The 1989 Pontiac Grand Am rolls slowly, respectfully, down the gray pavement leading into Holy Family Cemetery. It had been over a year since it had last traveled this road. The edges of grass that line the road are somewhat faded and worn. The narrow strip of road was not wide enough for two vehicles, so every so often, cars would have to drive over that portion. The rest of the grass wasn’t pristine, but it was green, for the most part. Oak trees, tall but slender, lined the road, spaced out about every twenty feet or so, standing like silent sentinels watching over those at rest there. The one thing that always felt out of place, was the rusted blue garbage barrel. Nothing more than a metal drum painted obnoxiously bright so that no one would hit it.

The Grand Am inches forward, hearing random crunches and pops as the Pontiac drives over all of the pebbles and cracks in the road. Making its way to the center of the property, where the path turns to a circle, encompassing a small patch of grass with a gray marble monolith in the center. It has a square base, thicker than most of the trees planted near by it, and coming up from each of the four corners, a spire with a Celtic Cross atop of it. Being near Boston, with it’s deep Irish heritage, that was not surprising in the least.

Inside, Ken Davison turns the wheel of the vehicle to the right, looking over at Kyra while he does.

“This is weird. Right? I’m sorry,” Ken says sheepishly as he squeezes his wife’s hand to make sure she knows how much he appreciates this.

“It’s not. Trust me, if I thought this was weird.. I’d tell you. But it’s important for you, so it’s important to me.”

Ken turns left, following the curvature of the road, and turns right at the first turn off. He gently pushes down on the brake pedal, coming to a stop at the third row of headstones. He reaches back to grab some flowers out of the backseat, but stops to kiss his wife on the cheek.

“This means more to me than words could ever express. I don’t know why I can’t let go. I don’t know if I am even supposed to let go. It’s just, I never got closure, I guess. You’re not mad at me, are you? Of course you’re not. You’re here. You’re with me. We’re good. We are good. Right?”

Crystal was, for all intents and purposes, the reason Ken Davison had evolved into “Godly” Ken Davison. The TL;DR version was that Crystal used to be the love of young Ken Davison’s life. They grew up together, fell in love, and would have been married had she not been killed by a drunk driver on Ken’s nineteenth birthday. The result was Ken shutting everything down emotionally. He built up walls as large and thick as the Great Wall of China. They remained there for 25 years… until Kyra Johnson. She didn’t even have to tear down his walls. She just walked in like she owned the place. Now, she did… which is probably why Ken was being so emotionally stupid right now. He lost a quarter of a century of emotional growth hiding behind his walls.

“Right?”

“We’re perfect, Ken.”

“Thank you. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

“You.. You don’t have to do this alone, you know. If you want me to come with you…”

Ken hops out of the car and wjogs over to the other side, opening the door for Kyra. She steps out and waits for Ken to lead the way. He reaches back and takes Kyra by the hand, walking slowly over to the third plot. Letting go of Kyra’s hand, Ken uses his free hand to balance himself as he places the flowers in front of the headstone.

“Hey… long time no see. So, uh… this is Kyra.”

Kyra stands there, taking in the awkwardness of the situation. She looks at her husband, talking to a headstone like it was a living, breathing person. To him, she was very much alive. Kyra could see that from the pained look on Ken’s face. Kyra begins to put and hand on Ken’s shoulder, but pulls it back, not quite sure if she should interrupt.

“You’d like her, I think. She takes care of me, holds me accountable, gives me just as much shit as you used to. Her daughter, Adina, she’s a hellion. I love them both to death.”

That was the moment. Kyra places her hand gently on Ken’s shoulder and he reaches up and holds her hand.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I moved to Baltimore, you know. I’ve got everything we talked about, now. I’ve got my career. I’ve got… got my family,” Ken says, stammering a little bit as he tries to check his emotions. “I think the thing you’d be proudest of is that I finally got my head out of my ass. I swear, if Sean and the rest of the family hadn’t taken care of me, at least until I met Kyra…”

And that was the moment that broke him. There was no way for Ken to hold back his tears. Kyra leans down and consoles her man, kneeling beside him and wrapping her arms around him.

“It’s okay.. It’s okay. I..I’m sure she’s incredibly proud of you.”

“It’s… it’s not that.”

“Then…what is it?”

“It’s you,” Ken says looking up at Kyra.

Kyra’s eyes widen. “Me?”

The moment hangs in the air, both of them trying to find the right words. It is Ken that manages to speak up first.

“For so long, I carried so much anger, even when I came here. It just ate away at me, constantly, to the point that I let it carry over into the ring. It didn’t matter who my opponent was, even you. That’s who I was, just an angry piece of shit who acted like he was better than everyone else. Now look at me. I can’t seem to win a match on my own. It’s so rare. Walking into the match for the shot at Rogan and coming out on top… I don’t know how the hell I did that. When I stand alone, I am nothing. When I stand with you, well, I think we’ve proven that when I stand with you, I actually.. We actually are better than any other two people that this company has thrown at us. I loved Crystal, and I always will, I know that. Maybe I just need to let go of what used to be and focus on what I have here.”

Kyra looks completely befuddled for a few moments before she gives Ken another squeeze, kissing the side of his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. I love you. My only regret is that I didn’t meet you sooner.”

“Maybe everything happens for a reason. I don’t know. But I’m glad we met when we did.. we wouldn’t be who we are now if we hadn’t.”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. I love who I am now,” Ken muses for a moment “I love who we are. Would it be okay if I just had a minute to myself before we go?”

“Of course,” Kyra says. Ken waits silently until he hears the car door open and close.

“This is going to be goodbye, for a while anyway. I think that you would want me to focus on being the best husband and father I could be. I hope that’s okay,” Ken lets the words linger. He knows he’s not going to hear and answer, but is hoping to feel something in his heart. “I’m happy, you know. That’s all you ever wanted for me. So, it might be awhile. I just wanted to tell you this one thing. I give you my word, that no matter where I go, no matter what I do. I will always love you. You will always have a place in my heart. I promise.”

Ken leans forward and kisses the headstone. He stands up and walks back towards the car, stopping for just a moment at the grave next to Crystal’s.

“Hey, dad. I love you, too. I’ll see you when you get there.”

Ken pats the top of the marker twice. It felt to him like he was patting his father on the shoulder. Looking out through the window of the car, Kyra smiles knowing what her husband is doing. The loud sound of thunder breaks the silence and a torrential downpour starts to fall. Ken runs back to his Grand Am as quickly as he can and jumps into the driver’s seat.

“It’s storming!” Kyra says, drawing out the words playfully. Maybe it wasn’t the right moment, but Kyra felt like she had to try and make him feel better. Ken smiles back, letting her know that she had chosent wisely. Not surpirsing, as both he and his wife are ceraunophiles.

“I noticed. But, let’s maybe get some food first. Let’s head over to Themis Pizza. I think it’s the only restaurant in this town that is still open from when I was a kid.”

Ken puts the keys in the ignition and Kyra places her hand atop Ken’s as he grabs the gear shift. Today, more than any day aside from perhaps their engagement and wedding, seemed to be having a profound impact on their relationship. The fact that they could still grow together after two years was something they are able to cherish.

After the Davison’s had a sickening heartwarming day with Ken showing Kyra around his old stomping grounds, it was time to turn their attention back to the Coalition. The couple are seen sitting on the top of a decent sized hill with a fairly steep incline, about fifty degrees or so. It’s where Ken spent his teenage years sledding in the winter. Behind them are the stands of Veterans Memorial Stadium, home of the Rockland Bulldogs baseball team. The stands in and of themselves are reminiscent of Fenway Park, but if it were bought off of Wish. It had the same general design, with the same green paint across the seating and guardrails around the stadium. The two main differences were that the seating ran along the side of the field, up to about first and third base respectively and there was no monster in the outfield at all, let along a green one.

All of that is one the other side of a chain link fence, covered in a green plastic that matches the seating of the stadium. For Ken, it was a lot closer to his heart, with the amount of time he had spent there for both football and baseball games. For Kyra, it meant just as much because she could see how happy sharing his past with her was making Ken. In fact, Ken was sitting there in his old football jersey. The number 19 jersey was a little snug on him, but the fact that he had gained 40 pounds of muscle in the past 29 years would account for that.

“Ezra Wolf, I have to say you went and pulled a rabbit out of your proverbial hat. Didn’t you? Just when we thought there was no one left, you dig Ezekial Tampax…”

“Pax,” Kyra says, correcting Ken even though she should probably know better.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“So you went out and dug up Ezekial Pax to try and make a go at Kyra and myself. I have to say, I am presently surprised. I expected the AstroCreeps to come back for another crack, or perhaps the Inbred…”

“Cornbred,” Kyra interjects, trying to look annoyed, but she is smiling like a parent who thinks what their kid did was funny as hell, but still wrong.

“Fine, The Cornbread Mafia would come over from NFW and actually follow up on their grandstanding. We put out an open challenge and the only interest we got was from some guy who used to be in the company who wanted us to drop the titles to him and his partner so we could create some kind of two out of three match. While I’ll admit, chasing the titles is always fun, we have never and will never throw a match for anyone. We pride ourselves on being the UGWC Cooperative Champions. We pride ourselves on being the best team this division has seen since we joined the company. We wanted the best, and I’ll be damned, Ezra Wolf went and found himself a Hall of Fame tag team partner. Even I have to respect that.”

“You fuckers needs to realize that respect only goes so far. It doesn’t matter to us what you’ve done in the past. It shouldn’t matter you what we’ve done in the past. We’ve both been at this long enough that we’ve all won our share of titles in the past. But, this isn’t about the past. This is about how we are the champions, not about how we used to be this or used to be that.”

“And what is up with your name? I hear the name ‘American Ultra’ and all I can think about is that horrible movie, and trust me, if you haven’t seen it, don’t. It’s one hour and thirty five minutes of your life you will never get back.”

Ken stops for a moment, catching himself before he goes too far off topic.

“All I can think is that you two are trying to be that movie ‘Pineapple Express’ on steroids. I suppose that would make Ezra the ‘Pineapple Express’ and Pax the steroids. The thing is, Ezra Wolf, I don’t care if you went out and got Jesus Christ His Kendamned Self to be your partner. The Baltimore Elite are the standard bearers of cooperative excellence in this company and the two of you are not going to change that.”

“We didn’t get here by luck. We busted our asses, we took every fight that was brought to us and didn’t ask questions. We have beaten the best there is in this company and left a trail of bodies in our wake. There is nothing you can say or do that will change that. We’re the motherfuckers who beat teams comprised of numberous future hall of famers, so beating someone who’s already in there won’t a problem.”

“While I appreciate your attempt to compete with us by bringing in a guy who’s so old, his greatest hits are only available on VHS, the fact of the matter is you know you couldn’t make it here by yourself, so you went out and found yourself a partner to carry the load. Luckily for you, Pax is like a Russian Doll. Full. Of. Him. Self. Then again, I might be wrong. I think it’s nice that he’s teaming up with a Make-a-Wish kid so he can compete for the Cooperative Championships. If I was your tag team partner, I wouldn’t carry your ass. I’d throw myself in front of a moving car.”

“We don’t worry about surprises. If we were, then we wouldn’t have called out every team in this damned sport. Still, the two of you waited. You could have called your shot sooner and we would have gladly started handing out your ass whippings earlier. Did you? Nope.”

“Ezra, I’ve watched your matches and I’ve discovered that your talent and charisma can be found on the side of the milk carton under ‘Missing.’ I’m fairly certain that you had to go into wrestling because when you took your SATs, you were so stoned, the only thing you got on your SATs was ketchup. Why the hell did he even agree to come out of retirement? First, you steal his nickname. Then you lie to him and you tell him that the two of you could become champions together. I don’t know why it is that Ezekial Pax believed you when you told him the two of you could take the Cooperative Championship from us. You’re so full of shit you make the toilet jealous.”

“It’s like Ken says, all we hear is Charlie Brown’s teacher going “Wah wah woh wah wah.” You two haven’t even had a match as partners. What makes you think you have a chance against us? I’m not trying to talk out of my ass, but the only reason the two of you are getting this match is because said that we would face any team willing to challenge us. You hear that, bitches? Crickets. I guess that’s why we get you.”

“The fact of the matter is we have spent the last year building up our opponents so that we could look better when we defeated them. We marched through team after to and watched team after leave the division because they have been afraid to face us. Maybe we’ve gone too far, but if you aren’t willing to go too far you will never go far enough in life. At this point, we don’t fucking care. We don’t promote fights. We sell fights because people want to see us win fights. I am like Jon Jones, I sound like Sean Combs and I’ve got trombone sized stones like John Holmes.”

“We asked for the best and got the rest. Not that it matters, we’ve got this shit on lock. When you put the two of us together, we will do whatever we have to do to protect what we have. Ezra might be a wolf, but he’s just a pup and he is dealing with a couple of alphas.”

“Speaking of alphas… Zeke, I don’t know what you see in the kid, but I respect what you are trying to do here. Regardless or what that is, you need to realize that we are the gatekeepers. We are the measuring stick. I don’t care who you’ve won championships with before. The past is the past, but we are the here and now. We are the future. I have to much respect for you to bury you the way I buried Ezra, but don’t make the mistake that my respect means that we’ll go easier on you. If anything, I am going to slap you around more, hit you harder and squeeze those submissions in that much tighter because I know that in order to bring down a man of your standing, I will have to do exactly that.”

“Talk shit. Get hit. It’s that simple, boys. It’s appropriate that this show is called ‘Run of the Mill’, because that is exactly what this match is for us. Run of the mill.”

Ken slides his finger across his throat, signaling the crew to cut the camera. Kyra wraps her arm around Ken’s shoulder and begins leaning in to kiss him as the camera cuts out.