It’s 11:58 in the evening on this quiet Philadelphia evening. Sitting on his porch, nursing a bottle of Stewart’s Root Beer, “The Demon of Sobriety” sits, pondering his future. The rain outside falls, but Dorian Hawkhurst is oblivious to it. In his mind, it is just him and his thoughts. It had been a long time since he had been inside of a wrestling ring, a proper wrestling ring, at least. His long black hair hangs in front of his face, but Dorian doesn’t seem to be bothered by it.

Dorian looks up, his introspection is broken by the creaking of a screen door. His girlfriend, Morgan, steps through the door, carrying another bottle of root beer for Dorian and a bottle of water for herself. Dorian comes from a rather straight-laced, well to do, southern family. By his father’s measure, Dorian was a failure. Dorian was viewed as an embarrassment to the family name. He was a drunk. He was a teenaged father with a bastard child. When he pursued professional wrestling, his father admonished him for being a part of ‘that carny bullshit.’

It was would seem to the elder Hawkhurst that having a Nubian Goddess in their home was the last straw. Morgan Devereaux was that straw. “How dare you disgrace the family name by bringing that-” It didn’t matter what the next word was because Dorian’s father never got the chance to finish his sentence. Already a disgrace, Dorian cemented his disownment when he crushed his father’s jaw with a right cross. He had Morgan’s hand and was out there door before his mother could even get out of the kitchen. Chloe, to her credit, stopped only long enough to kick her grandfather in the ribs. That night, they had Thanksgiving Dinner at Perkins. In the Hawkhurst family scrapbook, it was titled “Best Thanksgiving Ever.”

“Thanks.” Dorian utters, still sitting with his hair hanging in front of his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Just thinking.”

“Lay it on me.”

“I am just sitting here and thinking about how I got to this point. Ya’ know?”

“What do you mean? How you got back into wrestling?”

“No. I mean, yes, but no.”

“Okay… then what do you mean?”

“I mean, everything. For some reason I got to thinking about us. I started thinking about my father, my fuck ups, and how I am doing everything I can to make this life work. I guess my meeting really got me thinking about my journey.”

That meeting was Alcoholics Anonymous. Over the years, Dorian had attended on and off for the last 11 or so years. He got a lot of love and support from those meetings. They were his safe space. But this wasn’t just a regular meeting for Dorian. He just got his two-year chip. Dorian was proud of that. It was the longest he had stayed sober in his adult life. Not the type to brag, or open up about his feelings, he had kept that to himself. Still, he knew Morgan was going to press him, so before she can ask, he reaches in his pocket and tosses the coin over to Morgan.

“OH MY GOD! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!” Morgan says before practically pouncing on Dorian. She places both hands and his cheeks, pushing his hair out of his face,  and kisses him. Dorian is trapped. His only recourse is to smile and kiss Morgan back.

“It’s been a ton of work, but worth it. I just can’t help but think of everything that has happened along the way.”

Morgan stands up straight. Dorian looks at her with a gleam in his eyes.

“You know, I haven’t told Chloe that I’m getting back in the game.”

“She’ll be thrilled and with all this COVID-19 bullshit, she’ll be able to do her school work virtually. It’s a win-win.”

“It will be, for sure. You sure I can’t change your mind? I’d like you to come with us when we’re in Baltimore? It’s only a two-hour drive if you need to come home?”

“Someone’s got to stay behind with the cats. Besides, Pumpkin is a whiny little bitch. He’ll sit at the door until we come home and you know I have to work Mondays and Tuesdays. By the time the show is over, you and Chloe change into your civilian clothes and grab a bite to eat, we wouldn’t even be leaving Baltimore until 1 in the morning and I need my beauty sleep.”

“You win.” Dorian sighs. “I can’t wait to tell her in the morning.”

“Is she going to be staying with me?”

“Nope. Same deal as before. The kiddo’s coming with me.”

“I’ll get Lync out of the attic.”

Even Dorian can’t help but roll his eyes. Lync was a frying pan, personally gifted her to Mia Rayne and stained with the blood of the late Jace Valentine. Thankfully, Chloe hadn’t been his cause of death, but that’s not to say he didn’t deserve it.

“Maybe grab the Tax mask, too.” Dorian pauses for a moment. “Nix that. It’s bad mojo for Mia. Speaking of Mia, do you think you can call Ambrosia on your lunch break and make an appointment? Chloe’s going to want to put those sapphire tips back in her hair.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Speaking of not wanting to go to bed late, think we should head to bed?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Dorian grabs his unopened bottle of root beer with his left hand and Morgan’s hand with the other. He pulls the screen door open with his foot and holds it open for Morgan.

“Baby girl, wake up. Time to get ready for school!” the booming voice of Hawkhurst the elder reverberates through their house.

“Aw… can’t I sleep for ten more minutes?”

“Child, I already let you sleep in an extra half hour. Now, get your ass out of bed. I’ve got chicken and waffles on table. I know they aren’t as good as Uncle Jimmy’s but they’ll have to do.”

Chloe Hawkhurst stumbles in, wearing a rainbow cheetah print onesie. She pulls out the cherry oak chair and promptly plops her ass down on the chair.

“And a good morning to you, sunshine.”

“You said there was chicken.” Chloe pouts. “And waffles.”

Dorian walks over to the table, holding a manilla envelop. He puts it down on the table and slides it over to Hawkhurst the younger. “I already signed your permission slip, if you want to go.”

“C’mon, dad. We know school isn’t doing field trips right now.”

“Just look at it, will ya.”

Dorian mumbles something under his breath while he turns around to get a waffle out of his waffle maker.

“What’s this?”

“Just look at the top. I’m not going over everything.”

“A CONTRACT‽”

“Yeah. Gonna be different than the old place, though. I guess people weren’t happy about the fact that you wanted to wrestle. So, you just have to settle for coming to the ring with me.”

“Listen here you little shit!”

“HEY! Language young lady. Rules are rules. There’s some insurance issues going on. You remember C Ass J?”

Chloe’s voice goes flat, speaking with all the excitement of a child who just found out they were on their way to get a root canal when they were expecting a Happy Meal.

“Yeah…”

“Well, he’s in charge. We both know he’d let you wrestle because it would create a buzz, and he liked whatever attention he could get.”

“So, when are we leaving?”

“First show records over the weekend. It’s a short drive, so we’ll head out Friday night. Stay until Monday, drive back Tuesday morning. I still expect you to do your schoolwork Monday morning. This isn’t a get out of jail free card.”

“Um… daddy?”

Chloe must be concerned about something. The fact that she’s calling him ‘daddy’ is a dead giveaway. He lets a out a loud sigh.

“Yeah, baby girl.”

“Is Auntie Mia going to be there?”

“Sort of…”

“Amelia?”

“No.”

“Loki?”

“No, thank God.”

“Cheshire.”

Dorian can only nod his head up and down.

“I miss Auntie Mia.”

“She’s in there,” The words hang in the air during the pregnant pause. “Somewhere.”

“I know.”

Dorian turns around and pulls the chicken out of the frying pan.

“Just sign where it tells you to. Breakfast is going to be ready in a couple. Get that taken care of before I give you your plate. I am not sending back a contract covered in syrup.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know I hate it when you do that.”

“I know.” Chloe gives her father a knowing smile.

Dorian rolls a pen across the table before turning back to the chicken, giving Chloe the chance to sign it. Dorian turns off the stove. He goes to grab the contract, but Chloe pulls it away.

“Wash your hands. I’m not sending back a contract covered in grease.”

“Listen here, you little shit.”

“DAD! Language.”

Dorian can only roll his eyes, knowing Chloe was truly his mini-me.

Hours from Philadelphia, the Harkhurst family walks outside of the still strange stomping grounds that is the Carnage Wrestling corporate offices. Dorian is wearing his old Forsaken t-shirt, featuring the original foursome of himself, Mia Rayne, The Shadow and Ataxia. Chloe is wearing a shirt from Mia Rayne’s days as Amelia. They continue walking through the parking lot when Chloe stops to point and laugh. They see a license plate that reads “CSJ.” Dorian smirks before shaking his head no and pointing up to the security cameras on the roof top. Chloe nods while mouthing the word “okay” to her old man. They turn around the corner, finally coming across a portion of the brick walls without any cars parked near it.

“Perfect generic brick wall for a wrestling promo.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you were alive in the 90s.”

“Sorry, padre. Just watched a lot of your old VMS tapes.”

“VHS, smartass.”

Dorian looks over at the camera crew.”

“Hey, man. We got good enough lighting or you to set some stuff up?”

“We’re all good, man. We can go whenever you’re ready.”

“Moo.” Dorian snaps his fingers and Chloe whips her head around. “Showtime.”

Chloe walks over and stands in front of her father. Dorian looks down at Chloe and takes a deep breath.

“Ready?”

“Freddy.”

Dorian raises his fists in the air while Chloe holds her arms to the sides. They hold their pose as the cameraman counts down and gives his cue that they’re filming. Dorian and Chloe bring their arms, completely in sync with one another. Chloe’s comfort in front of the camera shows her experience and poise.

“We’re baaaaaaa-aaaccccckkkkkk!!”

“Some of you know who we are and some of you don’t. So, what I’m gonna do right now is give you a quick lesson. We came here because we got some news from an old friend. And while the entire band hasn’t gotten back together, we are more than glad to help where we can. You see… where we come from everyone knows that you find “The Demon of Sobriety,” you find the “Mini-Demon” in tow.”

“We’re back because some of our old toys seem have shown up in someone else’s toybox.”

“Patience, little one.”

Dorian pats Chloe on the head and looks back at the camera.

“What I need for Carnage Wrestling to understand first is not what I am. but what I am not. I am not perfect. I’m a flawed man with a flawed past. I am not some kind of superhero, literal or figurative. I’m not here to save the world. I’m not the type of man that will walk in with illusions of grandeur acting like I am greater than anyone else is here. I’m not going to brag about things I’ve done in the past because it has no bearing on what I am going to do here. I am not going to act like a loss is a setback, when it is an experience to learn. I am not the type of man to make excuses.”

“And the best part is, because he’s a wrestler, he’s not the type of man to REALLY hit me when I’m bad.”

Chloe gives a knowing wink to the camera as Dorian rolls his eye.

“That helps, baby girl.”

“What I am is a man who is honest, honest to a fault, in fact. When I signed up for this, I was told I was going to get my chance to get to one of SSRI’s little minions.