"Too Late..."

“What do you want from your life, Bryan?”

This wasn't the first time that Persephone had asked him this question. Wasn't the first time that anyone had asked him this question, by now he was used to it.

Used to the idea of not having an answer.

Bryan never really knew what was worse, the lack of an answer or the constant question always being asked.

“Bryan, what are you going to do?”

Persephone asked him again, shouting across the dinner table. He stared at his plate, empty as usual. The two had just had a fight earlier, the word fight being used very loosely here. It was mainly just Persephone overreacting about the lack of a Tiger in their home.

A few days and several divorce threats later, and here they were.

Stuck at another crossroads.

“I don't ask to be a bitch, but I know how much you don't care about this anymore. Your training has taken a dip this year, you aren't the same guy anymore.”

Bryan sneered, but she was right.

2019 wasn't Bryan's year, not at least for Bryan Williams. He had seen other Bryans flourish, doing plenty well on their own. What did Bryan have to show for himself?

A one-off victory over Artemis Kaiser, who was on her way out.

Sure, a nice feather in his cap. Nothing to put on his shelf though.

Bryan sat there in silence, still unsure of how to answer. No matter what he changed about himself, what gimmicks he added. If he grew his hair or cut it, nothing helped his feelings. The impending sense of dread that had been following him all year.

Was this it for him?

Had he gone past his expiration date; was it time to hang it up?

Persephone reached out towards him, the first sign of warmth in a while. Carefully she slid out of her chair, sitting in his lap as she put her arm around him.

“You don't need this. You've done enough, we don't even need the money, Bryan.”

“It's not about the money.”

The response took her by surprise, only because he had been silent for so long.

“Then what, what is it about?!”

Exasperated, Persephone's arm falls to her side as she stands by his. Bryan stares at the plate for a moment.

Thinking.

Wondering.

What is this about anyway? What is really left to prove out there?

So what, you didn’t win the 4CW Championship. So what, you couldn’t replicate the success of 2016 all over again.

Bryan looks up from the table, Persephone stands there waiting for an answer.

“There’s still much left to be done. My work isn’t over yet.”

Persephone rolls her eyes, huffing as she makes her way towards the living room. There Junior is waiting, jumping up on the couch they’ve tried many times to prevent her from doing so. Persephone sits down, looking at her favorite dog. She tries to comfort it, knowing full well that she's just doing it for herself.

“Bryan…”

Her words fall flat and fade away.

“Look, let me just try this out. If it doesn’t work, then I’ll have a whole new year to figure out what I want to do. I need to do this, just let me have this Persephone.”

She shakes her head

“It’s not me that you have to convince, Bryan. You know that, I support whatever you decide to do. It’s not me that you’re trying to convince right now anyway.”

Taking her pet under one arm, the toy dog watches as she and Persephone both leave the living room and head towards the bedroom. Bryan stays seated, sitting at the dining table.

She was right.

He wasn’t trying to convince her.

The apartment was dark now, it felt empty and cold. Almost like she had gone away again, but she was only in the other room. Who knows how long he had been there, thinking it all over. Eventually, he had to get up, he had to do something else.

Moping wasn’t going to fix anything about this situation. Being unsure wasn’t the biggest disadvantage either.

Bryan walked to the hallway closet, the one that had the box in it.

His stuff, leftover from a time when it mattered more.

Looking down at everything, all stuffed within that cardboard box made him feel quite silly. His gear looked strange in there, especially the rooster mask. It had been a while, he thought to himself, as he pulled the mask from the box.

He did know one thing, as silly as it looked it definitely felt good in his hands.

Like it belonged.

Maybe he did belong, still.

And maybe not.

With a heavy sigh, Bryan put the box back into the closet. It wasn’t quite time yet, he wouldn’t be needing it at this moment.

No, Bryan would enjoy the holidays. Let Christmas and his birthday come, and he would relax as it all went down. It would be wise to take this time for himself. Enjoy some peaceful moments before things got really bad.

Before he would need that box again.





It’s been a while.

I don’t ever remember hearing about a show like this, but there’s nothing on the television right now anyway. What, are you going to sit and watch another episode of Live PD? Maybe a South Park rerun you’ve seen about twenty times before?

I don’t think you’ll be watching any horror movies starring professional wrestlers either, it’s too late at night!

No, sit back and enjoy the show. Don’t mind that static, and those glitches are just a temporary hiccup.

Everything’s going to be as right as rain in just a few moments. You hear it, don’t you? That familiar-but-not-quite-familiar jazz tune that brings us into the show. The one that plays over the clips of stock footage as the announcer tells us who’s going to be guest starring tonight?

Ah, damn, it looks like we missed it. That’s okay, stay for the opening monologue at least.



There he is! Bryan Williams walking out onto the stage, wearing a very traditional suit for his hosting duties tonight. Something really classy, very lowkey with how it looks. It almost makes him look like he was plucked out of the primetime night-show hosting days. I bet he could fit right in with the best of them.

Bryan slowly steps out onto the stage, the audience applauding away as he takes a bow. The band is just finishing up their song, as they played him in for his entrance. All climaxing with a big drum solo finish.

The audience doesn’t miss a beat, their applause quickly dies down as Bryan thanks them for coming out. Like a good host was.

We get a really nice shot of the crowd, as the camera cuts to the back of Bryan. Mannequins packed in every seat.

It’s a packed house tonight.

“Yeah, you’re just shitposting now.”

The audience laughs, the camera cuts as it still hasn’t changed. The lights go out on one side of the crowd, as the camera cuts back to Bryan.

“It’s been a while since I haven’t been a joke. Don’t expect me to go dancing down any steps though, it isn’t really my style.”

A nice little drum riff to accompany the joke, a nice touch I might add.

The monologue has started, and Bryan is in full hosting mode.

“But let me explain myself here, we’ve got a big event coming up people. Guerrilla Warfare, did you hear about this? Yeah, twenty people all trying to become the next Union Battleground Champion. What a delight, am I right?”

The audience cheers, they gotta clap for that one.

“Yeah, I think people are saying I have the same odds as Josh Gordon does getting back into the NFL at this point.”

Bryan winces, really selling the joke as the audience laughs it up. We even get a silly baseline from the band! What a very topical joke!

“I think the drive is gone folks, maybe the talent isn’t there anymore. Don’t expect pity, not from any of them. What, just because I left one of the biggest shows in town that means I need to hang it up? Most would tell me to get over it, don’t let anything go to waste. A few would laugh, schadenfreude for all the times I’ve been a complete asshole. I must deserve this, I probably deserve this.

I couldn’t ever make it anyway, not to the top at least. I was good enough for a few things, but getting that 4CW Championship was just too far out of reach. Am I not good enough?”

The audience doesn’t seem to agree, they don’t like that question either.

“Too many names that make me question if I’m good enough. They got their nameplate, but I never did. I never could.

Oh, so I guess Union is just a nice little consolation prize? Something to ease the pain of being a loser?”

Oh man, Bryan is certainly losing them now. They boo, hissing at Bryan and his negativity. The camera cuts behind Bryan again, and with a wave of his hand the lights above the audience go off.

They get silent.

Fuzz and static fill the scene, and we cut to Bryan sitting behind the desk on stage. Of course, nothing looks the same, you know the deal by now. There’s dust everywhere, it looks like this place was packed up sometime in the 70s.

Bryan kicks his feet up on the desk, relaxing in a very worn lime green chair.

“Wouldn’t surprise me to see you lose that one too, sign up for the big championship match and we’ll see you just throw it all away again. You’ll choke, and end up getting eliminated before you could even make a difference. Yeah, I can already see the bullshit coming from a mile away. All of my doubters, and my opponents for this match. I can already predict it all coming my way.”

Bryan’s tone grows more mockingly.

“This is who you are now, Bryan Williams.

This is who you have been.

These are the people that don’t stand behind you.”

The camera spins around, showing an empty audience now. Not a single mannequin left. The camera cuts back to Bryan, as he continues talking.

“I can see them, I hear them every day. There’s always something to laugh about, something else to comment on. I haven’t worried about that in a long time, I guess it all became part of who I am. Don’t worry, I don’t feel too bad for myself. Not much of a pariah anyway, nor would I ever consider myself one. No, I’m just a fool who’s made one too many mistakes in this business. Somebody who could have done something, probably. Maybe a long time ago, but for right now I’m just another body. Another name to keep the list nice and long, twenty people deep. They had to have somebody around to keep it even, why not Bryan Williams?

I guess you’re thinking that I’m pretty upset with what happened against Will. Look at him now, he’s got a championship match without much pressure. Now that’s the way to do it, Bryan. I can already hear them telling me.”

He shakes his head, slipping deeper into comfort as he sits back even further in his chair. His hands pressed to the back of his head.

“But in all honesty, I don’t want anything else right now.

I want chaos, truthfully.”

The audience laughs again.

“In my head, at this moment, there is a cavalcade of emotions pouring through like a great dam opening up. I can’t pick from anything solid, nothing tangible at the moment. I don’t even know if I really want to be in this business for much longer. That changes every day, and frankly, I’m too tired to really figure it out. I’ve made my commitment, and in doing so I’ve been given a shot.

A chance at becoming the new Union Battleground Champion. All I, and nineteen others, have to do is win the third Guerrilla Warfare match. No big deal, right?

You’ve been in clusterfucks before, what’s the harm of adding another one to the list?”

Bryan shrugs, breaking the comfort he was living in to exaggerate his point. A huge full-body shrug, something to really play it up to the cameras.

His feet come down off the desk, slamming into the ground like lead weights. Bryan leans forward, almost like he’s telling the camera a big secret.

“I honestly don’t mind it, I don’t mind being thrown right into this crazy pit of chaos. I can already feel the energy surrounding it, it’s quite palpable. Like a day with heavy humidity, I feel it all hanging around me.

I can embrace it, besides I don’t think I’ll be doing anything more interesting on the twenty-ninth. I can head down to ol’ Norfolk, and catch a little bit of disorder before the end of the new year.

I look at the people that will be in this match, and I’m not impressed. I’m not scared, and I’m not surprised. All names I expected to see here, in Union. People I’ve been expecting to face, and I’m fine with that. Get them all in one spot, so I can look at them all in the eye before we go to war. It’s easier that way.”

A smaller shrug this time, Bryan standing up from behind the desk to survey the broken down stage around him. He looks more interested in it than talking right now, especially about his dumb ol’ opponents in this match.

How boring.

Bryan even rolls his eyes.

“Don’t expect me to run down every name on this list, I’m not a child. I don’t need to make a little note for every single competitor that I might face. Granted, there are some people I would really love to kick in the face. AJ Morales definitely has one coming, I’m going to hit him so hard he’ll be a Lakers fan before the ref can count to three. I know Nikolas will be a handful, and so will Fallon Lockhart. Honestly, the list can go on here but that’s boring.”

He waves the thought off and honestly, I do not blame him.

You don’t want to be stuck here for hours, as Bryan rattles off insults for every single person that steps through those ropes. It might even be pointless, Bryan might not even SEE all of his opponents.

How crazy would that be?

“And this is all about me.”

Of course, he’s right you know.

“Right now, nobody else matters. I don’t care who shows up in this match, I’m only in this for myself.

I may as well be the only one that has my back at this point. But I’m fine with that, and really it’s the only support that I truly need.”

Bryan walks over to the smaller seat on the stage, the one set up for the side-host. The guy that’s always there to crack jokes, and add nothing to the interviews. Bryan picks the chair up, tossing it off the stage.

“So, let’s have at it. If this is it for me, if I am really washed up here, I’d like to go out on my shield. I’d like to go out fighting, swinging with the best of them.

Win-win, right? I mean, here’s a chance to prove myself again. Here’s a little time to show what I got, to see if I can still make something of myself. If I don’t it isn’t a big deal, and I could just figure out where to go from there. Maybe hang it all up, who knows? Don’t place your bets just yet, I haven’t even stepped out from behind that curtain just yet. There’s still no way of knowing anything that’s going to come up.”

How exciting, and mysterious!

“Here’s what I do know, twenty competitors, total. I have to face off with nineteen other people, with a new person being introduced every ninety seconds. At least I don’t have to worry about somebody coming in and tossing me over the top, not in this match. No, this is even more of a test of your endurance. Eliminations only come by pinfall or submission, which means the longer you stay in this match the worse it gets.

Time goes on, and your body begins to take more and more punishment. If there was ever a match that time wasn’t on your side, it would be this one.”

Little fun fact for everyone watching out there, Bryan hops back over to his desk. Or what’s left of it anyway.

Again, his feet prop back up as he’s in his comfort zone.

“You break down, your mind definitely starts to go. That is if it already hadn’t before. That’s a real test if I have ever heard of one. You win this match, and you’ve definitely made it in Union.

But Bryan Williams can’t do that, right?”

Bryan laughs.

Loudly.

He slaps his leg, it almost seems like he’s forcing the laugh at this point but I’ll let him have his fun. Guy certainly needs it at this point anyway.

“Maybe I don’t need to outlast nineteen other competitors, maybe I just need to outlast a few. A couple of people, already tired and beat up. Maybe I get lucky, and I’m one of the last to make it out there.

It doesn’t matter how you win in this business, the only thing that matters is that you win. People only remember what you did lately. They don’t care that you were a two-time 4CW Pride Champion. They don’t care that you made it to the finals of Bad Company twice, winning it once. They don’t care that you single-handedly won a War Games match for your company, leaping off the top of a cage to sacrifice your body for the greater good.”

Bryan looks to the empty audience, and back towards the camera.

“Nobody cares.”

They don’t.

“They only want to see results, the fans only want to cheer for a winner. And I don’t blame them, I’m not coming here to prop myself up on past accolades.”

No trophies here to tout, or carry around with him this time. Bryan is all alone, on a dark and empty set.

“Victories and losses, none of that matters to me right now. I’m only worried about getting the job done, stepping into that ring and beating whoever stands in my way. However it has to happen doesn’t matter, it just has to happen.”

He smacks the desk, really grabbing your attention here.

“I need it to.”

Folks, he needs it to happen.

“I can’t think of a reason to keep being in this business, and maybe that’s my fault. I know there will be plenty of people that would love for me to pack it up. A lot just wants me to go. Even more, would probably prefer that I wouldn’t waste my time with this chance.

But I don’t care anymore.

I’m here now, and it’s the only thing I’m going to do. I’m walking into this Guerrilla Warfare match to start chaos. I’m going to introduce destruction and mayhem, and along the way maybe I’ll figure something out.”

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe fuck yourself.

“Maybe I’ll outlast you all, and walk away as the new Union Battleground Champion.

Maybe I won’t, and maybe I’ll have to figure out where to go from there.

But until that time comes, I’m getting ready. I’m going to head to Virginia, and I’m going to make a big mess out of this whole thing.

In a way, it feels comforting knowing that. I’ve set my goal now, I’ve made my peace with what is about to come. Do I need to prove anything?

No, not to any of you.”

Bryan smirks, standing up as he moves towards the center of the stage. The camera follows him the whole time, and a spotlight illuminates the room as it shines down on him.

“None of you could even hold half the talent in my body anyway, so I’ve got nothing left to prove to anyone. I’m going to do this one for me, for my own amusement.

I’m going to walk into that match for myself, and just see what happens.”

A shrug.

“Maybe I can pull off a miracle? Maybe not.

It doesn’t matter anyway. What matters is that I’m doing it, and I’m showing up. Take it how you want to take it, I don’t give a shit.”

He puts his hands in his pockets, I think he’s about to finally finish up this monologue folks.

“Bryan Williams doesn’t need to figure it out. Not yet at least.”

Bryan smiles, suddenly the lights are back on in the studio. We see some static, and suddenly we can hear the crowd again. The audience has roared back to life.

The color is back in the set, everything looks bright and new. Bryan waits as the applause dies down, one last thing to say.

“No, I just have to show you all what comes next.”

And with that, we head to commercial.