mouth to say something, but the ding of the lift arriving stopped her. She raised a finger. "No more talking. We're late."

"Okay. Should we bring Cap some grapes?"

"Good idea. We'll stop at a grocery store on the way."

Sensing that he had pushed the subject of the NHFC as far as was comfortable for Freya, he stepped into the lift beside her and resolved to keep his own counsel from here on in.

* * *

Darkness walked out of Bills, wiping his mouth clean of the tequila that still clung to his lips.

"He didn't seem pleased to see you," Revenant observed.

"He wasn't. He doesn't like me."

"How come?"

"He thinks I'm arrogant and weird."

"Oh."

"Plus I really did mess with his head last time we met," Darkness admitted.

"I figured. Do you like him?"

Darkness shrugged. "I don't dislike him. He really is a good kid, like I said."

"He seemed kind of down."

"He is. He's the competitive type. But he'll bounce back."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"His faith is strong. That's important."

"Faith?"

"Yes. It's very important."

"Why?"

"Without faith, you can't be human."

Revenant made a scoffing noise. "I can't really see you in a church."

"I'm not talking about religion," Darkness explained, "faith and religion aren't the same thing."

"They're not?"

"No. Faith is about the little stories you tell to shield yourself from reality. A man who's never prayed in his life kisses his wife and kids goodbye in the morning, and he has faith that today won't be the day that one bad call pushes him over the edge and turns that little curled up ball of anxiety and depression he's carried in his head since he was a teenager into something more dangerous, and makes him pick up the gun he keeps hidden in the back of the third drawer of his desk and make everyone pay for all the perceived injustices in his life. He has faith that a truck won't swerve on a patch of black ice on the freeway on his way home from work and smash his car into the barrier. He has faith he'll see his family again. If he doesn't, how can he get through the day knowing that all those things are possible? Maybe even likely?"

"Wow."

"Yes, it's a sobering thought."

"No, I've just never heard you speak that much before. You really like to talk once you get going, huh?"

Darkness smiled ruefully. "So they tell me." He looked around, rubbing his beard with his real hand. The prosthetic hung limp at his side, ignored. "I wonder if there's anywhere I can get a cup of tea..."

"Tea?"

"I'm British," he shrugged. "I thought Canada might be better for tea than America."

Revenant just stared blankly at him.

"You don't know what ‘British' means, do you?" he guessed.

"I've heard it said. But no...it doesn't really mean anything to me..."

"Probably for the best."

It was for the best. Darkness was used to the associations Americans had with his nationality. The half-remembered story of tyranny that was half truth and half pleasant story written to make a fledgling country feel like a people, rather than a mish-mash of immigrants who were scared and running from their old lives. ‘Throwing of the yoke of oppression' was a nicer reality than admitting that, if not for what had become of the men who fought their War of Independence, said conflict would have been little more than a footnote in the long list of grievances between Britain and the hated French. A minor skirmish in a backwater colony.

Stories have a power of their own. They can turn desperate men into heroes - even myths. The legend of liberty and freedom forges a nation and lasts into an unimaginable future of smart-bombs and collateral damage.

It all comes down to faith in the end.

"Let's go this way," Darkness said, pointing.

"Sure," Rev shrugged.

DeSean stood in the corner of the ring looking at his opponent who stared back, a smirk comes across his face as the bell sounds. The two men circle each other until DeSean moves in, he jumps in the air and spin kicks his opponent who falls hard on the mat, then DeSean leaps on the top rope effortlessly then pausing allowing the fans to cheer loudly. He then leaps off and does a shooting star press as the cameras start flashing, the move is done in slow motion capturing everything until it speeds up near the end of impact. DeSean then stands back up and looks at the camera, his voice is heard.

"I am apart of the new Nike Generation"

"Cut! That's a wrap!"

The cameras stopped rolling and DeSean is handed of bottle of water from some stagehand that he barely sees. He unscrews the cap and puts the bottle to his lips but then he pauses. He wasn't hot, the building and ring were both air conditioned, he wasn't tired the scene only took 5 minutes and he wasn't thirsty. He didn't want to be one of those phony, pompous celebrities who took themselves too seriously (it's usually the B and C listers, who are the biggest criminals of this) and he wasn't going to start with by wasting a good bottle of water. He screwed the cap back on the bottle and walked towards the table to get something to eat from the meat tray.

DeSean: Bologna, I hate bologna unless it's fried then I like it. I guess I'll go with some salami, yea salami sounds good.

"They say people who talk to themselves are crazy"

DeSean stopped what he was doing and smiled he turned and face his friend Stallion.

DeSean: I say people who don't talk to themselves are nuts, like you.

Tony walked towards the table and took a bite out of a piece of ham and then sat it back on the tray. DeSean stared at him with a stern look; Tony tried to ignore it not staring at his eyes even shrugging his shoulders like he didn't care but the stare proved to powerful causing Stallion to put the ham back on his plate.

Stallion: Good job

DeSean: Thanks, I hope it turns out great

Stallion: It will, you know you're making history

DeSean: How's that?

Stallion: Dude how many professional wrestlers do you know are on commercials for Nike?

DeSean: None

Stallion: If this commercial takes off, you could be setting a trend for the rest of us.

DeSean: I never looked at it like that, I guess I am a trendsetter but most importantly I have a tag title defense, have you seen Strikmore?

Stallion: No I haven't, I heard he was hanging around Freya last night though; they went to the hospital to see Hawthorne.

DeSean: Why? What business of it is his? It was Hawthorne's own a hole stablemate who injured him.

Stallion: The same a hole you've never defeated?

DeSean: Yea...him. You know what fuck you! You haven't won a match here yet.

Stallion: I know but I've accepted it. I'm an enhancement talent I'm only used to put people over and as fodder to other characters, right now I'm just being used so people don't forget me.

DeSean: Like right now for instance?

Stallion: Yea

Both men stood there quiet, both of them had awkward looks on their faces after the last statement.

DeSean: You really need to be booked more.

Stallion: I know

DeSean: Well I'm going to go find Strikmore maybe he's in his hotel room.

Stallion: Ok I'll see you around

DeSean: Yea....

...............................................

Try and stop me
Try and save me

I want to fall...

Try and cross me
Take me, tease me

I want to fall
I want to fall
I want to fall...

I want to fall
I want to fall
I want to fall...[i]

Matt did push ups in his hotel room last night wasn't a blur unfortunately. It was a site he wishes he hadn't seen he didn't know the extent of Hawthorne's injury until he saw up close, the scar on the left knee, the damage done in the tissue muscle. Hawthorne was going to be out for a long time, he felt bad for his friend but right now he had to focus on the match at hand. He and DeSean had their first tag title defense against Darkness and Freya and if they wanted to win they were going to have to work together, a lot better than they did when they won the belts.

:Knock: :Knock:

Matt stood up and turned down the radio, coming towards the door he asked who it was and heard the other voice on the end. Annoyed he opened it, standing on the other side was DeSean with the tag title slung across his shoulder.

Matt: What do you want?

DeSean: Is that how you talk to your partner?

Matt: We're not partners

DeSean: No we're not friends but we are partners

DeSean invited himself in, he noticed a fan picture of Matt, Hawthorne and Freya standing together smiling and posing.

DeSean: So I guess you are close with our opponents?

Matt: That was a fan pic

DeSean: OK? Doesn't mean you're not close with them.

Matt: I was close to Infinity too until you guys tried to screw me

DeSean: All for the spirit of competition you were asked more than once to join

Matt: Yea but I don't do stables

DeSean: I know

Matt: Why are you here?

DeSean: To see where your head is at?

Matt: My head was fine I was training before you interrupted me

DeSean: Oh well can never be too sure

Matt: You don't have to wonder about me

DeSean: And likewise, I'll be ready, I've already shown you can trust me.

Matt: Yea but you failed to tell me two evil twins were going to get involved

DeSean: I didn't ask for those two to come down and get involved, you should just let that go. We won be grateful you have two belts, right now we're facing Darkness and Freya. We've both dealt with them, we have to talk strategy.

Matt: Fine but I really want to have a stress free feud right now, no drama.

DeSean: You're in TCW you'll never have a stress free feud especially with Darkness having some teenage year old girl with him.

Matt knew who DeSean was talking about...Revenant the 16 year old girl who strangely had him fixated, the loner teenager who for some reason he wanted to help save only for the opposite to happen. He knew her all to well but he didn't want DeSean to know that.

Matt: Some girl?

DeSean: Yea some chick, some 15 or 16 year old girl I dunno. That guy doesn't have it all, there's something going on and I will find out what.

Matt: Why? Just let it go.

DeSean: No, Darkness has been getting more and more asshole like each week as if he's above the rules and I'm tired of it. I say we use that against him and Freya, create a little bit of dissension.

Matt: It's not going to work but do what you want

DeSean: Ok Sherlock, what do you suggest then?

Matt: Let nature run its course, I doubt they'll need us to convince that they're not getting along.

DeSean: Ok fine I'll stay back but I want to know that you'll be ready?

Matt: I will be but what about you? You were eliminated early what how you get whenever you suffer a loss are you focused?

DeSean: Yea I am, I'm always focused I don't have any distractions as a matter of fact I'm about to go train.

[i]Throw some D's on that bitch"

DeSean: Wait I have a phone call...hello?

Matt watched as DeSean answered the phone, he couldn't hear the conversation but DeSean sounded excited as he hung up.

DeSean: Scratch that I have a promotional shoot for Gatorade, my day never ends.

Matt: Right, all in a days work

DeSean: Yea

The sarcasm escaped DeSean has he left the hotel room, Matt watched as DeSean turned the corner, he noticed that he didn't have his Singapore Cane with him, the symbol that always showed that DeSean was always ready for a fight wasn't there. The only thing Matt could do was shake his head.

Matt: We're going to lose.