▶Twice in a lifetime.
The air was already stiflingly hot, even at this early hour. The sun had only just crept over the horizon, bathing the gently rippling waters in stunning warm golden sunlight. After all this time, all that he had gone through, everything he had endured. Danny couldn’t help but feel grateful to be home. Well, one of his homes, anyway.
Anthropolis already felt that it was something he had dreamt up. The memories fading like a dream you tried to recall over a cup of morning coffee. The more he tried, the further they got. He found himself wondering if that was a side effect of the great reset or just his years of therapy giving him a helping hand. It really didn’t matter either way; that was then, and this was now. Now was good.
Now had the sunrise over these Philippine waters. Now had the cold glass of lemon iced tea that rested in his hand. Now had his creature comforts. His homes, his money, his finer choices in life. Going back to roughing it for a few months was great nostalgia and all, but Danny B wasn’t a desert warrior, he wasn’t an usurper of controlling overlords, he wasn’t an unwilling pawn in someone else’s game.
He was the Lord God King Emperor of the world he had built for himself.
He’d missed that.
So, dear reader. You might ask yourself a question. If this is everything, if this is his perfection, why oh fucking why was he about to start the long journey back to the United States, back to the Colloseum, back to the CWF?
The timeline may be different, the setting more familiar, but one thing remained the same. He wasn’t a man who appreciated being overlooked. It was time to change that once and for all.
**//**
“Are you due to fuck off again any time soon?” Claudia asked as the two of them walked out into the elevator that would take them away from Danny’s New York City Penthouse and down into the streets. He had promised her that when he got back to the States, he would take her out for sushi. It was a tradition for them and one that, if he was honest, he was really looking forward to.
“You’re stuck with me for a little while yet darl.” Danny retorted, his lips curling into his trademark smirk.
“Shame, it was really quiet without you. Got time to catch up with my sister, worked on my guitar skills, didn’t have some world-ending vendetta to be party to.” She gave as good as she got, one of the things that he really loved about her.
Getting older hadn’t dulled her wit. He’d been there with her as she had grown from a wild child firecracker to a mature and well-rounded firecracker. That bit was never going to change, it seemed. Good. That was the bit that kept him in check.
What he couldn’t get used to was her coming across so grown-up. There was a time in what felt like only yesterday that she would have attended dinner, a job interview and a concert in the same denim shorts and fishnet shirt. So, this deep purple pantsuit ensemble was a new one. Although, to her credit, she had decided that the slightly oversized jacket was formal enough and left the blouse in the closet.
Their walk to their traditional upscale sushi joint was a pleasant one, and passed without incident. As usual, as soon as Danny stepped in the door, he was shown to his favourite by the window. He had entertained many a client and wooed many a date at this very table, but sitting down with family was always the best and she would always be family to him.
The first course made its way to the table soon after; there was no need to order on a chef’s choice tasting menu after all, and inevitably, the conversation turned to the future. They’d spent the previous 24 hours discussing what had happened, what he could recall or explain anyway, but now she was as curious as many a fan would be.
“So, Golden Intentions. Thoughts?”
He looked up at her through the golden hairs that had fallen in front of his face. He took a moment to smooth them back to the top of his head, allowing his fingertips to feel the scars that patterned his head. In contrast to his usual self, he took a moment to think about his words instead of allowing them to spew forth in an anger-induced tirade.
“Shouldn’t be that hard, should it? Already done it once.” He contemplated verbally as he shrugged. She waited for him to expand, but he instead turned his attention back to his Chirashi and said no more. Claudia stared right at him, eyebrows raised. She, too, said nothing else, just kept that glare fixed on him. With a sigh, he placed his chopsticks down on his plate, giving her the attention she was demanding.
“Fine. Have it your way. So much for trying to be better this time round.” He stopped, closing his eyes and taking a contemplative deep breath before continuing. “There is one non-stop theme that has run through every tenure I have had with CWF. It is that no matter what I do, I am never the top story. The question is prevalent. It’s over. You could walk away now, so why won’t you?
Let me answer the question with a question. Several questions in fact. What happened when Danny B became the hottest act in CWF and dragged the Blue Scorpion to his only good match in history? What happened when Danny B won the world championship? Either time? What happened when Danny B won Golden Intentions last time? What happened when Danny walked into Anthropolis and stormed the castle, upturning every plan those dickheads had? What happened when the CWF title was vacated?”
Claudia watched as those emerald green eyes began to shift, iris’ sparkling with fiery rage.
“Let me answer. Instead of being granted a title match outright, I had to share the spotlight with the ultimate coat-tailer, Jace Valentine, granted his spot, of course. The company closed, and I was stripped. Of course, I wasn’t granted my rightful rematch. When I raised my hand at the end of Golden Intentions, the story was all about Alex fucking Cain. That was the focus. Not me. I went undefeated, no one could beat me in Anthropolis, but that didn’t vibe with ‘the plan’ so I was kept spinning, inserted into the Pact feud to be the only interesting part of it. Not granted a title match when Harlan, Gordy and the entire fucking Higlander line failed to take me out. Look at what happened when I took initiative and inserted myself into End Games. There had to be some convoluted way to make sure I didn’t win and now, with the world title vacant, where am I? Getting the match I deserve? Of course not. I have to earn it. Again.”
Danny turned his attention from Claudia, looking of into the distance, as if speaking to the world, not just her.
“Take a look at the recaps and storybooks when you have a chance, the write-ups, the articles. Tell me how many times I am the headline. It’s not ‘Danny B, world champion’, it’s ‘CWF Closes!’ It’s never ‘Ataxia falls to the legend.’ It’s ‘The Tower Match returns.’ Don’t expect ‘Legendary CWF wrestler injured in heinous attack.’ It’s ‘Baghead Bones does something totally CWAZZY!’ If I’m lucky, I’ll get page five. Yet, every night I turn up and turn out. I watch so many people imitate my style, both in the ring and on the mic. So many think they’re tough OG’s, but they're Ripper-lites. Do I get my flowers? Do I fuck.
Want more proof? When it comes time to face me, people tend to find plenty of reasons why they suddenly need to be somewhere else. Why ruin a legacy by facing someone like me? Why break the fantasy, eh? Isn’t that right, Shane? Alex? Amber? Dan?”
Ripper turned his snarl back to Claudia. Eyes well and truly aflame by this point.
"Everyone has questions. There are always questions. Yet, when I provide the answers, no one listens. I wasn’t willingly brought back into the fold. This wasn’t a favour to someone who needed to parlay their loneliness into an excuse to hang out with friends again. No, I was taken against my will, I suppose to be made a spectacle of. Oh, look at this has-been, look how much more superior we are because we put him out. Didn’t happen, though, did it?
So, now here we are. They did everything they could to put me out of my misery, yet I would not fall. Now, every single person in CWF will be offered the opportunity to learn what I have always known. If you kill me, I only come back stronger.”
“There’s my Ripper.”
His eyes drained of fire immediately.
“Your Dad used to say that.”
She struggled to meet his eye after that.
**//**
For the first time in a very long time, Danny B was rendered totally speechless as he looked up at the Colloseum building. Sure, he’d been told that this match would be taking place in that building, but he imagined that they had found a building and named it in honour of the depraved pit of violence and amoralism that he had fought in only weeks before. But no, it was really the fucking colosseum. He actually found himself slack-jawed at the sight of the fucking thing. It was the prime metaphor for his career, really. The past never really stays in the past.
Occasionally, he would break his gaze away from the gigantic building before him to look around at the general populace of Philadelphia, expecting to see them gawking at this fucking monstrosity as well. They simply went about their day as if nothing was different. He’d been to Pilly before, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember just what stood in this spot, just like the memories of the futureland, it was just out of reach.
Seems, though, very much as it had been back then, he was left to feel like an anologue being in a digital world, just a little out of place.
This being here only meant one thing. He wasn’t really free of it all. The great reset wasn’t all that absolute. Some of it remained. He could only dread to imagine what elements there would be. He was a simple man who loved a simple life. Lavish, sure, but simple. This, whatever this was, was certainly not simple.
He took a step forward, just one step. He planned to enter the arena and take a look around, but there was something that was stopping him, whether it was some more Amoralist bullshit or his own predispositions, he didn’t know, but nonetheless, he found himself stuck on the spot just staring up.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” He exclaimed rather loudly, startling a few of the people milling about around him. He paid them no mind as he spun on his heel, walking away. He kept walking, all the way back to The Four Seasons that he was calling home for the week; he kept going, choosing to take the stairs rather than waiting, brushing past a few bemused staff members on the way to his room. Once inside, he threw his suit jacket to the side and strode directly for the comfortable-looking armchair on one side of the room. He sat, dropping his chin into his hands as a mixed expression of contemplative anger took hold of his weathered features.
“Golden Intentions. The one time when my name gets mentioned positively, when I am honoured as one of only six people to have ever won the damn thing. You know, though, I won my one in 2017. Can you believe that? Nearly a decade ago. Do you know what people remember from that match? They remember Danny B snaking in and stealing an opportunity at the last moment.
Do you know what I remember? I remember biding my time, picking my spots, choosing my opportunities. There seems to be this notion that your visage will only ever be etched into marble if you do everything the right and honourable way. Fucking bullshit. History is written by the winners. I didn’t get to be where I am by smiling and being a good guy. Nor did I get to be the legend that I am today by spending my life with my nose up someone’s ass.
Those are valid paths to glory. One is honourable, slow and painful but righteous. The other is snivelling, pathetic and ultimately, meaningless. There’s a third way, though. By simply being the best in the world.
There are some names I recognise in this thing. Caledonia, who I beat. Dan Highlander, who I beat. Dangerous Dan, my CWR world champion, you know I love you, but man to man, you can't hold a candle to me. Billy and Tyler, oh you hapless idiots, I’m glad that we still have a specials program. Good to be inclusive in this day and age. Then there’s Silas. The latest wank bank material for those who love themselves a little self-indulgence. I know little of this gump, and I wish to know less. Just another schmuck who got in my way at End Games, and will regret getting in my way if he comes for me this time.
As for the rest of you, and as for our little batch of surprise entrants. I don’t know you. In the past, I may have been careless enough to dismiss you all, but that will not be the case this time. I challenge all of you, come and make a name off of me. Dumping me from that ring will give you immortality in an instant. I’ll make you famous. I warn you, though, as I warn anyone who thinks that this old man has seen better days. At this event, I will become the first-ever two-time winner. An accolade I will wear with pride. I wear all my accolades like medals of honour. It is these achievements that separate mortals like you from Gods like me.
At Golden Intentions, the Golden God rises once again. My rightful place in the Main Event of WrestleFest awaits. My journey to my third CWF world championship begins today. My message is simple. Stop me. I fucking dare you.”
Danny flicks his wrist. A glint of silver. Glass smashes.
“We’re going old school this time.”