The Third Album by Destiny’s Child, Track 3

07.10.26 Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Kenny Freeman walks through the door of the Team Troy lodging, beaten down and exhausted after the Aggro Crag took him to task at ReVival 90. He can barely think about anything else but the sweet release of sleep as he stumbles toward his quarters. The remainder of the squad heads to their own sleeping arrangements, likely already thinking about the travel to Detroit for the next phase of Survivor, but Kenny’s mind is firmly fixed on getting a much-needed eight or so hours of rest before he has to pack everything up and head to the next town.

Freeman drops his gear bag on the floor, flopping onto his bed. Before he can knock out for the night, however, he takes a look at his makeshift “promo studio” over in the corner. The ring light standing on the desk, a folding chair sitting in front. He can hear the sweet siren song calling to him, desperately trying to pull him away from the comfort of his bed.

Speak your mind, Kenny. Tell them how you feel.

“I can’t,” Kenny mutters, the fogginess of his mind from being this tired really starting to get to him as he tries to close his eyes.

Coward!

This makes Kenny widen his eyes, a mixture of surprise and confusion rushing over him.

“What in the No Way Home…”

His voice trails off as he reluctantly obliges the call, clambering from the bed to the studio. As he approaches the ring light to turn it on, he gets a ping from his phone. He unlocks the screen, checking his messages to find an early update on what awaits him on the next Survivor challenge in Detroit, Michigan.

“Hope you remembered how to ride a horse and hold a lance, because we’re heading to Medieval Times!”

Kenny just stares at his phone for a moment, one eyebrow raised quizzically at the reveal.

“What is this, grade school?” he asks himself, instantly thinking back to a school field trip from back in the day. He doesn’t give himself much time to dwell upon it, however, as he sets the phone up to record. He drops onto the chair, clearing his throat as he tries to collect his thoughts in his state. With that, Kenny looks directly into his phone, rubbing his eyes before taking a deep breath and muttering to himself once more.

“It’s showtime.”

We did it, Freebirds. Somehow, someway, your boy survived the Aggro Crag. Straight-up victory was just out of reach, but considering Kerry Kuroyama and Steve Lemieux got eliminated I will take whatever I can get. Gawd, I am so tired.

Sorry, lemme focus.

So, week 1 is in the books… that means it’s done and dusted, by the way… and there is no rest for the weary as the gang prepares to go medieval on each other with a Medieval Times style tournament. I’m assuming that means riding on horses and getting ready to joust each other all night long. I can feel you staring at me, stop that. You know what I mean.

I can’t shake the feeling that as lucky as I feel getting into Survivor in the first place, somehow destiny is smiling upon me. I mean hell, first I get to revisit my childhood dream of being on Nickelodeon GUTS and now I get to revisit a school field trip by actually being a knight? Holy moley, talk about a nostalgia trip.

Lemme tell ya a little story, Freebirds. The year is 1997… yes, a year that doesn’t start with a 2, shocker I know. Your boy was in fourth grade and the class headed out to Medieval Times to enjoy the sights and sounds of the show. From the presentation of the King and his knights to the tournament… what a time. Jousting, sword fighting, the whole nine yards. Loved it so much it gave me the crazy idea of performing in front of an audience.

Fast forward to 2001, seventh grade, and your boy was learnin’ world history like crazy. Guess where the class went for a field trip to see a real life version of roughly what took place at a specific period of time? That’s right… Medieval Times. There are some things you get to experience once in a lifetime… but twice? That might be destiny.

Somehow, the moment was just as magical the second time ‘round. Kinda funny looking back on it especially after really learning the history of the time period… but I am not here to give you a lecture. That’s not the point, the point is that I had a hell of a time enjoying the show and that delicious feast. Gawd, I could go for a chicken leg right about now. Mmm… what were we talking about? Oh, right.

The Aggro Crag showed just how cutthroat this whole Survivor thing can be. Rob Williams literally stomping out Kerry and Steve to get them eliminated is crazy work, and is exactly the kind of thing I am dreading as we get ready to mount up Regulator style.

When it comes to riding a horse, man, I think that’s a new one for me. I remember my momma telling me “don’t get on any pony rides” while I was at Santa’s Village that one time, that’s as far back as I can remember even getting near a horse aside from the petting zoo. The less we talk about that the better.

But a steady hand on the lance and a steady eye on your opponent? That much is within my range of ability. Gawd help me when it comes time for the sword fight, but I think I can handle it well en… zzz…

Sorry, it’s been a late night. Serves me right doing this now instead of later. Like I was saying, being to Medieval Times once is a dream. Twice is a blessing. But, as the old saying goes, the third time is the charm… and to quote Talking Heads, this MUST be the place.

Everything I’ve been through has somehow prepared me for a battle that will make everyone take notice. Any remaining doubts that Kenny Freeman cannot hang will be put to rest when I go to the dance… and believe me, THIS is the dance.

Even if I gotta duke it out with Tony Gamble or my Starshy Praporshchik, I know what needs to be done to advance in this competition. I don’t think Ivan or Tony would go easy on me, so who am I to disappoint them with anything less than MY best, right?

Lotta moving parts in building a strategy here, but things will shake out better once we head to Detroit for ReVival 91. In the back of my head I’m thinking some way to clear out Vae Victis from the proceedings would be extra nice. I still got my beef with Scott Hunter, if I’m extremely lucky I can knock him off his high horse.

Heh, high horse.

I think the guy with the biggest target on his back right now is Nathan Lake, coming off the outright win at the Aggro Crag. Can’t let that man win two challenges in a row, you know? Nuh uh, ain’t got time for any of that mess.

Detroit is about to go from being Motor City to Medieval City, and your boy Kenny is about… to win one… for the Ki--zzz…

Kenny jolts awake, his eyes opening in a panic as he looks around. He is no longer in his room, and the sight he beholds just confuses him even more: a dimly-lit field of dirt and dust, a wall surrounding him as the “junior” member of the Red Army gets to his feet. He brushes the dust off his body, checking to make sure his hands are clean before rubbing his eyes to get a better sense of where he’s at. He finally takes notice of what’s on the walls, racks of various medieval-style weapons… and behind them, a vast crowd of Kenny Freemans.

Freemen? No, definitely Freemans. Kenny scratches head, trying to figure out if he’s in a dream or some Council of Concerned Kennys trial BS. Before he has time to think about this any further, a bright spotlight fills the room as a voice booms over the P.A. system.

“Kenny Freeman of Earth-17, you have been sentenced to trial by combat for your crimes against the Multiverse. Your opponent should be familiar to you… sort of.”

Just as the voice stops speaking, we see what they’re referring to as a man decked out in medieval gear makes his way to the field. It takes Kenny a moment to recognize the face underneath the helmet, but when he does…

“Randall?”

Curiously, the man standing in front of him is a bit tall to be the Entertainer we’re familiar with, but such is the roll of the dice when dealing with multiversal matters.

“Presenting, the champion of this trial,” the voice booms upon its return. “Randall ‘Chip’ Freeman of Earth-96, cable technician extraordinaire and master of the pop culture reference.”

“Groovy,” remarks Chip, twirling his mace around with a twisted smirk as he approaches Kenny… who, thankfully, has been presented armor of his own by two serfs.

He hastily puts the armor and helmet on before running to the wall to grab a broadsword… and not a moment too soon, as he turns around just in time to deflect a shot from the man resembling his friend.

“Hey man,” Kenny says to the challenger. “I dunno what these guys told you, but we don’t need to do this.”

“Frankly, my dear,” replies Chip with a light yet sinister chuckle. “I don’t give a damn.”

The choice of reference confuses Kenny, but his raised eyebrow is replaced with widened eyes as he narrowly dodges another shot. Kenny shakes his head, refusing to fight this man… partly because of the fact he looks like his pal, but mostly because he’s not trying to get beaten to a pulp before his next wrestling appearance. Chip takes one more swing at Freeman, who uses his sword to pull the mace away from the technician. Dropping his own weapon, Kenny decides instead to charge at Schwartz, tackling him to the ground.

“Enough!” he shouts, holding the taller man down by his shoulder… until Chip grabs a handful of dirt, throwing it in Kenny’s face.

“Pocket sand!” he yelps, pushing Freeman away before rising to his feet. He grabs the sword, looking to finish the job he was brought in for… but a flash of blue light catches him by surprise. He blocks the light with his hand, barely making out that Aeon Khronos has arrived for the save. Just as Chip tries to take a swing at the pair, they disappear with another flash of light.

“What the hell happened!?”

Kenny is beside himself as he and Aeon resurface inside the vessel of the cosmic traveler.

“Well,” Khronos responds as the pair take a seat. “It seems your namesake compatriots are finally making good on punishing you for my mistakes. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

“They tried to kill me… and with a Randall, of all people!”

“Of course,” replies Aeon. “Kenny and Randall, a pair of star-crossed…”

His voice trails off as he notices a slight glare from Freeman, who doesn’t seem to like where that sentence is going.

“...friends, across the multiverse.”

“Oh,” remarks Kenny with a light sigh of relief. “I mean, I can’t speak for the rest of the Kennys in the cosmos, but Randall and I are strictly pals. That’s all I was getting at.”

“I’m sure,” Aeon states, giving a bit of side-eye as he shakes his head. “It’s not all about you, Kenny.”

“ExCUSE me?” Kenny says, exasperated by the remark. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but again… the other Kennys just tried to KILL me. I think I’m allowed to be a little selfish right now.”

“Well, on a slight change of subject,” Aeon replies, skipping past the reaction from Kenny as he looks to his side. “Where IS your pal, anyway? You two are usually joined at the hip.”

“I have no clue,” Kenny says, letting out a sigh as he shakes his head. “I was honestly hoping you’d picked him up after he got kicked out of the Team Troy housing. He disappeared before I could make sure he got his belongings, so if he’s not with you…”

??.??.?? Unknown Location

Randall startles awake, sitting up to realize for the first time that he is not in Pittsburgh anymore. As a matter of fact, it’s unclear where in the world (or at least, the Tristate area) he actually is, given he is sitting in the back part of a large van.

“Where am I?”

His question is met with silence for just a little too long at first, forcing The Entertainer to turn his attention to the front seats. He sees Jon Malakai at the wheel, making a left turn that forces Schwartz to roll toward the opposite wall with a light thud that catches the big man’s attention.

“Sorry about that,” he remarks. “I let you take a nap while I got on the road. We’re heading to Detroit to keep tabs on Freeman. Lost sight of him after the PRIME show the other night, but he’s not one to miss a booking.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Randall replies with a chuckle. “So what’s your deal, bud? Why are you so focused on Kenny?”

Jon takes a moment to collect his thoughts, slowly bringing the van to a stop so he can safely turn his attention to Randall.

“Months ago, I was in the middle of speaking to my congregation when a bright flash of light filled the sanctuary. I thought it marked the moment of bliss my flock and I were waiting for… but it turned out to be a nightmare. I lost track of my people, wandering around until I was informed of something called the Council of Concerned Kennys. The one who told me this said I needed to seek out the one residing in THIS world, and get him to speak to the Council on my behalf. It’s the one chance I have of going back to my people, to shepherd my flock back on the right path.”

“Wait a minute,” Randall interjects, taking what feels like forever to figure out where he recognizes Malakai from. His eyes widen when it finally clicks. “You’re the guy that won last year’s Belmont Classic!”

“Yes, yes,” Jon replies with a light sigh. “I was recruited into that competition by the one who told me about the Council. He said that winning the Classic would bring me closer to Freeman, but neither he nor his counterparts showed up.”

“Recruited?” Randall asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I was told most competitors in the Classic represented a wrestling school,” Malaki states with a nod. “I insisted that I could not represent a path that was not my own, and that was the last I heard from the man running Academia Fuerza.”

“Fuerza…” Randall says, connecting even more of the dots in his mind before cracking a smile. “Oh shit, Axel the Shark’s school!”

“Who?”

The reply throws Randall off for just a moment, brushing it off as he approaches the passenger seat across from Malakai.

“Buddy, that practically makes us classmates,” he says with a laugh as he puts the safety belt on. “Kenny got me into that school to learn the ropes again. So hell, maybe this is destiny. Off to Detroit we go, pal!”

Jon finally lets out a smile of his own before starting up the van, pulling away from the curb as they get ready for the next leg of their cross-country adventure.

Elsewhere…

Returning to the AirBNB in Pittsburgh in a flash of light is a grandfather clock landing on the front porch. The door on the front swings inward, a feat of physics as Kenny steps out of the clock to find a set of suitcases by the door. On one of them is a small postcard, which Kenny pulls off to read out loud as a ticket drops to the ground.

“Next time you’re gonna disappear, take your crap with ya bud,” reads the message, signed by Cancer Jiles. Kenny lets out a small sigh at the realization that the rest of Team Troy left him behind to make the trip to Detroit. He kneels down to pick up the ticket, instantly recognizing the logo and details as a special presentation of Medieval Times ahead of ReVival 91, when he faces the PRIME version of the tournament to advance in Survivor.

“Groovy,” he says with a smile, putting the ticket in his pocket before turning to step back into the clock. With another flash of light, the clock disappears out of sight just as we hear him shout with joy to his companion. “Destiny awaits!”