We’re in a holding pattern. Jet Somers attempted to assuage his friend’s concerns by granting her a chance to take the rematch against Tony away from me. I welcomed this, it makes for a better show, after all. Lucy is a worthy opponent, perhaps even my equal. It doesn’t matter if I’ve defeated her more often; if it was all about wins for me, there’d be nothing setting me apart from most of the roster.
Now that we’ve confounded the Creative Director, we can wait with patient excitement while he figures out how to untangle this. I hope the anticipation lasts…
—
There’s a rarely spoken of phenomenon in the ancient forests of North America. For those who wander off the marked trails of national parks, delve into imagined shortcuts between lonely interstates, or explore beyond the edges of small towns, the occurrence is unsettling in a way that can’t satisfactorily be explained.
Occasionally, without warning, these wannabe pathfinders will happen upon a feature in the wilderness that couldn’t be more out of place.
They come in every design, made of iron, stone, or wood. Beginning at random, they climb to nothing and nowhere. At least, that’s how the travelers brave enough to climb remember it. Those who care for the explorers are tasked with breaking the news that they’ve been missing for hours, or even days, for which the discoverer has no perception.
—
Kalispell, Montana
After failing to bar Lucy Wylde’s entry into the World Championship match at Battleground, Montague has returned to ferreting around the endless warrens beyond the Underlook. He’s not sure precisely for what he’s questing, only that something below is calling to him.
Following his chalk marks from his last trek, Montague had expected to be selecting another elevator from the bank. He’s had a week to research the names on the plastic placards, and now knows their significance. Ahead of time, he’d set his mind on York, but the decision flies from his mind when, instead of the ten sliding doors, he’s greeted by an escalator rising into the darkness above.
The half-moon table and dusty, polyester fern are still there, but otherwise this might as well be an entirely different hallway. On the wall above the escalator is a large symbol.
Shrugging, Montague steps on the ascending treads and places a hand on the belt that serves as a handrail.
It seems like hours go by as he leaves the dim light of the lobby behind and enters the darkness. Soon, however, he’s blinking against the slowly setting sun in what will turn out to be the Flathead National Forest.
—
—--
It’s a misty afternoon at Ashley Lake, Montana as a low cloud hangs over the ground like a shroud. Zane stands on his dock with a steaming drink in hand and his two massive German Shepherds flanking him. Small puffs of air come from all three as he watches the sunrise and his furry guardians watch him. He takes a sip from his mug and looks out over the water. A few lone crickets remain to greet him into the new day.
“Come on, boys,” he says, causing his Shepherds to perk up and look at him. “It looks like it’s going to be a good day for a walk to the lake.”
Both dogs happily wag their tails, and then turn and follow their human into the house.
Later, on the far side of the mountain:
Zane plants his foot on the rocky mountainside with a crunch and plants his hand-carved walking stick into the ground. Tiberius lopes up ahead of him while Vespasian follows close behind. Both animals constantly and alertly mind their surroundings, looking for threats. Zane looks up and smiles in the direction of the sun, which is shrouded by the thick tree canopy, then drops his gaze to the rocky incline that spreads out before them and resumes moving. Tiberius gives his human an inquisitive head turn, then also continues when Zane begins to advance up the side of the mountain again.
“It seems almost like a weird metaphor that I’m climbing a mountain,” He says to himself.
He turns and points down the mountain to where a deeply rutted dirt road is barely visible through the trees.
“Especially when I could just walk up the road.”
He turns and smiles in amusement.
“Granted, I’ve never really been known for doing things the easy way in my career,” He continues. “That’s never been more glaring than it is now.”
He pauses as Tiberius alerts ahead of him. He pulls a pair of binoculars from his bag and scans the upside of the hill. Seeing nothing, he puts them back and looks down at the still altered Shepherd, who stands with his ears perked and his tail straight out behind him. A low growl emanates from behind him.
“I hear you, Vespasian,” He answers. “Keep alert, boy.”
Vespasian replies with a single short, low bark. The three continue their journey up the mountain as the birds chirp around them.
“People tell me that I need to let my suspension go and move on,” Zane explains. “They continually tell me that I’m a whiner who’s better than the way I’m behaving right now.”
He pauses and laughs to himself.
“The funny thing about that is that the ‘goalpost’ that those judgments sit on, sit on a moving sidewalk that continues to speed up so that I can never reach whatever their amorphous ‘standard’ is.” He lifts the walking stick and plants it in another chunk of rough ground, using it to push him up and over a rock.
“The funny thing is that only one of those people really knows me at all,” Zane continues. “Rumbles are that Lucy just wants to see me reach my ‘potential’ again, whatever she thinks that means. She tells me that but never really explains what it means. I’m not angry at her for that, and I wish her the best in her quest for the World Championship, but I really wish she’d spare me the lectures if it’s going to be nothing by platitudes.”
He pulls up a bottle and takes a quick drink, then puts it back on his belt.
“She’s not the problem though”, He continues. “She’s a symptom of it. The larger problem that has made itself very apparent is what I continue to get derided for. If the two year nothing suspension doesn’t make it obvious, and it really should, let’s look back on what’s happened to me since I’ve returned.”
Tiberius whines slightly but his tail relaxes.
“My first match is against some mouthy rookie,” A sneer plants itself on his face. “Sure, I sent the kid packing, but the recordbook records it as an ‘L’ by disqualification because an inexperienced Referee mistook what I did as a threat to her. We’ve talked about it since, but it seems fairly obvious to me that the call came from backstage to put the screws to me in my return so they could try to turn that worthless little prick into something.”
He pauses and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds before he exhales slowly.
“They have me lose to the current World Champion sometime soon after that to help get him over,” He slaps his hands together with exaggerated quickness, drawing curious looks from his dogs. “I still think that count was a bit quick and that I kicked out in time. Of course if someone more popular with management had made that complaint, they’d have done something about it.”
“But we all know that they want to turn me into the wealthiest enhancement talent in UGWC history, so…”
Both Shepherds let out long growls that sound like both are trying to literally say something. Zane looks at both of them as the two walk out in front of him towards the crest of the mountain.
“People don’t laugh at dogs when they act with caution and give their warnings,” He explains. “At least smart people don’t. I think it would be a bit stupid to call everyone around me ‘stupid’ when they ignored UGWC’s greatest act of disrespect toward me so far.”
He stops at the top of the mountain and looks out across the other side with his binoculars again. This time he visibly tenses.
“It appears that we have a visitor…” He growls, causing his dogs to do the same. “We’ll have to see what that’s about.”
He begins his walk down the mountain as both dogs walk slightly ahead of him. As he speaks, the anger clearly grows in his voice.
“UGWC decided to put ‘The Engine of Chaos’ into the Hall of Fame before ‘The Syndicate’.” He growls through clenched teeth. “Not only that, but they claimed that no one came close to touching ‘The Engine’ in regard to the importance of what a wrestling stable is.”
He pulls the walking stick up as his hand turns white around the head of it.
“Are you fucking serious?” He snarls. “I take nothing away from the talent in ‘The Engine’ and I mean no disrespect to any of them when I say this…”
“The Engine’ didn’t hold a fucking candle to ‘The Syndicate’.”
He drives the end of the walking stick into the ground with such force that the stick momentarily bends under the stress.
“We set the standard by which all other stables in UGWC should have been and should continue to be measured. We turned this company on its head for over a year. We held every championship at the time. We put everyone in their place and set the rules. WE were the ONLY standard for a stable that should EVER matter in UGWC.”
He rears back and drives a rock off of the mountainside, sending it sailing.
“We both know they did what they did with ‘The Engine’ in order to insult me and minimize my accomplishments.” Zane declares angrily. “The company won’t even admit that I was one of the people who conceived of the idea, insisting instead that Eden was the creator of our group.”
He takes a few more steps and pulls out the water again, chugging, but not finishing it.
“Since then I’ve almost lost to Konrad Raab,” He explains with a shake of his head. “Sure, I beat him as I should’ve, but that match was a lot harder than it should’ve been, and while Konrad is a good guy and an experienced wrestler, let’s be serious…”
“He’s never been on my level,” He states bluntly, frowning. “And he never will be.”
He turns and walks down the mountain sideways for a few steps, then straightens up and pulls his binoculars out again. What he sees also draws a bit of a frown, or at least an expression that’s a mixture of curiosity and concern.
“Then they shove him through to the World Championship match at ‘Outlast’ while pushing everyone on my team, the team that represents the ‘Legacy’ of this company aside like we’re trash.” He pauses. “That was another slap in the face.”
He breaks through the trees onto the road. His cabin can barely be seen through it, but it’s clear that something odd is going on. Tiberius and Vespasian are both alert, but neither seems agitated or concerned. They seem curious more than anything else. Zane observes this with a curious look, although there’s still fury burning in his eyes.
“When you get down to it, what happened at ‘Outlast’ is representative of this company’s view of its past,” He explains irritably. “They’re trying to push those of us who built this company from the ground up aside so they can replace us with the new hot thing. This isn’t entirely new, the entire “Cool Kids” run was nothing more than that, and the group as a whole showed their loyalty and their thanks for that by leaving as soon as they didn’t get everything they wanted.”
He pulls up his water can and takes another pull from it. The woods are oddly calm around him, with no birds chirping or signs of other animals. All that can be heard are the distant sounds of motorboats and the occasional extremely faint sound of human laughter coming from the water.
“The company further showed me how little respect they have for me and for the loyalty I’ve shown by making sure that when Donovan was on his ‘World Champion Conquering’ tour that I never got a shot at him. The newly returned Rogan MacLean gets two shots in a row, but I’m told to sit down, shut up and accept the scraps they throw at me.”
He pauses. “I’m not angry at Rogan for this. I like and respect Rogan, which I can’t say about many in this company. He absolutely should’ve taken both of those opportunities, but it really does look funny that I was never given a shot at Donovan when that match would’ve been money and could’ve main evented a pay per view. How quickly and conveniently forgot that there’s one former World Champion in this company who Donovan has never beaten for the World Championship in spite of multiple attempts.”
“Me.”
“But I’m called ‘crazy’ and ‘paranoid’ when I call it a conspiracy by management that they went and continue to go out of their way to keep that match from happening.” He laughs derisively. “Hell, even after putting the Conquest Championship on me they made sure that I’d lose to someone who’d never beaten me before. That was meant to humiliate me because in spite of how I feel about Dave Rydell, he’s seen as the guy who can ‘never get it done’.”
He reaches the lower road which crosses in front of his cabin. Both dogs begin to wag their tails and whine. Zane looks at this, genuinely confused by it.
“There’s no one here that you know, boys,” He replies to them. “Why’re you acting like it’s a friend?”
Then he notices it.
The odd staircase from apparently nowhere.
“What the hell?”
—
The straight, wooden staircase Monty peers up at might as well have endured as whatever dwelling it used to service rotted away and was reclaimed by nature. The trees and forest carpet come right up to within a few inches of the out of place structure and stop at an even border of morel mushrooms all the way around it. Other than some weathering, fading, and water stains from being exposed, the steps look sturdy enough, and there’s not so much as an errant branch laying on them.
The Doctor-Professor approaches, reflexively reaching for a handrail where one might have once existed, but is frozen in place by the sound of a pair of low growls behind him. Withdrawing, he turns cautiously to see Zane Scott glaring suspiciously at him from between two tall spruce pines.
There’s a tense moment as Monty briefly locks eyes with The Professional. Instead of acknowledging him, however, Montague takes two steps to his left and kneels down, extending a hand in friendship. To Zane’s surprise, the German shepherds bound over to sniff at the Showman’s fingers before jostling one another to lick him in greeting.
It doesn’t escape his notice that his dogs are giving the staircase a wide berth, and Zane searches his memory for a recollection of the bizarrely-located structure. Filing it away for later reflection, he turns back to where the Astro Creep is getting very friendly with his canines and clears his throat before giving a command for them to return to his side. They obey without hesitation, but each gives a low whine from the base of their throats as they pass by the ring of mushrooms without looking at or disturbing them.
Zane finally greets him curiously.
Zane: Showman. To what do I owe the…pleasure? Are you here for a legitimate reason, or have you decided it’d be fun to insult me to my face on my own property?”
Montague: As amusing as it is to trade barbs with you, I’m not actually here to confront you. I’m not even sure where ‘here’ is, if I’m being honest, but I’ve got better things to do than harangue you.
With that dismissal, Montague turns and approaches the mysterious staircase again. He raises his left foot, but before it can come down on the riser, the dogs begin to growl again. They crouch and pace anxiously, not wanting to break their obedient bond with their human, but clearly not excited to watch this friendly stranger climb those steps.
Zane’s concern for his animals’ discomfort overcomes his curiosity and, let’s face it, disregard for the Showman’s safety, and with a sigh he calls out.
Zane: Wait…
It’s almost as if Montague was waiting for someone to stop him from following through with the course of action he is being compelled to take. He turns abruptly and feigns annoyance at the interruption.
Montague: Yes?
After a moment deliberating how to intervene without belying worry, Zane gestures down at his perturbed dogs. Appealing to the Showman’s respect for animals, he gives a warning.
Zane: My boys don’t think you should go there. I trust their judgment.
After beginning a protest, Montague pauses and watches their behavior, then sighs and nods. He turns back to narrow his eyes at the staircase, then shakes his head.
Montague: Then perhaps this is not the path. Another wasted journey.
Raising an eyebrow, Zane makes an effort to put aside his dislike of the man before him and, remembering they’ve been earmarked as partners against the current Cooperative Champions, decides to make the most of this chance meeting. Far be it from him to betray his reputation for being an effective partner, no matter the circumstances. Rubbing it in the face of the Creative Director would make it worth it.
Zane: I suppose it doesn’t have to be a waste. We should clear the air, if only temporarily, so that we might escape Synergy without looking like a couple of petulant clods.
Montague chews on the decision for a moment, before finally nodding and striding over to follow Zane out of the forest. Tiberius drops back a step, excited to have a chance to keep pace with the Showman, and throws a tongue-lolling glance up at him every few seconds.
—
Rail Line Tavern - Marion, Montana
The tavern Zane brought them to is dog-friendly, and they sit below the high-top table alert as the two men quietly sip their drinks and stubbornly avoid looking at one another. The former triple-crown champion attempts to jump-start the conversation.
Zane: So… Baltimore Elite?
Montague snorts.
Montague: That’s kind of like saying ‘Dirtbag Aristocracy’ isn’t it?
Zane looks bemused in spite of himself.
Zane: I would have thought Mobtown was just the sort of place your type liked to recruit.
The Doctor-Professor fixes Zane with a dagger-stare for the first time since they entered the pub.
Montague: My type? You mean, not high societies?
Putting two hands up, palm out, Zane continues to attempt to diffuse the animosity still apparent between them. Truth be told, though, his patience is wearing thin.
Zane: The type you say you champion, is all I meant. I don't exactly come from money.
Montague relaxes and looks away again, scanning the small crowd..
Montague: Fair enough, you’re not wrong. I just find the wordplay in their team name amusing.
He shrugs, growing more disinterested and bored by the minute.
Zane: Look, if you’re not interested in discussing the upcoming match, I’m just as happy making do with whatever happens. I don’t have to waste my time here. There’s not really an outcome that helps me in any way.
Montague: I can agree with that at least. This is a distraction, at best. Ken Davison and Kyra Johnson bore me. I’d much rather deal with her sister, and I’d much rather have Tempest or Jacky in my corner.
Zane can’t argue with that logic.
Zane: It’s typical of Management to put two people who don’t get along well against two of their champions. It's baked in protection for them. It continues a long UGWC tradition of protecting the unworthy.
Montague: The Astro Creeps and Tragedia dell'Arte have spent almost a year becoming the feature presentation in UGWC. All three of us draw the kinds of crowds that give us carte blanche to handpick our co-stars. Meanwhile, Baltimore Elite have poisoned the well of the Cooperative Division. I’m not very interested in the black hole they’re collapsing into unless I can turn it into something captivating. I might as well be on stage with cardboard cutouts for all the charisma they bring to the table.
Zane: I… actually know exactly what you mean. They draw attention to the Cooperative Championships only by their consistently glaring absence from even pretending to give a shit about them. They early see them as shiny baubles that they can flash in other places, all while ignoring them here. As a former multi-time CoOp Champion, it disgusts me. I don't have to like you to beat their asses for that disrespect.
Montague: Well, I recommend we do what we’re contractually obligated to do and move on as quickly as possible. In fact–
He never gets to finish. One of the log walls of the tavern breaks apart suddenly in suspiciously even lines, as if they were pre-cut. The Dark Destroyer crashes through, ass over teakettle, managing to pitch headfirst into three different tables before coming to rest upside down over the jukebox. It kicks to life with Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.”
From outside, a powerful voice echoes loud enough to shake the kitschy decorations around the bar.
Captain 80s: AHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!!!
Montague watches with disbelief as the giant of a man strides through the hole he just created with the body of The Dark Destroyer. Zane facepalms with exasperation.
Captain 80s: SORRY GOOSE, BUT IT’S TIME TO BUZZ THE TOWER!! YEAAAAH!!
Cap charges toward the Dark Destroyer, grabbing him with two meaty mitts, then spinning around to fling him into the air.
Captain 80s: YOU KNOW THE LAW!!! TWO MEN ENTER, ONE MAN LEAVES!!!
The Dark Destroyer damn near floats up toward a balcony above the bar, far more smoothly than the Captain threw him. That is, until he becomes tangled in the wires somehow and winds up dangling from one ankle with his cape over his face.
Director: Cut!! We’re going to have to do that one again!
As a film crew spills through the broken wall, Montague and