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Thread: Kingdom Come X: Xander (c) v Steven Holmes (WHC)

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    G-Mod Lee's Avatar

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    Kingdom Come X: Xander (c) v Steven Holmes (WHC)

    Xander shocked the world by winning the Lethal Lottery but another shock happened in the same event. The return of Steven Holmes. Himself a very decorated superstar he has the backing of the WZCW universe. Will Xander defend or will the Elite become world champion?

    Deadline Tuesday 15th October 11:59pm Eastern (No extensions)

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    Deadline extended for all matches to Saturday 19th 11:59pm Eastern

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    Senior Member FunKay's Avatar

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    Darkness. Total, absolute, complete. Silence accompanies it. A few seconds pass, nothing filling the void. Then, a voice…

    Holmes: Are we ready?

    Man: We’re rolling sir.

    Holmes: Good…

    Suddenly, we smash cut; Steven Holmes’s face fills the majority of the screen. He is cast in black and white. A single light cast upon his face, the background remain completely dark. All oh Holmes’ façade though is stripped away. This is one man, delivering his words direct to his audience. He smirks and nods, the moment his, on the eve of perhaps his biggest night professionally.

    Holmes: There is much to say…

    We cut quickly out to a simple, white title card:

    Steven Holmes: A Confession

    We fade out of it, the white consumed by black slowly before we again smash back into Holmes’ face.

    Holmes: I’ve fought in many wars, spilt much blood. I’ve rendered men totally and utterly destitute and lifeless. I’ve used all my cunning, all my guile, all my sinister impulses. I am a monster. I slaughtered countless in pursuit of personal glory. This is true both inside the ring and beyond it. The blood still stains my fangs and claws. Many a man has cursed my name. Yet somehow in that chaos, that nasty pit in which I operate, I found tranquillity, peace, happiness.

    An earnest smile. He nods and itches his nose, considering his next words carefully.

    Holmes: Celeste Crimson.

    He sniffs, nods again, this time with increased frequency, trying to buoy his spirit on. This is a sensitive subject, but one he feels he must bear for all to understand, to realise what this Kingdom Come really means. He persists.

    Holmes: If one must be honest, I seduced and deceived her. I lead her astray, I intended on using her as a soldier in a war on the World’s Heavyweight Championship. You see, I had tried, vainly, to pursue that title, that moniker, for months. I was always so close and yet oh so far. It seemed that perhaps I may never wrap the leather and gold around my waist. And yet, I knew it was but destiny. It had to happen. It consumed me, and I would achieve it,by any means necessary. So a plan was hatched, a plot conceived.

    Celeste would be the sleeper agent. She’d catch the reigning champion, “Showtime” David Cougar, she’d catch him unawares. We had no prior connection and so it would be a left field manoeuvre he never saw coming. But in order to secure her services, I dipped more than my toe into the water…

    The arguable vulgarity of that statement catches Holmes himself unawares. He chuckles briefly but fiercely. He licks his lips as a cat licks its, stroking his chin as he does so.

    Holmes: And so it came to pass. The Red Queen herself took the grandest prize in all of WZCW, and smote Cougar with it, allowing my ascendancy. I became champion. It was vindication. I had done it. True, she had been the one to cast the winning blow, but it was I who facilitated this moment and it was I who reaped its rewards. And yet… it felt incomplete. Still a hunger roared in my stomach. And so I took her in my arms… and never ever let her go.

    Cheekbones rise high as Holmes grins stupidly, joyful, in love. His gaze is cast down as he reminisces. He refocuses, swiftly his eyes lock back on the camera, resuming.

    Holmes: It had been my intention to use Celeste, an insurance policy to protect my reign as king. Another line of defence to protect my obsessive desire to rule WZCW. Cowardice? Perhaps. But in truth I made a fatal error. I fell in love. This woman, this beautiful powerful incredible woman, this trailblazer, this pioneer, this warrior stole my heart, much more than the gold of the World’s Championship ever could. And soon that meagre championship was cast aside. I was left beaten, broken, in the main event of Kingdom Come.

    I had planned and plotted for months for that moment, where I proved to the world that I was undisputed. That no one could hold a candle to me. And yet it was I who was vanquished. And even more perverse, I did not care. It confused and confounded. My professional high was snatched away hardly after it had begun. Yet personally, something had changed. I was completed. And then… it began.

    Injury. I was done in by them time and again. In the midst of a gratifying Tag Team Championship reign with Celeste. Then at the hands of Chris K.O. in Tokyo. Then in training to return. And then it was over. I was devastated. I fell into obscurity professionally. I sought the services of monsters to act as my surrogate. But it never filled that professional emptiness. And all while this happened, life presented me an uncanny moment – the birth of Kinsey Holmes. My daughter.


    Considering his words, Holmes’ tongue pokes out gently, between his teeth, as he turns to his left, his eyes growing large and moist. He closes them, fighting back the emotion that is raging deep inside.

    Holmes: She was wonderful. A light in my life for the minimal time… while I never felt professionally satisfied, I could return home, be at ease with Celeste and with Kinsey. Never had I experienced such joy, such beauty and wonderment. It erased any lingering doubts I had about my career between the ropes. Even though I hadn’t gone out the way I had longed or intended, I was at peace.

    He opens his eyes. Composes himself, deep breath, back straight, head held high, looking squarely into the camera.

    Holmes: Kinsey was perfect in my eyes. A beautifully formed cherub, gifted to a devil like me, proving redemption was possible. She was tonic to my soul, proof that even the oldest and nastiest of villains can gain modicums of sincere happiness. But she was never a well girl. She was imperfect, flawed, and human. And ultimately, we are an ever so fragile species. She fought, tooth and nail, she demonstrated her mother’s courage and fierceness, she gave everything, she was brave…

    Tears forming as Holmes speaks, he bites his bottom lip, looks to the left again, sniffs as he knows these words reveal him totally, his personal torture and hell exposed for all.

    Holmes: She was a warrior. And even when she had tubes sticking out of her, living for her, we gave her everything we had, every ounce of energy, everything. But… it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t good enough. And now… she is no longer with us in this plane of existence. She has passed. Her time was fleeting but glorious. That loss is greater than any championship loss, than the end of a career, than anything. The loss of one’s own flesh and blood, of one’s own child? There are no words. It renders you catatonic. There is no pain greater.

    Tears are fully formed, flowing down Holmes’ sharp face

    Holmes: What is perhaps worst of all? I was not there for much of this brave little angel’s fight. I was off, gallivanting, trying to recreate the glories I had once held near and dear, failing to realise that true glory was slipping from my grasp. And when I did realise… it was too late. She was gone.

    Holmes takes out a handkerchief. He wipes the tears, yet still they come, relentless, a painful reminder of an anguish resurfacing. He persists, they slowly begin to subside. He sniffs hard as he continues.

    Holmes: How do you cope with that? How do you combat it? Frankly, you can’t. Nothing can prepare you for its magnitude. It’s soul shattering. You try and return to normality, but a piece of you, one you have poured your everything into, is gone. Forever.

    Sighing deeply, Holmes wipes those tears once more. He brushes his face with the handkerchief and puts it away swiftly. He clears his throat after a moment, and pushes on.

    Holmes: Celeste was stronger than I. She supported me. She forgave me, long before I could truly ever fathom forgiving myself. She assured me my presence was felt. My love noted, even if my physical presence was not. And I know it is lunacy to suggest that my being there would’ve made an inch of a difference, but by Christ if it doesn’t feel like it was I who failed her. And that destroyed me. Celeste rebuilt me. Piece by piece, she peeled me off the canvas and held me tight. And eventually, I held her back. And the gears in my head turned once more.

    This brave girl, this child, my child, my girl, she had fought so ferociously until the end, even at her young age. She was impassioned and fiery, just as her mother is. And though she faced the dying of the light, still she raged on. She tried, and while she is no longer with us, that fighting spirit, that way of the warrior lives on. It lives in her mother, and now, more than ever before, it lives in me.

    It was this that inspired me to seek the finest of sport-science, no matter the cost, no matter the sacrifice, the pain, the anguish. It was Kinsey who drove me on to return. Because she never saw her daddy fight, but by bloody God almighty himself if she hasn’t seen me tear this generation asunder at the Lethal Lottery, battle with legends and tangle with monsters anew. And now, she shall witness perhaps my fiercest fight.

    There is a fire in Holmes’ eyes, a rage. Such is its pure potency that it has dried the tears away. There is but an “Elite” warrior before the watching world.

    Holmes: This brings me to you, Xander… Triple X. We do go quite a ways back you and I. I remember well the shock, the horror of you upsetting me to claim the Elite Championship. You, the wholesome hero before a crowd hungry for change. I, the fiend who had ruled the division with an iron fist. I wouldn’t quite go so far as to say the roles are reversed, but we do live in interesting times, don’t we?

    You took the long way round to realise your potential. Years after that victory, you finally surpassed it, winning the Lethal Lottery, seizing a moment that you seemed destined for. I know how vindication feels. You are I from all those years ago. You’re tightening your grip on the gold, trying to establish dominance, power and grandiosity. You fail to realise that is not what that championship represents. It took me love, loss and a hell of a lot of hindsight to grasp that, so I empathise. But you fail to understand, and that failure will cost you dear my boy.


    The trademark fiendish smirk returns, wry and blatant.

    Holmes: You cost me the match with Kagura heading into this main event battle. That stings, of course it does, but it is a pitiful effort. You assaulted me afterward, leaving me battered and bruised. My body aches. Of course it does. But you fail to understand that nothing, and I mean nothing is going to stop me from seizing this opportunity, this one perfect, shining moment to overcome. To gain the redemption I have long sought, that I have pined for for years.

    I failed to appreciate the achievement of being the world’s champion years ago, just as you fail now. You think it’s about consolidating, about cementing yourself as the best. That isn’t the case. It isn’t about vindication or glory. It’s about proving to yourself, above all else, that everything you did was for something. It’s about a cause deeper than personal glories. For me, this is about proving my career was worth it, my return was worth it. This is about me thanking my wife. This about apologising to my daughter. This is about showing that little girl who her father really is.

    So on the grandest stag we have, before a worldwide audience of millions, I will demonstrate all my cunning, all my guile, and I will not stop, until every ounce of energy is drained, every drop of sweat has dropped out of my pours and all that I have to give is given. And when it is all said and done, I will stand proud, valiant and once more the new heavyweight champion of the world. And you? A footnote in history.

    This is my redemption. This is me redeeming myself for Kingdom Come, for deceiving Celeste, for failing Kinsey, and maybe even, for that upset you inflicted upon me all those years ago… Triple X.

    A cheeky wink from a now playful Holmes.

    Holmes: And at Kingdom Come, you will know, Aristocracy Reigns…

    He steps back, a little swagger in his step as we fade to black.

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    Junior Member BK201's Avatar

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    'Son, you're the Champ. Grab a fuckin' chair!'

    The Day Before
    Kingdom Come X



    The camera faded in, focusing solely on a close up of the interviews subject. It focused on his eyes, shifting down to the grin that encompassed the lower portion of his face.

    'You know, there's a parallel universe out there, where it's Triple X being interviewed as a multi-time World Champion. He's sitting here, in this seat, probably wearing a Slipknot t-shirt with converse on his feet, ripped jeans and seven colours in his hair. And he's happy. Happy to be going to Kingdom Come and happy to perform in front of the tens of thousands of people.'

    The smile faded; a deadly serious look in its place.

    'The only thing that world has in common with the real one?'

    The camera pulled out...


    ...revealing the belt on Xander's shoulder.

    'I'm the Champion of the god-damn World.'


    . . .


    One Week
    Ago




    'When you're twisting the arm, you wanna...snap down on it like that.'

    'AAAARGH!!!'

    'Yeah. That's right. Cry it out you little shit.'

    Geoff Kingsley pushed the student over to the corner of the ring. He bounced into the buckle, holding his arm tight. King turned to the class, a slightly sick smile on his face.

    'It hurts. It'll make you wanna quit, right there and then, and you'll wonder why no-one in the history of professional wrestling has ever submitted to an arm wringer.'

    He looked around the students; the young men and women in their sportswear all had worried looks, as if they had no idea what they'd stepped into . Kingsley smiled again.

    'That is because-'

    'It's because he'll beat the shit out of you until it feels like a slap on the wrist.'

    Kingsley looked behind the group, who all turned to find the source of the voice. Xander stood there in a smart navy suit, with the World Championship on his shoulder, with Talia by his side in a dark red flowy dress.

    'S'up King?'

    Kingsley smiled.

    'Looks like y'all have a treat here on this fine morning. It's not every day a World Champion walks through your door. Hey kid; you wanna get in here and show them how you use an arm wringer?'

    Xander smiled, shaking his head. But he obliged, passing a smiling Talia his World Championship before rolling into the ring. He threw his jacket over the ropes, rolling up his sleeves.

    'Lawson, take a break. Jenkins; in here! Take one from the Champ.'

    The kid Kingsley nearly ripped the arm off of rolled from the ring, and in slid a kid no older than eighteen, with a Bullet for my Valentine shirt, baggy shorts and blue hair.

    He held out his arm and Xander wasted no time, grabbing it, yanking it, before twisting it round. He had it just at the furthest it would spin, and threw a stiff forearm to the kids face.

    He rocked back, sliding down to the bottom turnbuckle, holding his face. The rest of the students all gasped, holding their own faces as if the pain had reverberated to them. Xander stood over the kid, emotionless.

    'That is the biggest lesson you need to learn. If you were paying attention you'd have seen the forearm coming a mile away.'

    He turned to the class outside the ring, leaning over the ropes.

    'Who gives a shit if you're training? Big fucking deal. You need to be ready for anything and you simply aren't. You're too focused on getting the technique right, making the move look nice, but you're missing the fundamentals. Make the fucker hurt. Cause pain, and get the win. Who gives a shit if the move is completely textbook?'

    He turned his head, looking at Kingsley who smiled back, nodding.

    'You're all sitting around, hoping to learn how to do the cool stuff. I can tell; you know why? I was the same. I wanted to know all the cool moves, do the impressive shit, but over ten years later and here I am, and I do what I need to do, and I win. And I won that.'

    Xander points over the ropes to Talia, who looked to the Championship on her shoulder.

    'Do your fucking job. Don't look to be a superstar. Look to be a winner.'


    . . .


    'The first time I met Steven Holmes was in the ring. 2012, on Ascension 45. Myself playing the plucky young rookie versus the midcard familiar. And I beat him for his Elite Championship on the first attempt, in what was only my fifth ever match in the company. An upset, sure, and I know it embarrassed him, but everyone and his dog knew I had at least something about me. What made that special was that no-one, and I mean no-one, saw it coming. Hell, I didn't. But I always believed. And you know the funny thing?'

    Xander leaned in closer to the off-camera interviewer.

    'I knew the fans believed in me, too.'


    . . .


    The shine of the gold centreplate reflected back, lighting up Kingsleys face. He smiled, passing it over to Xander.

    'I gotta hand it to you kid.'

    He patted him on the shoulder, before leaning on the ring apron.

    'You need to start taking it easy.'

    'And you need to mind your own damn business.'

    Xander laughed, and sat down on the mat. Kingsley shook his head laughing.

    'Son, you're the Champ. Grab a fucking chair.'

    He shook his head.

    'I'm always gonna be your student, King.'

    Kingsley smiled at the notion. He turned to Talia, who was in fact sitting on a chair.

    'Still this stubborn?'

    'You have no idea.'

    He shook his head again, still grinning.

    'Stubbornness has good and bad traits, kid. It's gotten you this far. But look what it did to you against Chris KO. You need to be so careful against guys like him, and your old buddy Holmes.'

    'What happened against Chris was an off-day. One I can't afford to have.'

    Talia leaned forward.

    'If you're going to have an off day though, it might as well be on Meltdown without the title on the line though, right?'

    Kingsley looked back round to her.

    'Your girl's got a point, kid.'

    He smiled.

    'Yeah, she's good at that.'

    'I'm serious.'

    She stood up, walking over to Xander, kissing him on the forehead, then on the lips.

    'When I perform in a play, if the dress rehearsal is all kinds of crap, it means the performance itself is ten times better than it has any right to be. Don't ask why, I don't know, but it happens.'

    'So...me losing to KO means I'll kick Holmes' ass?'

    '...basically.'

    'You...do remember he lost to Kagura on the same night, right?'

    Kingsley snorted.

    'That's some fucked up math, lady.'

    She turned, shooting Kingsley a look. He smiled.

    'Hey, I didn't say I didn't like it.'

    'Speaking of Kingdom Come...'

    Xander pushed himself off the ground, walking over to Kingsley.

    'You'll be there, right?'

    For the first time in a long time, Kingsley looked awkward, shuffling his feet slightly.

    'Xander, kid, I can't afford that. All the money I have is poured into this place. I'll be watching, sure, but-'

    'No, King, you don't understand...'

    Xander walked over to the ring, pulling his hanging jacket down from the top rope. He reached into the inside pocket, pulling out an envelope, handing it to Kingsley.

    '...you'll be there.'

    Kingsley narrowed his eyes at Xander, before methodically tearing the envelope open. He reached in, pulling out two tickets, front row. Emblazoned on the top; WZCW PRESENTS: KINGDOM COME X

    '...kid...'

    'Just fucking be there.'

    The old mans eyes watered.

    'You sappy prick.'

    'Old bastard.'

    The two hugged. Not like friends, not like mentor and student, but more like father and son.

    'Im proud of you, kid.'

    'Yeah...I'm proud of me too.'

    Kingsley pushed a smiling Xander away.. He walked slowly over to the chair Talia had been sitting on, lowering himself down. He wiped his brow, shaking his head.

    'Thank you.'

    'Thank Talia. Her idea.'

    He smiled at her. He beckoned her over, taking her hand, kissing it.

    'I thought you'd like it.'

    He smiled again, wiping his brow once again.

    'Okay, we gotta shoot. I promised mom we'd make our way over tonight. I'll see you at the big show!'

    Kingsley smiled back.

    'You will. And thank you...both of you.'

    Xander scooped the World Title belt from the floor and took Talia's hand; the two smiling back as they left, with Kingsley staring at the Kingdom Come X tickets.


    . . .


    'But the 2012 Elite Championship isn't the match I want to talk about. No.'

    Xander looked away for a moment, a smirk flashing across his face and disappearing just as fast. He looked to the ground as he spoke.

    'February 24th, 2013. All or Nothing.'




    The crowd is going wild as X looks around and then sees that Holmes is in perfect position. He does his best to crawl to the corner, ascend the turnbuckles slowly and perch himself on the top. He makes the sign of the cross as X performs the Firefly...

    ...

    ...

    ...

    ... as Holmes moves out of the way!

    Connors: He missed!

    Cohen: I think that might have been his last opportunity.

    Holmes clutches his entire body as the crowd watches on as Holmes slowly gets to his feet, brings up the crumpled heap of Triple X and finishes off "Old Yeller" with the Imperial Impaler. Holmes covers the body of X...

    ... 1

    ... 2

    Copeland: C'mon X!

    Cohen: He's done for.

    ... 3!

    The referee signals for the bell as the collective voices of the crowd are in shock and sadness that one of the most evil men they know has just been awarded a World championship opportunity. They let their voices be heard with boos from everywhere as Holmes stands to his feet with a smirk.

    Harrys: Here is your winner and the Number One Contender to the WZCW World Heavyweight Championship at the Lethal Lottery; Steven Holmes!


    Xanders eyes remained on the floor as the image returned to him, still smiling.

    'That's the moment. Right there. Sure, I went on to win the Eurasian Championship after this, but that was my chance. And that's the thing I've come to learn, Steven. Life is built on moments. Moments make us who we are; they define who we become. But you have to take them, grasp them, snatch them, because if you don't...well. Someone else will.'

    The camera zoomed back into his face as he looked up, which contorted into a scowl.

    'Like you took mine six years go. You won, you went on, and you beat Showtime Cougar and became the World Champion. Now, am I saying that 2013 Triple X had it in him to beat an all-time great like Showtime?'

    Xander held his arms out, with almost an apologetic grin.

    'Probably not. But honestly, there's one factor that could have helped him get across the line.'

    Xander pointed off camera.

    'The fans.'


    . . .


    The distant ringing pulled Xander out of his sleep. He pushed himself up to a seated position; Talia was flat out, half her body uncovered by the sheets while she softly slept. Xander picked his phone up from the sideboard. 03.11am, and an unknown number.

    'H...hello?' he spoke through a yawn.

    Talia sturred, pulling the sheets back to cover herself as she watched Xander on the phone. It took a secodn for her to realise the colour draining from Xanders face.

    'I'm on my way.'

    He dropped the phone on the floor, swinging out of bed, grabbing the nearest clothes.

    'Shit Xander, what??'

    'It's King.'

    'Oh fuck.'

    Talia threw the sheets back off, throwing on the nearest track pants and vest she could find, before following Xander out the door.


    . . .


    'I'm no idiot. I know exactly where some of my early success came from. Those people; when they cheer, it gives you ten extra gears. It fills you full of super soldier serum, and makes you think you can conquer the world. They make it so you can conquer the world. And for the longest time I knew that. I relied on it. I embraced it. Then...'

    Xander looked back to the ground, an almost sorrowful expression etched into his features.

    '... you took them away from me.'


    . . .



    A thin mist had enveloped around the cemetery, giving the whole area a grey tone. The plot was surrounded by people Xander didn't fully recognise, but he knew who most of them were. The older men and women were some of Kings comrades in arms; the people he wrestled with and against back in the day. Some looked in a bad way, with at least two in wheelchairs, while others looked like they were doing well. The younger ones; students, some of which Xander again knew. A mix between people he'd seen on the circuit, and others he trained with.

    At the front of the seats, Xander saw a picture someone had chosen...

    Click for Spoiler:


    He smiled, leaning into Talia.

    'He fucking hated that picture.'

    He exchanged pleasantries with a few of the older ones, along with a married couple who had met in Xanders class, before taking his seat next to Talia. They sat there, Xander in a black suit with Talia in a black dress, as the priest began to talk.

    Nothing he said mattered to Xander. His mentor, Geoff Kingsley was gone.


    . . .


    'And ever since you took them away, it was never the same. They had hope, they had dreams that I could win the big one, so that one day, just maybe, even they could go on and achieve greatness. I was their hope, their surrogate. They lived, vicariously, through my achievements. And you fucking stole it.'

    Xanders fist rested on his knee, clenched tightly into a ball. He took a breath, releasing it.

    'I was no longer their choice. I would do, sure. If no-one else was around. But I wasn't the name on everyones lips. Hell, the next time I even touched a Championship opportunity was after I realised this. But Steven, lets be clear. You screwed me out of that opportunity all of those years ago. You, and your brother. And you stole, my chance, my Championship, the fans, everything. And for what? You pissed it away at the next Pay Per View. You were a paper CHampion, Steven. A one hit wonder.'

    He reached off camera, taking a sip from a glass of water.

    'But do I blame you for taking your opportunity? No. That would be hypocritical. No, instead I blame you for choosing to take it against me, Steven. Because everything has a price, and the devil comes due. And now, after all this time you walk back in to this company a beaten, broken down has-been and never-again-will-be, in an attempt to regain the glory of days gone by at my expense?'

    He launched the glass off-camera, the smash echoing around the room.

    'FUCK YOU.'


    . . .


    'At this time, I'd like to call Alexander Knight to say a few words.'

    Talia released her grip from Xanders arm, rubbing his back as he stood. He looked back at her red, glassy eyes and smiled to reassure her. He walked over to the priest, facing the crowd. He took a breath, thinking long and hard before beginning.

    'Jackson King. That's how I knew him first. Not as Geoff, but as the technical, hard hitting dude that was a mainstay in the American wrestling scene for years. He never won a World Championship, yet what he did win is reflected by the people whoa re out here today. He won respect. And that is something much more valuable than Championship titles.'

    Xander cleared his throat, looking back out.

    'I never knew what it was like to be punched in the face until I met Geoff Kingsley. That sounds like an odd way to start, but please indulge me. King would call us all into the ring, and in the middle of showing us something he just...waffle us. It was his way of showing us that we needed to be prepared for anything, no matter what we were doing. "Be ready for a meteor strike even if you're on a beach in Barcelona" was one of his lines he'd say. And he would kick my ass, and there would be days I would wonder whether I could take it. I'd doubt what he was doing was right.'

    Xander looked towards his feet, taking another deep breath.

    'I stand here today the man I am because of him. I don't doubt a thing, because I get it. Life isn't fair. Life sucks, and it's up to us to find the bright spots. No matter what we need to do.'

    He looked around. Old timers and young beginners alike were smiling, nodding.

    'King didn't want to just teach people, he wanted to prepare them. And he did. I've never met a single person who knew him that didn't fall deeply in love with that gruff exterior. Because for all his faults, all his aggressive words, all the elbows, kicks and punches, he cared. He cared so much. And he wanted to make sure no-one could ever hurt us more than he did. He wanted to make sure we were as prepared as could be, and for that I thank him, and will miss him.'

    Xander looked overto the grave, feeling a tear escape from his eye.

    'Though I gotta say, King, this fucking hurts.'


    . . .


    'You don't get to walk into my story and take my spot. You don't get to come and carry on, as if I'm some afterthought. No, I've been there, and you will never, ever get the chance to do that to me again. Do you understand that, Holmes? Never again.'


    . . .


    'How you holding up?'

    Talia took Xanders hand, as he stood looking down into the grave. The Coffin sat at the bottom; white and red roses littering the lid.

    'He was so proud of you, you know? And still is, wherever he is.'

    Xander nodded.

    'And he wouldn't want you to wallow. He'd want you to carry on. If not for you, for him.'

    Silent tears rolled down Xanders eyes. She smiled a soft smile as she stared at him, before returning her gaze to the coffin.

    'He knew you could do it, babe. And so do I.'

    She kissed him on the cheek, letting his hand go, as she left him to his thoughts of one of the greatest men he ever knew.


    . . .


    'I'm done with letting that memory haunt me. I'm done with letting the past shackle me down. You are the dragon I need to slay, and so help me Steven I will slay you the fuck down, put my foot on your chest and send you back out of the company where you belong. I'll slay you for the other me you stole the chance from. That parallel version of myself, who never fell out of love with the people, and who the people never felt the need to turn on. I'll fucking do it for them. I'll hold that Champion, and become more than the place holder you were, and you won't, will not, take this moment. I will hold this up high...'

    Xander held the World Title from his shoulder up high.

    '...as still the World Heavyweight Champion.'

    He lowered the Championship, staring into the centre plate. He looked back up, staring into the camera.

    'Lethal Lottery...X. Kingdom Come...X. Coincidence? Not a God-damn chance. You chose the wrong time to come back, Holmes. You came back in the middle of the Age of X. And it isn't fading away anytime soon.'


    . . .


    He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the Kingdom Come tickets. He stared at them intently, tears joined by soft rainfall dropping down onto the paper. He crouched down, kissing the ticket, before throwing it into the grave, landing on top of the coffin

    See you there, King.


    . . .


    Xander stood, staring down at the camera; hate in his eyes as if Holmes were right in front of him.

    'In contrast to your comeback Steven; it's only just begun.'
    Last edited by BK201; 10-19-2019 at 06:17 PM.

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