<center>


All four participants have a rich and painful intertwining history. Freya and Hawthorne have been waiting months to get their shot at the Tag Titles, while DeSean has seen his partner taking out of action. Last night, he found a more-than-suitable replacement in the man he faced at Apeirophobia. Will the two men be able to bring their mat skills together to capture the titles, or will Freya and Hawthorne's teamwork experience pay off?</center>

Freya walked back into the arena building, shaking her head. A familiar figure in white was walking towards her.

"Hey, have you seen the maniac?"

"Darkness just left on that bike of his." She gestured over her shoulder in the general direction Darkness had left in. She moved to walk past Dante but he put his hand on her shoulder.

"You ok?" He asked.

"Hmm, yeah, just worried about Darkness."

"You're worried about Darkness?" He huffed slightly. "I'm the one with the concussion."

Freya narrowed her eyes at him. "Did you beat the crap out of an opponent before your match and then continue to turn them into a pulp during the match? Did you let your friend suffer a head injury after a match? No, you have a concussion that you know full well will heal soon enough." She took a deep breath. "He's so black and white, flicking from paragon of goodness, everybody's moral conscience, to being like the demons he spent so much of his life trying to remove from the world. He can't find the balance; there aren't any of the shades of grey he tries to reach. When it came to getting revenge on Drakus for what he did to you he was above it all, but the minute someone messes with him he goes like this..." She waved her hands around her head to try and get across what she couldn't describe.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Me? I'm going to stay out of the lunatics fucking way. Last thing I need is a silver bullet in my back."

"He wouldn't..." Dante's voice trailed off as Freya raised an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't he? He's done some serious damage to Joyride, whether he deserved it or not, left you to the mercy of Hammer. He's not even going to think twice about getting rid of the werewolf. Fuck, the way he was just then I'm surprised he didn't do it when I called him ‘Buffy'." She started to walk away from Dante.

"So where are you going?"

"I dunno, try and find my tag partner, check to see how Misfit is, stay out of Darkness's way. I don't need his shit right now."

Dante turned and looked out of the main doors, the bright lights making him wince.

"Dante?"

"Freya."

"Do you know how to kill the Antichrist?"

He turned to her. "I think that's a bit extreme."

"It may need to be considered," she looked at her feet, "if he carries on, how are we meant to stop him?"

"It won't come to that."

"If you say so."

"I do." His jaw was set firm as he listened to Freya's foot steps disappeared. It wouldn't come to that.

**

That was before, in Montreal, and Freya was hoping she'd be able to check in with Dante at the Meditech centre in Winnipeg.

Freya pulled up out outside of the building. She hoped Dante was there so she could ask if he'd caught up with Darkness. The reception area was spartan, and nobody seemed to be around. Confused and unsure what to do, Freya decided to leave.

"Hello, can I help you?"

Freya turned to locate the voice. Jay Ecks was standing in a doorway.

"Oh, hi, Jay."

"Hey, I didn't realise it was you." He gave her a tired smile. "Here to see Gideon?"

"Misfit's here? I didn't realise - I was actually hoping to find Jason..."

"They brought Gideon in yesterday; moved him down so you guys can keep an eye on him I guess. Want to come up?" Jay pushed the door open a little wider to let Freya into the white corridors of building's interior. At her nod in reply to his question, he led the way, his longer stride causing Freya to hurry to try and keep up.

They reached Misfit's room eventually. The corridor wall contained a large window into the suite and through it the immobile form of Misfit was visible lying in the bed, various machines bleeping regularly around him.

"You can go in if you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've got to check on something." He pushed open the door for Freya again. "He won't wake up or anything, we're having to keep him under until he heals up a bit more."

Freya nodded mutely as Jay disappeared and walked up to Misfit. She was uncomfortable; she didn't cope well with hospitals, her family never having any need for them. Being ill wasn't something a werewolf had to worry about. She looked down at the pallid face of the normally smiling man.

"I didn't bring you any grapes," she said apologetically. She couldn't stand the quiet, interrupted only by the incessant beeping. She moved some of Misfit's shocking red hair that had been lying across one of his eyes. "Your roots are starting to show," she observed, noting the dark hair at his scalp. There was a large burn across his cheek, covered with some clear membrane. It looked like cellophane. She found her fingers reaching to touch it out of some sick fascination.

"You ready?"

Jay Ecks was back, and his sudden reappearance made Freya jump back.

"Oh...yeah...I should be heading over to my hotel..."

He showed her back to the main doors and she turned to him as she left. "Hey, can you do me a favour?"

"Sure."

"Can you give me a ring if Darkness or Jason turn up? I'm having trouble getting in touch with them."

"Of course. No problem."

"Thanks, " she smiled, "see you later I guess."

"Later."

**

Matt Strikmore picked up his bag from the baggage carousel and started to walk off.

"Wait up!" He looked around and saw DeSean jogging after him. "What's up?"

"Where do you get off telling me who I can and can't talk to?" Strikmore asked him as he shouldered his bag and walked towards the arrivals gate.

"I'm your partner, I think I get a say."

"You decided I was your partner. I didn't get a say in that. You can't stop me talking to who I want to."

DeSean kept pace with him and rapped the back of his hand against the Transcontinental Champion's stomach. "You don't want a shot at the tag belts, man?"

Strikmore fixed him with a flat look. "I already have one belt, and a shot at any other any time I want."

"Yeah, but there's no better time to go for them. Vacant belts...only DeadZone and Freya in our way..."

"I don't think he likes being called that anymore."

"He prefers ‘Cap', huh?"

"Let's not get into that again," Strikmore sighed.

"Whatever name he's using, he's the only thing in our way, man."

Strikmore nodded. "Sure. And Freya. You remember Freya, right? I was a little busy last week so I didn't catch your match, but I heard you came up a little short."

DeSean made a ‘pfft' sound. "Don't play that game with me, Strikmore. I don't want us to be ‘tag partners who can't get along'. Freya beat me, but I beat her before, alright?"

Strikmore stopped and turned to his would-be tag partner. "We're not ‘tag partners who can't get along', huh? I'm down with that - I didn't come here to make enemies and, before the business with my belt," he nodded towards his bag in which the Transcontinental Title was securely nestled, "I thought you and I were getting along fine."

It was clear Strikmore was building up to something. "Yeah, so?" DeSean prompted.

"So, if it wasn't to obey the pro. wrestling cliché, just why did you pick me for you partner?"

DeSean looked at him but then turned away and made the same ‘pfft' noise again. He clasped his hands in front of him and then planted them on his hips. "Alright, I'll break it down for you." He rapped the back of his hand against Strikmore's chest. "You're the best in the business today."

Strikmore brightened, in spite himself. "Really? You think so?"

"Yeah. I want you on my team because I think you can beat whatever they put in front of us."

"Alright...I guess that makes sense..."

"Yeah." DeSean turned away. Strikmore frowned at him, but his partner wasn't forthcoming and, in a few moments, they were walking again. His silence was strange, but it suddenly occurred to Matt that it must have cost a man like DeSean a lot to admit that he needed someone else's help to win.

*The best in the business today? That was a lot to take in at once, and admittedly caught him off guard. True, Matt had been running with a hot hand since landing in TCW, but he figured that he'd start floating toward that .500 mark at some point. Everything that's hot gets cooled down eventually. Or explodes.*

Matt: For what it's worth guy, you're a hell of a talent. I mean, half of the high flying stuff you do can't be taught to me. It's just beyond my abilities.

*DeSean spares a quick side glance at Matt, seeing Matt keeping his face forward. These kinds of professional admissions are difficult, eye contact or no.*

DeSean: Thanks. So what are we now? The "tag team that doesn't like one another but holds respect for the other"?

*Matt laughs softly, but he can't laugh as hard as he would were the situation different. Matt stops walking and slightly raises his hand as he tries to best sort out his words. DeSean stops a few steps later, noticing Matt's halting. The airport is relatively uncrowded, but still, some travelers change the flow of traffic and move around the island this new tag team has become. Matt starts to speak, slowly and with many pauses as he pieces together his thoughts slowly.*

Matt: Listen... I. As a professional, I respect what you can do in the ring. Anyone who's gone through any length of road in this industry has to respect anyone that laces up boots night after night. I respect and acknowledge that you have game, and that our styles and strengths could mesh well as a team.

DeSean: But as a person?

Matt: As Matt Strikmore, I think you're just about the lowest person I know in this company. You are what I despise as a person.

DeSean: Why? Because I jumped you? Because I have the passion and the balls to take what I want in this company?

Matt: That's only half of it. That made me mad. It upset me. But when you had the gall to stand in front of a camera, with my belt on your shoulder, and say that you respect me? To pervert the entire concept of respect? That's a slap in the face. And now I'm supposed to be cool? Truth be told, I'd rather Hawthorne and Freya have the titles. At least they understand the concept.

DeSean: So that's how it is?

Matt: Personally? Yeah, that's how it is.

DeSean: And professionally?

Matt: You know the rules. Stern says, we do. I have to go stand in the same corner as you. Beyond that? There's no instructions. I do what I want.

DeSean: Well, since you're so set on steering this "relationship", what now?

*DeSean drops his bag by his side and rolls his neck. His pulse quickens and his nostrils flare ever so slightly. Matt reaches up and resettles his hat. He looks away to his left and speaks with conviction.*

Matt: Now? Now, I'm getting a Cinnabon.

*Matt turns away from DeSean and starts walking towards the food stand.*

DeSean: I'm sorry, what?

*Matt stops and turns around. He extends his arms to his side in disbelief.*

Matt: Cinnabon? Delicious cinnamon treat? Ooey gooey frosting? You keeping up with this?

*Matt turns his back on his partner once again and walks to the counter. Placing his order, DeSean walks up and grabs him by the shoulder.*

DeSean: Is this a joke to you? Is this funny?

Matt: I never joke about Cinnabon. They're delicious.

DeSean: We have issues to work out. Problems to resolve.

Matt: Resolve how? Fight? We tried that. I figure baked goods has a good a chance as any. Now, you want one or not?

*The cashier stands at the register, looking at Matt. Matt leans on the counter and just points to DeSean. DeSean sighs and lets his shoulders fall.*

DeSean: Yeah.

Matt: Two.

**********

*The two men walk into the night air, the double doors sliding open before them. DeSean makes his way over to a waiting limo while Matt grabs at the door handle of a taxi. Already, the paths are split. DeSean smiles.*

DeSean: As long as you're my partner, all privileges apply to you. You're rolling with Infinity now.

Matt: See, this is one of those dividing things we were talking about earlier. You've got a decision to make. You can either roll with Infinity, or you can roll with your tag partner. If we win this match, you're only bring half of the tag titles to Infinity. But if you're going into this match and this team with the idea of following some grand Infinity plan, then we're not gonna make it past five minutes. So you decide what you want. A title for yourself, or a title for Infinity.

*Matt tosses his bags in the trunk of the taxi and slams it shut. Opening the back door, he slides in, keeping one foot still on the curb. DeSean looks back and forth at the limo and the cab. Matt tells the taxi driver the address of hotel and watches the red numbers of the meter roll over to zero.*

Matt: Door number one, or door number two? Clock's ticking.

*After Friction*

DeSean stands by himself in the back, he's on the phone talking to someone when he sees the camera, he tells the person he'll call them right back. He looks at the camera and begins to speak.

DeSean: So Friction is over, hopefully you had a good time watching it as much as the fans here live enjoyed looking at it. Infinity won some matches and Infinity lost matches, well I lost my match. This was supposed to be a wake up call for me and for Infinity because we were not happy with the results of Aperiophobia so tonight was the night we were going to get serious again and start doing what we do which was go out here and make a name for ourselves. Apparently that wake up call didn't reach me because I lost to fucking Freya.

I've beaten Freya so many times before and yet tonight just was not my night! But I'm not going to sulk, no because I just chose a man who has one lost to his resume here in TCW and that man is Matt Strikmore. Matt may have beaten me at Aperiophobia and even though that was a reversal and even though I lost a rope break and even though I was stuck in the ropes. Matt beat me fair and square so right now Matt, I'm counting on you and if we go out there and we wrestle the way we did against each other. We'll be an unstoppable tag team and once we win the tag titles maybe just maybe you'll give me a rematch for the Transcontinental title.....

*Ring! Ring*

DeSean looked down into his phone the name Ari appeared

DeSean: Excuse me, this phone call is important

DeSean: Hey Ari what's up?

As DeSean talks, the camera moves away from him and goes to another wrestler who decides to cut a promo themselves

.............................
"Clocks ticking DeSean"

DeSean looked back over at the limo, he was given an ultimatum and he had to make a quick decision. In the back of his mind he wanted to blurt out that he wanted it all but he didn't, he opened the trunk of the cab and put his bags inside, he then walked on the other side of the cab and opened the door not saying a word he sat beside Strikmore.

Strikmore: Good choice

DeSean: This means nothing, I'm still rolling with Infinity. I just know we need a little team unity if we stand a chance against Freya and Deadzone.

Strikmore: Hawthorne

DeSean: Whatever, like I was saying I want those tag titles now you don't want to be in Infinity...fine I'm hoping you would change your mind but right now you don't want to.

Strikmore: Never want to, I'm my own man

DeSean: So am I, you see Infinity is like a family of sorts we're there for each other but we're still our own man. We don't have leaders, we're all leaders, unlike other stables it's what brings us together. It's why you should reconsider your stance about Infinity.

Strikmore: I don't see that happening

DeSean: Fine don't join us

There was an uncomfortable silence, DeSean thought to himself about how he may have made a mistake in choosing Matt as his partner. DeSean opened his mouth but nothing came out. He looked outside the window, enjoying the scenery.

DeSean(softly to himself): God kill me now

Strikmore glanced at DeSean but didn't say anything as well, finally to break the silence DeSean said the first word that came to him.

DeSean: Soooo....how about them Eagles?

Strikmore: Football season is over

DeSean: I know, it just got quiet that's all. The hell with it when you feel like talking I'm here I have no place to go.

DeSean put on his headphones like he always did when he wanted to clear his mind or escape from it all.

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very mad world mad world

DeSean looked out of his window, he saw various people walking, talking on their cell phones, reflecting on his speech to Infinity, DeSean realized how important that speech was to him and his stable mates but if it was so important then why did he lose? He knew how he lost to Freya but why did he lose? What was he missing? One of the reasons why he picked Matt was because Strikmore had a killer instinct something that DeSean seemed to have lost suddenly. If they were going to win, if he was going to win then he needed to get it back quickly, the question is where did he put it?

The cab began to come to a slow crawl until it finally stopped in front of the hotel, DeSean stepped out first.

DeSean: Next time we take the limo

DeSean didn't give a Matt a chance to respond, he closed the door and walked away from the cab but Matt stopped him.

Matt: You're right, if we want to succeed then we have to find a common bond between me and you.

DeSean: I know, how do you want to do that?

Matt: Let's go to a bar, restaurant, have a beer and talk, I'm sure we'll find something interesting about one another.

DeSean nodded his head in agreement

DeSean: Ok...sounds good to me

With those words they said their goodbyes for the day and planned to meet up later before DeSean walked inside the hotel though, he noticed how bright the sun was shining down on him, he smiled at the sight of Winnipeg skyline and how clear the view was from the hotel. Once he finished admiring the view, he turned and walked inside the lobby. It was easy to admire the sunshine, so easy that he didn't notice the dark clouds beyond the horizon, always looming, ready to pour down and bring the terrible storms that were projected to still come.

*DeSean sat at the bar, the sparse bills from Matt still laying among tossed peanut shells. Gripping the neck of his bottle with one hand, he started to pick at the corner of the label. His thoughts were a bit slowed from the alcohol he consumed trying to make a conversation with Matt intriguing, but he was still functional. He knew this whole set up was about as sturdy as a house of cards. For what it was worth, both of them were trying to keep from causing too many gusts of wind. At this point though, the only thing they had in common was that they both did want to win, but two guys that want to win will usually lose to a team that wants the same. DeSean picks and tugs at the label, more of the brown glass being revealed with each pull.*

DeSean: Best in the business today? Best at getting lucky. The skies smiled on him, and he won our match. Barely.

*DeSean grabs the label harshly and rips it off completely, adhesive with traces of paper marking the otherwise naked bottle.*

DeSean: Luck.

*DeSean digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out a few bills, tossing them on the pile Matt started. DeSean swings around the bar stool and looks at the path to the door. He's not sure what he's looking for. A woman. A fight. Someone to break eye contact. Whatever he's looking for, he doesn't find under this roof, and the chip on his shoulder stays intact. Stepping outside into the night air, DeSean pauses for a moment to let his skin react to the temperature. He closes his eyes and tries to take in everything. The match. His partner. His opponents. The lack of gold. His place in Infinity. He tries to take it all in, and tries to form himself out of it.*

Matt: Nice sky tonight.

*DeSean's eyes fly open and immediately find the source of the sound. He sees Matt, leaning against a burned out lamp post, half empty bottle of beer dangling from his fingertips. His head is leaned back against the post, his eyes slowly darting around the night sky.*

Matt: I know it's all the same stars, but they seem to be lined up better on this side of the ocean. Like they make more sense.

DeSean: Are you always this retarded, or only when you drink?

*Matt lifts up his free hand wobbles it back and forth, as if to say a little of both. DeSean exhales through his nose and shakes his head, not in humor, but simple disbelief.*

Matt: I think I figured it out. I figured out why we're going to lose.

DeSean: It must be because of you. I don't lose anymore.

Matt: That so?

DeSean: Hell yes.

*Matt nods slowly, bringing up the bottle for another sip. The liquid sloshes around noisily as he pulls it away.*

Matt: Any interest in hearing my theory?

DeSean: I think we just broke our record for longest conversation.

Matt: I'm taking that as a yes. What do the great teams have in common? The Hart Foundation. Demolition. Road Warriors. Brain Busters. Rockers. All of the great ones. What do they all have in common?

DeSean: I am not wearing matching tights with you.

*Matt breaks his lock on the skyline and looks at DeSean with a confused look.*

Matt: What? I'm the retarded one? Trust, man. I was talking about trust. Friggen space cadet.

*Matt goes back to ignoring DeSean and looking at the skies. DeSean, having had enough of this, marches over to Matt stand face to chin with him.*

DeSean: Look at me! I'm sick of this. We don't mesh. I get it. I'll beat these guys myself. I just need someone standing on that apron so I can walk away with the belts when I'm done.

Matt: Hah. You couldn't even beat one of them.

*Matt goes to take another swig, but DeSean smacks the bottle out of his hand. The glass breaks upon impact with the sidewalk. Matt and DeSean break too.*

Matt: See? We're going to lose. The bell is going to ring, there's going to be some miscommunication in the match, we're going to punch each other in the mouth, and then hand them the titles. That's what's going to happen if the match started right now. Do you think you're suddenly going to like me tomorrow? A good nights sleep and we'll have common ground? Cause I sure won't. I'll wake up tomorrow, look at my list of people that make me sick, and highlight your name. I might even put some little stars around it. I don't like you. I don't want to be around you. Why? Cause I don't trust you. Now you might not be man enough to ask me for a title shot, but at least be man enough to say you hate me.

DeSean: More than you know.

Matt: That's the thing! I need to know. We need to know how deep this goes. I have to know that you want a title more than you want to hate me.

DeSean: So what do we do? Buy a scale? Write essays? Chit chat over tea? This doesn't work. Not for us.

Matt: I can think of one way. We go point - counterpoint.

DeSean: You want to debate this?

Matt: A lot less civilized than that. We take turns. I give a reason I hate you. Then I punch you in the face. Then you go. Back and forth till we're eitherunconscious, or till we run out of reasons to take a swing.

DeSean: Why do you get to go first?

Matt: You can go first! I was just explaining how it would go. So are you game or what?

DeSean: I get to punch you. Of course I'm game. We doing this here?

Matt: There's an alley about half a block down. We do it here, we'll get arrested after the first turn.

*Matt and DeSean start walking immediately, both eager to get this started, unsure if either of them want it to end. The crunch of glass under their feet marks their departure towards the alley. Matt starts shaking his head, loosening his jaw. DeSean, for his part, is rolling his right arm to get the blood flowing. Their eyes go dull and steely as they round the corner and into the trash filled alley. Matt stops, and DeSean keeps going a few steps before turning around. Face to face, eye to eye, the would be champions stand.*

Matt: Let me have it.

DeSean: You think you're some kind of moral compass for everyone.

*DeSean takes a swing, connecting solidly with the side of Matt's eye. Matt half spins and catches himself on the wall. He grunts to push back the pain, and turns back to DeSean.*

Matt: You think you deserve things when you've clearly failed to earn them.

*Matt rears back and lands a punch flush with DeSean's nose. DeSean grabs his face and jogs a few steps away, as if he's trying to let momentum release some of the impact. The two go back and forth several more times, their "reasons" getting louder and louder. The shots begin to take a larger toll, as they start spilling into trashcans and crates, making quite the racket. Meanwhile...*

****************************************

*Freya tosses and turns in her bed, grabbing another pillow to sandwich her head between. The noise outside her window had steadily grown, pushing back sleeps embrace harsher every time. She eventually shoots up sitting and tosses her pillows to the foot of the bed. Flinging the blankets back, she grabs her coat and angrily marches out the door, down towards the lobby. She isn't the type to call the police on account of a drunken brawl outside her window. It's a situation she can take care of quicker and easier. The elevator chimes and Freya steps in, Hawthorne's door opening just as the doors slide shut.*

Hawthorne: Freya?

****************************************


DeSean: You think you're too good for Infinity!

*DeSean gets a couple step running start and tosses all his weight behind a battered right hand. It connects with the side Matt's jaw, sending him reeling back into a pile of garbage. DeSean spills to the floor, both men breathing heavy and straining to see straight. Their faces arebeginning to swell, lacerations dotting their head and hands. With both men temporarily laid out, Freya steps into the alley, still unknowing that the drunken brawl that kept her awake is being caused by her opponents. DeSean grabs a chain hanging from a dumpster and tries to pull himself up, all the while Matt is trying to swim through trash bags to get his feet under him. With the steadiness of a newborn calf, Matt stands up still half blind. Neither of them see Freya coming up behind them. She puts a hand of Matt's shoulder.*

Freya: Hey you two. Go home. Sleep it off.

*Matt, not comprehending that it's not DeSean talking, yells.*

Matt: You never have the guts to finish anything hard!

*Matt pivots on one foot and swings, connecting squarely on Freya's jaw with an uppercut. Freya falls back, landing on her shoulders and neck. Dazed, she tries to roll over onto all fours. It's then that Matt realizes he hadn't hit DeSean, seeing as how DeSean was leaning on the dumpster looking at him and Freya. Before Matt can utter an apology and make his way to Freya, DeSean smiles.*

DeSean: What do you know. It all worked. Glad you're starting to see things my way.

*DeSean gets a running start and soccer kicks Freya across the face, sending her spinning onto her back again. Matt runs toward them as DeSean rears back for another kick, but gets tackled by Matt before he can connect. The two wrestle to the ground, both tripping over Freya. To someone just joining the fray, it's a confusing scene of what happened. But not for Hawthorne. All it took was the sight of blood dribbling out of the corner of Freya's mouth for him to pick a side.*

Hawthorne: I thought you were smarter than this, Matt.

Matt: Cap! Steve! It's not what it looks like. Let me explain!

DeSean: Take one step closer, and we'll do the same to you that we did to her.

*Matt looks at DeSean incredulously. He almost thought he saw DeSean smile beneath the swelling of his face. He's sure it went away when Hawthorne took one step closer.*

Freya slowly picked herself. She stumbled slightly as her foot slipped on something in the alley, but Hawthorne steadied her. She wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth and looked at it, the glistening crimson smeared across her fingers.

"Bad idea boys."

"Really? What are you going to do?" DeSean sounded cocky, like he was still after a fight.

Freya lunged at him, feigning a punch before kicking him in the gut. DeSean came back at her with an uppercut, but Freya hopped out of reach easily. They danced, Freya dodging and ducking DeSean's blows, landing her own with ease.

Strikmore stepped forward intending to pull Freya away from DeSean. There was no love lost between himself and his partner, but DeSean still needed to be in decent shape for their match.

"Hey, Freya, leave him." He almost grabbed her arm before he was pulled back himself.

"Don't touch her." Hawthorne's voice was low.

"Come on, Cap..."

"And don't call me that."

Strikmore took a deep breath. He wasn't drunk, but the beer and knocks to the head made his thoughts fuzzy.

"Look, Steve, it was an accident."

"It didn't look like an accident to me."

"No...no..." he shook his head. "I didn't mean to hit her. DeSean just took advantage. We were playing a game."

There was a crash as DeSean fell into some trash cans and then silence.

"A game?" Freya asked, dusting herself down. "I like games. What sort of game was it?" She walked towards Strikmore. Her coat had come off during her fight with DeSean, so now she was just in shorts and a small top, the visible skin pale but glistening with sweat.

"I...uh..." Strikmore glanced to where DeSean was still lying, "...it was a team-building thing. We say why we hate each other and then hit the other guy in the face."

"Sounds healthy," Hawthorne remarked. He'd moved slightly towards the entrance of the alleyway now.

"Well I guess it's my turn then," Freya grinned before her first shot towards Strikmore's face with blinding speed. "You betrayed Stephen."

Strikmore reeled from the blow, the effects of his brawl with DeSean having taken their toll. Gingerly he touched a finger to his swollen lip that the girl had just split. "Heh...I guess I deserved that..."

"Your turn." Freya held out her arms, smiling.

"Uh...no. I can't."

Freya's eyes narrowed. "Fine." She hit him again. "You're a chauvinist pig too." As he doubled over, she went for his ribs too. "You have Highone's belt even though I've beaten that jerk half a dozen times." She caught him on the cheek with her left fist. "You threw your lot in with Infinity without thinking of the people you discarded in the process." She threw another fist in his direction, but this time he caught it.

"Okay...my turn then..." he gasped. "You're not a real wrestler, you think this job is just some kind of game."

Smack!

"Your New Hellfire Club think they're too good for the rest of us."

Thwack!

"None of you put the work into promotion that the rest of us are expected to."

Kapow!

There was a cough and a choking laugh behind them suddenly. "With good reason..." Freya and Strikmore looked to where DeSean was now picking himself up from the garbage. "Didn't you hear about what happened in Montreal?"

"Shut up," Freya and Matt both said in unison. DeSean crouched down onto his haunches, leaning his back against the wall for support. He gently touched his nose to see if it was broken. "I heard you've been banned from picking up a microphone every again..."

Freya moved forward to silence her grinning opponent, but the return of her partner interrupted her violent intentions.

"We're going." Hawthorne had come back down the alley now the fighting seemed to have stopped. He shrugged off his trench coat and put it on Frey's shoulders. "Sort your partner out," he said coldly to Strikmore, "we'll see you at Havoc." Without a backward glance he steered the still-bristling Freya away.

**

"So what was that shit?" Hawthorne said, demonstrating that he had indeed begun to absorb some of the 21st Century vernacular, as they neared the hotel's entrance.

"What was what shit?" Freya asked.

"All that in the alley. Was that some...some...werewolf thing?"

Freya stopped and looked at him. "You don't get it do you?"

"Get what?"

"Stephen, it's all a werewolf thing. When I sleep, when I eat, when we wrestle or play poker. All the time. I don't stop being a werewolf. I thought you knew that."

"Maybe if you told me more I would."

"Maybe if you were more in this century I could."

"I don't need this shit." Hawthorne started to walk away.

"What shit?"

He stopped and turned to her, hands on his hips. "This; the arguing. I thought we were past that."

"Maybe I got tired of apologising for what I am."

"Well then, maybe you should go back to your own kind...or whatever..." As soon as the words left his lips he wanted to take them back.

Freya looked at him. There were tears in her eyes. "I can't."

She went to turn back the way they'd come, but Hawthorne grabbed her wrist before she could go anywhere.

"Freya? What's going on?"

She sighed. "Remember when my mother was trying to get hold of me when we were in England?" Hawthorne nodded. "She rang again the other day. I'm no longer...Gar'leth..."

"Gar'leth? What the hell does that mean?"

"It's the name of my clan. Since I'm now apparently hanging out with humans and Shadow Slayers, they've decided I'm no longer one of them. I don't have a ‘kind' anymore." She looked forlorn, but there was a grim acceptance in her eyes.

"Hey," he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, "you still have the NHFC."

Freya made a non-committal noise in response.

"Okay, well there's still me at least."

"I know." She gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. "I'm going for a walk. I want to clear my head." She took of his coat and handed it back to him.

"You're not walking like that are you?" he asked, "People will think you're...a..."

"No, silly, I'll change around the corner."

"But you don't have any other...oh..."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

He smiled. "Take care, kid."

Freya nodded before turning and walking away.

**

Matt walked to the Starbucks. He wasn't normally a fan, but he'd spent most of the night awake, first getting DeSean back to his room and then putting ice on his bruises to make the swelling go down. On top of all that he was slightly hungover.

"Hey, Hawkeye." Freya was sat at a table alone, attempting to wrap a box.

"Hey..." he replied slowly.

"Do you know anything about wrapping? I'm just making a mess here."

"I don't think I'll be much help."

"Do you want to grab us some coffees then?" Freya chucked a couple of bills in his direction.

When Strikmore got back with the coffee, Freya had finished with the box. "I hope you didn't mind me calling you ‘Hawkeye'. I saw it on the box you gave Stephen and there could have been a dozen ‘Matt's in here."

"No. How's Hawthorne?"

"He's okay." She nudged the box. "We had a bit of an argument last night so I got him something to make up for it. How are you feeling anyway?" She looked critically at the livid bruises on Matt's face.

"Been better." He lifted a bandaged hand. "I think you broke my hand. What is your jaw made of?"

"Adamantium." She grinned over her coffee. "I'm sorry about last night."

"No problem, Lady Deathstrike."

"Actually I was thinking of Wolverine."

He laughed. "Anyway, am I going to get a peace offering too?"

"You're drinking it."

"Oh." He put down the oversized mug.

"You're not going to accept my apology?"

"Depends. Did you mean what you said?"

"Which bit?"

"All of it."

Freya shrugged. "Well, I don't really think you're a chauvinist pig."

"Thanks."

"And it would have been nice if I'd been given a shot at the TC Belt, but I had the Bleeder, if only for a while."

"So last night...?"

"Is something I'm sorry about, yes."

Strikmore smiled ruefully. "So you want me to forget everything and start again?"

"No...I'd like you to just think about forgiving me. That's all."

"Okay. I'll think about it." He sipped his coffee.

"I think we're going to need another mug." Freya got up to go to the counter.

"Why?" he asked.

Freya nodded to the door where DeSean was just entering.

DeSean woke up from his sleep, on eye opened as the other was still slightly swollen, head still throbbing; he got out of his bed and slowly walked towards the bathroom. The night still fresh in his mind wondering why he even agreed to do that with the guy he would be teaming with. As he entered the bathroom, he turned on the lights and checked himself out in the mirror. His right eye was slightly swelled; there was dry blood around his mouth and nose. His busted lip was starting to heal itself but there was just an overall soreness in his body.

"This is what I've become" he thought to himself.

He ran some water inside the sink, grabbing a bath cloth he wet it and wiped his face off, wiping away the dried blood, wiping away the dirt from the trash and alley and wiping away the embarrassment of fighting in an alley late in the night. He was better than that and Strikmore was better than that. They're little game did nothing but gave Freya and Hawthorne a little more reason to beat them as if having the tag titles wasn't enough. He sighed and walked out the bathroom, eyeing the nearly melted ice pack that sat on his bed he picked it up and refilled it with more ice. Lying back on his bed, DeSean thought about the match some more. He thought Matt was seeing things his way but it was clear to him that wasn't going to happen. How were they going to co exist? They didn't get along, they didn't like each other and they had nothing in common. It didn't matter how individually talented they were, they weren't going to beat a team like Freya and Hawthorne. A long time ago when DeSean was still training as a wrestler that sometimes in order to make in the wrestling business you have to eat a little bit of crow, accept it and move on. Something had to give in order for him and Matt to succeed something had to give. He stood from his bed and walked out of the room to make things right.
....................................

DeSean walked down the streets of Montreal looking for a Starbucks, that's where he was told Matt would be at. They say there's a Starbucks on every corner and that wasn't a lie as DeSean turned that first corner there stood before him the famed coffee shop, where a cup of coffee was 6 bucks. He stood outside the shop and looked inside the window; he shook his head as he saw Freya and Strikmore talking. He felt like turning around but something forced him to move on. He opened the door, ignoring the stares he got from some people who noticed the bruises on his face. It didn't matter to him how many bruises had received from last night because his ego bruised even more. He walked towards the table where Freya and Matt sat; who were both carrying on with a conversation, DeSean could tell that they both knew he was there.

Matt: DeSean we saw you walk inside

DeSean: Yea I know

DeSean grabbed a chair and sat it next to their booth, Freya handed him a mug that was full of coffee. DeSean accepted it and sat on the table but didn't drink it.

Freya: Hey look, about last night I.....

DeSean: You're not so don't tell me you are I hate bullshitters so don't bullshit me. Matt we have to talk

Matt: Fine about what?

DeSean: About our match

Freya: Right I can take the hint, I'm gone.

Freya left the booth and the two men alone, DeSean moved over in her spot now sitting across from Matt, they both sat looking the other in the eye.

Matt: So what's up?

DeSean: I'll make this quick, no bullshitting around anymore. Look all of my life I've been to proud to ask for help and because of that I've give myself unneeded stress and anxiety at a young age. I sucked in math, I was terrible at every math you can think of and I never asked for help, I was always on the border between a D and a F. Every time after our EOC's I would be fucking worried about whether or not I passed. Crying thinking I failed until my report comes in mail and says I have a D and I passed, or I have a C in Algebra 2 or I passed Geometry.

Matt: OK?

DeSean: My point is that I could have saved myself the stress and anxiety if I just asked for help from my teachers or if I just got a tutor but I never did, just too damn stubborn. Matt we don't get along, you don't like me, I don't like you but I respect you. I respect the fact that you are the hottest damn wrestler on this roster. That's why I picked you, there's no hidden agenda, I want those tag titles and if I turn on you I get shit. I'm at the end of my rope, Matt Strikmore....I.....I need your help. I can't do this alone, I've tried I got lucky once (referring to he and PD's win against the MVC) but I've been really successful since. We're both competitors we needed a common ground and that's it, that's all we need. We're both we want to win if we can bring that together in our match we'll have a damn good chance of winning. I'm asking you to be my partner that's all; we don't have to be friends afterward just partners.

Matt remained quiet the whole time; he watched DeSean's eyes the whole time as he spoke. DeSean looked like a man on the end of his rope; he also looked tired and just plain hurt but that more than likely had something to do with the fight last night. Matt nodded his head in the positive direction indicating that he understood.

Matt: That's fine with me....partner.

DeSean breathed a sigh of relief and outstretched his hand for a shake, Matt shook his hand. Both of their grips were tight and the shake was long full of dislike but also filled with respect. The real question was now, how are two men who are teaming together for the first time and aren't friends are going to beat two partners who are friends and have been teaming for a while that thought went into both of their minds but they were going to have to make it work for the sake of his career DeSean was going to have to make it work.