Commotion

December 11, 2025. Chaifetz Arena; St. Louis, MO.

The sheet taped to the door read:

WRESTLERS’ ENTRANCE

But it didn’t tell the whole story.

A hand-written sign like this hung on arena doors for shows all over the world, all across time.

Nowhere did they carry as much weight as they did at the Chaifetz Arena in St. Louis.

Over thirty-six years, more than a thousand aspiring wrestlers walked through a door like this. No matter what happened afterwards, all their lives were irrevocably changed.

Enter and, for better or worse, the truth would be revealed.

That held for everyone who passed this threshold. From Coral Avalon to Scurvy Jones. [REDACTED] to Sebastian Gold. Jake to Nate to Benjamin and Dennis to Jennifer.

To now.

Nate Colton remembered his first time, back in 2018. How the confidence he’d built over years of training and eleven months of professional competition disappeared the moment he touched that door. The way his hands shook as he reached for the handle, and how he looked to his father for guidance before finally walking through.

Seven years later, he marked the end of his fourth year with the largest promotion in the world. Celebrated not with a shiny championship or a huge trophy, but an abduction sling that secured his right arm in place.

Hayes Hanlon took so much from Nate Colton at Colossus. His immediate future, for starters…and a dark cloud of doubt hung over his long-term career.

How long until he could return to? Would he even be the same?

The questions laid heavy on Nate’s mind and heart. But the answers would have to wait.

This weekend wasn’t about him.

I wonder if Hayes ever felt that way in his life

He trailed the squad of satin jackets toward the hand-written sign on the door. A half-step ahead of him was his father, Jake. The tournament had been part of his life longer than his children; he was the second person to claim the trophy and the first to forever intertwine the names of Colton and Belmont. The old man held a bag filled with various supplies, a burden he refused to share.

“Feel like I should be carrying something,” Nate said.

“No, you fuckin’ shouldn’t. You should be letting that shoulder heal. Lucky I let you come at all.”

“You didn’t let me do shit, Dad,” Nate whispered back. “Hayes coulda killed me and I’d still be here.”

“That ain’t funny,” Jake said, even through a small smile.

Benny and Denny–the Lads–were a few steps ahead, their pace slowed by Denny’s easygoing saunter and Benny’s repeated sidetracks and detours. They each carried boxes full of t-shirts, representing every Colton as well as the Academy itself. Nate took a moment to appreciate Benny’s path; he’d wander off for a few seconds before gravitating back to their cousin.

The way they’ve always been

Way out in front, Blake Colton led the pack. He moved at a robotic pace, as if on autopilot. His gym bag was slung over his shoulder, in clear violation of Rule #15–

Rule 15: Top dog picks up the tab. Low man carries the bags.

–and though he was far less experienced than anyone else in their group…tonight, he was the Top Dog.

Still, Blake insisted.

“Nate never made me carry his bags,” he’d said. “After the once.”

You’re gonna be all right, kid

The procession arrived at the door, with the legend bearing its ominous message. Blake stared at it like it was written in some alien language.

He’d seen them before, of course. He’d hung that sign before, for the family’s own promotion But this time they were written for him. And–as far as his family was concerned–him alone.

Blake reached for the door…and pulled back.

At the end of the line, Jake chuckled. “Heh. You did that, too.”

“Yeah. First time’s the hardest, right?”

The old man let the words hang in the air for a moment.

“No, it ain’t.”

Nate nodded solemnly; once again, his father had put truth to a casual lie. They’d all felt the pressure during their own tournament runs.

They all felt it again.

Only now it’s worse ‘cause we can’t do anything about it

Blake steeled himself enough to grab the handle, but still didn’t open it.

“Go on, buddy,” Benny said–oddly supportive, from someone who never missed a chance to talk shit. “It’s your turn.”

Indeed it was.

Blake’s turn to compete in the Belmont. To tread the path already walked by his father, brothers, cousin, and sister. To step into those shoes and find out how big his feet were.

The young boy, barely a man, took a deep breath and pressed his thumb down on the latch.

“Here we go.”

He pulled the door open and stepped through the threshold.

And the world changed.

They’d barely made it ten steps before getting swallowed up by the mass of humanity in the halls. Organizers. Arena staff. Runners. Stage hands. Other wrestlers and their entourages. A crowd far bigger than Nate remembered from his previous trips through that door.

If it keeps growing like this, there won’t be enough people left to actually watch the show

He gingerly made his way through the masses, mostly by following Dennis and hoping for the best. Last thing we need is to get lost in the–

“COLTONS IN THE HOOOUUUUUUUUSE!”

God fucking dammit, Benny

“MAKE WAY FOR SAUCY CHICKEN AND BIG MEATLOAF! And my little brother, I guess.”

Saucy…what?

The crowd thinned out a little, with people ready to keep their distance from the maniac who called himself “Saucy Chicken.” Nate saw that the Lads had caught up to Blake and ushered him forward through the crowd. Blake’s entire head turned bright red from embarrassment, but at least he was making progress.

OK, that’s…I don’t want to say ‘smart’ but it worked

“Feast your eyes on the Evansville Sex Machine, Blake Colton! He’s here to steal your girlfriends AND Pokemon cards!”

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP BENNY!”

“Sorry! He’s here to trade fairly for your–”

“That’s enough,” Jake said, finally using his Dad Powers to defuse things just as he and Nate caught up.

“Hey, everyone was pushing Blake around,” Benny said defensively. “I had to do something.”

“Next time, do something else,” Jake said, prodding Blake down the hall toward the locker rooms.

# # #

Later.

The show was underway, and the locker room was full. Full of chatter, strategizing, and interesting odors.

But empty of Coltons.

Fame is nice and all, but it often gets in the way when you’re trying to work. Blake had barely stepped in the locker room before getting mobbed by other entrants, either trying to size him up or pick his brains. One guy nearly missed his own entrance because of it.

So the Coltons were moved into their own space for the night, if only to minimize disruptions.

If you knocked on the door, you’d find them watching the show on a tablet with the sound off.

That’s if you could get in. They wouldn’t have heard you; they also wore noise-cancelling headphones.

To the uninitiated, this might seem weird. But if you knew that one of the competing wrestlers walked out to “Centerfield”…it would still seem weird.

Explaining the Creedence Curse wouldn’t help either, since it’s just John Fogerty on that song…but Jake wasn’t taking any chances.

They stared in silence, until the story ended the way so many did–with Percy Avalon dropping the baseball man on his head and pinning him.

“Thank God,” Jake said as he peeled off his headphones. “Won’t have to worry about that again.”

‘Course, now we’ve got the bigger problem of having to deal with an Avalon again, Nate thought. At least he’s on the other side of the bracket.

Jake stood up, stretching out his leg in the process. “Now that’s over with, we can get back to the plan. The key to this tournament is pacing yourself. It doesn’t do a damn bit of good to–”

His speech was interrupted by a pounding on the door, with a side of shouting.

“Hot bitch delivery service! Two piping hot bitches, fresh from the oven!”

“No thanks!” Benny shouted. “I’m already a piping hot bitch!”

“One day,” Jake muttered, burying his face in his hand. “All I want is one day where all my kids act like grown-ups.”

Meanwhile, Nate and Blake looked at the door in confusion. Who’d introduce themselves like that?

Blake figured it out a little faster, because he was already on his feet and running toward the door when it opened. His sister only briefly appeared before Blake spear-hugged her back into the hallway.

“JENNY! You’re back!”

“Haha! Ease up, squirt!”

Nate and the others left the room to surround the prodigal daughter, finally returned from her year in Japan. “Great to see you, Jen. You look…”

Fuckin’ different

“...good.”

If it weren’t for the jacket with her name on it, Nate might not have recognized his sister at all. The year in Japan clearly changed her–no surprise, since her easiest match in Bang! Pro Wrestling was a bigger challenge than most of her MVW fights combined.

There was a hardness to her, accented by a few new scars and a broken nose that never healed right. But that also came with a renewed energy she didn’t have earlier this year; teaming up with the Ironhearts had worked out.

“I still have the Clash left,” she explained. “But we’re on break, so I booked a flight here. Didn’t want to miss Widdle Blakey-Wakey’s big weekend!” She pinched her brother’s cheek, which finally got Blake to shove her away.

“Excuse me,” Benny interjected. “I was promised two piping hot bitches. I only see one bitch who’s barely lukewarm. Tepid at best.”

Jenny gave her usual response (hint: the finger), then pointed a thumb down the hallway.

There stood the other member of her party, using her sleeves to cover the deep crimson in her face.

I don’t believe it

While the rest of the family caught up with Jennifer, Nate walked toward the other woman–who, while absolutely piping hot, was absolutely not the other word.

“‘Hime?”

The shame from Jennifer’s brazen introduction died down, allowing Kohime Mori to uncover her face at last. “Hello.”

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, it’s great to–”

“Jenny and I came in together. I wanted to see Blake compete this weekend, and…and I wanted to see you.”

HELL YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH wait no play it cool let her say what she needs to say

“I am…so happy for you. For your match last week.”

Record scratch, what? You’re happy for that?

Nate looked down at his secured arm. “That…could have gone a lot better. Sure didn’t end how I wanted.”

“I know,” she continued. “But I know how you feel about Mr. Hanlon, and the way you threatened him after he bullied your brother…that was very scary.”

“I’m sorry, ‘Hime. I lost my temper again.”

“But at Colossus…you did not. You fought hard, but not mean. You were the Nate that I like to see.”

She likes to see me HELL YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH but no I get it

“Thanks. I prefer that Nate too.”

“I liked the part where Hayes almost shit his pants!” Jennifer shouted, having finally caught up with the others. “OMG, the look on his face when–how did you even come up with that stunt?”

“I can’t take credit for that,” Nate said, looking over his shoulder at his sister. “That was all Frank’s idea.”

“Dad’s sketch friend?” she said, making a face that showed just what she thought of Frank Mazurskiewicz.

Jake snarled a bit. “He’s helped a ton over the years; show a bit of respect,” he said, making no denial of Frank’s sketch levels.

“Anyway,” Nate said, “I just hope I finally knocked a little sense into him. PRIME’s got enough dumb as–jerks as it is.”

“Think you did?” Dennis asked.

“No. But a man can dream.”

Not that I’d waste my dreams on him

Or my time

I’m done with that, and him

“All right, you clowns. Let’s get back to work,” Jake said, striding back into the room and expecting the others to follow. They did, at their own pace. Just before Nate could enter, Dennis pulled him aside.

“Your old man seems a little more tense than usual,” he said.

“We’ve got a lot riding on this one,” Nate replied. “We won’t have another chance to put our name on the trophy…not unless one of us starts cranking out some kids.”

“Not it.”

Nate snickered as he walked through the door. It was a good tension breaker, just like the sudden appearance of his sister and ex-but-maybe-again-girlfriend.

But the tension came back, and with a vengeance.

# # #

The main event.

“Colton!”

Six heads turned toward the speaker–an overworked and underappreciated assistant who’d been on his feet all day and didn’t need this family’s nonsense on top of it. “Blake Colton.”

The youngest of the group stood up and approached.

“You’re up next,” the assistant said, giving the same speech he’d given thirty-one times already today. “Head into position, don’t touch the trophy, and wait for my signal before you go through the curtains. Got it?”

“Yessir.”

“The rest of you, stay out here. There’s not enough room for the whole damn Brady Bunch in there.” The assistant went back into Argyle position; Blake started to follow, but was stopped by his father.

“Circle up,” Jake said as he pushed himself to his feet–a little slower and with more groaning than usual. The others followed suit, silently joining hands and bowing heads. Nate stood with Blake on his left, then felt a hand tenderly rest itself against his right arm. He knew without looking who it belonged to…but he looked anyway, just for a glimpse of Kohime’s sweet smile.

He smiled back at her, then they both bowed their heads–Nate out of reverence, Kohime out of imitation.

“Lord,” Jake began. “We thank You for the gifts You have given us. Please watch over everyone here tonight and keep them safe. Help Blake perform his best, and no matter what happens, help us accept it with grace and humility. In Jesus’ name we pray…”

A staggered round of “Amens” came from the rest of the group, and they released their grips.

“How you feelin’, bud?” Nate asked his little brother.

“I’m…I’m OK.”

You don’t look OK

“I wish Khalil was here.”

Jake Colton breathed in sharply, about to defend himself–loudly–like he had so many times since the lineup was announced. But Nate cut him off with a look.

You cannot lay that shit on him, Dad. Not now. NOT. NOW.

“I wish that too, buddy,” Nate said. “But…well, sometimes you just have to take life as it comes. All you can do is try to make the best of it.”

“Can you come with me? In there, I mean.”

Nate smiled. “Of course.”

He shared a quick nod with Jake before following the youngest Colton into Argyle position.

The room was full of equipment with all sorts of switches and lights that probably cost more than RBW made in a year. Operated by experienced techs, instead of a college dropout who took a theater class once.

But that wasn’t what caught Blake’s attention. No, that honor belonged to the Belmont Classic Trophy itself.

It was a sight both familiar and strange. Anyone who walked through the doors of the Colton Academy saw the replicas belonging to Nate and Jennifer; they held a position of honor in the facility. Students saw them every day, a constant reminder of what was possible.

But this wasn’t a copy, like the one Bryan Dawkins defaced earlier this year. This was the real thing. The names engraved in small type on its metal surface were also carved in stone, with letters as big as the sky.

“Wow,” Blake whispered. He slowly reached out to trace his finger along one of the names.

“Don’t touch it, I said.”

“It’s OK, little bro,” Nate said. “You can touch it when you win it.”

“It looks heavy,” Blake replied.

Oh buddy…you have NO idea

Nate only got to hold it once–that magical night seven years ago–but never forgot how it felt. It had a weight that went beyond mere mass.

This wasn’t just a curio; this was history…and the names it bore were the ones who wrote it.

Not just their stories, either. More than a thousand hopes, dreams, careers, triumphs and tragedies.

It was a wonder anyone could lift it at all.

Somehow, his father had managed. So had Nate and Jennifer.

Now, it was Blake’s turn. After years of waiting and the nightmare Ivan Stanislav put him through, he was ready to join a larger family. More than a thousand siblings, with thousands more to come after him. Forever a part of something greater, a unique thread in a blinding glorious tapestry.

“All right, bud,” Nate said. “Bring it in.”

He wrapped his left arm around Blake’s shoulder and pulled him in for one last bro hug. Blake pulled away and stood back, presenting himself for final approval.

“How do I look?”

As “Life in the Fast Lane” filled the air, Nate looked his brother up and down. The ring gear–purchased new for tonight–looked crisp. He wore the traditional Colton style–short trunks with a stripe up the side, and the usual accessories. The primary color wasn’t his first choice, but Benjamin shot that down immediately–”orange isn’t your color”--and looking good was the one area where his judgment could be trusted.

So they went with the second choice, black. Sleek, stylish and simple…and it just so happened to match Nate’s Denki Gai jacket.

Nodding in approval, he looked into his brother’s eyes.

There, he saw the past. The laughter and tears of infancy. The wild mood swings of adolescence. The pain and misery during his recovery…and the determination that grew out of it.

You look like my baby brother

He saw the present. A battle between excitement and panic. Fear of what was to come, but the resolve to face it anyway.

You look like a rookie

He saw the future. A new twist on the Colton style, just like all the others had brought. More calculated, more cerebral, still just as dominating. Titles, world tours…and before those, a very heavy trophy.

Four for the family.

You look like a champion

You look…

“Like a goddamn Colton.”

A broad grin crossed the young man’s face, and he pumped his fist a little. “Thanks, big bro.”

The assistant cut in with a countdown. “You’re on in five…four…”

In an instant, Blake set his face in determination, turned around, and stood on his mark.

Damn, kid locked in fast

“And…go!” the assistant shouted. Blake sprinted through the curtain, bursting out onto the stage and prompting one of the night’s biggest cheers.

Nate Colton watched until the curtain closed back in. He gave one last glance toward the trophy before leaving the Argyle position, where only his father remained.

“Rest of ‘em went down to their seats. We should go.”

Father and son walked together. With every step, Nate filled that tension build again…and he knew his father felt it too.

“It’s OK, Dad,” Nate said. “We’ve done everything we can.”

“I know.”

“But…man, this sucks.”

A bitter chuckle. “I know.”

“Does it at least get easier?”

“Not even a little.”

That’s the cost of giving a damn, I guess. Your heart gets torn out if it goes wrong, and you can’t do shit about it.

But if it goes right…

Then my place in this world changes. I ain’t done yet…but if I can’t be the top guy, I can still hold up the others. The boost they need to reach higher than I could, higher than anyone else dreams.

And guys like Hayes are always gonna wonder why I’m so happy. So blinded by his own shine that he can keep winning belts from now until kingdom come, and not understand why I’d never trade places with him.

He probably never will.

“He’s gonna make us proud, Dad. I know it.”

The old man nodded, an odd smile on his face. So many times, he’d looked at his children with pride…and he did so again, but not in the same way.

They walked on in silence; Nate’s tension was still there, but lessened by other notions. Dreams of the future.

Success, accolades, fame, fortune…and healing.

For his shoulder, and his relationship.

It would take time and hard work. Direction and persistence.

But soon enough, the Coltons would be back at full strength…and there would be no stopping them.

# # #

The results on RingDispatch read:

NIGHT ONE MAIN EVENT: “No Nonsense” Danny Random d. Blake Colton by pinfall at 9:44 after the Markov Chain (running PK)

And that..

Pretty much told the whole story.