Ken Davison sits in the car, driving North on the I-95 corridor, heading to Philadelphia. He had chosen to leave Kyra at home  Normally, this would be something they would handle together, but with Adina at home and this was no situation for her. It was hardly a situation for him, in his current state of mental health. He was supposed to be celebrating his newly found wedded bliss. In the almost two weeks that had followed, his best friend’s wife, who coincidentally was his wife’s best friend, had been assaulted in a show she was working on Sunday. She was now in a hospital and Ken’s commitments had kept him  a couple of thousand miles away. She and Ken had been bitter rivals, many moons ago. The two of them were in the process of making their peace. Then, the attack happened.

’How could it get any worse?’ Ken had thought to himself. At this point, he should have known better than to challenge the universe. He should have fucking known. It was later that day that he got on Twitter and saw a tweet from @demonofsobriety, his former student, Dorian. Except, it wasn’t Dorian. It was his daughter, Chloe Hawkhurst, known in UGWC for her appearance in the most recent Massive Melee. It would seem she had taken over the account.

“i dont know howto say it. dad;s gone. he got stabbed trying to stop this guy from beating his wife. we’re keeping thigns private. i dont want any of taht im sorry bullshit. this fuckng sux.”

Chloe, barely 19 now, was now an orphan.

“Dorian Michael Hawkhurst passed away on Monday, June 6th, 2022, after injuries incurred while breaking up a domestic dispute. He was 38.”

“Dorian was born on February 29th, 1984, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania…” 

That was as far as Ken could get reading the obituary before scrolling down to the bottom to find out where and when the funeral was. That was where he was in the process of driving to now. Chloe did not know he was attending. Ken know about her desire to keep it private, but Dorian and Chloe started training with him when Chloe was only 9. That was ten years. ‘Sorry, kiddo. You’re family,’ he thought knowing how she’d probably react to his arrival.

Thankfully, traffic on a Saturday morning was nowhere near as hectic as it would be had the service been held during the week. Ken gets off at the exit and deftly maneuvers his ‘89 Pontiac Grand Am through the streets of Philadelphia. The trees are scattered around perfectly manicured grass. He finally pulls onto Kelly driving, the pebbles crunching beneath rubber. He pulls to a stop and looks over to his left.

Day after day, almost ritualistically, would flock to the bottom of the stairs below the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Showing up to take a picture with the Rocky statue was a Philadelphia tradition. Originally, the statue had been created and installed for a scene in Rocky III, but now stood as an actual, honest to goodness, real-life document to a film here, a fictional denizen of the City of Brotherly Love, who is accepted as though he was a native son of flesh and blood.

After the obligatory photo op, many of the visitors then partake in the second, less obligatory part of the ritual. They try their hands and hustling up the grand stairway, Most then raise both arms in the air, mimicking the pose of their fictional hero. The beautiful view of the Philadelphia skyline was an added bonus. While running up those stairs was the goal, Ken wanted to neither take a picture of the statue nor did he want to pose at the top, though both of those things were considered a rite of passage. He was here to honor Dorian.

Being a native of Philadelphia, Dorian knew the ins and outs of the streets. He had taught Ken things about the city that he never would have learned on his own. The honor of wrestling in 2300 Arena, formerly known as Viking Hall, was one of the first things. Though known as many names throughout the years, the building in and of itself was hallowed ground among many wrestling fans. Dorian had taught him that you get your cheesesteak at Tony Luke’s and avoid the tourist traps known as Pat’s and Geno’s. Lastly, he taught Ken about how he had trained every morning by running up and down the “Rocky Steps.” Ken had never done so himself, but now was as good a time as ever.

Ken Davison took a moment to lock his car before looking both ways and crossing the street. He strides across the sidewalk and makes his way to the bottom of the stairway. ‘You have got to be fucking insane,’ Ken can’t help but think to himself. Maybe he was. He was standing at the bottom of the Rocky steps, in near eighty degree heat, less than two hours from attending a viewing, ready to run up those very stairs.

“Fuck it!” Ken yells as he bolts up the stairs. Underestimating the climb, he starts to become winded about two thirds of the way up the stairs. “Come on!” he grunts as he guts out that last few steps. Getting to the top, he falls to his knees, the adrenaline allowing him to ignore the feeling of concrete forcibly connecting with his kneecaps. Tears begin streaming down his cheeks as he remembers Dorian; his friend, another one of his adopted brothers. He has to get this out of his system now, he has to be strong for Chloe.

Ken Davison is dressed in a black button down shirt and black pants. The moon hands in the night sky, the Philadelphia skyline behind him. It is obvious from the Philadelphia Museum in the background that Ken has returned to the Rocky stairs.

I’m sitting here thinking about my life in my career. I think it’s because of things that have been happening in my life recently. I sat and thought to myself that this might be the most appropriate place for me to do this. I came to that conclusion because our lives and our careers are nothing more than a series of steps.

“That means that things will happen, things that we cannot control. The Baltimore Elite have been here for almost a year and our match against Zane and Cervantes didn’t go as planned. It was the 1st time that we have tasted defeat and been directly involved in that defeat. For that, I can only tip my hat to my opponents.”

“We’ve taken all of the steps that a successful team in this company can take. We made our debut, we climbed the ladder, and we were fortunate enough to win the Cooperative Championships. That loss was fortunately in a non-title match, which is most unfortunate of our opponents at Battleground.”

“Well you may be the embodiment of fear, there is nothing that you can say or do that can cause me to be afraid. I have stared death in the face and laughed. I have had everything in my life taken away from me and I have walked away. I was a stronger person for it. You and Hastings need to understand you do understand that I can and handle anything the true of you do of you can bring to my door. Our loss is doing nothing more than giving us the motivation we need to kick the 2 of you in the ass and send you packing just like we did to Donovan Hastings and his last partner. This isn’t bravado. This isn’t blowing smoke up your ass. This is the gospel condemned truth.”

“You would be wise to use this match for what it really is, and that is a preview of our tag team match at battleground. Because this is just another step that we have to take to cement our legacy in this company. You and Donovan Hastings are that step.”