We were in Gorilla, the waiting area just behind the curtain, both six-man teams. The noise of the crowd was a physical vibration against the floorboards. Our match was next, and we were lined up waiting to go.
Everyone except Cal.
“Anyone seen Deadlock?” the match producer called out, checking his headset, looking stressed. “We go live in two minutes!”
We all shook our heads. None of us had seen him, yet everyone turned to me, as if I should have the answer. As if we were still a unit.
No sooner had the producer yelled than he appeared.
He looked just about as bad as myself, but in a different way.
His eyes were dead. Hollow. He didn’t show emotion. He wasn’t his usual self, charming, loose, ready to steal the show. He was reserved. Cold. He looked straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge anyone around us. He didn’t high five Evan. He didn’t nod at Martinez. He just stood there, adjusting his wrist tape, staring at a spot on the wall. This was a job. That was all.
TheDemolitionteam went out first, one by one, to a crowd hyped beyond belief.
Then, it was theShowdownteam. Evan went first, popping the crowd. Then Martinez, flipping through the curtain. Then the two rookies, nervous and shaking.
Leaving me and Cal last in the dim red light of the Gorilla position.
We stood in the darkness. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but the silence between us was louder. It felt suffocating.
“Cal—” I started, my voice barely a whisper. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say.I’m sorry? Please look at me?
“Fuck you,” he said flatly.
He didn’t even look at me. He didn’t turn his head. He just spat the words out like poison. Then his music hit, and he was off, strutting into the lights like he didn’t have a care in the world, leaving me standing in his shadow.
Now, it was my turn. The crowd was chanting my name.
Silas! Silas! Silas!
I stepped through the curtain, my music blaring, my graphics illuminating me. My Carolina Blue and white gear glowed under the brightness. This was the moment. The one where I truly felt like a star. I pretended I was alright. I pretended this was the only thing on my mind.
But it wasn’t.
“And introducing… North Carolina’s own… Timeless Silas Reed!” the ring announcer belted.
I walked to the ring, forcing a smile, slapping hands with fans, but I felt like I was walking to the gallows.
The bell rang, and chaos erupted immediately.
The match started out fast, but it became clear very quickly that we were disjointed.
TheShowdownteam wasn’t a unit; we were six guys fighting individual battles.
Demolition, on the other hand, was a machine. They cut the ring in half. They isolated us exactly as the agent had laid out in the back, but it felt heavier, sloppier.
First, it was Dean Knoxville. They threw him into the barricade with a sickening thud, then hit their finisher, a double team powerbomb through a table.
“Dean Knoxville has been eliminated!”
Then Carter Divine. He got caught in a submission hold by Raven. He tapped out withinseconds.
We were down to four. They still had five.
Evan was fighting valiantly, trying to keep the team together. He looked at me, then at Cal, screaming at us to get our heads in the game. “Stick to the plan! Focus!”
But we couldn’t.
