Chapter 1. Zachary Kazadi - or as he went by publicly now - weaselperson, discovered that his costume was missing. He frowned but had never been prone to sudden bouts of anger. He’d avoided that trait having grown up with some who weren’t so mindful of their raging tendencies. Though in the ring, this self-discipline did happen to collapse here and then, especially in the past when he felt that his sanctuary was being violated. He tried to recall where he might’ve placed the skin suit, but he was confident that he’d hung it in his closet. He had a particular spot for it there, in the far back, with its own lamp. It could be mistaken for a place of grotesque worship, had it been there. But it wasn’t. He stepped out of the closet and patiently looked around the room. The windows were locked. The doors had been locked. Perhaps he should’ve invested in security cameras, after all. But it had always seemed a bit excessive. He was mostly a minimalist when it came to possessions so there wasn’t much to rob here, although, perhaps he’d underappreciated the value of the skin suit. He was certain he hadn’t misplaced it. And although he could find no signs of a breaking and entering, and nothing else absent in his abode, he believed that the only logical explanation for the absence of his costume was that it had been stolen. He considered who might be responsible. Katie Baxter. Ordinarily, she doesn’t seem the sort to be brave enough to steal from someone, and neither the sort to have the resources to do it so well. Although, she seemed rather passionate about the former weaselperson, the Jonathan I’d never meet. That could be enough motivation to make her go above and beyond her ordinary means. But, if I’m being honest, I don’t know too much about her. For all I know, this is something she’s capable of. The FWA wrestlers, from what I’ve come to understand, have outlandish hobbies these days, who’s to say the rest of the staff isn’t the same? Danny Toner should have been the forefront assumption, but Katie’s harassment had left me a little fearful of the interviewer. Danny; however, had a history of costume theft. It wasn’t a particularly unique history. Stealing costumes to mock or surprise a rival, these were traditions of wrestling. Not traditions I was interested in living up to, but this was right up a man like Danny’s alley. You could argue I had stolen weaselperson, but it wasn’t to mock or surprise anyone, and Jonathan was far from a rival to deserve that targeting. In any case, Danny had just been parading around in an Alyster Black costume, and it wasn’t too long he’d been spotted dressed as a Nephew, and attacked by a similarly costumed rival. Only one of these was directly relevant, though this masked assailant was something that remained in the back of my mind. For a rather simple reason: I did not need anyone to sully the victory I intended on obtaining. The relevant matter though is the parade in the Alyster Black costume. Danny wasn’t the sort of man who’d respect me. He was more likely to find ways to aggravate me and mock me, and the man was a hooligan to begin with, with little care for the law or propriety. Picturing him stealing my skin suit was rather easy. He had the means and the motive. Too easy a guess? Well, if it is him, what should I do? Find him amidst whatever latest drug bend he’s on? Wait till he makes whatever dramatic move he intends on making, likely on Meltdown. There was nothing to be done. Although, it would leave me in a terribly tough spot if, by Fallout, I hadn’t found a solution. I have other theories. Wanda may have decided to repossess her lost love if she decided she was ultimately dissatisfied with me. But I suspect if that were the case, she’d have done much worse. Alyster Black? That was wishful thinking. He’d ignored me, entirely. Sure, he had his history, like Danny Toner, of undertaking secret identities for some long con, but Alyster didn’t seem the sort to go down the same well twice. There were the Nephews, but he’d done his best in ensuring they’d stay out of his business, and he didn’t think they’d reneg on that agreement this soon. Shawn Summers? We exchanged comments, mine more pointed than his, of course, and this definitely isn’t below him. No, far from not being below him, he’d probably do something gratuitous to bring it down to his standard. But, Summers had other priorities. He could always be playing the long game, but I was willing to rule him out for the moment. Danny Toner was the obvious suspect. There was nothing to do but to wait and see what would happen. Chapter 2. Zachary Kazadi got off his motorcycle as he arrived at the skyscraper’s entrance. A valet appeared, making Zachary briefly tense. He wasn’t used to valet parking but he handed the keys to his ride once he realized the employee’s purpose. He’d dressed in a floral dress shirt, and chino shorts. Not all that fancy for the sort of business he was about to undertake, but he didn’t expect the folks he’d be negotiating with to care much for professional dressing attires. This was a far cry from the sort of agencies he’d dealt with some years ago when he first arrived on the FWA stage, though he still maintained the same reservations and prejudices that had emerged from those miserable past dealings. These people proclaimed themselves to be more in step with modern trends. He hadn’t decided yet if this was something that was worth praising, or an ensurance that he’d forever stay out of the brand business. He entered the building and was greeted by the man who’d called him over the phone. “Oh, you didn’t come in the costume? I thought you were embracing it now. All weaselperson, all the time.” “In the wrestling ring, I am, but I’d rather not drive around L.A. dressed in that much fur.” The truth was, I actually had started going around as weaselperson. It felt unbecoming of my distaste for attention (well, outside the attention from my peers), but I somehow felt a bit less self-conscious beneath it, even as I was sweating my balls off. Alas, stolen costume, and with the nature of this meeting, it was better not to confess it was missing. “Look, I’ll be honest with you man, I’m a huge fan, I want to get your name under our brand, but it’s not gonna be a slam dunk.” “A slam dunk?” Corny fucker. “You’re saying that not everyone would like me to sign on.” “They need a little reassurance.” “I’m not here to do an interview or impress anyone.” “Just hear them out. You were interested in the money on offer, right? What’s it gonna hurt to just hear them out?” “I could be getting ready for my next match instead of wasting my time here. They’re getting paid right now, I’m not.” “Zachary. Weaselperson... I think that you being part of our brand could be my big break, and it could be a chance to establish your legacy.” “You don’t know what I want my legacy to be.” “Whoa. I’m a wrestling fan, don’t underestimate me. And I know you’re obsessed with wrestling. weaselperson could be the image of wrestling. Trust me. We can do that.” Yet, why am I so skeptical? “Fine, let’s go on. LA traffic is too shit for me to have made it this far just to leave now.” “Love the enthusiasm, dude. I really do think wearing the costume would’ve been a good idea, though.” You and I, both. They entered the room where a woman in a suit with a tablet in front of her, sat side by side with a few more lackadaisical gentleman who beamed when the recruiter enter the room. “You’re weaselperson?” the woman asked. “Bark?” he said. Dumb fucking idiot. You look like a piece of shit saying that without the costume. Her eyes narrowed, confirming his suspicions. “Nice to meet you, why don’t you take a seat?” Kazadi sat opposite of the lengthy boardroom table. The man who’d invited him offered to cure his isolation by sitting at his side, though it appeared he was hardly paying attention to either him or the suited woman, instead subtly conversing with the other two insignificants. “Our brand is interested in taking you on. My colleagues will take care of talking to you about the marketing possibilities we have for you, but before we get to that point, there are some issues we need to consider first.” “I’m sure you’ll tell me what those issues are.” She smiled. “You’re unreliable, Mr. Kazadi.” Yeah, no shit. “Taking you on now would be a risk, but we suspect we aren’t the only ones who will show interest in what you have to offer. The question is whether you’ll last long enough to receive these offers.” She paused, gauging Kazadi’s expression, but he remained stoic. “We’re willing to not only jump ahead of the pack, but to also offer you something we feel is more generous than anything you’d be likely to get elsewhere.” He said nothing, though what he wanted to say is Please stop wasting my fucking time, and tell me what’s the catch. He knew she would get to that eventually, and decided not to delay it by replying. “In exchange, we believe that you should be willing to make a few concessions. Firstly, we would like to be able to physically and digitally replicate the weaselperson costume, as I understand it, it’s currently a one-of-a-kind copy?” “Is that all?” “All?” “The concessions.” “No. I did say firstly, didn’t I? I’ll go on. We would also like to have ownership rights to the weaselperson title should there be a situation where you are unable or... unworthy of carrying on the title. For example, a severe injury, a lost mask - I understand this is a severe risk in professional wrestling, and that you yourself, are prone to waging your possessions -, a sudden disappearance, a scandal, or termination whether employer or employee initiated. That would be all.” “I think I’ve seen enough people getting screwed with deals like that to know I’d be an idiot to say yes.” He begins to stand up, but the recruited throws his arms up. “Wait, wait, wait. Don’t close the door on this yet. Look, we love you Zachary. We think weaselperson could be huge. Action figures, toys, a movie series, a television show, comic books, cartoons, the costume itself. You can make sure that your kids, your kids’ kids, your kids’ kids’ kids never have to work a day in their life.” I didn’t intend on having kids. “I, for one, don’t think you’ll end up bailing. I think you’re here for real this time, and you’re going to accomplish everything you’re promising to accomplish, which is why for me, this concession, it’s irrelevant. It’ll never come into play.” Zachary stood up. “Are you rejecting the offer?” the woman asked. Kazadi gazed at the pleading eyes of the man next to him, then at the cold gaze of the suited woman. “I’ll think it over,” he said, and left the room. Chapter 3. The man chased him out of the room, though Kazadi did not look his way. “I know the deal sounds sketchy-” “I’d genuinely be an idiot to accept it. That’s the sort of deal that blows up in your face, no matter how good my intentions are to be the reliable man you’d like me to be.” “But the money...” “I’m not a sellout.” “Exactly! What even matters if the worst did come to pass. We’re not stealing your ability to wrestle! That’s what you care most about at the end of the day, isn’t it? I want you to be at the top of the world as weaselperson, but what’s it matter to you if it’s weaselperson or Zachary Kazadi that sits at the top, right? You’ll try to be there either way. Sign this deal, and you never have to worry about thinking about anything but wrestling ever again. Money, fame, it’ll make your job a lot easier.” Kazadi glanced at the man but said nothing. “I don’t want to put the pressure on you, but the reason why we’re trying to get ahead is that we’re narrowing down on who we want to be the face of our brand going forward. And right now, there’s one person who’s at the head of that race, but you represent an alternative a lot of us think could be better.” He stopped now. “So I’m competing for a spot here. Did you give the other guy an offer like you gave me.” “Well, we did do it, once.” The man gazed up at a statue of the Chessmaster, the face of the brand. “This is who I’m competing with?” “He used to be a bit like you, actually, he’s still kinda like you, but you know, he delivered. We gave him the same contract because we didn’t trust him. But he signed it, he got the money, and he not only lived up to what we needed out of him, he excelled. We’re thinking of renewing him with a new contract, but honestly, we’re sort of afraid that maybe he’s not got it anymore, the hunger I mean, to keep growing.” “You think you’ve gotten all you can out of him, and now you wanna get all you can out of me.” “Not just that! I told you, the thing we like about you is that you’re determined. We’re looking long term here and you have got long term in your mind because you’re passionate about this. You’re not the type to get satisfied, right? You’ll keep pushing yourself. That’s what we want. But, at the end of the day, he’s still got a better track record than you. If we’re looking on paper, and not what I see when I look into your eyes, but simply on paper, you gotta admit, you’re a liability.” Kazadi snorted. The man realized maybe that the last line wasn’t the right one. “You guys might be in a rush, but I’m not. I’ll think about it, and if it’s out of my hands, then it’s out of my hands. I’ve gotta go train. You’ve got my number if I’m out of the running, and I’ve got your number if I have the sort of epiphany you’re wishing I’d have. That work?” “I... I guess.” “Good.” Chapter 4. Zachary Kazadi returned home and was surprised to find Wanda inside. “How’d you get in?” “I have my ways. I did tell you that if you rejected weaselperson, I’d ruin you, didn’t I? Did you think was simply a bluff.” She’d made herself awfully comfortable. She brought her own tea set and was sipping from a cup. At least I don’t have to treat her. “I have a problem.” “Only one?” “Only one worth your attention. weaselperson is missing.” “You’re right in front of me.” “The suit, I mean.” “Oh, that. I simply had it treated.” “You know I do wash it, right?” “I respect that you are making a modicum of effort in maintaining the quality, but I don’t trust you to take every precaution the way I would.” He shrugs. So, be it. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” “I wanted to congratulate you on your victory.” “Is it worth congratulating me? An impressive victory, sure, but when it comes to what you want me to achieve as weaselperson, it’ll only be a footnote in the end.” “That’s correct. I didn’t come here simply to congratulate you, or to return your suit, I wanted to address the matter of your upcoming match.” “You didn’t need to consult me about Cyrus Truth, why Danny Toner.” “I’ve decided to show greater interest in the going-ons of the FWA, to better ensure you’re meeting a consistent standard.” “I guess I’m glad you didn’t do your research before I had my match with Truth.” “I’ll defer to you, since you’re the expert... who is more dangerous: Cyrus Truth or Danny Toner?” “Danny Toner.” “He doesn’t seem like he is, on the surface.” “A long time ago, when I used to face Danny Toner, I didn’t think much of him. I honestly thought he was nothing more than an emotional thug who’d lucked his way into a wrestling career. I thought he was probably a coward deep inside. I mean, my thoughts on his value as a person, that hasn’t changed. He’s a scummy human being. Selfish. Without value. But that works to his benefit, ultimately.” “And what about his talent. I understand he may not be the most versatile or skilled wrestler.” “Yeah, I used to think that, too. Then I realized it was a load of bullshit. People like Danny, instinctive types who rely more on intuition than encyclopedic knowledge of wrestling moves, they get dismissed easily, and it always comes back to bite people in the back. Danny’s a fighter. Whatever cover story people are trying to pull about him being not all that good, it’s bullshit. The fans eat into his palm, whichever he likes it. It pushes him when he’s in the ring. He’s gone toe to toe with almost every big name in this company for the past 8 years. His name’s been stained, but it doesn’t refute the fact that every time Danny’s been around, he’s been in the spotlight, and in his greatest disappointments, he finds himself flanked with fights for world title opportunities, and world tag title reigns. His crowning last year, it was inevitable. And, as far as anyone should be concerned, Chris Peacock isn’t the World Champion, it’s Danny Toner.” “Then it’s fortunate you’re facing Danny this week, isn’t it?” “Maybe.” Wanda is caught off guard by that answer. The hesitation, and the uncertainty. “Are you concerned you’ll lose?” Kazadi frowns. “It’s a possibility. He’s the uncrowned champion. I may have made Cyrus Truth tap out, but it’s been almost five years since Cyrus Truth was a World Champion. Danny Toner is... a killer. He’s said it himself, and he’s right. He’s positioned himself above the biggest gold there is. That’s something I’d tried to do once, and failed pathetically. I’m not certain I’ll win. I’ve always been a staunch believer in my style. Calculated, intelligent, cerebral. And I used to believe that guys like Danny didn’t really stand a chance against me. Neutralize his knee, bend and tweak it. I thought a guy like Danny would be easy to take down. But that was just a demonstration of my own inexperience. He’s not easy to take down. He’s the sort of man whom, if the mood is just right, if the crowd is cheering his downfall enough, or chanting his fucking name over and over again, he’ll ignore all the pain. He’ll dig past every bit of targetted offense and limb work you’ve done on him, and he’s liable to knock you out with a knee. And then the bell will ring, and he’ll drop. He won’t know where it came from. His body just moved automatically. And it sealed it for him. A guy like Danny, there’s no way to be sure.” “He can’t have been the first person you’ve faced like this.” “Ha. No. My uncle was like that too. I faced lots of people like that. But Danny isn’t your average guy. He excels at what he does. He can fuck off for a whole year, not have lifted a single dumbbell, not have watched a single match, not have ran a single rope, and he’d be wrestling like he never missed a beat. Guys like me, there might be a bit of rust. A bit of the hands remember where to position themselves in a tarantula. But Danny is riding on adrenaline, feels, and whatever garbage he stuck into himself, and somehow, that’s always enough.” “Stop it. I did not bring this topic up simply to hear you praise him and frontload excuses as to why you would lose. If you know how dangerous he is, then you’ll find a weakness. That’s your specialty, isn’t it? The benefit of your expertise.” “It’s... not as simple as that.” Wanda stood up. “You’ve ruined my appetite. I’m not sure what you need to do, to regain your confidence. Wear the suit of the one who made Cyrus Truth tap out, if that’s what it takes, but figure it out. You have an opportunity you would have craved for if it hadn’t been given to you, so I don’t want to see you cowering now that it’s in front of you. Do not... disappoint me.” What a demanding woman. “There’s something else.” “That offer to monetize weaselperson? I’ve gone ahead and turned it down.” “Hmph. I figured you would.” “And I would advise you to avoid taking any of these meetings without my being present.” “You can take them all on your own, if you’d like. It’s not my environment.” “Very well.” Chapter 5. You wear the weaselperson costume, walking outside at night. You know how bizarre it is to do it. If you’d seen a man walking around dressed like that, you’d be inclined to cross the street, or if you had a trigger finger, call the pigs. You’re not sure why you’ve done it, why you’ve been doing it. But you feel like you’re closing in on the answer. Is it possible that a new identity can chane a person that much. You believed that becoming weaselperson was largely an irrelevant note. A different name, and a different look, but it didn’t change who you were. A technical mastermind. A submission specialist. A wrestling zealot. Nothing would change that. But you were starting to wonder if things had changed. If being weaselperson had altered you at your very core. You, oddly enough, began to doubt your own abilities. You’d failed to establish yourself, so long ago. You’d had impressive victories, but tapping out Cyrus Truth, irregardless of how you feel about him now, that’s not anywhere close to what you were doing 7 years ago, or even 3 years ago. 3 years ago you were tapping out to Devin Golden. 3 years ago, you shouted that you quit to Devin Golden. Was it Zachary Kazadi or weaselperson that had made Cyrus Truth tap out. The record books would say weaselperson. You said you hadn’t cared. That the name on the sheets were irrelevant to you, only that you accomplished your goals. And already, the first success, and you begin to question whether you want to even maintain the name of weaselperson. The truth is, most people would very well be if you stopped this charade. Throw away the suit. Embrace the old you. All you’ve done is give your opponents reasons to berate you. Roadkill, you heard. Ignored, you’ve been. Shouldn’t you just discard the suit. Damned be Wanda’s desires? You won’t. You won’t throw it away. You want to believe the reason you won’t do it is because you want to stand by your pledge. You’ve always been a man of your word, well, up until you went back on your quitting of the FWA. But that’s not what’s keeping you from throwing the suit away. There is now going to be a cloud hanging over your head forevermore. Will I go back to my past struggles if I remove the suit. Am I dooming myself by doubting the suit. Why the hell am I giving so much power to the suit?! You want to know whether your success depends on it, or whether you’d be just as good with or without it. You’re supposed to find a weakness in Danny Toner. Could the suit be the key? Are you that afraid of him, that you need to rely on it? It used to be, you wouldn’t have thought twice about the difference in skills, but how the years have changed you. You stop in the middle of the street, and notice a couple walking by. They spot you after many seconds of blatant staring, and feeling creeped out, they hurry off away. Why did you stare? Stop being so creepy. All bug-eyed and shit. The truth is, you did feel different being weaselperson. A placebo effect, maybe? But you felt like... the way you fought changed. On the surface, it wouldn’t look that way. You were still a man who had a submission for every situation and would apply it. But, were you somehow becoming more instinctive in your reactions? Beating someone like Danny Toner, whose passion drove him, even if it was poisoned passion, required adapting on the fly. You stopped on your walk once again, staring into a chicken coop. You’d heard it said that weasels were rather savage killers. They would take out an entire coop, more than the amount of chickens necessary to be filled at that moment, and stash the rest to be eaten later. Weasels were fascinating creatures, you knew. Clever, dangerous, and savage. And you’d like to imagine that those were the very traits you were adopting- Kazadi takes off the top of the weaselperson suit. He sweats profusely and breathes heavily. “I’m losing it. How pathetic.” He stares at the face of the one who was once Jonathan Snow. He was an ordinary person, as far as you knew. None of this bizarre business about his external image influencing his internal self. I put on a mask and suddenly start to think I’m actually becoming an animal. I used to be rational. Is it, Danny? Is the pressure getting to me? The Uncrowned Champion in my path? How far back will I fall if I lose to him. And why, for fucks sakes, why, am I speculating that I’ll lose? He’s been dismissing this whole roster week after week, top to bottom. By beating Chris Peacock, he’s validated his position at the top of this roster. I can’t lose to him. I may not be fond of everyone here, but I can’t let that man be proven right. It’d be dishonorable to me, and it’d be disgraceful to everyone else. I have to beat him. Not just beat him, I need to make him tap out. I made Cyrus fucking Truth tap out so there’s no reason to think I can’t make Danny fucking Toner tap out. In fact, whatever praise I’ve got for Danny, there’s no doubt he’s not the sort of guy to hold out when the pain gets too much. I’ve watched the tapes. The loss to Best, from so long ago. He might have a fire ready to be stoked in his chest all the time, but it’s possible to snuff that fire out. Danny is going to be just as motivated to beat the shit out of me as I of him. No, more specifically, he’ll be determined to make a mockery of me. To make me out to be ridiculous. To bait me. Because he fancies himself a chessmaster, even if he’s not. Even if that’s never been his game. So, let him play the piece mover. Better than the guy who knocked out Thomas West and became a World Champion. Give me the coward who led Executive Excellence, and I’ll pick him apart as the weaselperson who humbled the Vagabond King. I can do this. weaselperson can do this. Those two are one and the same. Stop overthinking things. Stop doubting yourself. Just do what you’ve made yourself confident you can do to anyone. Tap out or pass out.