Risk

“What do you mean, I’ve never told you about the first time I met Miss Troy??” 9:00pm PST. … We don’t often get a peek inside the Keyes Estate - it’s usually “VVIP Suite” This or “Inner Corridors Of An Airship” That. It’s just part of the lifestyle…Keyes is usually running full-bore through rosters, always traveling, always finding ways to keep things as “home away from home” as any wrestler can.

It’s just that, when it comes to “The Kraken” Henry Keyes, that “home” is…well.

There are plenty of large homes in the Bay Area that have in-home staff. There’s only one whose staff are all Plague Doctors.

There are plenty of wide open spaces where exotic animals might have free reign over the place. There’s only one with a dedicated Tiger’s Den (and not “den” like an animal den. There’s a lot of literature lining the walls. A fireplace. XXXL accent chairs with tear-resistant upholstery. A meat chute.

When Henry Keyes stays in the Estate, he tends to stay there for a loooong while - resting, recovering, planning his next move to shatter the foundations of what we all believe about the professional wrestling landscape. The first steps towards building the Immortals PRIMExDEFIANCE event were taken here; the Short Stack Battlepalooza Sponsored By IHOP was conceived here; Henry Keyes versus Justin Sane was booked here - big swinging moments always teetering on the edge of madness, which may be the subtitle of the story of his life.

Vae Victis’s Kraken looks comfortable as hell in a plush blue robe, black silk jammies, and pink bunny slippers. His undercut is perfectly parted, his beard screams “zaddy”, he’s clearly gotten a head start on his tan for the summer, and his shoulders are as broad as the week is long.

Yes, Henry finds himself here at the Estate once more, a couple months after a year-long run as DEFIANCE Wrestling’s top champion (and the most important FIST since Lindsay Troy herself), seated comfortably in one of those gigantic accent chairs in the Tiger’s Den. And he’s not alone.

Henry Keyes: But I mean, you know the story. Right?

He looks to his right. Seated in another chair, regal, beautiful, majestic, and with her head resting upon an armrest, sits Helen, Henry’s white tiger, who stares blankly at her friend.

Henry Keyes: That’s right, I forget you weren’t even born yet, it’s already been 11 years since then. Wow, 11 years…feels like the wrong number, somehow. Both too long and too short.

Naturally, there’s a tidy and bespoke brass and wooden bar set between the two chairs, which all face a fireplace that is unlit because it’s June in California; instead, two steampunky sconces above either side of the mantle give the room a faint golden glow.

Atop the bar set sits an absinthe glass, situated below a slotted spoon holding a sugar cube and an overly complicated device that’s set up to drip ice water over the cube and into the waiting glass below. It may be the fanciest thing Henry owns, which is saying something for a man who was once VERY committed to “living the gimmick” as a pirate of sorts. He twists a knob on the device to shut off the drip, and he takes the glass. Helen, for her part, has a large water bowl nearby.

Henry Keyes: People talk all the time in the wrestling business about ‘taking risks’. I thought I knew what that meant back in those days, and I tried everything I could think of at the time…which, honestly, was mostly about the look. Lots of red - BRIGHT red hair, BRIGHT red mustache, these horribly uncomfortable red work pants, suspenders…come to think of it, if I was really smart, I would’ve thought of the Red Army thing first.

He looks over to Helen for any sign of a chuckle. Helen is only partially aware of the blight on the professional wrestling world that Ivan Stanislav represents, and is also a tiger, so she does not. Henry takes a sip - the laughs usually start when the Green Fairy tags along.

Henry Keyes: I didn’t really know what I was doing - I just wanted to be noticed, I think. I wanted to be memorable. At the time, DEFIANCE Wrestling was sort of there to make me or break me; if I didn’t make it there, I don’t know. Maybe I would’ve been a gambler. Maybe I would’ve stayed a crook.

Helen lets out a little “mrow?”

Henry Keyes: Yeah, you didn’t think the whole Airship Pirate thing came out of nowhere, did you? I’ve stolen things. Plenty of things. But ‘piracy’ has an air of whimsy about it in a way that ‘burglar’ doesn’t.

Helen lets out a little “hmph.”

Henry Keyes: Point being…I thought I knew what a risk was, and then I wrestled Lindsay Troy one-on-one. It was in a tournament for some big opportunity or another, I forget exactly what for because I knew going in that I didn’t stand much of a chance - I was just excited for the opportunity. I knew that no matter what, I was going to get a chance to wrestle BIG names. Eugene Dewey was in my tournament block, Bronson Box was in my block-

Helen sneezes loudly and wrinkles her face

Henry Keyes: I agree, but back then, that was a BIG big deal. And who else was in my block, do you think?

Helen purrs.

Henry Keyes: You guessed it - Miss Troy, already at the peak of her powers, already one of the top names in the world. We had this chemistry in the ring that even now, I don’t think I could explain to you - I had no business being a part of bangers at that stage in my career, but somehow I found myself there. I found myself hanging with her - barely, and with my fingernails clinging to the brink at every moment - but hanging. My left arm was busted, had been for months, couldn’t risk taking time off or else I might never get a shot like that again…and I caught her with the Bell Clap. Somehow. I don’t know how.

Helen lets out a medium “mrrr?”

Henry Keyes: I thought, now I know what a risk is, and guess what?

Helen stares blankly as Henry finishes his glass, pours in more green liquid, places it beneath the dripping device, sets up a fresh sugar cube, and turns a knob.

Henry Keyes: Risking injury is no risk. That’s just being a damned wrestler. No, the risk came after - and the one who took it was Miss Troy.

The overly fancy ritual being completed once again, Henry takes the glass and sips about a quarter of it in one go.

Henry Keyes: Because Miss Troy could have told me to fuck myself and die in a hole if she wanted to. She had every right - this rookie just beat her in front of the entire world and was now standing face to face with her, backstage, overly intense, overly familiar…but she didn’t. She shook my hand. She congratulated me. She joked with me about how close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades. And, apparently, this is when I won Miss Troy over as a friend…

Helen shifts in her seat and gazes longingly at Henry. She’s always liked Lindsay because Lindsay knew how to spoil her absolutely rotten. And now, she gets to finally learn about how her two favorite humans, the Besties in the World, the Co-Consuls of Vae Victis, and her Mean Girls movie night snuggle buddies became so close.

Henry Keyes: ...I asked her what a hand grenade was.

~~~~~~~~~~   11:20pm PST. … “But listen - piracy wasn’t ALLLLLL bad. I got to meet so many future associates - like Kyle here!”

Henry and Helen are still in the Tiger’s Den, but now, THEY’RE not alone.

A few of the Estate staff are here now, a Plague Doctor for every job and a job for every Plague Doctor. Restocking Plague Doctor has swapped out the old water container of his overly elaborate dripping device with a fresh one. Chef Plague Doctor has a large container of chicken, brown rice, and broccoli for Henry to go along with a fat stack of steaks for Helen. DJ Plague Doctor is looking through the record collection that lines a corner of the back wall of the Den, searching for something to place on the nearby antique Victrola.

Henry’s on his feet now, stretching. His eyes are a little wider, and his undercut is just slightly messier as a result of him running his hands through his hair every few minutes. It’s unclear how much absinthe he’s consumed to this point, but it does seem like he’s good and happy.

Henry has wrapped his arm around the shoulders of a particularly short Plague Doctor - one for whom there is a lot of history that we can’t really get into right now that has sometimes been called Tiny Plague Doctor, which is really a misnomer because 5’8” is perfectly normal - whose job is unclear at this time.

Tiny Plague Doctor: You know that it’s weird you’re making me wear the costume again, right? Like, this is weird.”

Henry Keyes: Kyle and I, we’ve toured the COUNTRY together! We’ve put on BARN BURNERS together!

Tiny Plague Doctor: Please stop calling me Kyle -

Henry Keyes: Kyle’s the BEST, and he knows that a BET IS A BET! And JUAN over there! Best meat man on the West Coast, am I right??

Chef Plague Doctor nods, perhaps in hopes that he won’t meet the same gregarious side-squeezing fate as his friend-slash-colleague. Helen, for her part, is not paying attention to Henry much at all, for there are steaks in front of her, and she knows she’s going to need to load up for the long night of storytelling still to come.

Henry Keyes: And yes, fine, fair, stealing is BAD. But you work hard, you stay afloat, you make ends meet, you travel, you make friends, you sign up to fight people professionally, you lose your mind a few times, you become best friends with one of the most powerful figures in the wrestling world, and look what can happen for you! Look at all THIS!

He releases his grip on Tiny Plague Doctor (who thankfully scuffles off) and spreads his arms wide, reaching up to the high ceilings, soaking in some honestly pretty bizarre but certainly unique decorative choices. Nothing seems to match together - it’s almost like a small museum wing where no one told the curator how to organize the items in a coherent way…porcelain vases next to ornate polearms next to a jewel shaped like a scarab next to a dusty box filled with dusty pages of books too old to re-bind for risk of damaging the paper itself.

Restocking Plague Doctor has restocked, taking the extra step of preparing a fresh glass and holding it out for Henry. Keyes grabs the glass from his hand with such ferocity that it nearly spins Restocking Plague Doctor in a full pirouette. Miraculously, not a drop spills out. He downs half the glass in a single swig.

Henry Keyes: And of course it’s ALL state of the art. People laugh at the airship thing, but you tell me this, Helen - youuuuuuu tell me this, Helen, you beautiful son of a bitch - people change. Right? People change, WRESTLERS change. Wrestlers think gimmicks get stale and it’s time for a freshie, like that poor little video game boy whose dreams I wrecked over and over who now calls himself Adult Conor Fuse. LAME, right?? LAME. Nobody believes him. And youuuuuu tell me this, Helen, you Bengal queen, you magnificent stallion - why does no one believe him? He’s acting. He’s acting, Helen, as if he still doesn't go home every night and boot up the ol’ Sega machine and fry out his brain. You KNOW he still does. You KNOW it.”

He downs the rest of his glass and slams the glass back on the small bar - a little hard, actually. Hard enough that Restocking Plague Doctor, who had just left, peeks his head back through the door to see if he needed to summon Sweeper Plague Doctor to take care of some broken glass. Thankfully, he doesn’t. Just as thankfully, DJ Plague Doctor has finally made his selection - Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings. Keyes can’t help but sway his hips and bob his head, blissed out and unable to resist an absolute bop as he thinks his glass refills.

It takes him until the second verse of “How Long Do I Have To Wait For You?” to realize he forgot to twist the knob.

Henry Keyes: Oh whoops…

He twists the knob too hard, releasing the water too fast. Proper technique is a slow and steady drip, dissolving a full sugar cube into the watered-down absinthe, but this is a full on fat sploosh. Barely any of the sugar has dissolved.

Henry Keyes: Oh whoops…

He’s still swaying to the beat as he turns the knob - the wrong way at first, pouring MORE water, before quickly righty-tightying and shutting off the flow. He grabs the glass and takes a small sip, absolutely wincing for a second, before shaking it off.

Helen has finished her steaks, which were fantastic as usual. Marbled, juuuuuust kissed by a searing flame for a moment. She paws at the back of her heavy-canvas-lined armchair, stretching and arching her spine as she gets a few long scratches in. With a big yawn, she hops up into the seat and curls into an enormous donut.

Henry Keyes: I didn’t change because I wanted to sell more shirts - I changed because I CHANGED, right? And you were there! You remember. This wasn’t just some injury stint, I nearly died in the ring!

Helen lets out a “pfffft.”

Henry Keyes: No, YOU’RE being dramatic.

He takes another sip…yeah, ouch, that’s way too bitter. He tosses what’s left of the sugar cube into his glass and gives it a little swirl with his finger in a move that can only be described as “peak Cool Mom.”

Henry Keyes: Okay FINE, yes, I’m alive, great, it’s doing me gangbusters, shut up. Point is, I wasn’t just attacked - I was butchered. My eye still doesn’t have full peripheral, which isn’t great. The doc says my left arm’s the most mangled mess he’s ever seen, and he does Jimmy John surgeries for baseballers!

Helen gives a confused look that Henry can’t take in because he’s too busy sipping and singing along to the music DJ Plague Doctor is tastefully curating. As he flips the record, Henry continues.

Henry Keyes: Miss Troy got me through some really, really, really, really dark times back then. She stuck her neck out for me, actually, in ways that I never really talk about, because it’s hard for me to revisit it, but you know how to open me up, Helen, like a damn zipper. You’ve got me spilling myself out onto the floor. And I love that you can still do that to me, yes I do, come here -

He saunters over to the cozy tiger and gives the back of her head and ears some sharp scritches as they nuzzle foreheads.

Henry Keyes: During all that, Vae Victis was just a whisper on the breeze, a leap I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to take. But then as I lay there bedridden, depressed out of my mind, ready for Dr. Plague Doctor to come in and tell me my career is over, Miss Troy found me, and she spoke to me in the language you only get to speak with your Bestie...we knew we had to turn that whisper into a fucking roar. And because we did…

Henry sighs and looks at all the grandeur around him.

Henry Keyes: …now we can afford to acquire just about any damn thing we might want to have. Not because we have to steal it so we can sell it on the cheap and skate by another week, but because the rules change when you rule this hard.

Henry downs the glass, and his face twists as if someone had swapped his drink with earwax. He gets back to swaying and dancing, which has gotten less and less steady. His robe is no longer neatly tied around his waist, and instead hangs loosely over his shoulder and elbows. He shimmies over to Helen’s chair and starts nuzzling with her again, though this time it’s as if his head weighs an additional 30 pounds. Helen has to actually exert some effort to keep Henry’s head steady and his body upright. She knows what’s coming - she’s seen it before. She knows that when Henry gets itchy about something, he can be like this - silly, sloppy, reminiscing of the past.

He’s itchy because he’s planning something risky.

The last time he was this itchy, it was right before he decided the only way to finally cement his place in eternity was to challenge Cancer Jiles for IMMORTALS, no matter the risks involved with such a high swing. It could’ve ended his reign as FIST, it could’ve forever cemented Henry Keyes as a tier below the best of the best if it had backfired.

He’s itchy because every time he plans something risky, he knows that this could be it. That this could be the end.

The risks still terrify Henry, Helen knows, and this ritual in the Den has become his way of powering through that fear and finding the courage and self-confidence to will an outcome into existence. It hasn’t always worked in the ways he would hope in the moment, but they’ve all led him here today.

Henry fully slumps into Helen on the chair, cozying himself up to be her little spoon. She gives his head a few sharp licks which sticks his hair out in all sorts of directions. He paws at his robe pocket and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his messages until he finds the right thread.

Miss Troy.

He checks her most recent text.

“Henry bb, I think it’s time for your next big splash. It’s time to mix things up in the Five Star division, and you need to fight someone because I know you. The champ needs an opponent. Interested?”

Henry stares at it a bit longer before he begins to type. “Book it.” After a beat, Miss Troy loved “Book it.” He powers off his screen and can’t help but close his eyes. It’s just so cozy in the Tiger Den right now.

Helen gives a long purr and wraps a paw around Henry’s chest.

…

Hangover Cure Plague Doctor is already on it.