It’s dawn. There’s thick fog. There’s a tranquil feel to the place. Despite the temperature being a tick above fifty degrees. “Godly” Ken Davison sits on the Atlantic Shoreline listening as the waves dutifully rise and fall, as they have done for generations and eons long before man walked the earth. The line of vision isn’t very far, the mist obscuring the horizon off in the distance. Not that it was important. For Ken, it was the smell of the ocean, the sound of the tide cresting and crashing. Those were the sensations that he found relaxing.

It’s not even that he is lost in thought. His mind is blank. It’s more that he is in a meditative trance. With all the moving parts concerning his upcoming match, he needed this time to focus7 on his approach, manage his stress, and increase his self-awareness. What he was unable to do is gain any sort of perspective on how he would deal with the awkward dynamics of his first title defense. Without opening his eyes, he reaches down and grabs his ceramic coffee tumbler, adorned with mini peanut butter cups and the Reese’s logo, a present from Adina who chose from Walmart’s finest selection. Ken subconsciously smiles as the warmth of the beverage warms his gullet on its way to his intestines.

There was a certain serenity in his solitude. Things at home couldn’t be better. After their reconciliation, Ken and Kyra were in the process of attempting to conceive. There was most certainly no complaint about the exact amount of trying that Davison’s were partaking in. That is why Ken sought out the quietude of Rocky Point Beach. It didn’t matter how Mac Bane, Jack Washington, or Matt Knox were preparing for this match. When you have four competitors with the combined talent and accolades of this quartet, every opponent presents their own threat. 

But that isn’t why Ken was here. Well, it is why Ken is here in the larger picture. But, in this place, at this moment, he has come to get away from those thoughts which have haunted him ever since his first defense was announced. The drizzle coming down from the sky is cold, but the freshness of the air is a stark contrast to the air coming from the salt chuck thirty yards away from him. It was a welcome, but only a momentary distraction. The rhythm of the water, like an aquatic metronome, also slowly fades into the background, a sort of white noise just blending into everything else. Ken’s very essence seems to slip into the flow of subliminal thought, adrift in a world of either dreams or hallucination, not that he would be able to differentiate the two. From somewhere within his hippocampus, the part of the brain that controls your dreams, Ken hears an old, familiar voice.

“How have you been, son?”

It was the voice of Robert Murante, the man who took him in when he was a fifteen year old runaway. Ken turns to see his father, surrounded in a grayish glow, like a force ghost out of Star Wars. Ken shakes his head in disbelief, but the attempt to ascertain the reality of the situation changes nothing.

“I guess I’m okay. Trying to be the best husband and father I can be.  If I can be a quarter of the father you were, I’ll do alright.”

“Are you taking care of yourself? Are you still wrestling?”

“Well, I’m currently a world champion in one company I work for.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you were taking care of yourself. You’ve never needed a title to be a champion.”

Even in this endorphin driven fantasy, that was the most “dad” thing Ken could have possibly heard.

“Well, you know how it goes. I mean, I have been wrestling since I was, what, eighteen? I had three concussions in the first six months of training. With how much I pushed, how much I’ve driven myself, I’ve picked up a concussion here, a concussion there. Now I’m twenty six years deep, Lord knows I should be a vegetable. Between that and the heart attack…”

Ken’s voice trails off, disappearing into the mist.

“I mean, I get everything checked out regularly. My ticker seems to be okay. All of the MRIs and EEGs and all of that show that I’m fine. I want to do this for as long as I can.”

“What happens if they are wrong, Ken? What happens if YOU are wrong?”

“I have fought too hard and too long to create this life. Wrestling is all I know. I have a family to think about and my wife and I wanna start having kids soon. Whenever Kyra gets knocked up, that’s it. I’m done. End of the road. If I’m still under contract, I’ll do what I have to do because you taught me to be a man of my word. I’m not the type of man to, I don’t know, win a championship then immediately quit leaving my coworkers and employers hanging. I am a professional and I am better than that.” 

“Then why will it be so hard for you to walk away. Why can’t you go home and become a family man?”

The question is asked thoughtfully, not in an attacking manner.

“Kyra is the love of my life, but wrestling is my mistress. I have wrestled in high school auditoriums and I have won a world championship in front of thousands of screaming fans in a sold out arena in India. I’ve met people that I consider family, such as Mac Bane and LA Riotz. These are men who have been friends, mentors and brothers for over twenty years. You couldn’t ask for a better life than this and in the past few years I am finally learning to appreciate those things. One day, I will be ready to settle down and start a new life. But, today isn’t that day and tomorrow doesn’t look good either.”

Pause. Silence. Nothing. Only an interested expression on the apparitions visage.

“What I am trying to say is that every joy, every heartache, everything I have in life, is because of wrestling.”

“When you build a foundation, you don’t spend forever there. You build around it. You aren’t meant to suffer on cold concrete your entire life. I think we can both agree that you’ve done enough of that.”

“So, you’re telling me that I should just move on with my life and walk away?”

“I’m not telling you anything. This is your vision, not mine.”

Before the conversation can continue, a faint voice disrupts Ken’s zen induced mirage. His eyes fill with tears as his father fades back into a mere memory.

“Ken… Ken? KEN?!”

Ken begins coming out of his catatonic stupor, returning to his earthly vessel due to his body being shaken violently by his wife. He begins to sit up, placing his hand on his sand covered face, momentarily confused. Before he can fully get his bearings, Kyra is practically squeezing the life out of him. She is holding him so tightly, so close, that he can feel her heart beating in his own chest.

“Oh thank God…” she says as she releases her hold on his body. She puts her hands on his face, looking into his eyes checking to see exactly what happened to her husband. Ken moves his arm up, gently placing his right hand on her left one.

“Hey… mama.” the words come out of Ken’s mouth in quiet, hushed tones. Kyra is nowhere near as calm, practically throwing Ken’s hand off of her’s so that she can check his own pulse. To her, it is unexpectedly calm. In their time together, this was the first time that she was truly afraid for her husband. It was a new fear, a fresh emotional wound she was not prepared for.

“Are you okay?  Do you need a doctor?”

“A vodka? Heaven’s no. You know I don’t drink.”

Ken isn’t trying to be facetious. He’s still half in reality and half in his dream state. 

“A doctor. I said, “do you need a doctor?”

“Oh, a doctor. No. I don’t think so. I’m fine. I was just sitting here meditating and next thing I know, my dad was here and then… it was you.” Ken pauses for a moment while Kyra takes in what Ken is saying. “Am I dead? Pretty sure you’re an angel.”

Kyra shakes her head.  “Nope.  Delusional, but not dead.”

Ken sits up on his elbows, nearly knocking over his cup of sweet, delicious nectar of the gods. Kyra puts her arm behind his back, lifting him up to a sitting position and wiping the remaining sand off of him.

“I’m fine. Really. I guess I just passed out,” Ken says as he takes another sip of coffee. “Hey, babe. I’ve got a question I want to ask you.”

She sits down beside him.  “And what might that be?”

“What adventures do you want to have before we die? Like, what if we just left everything behind and just did our own thing?”

She didn’t answer right away, instead she stared at him as she contemplated a response.  Finally she let out a sigh.  “I don’t know.  Honestly.  There’s so much out there to experience that I.. I don’t think I could narrow it down right now.”

“If I am being honest with you, I want to have one good run before I retire and this match coming up could be the start of it. With all the moving parts between the two companies, and then taking a look back at some of the promos from when we were chasing the Co-op belts, I think I finally figured it out. Maybe I did. I don’t know.” Ken’s face scrunches up. It’s obvious that he has something he wants to ask, but isn’t quite sure how to go about asking. Finally, he blurts out “Do you think I’ve gone soft?”

Kyra looks at him incredulously, before shaking her head.  “No.  Absolutely not.  If anything, you’re even more of a pain in the ass now that you’ve got us.  Besides, if you’d ‘gone soft’, you wouldn’t be the world champ right now.  You wouldn’t have beaten Mac for it to begin with and you sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten it back from what’s his name.”

She smirks. 

“Well, what’s his name isn’t my concern anymore. But, I’m thinking about Chicago, not Vegas. I’m thinking about Orsen, Rydell, Pierce and Vespertine, in that order.  In Sin City, I know where I stand. I’ve proven myself and I’m damned sure going to prove it again when the time comes. But I’d be lying if being successful in one company and just sucking in another didn’t concern me.”

She shrugs her shoulders.  “It’s exactly that, Ken.  Two different places.  Two different companies and rosters.  You don’t suck.  Far from it.  But I know that ain’t gonna do anything to ease your worry over it.”

“Yeah, we’ve been through this before. I know. But maybe that’s the issue. Maybe I need to stop treating them as two different places and start taking the same mentality. Once we finally got the Cooperative titles, I feel like maybe, I don’t know, maybe I just feel like it was mission accomplished and that’s why I got soft. Like Gabriel beat me, then Morgan beat me, but as soon as it was us against them, it didn’t matter because I knew that WE were greater than I. There, I don’t have you to fall back on and maybe that’s the difference. That sounds really shitty to say, but I mean, when it’s a singles match, it makes sense.”

“Well, here’s your chance to really assert yourself without me, you know?  You’ve never needed me to be one of the best, but you’ve gotta believe that for yourself.”

“I think you just hit the nail on the head. I just want to excel no matter where I am. I want to be the best so I can give you and the girls the best.”

Kyra leans her head on Ken’s shoulder. “You already do. But it’s about what’s best for us, not what’s best for everyone but you.”

“When you’ve got twenty something years of only worrying about yourself, you feel like you have a lot of making it up to do.”

“Hold up. You’ve said that you did all of that for Crystal. You said the only reason you came to UGWC was to win the Cooperative belts with me. You went to Sin City for you and you are doing amazing there. So what you need to do is win the Global Challenge for yourself. Damnit! You need to go out there, beat the piss out of Holden Orson, then bury those assholes in SCW to make a statement. You talk about how you are one of the best in this industry. Go out there and fucking prove it!”

“You know what? You’re right,” Ken says before kissing Kyra with a fiery passion that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, Masque was right. Maybe the old melody could harmonize with the current symphony.

“Godly” Ken Davison stands in front of a plain black backdrop, wearing a pair of black jeans and his Baltimore Elite baseball jersey, a nod to his tag team with his wife. Around his waist is the SCW World Heavyweight Championship belt.

“This match, to me, is more than just the first match in the Global Challenge. What I am vying for in this match is more than just a victory. We have so many people that talk about climbing to the mountain, or how they want to be at the top of the mountain. It’s about Kendamned time that I remind everyone in this company that at one point in time I was the fucking mountain. When I came to this company I made the decision to focus on becoming the Cooperative champions with the most important person in my life.”

Ken pauses, as he becomes choked up thinking about that time.

“And I am proud of what the Baltimore Elite have done as a tandem. Still, I do not want to live in that time forever. When I saw my wife, when I watched as Kyra won the Massive Melee, my heart swelled with pride. I remember the first time she and I met in the ring how I beat her ass. I remember our second match, I was fortunate to win that match because she kicked my ass from pillar to post and through where the crowd would have been if we weren’t in the middle of a fucking pandemic. Our last meeting, there was no doubt that she was the better wrestler that night. But it was that night that hardened my resolve to become a world champion. Because of that night, because of her, I was able to become the Carnage World Champion. There was a time when that meant something. During the Global Challenge, I know that here and now that doesn’t mean a thing to anyone else but myself. I hate to admit this, but seeing the return that JC has had and knowing our shared history it reminded me of a time where I wasn’t trying to climb to the top of the mountain because I was the Kendamned Mountain. This is not a moment like when I entered the match at Wrestlestock, the District Conquest match. I entered that match on a whim because I felt that I could prove that I belong. I felt confident. I walked into that match and walked out with the victory and I proved to this company that I do, indeed, belong.”

“My record, admittedly, has not been the best since then. I almost beat Rogan MacLean. I almost beat Lucy Wilde. I almost beat Sebastian Everett Bryce twice.The reason I lost all of those matches is because I forgot who I was. I am not one in a million. I am not even one in a billion. I am one of a kind. People try to walk around claiming to be the best in the world. The best in the world is just a gimmick. I am better than what I have shown here. I am actually as good as everybody else pretends to be and when I tap into that it is fucking scary. The purpose of entering the global challenge is for me to remind myself of what I am capable of. I have taken the best in this business and I have beaten them for well over a quarter of a century. What I plan to do is not necessarily use my four opponents at Stepping Stones. I don’t want to step on them. I want to step through them.”

Davison stops and cracks his neck, shaking it back and forth to loosen it up before he continues.

“If there is one thing that I cannot stand, more so than anything else, it’s being ignored and overlooked. That shit makes my blood boil. The thing is, I know that is exactly what will happen. I know that because I almost did this and almost did that some of the people in this are going to overlook me oh, take me lightly, take me as the punchline to a joke. The thing is that the best in this company could barely put me away.  I joined the global challenge so that I could go on to bigger and better things. Each and every week I am going to rise to a higher and higher level and that begins with Holden Orson. Most of the roster is going to sit there and remain complacent with their position in the company. Meanwhile, I am going to become a better version of “Godly” Ken Davison than you have ever seen here in the Coalition.”

“I was recently reminded of an old phrase that I had heard, one my father told me when I first started out in this industry. “ In life, you are either a thermostat or a thermometer.” You either set the temperature or you react to it. I am sick and tired of being reactionary. When I step into the ring, things are supposed to be done according to how I see them. I am a man who creates the climate. I set the tone. That is my job. While I have my faults, the largest one may have been that I have forgotten that when I stand in this arena alone, I am the one who needs to dictate the pace. I do not have to worry about what my partner is going to do.What that means for you, Holden, is that I am going to have to hurt you. You are going to have to be hurt because I need to get through everyone here and a show of force is necessary for that. There must be a sacrificial lamb and because you have been presented to me first, that lamb shall be you. One thing I have prided myself on in my career is that when I lose, I use that as fuel. I’m not just throwing logs on the proverbial fire, I am dousing them in gasoline with the full intention of reducing you to nothing more than ashes”

Davison walks to his left, settling next to a wall mount seventy two inch television, which is “coincidentally” showing the UGWC Cooperative Championship match where the Baltimore Elite lost their championships.

“Of course, I am certain that you’re sitting there thinking that because the last time I saw you, you were sitting there holding the Cooperative Championships in the air, that you have some kind of advantage over me. You do not. You and Fear just happened to be in the right place at the right time. The company kept throwing two random people together and the two of you were the ones who hit the lotto and caught us on a bad night.Since our pairing was announced, I have been going back and watching that match. I turn the volume down and I bask in the fluorescent rays of the moment. During the moments of your celebration, I gained my bearings, and I allowed you and Fear to have that moment. While you held those championships above your head, I was already awaiting my next move, waiting for my next challenge.”

“I don’t even think that you could understand what I was going through. I don’t think people understand what kind of crosses men like myself are burdened to carry. Thankfully, in this business, magical things can happen. I’ve seen it hundreds of times. The magic that you can weave allows you to reinvent yourself. I’ve seen a tough Canadian-raised kid from Croatia become a black belt from Japan. I’ve seen a farm kid from Nebraska become an overnight rap sensation. I saw a kid from New Hampshire become a Frenchman. I’ve even seen a guy who went through five different incarnations before finding himself a heavyweight champion of the world. If all of those things can happen, there is absolutely no reason why I cannot become the man I once was. There is no reason why I cannot become the monster I once was.”

Davison walks back over to his right, stopping momentarily to grab a sip of water out of a bottle before returning to his orignal position.

“Just make sure that you do not mistake my confidence for arrogance. I know what you are capable of and that is why I won’t write you off completely. I just do not believe you have come to the realization of exactly what I am capable of. That is why I feel the need to not only show you, but to hurt you, to maim you if need be. If I have my druthers, I want to take you out of this challenge week one, so that you are nothing more than an asterisk when people look back at this. I want you to fade Into obscurity. I want to make certain that you become one of those guys who in about five or six years has featured on the UGWC Network on an episode of “Where are They Now?” In a situation such as this, it is of the utmost importance to make a statement right out of the gate. First week, first match, first opportunity to put my stamp on what this challenge will become. That means that for “Godly” Ken Davison to succeed, you, Holden, must fail and I am very much looking forward to causing you to do so.” 

Davison makes a slashing motion at his throat and the picture fades to black.