Garden State Parkway Northbound, Milemarker 134.7, Thanksgiving Day, 8:17 AM. 

Ken Davison is flying up the highway at about 90 miles an hour. Despite the posted limit of 55, the State Troopers will normally leave you alone as long as you aren’t weaving in and out of traffic. Ken has his phone clipped to his dash, allowing him to talk hands-free while he’s driving.

‘’I’m not coming to dinner, Dad. I had something come up.”

Ken hits the turn signal and veers slowly to his right heading towards the exit..

“Your mother’s going to be really disappointed, you know.”

“Honestly, I know. But this is something that I have care of.”

“We were planning on visiting Crystal, you know.”

Ken pauses, his father’s words hitting him like a kick to the stomach.

“You there?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m here, and I know. Believe me, I know. We get a pretty good break after our next show. I should make it up for Christmas. I’ll make this up to you all. I promise.”

Ken looks around, checking for signs for the next exit. Despite the churning in his stomach, he is determined to turn around and head home.

“Not trying to be that guy, but it’s a holiday and I’d rather not taking my chances with the cops out.”

“Where are you?”

“Near Rahway where I did all those indy shows as a kid.”

“You hands-free?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’re fine.”

Ken pulls off the highway in his black 2018 Lexus ES. He somehow manages to catch every light green and is able to smoothly transition onto the Southbound portion of the highway. He reaches down to the gear shift, knowing that Kyra’s hand should be holding his. Ken can’t help but feel like something is missing when she’s not there.

“Listen, son. I’ve got to go help your mom. I’ll pass the message along.”

“Thanks, Pops. I’m sorry.”

“Love you, boy.”

“Love you, too.”

Ken turns his attention back to the road and as the call completes, the last thing Ken was looking at appears on the screen.

I-295, New Jersey Deleware Border, 9:49 AM

Ken is flying through Deleware on his way to Maryland. He’s fairly zoned out, focused on getting home to Kyra. “Chick Magnet” by MxPx fills the air as Ken looks over to the display and sees that it’s his brother Sean calling. He presses a button on his steering wheel and the call comes through on the sound system.

“Brohan, just heard the news. Everything okay with your chickadee?”

“No. That’s why I’m on my back to Baltimore.”

“Too bad. Julia and I were hoping you could meet the two new little squidlettes.”

“Damnit, I should have stopped at Shop-Rite and gotten flowers.”

“You made it into Jersey and you still turned around? You’re a good man.”

“You’re… not mad a me?” Ken audible muses, completely blindsided by the fact that his kid brother wasn’t about to give him the business.

“Why would I be?”

“Because I just chose a woman that I am still getting to know over the family.”

“Let me ask you something, man to man. How do you feel about her? And I don’t mean some “well, she’s cute and she’s kind,” fluff and bullshit. What about Kyra do you feel in your soul?”

“Spare me the guilt trip. Now’s not the time.”

“There is no guilt trip. What is it about her that draws you to her?”

“She makes me want to be a better man.”

“Why?”

“Because she deserves a better man than I am.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, dude. A good man knows when he’s needed and you, sir, are a good man.”

“Whatever you say, Sean.”

“Just do your lady a favor. Don’t forget to tell her how you feel.”

Ken continues driving, taking in what his stepbrother just said. Had he told Kyra truly how he felt?

“Trust me, dude. That’s some Mr. Miyagi level shit right there.”

“Yeah… you’re just a fortune cookie. Aren’t you? Listen, I have to go. I have to make sure I don’t miss my exit.”

“I hear you, bro. Be safe and we’ll catch you at Christmas.”

“Sounds good, Sean. Catch you later.”

Sean hangs up and Ken is again left alone rushing to Kyra’s side. ‘Have I told her enough?’ Ken muses. After all, they had just had their first kiss, and it was the most perfect moment of Ken’s life. Ken replayed it constantly in his head. ‘I know I’ll never be able to remember what Kyra wore that day. But I also know I’ll never forget the way she looked.’

One thing that Silvio seemed to do was carry himself with confidence in all situations. This is something that Ken was still learning how to do. As ‘Godly’ Ken Davison, he was supremely confident. As ‘Godly’ Ken Davison, he also didn’t care about anyone by himself. It was a hell of a lot easier to do whatever the hell you want when you don’t have to worry about collateral damage. Still, his status as the Carnage Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion carried weight and all of it bearing down on his shoulders. Right now, in this moment, he was not ‘Godly’. Even heading back home to Baltimore, even with his brother’s reassurance, he couldn’t decide if he was making the right decision.

‘We were going to visit Crystal, you know.’

His father’s words repeated in his head, like he was caught in an echo chamber. They beat him across the conscience like Chinese water torture. In a manner of speaking, his father was making him choose between Crystal and Kyra. It was hardly fair, although his father didn’t realize the choice he was trying to impose on Ken.

“Sometimes, I wish someone would just give me a sign.”

Ken reaches over to the passenger’s seat, fumbling around trying to grab something when he feels an unfamiliar plastic pinch his hand.

“Son of a…”

Ken looks down, finding a pair of Kyra’s sunglasses. He smiles, holding the sunglasses and he can feel Kyra’s warmth as though she is sitting there with him. But, of course, she’s not. Ken puts the sunglasses on, looking completely ridiculous, but who was he to complain? He asked for a sign and he got one. Now, to get the rest of the way to Baltimore as quickly as possible. 

Johnson Residence, Baltimore, MD, 10:23 AM

Ken pulls up to Kyra’s house and hits the brakes, stopping short in front of the walkway. He gets out slamming the car door and rushing to Kyra’s front door. He knocks frantically on the door, bouncing in place waiting for Kyra to answer.

“..Ken?!”

“Listen. I need to tell you something. It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“What are you doing here?  I thought you were going to Boston?”

“I was, but I saw the tweet. So, I came back. After everything last week, I had to be here for you.”

“You came back..For me?”

“Of course. We’ve had all these moments and everything, but I just… I don’t know, I had to come back. Something told me my place was here… with you.”

Ken sits there, fidgeting with his words.

“Kyra… I wish I could find the right way to say everything. This whole being there, opening up… I just sit here trying so hard to be perfect because I’ve fucked everything else in my life up… but this… I want to get it right. Reality with you is better than any fantasy I could try to come up with. So… yeah… here I am.”

Kyra stands there, flabbergasted for a few moments, Her eyes filling with tears. She rushes forward and wraps her arms around him, pulling him in tight. 

“Thank you..” She whispers, kissing his cheek. “You’re everything…”

“So… should I have brought pie?”

She chuckles and kisses him again. 

“Pie would’ve been nice, but no.. I think I can whip something up.”

Nonsensical screaming can be heard from inside and Kyra looks down and shakes her head as her daughter runs up into the doorway. 

“This must be the famous Miss Adina.”

Ken kneels down so he’s closer to Adina’s level. 

“Hi. I’m Ken. It’s nice to meet you.”

Adina eyes him up for a few seconds. 

“Why you wearin’ my mommy’s glasses?”

Ken reaches up, realizing he is indeed still wearing Kyra’s sunglasses. He turns towards Kyra, who is having a hell of a time stifling a laugh. 

“Well, she left them in my car and I didn’t want to forget them.”

The little girl stares him down for another few moments before seemingly forgetting that she cared about the glasses at all. 

“‘Kay.  Mommy, I’m hungry.”

Kyra nods her head and ushers Adina back towards the door. 

“I’m on it, Baby Girl.  Is it okay if Ken eats with us?”

“I dun care Mommy!”

She screams as she tears off through the doorway, her little stomps echoing through the house.  Kyra gives Ken a look, her lips settling into a smirk. 

“You sure you wanna do this?  She’s a lot worse once you get to know her.  Kid’s an asshole.”

“As long as it doesn’t end up with me getting kicked in the junk and Adina yelling “You’re not my daddy,” I think we can make it work.”

Ken smiles.

“Besides, I figured this was one of those all or nothing sort of deals.”

Kyra reaches up and touches his face. 

“I love your smile.”

“Yours is better. I’ve gotten punched in the face way too much lately. People really do like punching me in the face, you know.”

Ken lets out a small sigh. 

“So…  we gonna tell the little one or let her figure it out?”

She smiles and bites her lip. 

“..Are you telling me that this is a thing?”

“Are you going to tell me it isn’t?”

Kyra shakes her head and grabs his hand.

“Nope.  Just wanted you to tell me it is.”

Ken takes Kyra’s other hand and brings both of her hands up to his lips.

“I was just waiting for the right time to ask. So, I guess… please… um… You wanna make this official?”

“I’d love that… More than anything.”

Ken holds the door for Kyra, waiting for her to come inside before closing the door behind them.

Standing in front of the now-empty set where just a short while ago he had been doing a joint interview with Belle Silva and his Ultimate Carnage opponent, Silvio Leon, ‘Godly’ Ken Davison is far less composed than he was during the interview. Davison has unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a Kyra Johnson t-shirt underneath. His tinted glasses are nowhere to be found, and that little vein above his left eyebrow is visibly pulsating.

“Silvio, you done fucked up. First of all, unless you have business with Kyra, you keep her name out of your mouth. You mention her name out of turn again and I will give you a one-way ticket to a full liquid diet.”

Davison paces back and forth, trying to calm himself down, but he’s having no such luck.

“You want to come out here and tell stories? I’m going to let you in on a little story.”

Davison reaches into his pocket, pulling out his own deck of tarot cards. His hands calmly shuffle the cards, completely belying the rest of his body language. He casually tosses the top card onto the stool standing in front of him. The card, Death, faces up.

“Usually, Death doesn’t represent an actual, physical death. For myself, that was not the case. Almost 24 years ago, I lost everything. I lost everything I held precious in this world. At the time, I was a young, up and coming wrestler by the name of Tunzafun. I was the one of those everybody loves me kind of wrestlers. I came to the ring, gave a souvenir to one of the kids in the audience. Promoters loved me. The fans loved me. The merch table REALLY loved me. I was young. I was successful. I was in love… and I lost… all of it. Have you had your entire existence ripped away from you in a single phone call? I somehow doubt it.”

“That night, Tunzafun died. Ken Davison died. I came home from the hospital that morning, having lost a fiance and a child, and I tried to end it all. I drank every drop of alcohol in the house. I took every painkiller that had been prescribed to me. Then, when I thought I was good and numb, I slit my wrists. What came of that? I awoke in a pool of my own blood and vomit. I got up and I immediately fell to my knees. I asked myself what sort of supposedly kind and loving Father would allow one of their children to hurt so badly that they would want to end their own life. I asked Heavenly Father Himself and I was met with silence… deafening silence.”

“For me, it wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. It was the beginning of waking up every morning to the abyss. It was like that movie Groundhog Day except instead of waking up in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania like Bill Murray’s character did, I was waking up in hell. So I latched on to the one thing, the only thing, that I still had going for me. I swore that I would become one of the best to ever lace up a pair of boots. That was the one tie that I still had, the one thing that has tethered me to what I had lost.”

“I feel as though I’ve done pretty Kendamned well in that department.”

Ken flings the next card onto the stool in front of him, revealing an inverted Queen of Cups.

“The thing is with the Queen of Cups is that it can represent many things… for a healthy person, it could represent self-love or self-care. I was not healthy. It could be argued that I am still not healthy, I’m not going to deny that. I spent far too much time being co-dependent, trying to prove myself to a memory, to the idea of what I thought should have been. The Queen of Cups, generally speaking, represents emotional immaturity. This card warns a person that they should avoid becoming bitter or spiteful. That would have been a nice memo to have gotten 20 years ago. Be that as it may, it’s important to recognize that is who I have been. It is a large part of why I am the person I am now. I shut off my emotions. When I say I want to be the best, that means I have to quantify that, and my desire to defend the championship more than any other champion in history will be my burden of proof.”

“I’m not going to drag this out and step on your toes much longer, Silvio. However, I’d appreciate it if you would humor me and allow me to draw just one more card.”

Davison shuffles the deck one more time, stopping and snapping his fingers, flinging the final card on the stool: The Fool.

“The fool represents a number of things, the most common of these things is new beginnings. The fool is representative of being inexperienced and not knowing what to expect. Since you decided to pull back the curtain a little bit, Silvio, I’m just going to tear that bitch open and give everyone a clear view of things. I feel that I would be remiss if I started lying to people now.”

“As Silvio hinted at, Kyra Johnson and I are a couple, not just professionally, but personally, as well. He made it a point to bring Kyra up and of course, I couldn’t hold back. For the first time since I was 19 years old, I felt something… It wasn’t like what I felt when I beat Amber, where I was trying to prove something to myself. It wasn’t like what I felt when I beat Jack, where I was trying to prove something to Kyra. It was… pure. It was simple. It was an almost feral urge to protect Kyra. There is something about the love of that woman that brings out the best and the worst in me. I would do things for her that most men would see as unspeakable. I would do so without remorse or regret and I would do it because it would be worth it to see the smile on her face. That’s all the reason I need.”

“Here’s the catch, I know how this game is going to be played. Silvio, you’re going to bring out your cards and based give me some kind of reading. Let’s call it what it really is: a parlor trick. That’s not to say that I don’t believe in the power of the readings, I just know that the power of the reading is intuitive and that the cards are just for show. I’m not going to be blinded by the showman that I will be sharing the ring with. Silvio. There is a reason that you are undefeated in singles matches. There is also a reason why I have succeeded in so many high profile matches where I was expected to fail. There is a reason that I have been able to thrive when most people expected that I wouldn’t even survive. I have seen it all and I have done it all.”

Davison slides his tarot cards into the chest pocket of his overshirt.

“I’ve been clear about whom I fight for. You, Silvio? Who are you fighting for? Is this for your people? Is this one for yourself? Is this just some kind of end to a means? You claim that you are here to collect friends and not championships, yet you sit here courting fame. You look at those friends and you claim that you can see the trust they have for you. I see the trust in their eyes. I see the trust that you are going to be the knight in shining armor, prepared to vanquish the proverbial dragon. How do you handle that, Silvio? How do you carry all that extra weight on your shoulders? Will they still have faith in you, still trust in you, when the sky is falling? When I bring your collective hopes and dreams crashing down upon the canvas, will they continue to support you if you fail?”

“You are going to be propped up as some kind of savior, to the general masses, at least. The sad, pathetic truth is that it is not because of anything you’ve done, simply who you represent. To quote the Neil Young classic ‘Keep On Rockin’ in the Free World’: ‘There’s a warning sign on the road ahead. There’s a lot of people saying, we’d be better off dead. I don’t feel like Satan, but I am to them. So I try to forget it, anyway I can.’ You are not here because of any kind of conviction. You made it abundantly clear during our little chat that you’re just happy to be here.”

Davison extends his arms, the camera zooms in on the scars on the palms of his hands.

“Keyser Soze said the greatest trick that the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he didnt exist. Well, Silvio, I exist and I’m going to be your own personal demon because this savior has already been cruified for your sins, I bare the scars of my conviction. I bear the burden of proof. Somehow, people hail you as some sort of hero. Yet, I was the one that exposed the gaslighting that was taking place in Carnage Wrestling. It was I who spoke the truth, no matter the expense. It was I that brought to the light what was done in the light. Yet, Silvio, I am supposed to believe that you hold a candle to me. I am supposed to believe that you are the one that finds the solution to the evil despot holding Carnage Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship hostage.”

“To be honest, you very well could be the man who clips my wings and brings me crashing down to Earth. But let’s face facts, Silvio, you are one dimensional. You hide behind your cards. It doesn’t matter your motivation, it always comes back to your cards. I have a hard time believing that you will be the man that undercuts my aspirations. You are a talented, talented wrestler. I can’t stress that enough.”

Davison pauses, his face no longer one of rage.

“You know what? Enough is enough. You want to this title? You can take it. You can have it. What makes me a champion is not that I have this belt, it is that I have carried myself the way a champion should carry themselves. From the beginning I have done nothing but tell the Carnage Legion the truth. I have answered each and every challenge that has been laid out before me. I have done so without question and without hesitation. I am a champion because of the adversity I have overcome, adversity that Silvio Leon has yet to even encounter here in Carnage Wrestling. I know who I am. I know what I have overcome. I don’t know those things about Silvio. I don’t care to know those things about Silvio. What I know is I can stand tall, win or lose, and say that I did my gave my all. If I beat you Silvio, it will be a hard earned victory and I am sure that I will know I was in a fight. If you defeat me, I still win. I can say that I walked into this company and I have done exactly what I claimed I would do. I can say that I found something more important than a title belt.”

Davison reaches back into his pocket and flips one last card onto the stool in front of him.

“This match will be the last you will see of ‘Godly’ Ken Davison. Win or lose, ‘Godly’ Ken Davison will be no more. I no longer have to hide behind the arrogance of that facade. I stand before you, Ken Davison, the man. Silvio, bring your cards, your tricks, all of your secrets. With or without the name, Ken Davison is still the toughest sonofabitch in this company and come Ultimate Carnage, I am going to once again prove it to you and the rest of the Carnage Legion. I am Ken Davison. I am the Carnage Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion. I will continue to be a champion regardless of whether or not I hold that title belt because I have someone more important to defend, and defend her I shall.”

Ken walks off the set with a sense of purpose that we have never seen from him before.