Finding Your Footing

The paths of the Red Army have shockingly diverged in recent weeks, even in the midst of some serious sensitivity training at ReVival 69. Some amongst us were destined to enter a chamber of war…and walk out victorious, surviving the most grueling of circumstances. Others were destined to engage with battles all their own, and come up short. So, what path did ol’ Kenny Freeman take? Some rundown highway miles outside Moscow, “on assignment” so the rest of the Army can sort out their business at the supershow. Randall asked me to join him on what I believe to be the weirdest goose hunt of all…securing the master recordings of one Haylor Swift. What’s that? You don’t know about the biggest pop sensation in the Multiverse? Gah, it’s too tough to explain now. What I can do, however, is tell you how this trip went down. Pay attention, there will be a quiz later. - 05.29.25 Just Outside St. Petersburg, Russia What a weird night that was. Heading down on the road heading northwest, quite some distance from the Red Army Base for that matter. Apparently, Randall’s contact gave him strict instructions to meet in St. Petersburg of all places to make the deal. What’s worse is having to make this trip immediately after the funeral. We all found different ways to process the feelings surrounding that day, and mine was to keep busy.

The hours that followed were a blur to me, made all the more annoying by the headache I had the whole time we were on our way to meet the seller. Then the engine went kaput. One moment we’re hauling ass down the road to meet up with whoever this is, listening to some song with the line “I see glue fly whenever you smile”…and the next, we’re stuck. Made me mad as hell, I’ll be honest. I was just getting into that tune, too. “Did you make sure to keep it in H?” I asked Randall, feeling like I’d made the biggest mistake of my life letting my buddy take the wheel this time around. I was still feeling the headache and everything else, so driving was out of the question…but if I’d known Randall was gonna leave us stranded out in the middle of nowhere, I would’ve handled it myself. Randall’s response? The dude just shrugged at me, scratching his head as he took a look under the hood. That did not help matters, and neither did his phone ringing when I tried to press him a little further. “H-yello?” I could tell he was not going to answer my question, so I took to having a peek at the state of the engine while he handled whatever business he had. Sure enough, the thing was fried as all get out. I slammed the hood shut, muttering under my breath about the absolute horse manure regarding the piece of junk, when I overheard the tail end of Randall’s conversation. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed, his eyes widened in delight as he looked at me with a smile. “We’ll see you soon, then.” With that, Randall ended the call and pocketed his phone. Lemme tell ya, he was very happy indeed, and when I asked him why he was more than eager to share.

“The seller sympathizes with our situation,” he explained. “They’re meeting us here within the hour.” “Well that’s good,” I replied, shaking my head with a sigh. “But how are we getting back on the road after this little rendezvous?” “They’re arranging transportation,” was all I got back from Randall. I acquiesced on the matter, because let’s face it, we weren’t exactly getting back on the road by ourselves at this point. We got back in the car and waited, because Randall didn’t wanna be out in the open should any coyotes pop up…and yes, I explained to him that coyotes aren’t really a thing in Russia. He shifted his worry onto bears, and I told him that was fair enough. Within the hour, Randall said. Naturally, we spent about two watching truck after van after car pass us by, not a single bit of help in sight until an SUV rolled up, flashing its lights and blaring the horn at us…which was good, cause about five minutes prior I had finally passed out from exhaustion. Lovely stuff. Anyway. The vehicle pulled up in front of us on the side of the road, and you wouldn’t believe who I saw behind the wheel. Remember the feral-looking Randall that escaped the base a few weeks back? Yeah, someone got the bright idea to let him drive that car, which…considering ours handled the very same trip, you can imagine the pattern. Sure enough, out of the car stepped that etiquette-ridden Kenneth and that furry nuisance of a kitten. I knew something was up, because last we’d heard of these three they were stolen away by some RoboKen, something I immediately raised a red flag about. “So where’s that bucket of bolts?” I asked, which got a laugh from Kenneth and the kitten, too. I’ll be honest, I didn’t know cats even had a sense of humor, but I guess that would explain dropping stuff off a counter when being told no. “I heard there was some Freemanator runnin’ round Russia with you three in tow.” “The truth may in fact be stranger than fiction,” Kenneth replied, confirming this guy had as bad a thing for spouting off idioms as I do. “He went searching for you specifically for the past week, opting to let us go when he couldn’t get what he wanted.” “Now see, I don’t believe that for a damn second,” I snapped back, pointing my finger at the so-called gentleman. “But since we’re on the topic of you being here…” I trailed off, staring at Randall who had just woken up as well by this point. He took one look at the crew and his eyes shot wide open. “What are you doing here!?” my buddy sure was exasperated, and for some reason that got another laugh from the pair of Kennys standing in front of us. “Okay, you got us,” the kitten finally responded with a chuckle. “The whole ordeal we went through is something that I’d rather not get into right this second…but to make a long story less long, that robot eventually brought us to St. Petersburg and got us connected with the legal team of Haylor Swift.” “Haylor Swift,” I muttered to myself, trying to process where I’d heard the name before…and then, like a stack of bricks glued together, it hit me. “The ‘Welcome to Glue York’ guy?” Naturally, this got Randall singing that goofy ass song from inside the car. I’ll send it to you later, you’ll know what I’m talking about. It’s a banger. Anyway. “One and the same,” replied the kitten. “Turns out, the rights to his master recordings got thrown across the Multiverse thanks to whatever the hell got us on this Earth in the first place, and somehow landed right in the middle of Mother Russia.” Now, at this point you might be wondering the same thing I was, because goodness knows I asked Randall as soon as this crossed my mind. “So what are we buying?” None of this made any sense to me. Randall said there was a seller, but he never told me what the hell they were selling. Something wasn’t adding up, and you know how I feel about math. “Credit,” he replied. I shot him a look of confusion because that word could mean anything, but thankfully Randall was quick to clarify. “Credit for the transaction with Haylor’s people.” Well, it made a little more sense at least. I shook my head at him, thinking precisely what I think you’re thinking…that this was the dumbest move we’d made as a pair yet. And believe me, we’ve made our fair share of goofy decisions. Best of One Fall comes to mind. “The names on the contract do read Kenny Freeman and Randall Schwartz,” added Kenneth. “But, with your help and support to get us back on our way home, we can ensure it’s the Masters of the Moscowverse who are credited with saving pop music as we know it.” I had my doubts about the whole thing, but Randall was quick to chime in. “Count us in,” he said, pulling out a stack of cash. He still hasn’t told me where the money came from, but the apparent sellers took one look at the stack and nodded in approval. Hopefully this cash isn’t coming out of the budget or something. Anyway. From there, we got a ride to St. Petersburg, signed the contract over the Multiversal equivalent of a Zoom meeting, and after a lovely chat with the man himself the Swift team beamed us some sweet Haylor swag. Seriously, look at this shirt. It is, as the kids would say, totes adorbs. I know what you’re thinking, this guy does look an awful lot like--hey, wake up! - 06.12.25 Undisclosed Location A long, drawn-out explanation of past events brings us to a curiously nondescript hotel room as Alexei Ruslan, clearly tired after the amount of travel and stress from the past few days, can be seen nodding off in a chair. Kenny, who looks none too pleased to have to break from his story time, moves from his seat on the bed to give the agent’s leg a slight smack, startling him awake. Ruslan opens his eyes to get a better look at Freeman, who is indeed sporting a Haylor Swift t-shirt as part of the deal that was struck, before opening his mouth to speak. “Sorry, Kenny, you were saying?” “C’mon, man,” Kenny replies, shaking his head. “I’m trying to explain how big a deal this Haylor Swift thing ended up being, and you’re falling asleep on me! When did I lose you?” Ruslan takes a moment to think about this, finally remembering with a nod of his own. “Around the time you said a kitten told you about some pop star,” he states, forcing Kenny to let out a heavy sigh in response. This does not bode well with Alexei, who wakes up even more as he furrows his brow. “Kenny, you’ve told me a lot of your multiverse travel tales before, but this one is a real stretch of my patience.” “Listen, Alexei,” Kenny states, raising his hands to help somehow illustrate the point further. “Haylor Swift is a big frickin’ deal, and the reason I’ve been rambling for the past fifteen minutes about it is because of what I still need to do to finish what I started.” “What are you even talking about?” Ruslan asked, his face displaying precisely the level of confusion one would expect from such a conversation. “Before you started this little tall tale of yours, I was talking about your expected performance in this year’s Almasy Invitational tournament.” “And it just so happens, that’s exactly where I’m going with all this,” replied Kenny with a smile. “Somehow, someway, Haylor Swift is to pop music what Hayes Hanlon is to professional wrestling and PRIME specifically. A household name. Haylor Swift swept last year’s MMAs--” he stops at the sight of Ruslan scratching his head. “--the Multiverse Music Awards, and Hayes Hanlon is a Triple Crown winner. The main difference between these two? Haylor is a dream to talk to, and Hanlon is practically the bane of my existence.” Kenny stops for a moment, composing himself as Alexei nods in agreement. “I understand,” he states gruffly. “You never quite got over losing to him when you previously faced off. The 2023 Almasy was a rough path for you…but that’s why I need you focused.” “I am focused,” Kenny snaps back. “I’d dare say I’ve never been more focused in my life. You think I enjoy feeling like the laughingstock of the Red Army? Everyone else has had clear goals and aspirations since we came back from the winter break, but for me it feels like the snow never cleared out of Moscow, you know?” “I’m not sure I follow,” replies the agent. “But I do understand your frustration. Expectations have been high for all of us, especially in recent weeks. Starshy Praporshchik is making preparations ahead of his Almasy fight, and he trusts you’ll be doing the same.” “Of course,” Kenny replied with a nod. “After all, a Red Army tide through at least part of the tournament will do wonders for morale…especially when I get to give Ivan the fight of his life in a future round.”

This leads to a moment of tense silence, building until Alexei lets out a hearty laugh.

“That’s the spirit,” he says, patting Kenny on the back. “I will leave you to your plans for now, but make sure you’re ready to take on Hayes Hanlon next week. We’re all counting on you to find your footing again…and to put a wrench in the glue, so to speak.” With that, the agent takes his leave from the room, allowing Kenny a moment to process things on his own as he mutters to himself.

“A wrench in the glue…sounds like he’s been hanging out with Randall a little too much.” Kenny chuckles as he pulls out his phone, fumbling around with the controls to put on some music and raise the volume before rising from his bed. The last thing we see and hear is Kenny singing along with the music before we fade to black. 🎶 Drop everything now, meet me in the pourin’ glue Kiss me on the sidewalk, take away my blues Cause I see glue fly whenever yooooou smile… 🎶