IT'S A SMALL WORLD AFTER ALL

The decision Tony Gamble made when he agreed to join the Bandits had been a hot topic of discussion with everyone in his life, and not a single one of them understood how he could bring himself to be associated with a man like Cancer Jiles. It struck him as odd when you considered the type of man people believed him to be. Apart from his daughter Olivia, everyone knew the type of things he had done in his past and he did nothing to hide or apologize for any of it. People were aware of the way he compared Jennifer Colton to swine on Jabber, that he never really cared if Rhine ever walked again, and would have been fine if Nora never got her treatments and went into remission.

Most, if not all, of the roster thought Tony was a bigger asshole than Cancer, and he doubted he would argue that point if it came up.

Still, as he rubbed his temples gently – eyes closed as he took short deliberate breaths –  he couldn't help but think back to his time in Seattle. He watched Coral live the life he missed out on so many years ago. Avalon had a wife that gave him shit about being a Bandit, but still loved him so much that she waited with open arms for him to return home. He had an infant that kept him from having any type of normal sleep schedule – and more than likely shit in the tub while being bathed – but still managed to bring a smile to his face every time he held her in his arms.

As he lifted a piece of paper off his desk and gave it a once over, he realized that every member had something to be happy about.

The Golden Bandit had a family.

The Hammer of Honalee had a win streak.

The Conqueror of Coolympus had his T-shades.

Doozer had…

“What the hell are you doing?”

Tony Two Books looked up from the paper in his hand and sighed audibly while he placed it next to a stack of them, then sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I was looking over the card for ReVival 44, but I'm guessing you have something important to say by the way you just stormed in here without knocking.”

“Yeah, I'm trying to figure out why you're out there looking like a damn chicken on a hot plate,” Frank Pastore approached his mentor and friend, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed as he glared across the desk at Gamble. “Cancer has you out there looking like a damn fool…aren't you embarrassed?”

“Why would I be embarrassed,” Tony chuckled softly as he shook his head, then leaned forward and rested his forearms on the papers stacked before him. “I think I play my part quite well.”

“So you're okay with playing second fiddle to Cancer Jiles?”

“Frank,” Tony allowed a genuine smile to curl on the right side of his lips. “I'm not even the fourth chair in this little quintet, and I'm okay with that.”

“What are you,” the look of confusion on Pastore's face was hard to conceal, so he did not try as he corrected the Permascar Superstar. “There are only four of you, Tony.”

“Everybody always forgets about Doozer,” his head shook left to right a few times, then he leaned closer and whispered. “He was right there when Ivan told the rest of that little group what the team building exercise was going to be, and no one was the wiser.”

“You've got to be kidding me.” Frank's shoulders slumped and his heart sank. He knew something was off with the patriarch of the Gamble Adoration Syndicate lately, but this was taking things to another level.

“We had snacks prepared, and huddled around the monitor as soon as we saw Tom walk into the backstage hallway.” A hearty laugh passed through his lips as he thought back to the moment Ivan crashed through the wall. “Miller Lite shot through Cancer’s nostrils, and Bobby laughed out of his ass…it was great.”

“You mean he laughed his ass off,” Frank’s head tilted to the left a bit, as he pondered the phrase that had just been said.

“No,” Gamble’s fit of laughter was briefly accompanied by a slap of his hand on the desk, as he struggled to continue. “He had just taken a bite out of a ham…and didn't want to waste it…so he held it in…and blasted ass instead…we thought he shit himself!”

Frank was beside himself, not entirely sure how he was supposed to react to the situation. The two of them had been through so much together. Tony being the reason he even trained to become a wrestler in the first place, a venture cut short when he found Tony passed out in their hotel room after a Defiance show. The bump he took that night was not that severe, so the thought still remained at the back of his mind when he watched him step into the ring on a more consistent basis during his current run in PRIME.

It worried him.

“I thought you were planning to take things seriously this year,” Frank finally spoke up, clearly not as amused by the frat house pranks and jokes Gamble had partaken in since he joined the Bandits. “Are you just going to give up on winning the Universal title?”

The question stifled Tony's laughter, but the smile on his face did not fade away.

It's permanent.

Every Bandit had something that set them apart – and for those new to the party – the scar that started at the left corner of his mouth then curled and stretched up toward his ear is the reason why they call Tony ‘The Grin’.

“Have you ever known me to give up on anything, Frank?”

“No, but…”

“But nothing,” Tony raised his voice a bit, cutting off his friend with a quick wave with the back of his hand. “I have thirteen losses on my record, Frank. Trust me, I've had plenty of time to say screw it and walk away. I'm just not built like that.”

“You've walked away before.”

Twice, to be exact.

“That was different, Frank, and you know it.” Tony stood up, straightened out his shirt, and walked around the desk. “I don't appreciate the fact that you keep bringing it up, especially when we were talking about me giving up on going after the University title.”

“You brought up your record,” Pastore lifted his hands in surrender, then shook his head.

“So I could take a shot at Ria for always quitting when things get tough,” Gamble tilted his head back to look up at the taller half of No Laughing Matter. “Are you upset that I sent you guys to tour Japan when I got back from the Octane?”

“I'm upset that you're becoming a walking punchline.”

“Didn't that happen when I lost to Swanny,” Gamble cocked his head to the left, toward the door. “Walk with me, would you?” Tony pulled the door open, then stepped to the side to allow Frank a chance to exit the room. “Have you ever heard of MAD magazine?”

= = = = =

“Of course I have,” Tony Gamble nodded in response. “It's one of my favorite magazines.”

“So then you're familiar with Spy vs Spy, as well?” Devin Shakur leaned back in his seat, hands clasped as his eyes focused on something in the distance instead of the man seated to his right.

“Yeah,” Tony replied, as he took a moment to sniff his drink. “Why?”

We're as lost as everyone else on the current whereabouts of the enigma known as Devin Shakur, but this happened way back in March of 2007 –  the 12th to be exact. It was the Monday after Culture Shock, and Gamble had been surprised to see The Devil in Black's cell phone number pop up on his screen. The two had never been what you would call friends, so there was a bit of hesitation before he agreed to the meeting.

“It’s not poisoned,” Shakur chuckled as he turned to face his guest. “But that reaction is exactly why I called you here. I have an idea that could be beneficial to the two of us, and it is going to require a certain amount of trust on both of our parts in order for us to pull it off.”

“I'm listening,” Tony's left eyebrow cocked as he leaned forward, clearly intrigued by the proposition. “I know it seemed like everything was fine last night, but things have been a bit off since I beat Angelo back in December.”

“You also managed to knock Snow and Tsonda down a peg or two on your way there,” he stretched out the index finger on his right hand, and pointed toward The Grin. “And that's why you're perfect for this. You won the Jewel in the Crown tournament, and in doing so earned a shot at the Universal Championship.”

“I lost though.”

“You did,” Devin nodded. “But that's beside the point. What I noticed was the blatant disrespect that was shown to you by the powers that be, when they had Nova defend his title at every show leading up to your opportunity…including Deville and Adam.”

“Yeah, not to mention that bitch Troy,” Tony spat to his right.

“It's clear that no one expected you to win that tournament,” the thought brought a smile to Shak Daddy's face. “You single handedly destroyed everything they wanted to do…who they wanted to push, because you're nothing but a joke to everybody on this roster. The butt of every short joke, which makes the comment about you coming up short against Nova even funnier.”

“I'm not even that short,” Tony shook his head, but he knew Devin was right. He may as well be David in the land of Goliath's, nothing but a stone in his hand as he attempted to overcome impossible odds on a weekly basis.

“Yet the jokes continue, and nothing you do is going to stop them,” Shakur threw his hands up and shrugged his shoulders. “So my plan is to have them make even more jokes, to have everybody thinking even less about you than they do now. With the two of us putting on a show every week, they're not going to focus on what we're doing in the ring and no one will realize how much of a threat we are to everyone.”

“What exactly is this plan of yours?”

“We're going to pretend that we're trying to kill each other every week.”

Tony's jaw dropped and his brow furrowed, it wasn't the answer he expected to hear. “We're going to what?”

“I know it sounds absurd, but if we pull this off…we can end up running this whole damn place.”

= = = = =

“I don't want to run anything,” Tony wagged his finger and shook his head.

“It's just a small 5K, Tony,” Victoria laughed as she replied, while a few tears puddled along the bottom of her eyelids. “It's not going to kill you.”

“I'd beg to differ, my dear,” Gamble stood up from his chair and stretched his legs for a moment. “There's a reason I'm not doing moves off the top rope anymore.”

“Well, Olivia and I have done it twice a year for the last two years, but we had to miss it in November since we weren't in town.”

“So now you're going to try and guilt me into it?”

Victoria shrugged her shoulders. It wasn't her initial intent, but she would go to almost any length to make her daughter happy. It was the only reason her daughter's father stood across from her right now, so it was something he should be grateful for– even if it is working against him at the moment. A white skirt with a floral pattern in different shades of purple draped over her knees, but it was the low cut white top that had kept his attention since he arrived. She had informed him from the start though, that wasn't on the menu –  she just enjoyed the look on his face. There was something about being desired that gave her an adrenaline rush, made her feel powerful.

“Please?” It was the sad puppy dog eyes that gave Olivia her power, a look that had wrapped her father around her finger immediately. There was just something in the way she looked up at him that made him melt, and while he knew he would eventually cave and join them in their little race…he knew that he had failed to do what she wanted the most.

Joining the Bandits had placed an even wider gap between him and her dream, and he had thought about asking her mother to not allow Olivia to watch the show. As much as he hated to admit, this match was a bit more personal than any he had been in. Ria wasn't just any other opponent, and their history went all the way back to the first night Tony stepped out from behind a PRIME curtain after a very long hiatus.

“I'll think about it,” Tony completed his smile, though he knew in his heart the answer would end up being yes. Just like he knew this upcoming match was destined to happen. Ria had stepped away too many times, but she couldn't stay away for long and he was sure Troy did not want to see this opportunity lost again.

He wasn't sure how he knew what buttons to push to get people riled up, to hate him on a level where even the slightest comment could ruffle enough feathers to make Jenny Colton wee wee wee all the way home. It just happened naturally, and that was why he decided he wouldn't be addressing Ria this week. There was too much that he wanted to say that shouldn't be said, so it would be safer for him to not even step in front of a camera.

The Stool would be sad, but it would get past this.

Maybe he should avoid the match altogether.

He wasn't supposed to win any matches until War Games anyway.

Screw it, Ria is going to get a pass this week.

Tony has a race to prepare for.

“When is this race, anyway?”