The room was damp and hot, in fact it felt as if he had been training in a greenhouse for the last two hours. He was panting despite his excellent condition and the droplets of sweat from two hours ago had turned to a veritable flood of perspiration. He wiped his hands on his shorts as he got up from yet another humiliating defeat. Damn him he thought, damn him for throwing me like a ragdoll.

“Not happy with the beating, eh?” a thick Canadian voice asked.

“Go fuck yourself, Leland...” he spat out.

“Again?” The old man asked .

“Again.” he replied.

And again he charged, stretching out his arm to hammer the old man with a clothesline...again he eat nothing but canvas and the laughter of the Canadian idiot. Above him the old man shook his head, there was no joy in his face and no feeling of satisfaction drawn from dropping his student again.

*****

Chicago slept beneath him. The roof of Sears Tower gave him a great view of the resting windy city. He looked down on the city that had both been razed by fire and run by Al Capone. Chicago was a city of legends, it was the city of the mobsters like Capone, the city of Michael Jordan, the legend of basketball, the city of the Bears, the White Sox and the Blackhawks. It was a city dubbed the windy city, and trust me: on a night like this the second city deserved it's name fully. He looked out over the blackened cityscape that he had made his home.

His life was in shambles, he had lived out of a motel room the last few days. He had been thrown out, cast out from his own family...again. His life, it seemed was a steady string of repeats, failing to make people see his way and a constant stream of failing relationships. He shouldn't be surprised, but he was. It had been so perfect, so wonderful and so full of love...he wondered if he could ever...

He got no further as a female voice, a voice with the accent of a British woman and the strange tang of a lupine in it interrupted him.

“Aren't you at home?”

He turned to her and felt a small amount of warmth return to his chilled bones. He replied with a weak grin and went back to staring at the city. Smoke rose from manhole covers below, it was easy to imagine the city of Capone and Elliot Ness on a night like this.

Freya walked up to him and leaned against the railing around the top floor of “Sears”.

“City got your tounge?”Freya asked.

“No...” Dante said letting the word drift off into the night as he paused to find a way to tell Freya about his problems without sounding as if he was trying to dump them on her.

“Freya...I...we...” *damn* “...I'm not home because...*sigh* Selenia threw me out.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Freya asked, already knowing the answer.

“The business with the ring I guess...she blames me for what it did to me.”

“I see.”

“I just wanted you to know.”

“Ok.”

Dante went back to looking at the city again. He had hoped that telling Freya would make him feel better, but instead he could almost hear her agreeing with Selenia. He decided to let it pass.”

“So, where are you staying?”

“I found this motel...”

“Motel? You could ask Stern for a place at the staff hotel...”

Dante shook his head.

“I see.” Freya said and started staring at the city along his her soon to be partner.

“What are we going to do about Hawthrone?” Dante asked after what seemed like an eternity.

“Dunno.” Freya said with a shrug. “Can't say I'm too surprised at what Darkness did...”

“Me neither...Darkness isn't a people person.”

Freya smiled a weak smile.

“Not really, no.”

“Rumour has it you and I will team up to face Desean and Hawthrone at the net show.” Date said.

“I heard the same thing.” Freya replied.

“Got a plan?” Dante asked trying to sound casual and calm and failing.

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Ok.”

As the soon to be tag team partners stood on the roof of Sears tower, Dante felt a strange earthy smell drift into his nostrils, he looked at Freya, he fought the urge to tell her, slowly it grew to a ball and he had to speak his mind.

“You smell like a forest.”

“What?” Freya said, sounding genuinely surprised.

“You smell like wood and soil...”

She smiled.

“Yeah I guess I do.” Her smile showed discomfort at Dante's strange comment.

“I hope you don't think I'm...you know even though Selenia threw me out I'm still a married father you know....sorry.”

Freya smiled a genuine smile.

“Don't worry about it.” she paused. “Feel like an early breakfast?”

“Why not?”

The two team mates began to walk towards the elevator. As the steel door opened, Dante looked at Freya.

“Do you think we need a plan to deal with Desean and Hawthrone?”

“Yeah, I do...”

“So do I. Desean is a hotheaded guy, maybe we can use that?”

“I doubt it, Hawthrone is far from hotheaded and I think he will keep Desean in line.”

“Maybe...I wonder if this is all Strikmore's doing...”

Freya sighed.

“I think it is, Strikmore is a lot better at dealing with people then Darkness is.”

“True, I guess it's too late now but I wish I had treated Hawthrone better...I mean it's no wonder he felt left out...”

Freya nodded.

“It's too late to change though.”

“Yeah.”

“We need a plan though.”

“Yeah, and I have one...”

“You do?” Freya replied sounding puzzled.

“Yeah, Breakfast at Georgie's...” Dante replied with a grin filled with a strange sense of joy.

"What the hell went on out there?" Freya had burst into Hawthorne's locker room.

"Why don't you tell me?" He was sat on one of the benches, still in his wrestling gear, ice pack held against his jaw. Freya moved closer to have a look but he waved her away.

"He didn't mean to kick you, DeSean moved."

"Well, that’s okay then. As long as he didn't mean to, I guess I can get rid of this then." He hurled the ice pack across the room. "And I expect he didn't mean to put me out of action last year either."

"He didn't..."

"Why the hell do you take his side?!" Hawthorne was pacing the room, limping slightly as the match had aggravated his injury. "I thought I was your partner: you're meant to be on my side."

"He's part of the stable. Our stable. I'm on both your sides, I just think you're being stupid if you can't see this was just an accident."

"I'm being stupid? You’re the one who's back to being buddy-buddy with a guy who not long ago was out of his mind and hurled fireballs at you." He picked up the ice pack he'd discarded before. "Darkness and Jason don't want me around. I don't fit. They're freaks."

"Freaks? Is that how you really think of us? Or is that Matt talking?" A knock at the door interrupted her. She gave it a quick glance. "Right, of course. The non-freaks are here. I'll leave you guys to it."

Hawthorne grabbed her arm. "I didn't mean you, you're not a freak. Just the others...."

"I'm a werewolf, Stephen. Dante is like every other guy out there, married with a daughter. Darkness was the same." She lowered her voice so the people on the other side of the door couldn't hear. "Me? I'm the biggest freak, I can change form at will; I could rip your throat out with no problems. I carry the key to Hell around so the forces of evil can't get to it. If you want to talk about freaks you should know where to point the finger." She shook her arm free. "I'll see you around." She pulled open the door and shouldered her way between Matt Strikmore and DeSean.

The three men watched her go.

"Such a happy person," DeSean said as they entered Hawthorne's locker room.

**

The diner bustled, even at this time in the morning. They sat in a booth towards the back of the restaurant. Two mugs of steaming coffee were between them and very quickly two plates were plonked down in front as well. Dante rubbed his hands together happily before picking up his knife and fork and attacking his breakfast.

"Now, I know I said you could order for me, but pancakes with a fried breakfast?" Freya poked the small round pancakes that were placed by her bacon.

"It's good," he managed to get out between mouthfuls. "Put some of this on them and the bacon, and if it gets on the sausages, that’s no bad thing either." He winked as he pushed the maple syrup bottle closer with his fork.

"All right. So what are we going to do about DeSean?" Freya asked, applying the syrup to her pancakes, taking care to not let it touch any of the meat.

"No idea."

"You said you had a plan."

Dante waved his fork in the air. "This was it."

"Ah." Freya cut into her breakfast and tried some of it. "Not bad."

"So what are we actually going to do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? But DeadZone..."

"Stephen..."

"Stephen has turned his back on us."

"Did he?" Freya looked at her team-mate. "You said it yourself, you weren't the most welcoming person," she held up a hand as Dante went to interrupt her, "I know, there's been a lot going on, and Darkness isn't much better. As it goes, I'd rather have a friend not in the Club, than another enemy. You never know, he may ease things between us and them."

"That's it? You're not going to do anything?"

"There's nothing to do." Freya pushed scrambled eggs around her plate. "Plus it gives you time to sort things out with Selenia."

"I... I don't know what to do. I told you, she kicked me out."

"So having breakfast with another woman is going to help?"

"It's you. It's not like that. You're like a sister."

"I don't need another brother, Jason." She got up and dug a couple of notes from her pocket and put them next to her partly eaten breakfast. "I'll see you later."

After a match those who are backstage can describe to you the types of sounds coming from the locker rooms, one is the sound of the victory, the sounds of joy and happiness as wrestlers celebrate. The other is frustration and anger from those who have lost, or even worse silence maybe from the disappointment, or they're so shock that words can't even describe what they're feeling, some may exhibit all of the emotions of losing in one sitting. They go from yelling, screaming, crying, violence on poor inanimate objects and silence. Guess which side DeSean was on.

DeSean: "WOOOO! WOOOO!"

DeSean is backstage banging lockers and his own chest, celebrating he and Matt's victory over Hawthorne and Darkness. Better yet it was the first shot and he and Strikmore took it (more or less he) also it looked like Hawthorne was starting to see the light. It was a very good and progressive night for them but it definitely wasn't over by a long shot.

*Knock Knock*

There was a knock on the inside of the wall, DeSean peeped at the entrance and sighed as Russell walked in.

DeSean: What is it?

Russell: We leave in 30 minutes, we gotta get the hell out of here.

DeSean: OK fine, do you have a camera?

Russell: For what?

DeSean: For a quick promo

Russell: Do I look I can operate a camera right now?

DeSean: Dammit, Russell get the camera it's our last time in the states for a while, I want to cut a promo let's go! Chop Chop.

Russell peered at DeSean who stared back at him arms folded, Russell walked off and muttered to himself about DeSean always wanting to cut promos among other things, not so flattering. He came back with an handheld camera and a microphone, he told DeSean to hurry up.

DeSean: This is just the beginning, the first shot has been fired on the New Hellfire Club and trust me it won't be the last, on this night our last time here in the states before we head out to China. Technical Perfection proved why we are the best tag team in professional wrestling but better yet Stephen Hawthorne or "Cap" my esteemed teammate calls him. He made the right choice, he saw the light and now you guys find yourselves one member short., now 3 on 3.

Darkness you can only treat people like shit for so long until they stand up and say enough is enough. I'm not Hawthorne's spokesperson so when he wants to explain his own actions, he can. All I know is the clock is ticking on your reign Darkness and Me, Matt, Hawthorne will be the ones who will end it. See you in Beijing.

Russell: There you're happy now?

DeSean: Yea I am, extremely happy.

Russell: Good, pack your bags and be at the van in 30 minutes.

DeSean: Fine I'll be out there, I just have to take care of some business.

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

"Such a happy person" DeSean remarked as Freya exited the locker room,

Hawthorne: Yea she's not too thrilled with me right now because of the Darkness situation.

DeSean: Bummer, she'll get over it.

Matt: So how's your jaw?

Hawthorne: Could be better but the ice numb it.

DeSean: Look as much as I enjoy small talk, we don't have much time and I don't know who'll be in the van with us.

Hawthorne: OK, I'm all ears.

DeSean: Matt thinks I was a little too excessive with Darkness.

Matt: You were

DeSean rolled his eyes at his partner and continued.

DeSean: I explained to Matt that I got caught up in the heat of the moment but I think Darkness would have done the same to me. He has done the same to me... things are going to get serious, they're going to reach a boiling point and when that happens I hate for anyone to be there when the pot whistles.

What I'm tryin to say is that rumor has it me and you will be facing Dante and Freya. Now frankly I own Freya, I have papers on her ass. I own her so much I can claim her as a deductible, I'm not that worried because I know me and you together can beat anybody. We fired the first shot tonight but guess what it's not over by a long shot.

Hawthorne: No it's not, I know what you're getting at DeSean. I'll be OK, when me and Freya are in the ring against each other, she'll be just another opponent. I'm an competitor, Matt

DeSean: OK that's what I wanted to hear. Not that I don't trust you because I do but fighting friends can be hard, I've had to do it before. It's never easy.

DeSean stood up and gave an Hawthorne a pat on the back, he and Matt both left the locker room while Hawthorne still applied the ice pack to his jaw. He hunched over in his chair and threw the ice pack in his briefcasemainly out of frustration. He looked back down at the ice pack and moved aside, as a picture caught his eye. It was an photo of he and Freya, it had to be two years old as he doesn't remember taking it recently. The two of them were both smiling and it looked like they were at an autograph session. He shook his head and threw the photo back in the brief case, he then closed it, stood up and walked out of the locker room, closing the door behind him.