The Long Epilogue

Coral Avalon was the Universal Champion.

A life’s goal fulfilled. A promise made. All it took was twenty-two years of blood, sweat, sacrifice, maybe dying once or twice, and maybe an irresponsible amount of cryostasis. He didn’t know how long the ride would last. He never even considered what would happen after he became champion, just that becoming champion was his life’s goal and the promise he’d made as an in-over-his-head teenager in the middle of making the incredibly risky decision of taking the road less traveled.

Much like life, though, stories in professional wrestling never truly “finished”.

And even when you finally achieve your fairy tale ending as Coral Avalon did in Lisbon, life will still go on. You’ll pay your price soon enough. And everything that will happen after that ending?

Well, that’s just a long epilogue, baby.

So, let’s begin this long epilogue with the aftermath of that beautiful scene in Lisbon.

The crowd that’d come to Lisbon to watch Coral fulfill his destiny didn’t exactly stop their celebration just because the cameras went off for the night. This party went up to a large penthouse suite and rooftop, located at one of the best hotels in the Lisbon area.

It was going about as well as any afterparty with a bunch of professional wrestlers - current and former - could be. Some were friends. Some were enemies. But perhaps for one night, they could all set aside their differences.

A gigantic man in a black jackal mask was singing a beautiful duet of “I Want It That Way” with a one-armed Celtics fan. There was a chubby black man DMing a quick game of Dungeons and Dragons with Coral’s two best proteges, Claire Merci and Ignacio el Jaguar. Also, a shark was there with them and playing a bard. Gavin was there trying to sell Brandon Youngblood his services as a lawyer-for-hire, and was naturally getting nowhere. All three members of Mega Job crowded around a television set, and everyone there knew that television wasn’t going to survive the night.

If you’re wondering how Coral Avalon and friends could swing such a fancy place to have a party, look no further than the man in the cowboy hat wistfully drinking a martini in one corner of the room. No, not that man in the cowboy hat, eating all of the food because Clay Byrd heard the word “party” and who’d stop him from joining? Or that one either. Not sure how Youngblood could take being at this party, actually.

Anyway, out of all of the shady people that attended Coral’s Tropical Turmoil afterparty, it was Merlin Clayton Avalon that had Coral the most wary. He sat in one corner of the penthouse suite nursing a martini like he was the most important person in the room. He’d simply graciously given that title over to someone else.

Coral sat alone at the minibar, finally given some time alone after all of the parading and cheering and good times. Bobby and Tony had left the party early, and so he was the only Bandit presence.

Placed on display next to him was the Universal belt. He didn’t know where else to put it. “Heavy lies the crown” and all that, but they didn’t have to make that thing so big and hard to lug around.

A slow, soft whistle emanates from the other side of the display. “I swear, every time I see this thing, it feels like the first time.”

Coral looked up and around before his eyes fell on the speaker: Nate Colton.

The New Diamond wasn’t quite so shiny; the bruising and stitches in his face made the twenty-four hours since his own match look more like twenty minutes. Still, Nate had a satisfied smirk on his face as he admired the Universal Title.

“ReV 6,” he continued, answering a question that Coral never asked. “Filmix and I got to the arena early. We were just about to head over to that stupid puzzle thing when Brandon came in, carrying it over his shoulder. My arm was halfway up to reach out and touch it when I realized I was on the other side of the room.”

“ReV…olution 125 or so,” Coral said, nodding at the belt, “Nova, Gamble, myself, and most of the rest of the Rogues got stuck in an elevator together. Closest I ever came before tonight. Back then, I didn’t have as much patience for the company I kept, so I was one step away from making those guys jump out of the elevator to get it moving again.”

Upon the words “those guys”, he gave a nod of acknowledgement towards Beef and Janito. He turned back to Colton, gesturing with his glass of orange juice, “Good job taking down the lizardman, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Nate replied, wincing a bit as he tried to turn his head. “Gonna be feeling this one for a while. FLAMBO’s almost as good as he thinks he is.”

“You have his number, though,” Coral said, “Not too many folks around here can say that.”

He decided to decline mentioning that he wasn’t one of them, of course, instead maintaining a smile towards the New Diamond, “Feel free to reach out and touch it, if you’d like.”

Nate’s right arm raises a little, as if his hand is trying to reach for the Richest Prize of its own accord…but it doesn’t get very far before he pushes it back down to his side.

“Nope,” he says, taking another drink of Bud Light and hoping the liquid courage can fill the gap in his principles. “Not until I’ve earned it.”

“I mean, it’s a belt, not Mjolnir!” Coral laughed and took a sip of his orange juice, “But I get it. I can’t even remember the last time I touched a belt that heavy before now, other than Seymour smashing my face in with one, anyway.”

He set his drink down, “You might not be the champion yet, but you always carry yourself as one. Though maybe don’t get so used to fronting it as I did, two decades is a long time to act like the world champion when you’ve never been.”

“Appreciate the advice…and the compliment. But I think you know what I’m getting at. When I had to hand off the Five Star–both times–it was like pulling fish hooks out of my skin. So I don’t even want to touch the Universal until I know I get to keep it.”

Coral smiled vaguely, knowing who was responsible one of those times, “You will, someday. I’ve got a bit of faith. Maybe it’ll come at my expense, you never know.”

Nate tried to laugh it off…but the way he kept looking at Coral…and then at the belt…

“Well. Cross that bridge if we get there. For now…” He held up his bottle towards Coral, offering a toast along with a warm grin. “Here’s to that crown having a proper king again. Cheers, your highness.”

Coral raised his orange juice to meet Nate’s bottle, “Cheers, Nate.”

*.*

Coral knew where he wanted to go first once he’d become champion.

He made it a point to not tell anyone on Jabber where he was going when he left Lisbon. In his mind, the last thing anyone in PRIME needed to know was where his sister was buried. In particular, he couldn’t get images of egg yolks on her headstone out of his head if he’d told anyone where he was going. Not saying he didn’t trust the Bandits, but…

…Okay, we’re definitely saying he didn’t trust the Bandits.

The Cleveland graveyard stood as silent as it usually did whenever Coral visited. The overcast sky threatened rain, but the threat was merely that for the moment. He chafed at the hot breeze, being out here doing little more than talking to a headstone was worse than wrestling. Making this walk always felt as raw to him as the day his sister was laid to rest. Six years, and yet it still felt like yesterday to him.

When he reached the headstone, Coral crouched down next to it. He set the bag he carried to the side, and he hesitated. The words never came to him as easily here as it did when he was shamelessly promoting himself as a professional wrestler with such egregious titles as “Your Forever Alias Champion” and “The King of Conquerors”.

“Hey, Emmy. Been a while, sorry,” he said before he chuckled through his next few words, “A lot’s happened in the last eighteen months.”

He reached up to the top of the headstone with trepidation, though he dared not touch it.

“I guess… the first thing I get to tell you is that I’m a dad now. Scary, right? Me, of all people, a dad. The prodigal son, himself. Always thought Merle would be the only one of us to have kids, you know?” Coral said, “Her name’s Aoi. Six months old now. We just went on this big international excursion, too, she was such a trooper through all of that. You’d, uh… have probably yelled at me about taking her and Annie with me on that trip, of course.”

He looked down at his hands. Not a day went by that he wondered how different things would’ve been if she’d taken the offer of a ride back home with him. Maybe she’d still be alive.

After a while, Coral reached into the bag he carried with him and pulled out the prize he’d won in Lisbon, “Hey, so, um… I did it.”

He set the championship belt on the grave, and took a few steps back.

“I’ll… let you look at it for a bit, really let it sink in.”

He wasn’t sure if he was talking to his sister or himself. As much as he dreamed of the moment of winning the championship, he sometimes wondered if this wasn’t still some crazy cryostasis dream he was having. He hadn’t been back in the chamber since that disastrous post-WarGames trip, and had no idea that he’d never be back in that thing again. He hadn’t dreamt of sheep since the night before Tropical Turmoil.

In fact, he hadn’t dreamt at all.

Coral watched the belt sit there. More like staring. He wished he’d been able to do this sooner. He wished she could’ve seen him do it. Too little, too late.

“Pretty crazy, right?” Coral asked the headstone after he’d let things sink in, “I’d… I’ll confess, I’d almost given up hope that a day like this could ever happen. For fifteen years, no one at home wanted me. And even if they did, not as me. I had to build a ‘kingdom’ to claw my way back to PRIME. And… I had to become a Bandit to actually get this in my hands.”

He sighed.

He thought back to that night in Lisbon. Jiles had hit him with the Superkick of Damocles that he’d so dreaded at the pivotal moment when he thought it would hurt him the worst. He’d watched the moment dozens of times on the transatlantic flight back home. His cheek still burned from where the blow had grazed him.

His conclusion? That crumb had definitely been aiming for him.

How do you miss the broadside of the forehead? Did he graduate from the Imperial Stormtrooper Superkicking Academy?

He put those intrusive thoughts out of his head. Not here.

“Emmy, I know the promise was to be a champion worthy of our name of Avalon,” His smile had a sad tinge as he slowly pulled the belt away from the headstone, “And… The biggest prize in the sport is right here in front of us, a prize worthy of the name Avalon. I did it, I’m the champion. But… I know I still have work to do to be worthy of our promise. Can’t just sit on my laurels.”

He set the belt on his shoulder, and gave the headstone one last look.

“See you again sometime, big sis.”

*.*

Nate Colton was a fool. At least, he felt like one.

He sat impatiently in Dr. Fihlguud’s makeshift office while a neophyte trainer checked his jaw. “There’s some swelling already, you’ll want to put some ice on this. But it doesn’t look like anything’s broken.”

A date with an ice pack and a nasty bruise; his reward for doing the right thing.

“I’ll grab a pack. How’s the pain?”

“Fine,” Nate answered…through gritted teeth, so you can tell he meant it.

“I’ll get you some ibuprofen too,” the medic said, and took his leave.

“Thanks,” another wince, brought on by the physical toll from the event soon to be known as the Bedlam in Boise. The emotional toll was another matter.

Nate held no reservations for what he did to Alexei Ruslan; the operative had done far worse in Ivan Stanislav’s name, and for less reason.

Even afterwards, when he sought to prevent Stanislav from taking liberties with Hessian like he had countless others, Colton went into the ring with the best intentions.

Unfortunately, he forgot where that road leads. And now someone else was hurting because they had to save him.

“How’re you holding up, champ?” he asked the man lying down nearby, and got a half-hearted thumbs up in response.

“I’m really sorry, Coral. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t come out to save my dumb ass.”

“What, and then scoop up your dead ass instead? No thanks.”

Nate wanted to argue, but bravado withered in the face of overwhelming logic. “Yeah, probably. I just feel like I should have seen it coming.”

“I mean, who’d have seen Hessian aligning himself with Jiles coming? You’ve seen how he treats PRIME’s old guard, after all.” Coral asked, removing the ice pack from his head, “In a way, this is my fault. I introduced them to each other because of WarGames!”

“The thing I don’t get…what does Hessian think he’s going to get out of all this?”

“So, I’m probably blowing smoke up my own ass here, but I think Hessian saw the kind of success I had with the Bandits and wanted a piece of it.” Coral said, laughing, “Of course, our arrangement didn’t exactly start as willingly as his.”

Laughing made the face hurt, so back to the ice pack he went.

He continued, “He’s like all of PRIME’s old guard, trying to get another bite of the apple despite having plenty of it the last go around.”

“Yeah, probably. It’s just…Hessian isn’t stupid, right? He’s gotta know Jiles is going to stab him in the back someday. Hell, it could be tomorrow and I don’t think anyone would bat an eye.”

“Don’t I know it,” Coral said. As if for emphasis, he pressed the ice pack against his jaw a little harder, “I’d been expecting it for some time, though even I’m not sure who he intended to superkick in Lisbon.”

“Also, another thing,” Coral said as he stuck out his fist, “Don’t worry about dragging me into your thing with Ivan. I’d help anyone that dumps Alexei on his ugly head.”

The New Diamond grinned as he completed the fist bump. “Felt damn good in the moment, I won’t lie.” The smile faltered after a moment, though, as the fallout replayed in his head for the tenth time. “Just wish it had actually mattered.”

“That’s not true. You gave Hessian a chance at an even contest, it’s just that the infuriating part about Ivan is that he doesn’t need Alexei to win,” Coral said, “I’d respect him more if he wasn’t so… Well. You know.”

He made a vague hand gesture with his free hand that essentially said “all of it”.

Nate nodded, a bit sadly. “You’d think a guy that tall wouldn’t need to prove that he’s a big man. But here we are.”

“Yeah, well…” Coral sighed as he removed the ice pack from his face, “That’s the problem with dealing with people who delude themselves like the Russians - every setback has an excuse. The best we can do is to keep setting them back until they die from old age.”

He tossed his ice pack to a table across the room, threatening to knock over water bottles on a table before it fell short and landed under the table. He’s not picking that up.

“So, you know, maybe tomorrow.”

Coral winked as he dug into his pockets and pulled out a set of keys. They’re not car keys. Oh no. These had an egg-shaped decoration on them, and the word “CAPITAN” written on it. We all knew what they were for.

He held them up for Nate to see, “Quick question. How do you feel about aircraft carriers?”

*.*

The USS Octane floated along, but not in the Modest Mouse kind of way like other vessels did.

On board this inexplicable aircraft carrier, an average crew member was walking around making his rounds. He didn’t know how he wound up on this vessel, or why, all he knew was that he’d been here since the beginning and that it paid better than working in the pit.

His name was Bryce, by the way.

Bryce knew how to hang. He knew all of the best, least haunted spots on the Octane. He knew to stay away from the brig and the gallows and that horrible space in-between that he mentally called the “brigallows” but dared not talk about. He stayed out of Jiles’ way, and made sure to avoid being put on Bobby Dean “duty”. He tried to not worry about the existential horror of life on this boat, especially now that more people were going to know his name after today.

After making his rounds, Bryce knew that the best thing to do to relax on a day without any of the Bandits on board was to hit up the cafeteria and go out onto the deck to take in the sky and the sea.

So he got his customary egg and steak sandwich and went out to the deck, and…

…Oh. Oh no.

The helicopter had landed some time ago, and was at rest. Its pilot was eating his own lunch. Bryce didn’t recognize either entity as anything that’d ever landed on the Octane before.

“You know, this whole time I thought this was some kind of joke. Because who would have an actual goddamn aircraft carrier? And it turns out the answer is you. You would have an actual goddamn aircraft carrier.”

Bryce did a double-take. His eyes went wide when he saw the captain, his captain, hanging out with unauthorized personnel. A full-blown Colton crumb. This went against everything in the protocols he definitely read once upon a time that definitely existed for this outlaw vessel for Bandits.

“Yeah, I know, I know, just roll with it,” Coral said, trying not to sound as impatient as though he’d heard Nate’s incredulity several times already, “We can’t stick around too much longer. Who knows when the jet comes back?”

Bryce watched as Coral Avalon fiddled with his cell phone. Nate Colton kept gawking at the Octane-ness of his situation.

Wrestling had taken him to a lot of strange places. The Aardvark Civil War in Luxembourg. Chandler Tsonda’s dressing room with its strict no-shoes policy. Kentucky. But standing on the deck of the Octane, a conveyance that carried the taint of both Lee Best and Cancer Jiles, was somehow the weirdest.

“Is there a couch? I wanna put my feet on it. Oh God, this is how it starts, isn’t it…”

“Smile for the selfie, man. Let’s make sure the ship’s name is in the shot, too.” Coral said. It’s the most he’s smiled outside of that time he and the other Bandits drove mopeds around Lisbon.

And Bryce had a lot of explaining to do for this one.

*.*

A picture is worth a thousand words, but we’ve only got a hundred left to spare.

Coral Avalon and Nate Colton smile for the camera, which Coral was also holding. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the ocean was even bluer. The control tower of the aircraft carrier loomed behind them, the words “USS OCTANE” emblazoned upon it. The picture couldn’t capture the horrors that lurked below their feet, not that any should ever photograph them.

For Coral, it’s the beginning of his long epilogue. For Nate, it’s a flashpoint in his impressive career. They’d soon have their first tag team match. 

To bring a little good in this wrestling world of theirs.