"...I want you to like me, Stephen. I want us to be friends."

He couldn't stop thinking about Valerie Stern's conversation with him. It just seemed so...unsettling. Her tone, her demeanor, the look on her face....

"I'm hoping that if you come to realize what a fair and generous woman I am, you could sway them a little."

What exactly did she mean by that, "Sway them a little"? What exactly did she want him to do to Freya, Dante, Darkness? Try and mold them into what she considered acceptable? Hawthorne truly saw no problem with his NHFC stable mates, why exactly did Valerie Stern...

"Hey...Do you have a minute? I'd like to talk to you..."

There was Freya, standing by the door of Hawthorne's hotel room. She had a calm look on her face, but Hawthorne could tell from her body language, her hands fidgeting together, her feet tapping the floor, that something was up. Motioning her in, Hawthorne stood up and pulled out a chair for her to sit down at the table in the middle of the room.

Hawthorne: What's on your mind kid?

Freya: (A short sigh, then she speaks) I...saw the replay of you talking to Stern...

Hawthorne: Oh...

Hawthorne stood up and walked over to the nearby fridge, opening it up and peering inside. He really wasn't thirsty in the least, but anything to not have to look at Freya and discuss this little situation with her. Not that he didn't want to talk to Freya, just not about this...

Hawthorne: ...What about it huh?

Freya: (Stands up from her chair, though doesn't make a move to go forward) I already don't like the feelings I'm getting about this, and it's only been 24 hours...Stephen, I don't think Stern has the best intentions in mind here, she's not giving you this title shot because she thinks you deserve it, it's to try and get you to get us to "behave"...

Hawthorne: (Frowns a bit and rummages through the fridge's interior) Can't find a water bottle in this thing to save my life...

Freya: (Goes up to Hawthorne and spins him around slowly and gently) I'd appreciate you paying attention to me, I really want to talk about this...That and what happened at the end of Havoc...

Hawthorne: (Sighs) Look, it's been a long time since I've been with you and Darkness and Dante...I didn't know what to do! I didn't want to hold the wrong guy back, side with the wrong person...

Freya: Is this about Darkness? And what he did to you at Road to Glory? Listen, I don't think he meant to hurt you like he did...he felt remorse...at least I think he did...

Hawthorne: Hmmph, you yourself don't even know I see...

He turned away from her briefly and walked over to his couch, sitting down and sighing as she followed around the couch and stood in front of him, her eyes never once leaving him.

Freya: Look, just be careful with this match, ok? Don't let Stern, or even Strikmore put any ideas in your head...

Hawthorne: Strikmore? What would he have to do with this? I've never seen him buddying up with Stern...

Freya: Just promise me...ok?

Hawthorne: (A pause, he nods his head) I promise...

Her worried expression melted into a small smile. She nodded and patted his shoulder gently, then walked out of the room and down the hall, presumably to her room. At that, Hawthorne couldn't help but smile himself. He wouldn't ever try and do anything to hurt Freya, or Dante and Darkness, despite what seemed like some issues between them. He wouldn't have long to think this though, as his thoughts were again interrupted by a knock at his door, a bell boy standing in the open doorway.

Bellboy: Ahem, message for you Mr. Hawthorne...

Hawthorne: Message? Hrm, thanks kid...

Hawthorne took the folded piece of paper from the kid, tipped him a few dollars, then proceeded further into the room, opening up the paper and reading its contents:

"If you're not busy, why don't you meet me for a drink or two? I'd like to catch up on some things since you were out with that injury.
M. Strikmore"

Almost like she was psychic....

*Matt pulls slowly at the edge of the label on his bottle of beer, carefully sliding his finger under along the bare glass, pressing up against the adhesive. Concentration. He's been having trouble with it, trying to figure out how much he'd changed along the way. He hadn't given it much thought until his match with Izumi. For all the differences, gender not being the least, he still got the odd feeling of watching an old VHS recording of himself growing up. The attitude, the bright eyes, the sheer hope and belief. The news of Stephen being his opponent came more as a relief more than anything else. Not that Stephen wasn't a tough opponent, but that it's a familiarity. They were friends at one point, and he's hoping they still are.*

*Looking up, he sees Stephen walk into the lobby bar, a slight limp as he ascends the stairs that could only be noticed by someone who'd spent a lot of time in physical rehab themselves. His appearance lets Matt's mind wander, jerking his hand in the process, ripping the label. Matt shakes off the sticky paper that bonded to his fingers as he signals Stephen with his free arm. Stephen grabs the bartenders attention and tosses up two fingers and pointing to Matt's table. Matt gets up from his seat to greet him.*

Matt: Cap! You're looking good buddy.

Stephen: You too. Heard you had to go and get a surgery scar of your own once you found out I was gone.

Matt: You know me, ever the bandwagon chaser.

*The two grab their seats. Stephen is a little stiff sitting down, but only slightly. Matt pushes his first empty bottle to the side and opens up his hands in conversation.*

Matt: So, how's rehab going on that wheel?

Stephen: I have a list of exercises I'm supposed to do. Stretching mostly. Monthly check-ins. You?

Matt: No squat press. Limited in ring practices. Basically on borrowed time. It's as good as it's going to be.

*A waitress swings by, dropping off two fresh bottles. Stephen pulls out his keys as he grabs his bottle, prying off the top. Matt grabs his, rests the teeth of the cap against the table, and smacks down the bottle. Some of the beer foams up and out of the bottle. Stephen smiles as Matt shakes off his hand.*

Stephen: Stupid kids. I have more beer.

Matt: It's not all about efficiency, old man. Mine looked cooler.

*The two raise bottles and toast*

Stephen: To health.

Matt: To drunk women on bull-riding simulators.

Stephen: You still remember that?

Matt: Like you don't.

Stephen: Good times.

Matt: It's good to have you around again, Stephen. Not a lot of people I can actually have a conversation with here.

Stephen: Small circle of friends?

Matt: What circle? I got a dot plot. Hung with the Roxxors for a bit, then they split. My bestest buddy Drakus is nowhere to be seen. I mostly hang with the backstage crew, though DeSean and I are cool for now. But you, man. You came back to the popular kids table.

Stephen: Hellfire?

Matt: They're the only one with a group name, so yeah. I don't know if you have to know a secret handshake or something, but those guys stick to themselves. There's a whole them and us vibe backstage, intentional or not. I guess that's the reason I dropped you a note rather than chance running into you. Just in case you disappear into that locker room or something. It's good to have you back. You were missed by the guys, and more and more, it seems to be falling on me to voice that stuff.

Stephen: Is it really that bad?

Matt: I'm probably exaggerating. Talking personally though, two guys over some beers? I'm starting to get tired of the act. I mean, I respect kayfabe, I do. You never see shots of the Undertaker golfing with his Dad. I know we, especially those who are heavy characters, need that mystique. But backstage? At catering? Drop the act. I mean, I half expect that Darkness or Dante go home to an honest to God stone and mortar castle. In the back, the Undertaker is Mark. Here? Darkness is.. Darkness. It's a bit insulting to me, and probably not just me. That group treat us like a bunch of autograph seekers you have to keep appearances up for. I'm a co-worker. Have been for like two years.

Stephen: Huh.

Matt: I'm just saying. I hope you don't go all Alice Cooper on me.

Stephen: 70's Rock, right?

Matt: Yeah. You got the CD's I sent, then?

Stephen: Yes, and thanks for that. But I don't think I get the connection.

Matt: Alice went crazy, to put it simply. He'd made this huge character for him to play on stage, but it was taking him over when he wasn't on stage. He became his stage character for a while, then pretty much went crazy for a while. Best I can figure, the Hellfire group never chose to step out of that light. However it works mentally, they became their characters. Seems to happen without fail. I'm not happy you got hurt, no one is, but maybe some good came out of it. Maybe it got you out of there in time so that you can still be Stephen Hawthorne the person, not the character. Grand scheme of things, maybe what happened at Road to Glory was a break even thing for you.

Stephen: Do they know people think this way?

Matt: I'd imagine they'd have to. For as crazy as they appear to be, they're not stupid or deaf. Honestly, I just don't think they care.

Stephen: Let me switch subject for a second. Did Stern ever visit you or anything when you were laid up?

Matt: Nope. Not a visit, not a call, no flowers, no letter, no card. I'm honestly a bit surprised I didn't get a bill. You?

Stephen: Occasionally. Not often. Hardly ever really. How did she react when you came back?

*Laughing, Matt takes a sip of his beer.*

Matt: She fired me. Took all my cunning and trust me, there's not much up there, to get my job back. If she wasn't so concentrated on firing Darkness, she'd probably be trying to find a loophole in my contract to jettison me.

Stephen: Bit of a witch, then.

Matt: Putting it nicely. I think she has the best interests of TCW, as a business entity, in mind. But us employees are just products, and the fans just revenue. If she could get another person like me at half the cost, and with a better neck, I'd be out of here. I'll give her this though, she's honest and up front. She doesn't like me. She doesn't like Darkness. She doesn't like a lot of people.

Stephen: Hey, I'm not used to being on the road yet. Haven't gotten my sleep deprivation resistance back yet.

Matt: Or the ability to live through hangovers?

Stephen: Somethings never go away, son. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about before I head back up?

Matt: Like I said, I just wanted to say hi, just in case you start with that secret handshake thing. I like hanging with you. You're a good guy. Good wrestler too. As much as I'd love to smash the face of Leroy Brown, I'd rather steal the show with a friend by putting on a wrestling clinic.

Stephen: Steal the show, eh? Darkness versus Indigo is going to be hard to top.

Matt: Just look up Wrestlemania 3. Andre/Hogan may be the moment, but Savage/Steamboat was the match. The World title matches may be what's on the flyers, but the TC title matches are what send the fans home happy.

Stephen: Guess we'll see what two rehab patients can on the big stage. I'll catch up with you later.

Matt: Have a good night, Cap.

Stephen: You too, Bucky.

*Matt's eyes go a bit wide as he's taken back. Stephen walks away, talking over his shoulder as he goes.*

Stephen: Yeah, I got the comics too. Thanks.

*Matt smiles and starts pulling at the label of his new beer. He speaks to himself, trying to concentrate again.*

Matt: Hope we can do this again, Stephen. I really do.

So that was that. Hawthorne and Strikmore had a few beers, shot the shit...and that was it. Sure, he had a few choice words to say about Hawthorne's New Hellfire Club associates, but it seemed more to be him relaying what other people had to say about it. Yes, thought Hawthorne to himself as he walked down the hallway towards his hotel room, a relieved and satisfied smile on his face, Strikmore wasn't trying to start any sort of trouble, as Freya had felt he would, at all...

"Or did he just completely bullshit you before your very eyes?"

Hawthorne stopped dead in his tracks and raised a brow. Instinctively, he turned and looked behind him. No one there. If that was the case, it appeared this voice was coming from within rather then an outside source. It seemed that little voice in the back of his mind was the second person of the night with some choice words to say.

" ‘You're a good guy. Good wrestler too.' Ha! He was lying to your face and you didn't even know it!"

Hawthorne, despite himself, felt the need to answer back, even if it was to what pretty much amounted to the panging of doubt in his head. "Aw come on, you're just over-analyzing it...Strikmore is..."

"Stern's buddy! Come on chump, think about it! She just *happened* to give you a shot at *his* title to show how "nice a person she can be" and how maybe you could be the one to "change the New Hellfire Club's attitude". Then Strikmore calls you downstairs for beers and says you're a "nice guy" and you deserve better then to hang around a "cliq" like the New Hellfire Club...how can a red flag *not* be going off in your head eh?"

It actually made sense...it seemed just a *bit* to coincidental that Strikmore called Hawthorne down for a beer and a shit shooting convo, just after Stern made their title match for Endgame...maybe he *was* in cahoots with Stern, maybe this *was* a plot to get Hawthorne to do something that would bend the New Hellfire Club to Stern's whim...

"No, no, no!" Hawthorne said out loud, shaking his head of these thoughts. "Strikmore himself said Stern fired him, and it took everything and the kitchen sink to get him his job back, why would he suddenly be all palsy walsy with Stern?"

"Fired huh? Ya got any proof of that?"

After a moment of silence, Hawthorne spoke up. "Proof?"

"Yeah...you were holed up in the hospital and at home for over a year...and when you think about it, Strikmore really didn't contact you other then those shitty CD's and comics he sent you..."

Hawthorne was again in silence, then he replied dryly... "Well, those Blue Oyster Cult CD's really weren't *that* bad...And at least he thought enough of me to send me that Captain America comic to explain where..."

"Point is, did you read any news about Stern firing Strikmore? Did you see anything on TV during TCW's shows?"

In defense of Strikmore, Hawthorne really didn't get much time to browse around websites or watch TV with his schedule of rehab, so there was a chance Stern really *had* fired Strikmore, and he in turn managed through a Herculean effort to get his job back. If that was the case, his doubts had no shot at winning this debate, as Strikmore would never side with...

"Look chump, if I were you, I'd keep a close eye on Strikmore *and* on Stern...if you ask me, those two are up to something, and they've got you as a pawn right in the middle of it all!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Hawthorne knew raising his voice would sound odd, considering he was talking to himself, but at this point, he was getting annoyed at this lingering doubt. "Strikmore is not, nor do I think he will be, siding with Stern, he is just another wrestler who..."

"What's wrong with you?!? Are you losing your mind?!?"

Another voice, this one wasn't his doubt. Hawthorne, for the second time that night, turned around to look at the source. This time it was certainly someone, and this someone was Freya. She had a concerned look on her face as she walked over to Hawthorne, who turned away slowly.

Hawthorne: How long have you been standing there?

Freya: Long enough to hear you ranting *to yourself* about Stern and Strikmore...you spoke to one of them I assume?

Hawthorne: (Still turned around) Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I just had a few drinks and caught up with Strikmore a little while ago...

That first part, "Not that it's any of your business", Hawthorne never thought he'd hear himself say that to his partner and friend Freya, but heck, there's always a first for everything eh? Freya, raising a curious brow, broke the silence.

Freya: What did you guys talk about?

Hawthorne: Hmmph, what, are you reporting it to The Daily News or something?

Freya: I was just wondering is all...was it about us? You, me, Darkness, Dante?

Hawthorne: (Turns to look at Freya, frowning) It's not always about you guys! The world doesn't revolve around you! (Turns back and walks a few steps down the hall) We just talked about things in general, nothing about you guys...

Freya: (Frowns, following Hawthorne) You're getting mighty defensive...almost as if you *were* talking about us...

Hawthorne: (Spins back around, angrily) Look, I've had enough of you and your... (Freya takes a step back, shocked at Hawthorne's tone. Hawthorne slowly sighs and calms down) Look...I just have a lot on my mind now...can we talk about this later? Tomorrow? Anytime but now?

Freya: I'd rather talk about it now...

Hawthorne: If you really wanna go with now, you'll get a whole lot of nothing from me, as I'm not in the mood to discuss anything...

Freya: (A pause, she sighs, more an annoyed one then a sad or defeated one) Fine, tomorrow afternoon we'll have lunch, but I want every single detail, no leaving anything out, no lying, ok?

Hawthorne: (Dismissively, as he reaches his hotel room door, opens it up, and steps in) Yeah, yeah, whatever, goodnight...

He had never attempted to be nasty to Freya before, yet in one night he had done it twice. This whole situation, he concluded, was giving him a bad headache, and putting him in a lousy mood. Perhaps, just perhaps, after a good night's sleep, he would not only be calmer, but he'd be able to figure out just what the holy hell he had coming his way on the path to Endgame.

*Sleep came and went like the Van Halen reunion, way too fast. At least the sun was up. It's a horrible thing to see the sun rise when you're not in the mood to appreciate it. At least this hotel had a round the clock gym, and Matt was able to "work out" some of the questions rattling around his mind. This whole concept of us versus them had taken its toll on his attitude and sleep schedule. How do you leave your work issues at the office when you live there?*

*The sun was still low in the sky when he stepped out of the lobby, choosing a particularly breezy step to sit on. Pulling back at the tab of his can of pineapple juice, his face contorts as the tart juice wrestles with the still alcohol soaked taste buds of his mouth. He welcomes the pickup in the wind, the chill causing his skin to tighten, making him aware at where his body ends and the craziness of the world begins. He closes his eyes, and can slowly start to smell the sea salt in the air that doesn't exist. The waves, his waves, crashing on the beach in New Jersey. Just for a second, he's home. Home, where things are normal. Where people are normal.*

*Matt's mental vacation is disturbed by a sudden stop of the sunlight beaming onto his face. He opens his eyes to see a woman standing one step in front of him, hand placed above her eyes to block the sun. The breeze stopped. His skin laxed. Home faded away.*

Matt: Hi Freya.

*Slightly startled, Freya turns and looks down at Matt. Her hand falls away from her face slightly, her face barely giving away her surprise of finding Matt.*

Freya: Matthew. I didn't see you.

Matt: I figured.

Freya: So...

*Matt looks away from Freya, but doesn't even see the horizon he turned to face. He takes another sip of his juice, his face contorting much less this time.*

Matt: So?

Freya: Stephen told me you two had a few drinks last night.

Matt: Yeah, catching up. Before our injuries, Stephen and I would hang out a good bit. We weren't joined at the hip or anything, but we were friendly. A good guy to do nothing with.

Freya: He-

Matt: But I don't have to tell you that. You two are close, right? I'm sure you knew the things we'd talk about. Probably guessed conservative on the number of drinks though. Cap can knock them back with the best of them.

Freya: Did you talk about work?

Matt: You want to just skip the probing and ask what's on your mind? Cause honestly, this isn't the conversation I'm looking to have on the sleep I've gotten.

*Freya turns flush toward Matt, tossing her hair over her shoulder in the process. Her eyes steel over. Matt sets his can of juice onto the stone step, and cocks his head to the side, looking up and meeting her glare.*

Freya: What did you say about us?

Matt: I didn't realize there was an us.

Freya: The Hellfire Club.

Matt: I know. I didn't realize there was a Hellfire Club. See, those of you in that Club can't seem to see anyone else backstage, so I'm doing the best I can to make sure you're completely invisible. I figured that's what you wanted.

Freya: This attitude! This is what Stern has done this place.

Matt: Don't go pulling the Stern card on me. Poor little Hellfire, Stern wants them gone. You want me to cry about that? Stern did make me gone. I came back by myself, with no help from your little club, so excuse me if my heart doesn't bleed. You want to fight Stern? You certainly didn't want to when I was dodging security, trying to plead my case. And don't even start with suspecting me of siding with Stern to take out your gang. The last time I've seen an main event was when I won the Majestic Tourney, and the main event is where the Hellfire Club seem to live. If I was on her side, don't you think I would have had a match or two against one of you guys? As it stands, I haven't so much as set foot in the same ring as someone from your group since DeSean and I defending our Tag Titles against, oh yeah, you and Hawthorne.

Freya: You don't understand what Stephen is stepping back into! You don't understand the circumstances!

Matt: Ok, explain them to me. Right now. Do it. What does the Hellfire Daily Gazette have across the front page?

Freya: It's none of your concern!

Matt: And neither are my discussions with Stephen! If I choose to badmouth your backstage behavior to Stephen, it's my choice to make, and Stephen's choice to listen. He's a grown man and doesn't need you spreading your wing over him.

Freya: Ok, you answer me a question. Why is Stephen getting a title shot with you?

Matt: Because that's whose name the office put across from mine. Are you under some assumption that I get any say in who I fight? I don't know how it works in Hellfire land, but in the real world of TCW, we just do our jobs.

Freya: If I find out you're setting Stephen up...

Matt: Then you have my permission to try and take me out. But I promise, you won't get any further than trying.

Freya: Where is all this hostility coming from?

*Matt grabs his drink and stands up, looking Freya face to face.*

Matt: If you don't know, then you guys are more detached than I thought. And suddenly, I don't feel so bad for what I said. Today, or yesterday. Tell the boys I said hi.

*Matt walks back towards the lobby doors, the wind teasing Freya's hair in the background. Matt stop and turns around, his hand in the air as if he just remembered something.*

Matt: Oh, and if they don't recognize my name, just show them a picture of me. I'm sure they'll remember eventually.

*Matt walks through the lobby doors, but we stay with Freya. We pull up, her body getting smaller and smaller until we stop at the patio of Stephen. He couldn't hear word they said, but he could make out the tone. He crosses his arms and leans on the railing, a long sigh escaping his throat.*

Stephen: Well, lunch is going to be interesting.

"You have no idea how much I want to punch that Strikmore in the face with that obnoxious personality of his...I probably would have done it had I not seen you over here..."

Hawthorne had the feeling deep down in the pit of his stomach that something along these lines was going to occur, Freya confronting Strikmore before she got to him for lunch. Thus, here she was, hands to her hips, an angry look on her face, her eyes locked to Hawthorne, who was leading the two to a nearby table so they could sit"

Freya: And what really set me off the most? Towards the end of our conversation, he says to me "If I choose to badmouth your backstage behavior to Stephen, it's my choice to make, and Stephen's choice to listen. He's a grown man and doesn't need you spreading your wing over him."

Hawthorne: ....And?

A pause. Freya had expected Hawthorne to be at least a bit annoyed that Strikmore said something like this to his partner, but Hawthorne seemed rather nonchalant about it, almost as if he was annoyed at *her* for bringing it up.

Freya: And?

Hawthorne: Yes, and. It may come as a surprise to you, but we may be partners in a stable, or just partners in general, since I have no clue as to *what* the state of the Hellfire Club is anymore, but that's besides the point...it may come as a surprise to you, but I am indeed a grown man, and I don't have to run by you who I talk to or what I listen to a person talking about...

Freya: I don't mean I'm trying to keep you from talking to people, I mean...

Hawthorne: You don't mean, yet you keep going on and on about "Mean old Matt Strikmore", and how he's a bad influence on me...I got news for you Mrs. Cleaver, he's not Eddie Haskell, and I sure as heck ain't the Beaver...

Freya: (She looks down momentarily, then brushes some hair away from her eyes and looks back up at Hawthorne) Your not the Beaver, but your acting like a jackass...

Hawthorne: Excuse me?

Freya: Ever since we spoke in the hallway last night, you've been acting very rude and obnoxious to me...

Hawthorne: (Rolls his eyes) And I suppose "Mean old Matt Strikmore" is the cause of it?

Freya: Well, ever since this match between you two was announced...

Hawthorne: (Cutting Freya off, raising his voice a bit) You've been a paranoid, delusional psychopath....

Freya: (Frowns) You'd better lower your voice....

Hawthorne: (Raises his voice) Why? So people won't see that my partner is looking to blame everyone except herself for all of her problems in this fed?

Freya: And what is *that* supposed to mean?

Hawthorne: What I mean is maybe The Hellfire Club needs to stop moaning about how "Oh no! Ms. Stern is out to get us!" Stop being so damn cliquey, and just wrestle like normal people!

Freya: Cliquey huh? Nice talk coming from someone who *is* a member of the Hellfire Club, on hiatus or not...

Hawthorne: You think I wanted to be in this mess huh? Think I wanted to be in all of this drama and petty bullcrap? My mind decided to choose for me to get warped, and then roped into this...if I had the power too, I'd still be thinking I was in the 40's and not aware of anything at all!

Stunned and angry, Freya can only watch in silence as Hawthorne gets up and begins to walk away from the patio. Finally, Freya stands up and shakes her head.

Freya: Why do you have to be such a bastard right now?

Hawthorne: (Low voice) Because maybe certain things, or people, are making me act that way...

Freya: Well if that's the way you feel, then just like I'm not gonna stop you from talking to people, I sure as hell am not gonna stop you from breaking up our team...the two of us don't ever have to associate with each other in this fed anymore! We'll be co-workers yes, but partners? Not if I'm too paranoid for you...

Hawthorne: (A pause, he sighs and turns around) Look...I don't want that to happen...

Freya: Then tell me...what *do* you want?

Hawthorne: ...Look, just let me be so I can concentrate on my match...ok? It *is* for the Transcontinental Title after all, something that, in this whole mess, I've neglected to think about, a big mistake....just let me concentrate on this match for Endgame ok? After that...After that it'll all be fine...

Freya: Will it?

Hawthorne: If you just let this go and let me prepare for this match yes...

Freya: (A pause, she nods) Fine then...

With that, Hawthorne walked back inside from the patio, not looking back, not slowing his pace, until he was out of the eating area and towards the elevators up to the rooms. There, leaning against the wall next to one of the elevators was Strikmore.

Matt: Hey Cap...

Hawthorne: (Flatly, more out of anger at Freya then anything at Strikmore) Hey Bucky....

Matt: Little trouble with the girlfriend Cap?

Hawthorne: She's not my girlfriend....just a partner and friend....but yeah, I am, how'd you know?

Matt: Lucky guess I suppose...You gonna be allright Cap?

Hawthorne: (Presses the button for his floor) I'll live...

Matt: All right, but hey, if you wanna talk, have a beer, shoot the shit, whatever, I'll be around ok?

Hawthorne: (Nods) I'll be sure to take you up on that offer....hey Strikmore?

Matt: Mmm?

Hawthorne: (The elevator doors open and he steps in) At Endgame....*I* wanna steal the entire show too...Not to mention get that title of yours...I've been wondering what it's like to hold some gold...

Matt: (Smirks and nods) Well Cap, all I can say is, hell yeah let's tear the roof down, and heck, and *if* you wanna see what holding gold is like, you'll sure as hell have to earn it when it comes to fighting me...

Hawthorne: (Smirks himself as the elevator doors close) I don't doubt that...

Argh! Damn double post! The site was saying it could not repeat your request, but I guess it could after all when I tried to post it twice!

*Going for a walk seemed to be a good idea. After passing Stephen at the elevators, he had a feeling it'd only be a matter of time before running into Freya if he lazed about in the lobby. He didn't really want to have the first conversation, and the second would likely be much worse. About fifteen minutes down the road, he spots a bookstore. One of the major downsides of international travel for Matt is falling out of touch with literature. Namely, comic books. Browsing the racks, he drops a handful of titles onto the counter and reaches for his wallet.*

Cashier: So are you?

Matt: Come again?

Cashier: Are you?

*The cashier points to Matt's shirt, which has the words "Possible Skrull" written across his chest. Matt smirks, having finally found someone that understands the shirt.*

Matt: It's always possible, right?

Cashier: You never know. Enjoy your books, true believer.

Matt: You too.

*It's amazing what a little bit of familiar, casual conversation can do to lift ones spirit. Even if it just pushes the big stuff to the side for a few minutes, it lets you be alive rather than just living. He knew things were going to get serious, and fast. All he wanted to do was make sure he was pointed in the right direction when it sped up. He sits down at a sidewalk cafe, grabbing a waiter on his way to his table and asking for a coffee. He's not two pages into his latest issue of Green Lantern Corps when his phone rings. He grabs it off the table, and sees DeSean's name. A month ago, this would never be a call he'd take. Life moves fast.*

Matt: What's going on?

DeSean: Managed to get away from Izumi for a minute. Girl is driving me crazy.

Matt: Finally met someone that talks more than you?

DeSean: Don't start man. Really, I can't take it right now.

Matt: You sound stressed as hell. Have a Snickers or something.

DeSean: I'll get my satisfaction come Endgame. What's happening on your end?

Matt: It's cool right now. Probably going to be some problems later, but cool right now.

DeSean: Problems? You can't chill in a jail cell again, Matt. Stern will quash you. She's on an all points alarm this week. I heard she threatened someone with castration if things don't go well.

Matt: No legal issues this time. I had a bit of a heated talk with someone.

DeSean: I thought you and Hawthorne were cool? You know, once he cooled off after our tag match way back.

Matt: Oh, Cap and I are on good terms. Had a few beers with him the other night. Kind of offloaded some pent up opinions.

DeSean: Like every day opinions, or "had four beers in you" opinions?

Matt: Maybe I had two or three.

DeSean: So what did you say?

Matt: That there's a lot of resentment floating around backstage toward the Hellfire Club.

DeSean: And you said this to a member of the Club?

Matt: He's only kind of a member. More of an associate, or a part-timer.

DeSean: Still, he hangs with them.

Matt: Anyway, that was fine. He took the conversation well, even reciprocated a bit. Freya, not so much.

DeSean: Freya? How did she get involved in all this?

Matt: Best I can figure, she's kind of protective of Hawthorne. She also seems to think I'm in league with Stern.

DeSean: You and Stern? The same Stern that fired you on television? That Stern?

Matt: The very same.

DeSean: Did Hawthorne tell you all this?

Matt: No, Freya did that herself.

DeSean: That couldn't have gone well.

Matt: You know those arguments you have before you start throwing fists? Yeah, we're about halfway through one of those. So like I said, probably going to be some problems later.

DeSean: Don't you take a single word back, Matt. Not a word. I know what you said, because hell, it's probably just a nicer way of saying what I would have.

Matt: I know. I don't like starting things, but at the same time, I can't stand being disrespected. You can't just turn your cheek to that all the time. Oh, hold on.

*A young boy slowly approaches Matt's table. He looks up at the child's mother, who smiles and nods from the sidewalk. Matt rests his phone on the table and leans toward him.*

Matt: Hey buddy. What's up?

Boy: Are you the guy from the wrestling show?

Matt: I'm one of the guys, yeah.

Boy: Can I have an autograph?

Matt: Sure!

*Matt grabs a pen out of his pocket.*

Matt: Have something for me to sign?

*The boy's eyes widen, and looks back at his mother, who puts her hands up and shakes her head.*

Matt: It's cool, it's fine. Here.

*Matt closes the comic he's reading and scribbles "Matt Strikmore did not write this book." He hands it over to the boy, who smiles and runs to his mom.*

Matt: Enjoy! Watch Endgame! Buy a t-shirt!

*Matt waves at the mother as they walk away, and picks his phone back up.*

Matt: Back.

DeSean: What was that?

Matt: Fan wanted an autograph, so I signed a comic book I was reading.

DeSean: You been keeping up with that Final Crisis thing?

Matt: Not really. I'll catch it when it's done. All about Secret Invasion right now.

DeSean: What's that?

Matt: Skrulls taking over the world. Think Invasion of the Body Snatches, but with superheroes. It's good stuff. I'll toss my copies in your bag when I see you.

DeSean: Cool. I think I hear Izumi. I gotta go.

Matt: Have fun.

DeSean: Absolutely.

*The waiter drops off his coffee on the way to attending another table. Matt nods and takes a large sip. Feet propped up on another chair, he enjoys the day, and enjoys being rather unknown.*

Matt: Maybe I am a Skrull. Would make a lot of sense. Just really good at pretending to be me. Would also make it easier to pass on blame of this whole undercurrent of stuff. We were just being Skrully.

*He takes another sip, and laughs to himself, at the very idea.*

Matt: Cap, wherever you're at, I hope you're getting your head screwed on right and your wrestling boots laced. We're going to steal the whole thing. The whole thing. The Main Event's going to have nothing on us.

"Mr. Hawthorne? ...Ahem, Mr. Hawthorne?"

He had been waiting for about a half hour, 45 minutes if you counted his drive from the hotel to her headquarters for the time being. To pass the time, he had taken to read one of the few magazines scattered about in this reception area. Unfortunately for Hawthorne, it was entirely in Spanish, not his strongest language, but it *was* a National Geographic magazine, so the pictures were able to tell the story quite nicely. He was in the middle of an article about the continued destruction of the rainforest when Stern's receptionist called out his name.

"Oh Mr. Hawthorne...Miss. Stern will see you now..."

Hawthorne finally looked up from his article, nodded, and proceeded to toss the magazine back onto the nearby table. He stood up and walked past the receptionist, down the hall towards where Stern was located. Hawthorne really had no idea what made him pick up the phone and call her to ask to see her...could those pangs of doubt be creeping in again? Did he just want to stare at a pretty face? If it was the latter, Hawthorne mused, at least he wouldn't be thinking about this whole mess with Freya and Strikmore and the title match.

"Well Hello Stephen, please, come in, come in!"

With all of these thoughts in mind, Hawthorne hadn't remembered getting to her open door and knocking on it. After Stern's warm welcome, he came over to her desk and sat down across from her.

Miss. Stern: Do you need anything before we start Stephen? Some water, coffee, perhaps a sandwich?

Hawthorne: No thank you, I'm fine...I'm just here to talk is all...

Miss. Stern: Well that's just fine Stephen, I'm all ears, please, feel free to begin when you're ready...

Hawthorne: (After a hesitant pause) Well Miss. Stern, I just wanted to talk to you about my...title shot against Strikmore at Endgame...

Miss. Stern: (Nodding, a smile on her face) Pretty big opportunity hmm? And from what I hear through the grapevine, you and Mr. Strikmore are all set to put on one hell of a contest, I look forward to seeing this when Endgame happens...

Hawthorne: (Going on) I....just wanted to get one thing straight Miss. Stern...This title shot....what exactly did you give it to me for?

Miss. Stern: ...I don't think I follow you Stephen...

Hawthorne: Well, from the last show, if I'm recalling right, you said to me, and I quote: "I'm hoping that if you come to realize what a fair and generous woman I am, you could sway them a little."

Miss. Stern: (Nods) Yes, I do recall saying that...

Hawthorne: ...Miss. Stern, is this title shot because you think I'm ready for it, or is it because you want to use me to keep Freya and company in check? Make them into "model employees"?

Hawthorne expected Stern's smile to fade and be replaced by an angry death stare. Ah, but sometimes one must expect the unexpected, for instead, Stern simply laughed and stood up, going over to her window and gazing out of it, hands behind her back as she spoke.

Miss. Stern: Now Stephen, where did you get a silly idea like that?

Hawthorne: Well...partly from your words...partly from talking to Freya...

Miss. Stern: (Shakes her head, eyes closed, a smile on her face) And what did that Freya say to you hmm?

Hawthorne: Well, we both kinda agreed at first that this match you gave me, plus what you said to me about swaying and what not, was just a front in order for you to use me as some sort of...puppet I guess, to get the New Hellfire Club acting the way you want them too...

Miss. Stern: At first you say?

Hawthorne: Well, yes, after a while though, I started to realize that maybe Freya was being a bit too paranoid...

Miss. Stern: And you would be right...Stephen... (She goes back to her desk and sits down, adjusting her glasses for the moment, then speaking) Am I not the biggest fan of the New Hellfire Club? Indeed I'm not. In fact, I'm probably not on the top one million list of people who like them...but using you as a pawn to get the New Hellfire Club to behave as I wish them too? That's just a bunch of nonsense. What I said to you about you swaying them over, It wasn't meant as an order to do it, nor was it any kind of bribe. You see Stephen, it was merely meant as a suggestion to you, one that would, I would hope, better you as well as your stable mates. You by all means don't have to follow this suggestion, but if you really think about it, really weigh the positives and negatives, I would think, a man of your intelligence, would see the positives outweigh the negatives...

Hawthorne slowly raised a brow at this. It was very subtle, but the way Stern worded it really *did* seem like an order or a bribe. Had she just choosen her words poorly? He tried to interject, but Stern kept on going.

Miss. Stern: Stephen, I like you. I think you're a very talented wrestler...when you and Freya lost that tag team title match...I myself was probably the most dissapointed...I really wanted to see you grab onto some gold...and Mr. Strikmore, as much as I'm not his number one fan either, is a very capable wrestler when he's not acting so foolish, not to mention the next opportunity for you to grab some gold. Think about this...Mr. Strikmore has been Transcontinental Champion for almost two years now...two years, can you believe that? We're talking a mini Bruno Samartino reign here. Now think about it like this...if a wrestler, someone who is popular with the fans yes, but just ever so slightly below the radar that he just needs that *one* moment, that *one* win to catapault to the next level, defeated a long reigning champ for his belt, what do you suppose would happen?

Hawthorne: ...Well, that wrestler would be in a position to...catapault...

Miss. Stern: (Smiles) Exactly...Stephen, with the exception of maybe our World Champion, defeating our long ruling Transcontinental Champ would do wonders for you! You saw what Indigo got when she won the FWRfed world title, her fans not only multiplied even more, but the fans she already had went absolutely insane! They love her more now then ever! Don't you want your fanbase to grow into more fans then you already have?

Hawthorne: Well of course...

Miss. Stern: Then Stephen, you've got to go out there and win! You've got to beat Mr. Strikmore and get that catapault ready to launch! Why, dare I say it, a Transcontinental Champion Stephen Hawthorne may just get himself a World Title shot by riding on the wave of victory if he gets it done at Endgame...

Hawthorne: A World Title shot? Against Darkness?

Miss. Stern: (Her smile momentarily fades) Or Indigo...it's not always about your New Hellfire Club friends Stephen... (She stops herself and puts on a smile again) Either way, we'll never really know unless you go out there, give it your all, and defeat Mr. Strikmore, now will we?

Hawthorne: Well...no, I guess not...

Miss. Stern: So do that Stephen, go out and not only give those fans a hell of a show, but go out there and show me you want to step into the World Title picture...by becoming our Transcontinental Champion....

A World Title shot...Hawthorne had never even given thought to this until Stern dropped this vision in his head. World Champion Stephen Hawthorne...Transcontinental Champion Stephen Hawthorne...both sounded quite nice rolling off the tongue didn't they?

"Now, was there anything else you needed from me Stephen?"

Again jolted from his thoughts, this time by Stern herself. Slowly, Hawthorne shook his head no and stood up from his chair, Stern stood up as well and extended her hand out.

Miss. Stern: Well all right then, it was great to talk to you again, be careful on your drive back to the hotel ok?

Hawthorne: (A pause, he slowly shakes Stern's hand and nods) Of course...wouldn't want your possible future Transcontinental Champ getting sidelined by another injury...

Miss. Stern: That's the spirit I like to see! Have a good day Stephen!

Hawthorne: You too ma'am...

Hawthorne exited from the office, went down the hall, and past the receptionist without a word. It wouldn't be until he got into the parking lot and down to his car that he would have any sort of reaction at all. Slowly, a smile spread across his face...a determined smile. Opening up his car door, he found himself speaking a loud, to no one in particular.

Hawthorne: Transcontinental Champion...yeah...I like the sound of that...

Secretary: Ms. Stern? Mister Hawthorne is still waiting.

Stern: I need a minute, I have a phone call to finish up. Just offer him something to drink and leave me be. I'll page you when I'm ready.

Secretary: Yes, Ms. Stern.

*Valerie turned off the intercom and shuffled the papers on her desk, her eyes never leaving the clock on her desk. The hands reach 7:30pm exactly when she picked up the receiver. Dialing a number quickly with nothing but a glance at her day planner, she counted off the rings with an aggravated look.*

Matt: Red Leader, standing by.

Stern: Do you always answer your phone like that, or is it just when I call?

Matt: Just you. I thought it could be our thing. You can be Vicks. Or Wedge. Fine choices, both.

Stern: It's like talking to an eight grader. Just confirm you're at the radio station.

Matt: Of course I'm here. Regardless of what you think of me, you know full well I don't miss a promotional appearance. Except that once, and I told you, a monkey stole my car keys.

Stern: Just do your job and plug the show.

Matt: Plug it where? Do I need a power adapter?

Stern: Goodbye.

*Stern slams down the phone. Walking over to her make-shift wet bar, she pours herself a drink and doesn't waste time with it. She presses down on her sinuses and rests the now empty glass back down on the bar. Once back to her desk, she pages for Stephen to be brought in. A few deep breaths, a check of her hair, and a smile on her face.*

*Back at the radio station, Matt is looking down at his phone with a smirk affixed to his face. That's twenty seven calls she's ended, zero for him. It really has become a source of entertainment for this seemingly never ending international tour. Once again, Matt is shouldered with the lion's share of the press for this event. Stern refuses to put the Hellfire Club in these positions, or they refuse, no one is really sure. That leaves Matt as the next highest ranking champion, and a heck of a nice guy if his mother is any authority. He does most of these unconsciously anymore, and he's hoping to put this one on cruise control. He's got enough on his mind as it is, let alone trying to actively bring up talking points. He's on his second cup of office coffee, which given the location of this show, is actually pretty good. He sees the red light go off, so he already knows he's going to be ushered in. After all, he's done this twenty six times.*

Station Manager: Matt, we're ready for you. Just grab the headset on the table in there.

Matt: Thanks buddy. Hey, can I get a cup of this to go? Good stuff.

*The station manager nods and gestures Matt to hurry. They're only doing the station ID, no commercial. Matt is barely in the seat when it all goes live.*

DJ: Welcome back. I have with me here Matt Strikmore of TCW, who are putting on their big show End Game in a few days. That right, Matt?

Matt: Yeah, End Game, but you have to say it in a deep voice, and in all capital letters. ENDGAME! Seriously though, it's going to be great.

DJ: Lets start getting to know you a little bit.

Matt: Sure. Name again is Matt Strikmore, and I'm the current Transcontinental Champion of TCW. I've held that belt for the better part of two years, but was sidelined in the middle with a neck injury.

DJ: And you're going to be performing at Endgame-

Matt: ENDGAME

DJ: Sorry, you're going to be performing at ENDGAME, defending your title against Stephen Hawthorne. Also on the card, Darkness versus Indigo. What can you tell us about that match?

Matt: Well, if I can rewind a second, I'd like to talk about my match a little bit. I really think we have something special this time around. Let me explain what the Transcontinental Championship means in TCW. As that champion, I'm essentially the gatekeeper for the main event. You get past me, you move up. Thing is, I haven't let a single person pass since I've held this title. When I have this belt, I have not been pinned. I have not been submitted. No one has had their hand raised over mine. So put that all together, and now you have a dam in the middle of the TCW roster. You have athletes like DeSean Blackwell and Stephen Hawthorne who are, quite honestly, able to step up right now to be in the main event. DeSean proved that just a few weeks ago. However, since I've been the gatekeeper, they haven't been able to ascend and challenge for that World Title. So while we're having great matches in the middle of the show, the main event has gotten a bit, to be honest, stale. That's why I think this show is going to peak in the middle. Hawthorne is just right at the cusp. Let me tell you, that guy is hungry. He wants to be a champion like you only read about. Now, I know you're thinking, who doesn't want to be a champion, but that's where I'm different. I don't want to be a champion. I want to be the champion. I want my name to be synonymous with the titles I hold. Down the line, when someone else is the TC champion, I want them to see my shadow cast over them. And it's not a pride thing.

DJ: Really?

Matt: Ok, it's a little bit pride. The larger part is that I feel strongly in the second tier title. I mean, growing up, I wasn't all about Hulk Hogan. I was all about Mr. Perfect. As big as Hogan was, people like HHH and John Cena are what come to mind when you think dominating champion right now. But the Intercontinental Title? I don't think they've taken Hennig's nameplate off yet. He's the champ, now and forever. That's the kind of shadow I want. And when someone steps up to the point where they can exceed my image, then more power to them. You've got yourself a new measuring stick, and I'd like to think I had a part in making that person excel, because they were as hungry as I was. That's what makes this match so exciting. Hawthorne really wants this, and I've tangled with him before. He's a legit threat. Now, I can beat him. I can put anyone's shoulders down for three, but I think he and DeSean could say the same.

DJ: So no words on the main event?

Matt: I've come to the feeling that in TCW, the main event is for the spectacle. The middle of the show is for wrestling. I'm a wrestler, and I think that's what people want to see. Mark my words, as good a show Darkness and Indigo will put on, come the following morning, the fans are going to want replays of the Strikmore and Hawthorne. I really think this is going to be a turning point for the fanbase of TCW. It's going to open a lot of eyes, and I can't think of a more fitting person to be in the ring with when that happens. Just trust me that after Endgame, things in TCW aren't going to be the same. I'm not saying the serfs are rebelling. I just think we're at the biggest stage of the year, and people are going to see a great display of actual wrestling and real sportsmanship. I think it's going to contrast very well against the... well... theatrics of some of the other members of the roster. In the end, the fans are going to decide which they like best, and I think we have the best case for that argument.

DJ: We're running out of time, Matt. Anything else you want to add?

Matt: Kids, tell your parents to order ENDGAME! Those of you attending, buy a T-Shirt! Make sure you have your snacks and beer in hand when the bell rings for the TC match. I promise you, you're not running to the bathroom during that one.

DJ: Thank you for coming in, Matt.

Matt: My pleasure.

*Matt takes off the headphones and exits the booth, grabbing the cup of coffee the station manager left on the table. He waves to the crew while heading out the door, feeling a little lighter having aired his feelings on live radio. He knows that there will be repercussions for this. If not from Stern, than from someone who took his words personally. But Matt followed this path because he loved wrestling, and was finally in a position to highlight what wrestling can be. Everything was lining up, and it would eat at him if he didn't pull the trigger. The wind picks up, and Matt looks at the sky. The clouds looked angry and menacing. Matt smiled and pulled the collar of his shirt up around his neck. Burying his free hand into his pocket, he walked back toward the hotel with his head slightly down, bucking the wind and the spittle of rain that had started.*

Matt: Bring it on.

He had been told to listen to this radio replay by several of the backstage crew workers at TCW. Not only because Hawthorne himself apparently featured prominently in said segment's discussion, but also because it was pretty damn hilarious too. So, the radio in his hotel room tuned in to the correct station, he sat back and listened to the broadcast, already in progress unfortunately...

"So no words on the main event?"

"I've come to the feeling that in TCW, the main event is for the spectacle. The middle of the show is for wrestling..."

It didn't take a rocket scientist, wether you were a TCW wrestler or a fan, to realize who that voice belonged too.

Hawthorne: Hmm, didn't know Bucky got himself a radio interview this week...

Sipping some coffee, Hawthorne continued to listen, and Strikmore didn't fail to make things interesting for him, or for the listeners of the replay.

"Mark my words, as good a show Darkness and Indigo will put on, come the following morning, the fans are going to want replays of the Strikmore and Hawthorne. I really think this is going to be a turning point for the fanbase of TCW. It's going to open a lot of eyes, and I can't think of a more fitting person to be in the ring with when that happens."

Hawthorne: (Snickers a bit as he finishes his latest sip of coffee) How modest Bucky, how modest...And I don't quite think Miss. Stern was looking for you to say those exact words...

Suddenly, a shrill cell phone ring broke Hawthorne's concentration. Raising his eyebrow a bit, he walks over to his bag and opens it up. Pushing aside a few articles of clothing and miscellanious objects, he finally spots his phone and takes a look at the screen:

"Incoming Call From: Unknown Number"

Hawthorne: Hmm, Never had *that* happen before...

Part of Hawthorne told him to just ignore the call...probably a prank caller or someone offering him better phone service or something. Yet, another part told him to answer...it seemed like it was going to be someone important, someone who wouldn't quite appreciate not getting an answer when they called. Shrugging and figuring "Might as well..." Hawthorne answered.

Hawthorne: Hello?

Miss. Stern: (Over phone) Stephen, this is Valerie Stern...

Yep, someone who wouldn't like not getting an answer alright.

Hawthorne: Miss. Stern? How did you get my cell phone...

Miss. Stern: Never mind that Stephen, I'm in quite an annoyed mood right now, not at you, but more at your...ahem....opponent for Endgame...

That ahem seemed more like a noise made out of disgust more then her trying to keep mum or subtle about the subject. Hawthorne pretty much felt he knew the reason why.

Miss. Stern: You've no doubt heard Mr. Strikmore's radio broadcast from today?

Hawthorne: After I came back from our meeting I was told about it, had to wait a few hours for the repeat though...

Miss. Stern: The same with me. Truth be told, not that I don't like talking with you Stephen, but I would have rather been listening live so I could give Mr. Strikmore what for as soon as he was off the air...

Hawthorne: Listen, Miss. Stern, Bucky was just speaking his...

Miss. Stern: Bucky?

Hawthorne: Yeah, Bucky, I don't think he...

Miss. Stern: I'm afraid I don't follow Stephen...

Hawthorne had unknowingly used this inside joke nick name of his to Strikmore (much like Strikmore had Cap for him) without realizing not many people knew about it. Pausing for a moment, he regrouped.

Hawthorne: Sorry, just a...nickname I have for him is all...

Miss. Stern: Mmmhmm, continue please...

Hawthorne: Well, Miss. Stern, Buc....erm, Strikmore, he did what you wanted right? Plugged the Endgame event, and if you ask me, he...

Miss. Stern: (Cutting Hawthorne off) Made a mockery of our main event! Stephen, of course I look forward to your match...but I look forward to our main event much more, for reasons I'm sure you know...

Hawthorne: Of course, of course...so uh, why exactly did this warrant a call Miss. Stern, if you don't mind me asking?

Miss. Stern: Basically? Hawthorne...I don't want you to just beat Strikmore at Endgame...I want you to teach him a lesson...

Hawthorne: ...A lesson ma'am?

Miss. Stern: Indeed...Mr. Strikmore needs to learn what happens when you don't do what I request to do...and I couldn't think of a better person to give out that lesson then you Stephen...

Hawthorne: Me? Now wait a minute, what...

Miss. Stern: I'm counting on you Stephen, make my night at Endgame....

Click. Hang up. Hawthorne stared at his cell phone for several silent moments before finally dropping it back into his bag and sighing, putting a hand to his face and letting it droop down it before speaking.

Hawthorne: Just when one door to this crazy week closes....another one's gotta always open up...

*Stephen sat in the hotel lounge, chin resting on his propped up fingers. Every so often, he glances down at his phone lying on the table. He's not so sure he should have answered that call. Competition is one thing. What Stern was asking was almost like a mob hit. Teach him a lesson? Maybe this is the price people hinted at when he was offered the title shot. He hears the lobby doors open, and he fixes his eyes on them. Finally, the right person walks through. Matt walks in, hair matted from the rain. His face is blank, but his eyes are tired. Stephen gets up from his seat, and waves down Matt.*

Hawthorne: Hey, Bucky!. I was wondering when you'd show up again.

Matt: Hey Cap. Been waiting for me?

Hawthorne: You know you put a target on yourself just now, right?

Matt: Oh, that old thing? Been there for a while now.

Hawthorne: That interview you did spread it out a bit more. Got some on me, too.

Matt: Don't worry. I'll get the shelling. You'll get some shrapnel at worst.

Hawthorne: You're taking this pretty lightly.

Matt: And you're getting far too concerned. I know what I'm doing, and trust me, I don't say that often. I'm not going to stand here and tell you to follow my lead. All I'm asking of you is that you show up with your boots laced up tight. I figure it'll all come naturally after that.

Hawthorne: Bucky. Matt. Stern is pretty upset right now.

Matt: Yeah, that's a good guess.

Hawthorne: It's not a guess. She told me.

Matt: Why would she tell you?

Hawthorne: Like I said. You got some of that target on me, too.

Matt: Well, get used to it. Just about everyone winds up on that end of her phone calls.

Hawthorne: I'm not going to stand here and defend her all night, but you seem to be laying into it pretty hard.

Matt: Look. The way I've seen it play out is that Stern doesn't care about you until you get a following. Once you get to the point where fans will realize you're gone, then she'll take notice. And once you catch her eye, there's only two piles you can fit into. People she likes, and people that make the company money.

Hawthorne: And you think you've caught her eye?

Matt: If I haven't, I'm right on her peripheral. And lets just say I'm glad I do OK in my merchandise sales, because I'm not willing to be one of the people she likes in order to keep my job.

Hawthorne: There's nothing wrong with being liked, Matt.

*Stephen catches himself getting defensive in his voice. He tries to soften it, but isn't convinced Matt didn't pick up on it.*

Matt: There's nothing wrong with it, no. But in this situation, there's always a reason for it. Far as I'm concerned? Stern doesn't like anybody because of their glowing personality. She "likes" people because she finds them useful. Gaining friends is like prepping for an arms race for her. Hey, listen, I'm beat. Gotta rest the neck.

*Matt pats Stephen on the shoulder as he walked by, lifting his feet only just enough to clear the floor while he walks. Stephen doesn't turn, doesn't watch him go. He breathes deep before turning around. He can't go back to his room again feeling bewildered and lost. He need some direction, some answers. He had to know where things stood, if only so he can pick his place to stand.*

Hawthorne: Why are you pushing this so hard? It's not like you.

Matt: It's personal.

Hawthorne: Then get personal.

Matt: Ok. Ok, you want to know? Because every morning, I wake up with my neck stabbing at me. It'll be one year come Endgame that I broke my neck. Every morning, when that spike of pain goes straight to my toes, I'm reminded. I saw my childhood dreams crushed along with my vertebrae. I'd finally made it! I was a double champion going into the show. I was going to have two matches on the biggest night in TCW. I left that night on a stretcher and without a title to my name. I've done a lot of things in my time here. Inaugural Majestic Cup winner. Two time TC champion. Tag champion. I've been beaten, in the ring, exactly once. All those things, and guess what is forefront in people's minds when they think of the premier Matt Strikmore moment? My neck getting broken. Getting carted out.

Matt: This is personal because despite my attempts to be upbeat, I know my time in this industry is limited now. I'm not going to celebrate my fortieth birthday in the ring. Hell, I'm doubtful for thirty. But people are going to remember me for what I came here to do. They're going to remember me for the matches. For the wrestling. My neck isn't going to allow me to wait my turn, or for a rise in general interest. It wakes me up every morning, yelling at me, letting me know it's never going to be same. Telling me to hurry up. So I'm fine getting all manner of target painted on me if it gets attention to what I need to show. And if a few people get some heat along the way, I'm sorry, but I don't have time to be precise with this. I'm going to get my Endgame moment. I'm going to replace that image of me getting destroyed. Win or lose, my fate is in that ring, and people are going to be watching every minute of it, Stern included. I'm going to change things here in TCW.

Matt: So this is what you're going to be across from at Endgame. This is the mindset. That's why I've been telling you to bring your game. To get into that competitive nature. This match isn't going to be friendly. It's not going to be nice. It's going to be a contest, and when it's all done, I'll raise your hand despite the outcome. Because we're friends. Actual friends, and I'm happy to be next to you when this moment happens. But come Stern, come Hell, I'm not going to be stopped with this. Cause maybe, just maybe, when it's all said and done, I'll be able to sleep again. Maybe my neck will give me a day off, its own special way of saying "Good job". And above all else, I'm certainly not going to have that pain every day the rest of my life telling me that my time is gone. Now, if you're satisfied, I'm going to go to my room and hope to sleep. I'll catch up with you tomorrow.

*Matt tosses his arm up in leaving, Stephen lifting his head slightly in response. And now the ground seems solid. Now, he can make a choice.*

(OOC: This post takes place moments before the "Endgame" match between Strikmore and Hawthorne)

Strikmore's words had been echoing through Hawthorne's mind for days. It wasn't just what Strikmore said that stuck with Hawthorne, it was the way he said it, the passion he put into it, the pure emotion, something Hawthorne hadn't seen in a long time. One phrase in particular though stuck out to Hawthorne from all of it:

"This match isn't going to be friendly. It's not going to be nice."

That is what made Hawthorne pay extra special attention...that is what made Hawthorne realize that this wasn't just a "show stealing" match that he and Strikmore were going to have at Endgame...this was going to be a war. Pacing about backstage, Hawthorne ignored the various people walking back and fourth past him, ignored the crew worker who briefly patted his shoulder and said "Good luck out there Hawthorne.", and almost...almost, ignored the very person who had started this whole crazy saga off several weeks ago...

"Stephen...if I may speak to you for a moment before your match?"

It seemed like Stern was always just coincidentally where Hawthorne was nowadays wasn't it? Slowly turning to face the smiling owner, he took a few steps towards her and replied.

Hawthorne: Sure thing, but try and keep it as short as possible, I have my mind on other things at the moment...

Stern: Of course, of course....it's only two little things to be honest, number one...good luck in your match tonight, it's gonna be a classic, I just know it...

Hawthorne: (Nods, he's used to hearing this from her by now) Uh huh...thank you...

Stern: And number two...remember what I talked about....remember what I want you to do...I'm pretty sure I don't have to say it out loud right?

Nope, she didn't have to say it out loud, or even a whisper, he knew what she meant. This was another thing that had stuck out in his mind for some time now, even longer then Strikmore's last speech to him. Something that had him uneasy and wanting to some last minute negotiations...

Hawthorne: Miss. Stern, can this whole thing with Buck....ahem, Strikmore, just be put aside? Can't we just put on a good match and...

Miss. Stern: (As if Hawthorne didn't speak at all) I hope, Stephen, that things turn out positively by the end of this match...make me proud....

And with that, she was gone down the hall. Hawthorne let out a frustrated grunt and slammed his hand against a nearby locker.

Strikmore: (V.O) Hey Cap, don't wanna hurt your hand when our match is just a few minutes away, do you?

Hawthorne: (Pauses for a moment, he turns to face Strikmore, who is behind him, smirking a bit) No, that wouldn't be the way to go...didn't see you there Bucky....you ready?

Strikmore: Been ready....you?

Hawthorne: Yeah...listen....I've been thinking about what you said a few days ago...

Strikmore: About that, listen Cap, I didn't mean it as any knock against you, I was just in the moment and all and...

Hawthorne: No, no...it's ok, I mean, I know where you're coming from...Heck, I was out for a year with a broken leg...It was pure torture from start to finish. Ignoring the fact that it was broken to begin with, the damn thing didn't heal properly at first, so my doctor had to rebreak it and set it in a different way so it *would* heal...not only did that add about 5 or 6 more months of me being inactive, but it pushed the pain dial from an 8 to a 20. Even now, like your neck, my leg gives me pain. *I* wake up in the morning too with my leg aching. Sometimes I don't even *want* to get out of bed...I just say to myself "Maybe if I stay here all day and rest, this damn leg will stop throbbing." But somehow I find a way to get up...maybe it's craziness, maybe it's my love for wrestling, I don't know, but I do know that Bucky, like you yourself, this Cap knows what the pain is like...Now I respect you Strikmore, heck, I consider us good friends, but again like you, I'm gonna treat this match like it's life or death...For all you dish out on me out there, I'm gonna dish it right back...if I lose, heck, I lose, but at least I'll know I gave it my all and I pushed you to your very limits...

Strikmore: (Silent for a moment, then, he smirks and nods) Oh yeah, we are *so* ready to steal this show right from under everyone's noses...

Ring Announcer: (V.O, Distant) This next contest is for one fall, and it is for the Transcontinental Championship!

Hawthorne: (Smirks as well and shakes Strikmore's hand) Couldn't agree more Buck....

*It sounds like he's in the middle of an earthquake, feels like the eye of a storm. The electricity of the event trickles down even now, through the floorboards and corridors, touching every room and hair on the back of a neck. Even as he tried to keep stoic and isolated, he couldn't help but soak it in. Feeding on the excitement, but staying completely ignorant of the results thus far. The last person he saw was the onsite physician, who had thankfully cleared him for tonight. Of course, he did the same thing last year, and he still ended up on a stretcher by nights end. But there's no time like the present to break tradition. A knock on the door breaks his concentration. His eyes shift over to the door, his hands reaching for his roll of medical tape.*

Stagehand: Matt, three minutes till you're up.

Matt: Wouldn't miss it.

*The visitor is gone as quick as he came, leaving Matt to his final thoughts. His last chance to see everything laid out in front of him, set up as carefully as he was able. As he begins to wrap his wrists as a matter of muscle memory, he visits the one person he can always talk to. Himself.*

Matt: I'm not going to lie. This a big hand I'm playing, and I'm still not sure if it's a bluff yet. That's the thing with bluffs though, isn't it? No one buys them if you don't buy it yourself. Full on belief that a liars hand is better than anything genuine at the table. It's not a bluff for certain though, is it? I know I'm one card short of something great. A hand that's going to make some players fume off in anger, or sit shocked behind their cards. So this is what I bet everything on? Hope? That when I get in the ring, I can live up to the promises I've made? It's not easy to prove you're as good as everyone says, because everyone else has no stake in being wrong. The bar is high, and to top it off, now I've got everyone watching me.

*Matt gets up and starts pacing the small locker room he'd found himself. His socializing tonight has been minimal. Barely ate at catering. It's not nerves or fear, but he just can't spare the effort to think about being hungry, about being tired. He knows he needs every iota of energy and determination, because once the bell ends the match, he's going to be empty. He's going to be left holding nothing, baring all in the ring to show who he is and what he believes in. Wrestling.*

Matt: Two minutes till I stop thinking about this. Two minutes till my mind switches off and I finally take over. No more living in my head, no more analogies and visuals. Just going out and wrestling like it's as important as breathing. No, not like. Is. This is what I am, what I've made myself become and what I let myself become. This is going to be the definition of Matt Strikmore. This is going to change everything here. People are going to notice, I won't give them a chance to look away. Make no mistake, Matt. What you're doing isn't easy, or even likely. You're walking up to the mountain and telling it to move. And so help me, it will.

*Matt walks out the door, swinging his arms and rolling his neck. The sound man points at him and gives a thumbs up, the sign that all the changes he'd made are go. They're going to notice this. From the first note, they'll feel something is different. That something is happening. The hallways are hectic, people running every which direction. He's stepped out of his earthquake shelter. Left the eye of the storm and entered the whipping winds and debris. Walking confident, self assured, he sees his opponent. The other side of the equation. A friend. Does he feel it too? His lot was thrown in too. Matt sees Stephen punch the locker, his frustration and emotion exiting in guttural noise. He feels it. Matt feels it. That last playing card is almost in view, and Matt dares confidence. Just a few moments left now. Time for them to face the mountain down.*

Matt: Hey Cap...

*They'll soon see if they're a chapter or a footnote.*