012 [WWH]

Fit Legit Gym was deserted at this time of night. He'd taken out a line of credit just so he could become part-owner, just so he could ensure silence and some level of privacy. Throwing money at problems was new but lately it had started to feel like a necessity. He'd been so fixated on making a comeback, on finding the right fit of a new place where he could lace his boots that he'd thrown everything into it. With the ink on his new signing barely dry, the pressure was on. There was no paranoia, no nightmares, no cold sweats or insomniac fits in the middle of the night. He actually felt firmly in control, like this time was going to be the one that would pan out the way he'd always dreamed. Max Ironside actually felt like he could finally embrace the title of professional wrestler. Sure, he hadn't actually debuted yet, but it was looming on the horizon.

All he could hear was the rush of air-conditioning and blood pounding in his head but he knew it was windy outside, the sub-zero temperature threatening snow by the weekend. He wasn't worried about it. Virginia was close enough that he could drive if it came down to that, if the flights were cancelled. Without any windows to distract, he had no idea if it was night or day and that made every rep possible. His sleeveless Max Headroom tee was soaked, sweat spattering on the floor around him.

Breathe in. Steel and hold. Breathe out and push. Hold. Hold. Ignore the shaking. Hold. And release. Do it again. Again. Faster this time.

Kasey Summers watched him from across the room, chewing on the edge of her thumbnail as he forced his arms straight despite the weight he was working against. She saw the furrow between his brows, the pinched crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, and the turned-down corners of his mouth. She watched his bad hand slip on the bar, watched the lifting strap keep him from dropping it. She knew he was in pain and that brought back some of the worst kind of memories.

She shifted her weight, opening her mouth to speak but he cut her off as though he somehow sensed both her presence and what she was about to say.

"You aren't supposed to be here."

"I know," she whispered, tucking her red hair behind her ears as she shuffled a little closer.

Max let the bar settle back into its cradle, closing his eyes and counting to ten. He could still hear her breathing, could still smell that clean, wintry air she'd brought in with her. "Go away, Kasey. There's nothing for you here."

She bit her lip, shifting her weight again as if she was torn between doing what he'd asked and some other idiotic impulse.

"What's he done this time?" The words came out mildly enough, but she tensed, fury in her eyes when she glared at him.

"Nothing!" She hissed, hugging herself. "It's not always about him, you know," the words were the same ones that most abused women said – those sad excuses, variations on a theme. He remembered how broken she'd been when Akragth had disappeared on her, when she'd told the whole world it had been a mutual split. He'd known the truth and it had been like some sad country song, letting her pour her heart out and then watching while she ran off with some long-haired model type she'd met online.

"Of course not. You're living the dream, happy as a clam." The sarcasm was up to eleven, so thick it made him feel slightly sick.

"You want to know why I've come, don't you?" Her voice was husky when she spoke again, still feeling chilled. "I can't really answer that. I don't really..." she sighed, "this was the only place I could think of to come."

"I know you well enough to guess," he replied, shaking his head as he sat up.

"I don't think so." She shivered, shaking her head, "I know you've gone straight-edge and all but-"

"Not a drop," he didn't even sound regretful, "can't have the temptation. The goal to live clean doesn't make the desire magically disappear any more than you can instantly become a better person by coming here and saying you're sorry. That is what you're here for, right?"

"Max," she whispered, back to hugging herself. "I don't wanna be champion anymore. I can't handle their eyes on me, judging me. I need..." she trailed off.

"You need to stop drinking," he replied. "Every problem in your life can be solved that easily, Kase."

"I love him more than anything. I fucked it all up and I just..." she sighed, "you turned on me. The last time I saw you, you looked at me with such loathing that I saw myself in your eyes. I've been seeing that same hideous monster every time I look in the mirror since. I lost my best friend. I lost you. I nearly-"

"You're insane, you know that? You hit me with that restraining order after you shot me down, made me feel like shit in the worst way. And now you're here to turn the screws again-"

"Restraining order?" Kasey frowned, "I don't know what you mean. I'd never... Max... I'd never do that."

Max shook his head and sighed, "listen, Kase. I love you – God help me, I do – but I can't do this. Whatever drama you've got brewing, I can't get involved. I'm trying my damndest," his voice faltered over the near-epithet, "to rebuild my own life, my career."

"YOU BASTARD!" She screeched like a hellcat and launched herself at him, spearing him off the weight bench. They both crashed to the floor, Max's head cracking against the mirrored wall hard enough to spiderweb the glass. "HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!" Her nails raked across his face, narrowly missing his eyes as he tried to get out from under her, seeing stars. "Do you know who I am?" Her voice was cold and deadly as she spat the words in his face, "I'm the goddamned Great Lakes Champion! I AM ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT WOMEN IN PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING!" Spittle rained down on him as he flinched with every syllable.

"Please..." his voice trailed off into silence.

"Shut up!" She screamed, kicking him hard in the ribs. "Just shut the fuck up!"

Max nodded, closing his eyes as he curled up around the impact. His ribs might be broken; he could smell blood, and knew it was his own. "I forgive you," he whispered.

She moved off him, brushing glass from her pants. "Fuck you, Max. You don't get to play Jesus, you asshole. I've got half a mind to..."

He didn't hear the rest as everything went black. That was probably for the best.



I haven't wrestled since August – unless you count the ten seconds I was part of a gauntlet match in New Orleans. I don't. I didn't break a sweat. I didn't manage any offense whatsoever. If I'm being truly honest, I didn't actually try. When I think about it, I'm more than willing to admit that it was fear holding me back. Too many unknowns. Too many companies that may or may not be watching, judging, finding me lacking. I had buyer's remorse the second I threw my name in.

Don't judge me for that.

Instead, I beg you to go back and watch my rise through the ranks in Defiant.

Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing. Without goals, we are empty shells. We are hollow voids. We are NOTHING. John and Paul taught me that all I need is love. I rejected that fucked up ideal at the age of seven. Dreams smashed into me until I stopped entertaining those silver lining thoughts. I don't remember my dreams anymore. Nightmares fade when I wake up. I scream in my sleep. I know this, because I wake up hoarse, tonsils and tongue feeling swollen. She looks away when I ask her if I kept her up. She can't lie to my face. She never could and that's why I trust her completely.

She tells me I can do this. Piece of cake. I believe it because she sees things in me that nobody ever has and a pep talk is always good, especially from a woman who supports me in everything I do. She is my Queen, always by my side and I want to make her proud. I want to be worthy of someone like her. I want to prove I belong in a prestigious company like this, that I have just as much right to be here as any other able-bodied wrestler.

I'm going to do my best to take the opportunity I've been handed and make it count, even though I don't know the first thing about the partner that's been chosen for me. I could find myself vying for the Tag Team Championships – I could be the one who fills the void left by the departure of two crybabies who took their ball, spit in the faces of the fans who made them and went off to start their own game where they could bend the rules as they see fit. Maybe I'm not qualified to judge, but even a man who's never had a single successful tag team match is better than that nonsense.

I can handle this. I have to. The only alternative is to give up on the wrestling dream, to turn my back on the hard work I've put in. I can't do that. I can't waste time like that.

It wouldn't be right.