Scherlock Schwartz and the Sleuth Snafu

Bryan punched the code into the lock, not quite sure if he remembered the combination; the sound of the powered deadbolt springing to life was a sign of success. The last time he and Nico were in the house together was Christmas morning.

The smell of stale air hit them like a wave as they stepped into the empty home. Bryan hadn’t returned home since they left for the Australia and Japan tour thanks to the situation with Kai. That situation kept them far, far away from Seattle.

Remnants of the holiday season still littered the house. It was a jarring reminder of a better time.

“You want a pizza or somethin’?” Bryan asked as he and Nico hauled their luggage inside.

Nico pulled a wreath from the wall. “Dad? This is weird.” Food was the last thing on the younger Dawkins’ mind.

The boy was right. After placing their delivery order, Bryan and Nico spent what felt like hours de-Christmasing the house. By the time the pizza arrived, they were starving.

There’s something about pizza that pairs so well with doing an unenjoyable task. That’s why friends and family are always paid in pizza and beer when someone moves. Not to mention movers are expensive as hell.

A Mariners game played softly in the background. Neither of them were baseball fans but it didn’t really matter. They were still getting used to hanging out together without Kai in the mix.

Speaking of…

“You think we’ll ever find her, Dad?” Nico mused as he shoved decorations into a box. “I mean, I know I’m not supposed to ask and let you handle this…but it’s been a while.”

“We’re gonna find her.” The response was short and blunt. Bryan corrected course after realizing the error of his ways. “Sorry Nico. I’m just…I don’t know.”

“Regretting your decision?”

Oof. Harsh.

But also maybe a little bit true?

Dawkins set down the box of decorations and turned to his son. Turns out that in addition to his good looks, Nico also inherited Bryan’s lack of filter.

“Sometimes you have to make decisions that don’t make sense in the moment. You know, how you guys would run a handful of running plays with little success early in the game to set up a big play-action pass in the second half.” Nico cocked his head like a dog who just got asked if he wanted to go on a W-A-L-K.

“It might not make sense to run the ball on 3rd and 9 from your own twenty. But if you do that a couple series in a row, the other team’s safety is gonna think he knows what’s comin’ and load up the box hoping to stop the run. Then, when he’s all-in on that play, you pull the ball from the running back and throw it over the safety’s head.”

Nico still didn’t get it.

“...how does this have anything to do with Mom?”

“Nico…Max Kael took your mother. Best way I knew how to find her was to–”

The commercial caught Bryan’s attention.

“LIVE! FROM MONTREAL, QUEBEC - RED ARMY MEMBERS BRYAN DAWKINS AND KENNY FREEMAN TEAM UP TO TAKE ON CRASH JACKSON AND SEBASTIAN GOLD IN A PREVIEW OF ULTRAVIOLENCE!”

“Ivan found Kenny’s family. Why can’t he find Mom?”

Bryan’s heart immediately sank. He cleared his throat in an attempt to buy himself time to formulate a response. Nico wasn’t wrong - Ivan did find? Or release? Kenny’s family but came up empty on the mission to get Kai. It seemed like every day, Ivan and Alexei gave Bryan another reason to question his decision to join them.

Then again, what better option did he have? Was he going to track Kai down himself?

“He’s been trying, bud. They already knew where Kenny’s family was…it was just a matter of getting them out.” What a stupid excuse. Bryan knew it and so did Nico. “We almost found your mom back in Japan…we were just a little too late.”

Straight from Max Kael’s mouth.

“How long are you gonna let them fill you with excuses, Dad? I mean, it’s been months. Do you even know if she’s alive?”

Well, unless Max Kael got really good at deep fakes, she’s been on every episode of THE NEWS since Max returned. “She is.” Not much more to say than that.

DING

“Who is it, Dad?”

Bryan sighed when he saw the name attached to the text…Alexei Ruslan.

“It’s…Alexei” Bryan groaned.

“Good news. You team with Comrade Freeman.”

DING

“You can take notes from a winner and learn something.”

DING

“Be at Red Bear Retreat tomorrow afternoon. A plane will be ready for you.”

The oh-so-familiar knot in the stomach feeling returned, just like it had every time he got a text from Alexei, but this one was different. Taking shit from Alexei was one thing. Being forced to team with the guy that he envied more than anyone in the world in that moment was something else.

And now, just as they were returning to a semblance of normalcy by coming home to Seattle, they had to leave again.

“I’m teaming with Kenny at ReVival 69. And we’ve got to go to Minnesota to game plan. We’re flying out tomorrow.”

And then it happened. For the first time since being reunited, Bryan’s son had what some might call a rebellious teenager moment.

“Are you FUCKING kidding me, Dad? This has gotta be the world’s worst joke!” The boy seethed and turned crimson. “You spent the entire flight home talking about how you were done! How this was gonna be a new start!”

Bryan stared at his son as the veins in his neck began to bulge with rage.

“But now, Alexei texts you and you’re ready to drop everything and run right back to them! Maybe you made the right decision, after all. Maybe you’re just Ivan and Alexei’s new lapdog, ready to learn a new trick for your masters as long as they offer a treat at the end.”

He paced back and forth, trudging across the living room as he spit vitriol at his own father.

“You know the treat’s never gonna come, right?”

“Nico…”

“Don’t you DARE Nico me. I didn’t even know you a year ago!”

“Don’t say something you’re gonna regret.” This was far from a threat - this was a desperate plea from a father who was struggling to grapple with the terrible situation in which he’s found himself. Some of it was self-inflicted, sure. But all of it? That wasn’t fair.

“Regret? I regret that I ever wanted to know who you were. I regret that Mom’s gone.”

Meanwhile, at the Red Bear Retreat, Kenny Freeman found himself on the receiving end of a very different type of conversation with his friend, Randall Schwartz. The pair had been discussing Freeman’s brush of good fortune in recent weeks, culminating in the Masters of the Moscowverse’s successful reunion match against The Intruders. “Two wins, Kenny!” exclaimed The Entertainer, his eyes alight with amazement as he raised two fingers to accentuate the point he was making. “You’d might as well be challenging for the Alias Title or something, right?” “I don’t think a tag win is getting me up the rankings,” Kenny explained, shaking his head at the notion. “But I appreciate your enthusiasm.” “Always happy to help,” Randall replied with a smile, before the conversation was quickly interrupted by the chime of an incoming text message for Freeman. “You are teaming with Bryan Dawkins in Montreal,” Kenny read aloud, his face looking slightly confused by the news. “A couple so-called heroes need dealing with, and the two of you are just the ones to handle it. Show our new comrade what winning looks like.” “What!?” A bewildered Randall stated as he grabbed the phone from his compatriot. “But we just won our first match as a team in like a year! Why does he have you teaming with Dawkins?” Randall took a break from his inquiry to check the screen, which only exasperated his feelings on the matter. “Why is Alexei making Bryan team with you, anyway? Isn’t he still recovering from being attacked in Ottawa!?” This drew a raised eyebrow and then some from the former junior member of the Red Army. What was explained to the pair following the night and what Randall was talking about in this moment were two very different scenarios, and misinformation was not something to be taken lightly within their ranks. “The hell are you talking about?” he asked, slowly shaking his head. “That wasn’t what--” “Oh!” Randall exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. “Sebastian Gold was there, wasn’t he?” “Well yes, but…” “It’s alright, Kenny,” replied The Entertainer. “Scherlock Schwartz is on the case!”

It took hours to convince Nico to open the bedroom door and a few more to get him to agree to go to the airport. Nico couldn’t take back the things he said and Bryan wouldn’t ask him to anyway. What good would their relationship be if they couldn’t be honest with each other?

As the SUV drifted down the gravel road toward the mountain oasis that was Red Bear Retreat, little conversation was had. Both Bryan and Nico had spent more time here in the past few months than they’d have liked and now they’d have the entire compound to themselves. Well, not completely.

The vehicle slowed to a halt in front of the largest of the cabins which was home to Ivan Stanislav’s office and quarters. Bryan took a moment after stepping out into the wilderness to admire and appreciate the beauty surrounding him. No hustle, no bustle, just nature. Birds chirping, the sound of a nearby creek, no sign of humans. Well, none except…

“Greetings, Comrade Dawkins!” The first to approach Bryan and Nico was Randall Schwartz, curiously ditching his usual Red Army attire in favor of a loose-fitting tweed coat and deerstalker hat. Missing from the presentation was a pipe, but it was pretty clear what the Entertainer was going for. For his part, Kenny Freeman approached the group next, shaking his head with a sigh. “Hi, Bryan.” Dawkins greeted the duo with a stoic nod, silently assessing the situation in front of him. Eventually, he motioned to the getup on display by Randall. “What’s this about?” he inquired, immediately garnering a response from The Entertainer himself before Kenny could speak. “Scherlock Schwartz is on the case, my dear Dawkins!” he exclaimed, raising a finger to the sky. “Tonight, we are going to get to the bottom of who attacked you in Ottawa, either proving or disproving the involvement of one Sebastian Gold before you two face him and Crash Jackson this coming fortnight! Onward, Dr. Freeman!” With that, the self-proclaimed detective stomped away with a huff, leaving Kenny behind as Brian looked to his soon-to-be tag team partner. “Where did he get the idea that I was attacked?” he asked Kenny, the pair along with Nico watching as Randall shouted at a retreat staffer something about the game being afoot. “He likes to make up scenarios in his head,” replied Kenny with a light chuckle. “Alexei mentioned something about the Belmont Cup looking all beat up, and I think Randall, uh…misunderstood, thinking it was you.” “And you didn’t bother to tell him otherwise?” “And break his little heart?” Kenny asked in response. “Nah, letting him go on this little game of his keeps him busy. Plus, I wanna touch base with you on strategy and stuff for Montreal. Maybe, just maybe…we can figure something out about Crash and Bash going into that match.” “Alright, then,” Bryan stated, trying his best to hold back a sigh. “Whatever it’s gonna take to get ready.” “Excellent!” exclaimed Kenny with a smile, pulling a Red Bear Retreat map out of his pants pocket to hand over to his new comrade. “We’ll see you in the main hall tonight. In the meantime, enjoy the day with Nico. This will give ya a lay of the land. Go polar bearing in the creek, it’ll be fun!” A pat on the shoulder of Dawkins marked the signal that Kenny was taking his leave, another smile on his face as he waved to Nico before walking away.

Precisely what Bryan Dawkins walked into that night could best be described as a crime scene…well, sort of. Within the main hall of the retreat stood a nearly-perfect replica of the Ottawa Tire Centre locker room, complete with a long bench and a few metal lockers for the sake of authenticity. Bryan looked on with confusion as the Masters of the Moscowverse entered the room; Randall still adorned in his Holmesian finest, and Kenny…less so. “Mr. Dawkins, it is a pleasure to see you this evening,” stated Randall, motioning to the bench. “Please, have a seat.” Bryan obliged, sitting upon the bench as Randall walked over to one of the lockers. “As you can see, we’ve replicated the scene of the heinous crime that took place in Ottawa down to the last minute detail. Before we proceed, however, I must ask…did you bring the Belmont Cup?” Randall’s inquiry garnered a puzzled gaze from Dawkins. “Huh?” he asked, fighting the urge to scratch his head from just how odd the question was. “I can’t say that I got the memo, so…no, no I didn’t.” “Alas,” replied The Entertainer with a tisk tisk for good measure. “That’s okay, I’ve procured a suitable counterpart.” Randall opened the locker nearest to him, pulling out something that…vaguely resembled the Belmont Cup. More specifically, looking like a beat-up version of the trophy as found in Ottawa, but composed of as much Play-doh as Randall could find before this gathering. “Behold, Mr. Dawkins,” he added with a smile on his face. “What you see now is the Belmont Cup, the weapon used against you that fateful night…and here, now, we will solve the mystery of who attacked you.” Bryan lifted a hand to speak, but was cut off by Kenny. “Break it down for us, Sherlock,” Kenny stated with a nod. “What went down that night?” “Elementary, my dear Freeman,” replied the supposed sleuth. “Bryan Dawkins entered the locker room, no doubt exhausted from the sheer weight of carrying the title of Bruhest Man on the Planet.” Bryan raised an eyebrow at this, but opted not to refute the statement as Schwartz continued. “Dawkins took a seat on the bench as he is now, collecting his thoughts when…” Randall raised the Belmont Cup model, quickly lowering it back down with a shout. “Wham! Bam! Over and over, the culprit attacked our dear comrade with his own trophy.” The look on Bryan’s face made it quite clear how perplexed he was at this “recollection of events,” considering the actual trophy was in fact merely a victim of his own anger and frustration. He turned to Kenny for an aside, as Randall continued to ramble on with his perceived understanding of the night’s proceedings. “Is he always like this?” he asked Freeman, pointing at The Entertainer who, by this point, was pretending to be sprawled out on the floor as he presumed Dawkins was following the hypothetical attack. “And how do you put up with it?” “It’s a long story,” Kenny explained with a shrug. “But the short version is, we’ve known each other so long that I just…do. It’s easy to do that with your best buds.” “And who should be standing there the moment he gets back to his feet,” continued Randall as he rose up from the floor. “But one of the do-gooder Heroes himself, Sebastian Gold? One of the very men you two are set to face in Montreal, might I add?” “Ya’ve done it, Randall,” Kenny remarked, getting to his feet with a bit of applause. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?” “I think I’m telling you precisely what you think I’m telling you,” replied Randall with a nod. “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains--however improbable--is the truth…and the truth is, those so-called Heroes have it out for the Red Army!” “Now you’re cookin’ with gas, Randall,” Kenny stated, pointing at his friend with a smirk. “Hey, I like the sound of that,” Randall replied, briefly dropping the act of detective as he pulled out a small notepad to scribble something down. He placed the notepad and pen back in his pocket, composing himself before returning back to his earlier tone of voice. “Therefore, gentlemen, the culprit is none other than…Crash Jackson, the very man teaming with Sebastian Gold to face you in Montreal!” “Remarkable,” Bryan stated, rising to his feet to join Kenny in a round of applause. “You’ve stated a very strong case as to what happened.” “Yeah?” Randall asked, completely dropping the persona once more. “Ya think so?” “I do,” replied Dawkins with a nod. “Except for one glaring omission to the truth…can I tell him now, Kenny?” Freeman gave the inquiry a moment of consideration before nodding, allowing Dawkins to continue the point he was about to make. “Nobody attacked me in Ottawa,” Bryan stated, his voice sounding slightly gruff out of frustration. “The reason the Belmont Cup was all bent up was because I slammed the thing. I was angry and took my frustrations out on it…and then Gold showed up in the doorway.” “Oh,” said Randall, lowering his head at the realization that his whole murdery mystery scheme was for nothing. Kenny, who was unaware of what transpired that night beyond what he was told previously, found himself curious. “And what did ol’ Bash have to say?” “Nothing,” Bryan replied rather sharply. “Which is for the better, ‘cause I didn’t have anything to say to him.” Dawkins turned his attention to the now-dejected Randall. “Listen,” he said, his tone and face softening slightly. “I appreciate you trying to help, even if you were missing a few details. After all, it’s nice to see someone offering to help me.” “Well there ya have it,” Kenny interjected, a smile slowly growing on his face at the realization of this breakthrough. “We’re all in this together, like that one basketball team from High School Musical. I think, if nothing else, we can agree that Crash and Bash need to be--” “Squashed,” remarked Randall, notably trying to force the word to rhyme. “Dealt with,” replied Kenny, garnering a nod from Dawkins in response. “I think we’re really onto something here, fellas…we have a chance to prove just how strong the Red Army truly is.” “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure” Randall stated, returning to his persona one last time. “But the hour is late, and I must retire to my quarters. I bid you adieu.” With that, The Entertainer took a bow before leaving the hall. Kenny and Bryan shook hands, a silent agreement to work together at ReVival 69 to deal with their rivals, and then Freeman left the hall as well. As the last man standing, Dawkins looked back at the model “crime scene” with a furrowed brow, shaking his head before stepping away. As he stepped outside, the main thing on Bryan’s mind was how the coming week would pan out…and what his next steps would be.