January 27th, 2020

On a unspecified hotel balcony overlooking the sea, Ned Kaye leans against the rail, his arms crossed as he watches the glimmering moonlight reflect off the water. His hair floats almost effortlessly from his shoulders as winds gust by. He glances to his right, checking to ensure that his 24/7 Briefcase is still there. Ned recalled the night of Leap of Faith, when he had managed to win the grand prize that evening. It was the only professional wrestling prize he had ever managed to get and it was a glorified shell to the most important piece of paper in Ned's life currently. The one that guaranteed him a chance to fulfill his promise. A chance to prove himself to his teammates and friends. He frowned slightly, realizing that he was the only member of his teams that had competed that night and lost. Ned had to wonder if he had earned that briefcase or merely stumbled into it in a moment of blind luck. Before Ned could elaborate on the thought, he hears the sliding glass door open from behind. Twisting around, he sees Dewey Main, holding one of his trademark cigars and an impressively expensive lighter. He walks to the railing to stand beside Kaye and holds the cigar with his teeth while he fiddles with his lighter. As he does this, a few muddled words escape his jaw.

"So what's the plan, kid?"

Turning his gaze to meet Dewey's vacant stare, Ned shrugs before responding, more than a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Well-uh... first I've got a match with Noah Jackson and Calvary. Then I've got to go face Griffin MacAlister at that next Warfare. I guess going in there and winning is the place to start..."

Dewey squints a bit before tapping his cigar against the railing to dispel the ash for the tip.

"I meant 'bout getting back into America."

"Oh. I was gonna talk to James and get that sorted out before too much time passed. From my knowledge, he should already be well on his way to pulling some strings for us. I'm gonna owe him one hell of a thank you once we get back!"

Despite his attempt to imitate some energy, Dewey sees through Ned instantly. He waits a moment to let his cigar burn some more before finally meeting Ned's eyes.

"So what's going on, kid? Underneath that thumbs up and optimistic smile you toss out there for the world to see?"

Ned's face falls, not surprised by Dewey seeing past his attempt to look on the brighter side. He runs a hand over the rail, letting his finger slide over the imperfections and bumps in the metal.

"I'm... I'm disappointed in myself."

"What's new?"

"Ha ha. I'm being serious here, Dew."

"Do I sound like I'm joking, son?" Dewey glares at Ned, keeping the cigar in his mouth as he places his hands together. "What's different about this loss over your last few?"

Ned ponders silently, unable to come to an answer.

"You had a chance."

Kaye lets the words sink into him, feeling their gravity affect him profoundly. He had put immense time and effort into being ready for his title match with Fuzz and he still couldn't pull it off, however his inner self-deterrence was cut short by Dewey.

"You competed with Fuzz for his title, at his show, on his terms and you almost beat him."

"Almost doesn't cut it."

"You're missing the point, kid. This guy's at a career high. You're at your lowest point, work-wise, right?"

Kaye regretfully nods.

"And you almost beat him. Where's the shame in that?"

"Because I could have done better, Dewey! I should have!"

Ned throws his hands up, clearly beginning to get frustrated by Main's insistence to keep discussing his failure.

"Yeah, you could have, but what you did do was great! You made overwhelming progress in a short amount of time and you almost stripped away his streak from him. You! The kid who can't be arsed to give himself the tiniest bit of leeway almost beat the hottest act in that little wrestling company of y'all's on a bad day! And now you wanna mope about it?"

"It's not moping, Dewey! Maybe I just wanted to win for once! Maybe I would like a title after everything I've had to go through in the last year! I can't be around my own mother after a horrible fall because of this FBI shit! My tag partner and friend has barely been talking to me lately! Hell, I can practically hear the prestigious stable I'm apart of waiting to have "the talk" where they cut me out before I can even leave on my own terms."

Dewey presses his cigar against the cold steel of the rail, extinguishing it.

"This is what I can't stand about you, boy."

"What? That I can't just shrug off my failures like some other people here can?"

"You can't even identify your damn failures. Now I didn't come here to be your damn psychiatrist and if you want to just toss yourself off this balcony and be done with it, you better just go ahead and get it over with!"

Ned turns away, visibly hurt by the comment.

"Well?"

"I don't want to do that."

"I didn't damn well think so. So, how's about instead of you finding reasons to hate yourself, you put that shit aside for the time being because I'm not gonna put up with it and it's my professional opinion as your "trainer" that it's a pain in my ass and a waste of your time."

Ned looks down at his feet.

"You know, I wasn't even worried about this match with Griffin MacAlister until today. I know I can compete with him. I know I can beat him. I just don't know if that's enough anymore."

Dewey places a hand on Kaye's shoulder, his tone becoming less sharp.

"Kid. This Griffith McAllen ain't gonna beat ya. Fuzz didn't beat ya. Whatever the hell that is holding the big belt ain't gonna beat ya. But you will. Every single time you do this, you plummet miles behind everyone else. So, for the love of God, Ned, don't be proud of being yourself. Be proud of what that means, even if that's being a sharp pain in my ass on most days."

Dewey grins at Ned before heading back towards inside the apartment. Ned smiles a bit, taking in Dewey's words. Prior to Main closing the door, Ned speaks up.

"Why did you agree to train me, Dewey? If I'm a pain in your ass?"

Dewey's smile grows wider as he chuckles, giving a hearty shrug.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Dewey shuts the sliding door, leaving Ned to feel the breeze pass him by. He glances down at his necklace, the ring dangling from its lowest point and he recalls something. He heads inside, finding Ethan half asleep, sprawled out over one of the beds, dressed in his normal attire. Ned smirks at the visual of his friend struggling to stay awake before sitting next to him.

"Hey, buddy. You okay?"

Ethan tiredly nods, sloppily grabbing a blanket to cover himself for warmth.

"What did you think about last night?"

With a big yawn, Ethan replies, "I think you did great, Ned. You're really getting back into that groove, even in loss."

"You really think so?"

"Mhm. Heck, if you're there now, where will you be in two months?"

Ned smiles, thinking the same to himself.

"I'm gonna let you sleep, okay?"

Ethan exhaustedly gives a thumbs up before struggling out, "Wait."

Ned stops himself, letting Ethan continue.

"Raven called today and said he wants to talk tomorrow. With the team."

"Oh boy..."

Running a hand through his hair, Ned fears the absolute worst. He prepares to get up again when Ethan continues once more.

"You also got a call from Mia."

Surprised by the name, Ned stops completely. He takes a deep breath and considers exactly why Mia reached out, though the obvious answer eludes him.

"Anything else?"

"One more thing..."

Ned waits with bated breath, unsure of what his friend could've kept for last.

"Dewey ordered some lobster from room service, but he told me not to tell you."

"Oh," Ned accepts the anticlimactic revelation and leaves his friend be. "You oughta get some rest now."

Walking over to his bed, he lays down and stares at the ceiling, letting the small glow of the lamp warm him up. He places his hands behind his head and focuses on all the cracks and details in the plaster. As Dewey's words sink into him more, he closes his eyes, smiling. For the first time in months, Ned feels like he's ready, but for what, he's still uncertain.

"You can't run from yourself."