A silver 2018 Pontiac Grand Am with Maryland plates that read “GODLY1” rolls across route 450 onto the appropriately named “Crownsville Road.” It wasn’t the most direct way to get there, but since moving to Baltimore, he hadn’t done much exploring of the surrounding area. He takes a moment to look back at Adina Johnson, sitting in the backseat in her favorite princess outfit, peacefully sleeping. Thankfully, her half eaten Egg McMuffin had landed on the actual seat and not on her “Ariel.” Ken himself was dressed for the occasion as well, wearing a cream colored peasant shirt and a kilt with the green and black of the Davidson clan, from which the Davison clan came. Conspicuous by her absence was Adina’s mom. Where was Kyra, exactly? Was she home sick? Was this simply not her thing? Was she home in the garage throwing axes at Jack Michaels posters? The truth is, Ken didn’t know. When Ken had suggested a trip to the Ren Faire, Kyra suggested that he take the time to bond with Adina. Ken would have thought it had something to do with the axes, except they didn’t own a garage, or an axe, that he knew of.

His black leather boots eased up off the gas pedal as they approached the grounds and the speed limit went down. Deciding it best not to wake a sleeping dragon, Ken decided it would be best to let Adina remain asleep until he was parked and settled. Approximately five minutes later, he was. He turns the car off and unbuckles before turning around and shaking Adina’s knee.

“Adina…”

Nothing.

“Adina…” Ken says a little louder.

Still nothing.

“Lady Adina of Baltimore!”

That worked. Adina shoots up and her eyes open as she looks out the windshield and sees the beige castle with an emerald green sign that says in white letters “PREPARE THYSELF FOR MERRIMENT.”

Ken steps out and puts his keys into his leather belt pouch. A moment later, he is opening Adina’s door and bowing deeply.

“Welcome to Revel Grove, m’lady.”

Adina lets out a little giggle at Ken’s dramatic formality. Ken extends his hand to help her out of the car then kneels down to Adina’s level.

“Have you ever been to something like this?”

“No… this is a-MAZE-ing!”

Ken lets out a small laugh.

“Just wait until we get inside. What I wanted to tell you is that this is all like a giant game of make believe. We all play characters. Today, you shall be Lady Ariel of Baltimore and I shall be your royal protector, Elderraven. So, the story takes place in the Middle Ages, which is kind of like when you see all the kings and queens in most of your Disney movies. Got it?”

“Okay, Ke… I mean, okay, Elderraven.”

Adina hops up and down, seemingly proud of herself. Ken pulls out his phone and holds it up.

“Hey, I want to get a picture for your mom. She’ll kill me if I don’t take some.”

That was a half truth. Ken had never in his life been in charge of a child by himself. He was terrified, scared completely shitless, at that prospect. So, just in case of a worse case scenario, he was going to have a picture of Adina ready. You can never be too careful.

Adina strikes a very un-princess-like pose, sticking her hand on her hip and making some weird gang sign looking thing with her hands. Regardless, her smile was priceless. Before putting his phone away, Ken looks at the time. 9:47 AM. ‘Perfect’ he thinks to himself. He hurriedly puts his phone in his pouch and takes Adina by the hand.

“Now, m’lady, if we hurry to the entrance of the Grove, perhaps the King and Queen will be there to greet us.”

“YAY!”

Ken feels his arm being tugged before he can even register Adina’s response in his brain. She tugs his arm harder before his feet finally start to comply with the young dictator’s command. Sure enough, after Ken pays admission and they get inside, there is a decent sized gathering of people as King Henry VIII walks in, followed by his royal entourage. Adina tugs on Ken’s arm.

“Where’s the Queen?” she whispers in his ear. ‘At home throwing axes in the garage,’ Ken thought. For some reason, he just couldn’t shake that image out of his head.

“I don’t know. Maybe if we listen carefully, we can find out more about the story.”

They find out that the Queen had recently miscarried, which Adina thankfully didn’t ask about. Ken wasn’t ready for THAT talk. That was definitely a ‘mommy talk.’ Anyway, uhe King is on the annual royal progress. He has come to Revel Grove to enjoy the Harvest Festival. The King is alone, which based on history says he’s probably looking for wife #457. Coincidentally, that was Roxy Cotton’s Official Frankenhooter ID. Ken wondered if she was here.

Most of the festivities didn’t start until a little bit later, so Ken and Adina navigated their way around the grounds. The original plan was to head to the kid’s area, but that seemed more and more unlikely as they got the one of the first stalls, which was home to a glassblower. Adina made Ken sit there for almost a half hour before deciding she wanted to see something else. Her head is on a proverbial swivel as she takes in all of the fancy outfits that the faire goers are wearing. In their morning there, they found a wizard performing magic, numerous fairies and more wenches than you could count. By the time lunch rolled around, Ken had gotten conned into buying wings, so Adina was now a fairy princess. After seeing Aerial Silk Fantasy perform acrobatics on hanging pieces of fabric, she was now convinced that she could fly, and that was before she got her wings. Adina now sits impatiently, waiting for Ken to bring her lunch, alternating between tapping her little feet and swinging her legs. Ken walks over and sits across from her. Her eyes get wide as Ken drops a turkey leg in front of her.

“Where’s the fork?”

“What fork? Use your hands.”

“But, Mommy says…”

“This is a special occasion. You’re allowed to use your hands here.”

“No way.”

“Way.” Ken picks up his turkey leg and takes a huge chunk out of it in order to convince her it was okay. Some of the turkey hangs out of his mouth and down his chin, causing Adina to let out a riotous laugh. He puts his spare hand over his mouth trying, and failing, to get the turkey all into his mouth. Adina cracks up even more as the turkey falls to the ground. He takes a napkin, points to it, then to Adina, and wipes his mouth, hoping she gets that they still have to have some semblance of manners. She takes a bite and follows suit.

“Are you having fun, kiddo?”

“Uh huh!”

The enthusiasm is somewhat less than what Ken expected.

“What’s the matter?”

“I wish mommy was here.”

“I get that. I do, too. Your mother means the world to me. She just wanted us to hang out with each other.”

“But you’re ALWAYS together.”

“That’s exactly it. She wanted us to have some time, just you and I. Since I’m marrying your mom, she wants to make sure we get along.”

“Duh,” Adina says matter of factly. “Mommy NEVER lets me make her into Ariel. But YOU let me paint your nails, have tea parties and you play dolls with me.”

“Not so loud, you’re going to ruin my street cred.” Ken says with a smile. “I don’t know how to say it in a way that makes sense, but you are letting me do things I always wanted to do. Thank you.”

Adina looked on, nodding her head. She heard his words, but with everything going on around them, it was difficult to keep her attention for too long. After a few minutes though, Adina’s eyes lit up and she pointed towards what looked like a makeshift chapel down the way.

“Can’t you and Mommy get married here? Look!”

Ken followed her gaze and raised his eyebrows in surprise as he saw what appeared to be a couple laughing and taking pictures just outside of said chapel.

“I hadn’t thought about that. I don’t even know when we’re getting married.”

“…Are you gonna be my new daddy?”

‘FUCK!’ Ken screams internally. He wasn’t quite sure how to go about answering that one.

“Yes, but no. Your dad is always going to be your dad. I’m not replacing him. No one ever could. I will be your stepdad. It’s like when you get a gumball from the machine and you get two instead of one. I’m the bonus gumball.”

‘I hope that makes sense.’ Ken thinks while Adina seems to be processing that explanation. ’Dear God, let that make sense.

“Okay, Eldergumball.”

The way the kid was carrying on, you’d think the dentist had slipped her some nitrous oxide AKA laughing gas. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. The rest of the afternoon was spent enjoying the mirth and merriment of the faire. Ken and Adina checked out the sights, but as all things do, the day had come to an end. Adina held her new wooden sword and shield as tightly as Ken held her tired, little body. The King bade them farewell, and Adina forced Ken to let her down long enough to curtsy, mimicking the other women of Revel Grove. Upon returning to the car, Ken buckled her in and she immediately fell asleep. Ken snaps one last picture to send to Kyra before getting into the driver’s seat. He sends the picture then calls Kyra right away.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey, how’d it go?”

“Good, for the most part. We might now have a princess fairy pirate wench, but I think only the fairy and princess parts stuck.”

“Oh, God!”

“Yes?”

“Shut up, smartass.”

“Love you, too.” Ken pauses for a moment. “There was something that Adina asked me that I need to run by you. Adina asked me if I was going to be her new daddy. I told her I was never going to replace JD, but it was like if you got two gumballs when you should only get one. You think that’s okay?”

“Of course that’s okay. It’s the truth.”

“Okay, I guess I didn’t totally blow it. Anyway, the GPS says we’re about 40 minutes away. Then I’m going to have to carry the kiddo in. Ariel already turned into Sleeping Beauty. I figure I’ll get us home and you and I can have a nice dinner. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan, hun. Be careful getting here.”

“I love you. See you in a bit. MWAH! Bye.”

Even Ken didn’t know why he was laying it on so thick. He was just… happy. Like, stupid happy. It was just one of those moments where the realization of his life was going hit him and he never wanted anything more.

Later that evening, Ken Davison is in his basement where his recording studio is set up. He stands before the camera, still in his Faire garb. Behind him is a black banner emblazoned with the UGWC logo, colored Carnage orange instead of the traditional green.

He takes a sip of water to whet his throat before casually tossing the bottle to the side, where it bounces off the floor three or four times before coming to a stop. Ken just shrugs and turns towards the camera. He takes a moment to shake himself loose and then stands up straight.

“Dragons are superior beings. That is to say that they are more powerful, more intelligent. They feel they are more worthy of wealth and territory, and more important than any other mortal creature. To them, this is no mere dogmatic belief; to them, it is simply a statement of fact. A fundamental fact, it is something they are born knowing, and a cornerstone of their personality. This makes dragons seem arrogant when they interact with normal humans, but it goes far beyond any human conception of conceit. To try to humble a dragon is like trying to talk the wind out of blowing or attempting to persuade a starving person not to die of deprivation.”

“However, if there is one thing dragons are known for, above all else, it is their horde. If dragons are known for any attitude beyond all others, above even their arrogance, it’s greed. Even the friendliest of dragons is as avaricious as Ebenezer Scrooge himself. Dragon hoards are legendary: enormous piles of gold, gleaming gems, magic items, wealth enough to buy and sell entire communities. Yet dragons rarely do anything with all that wealth. They collect not to spend, but to have.”

“You need to realize that I stand before you, a dragon that bleeds orange. I stand before a dragon, who has had part of his horde stolen from him. My horde was not a pile of gold and riches. My gold was everything I once held dear. My gold was my family, who I will fight to the death to protect. My gold was a place that changed me from a man who thought he was a God into a man who recognizes that there are more important things than one’s self. Carnage Wrestling, as a company, is gone. Carnage Wrestling, or at least the spirit of Carnage Wrestling, lives in the hearts of men and women such as Kyra Johnson, Joseph War, and myself. While I left “Godly” Ken Davison back in Carnage, the fact that Johnny Hitmaker wants to use it, or those of us here in the Coalition, to try and do his bidding means I cannot let it go. I cannot simply leave it behind. I wanted to leave that cocky, arrogant, son of a bitch in the past, but when I see the way things work around here, I recognize I simply cannot allow that to happen.”

Ken whips his neck back and forth, producing an audible cracking sound.

“Why can’t I do that? Because here we are. Another week, another reason that I question who the hell is in charge here. Where do I begin? Last week, Cervantes got tossed out of the ring and there were four of us who lasted in that match longer than he did. He gets a title shot anyway. I am sitting here trying to figure out how the hell that happens. We have Farewell Tour Guy, who got tossed out before Cervantes did. Now, he is in this match with me, being given another opportunity that he quite frankly does not deserve. Finally, I made my intentions perfectly clear from the moment I arrived here. Kyra and I want those Co-op Championships. I didn’t come here for a Chaos title shot. I didn’t come here for an opportunity to face the Conquest Champion. If I win, am I going to turn that down? Hell, no. I recognize the fact that if I can win this match, then go on to win the Conquest Championship, that puts me in a position where I can use that to leverage Baltimore Elite towards the opportunity that we want, the opportunity that we are going to prove that we deserve.”

“So, here I am, once again faced with the prospect of standing across the ring with the Farewell Tour Guide.”

A look of anger crosses Ken’s visage, to the point that one of the veins in his head begins bulging out.

“Now, Guy, I want you to give you a bit of a lesson on things. You obviously don’t know who the fuck you are dealing with. “Godly” Ken Davison, 25 year veteran of the sport. Yeah, we get that you did your research by looking at my profile on the website. BRAVO!”

Ken begins clapping his hands in a slow and mocking manner.

“The thing is, I don’t need to list all of my accomplishments on the UGWC website because what matters now is what I have done that ties in to THIS company. Due to the acquisition of our contracts, what I did in Carnage Wrestling is worth mentioning here. However, I am going to give you a short rundown of my resume, since you seem so concerned about it. CNWF² Television Champion and HWF Television and Tag Team Champion in my rookie year. Ranked 130th on the THE RSPW-F 200 list, KWF and DPW World Champion in just my second year. I could go on and on and on listing my accomplishments. This is so long even I get bored reading it. It is the second best cure for insomnia aside from listening to one of your promos.”

“Then you sit there and you talk about how I should change my last name to Johnson when Kyra and I get married? Sorry about your toxic masculinity, bro. Regardless, I can forgive that ignorance. I can forgive your narrow, shortsighted view of the world. What I cannot and will not forgive is the ignorance of you talking shit about my fiancee. Now, I understand that it is a time honored tradition in this business to attempt to invoke the name of an opponent’s loved one to get under their skin. I’ve done it a time or two myself. When facing an inferior opponent, that is a sure fire way to piss them off. Against an inferior opponent, getting them angry will make them sloppy in the ring. However, I am not an ordinary opponent and I am most certainly not an inferior opponent. While I possess the mental acuity and the physical prowess not to tear you asunder, I lack the remorse that would be required to prevent me from doing so. I am going to fuck your shit up so badly that when people see the scars, they’ll ask you ‘Is that from where the coathanger was scraping?’ and you’ll have to tell them ‘No. That’s from “Godly” Ken Davison.”

“Now, we’ve got two people I know virtually nothing about. First of which is Centurion AKA “Your Mom’s Favorite Wrestler. First of all, my mom is dead. I’m guessing if you were her favorite wrestler, she must have died of shame. I think it’s appropriate that you sit there and say “Final Fantasy” at the end of every promo. I have a strange affinity, perhaps even a kinship with Angeal Hewley, the character from Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII. Angeal was once an extremely proud member of SOLDIER, as I was once proud of the man I used to be. Just as Angeal did when his true origins were revealed, I also recognize who and, more importantly, what I was in my past. I know I was… and perhaps I still am, a monster. As such, I know that it is my job going forward to hunt those monsters as a dragon would hunt. Until I know what to make of you and Tony Savage, the two of you are prey.”

“As for the aforementioned Tony Savage, all I get from him is that he is the standard “I failed at MMA so I became a pro wrestler” type of guy. It’s something that shows each and every time you face an opponent who utilizes a style that you aren’t used to. I don’t know how or why I should even invest any of my time learning anything about you. I know you are going to try to simply punch me in the face then put me in some submission hold that I’ve been put in tens or hundreds of times. I don’t survive against people like you. I thrive against people like you. The fact of the matter is I am a Kendamned legend in this business who has shown his longevity by having a career where I have faced literally each and every kind of opponent you can imagine. I don’t care if you are exactly who or what you say you are because I am exactly who and what I say I am. You don’t survive in this business for as long as I have, claiming to be a Kyrafucking God unless you can back up your claims. I don’t care if I am facing Farewell Tour Guy, Tony Savage and Centurian or if I am facing the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. When all is said and done, you will see Ken Davison standing victorious in the center of the ring. Because when you are God, you don’t have to break the rules. YOU MAKE THEM!!!”

Davison stares intently into the lens of the camera as the picture fades to black.