[size=1][/size]

(The following took place prior to Centurion losing the XTreme Title)

“Well…at least we know he’s watching.”

We open up inside the luxury cabin of Centurion, with the whole crew sitting in the living room with the television on. They have turned it over to Fox News after receiving word that American president and failed reality television star Donald Trump has posted on a right wing social media website about Centurion’s historic victory at Relentless.

Nellie and Erin are sitting on a couch together in a very relaxed pose, joking about what is taking place on the TV and dismissing it as nothing more than blowhard entertainment. Flanking the couch, on either side, are two chairs occupied by Ruby and Centurion. Ruby is sitting in her chair, leaning over to listen to Nellie and Erin, and is smiling at their conversation. Centurion, meanwhile, is slumped in his chair, with a relatively blank expression on his face.

“I’m honestly surprised he was able to spell “Centurion” correctly.” Erin jokes.

“Oh, I’m sure that was spell checked.” Ruby answers. “He’s probably typed it so many times in anger that it popped up on his predictive text. I think the whole thing is probably predictive text - that’s why he wrote “XFL” instead of “XWF.”

The three laugh again as Nellie looks over at Centurion. She gets a curious look on her face as she sees Centurion not engaging in the jokes. “This doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Centurion takes a deep breath as he sits up a bit in his chair, leaning forward placing his hands on his lap. “Yeah. It does.”

The faces of the other three ladies quickly change, as Nellie mutes the TV. Erin, looking nervously around the room, stands up and walks out. Nellie, meanwhile, tries to calm Centurion’s anxiety. “This isn’t anything new. Trump going on a rant about you - he’s been doing that since your blow up in Vegas. I’d almost take it as a compliment that he still thinks so much about you at this point that he’s willing to go on a middle of the night tirade about you.”

“It’s not just about the post. It’s…” Centurion sighs as he stands up from his chair. “It’s everything. It’s how this entire world is becoming infested and poisoned by this bullshit. Why do you think he put that message out? Huh? Because he “just so happened to be watching”?” Centurion glances over at Nellie and Ruby, neither of whom say anything. “It’s because his friends own the company now! He put it out there to put his fingers in this industry, as well! And it makes you wonder - 24 years of fighting and crawling - was any of it worth it?”

Centurion turns back towards the TV, who have moved on from Trump’s Truth Social post and are now voicing some other horrible opinion, probably about immigrants or something. Ruby goes to stand up, but Nellie stops her, gesturing to her to grant some space to Centurion.

“Is any of this going to even exist in six months?” Centurion continues speaking, and though it is out loud, it is primarily him talking to himself. “Will one of those multibillionaire freaks start tooling around with the archives and” Centurion snaps his fingers “24 years of history, gone? Are we fighting against a tide that can’t be stopped? I thought winning that title was going to make me happier and instead…all I’ve been doing is sitting in fear of the unknown.”

“Nell…can you give your father and I a moment alone?” Ruby asks, looking over at Nellie. At first, Nellie doesn’t know what to do, as she has been Centurion’s go to for counsel on these types of things for years, but Ruby gives her a reassuring glance, which gives Nellie the sign to stand up and leave the room. Ruby, meanwhile, shifts from the chair to the couch. “Come here.” Ruby pats the seat next to her on the couch, which causes Centurion to sit down next to her.

“I don’t talk about this stuff.” Centurion says in a somber, defeated tone. “I don’t want to be the kind of person who whines about himself as the rest of the world burns around him. But this…” Centurion points back to the TV “…it just reminded me of how deep in the shit we’re wading in.”

“You’re bottling all this up, and it’s not healthy.” Ruby says, rubbing Centurion’s back. “And I get it. I know why you’re doing it. But you’re not doing nothing. You’re back out there, you’re fighting, you’re doing things the right way.”

“I just feel like I should be doing…something else.” Centurion says as he shakes his head. “Nellie’s out there organizing protests, gathering community members, and likely putting herself on some sort of government watch list.”

“That’s Nellie’s strong suit.” Ruby is quick to answer. “She’s an organizer. It’s what she does. That’s not you. You hate most people.”

Centurion smiles as he nods his head. “That’s true.”

“You’re a wrestler.” Ruby responds, reassuringly. “You’re a fighter. That is what YOU do.”

“I guess I’m just afraid I’m wasting my time.” Centurion says, shaking his head. “Like none of it matters.” Centurion sighs and sits back in the couch, rubbing his hands through his hair. “I don’t know why I am getting so existential all of a sudden. I sound like a God damn hippy.”

Ruby giggles. “Maybe you are one. Maybe you’re starting to see the world more for what it is, and aren’t sticking your head in the sand as much as you used to. Or maybe you’re becoming a more empathetic person.”

“Heh.” Centurion lets out a slight sound of amusement. “I think that might be the case. And I think I know who to blame for that.” Centurion glances over to Ruby, who flashes a wide smile. The two kiss before Ruby snuggles into Centurion’s arm. “You’ve made me a better person, there’s no doubt about that. Hell, I don’t even know if I’d be alive right now if it wasn’t for you.”

“Oh, you’d be alive.” Ruby responds, patting Centurion on the stomach. “You’d just be drowning in a bathtub of Scotch right now.”

“That still doesn’t sound like that bad of an idea.” Centurion jokes back. Centurion glances back at the TV, which is talking about the upcoming No Kings protests.

“You going to one?” Ruby says as she gestures towards the TV.

Centurion takes the remote and turns off the TV, hoping to clear his mind of the horrible nature of the world. “Nah. I thought about it, but I feel like I would look to…inauthentic. Like I was there simply for selfish promotional reasons, and that’s not what I want. Nellie and Erin are going to the one in Lancaster, though.”

“Damn skippy.” Nellie says as she and Erin walk back into the room holding glasses of wine. “Besides, I need you on your game. You have a wrestling match to win, and I don’t need you being arrested two days before Savage.”

“Who’s to say I’d get arrested?!” Centurion yells out, slightly offended by the statement. The other three all glare over at Centurion, and there is a pause of silence for a few seconds. “…alright, fine, but I don’t want to skip out on going just to have to drive to a Lancaster jail and bail out my daughter and her fiance anyway.”

“Please…” Nellie says, almost laughing at the idea. “I’ve been leading charges through the streets of New York. These hick ass cops don’t scare me for a second.”

———I’m Sorry I Crossed The Line———

“Well, Atty? Tell me the truth. You didn’t have this one on your 2025 Bingo card, did you?”

We open back up inside the study of Centurion’s luxury cabin in the Poconos. There, we see Centurion sitting on a red velvet chair in a silk blue smoking jacket, holding an empty wood pipe. He twirls it around in his hand a bit as he speaks to the camera.

“We were done! We had left this business behind and moved on with our lives. We had built great lives for ourselves with our budding new families. Hell, you and James were at my birthday party and we were waxing poetically about how nice it was not having to prepare for matches anymore! We had truly been freed from the unrelenting grasps of this business.

…boy, are we stupid or what?”

Centurion smiles as he sets his pipe down on an end table next to him. He opens the drawer from the table and brings out a small wooden box, which he places on top of the table.

“I suppose it was inevitable that we’d eventually find ourselves back in this position. I’m sure the moment I definitively said I was returning, the higher ups were coming in their pants at the thought of being able to put together this match…though the match stipulation is a bit much. I mean, I like apple pie as much as the next person, but involving a leather strap seems like overdoing it.”

“Yapapi.” The frustrated voice of Nellie is heard from the other side of the camera. “Ya-Pa-Pi”.

“Oh.” Centurion sits for a second, confused, as he takes in what Nellie says. “...what the hell is a Yapapi Strap Match?”

“What’s an Apple Pie Strap Match?!”

“Sure, fine.” Centurion says, conceding the point. Centurion opens the box he placed on the counter and pulls out a bag of marijuana. And we’re not talking ditch weed here. We’re talking that deep purple. Super sticky. The kind that’ll blaze the pants off…

“I need you to stay focused.”

Sorry.

Centurion places a few buds into the wood pipe and taps it down gently with his finger before pulling out a box of wood matches. He strikes one and lights the bud before shaking the fire out and taking a puff of his pipe. He stands up from his chair and slowly begins to walk forward.

“I do know one thing, though - you’re going to give me a beating. You’re not going to hold back on me AT ALL, despite the fact that I consider you to be a dear friend of mine, and I hope you would consider me the same. You and I have so much in common - one of the main similarities we share is our addiction to accomplishments. There’s a certain rush you feel when your hand is raised and you’re announced as a champion - a rush that never truly goes away. You felt it when you won the Anarchy Title, just like I felt it when I won the X-Treme Title.

And I wish I could give you an opportunity to feel that same way again this week. Honestly, I do. Unfortunately…”

Centurion sadly taps his stomach where his title would normally be sitting.

“I fucked up.

Yeah, go ahead and chuckle. I know I would. Hell, it was less than a month that Darren Dangerous dropped the Xtreme Title to Tommy Wish, and I roasted his ass HARD for that. I remember saying something like “how the hell could you lost the belt before you even get to the match?! How do you not see that coming when you're the champion?!”

Yeah…I walked into that one.”

Centurion makes it to the glass sliding door that leads his study into the side lawn of the cabin. He opens it and steps out as he takes another hit of his pipe.

“You deserved better, Atty.

Holy fuck, I feel like I’ve been saying that a lot lately.

But it’s true. You deserved a shot at the title, and you didn’t get it simply because of my mess up. And now, we STILL have to go though this stupid fucking match without anything attached to it - just you and me and a leather strap and for what? Bragging rights?

I don’t need any bragging rights. I mean, who the hell am I going to brag to anyway? All those dopes on Twitter who hurl slurs at me? All the children in the back who think I’m the most boring person alive? It honestly doesn’t matter if I win or lose - my reputation will remain exactly the same.

Still…I want to win.”

Centurion takes another hit of his pipe before holding it off to the side. The hand of Nellie is seen coming from off camera to grab the pipe. An audible hit is heard before the pipe is returned to Centurion’s hand.

“Maybe that’s just selfishness. Maybe that’s the inherent narcissism that all professional wrestlers have. Who knows. All I know is I see a wrestling card. I see my name on it, and someone else’s name on the other side, and I want the W next to my name, and an L next to yours.

Pretty damn simple, isn’t it?

Now, I don’t know how you win a Yapapai strap match. I hope it’s not one of those matches where you have to touch the four ring posts in order to win. Those suck. They’re not fun, they’re a chore to watch as a fan, and weird shit always seems to me happen in them. If you want to do a strap match, you gotta do it where your tied together and you use the strap as a weapon, but the goal is to knock out your opponent. Those are the type of strap matches I like.”

“Let me tell you the kind of strap matches I like…”

“Nope, nope, shut up.” Centurion cuts off Nellie and shakes his head before she can get graphic. “Though you do make a decent point - we REALLY should have another name for these types of matches. I don’t think professional wrestlers, nor there fans, were thinking about strap-ons in the late 70’s, but in 2025, they’re all a bunch of degenerates.

I don’t know where we go from here, Atty. I’ll be honest - I feel like I was forced to return, and I stayed because I had the Xtreme Title. For all rights, I should just bow out now - go back to my quiet life and pretend like the past two months have been nothing but a fever dream. If this was a different time, if the world was in a different place, I think that’s exactly what I would do.

But now? Now I can’t stop. Not because I don’t want to, but because I just flat out can’t. My mind and my body won’t let me. My SOUL won’t let me. So here I go, walking into a stupid match made by a stupid puppet that isn’t even for a title.

Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

Centurion takes one last hit of his pipe before handing it back to Nellie, this time permanently.

“This match may not be for the X-Treme Title anymore, but I promise you, we will have this match again someday. It will be on another show, and it will be for a different belt, but on that day, much like on Savage, we’re going to have an absolute banger of a match that’s going to cause everyone in the industry to take notice…and you’ll be left picking up the pieces after you meet your…

FINAL FANTASY!!!