First Call, Last to Fall

07.25.26 Detroit, Michigan

The morning after ReVival 91 is a weird one for Kenny Freeman. Waking up to see the AirBnB a little less busy as the remainder of his team makes their way out on whatever trip they’re taking to the next town, the realization hits him that the insanity of Medieval Times cleared out his least favorite part of Team Troy, but it also put the first dent in the Red Army’s dominance of the field with Tony Gamble. On top of that, the thrill of making it to the final eight… slowly drowning in a sea of fear and dread over the fact the competition is about to really ramp up.

“So it begins,” Kenny mutters to himself, shaking his head as he realizes precisely the predicament he’s in now. “Time to kick things up a notch.”

He packs his belongings up, ready and eager to be on his way as he makes his exit through the front door. Waiting for him on the porch is that all too familiar grandfather clock, the door creaking open. Kenny carefully steps through the door, entering the clock as the door closes behind him. As a blue light flashes to hide the pair’s departure, a van seating an entirely different pair pulls up to the lodging. Jon Malakai looks on in confusion at the disappearing act from the driver’s seat, and Randall Schwartz hangs his head in shame realizing they got here just a little too late.

“You gotta be kidding me,” remarks The Entertainer, who turns his attention to the man beside him. “Can’t this thing get any faster!?”

The tone in Randall’s voice nearly takes Malakai aback, but he quickly responds with a glare that makes Schwartz backpedal.

“My bad. Next stop, sweet home Chicago!”

Jon’s face softens slightly, and he gives a nod before they pull away.

Entering the vessel, he immediately notices Aeon Khronos behind what appears to be a fully-functioning bar, complete with beer taps. Wiping his hands with a small towel, Aeon gives his compatriot a nod, which garners a raised eyebrow from Freeman.

“What’s all this, then?” he asks, motioning to the bar and its inner workings. “You tryin’ to start a side hustle?”

Aeon chuckles at this, shaking his head.

“This is for you,” he replies, pulling out a tall glass to place upon the counter. “Got the scoop about your next Survivor challenge, and I hope you can--”

Aeon is interrupted by the buzzing of Kenny’s phone, which only further confuses the winningest member of the Masters of the Moscowverse.

“You get reception in here?” Kenny asks, and Aeon is just as surprised as he is as the Master of Time Itself simply shrugs in response. Kenny presses the button to answer the call, holding the device to his ear.

“Ye-llo? This is Kenny.”

A pause as he listens to the voice on the other side, something we’re not afforded in this situation.

“Oh!” Kenny replies, turning back to Aeon as he puts the phone a mute for a second. “It’s the PRIME newsmongers, they want a statement on ReVival 92.”

Kenny clears his throat before unmuting the phone to speak.

“Yes, happy to talk about ReVival down in sweet home Chicago. Lovely place, that. Big fan of Navy Pier in particular.”

Another pause, as we can rightly assume he is being asked about the Survivor challenge for a statement on News & Notes.

“Oh, sure, I can imagine plenty of fighting is gonna go down in Chicago. I’m actually a little surprised this challenge is closer to normal wrestling parameters than, say, the Aggro Crag and Medieval Ti--what’s that?”

A hush falls upon him as the person he’s talking to clarifies the stipulation for the challenge… and no, it’s not a bar brawl.

“It’s a bar CRAWL?”

A look of borderline disgust appears on his face, as he processes what this means for him going into the United Center. Finally, he asks the most important question he can regarding this news.

“...and they serve sodas at this function, right? I’ll take a rum and Dr. Pepper, hold the rum.”

By the time he finishes his bad joke, the person on the other end has hung up. Kenny pockets his phone, shaking his head as he turns back to Aeon. His eyes scan the bar, finally understanding exactly what his quasi-mentor is attempting to offer.

“Good lord. Getting me climbing crags is one thing, jousting and dealing with owls another, but DRINKING!?”

Before he can get a response from Aeon, the vessel stops with a sudden lurch. Both men fall to the floor from the impact, the glass dropping from the counter and shattering. Kenny narrowly avoids taking a shard of glass to the face as he helps himself back up, followed closely by Khronos. The pair walk to the door, opening it up to see where they’ve landed… only to discover they’ve landed sideways, as a look outside the vessels shows the clock tipped over on the floor of what looks like a bar all its own. Almost a tavern of sorts, with the lights rather dim as Kenny and Aeon manage to work their way out of the clock and stand up on the floor. Kenny looks around, getting a sense of his surroundings as Aeon puts the clock upright.

“What in the world,” Kenny mutters, grabbing Aeon’s attention as he points to a sign on the wall that reads “BEERS” in all caps. Further confusing the pair is some music playing on a nearby speaker:

“Where everybody knows your name, and they’re always playing games…”

“Ah,” replies Khronos with a light chuckle. “We’ve landed on Earth-82, inside the premier tavern of this world. A perfect opportunity for you to get ready for the bar crawl.”

“I’m not drinking!” Kenny exclaims, shaking his head. “I don’t care if they disqualify me out of Survivor, my lips are not touching an ounce of--”

“I’ll buy you a burger after.”

Kenny thinks about this for precisely five seconds.

“Alright, then,” he says with a nod and a light sigh. “Just go easy on me.”

“Atta boy,” replies Aeon. He pats Kenny’s back as the pair enter into the main bar. A friendly barkeep looking an awful lot like a young Ted Danson nods to the pair with a smirk.

“What can I do for ya fellas?”

“I’ll have the strongest thing you’ve got, sir,” replies Kenny, his voice nearly shaking on account of how nervous he is. This just gets another chuckle from the bartender.

“No you won’t,” he remarks with another smirk, reaching for one of the taps to pour a clear liquid into a glass. “You can have a Sprite for now, kid.”

He places said glass in front, the bubbly drink enticing Kenny as the bartender looks over at Aeon.

“This kid’s got an ID, right? I can’t serve him anything harder than soda without ID.”

“I’m a grown man,” replies Kenny, setting his beverage down before reaching into his pants pocket. He pulls out his wallet, retrieving his identification to hand to the keep. “At the very least, lemme get a Shirley Temple or something next round.”

The bartender raises an eyebrow at this, his smirk widening to a grin.

“You’re… you’re joking, right? You know what’s in a Shirley Temple?”

“I do,” Kenny replies with a nod. “I’m ready to take that next step.”

The keep looks back at Aeon, motioning to his young and sober friend.

“Where’d you find this guy?”

“It’s…” Aeon’s voice trails off as he thinks about how much of the whole thing he wants to tell a relative stranger. He quickly decides against it, shaking his head. “It’s a long story.”

“Alright, then,” answers the bartender, as he assembles what he needs for Kenny’s request. A moment later, Kenny raises his glass to the keep and to Aeon.

“Cheers!”

Two Hours Later…

Kenny staggers out of the bar with a wry smile on his face, looking over at Aeon who is helping hold the young man up as they approach the grandfather clock.

“I appreciate you, man. I can’t believe I drank all those--”

“You literally only drank Shirley Temples and root beer,” replies Aeon with a stern look. “I told you, neither of those even have alcohol in them”

“Oh,” says Kenny, very quickly trying to straighten his posture. “Maybe all that surger is what did the damage.”

He lets out a belch before correcting himself.

“Sorry, sugar.”

“You don’t get to call me sugar unless you buy ME a drink,” replies Aeon with a chuckle. Kenny laughs at this as well, stopping only to hiccup before stumbling toward the clock.

“Right, then,” he says, leaning on the outer shell of Aeon’s vessel. “Time to ship off to Chicago then, right?”

Aeon nods in agreement before the pair enter through the door of the clock. Once again we watch the vessel flash out of sight… just as the bartender rushes out the door. He looks around in something of a panic, holding a receipt in his hand.

“Hey!” he exclaims to silence, letting out a sigh when he realizes the pair have already departed. “Great, I’ve got an unpaid tab. I’m never going to financially recover from this.”

08.03.26 Chicago, Illinois

The passage of time remains twisted and complex when traveling with Aeon Khronos, as he and Kenny land just outside Navy Pier. Doing their best to blend in with the tourists and passersby, the pair walk in flow with the foot traffic. For his part, Kenny has managed to “sober up” enough to walk without assistance, the fresh air aiding in his recovery as he smiles at the sight of his favorite landmark. Kenny walks over to the nearest railing, looking out to enjoy a lakeside view when he hears a voice call to him from the distance.

“Kenny!”

He recognizes the voice instantly, turning to see Randall approaching. The smile on Kenny’s face soon drops as he sees Malakai standing alongside his friend, the pair catching up as Aeon slinks away to avoid the confrontation that awaits.

“Kenny,” Randall says, not missing a beat as he motions to the big man standing beside him. “This is Jon Malakai. Jon, Kenny. Let’s uh… let’s talk turkey, huh?”

“What is there to talk about?” asks Kenny with a mix of confusion and apprehension in his voice. “This man tried to murk me a few weeks ago. You were there!”

“It was a misunderstanding,” replies Jon. “I was angry about being pulled away from home, and I took bad advice on how to resolve that problem. I’m told you have a way to traverse the cosmos… and I’m ready to go back where I came from.”

“It really shouldn’t be that hard,” Randall chimes in, motioning to a now clearly-hiding Khronos. “In fact, the man that can help us is--”

“Entertainer, I got this,” interrupts Kenny, who scowls at the big man. “I am nobody’s Uber ride… but I will take an apology for what you did, and we can go from there.”

Jon goes quiet for a moment, eventually nodding in response.

“I’m sorry, Kenny.”

This garners a smile from Freeman.

“Good. I accept your apology. NOW we can talk turkey.”