The Herald Situation and Other Short Stories

The room is pitch black, save for the faint neon green glow from the alarm clock.

The sound of the white noise machine and air conditioner combine to create a symphony of static that made it easy to ignore the outside world and let your mind relax.

The contrast of the cold air against warm blankets and plush pillow top of the bed creates optimal sleeping conditions.

There’s just something about a cold room and warm blankets that puts the body into a catatonic state.

Bryan is neck-deep in restorative sleep when the first knocks occur. Three of them, in quick succession.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

He cracks an eye open to scan the room for the neon glow.

3:55

“I’m not doing this right now” he thinks. Whoever it is can come back later.

The last few weeks had been a whirlwind.

The loss against Rose at Ultra Violence.

Picking up his first win, albeit as a tag team, inside a PRIME ring since 2011.

The scandal.

The journey into the bowels of the Delta Center in search of catering.

Whatever the hell happened in the bowels of the Delta Center last night.

The Red Manifesto turned premeditated murder.

The fallout from the scandal.

And that was just in the last four weeks.

All that to say, Bryan needs this sleep.

He closes his eyes and turns away from the door, allowing the white noise to soothe his brain and relax his body.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Again?

Again.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“This had better be an emergency” he mutters to himself as he emerges from the comforter cocoon. The combination of the cool air and unknown identity of who’s on the other side of the door have spread goosebumps across his tanned skin. On his way to the door, he throws on a pair of shorts and takes another look at the clock through blurry eyes. He slowly rubs both eyes to shake the sleep from his eyes and sharpen his vision.

3:58

He approaches the peephole wondering if he is making a giant mistake. It is almost four o’clock in the morning, after all.

What–rather who–he sees through that peephole confirms that it was, indeed, a giant mistake.

“What the…” he mutters as he unlocks and slowly opens the door. He is greeted by a tall, slender man wearing the notable crimson red tunic of the Kael clan. The normally jovial and boisterous Herald is much more sullen, an understandable change after the murder of Max Kael by FLAMBERGE.

Short was his reign, bruh just got maimed.

“The…Herald?” While Bryan attempts to figure out why Max Kael’s lackey is knocking at his door at an ungodly hour, the Herald shoves the tattered remains of Dawkins’ Hawaiian shirt into his chest.

"The Bryan Dawkins! You left this behind on THE RED MANIFESTO and we're returning it to you know, at the turn of the tide!"

The shirt reeks of God knows what, is covered in God knows what (and a few red feathers), and is in far from wearable condition. What was a beautiful tapestry of Hawaiian prints and vibrant colors now more closely resembles a mechanic’s dirty rag.

Bryan does his best to disguise his disgust. “…thanks?”

The Herald barely manages to eek out a response between the sobs. "You're welcome, normally the pigs eat all the garbage but for some reason they couldn't choke that down! Luuuuucky for you!"

“You do know what time it is, eh bruh? Normal people are tryin’ to sleep.”

“Sir! That’s not it–” Uninterested in continuing this conversation, Dawkins closes the door without awaiting a response. He tosses the mangled shirt into the trash can by the nightstand and falls back into the bed, glancing once more at the alarm clock across the bed.

4:02

Outside, the Herald stares at the door expecting something to happen.

"..uh.. Bryan Dawkins?!"

He bangs on the door a few more times.

"It's the Herald!.. of Max Kael? We met the other day on THE RED MANIFESTO?!"

A light flashes behind the otherwise vacant eyes of the Herald. 

💡

"INSPIRATION! GENIUS!"

Skipping away, the jingle jangle of his tiny bells is swallowed by the calm silence of the night.

“That’s GENIUS!”

Without another word, he scampers down the hall and out of sight, humming a tune along the way.

🍍🍍🍍

Bryan woke up four hours later, his battery recharged and mind in a much better place than it was at his original waking hour. Within an hour, he was showered and walked a couple blocks to Toasters Deli for a quick breakfast and iced coffee.

Back at his computer, iced coffee in hand, he’s preparing for a FaceTime call with Kai and Nicholas. These weekly check ins are part of the promise that Bryan made to both of them - although he might be traveling the country as part of his PRIME obligations, regular contact is going to be non negotiable moving forward. No matter where he is, Saturday mornings there will either be a call, FaceTime, or an in-person visit.

Bryan’s determined on being a part of Nicholas’ life moving forward.

Although he’s done a couple of these since Ultra Violence weekend, the butterflies persist. It’s almost like going on a first date over and over again.

Today, those nerves are broken, again by that damn door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The rapping at the door breaks Bryan’s concentration just as he goes to initiate the call.

He sighs audibly as he drags himself from the desk and slogs toward the door, dreading what (or who) is on the other side. He doesn’t bother to check the peephole this time - we’re getting right to business.

“MISTER DAWKINS!”

Sigh. Not this again.

Without hesitation, the door is slammed–actually, no it’s not.

The Herald somehow manages to stop the door by summoning every muscle in his Slender Man-esque body. He’s now wearing an even more elaborate tunic and is holding a scroll of some sort.

He clears his throat before announcing. "I, Sub-Marquis Bentley Tennyson Primrose-Farthing, the Herald of the Wise and Wicked Maximillian Wilhelm Kael, deliver unto you... A MESSAGE!"

Arms crossed, defenses up. Dawkins is not amused, nor does he have time for more Herald antics. You know, if you slam and lock the door quickly enough, we can avoid this, he thinks to himself. Then he remembers that the Herald has shown great propensity to knock incessantly.

Knowing there’s no way to easily avoid this interaction, he relents. “Alright bruh, go for it. What’s the message?” The Herald’s face lights up with glee.

“FanTASTIC! Commissar Kael will be so pleased! For this oh-so-special occasion, I have prepared a musical telegram!”

Oh dear god.

From deep within his tunic, the Herald produces a pitch pipe, leaving Bryan to wonder where exactly that thing was stashed. After a few moments of pondering, he figures it’s probably best he not know.

He unfurls the scroll, which quickly hits the floor and rolls a few feet down the hallway. He scans the scroll and finally settles on the prose written about two-thirds of the way down the scroll. After checking his pitch, the Herald begins:

🎶

Fee-Fei-Fiddle-E-Ooo! I deliver unto you this funky message, yo!

Max Kael is dead, a big oh no!

But he sent this missive on the down-low!

Follow the instructions and I pleased to say!

Custody of your son will be yours, hip-hip hurray!

Fee-Fei-Fiddle-E-Ooo! In this envelope is everything you need to knooooooooooow!

🎶

This has got to be a joke, right?

As Bryan ponders this, the Herald produces a crimson envelope and hands it to Bryan. He claps with joy at the Hawaiian’s acceptance of the letter.

“How wonderful! I look forward to seeing you again very soon! Ta ta!”

Just as quickly as the strange, gangly man child arrived, he disappears by scuttling quickly down the hall and around the corner, leaving Bryan to his lonesome. He attempts to process what he’s just witnessed but is again interrupted.

This time by an incoming FaceTime.

Shit.

He’s late.

Running back into the room, he casually tosses the envelope in the garbage can before diving into the computer chair.

“Hey - how are you? Sorry I’m late…I had a, uh–situation. All good though!”

🍍🍍🍍

Every interaction with Nicholas - or Nico as he, not his mother, preferred to be called - proved the old “apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” adage is true.

Much like his father, Nico is a talented natural athlete. A three sport one at that. Football, wrestling, track and field. The kid can do it all. District honors in all three sports.

Bryan couldn’t be more proud. It’s difficult for him to do anything but smile while on these calls.

“Yeah, we’re six and one right now and have a really good shot at playoffs.” Nico was beaming. “He had one interception and a handful of tackles last night!” Kai added. You can tell, she’s proud of their son. It’s all over her face.

Bryan almost doesn’t respond. “That’s awesome, Nico. A chip off the old block, right Kai?”

She smiles, remembering the days when the two were high school sweethearts back in Hilo. Bryan was a standout in both football and wrestling in high school.

“Of course. Your dad was all-state his Junior and Senior year in high school. Defensive back. Led the state in interceptions both years. He was all over the place.”

The former lovebirds stay silent. Meanwhile, their son cuts the awkwardness…with more awkwardness.

“So, did Adam Ellis really cheat with Vickie Hall?” Kai’s eyes nearly fall from her head. She playfully slaps Nico’s shoulder while staring daggers into the camera. As he massages his own neck in an attempt to relieve stress, Bryan attempts to buy himself time.

Shit.

“Heh…so, uh, you still watch, huh?”

Change

The

Subject

Nico grins and nods happily. A troublemaker, just like his father. Chip off the old block indeed.

“I think we should maybe talk about somethin’ else.”

He racks his brain looking for that something. Anything.

“Oh! Uh…so I was thinkin’ about sellin’ my condo back in Osaka. Move back to the states, ya know?”

“That’d be great! Why don’t you move to Seattle? You’d be close to us, then!” Ah, youthful exuberance.

Kai didn’t exactly have the same response. Instead, she gives a kind of blank stare at the screen.

“Yeah bud, obviously it’s early and I haven’t really figured out what the move will be, or when…but I’ve been thinkin’ about it! I know there’s a bruh I used to wrestle with in Bang! who would probably be interested in buyin’ it!”

The reality is, Bryan made a handshake deal with Wally Wallace, one of Coral Avalon’s former students, who was looking to stay in Japan long term. Dawkins had met Wallace through Coral during his time in Bang!, and when Avalon mentioned Wally might be looking for housing for a long-term residency, an idea formulated. At this point, there was only paperwork to draw up and execute.

“You know, these things take time, Nico. And with your father’s schedule, Seattle might not be the most convenient location.”

Yeah, take the hint, Bryan.

He knew that stern look anywhere. It is the same stern look he got when he and Kai split and Bryan gave up custody of Nico. He went on to live his dream as a full-time professional wrestler in Japan and she raised their son back in the states.

That look stings to this day. A painful reminder of the consequences of his own actions. His selfishness. His immaturity.

“Okay, well…I’d still really like it if you moved closer! Then we could see each other in person. There’s still time to see me play football and wrestle this year!”

“Of course, bud. I’d like nothin’ more than that…” His voice trails off.

Well, this is awkward.

“Well Nico, I think it’s time we let your father go. I’m sure he’s got traveling to do.” A quick glare. Let’s go, Bryan. Cut it. Also, we’re gonna talk about this later.

He can still read the sign language.

“Your mom’s right, bud. I’ve got to get goin’, but it was great catchin’ up again!”

“Thanks! See ya!”

“You too, bud. Catch you guys later…”

Nico happily waves goodbye to his father before the screen goes black and the call ends.

The anxiety rushes in like the storm surge from Hurricane Milton, crushing everything in its path and leaving Bryan feeling completely helpless.

Immediately, his body is covered in a cold sweat. The air conditioning is set to 64 degrees; he shouldn’t be sweating. The cottonmouth has set in. The heart palpitations are next. These bothered Bryan at one time, now he accepts them as part of the process.

He collapses on the bed and immediately attempts to calm himself by controlling his breath.

In, then out.

In, then out.

In, then out.

Control the breath, control the anxiety. At least that’s what Dr. Kim has told him on numerous occasions. He knows there’s a call with Kai coming that will be a heated follow up to the bombshell he just dropped.

He’s not trying to be a problem. He’s not trying to make things difficult or awkward. He’s just trying to finally be a good father.

But if Kai doesn’t want that, what’s the point?

Bryan closes his eyes slowly and continues the breathwork.

In, then out.

🍍🍍🍍

BZZZ BZZ BZ BZZ BZZZ BZZ BZ BZZ BZZZ

The phone’s vibrations catch Bryan off guard. It’s now been over 24 hours since the FaceTime, and he figured Kai would call sooner or later. He can hear it now…

What were you thinking just dropping that bomb on a call with our son without running it by me first? Are you looking for brownie points or what?

As he grabs the phone from the nightstand, he mutes the television and glances at the screen.

It’s not Kai.

Instead, Sunny O’Callahan’s fiery voice slices through the silence. She’s at MVW’s Heartland PPV, where a fingerpoke of doom would’ve been more competitive than the match Adam Ellis just had.

“Sunny, what’s goin’ on over there? I just watched the show…Adam got his ass handed to him. Looked like he was asleep at the wheel.”

What he hears next shocks him.

“You’ve got to talk to him. Adam’s been booked against Ivan Stanislav at 58.” He’s yet to check the card for ReVival 58. He puts Sonny on speaker as he checks the press release of the card.

“Adam was terrible tonight against Tiger Jackson. If he does that against Stanislav, Ivan will kill Adam… literally.”

As he checks the card, he sees that he’s been booked as well…against Sebastian Gold? He’ll address that later. Back to the matter at hand.

There it is, in black and white.

ADAM ELLIS VS. IVAN STANISLAV

Oh shit.

“Bryan! Are you listening to me?

Sunny’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“Oh, yeah–yeah, sorry!”

He tries to focus on the task at hand.

“Dammit, Bryan. Someone has got to get Adam’s attention and get him back in training. Tiger Jackson was a journeyman wrestler who weighed 200 pounds soaking wet if he was lucky. Ivan Stanislav is at least twice Jackson’s weight.”

“I mean, what can we do, Sunny? Adam’s got to get out of his own head. He made his bed, now he’s got to sleep in it.” Probably should have picked another metaphor. “The kid’s got to get his head outta his ass and realize what he’s up against. I’ll catch him when we get into town before the show, see if I can clear his head a bit.”

Bryan is attempting to show some veteran presence, but it’s hard to ignore the 400 pound Russian Bear in the room. Adam’s going to be up against it in a couple of weeks, and no one’s going to be able to bail him out. He’s on his own.

“This isn’t a match, it’s a public execution. In his current state of mind, Adam won’t fight back and after what Nate Colton did to Stanislav at ReVival 57, Ivan is going to hurt Adam badly if this match happens.”

He rubs his temples in an attempt to clear some of the brain fog. “Alright Sunny, I’ll see what I can do. We’ll be in touch.”

Poor kid. Makes one mistake and ends up being sent right to the executioner.

As he hangs up the phone, Dawkins peruses his opponent’s bio.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they took my bio from the ReVolution era and just changed the name.

He’s right - Sebastian Gold wrestles a style that Bryan is very familiar with. High flying, risk taking, win-at-all odds while putting on a show for the crowd type of style. As a matter of fact, his Gold Crush finisher is a carbon copy of Dawkins’ Hawaiian Hangover that won him many a match in his career.

Gold wrestles the kind of style that almost caused Dawkins his career nearly three years ago.

The kind of style Bryan knows exactly how to neutralize.

🍍🍍🍍

KNOCK

…

KNOCK

…

KNOCK

Groggy eyes glance over at the clock for the second time in twenty four hours.

2:42

This is getting old.

Bryan goes through the same song and dance as the previous evening.

You know, except for the whole ‘screaming bloody murder into his pillow before standing up’ part.

This time, there’s a difference. Although there’s a knock at the door, the peephole shows no perpetrator.

Maybe I’m hearing things.

He shrugs, turns back toward bed when he’s stopped in his tracks.

KNOCK

…

KNOCK

…

KNOCK

Throwing caution to the wind, he whips open the door.

“What the…”

A (very) short, (very) stout stub of a man stands at the door. His tunic is a very drab shade of green and he carries a flag adorning the Red Army’s signature hammer and sickle. His weathered gray hair is unkempt and matches his full, scruffy beard.

Dawkins is speechless.

“I…I don’t…” Dawkins manages to stammer.

"You got a stutter? Nobody said there'd be one of them handicapped people involved. Am I late?"

“I…uh…I…”

Without hesitation, this absolute bowling ball of a man pushes by Bryan and heads into the hotel room. As he hops onto the bed, he pulls a cigar from somewhere within the tunic and a lighter from elsewhere within the same tunic.

As he lights the cigar and takes a few puffs, Dawkins retrieves the red envelope from the trash can. As he rips open the envelope, he alternates concerning glances between the man smoking the cigar on his bed and the contents of the letter.

Each glance causes his eyes to widen a little bit more.

“So what you’re tellin’ me is…”

"...yeah, you're the Heralds safety detail." Responds the man.

“Okay so…where is he?” Dawkins replies.

Between puffs of smoke, the man hisses “You’re lookin’ at him, kid.”

“No, no…there’s got to be a mistake. I just saw the Herald last night.”

"Yeah, you met The Herald. I'm Giuseppe Gargamelo van Schlupp III, the Herald's Herald." burps the diminutive man. He scratches at a a tuft of chest hair peeking out through an uncomfortably steep V cut undershirt. "... You're responsible for the Heralds safety. Plural, kid!" He extends a stubby, yet brawny, hand.

“So, are we doin’ this or what?”

Dawkins reciprocates the handshake and exhales deeply.

What the hell is going on?