Cortes/Marlowe Vs. Steel/Quinn

"You lying so low in the weeds



I bet you gonna ambush me



You'd have me down, down, down on my knees



Now wouldn't you, Barracuda?"





What feeds me destroys me. The thrill of the chase for these tag titles I now hold dear, a chase I ran gaily with no thought for the legs carrying me. No thought for the man at my left, who tumbled and fell behind me. And now every title defense, I find myself having to push twice as hard to get half as far. I hear The Monstimals every time my back crashes against the mat. A hobbit, they cry, a half-man! All behold and jeer at this fool, this child, who dared to think he could stand among men, nose to nose with giants, face to face with gods and titans. He will pay the price, of course. He knows this himself - they say knowingly - Marlowe is a playwright. He knows that in Act I Faust soars, he sees the world from impossible heights and enjoys luxuries and sin no other can afford. But Act I doesn't last forever. He knows this. He knows that a deal with the devil has its consequences. He knows the devil wants his due.

Catherine - Catalina - has deigned to extend her hand to me in my time of need. Adrift and marooned after the loss of my partner, I would have clung to any driftwood that came my way. No matter that the wood is rotten and soaked, unfit for building. No matter that I can feel the termites crawling up my sleeve. No matter my arm is starting to itch. I am grateful for Catalina, no matter what happens. Any port in a storm, any light in the darkness - that's what I would have said. Without Zed, I am nothing. That's what I felt.

This fool. This child.

Zed was a child once too. Innocent, naive - until his father beat it out of him. He told me that much. He told me that he'd been running his whole life, that maybe forty years was distance enough. Maybe he'd finally escaped, he could settle down here and build a life. Perhaps his father hadn't beat all of the good out of him after all. He won the championship - without me. I regret that I wasn't as happy for him as he deserved. He was just trying to do the right thing. Just trying to help me. And then his neck collided with a steel guardrail. Champion no more. Partner no more. Friend no more?

Often, increasingly often, I look at Zed Hotley and wonder who he is now. Beneath his neck brace, a wound is festering. Behind his eyes, there's...something. Or perhaps there is nothing. I don't know which is worse. I worry that the man who arrived in 2019 with me, the only man capable of understanding my predicament, I worry he isn't there anymore. I'm a man of the theatre. I know the difference between Zed Hotley and a man playing Zed Hotley. I'm aware of something building. I'm aware of something ending. Something changing. And I think it might be Act I.











I Let The Old Devil In


I remember everything. I remember every single thing, every single day.

The opening to Walter Sickert's 'Whole Way Down' begins to blare out of the speakers and the crowd rise to their feet, craning their necks towards the stage. Suddenly, a spotlight.

I'm somewhere. Here. Hidden. Deep in The Darkness. Muffled, muted, suffocated. But I'm not drowning. Not anymore. I've learned to live in it. I've learned to swim in it.

Kelly Carmichael: This match is a CAREER vs. CAREER Match! Introducing first, from Green Bay, Wisconsin, weighing in at two hundred and thirty-nine pounds...

I just haven't learned how to get out of it.

Terra Skye: Well shit, now it's time for career vs. career. I feel like we should specify that the loser doesn't just leave Carnage, they leave wrestling entirely.

For a long time, I just kept swimming deeper. I thought one day I'd make it the whole way down.

GI eyes both men as he gets in the ring, still with a slight limp on his heavily braced knee. The maskless Redemption looks distraught but he charges forward anyway, hoping to get GI out of the ring before any damage is done. GI throws his still-healing leg in the air and kicks Redemption in the mouth with the brace! Redemption sputters and stumbles into the ropes, as GI winces putting his leg down. As Redemption turns back around, GI swings the sledgehammer down right into Redemption's bad knee! Redemption falls to the ground holding his leg as security has already spilled into the ring.

Sometimes I feel something. A twinge in my knee. And I think - here it is, my second chance. But it passes. Once I thought I'd never fall.

JC stares down at Redemption, who is holding his knee in agony, before seizing his ankles. JC steps over and sits in deep, locking Redemption down in his own Gesture of Friendship. Redemption lets out a scream, clawing at the canvas to pull himself towards the ropes, only for JC to purposely lower his center of gravity.

People say I'm like a zombie. They say "Drake, you've been zoned out a while, anything to add?", "Drake, you alright? Where were you?" Where was I? I say. I smile.

Redemption's knee buckles sideways, entirely blown out and no longer hinged.

I'm here.

Redemption nods to Referee Rey, who pushes JC away, Redemption's broken husk left in the center of the ring.

Kelly Carmichael: HERE IS YOUR WINNER.....JC! Therefore, Redemption MUST RETIRE!

I'm always here.

"Uh...Mr. Munday?"

I've been staring out of the car window for the past ten minutes. Staring at nothing. Or was that a silhouette?

"Mr Munday?" Louder.

"I'm here." I say. I smile. I look at the two men sat opposite me. The limo drives on.

"The...man you're both looking for." I manage eventually. "Vladimir."

"You know where he is?" Tocino leans forward.

"I know where he will be." I say. "I'm an investor, a shareholder in his company. It's being funded by...He got the money from...an old friend of mine."

"Who?"

"There's a conference. In August, pandemic permitting." I continue. "I can get you in."

"You want to help us bring down Basarab?" Tyrone frowns. "But why? I thought you were evil."

I shrug. "Not all evil was created equal. Some people are just cunts."



II Hot Topic



The crew is well-accustomed to ‘Hotley Time’ by now, so when he shows up on time they’re caught off-guard. They’re still setting up.

“You said 11am.” He says, when questioned. He’s wearing a neck brace with a picture of Queen Elizabeth II on it.

Derek hauls a tripod over his shoulder. “Sure. But that usually means you show up at 1:30, hungover.”

Zed likes Derek. They’d be about the same age if Hotley hadn’t fallen through a time vortex and skipped forty years. They give each other shit, they tell each other to ‘Fuck Off’ constantly. Apparently these things are desirable in a modern friendship, Marlowe wouldn’t know.

But today, Zed doesn’t rise to Derek’s jibes. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention, drinking from a water bottle and looking without seeing at the bustle in front of him. Marlowe approaches.

“Good to see you, friend.” Marlowe extends his hand and Hotley shakes it. “I was worried you might not…that you wouldn’t – “

“Ah, what would you do without me? Who’s going to cut your promos?” Zed shakes his head, his neck seems a little less stiff today. “Catalina? She can barely speak English.”

I could say the same about thou, he thinks. Marlowe hasn’t seen much of Hotley lately. A few months ago Zed through a lockdown party and convince him to drink two bottles of hand sanitiser.

“Tastes like my Father’s moonshine.” Marlowe had remarked. It had made him wistful, homesick, and then just sick. There’d been a lot of people at the party Kit hadn’t known. Party people, he was told. Folks from the Baltimore Rave Scene. People found in the same haunts and nightclubs that Zed had long frequented. All friendly, all breezy, all seemingly distracted.

At the time, Kit had been glad Zed was making friends in the city. At the time.

They’re ushered away while the crew finishes the set. The CW logo behind them is askew, and a man is desperately trying to lock it in place for the promo. Derek might be Zed’s friend, not his, but Marlowe is the patron saint of stagehands.

“Good morning, Mr Marlowe.” They all say as they pass. He’s taken time to know all of their names, and a fact or two about their lives. He likes stagehands, they’re the same in London’s great theatres as they are in the lowliest of country inns. They’re the same in 1590 as they are in 2020.

“Catalina couldn’t make it today.” He explains to Hotley, who didn’t ask. “She’s streaming.”

“There are bathrooms here.” Zed replies, his mouth smiling, his eyes watching Derek climb a ladder to affix a light.

Marlowe forces a snort. “Yeah.” He says. Then can’t think of anything else. “Yeah.”

“Are we – “ Hotley starts a question, toying with the cap on his water bottle. He flicks at it idly. “Never mind.”

Marlowe suspects he’ll spend a lot of time wondering what that question would have been one day.

“Alright, when you guys are ready.” Derek is in front of him.

The stage is set.



III Z



They can’t decide where they want Hotley to stand, in front of his client – behind or to the side.

“He’s not my client.” Hotley says quietly. “We’re partners.”

“Of course.” The cameraman holds up a hand apologetically, Hotley doesn’t know his name.

“I’m injured, not retired.”

“My apologies.”

“And I never actually lost my half of the tag title, so – “

“We’ll count you in whenever you’re ready.”

“Well, get on with it then.”

A red light blinks three times. Hotley stares it down like the enemy that it is. Action.

“Falls count anywhere…And they’ve never counted more. This time last year, Marlowe & I weren’t even the card. And now we – Marlowe is going in as a champion. That’s how relentless he is. Too small, they called him. Too weird. A charisma vacuum, the weak link? That’s what they all called him and yet he’s the one holding gold right now. And I’m gonna be right there with him.”

Hotley pats Marlowe on the back with force.

“Trent Steel, ZQ – they’re two of the scariest, baddest motherfuckers on the roster.” He goes on. “No quit in either of them – and when it comes down to it, no morals or remorse either. I have no doubt in my mind – no doubt – that they are going to put Marlowe and his co-champion through the damn ringer. And if Marlowe survives, he will be broken, bruised, battered – a husk of a man –“

“Um…” Marlowe opens his mouth.

“But at the end of it…” Hotley seizes the title from Marlowe and pushes it toward the camera. “This will still belong to us. Because Kit Marlowe and I? We Are Relentless.”

Afterwards, while Zed collects his stuff, Marlowe approaches.

“A fine soliloquy.” He says, and adds after Zed’s questioning expression. “Great promo.”

“Yeah? I thought it was a bit cookie cutter. Going through the motions.” Zed shrugs. “Whatever. If you liked it.”

Marlowe nods, though he’s not sure why. “So, did you want to –“

He hasn’t finished the question before Zed starts apologising. “Sorry, I told Cynthia I’d – “

“Cynthia?”

“Just a friend.” Zed waves a hand dismissively. “Some other time, after the show, maybe? Call me. I’ll see you.”

“Yeah.” Marlowe says. “See you.”