ALL THE BRO LOVE

This is gonna be the moment where we expand your consciousness to the fuckin’ max, Sage.

You say that the pain attaches you to it all?

I can't say I hate that idea.

So let me show you the way it's gonna go, bro.

There's gonna be pain. Then there’s gonna be paaaaaain.

The type you feel when a friend takes your love away. The type you find when somebody decides you need the car treatment. The kind where you have so many words to say but can't get a single one back. 

The pain where you get…

Nothing back. 

You'll take this pain?

From me? 

Take this burden out of my soul? Take this weakness out of my bones? The pain I feel from letting everyone down around me…

You'll take this pain… from me?

Fat fuckin' chance, Brahtislava.

I'm the hot dog, bro.

You're the fuckin’ butter on the bun.

I'm not gonna burn under the sun like some chump. You’re not gonna take on my pain.

You're gonna fuckin’ feel it.

🌭

The hospital room wears a somber silence for the Hot Dog Hero. He’s just… there. In the room, however, are the LaRoques, Greg Davis, and a very Violent Purple. Her teeth haven't stopped grinding since Jacque told them after the big tag win. Greg holds a plastic cup, pours a shot from his flask, and watches Crash’s favorite redhead carefully. Broque pulls the phone from his head.

“Okay…” he takes his first breath in the last ten minutes. “His Mom and Dad are on ze way.”

VP snarls again. It’s not completely clear why Greg is the only one noticing this. He decides it’s a great time to take his hospital plastic cup beverage to help navigate should things ‘go South.’ Jacque drops his eyes, very sad. Broque doesn't but turns to Greg with fortitude. Their target of hope side-eyes VP.

“You boys really don't get it, do ya?” Greg’s voice is low and deep. “The only person who really ever cared about that girl is lyin’ in a fuckin’ coma right now.”

The LaRoques look at each other, pretty sure they both just fucked up, but turn back at Greg with fierce expressions.

“We ‘ave given our bro everyzing we can do, Greg…” Jacque does his best to be stern.

Broque knows it wasn't enough; “Zis is our bro, bro. We are here. Right now. Show me who else is?”

“She's right there, dumbass,” the Ego does his best not to stir the beast. “She's been here since he has… Have some fuckin’ class, kids.”

38 Minutes After the Almasy Brackets Were Announced…

“We’re gonna grab some air…” he's strangely timid in his tone. “You wanna join us?”

VP’s first face is snarl. That shifts into a chance to unclench her jaw. Greg gestures with an open arm. This whole ordeal has been taxing on everyone. He knows she at least needs some water and, probably, some fresh air.

The beeps and boops get to a reasonable level. VP takes Greg’s hand, knowing she can trust him and also kill him with a flip flop. The automatic door opens but their exit is interrupted by the doctor in charge. He slides in and closes the door behind him abruptly.

“You two are in charge of care for Mr. Jackson?” her eyes are on the tablet but are drawn up from the lack of response. “I’m not really sure how to say this…”

Greg doesn't let go of VP, unsure of what this means, but empathetically pulls her closer against the health advisory. The doctor sighs, shakes her head, before she shrugs.

“His CT scan and X-rays came back… somehow… fine.*

Greg and VP share an intrigued glance. The Ego waves off the thought of improper medical care. He points at Crash’s face. The bandages come off without hesitation. VP’s jaw drops. Greg turns to the presiding doctor.

“I don't know myself,” the doctor says without prompt. “I think it was the hotdogs that saved his life.”

Crash moves. It's not a lot but the sign they need to show that he’s still alive. The doctor steps to his bedside.

“If I had to guess,” the doctor drops his eyes and shakes his head. “That his unhealthy need for hotdogs was his buffer between his head and that windshield. I have never… I'm not sure what to say right now… but they saved his life.”

PRIOR TO REVOLUTION 69

Jason Jackson came back to his Uncle Jerry. Still not on the same level as the communal visitors, he was just happy to get to sit down and shoot the shit. Jason offers up his gift, Oatmeal Cream Pies, and asks if the officer will share them with his Uncle.

“Take a few for you too, dude,” Jason grins.

His Uncle Jerry is looking good, no fresh wounds at least, as he grips the phone. Jason does the same.

“Big match comin’ up, huh, kid?” Jerry starts.

Jason rolls his wrist, “Not Sure I’m walkin’ out of this one. I’m barely able to get back into shape after the last time I got in the ring with Bryan, bro.”

Dude’s on a warpath.

“You gotta smack ‘em in the teeth,” Jerry doesn’t pull his punch or gaze. “Teach ‘em a fuckin’ lesson.”

Easier said than done, Unk.

“These guys got all the reinforcements in the world behind ‘em, Uncle Jerry. I don’t think that’s gonna end well for anyone.”

There's that moment where Jason’s uncle drops his head. It’s not out of shame or embarrassment. It’s out of inexperience. Not his own but Jason’s inability to flip the switch that lets him, maybe, find his full potential.

“So what?” Jerry’s eyes pull up and lock. “Everyone you ever go against is gonna have something up their sleeve. They’re gonna find a way to get an advantage. Now… you’re gonna get your chance to turn the tables. Bash ‘n Crash, right?”

That’s my Golden Bro…

“So go show everyone what you two can do,” Jerry snaps with a smile. “There’s no goin’ back now.”

“I love and trust him but…” Jason reverts back to the lady he’s lost yet found and all the things that go around “Nobody can help me bring Purps back.”

“Look, Junior…” Jerry makes sure no listening ears are near. “I’m not here because of what I did. Your Dad doesn't tell you anything, does he?”

The fuck does that mean?

“I’m here because I love my family. And you’re…” Jerry’s eyes are dead set. “You are my family. She is your family. You need to do everything you can to bring her back to you.”

Jason doesn’t find the words fast enough. Jerry’s eyes narrow, noticeably, as the Junior Jackson searches for a reason.

“No matter what comes next...”

BZZZTTTT

Jerry stands up. His eyes don’t leave Jason’s. Never parting their gaze, it feels like the two Jacksons understand one another more than some others have their entire lives. Jerry shoots a smirk and wink at his nephew. Jason takes it in, absorbing the look into his soul.

“Out in three months, kid,” he barks through the glass. “Save me a seat.”

🌭

Crash rises from a foggy surface. The skies above take on the flashes of lightning and booms of thunder. He can’t really get his footing as the ground rattles under him. Through the flashes, however, six shadows emerge. None are definitive yet none come across as a non-threat. One is nearly one hundred feet tall. Another is a white shadow, so Golden that it barely registers as a threat and more as an opportunity.

Crash thinks none the wiser and climbs to his fet, fists balled, and ready for a war. Not a battle. Battles last for days.

This is going to take months.

The white shadow whisps by, super cool, but his eyes land on the dreads that are in his perspective. The other five shadows? They don’t matter.

Not yet, bro.

The Northern Light is quick to focus on the laid-back, love-first savage stepping in front of him. They lock eyes. Empty fuckin’ eyes. One wants vengeance for the pain caused by others upon the woman he thinks he loves. The other one locks onto the guy who can help him progress his violent agendas. That draws the most sincere snarl from Crash.

The other shadows hover, trying to get a sneak peak as to who they might have to go up against in the future. Crash is quick enough to forget about the others and focus on his task at hand. The irony of it all is that Mr. Dreads is flying at Crash at a rapid, accelerated rate and all he can do is plant his feet and stand his ground. The clash is strong but mutually effective. Being pushed back ten feet gives Crash the message.

It’s time to go hard. 

Dreads locks his stance. Crash mimics the motion. They fly at each other yet again.

Real fuckin’ hard.

🌭

Jacque and Broque LaRoque usher Crash’s parents into the room. Greg, standing by VP’s side, look up with much surprise. The pair don’t budge, sticking by his bedside, even though the Hot Dog Hero is now awake and alive. Jason’s mother enters the room, on her phone, and waves her hands around.

“Oh,” she shouts dramatically. “He’s awake! I will have to call you back, Gloria. I’m just so thankful you reached out.”

His Dad isn’t as dramatic and rushes in, gripping his son’s hand, and wraps his other hand around Jason’s neck. They share a warm embrace.

“I’m alright, Dad,” Crash says, trying to stifle the emotions in the room. “Nothing Jim Kelly couldn't deal with.”

Greg and VP share a glance. It’s not judgmental. It’s empathetic. Then the mod is ruined by the shrieking tone of a deaf-tone, selfish bitch.

“How did this happen Jason? We were on our way to Albuquerque and had to change our flight to… here.”

His mother eyes Greg and VP, finally, with an up and down glance. VP snarls. Greg grips her shoulder, reminds her of the company they're in, and produces the most insincere of smiles. Crash catches the interaction but, instead of firing off, he decides to play referee.

“I’m alright, Ma,” his words are soft yet stern. “I don’t know how but… these two saved my life.”

If they weren’t with me, I might be long dead by now.

“Well you were in a coma for three days and then-” she stops complaining when Crash pulls his hand up. It’s a simple gesture. “So how are th-”

Crash opens his hand then closes it. Signalling that it’s time for her to stop talking. Nobody does that to her so her natural instinct is to press on. Crash doesn’t allow it.

“You haven’t given me an ounce of support since I decided that I wanted to do this,” his tone is sharp as a ripened stone. “So you don’t think any of this matters anyway.

Jason’s mother puts a hand to her chest. She isn’t able to defend herself because she hasn’t given her son any thought since he left home and decided to pursue his dreams. Their eyes lock, knowing one another has nothing to say, before his eyes turn to his Dad.

“I love you, Dad…”

I’ll always love you.

“But you’ve just gone along with what she says,” his eyes shift. “Since I can’t remember when.”

His father doesn’t offer any combative body language. He knows he’s dropped many balls. What he doesn’t know about is his son’s conversations with his Uncle Jerry. Jason Sr. sees the glint of distrust in Jason Jr.’s eyes and flinches. He knows he’s been found out and, more importantly, called out.

“These two have been by my side since I got here…” Crash grips VP’s hand, still timid because he’s not sure if it’s gonna lead to an armbar. “And you can’t discount them from my life.”

VP looks up at Greg, still snarling, but wearing a proud smile. The Ego presses his fingers into her shoulder, recognizing that they’re the good people in this situation. They both embellish the idea that they’re being good people for the first time in a long, long time. Crash catches their glances and grins and eye drops.

“This is my support staff,” he says emphatically. “This is my family.”

There’s a tense moment between the four people not in a hospital bed. His mother shares a glance with his father, both looking at VP, who has gripped Crash’s hand at the last set of words he spoke. Greg definitely stands behind her, ready to argue any sentiment she doesn’t belong here, before they all look at Crash.

“Everything I’ve ever wanted is right in front of me…” his words fade. “I can do this.”

His mother shrieks again, “You were in a coma, Jason! We need t-”

“He’s right,” his Dad pipes in. “He’s right there.”

Greg steps up, “He is.”

Crash can’t help but recognize the feelings in the room. A lot of concern.

A lot of belief too, bro.

“This kid has been the one ringin’ the bell,” Greg says, no script. “He’s been fighting since he got here. First year? Gauntlet.”

Well it was a pretty tough year…

“Takes a screwdriver to the head?” Greg’s tone and scoff says it all.

Goddamn Max…

“Gets the girl he wants to love, back as a mute?” VP and Greg share a quick, understanding glance.

Nobody deserves that, bro.

“Crushed by a car?” The Ego is quick to point at their fallen warrior.

“Now,” without a look at Buffalo’s Finest, he presents his final arguments. “He’s gotta walk into a pool of sharks and hope he doesn’t get eaten alive. Will it be tough?”

Crash and Greg split a moment of unison.

“Damn right it will,” the Golden One chirps.

“But I know he can do it,” those words pull in a strong grip from VP.

His parents look at one another. Neither has known the struggles their son has gone through. Only the highlights. They don’t see the times he comes home and is faced with the fact he may never get the real Violent Purple back. They don’t see how he is not a champion. They don’t get why he’s in this hospital bed at all. There’s another genuine shoulder drop from both as Greg carries on.

“Your kid is a Hero,” he stops, nodding at Crash. “Every sense of the fuckin’ term.”

Crash turns to talk but notices the emotions on his parents’ faces. He stops. VP clasps his hand without aggression. Greg doesn’t stop and loses all of his fucks given

“If you’re not proud of that…” his eyes drift to VP, then to Crash, then back to his parents. “Then you’re not gonna be proud of what he does next.”

🌭

Been here before, Sage.

You and me, anyway.

Not for this.

Not…. for this.

Member me, bro?

Guy who had his first win against you and Richy P?

Didn't expect all of this.

I came with a little hype. 

Stupid YouTube 

But then I won.

After losing… a lot.

Hasn't been as regular as I'd hoped but, hey… hope in one hand, right?

Now, I'm back in the Almasy.

With plenty of scores to settle.

I'm not sure I'll be able to do this but… 

I'll do my fuckin' best.