FRIDAY

Blinding light…

…

”Doc, you get paid hourly? Or is searing my corneas a hobby?”

Light’s off.

The polo-shirted concussion doctor… (roster nickname: Doctor Dickbag) squints into… The Dark Warrior mask’s eyes…

”How my lookers looking, Doc? Still there, or did Chuckie knock one out?”

…

”…Tough crowd. Isn’t laughter the best medicine?”

DD raises two fingers.

”How many?”

”…Uh…” ‘Graves’ performatively scratches his scalp… ”…What’s that one that comes AFTER one? Kinda looks like a meathook…”

…The doctor clicks his pen.

”Ah-ah-ah, fiiiiiine, no more bits.” ‘Graves’ raises his right hand… ”Two fingers.”

…‘Graves’s gaze lingers on his extended arm…

Brightly-colored thumbtacks, digging into hot-pink flesh.

Charlie Nickles’ handiwork…

…’Graves’ grinned as he pinched one. ”Wild… Can’t feel a thing.”

"Likely nerve damage.” DD states plainly…

…Backstage whispers suggested DD always sported a one-hundred-watt smile.

Like this guy that could crush your wrestling dreams with his pen? Just wanted to be pals.

…Funny.

‘Graves’ had never seen him smile.

"You ever consider taking time off?”

”...That a formal recommendation, Doc?”

”No.” DD says, eyes locked upon his clipboard. "*Were* I to make a recommendation…”

“I’d tell you to quit.”

…

”...Hehehehehe…” ‘Graves’ emits a guttural chuckle as he flicks off a thumbtack… ”Good one, Doc.”

”Not an option. The cause needs me.”

…

DD stamps the sheet…

CLEARED

---

SATURDAY

Quote:DID YOU KNOW…

Doctors employed by wrestling companies clear concussed athletes 35% more than other doctors?

Unchecked concussions end careers!

GET DOUBLE-CHECKED!

SPLAT! ‘Graves’ smacks his poster onto a locker.

Across the hall, Schism’s plastered eight identical posters into an ouroboros.

”Spread ‘em out, soldier. Ink doesn’t grow on trees…”

”O Captain, my Captain.”

“Ja! It’s not safe to wander ze halls!”

Down the hall, the Upp brothers nervously whisper…

“Black Rainbow could attack at any time!”

…’Graves’ hums thoughtfully.

---

SUNDAY

“Your… Honor…” ‘Graves’ types on his phone as he walks… “Justice delayed… is Justice… DENIED…”

“You union freaks just patrol backstage now?” Jessica Anderson spits as ‘Graves’ and Miss Furry shadow her.

“Master Graves is generously escorting talent traveling backstage! Preventing ambushes and CAT-astrophes! As we union members say, ‘strength together’!”

“Psssssh.” Jess snorts as she approaches the locker room. “You weirdos play hall monitor while real XWFers like Kieran King protect us!”

“…Isn’t Kiki just… randomly attacking XWFers these days?”

“To keep Black Rainbow on-guard! You don’t get it, COMMIE!” Anderson slams the door!

“Another Union deed well-done!” Furry licks her ‘paw’. “Master, will we escort Student Schism to his match tomorrow?”

“Schizz has himself covered.” ‘Graves’ finishes typing… “The cause calls me elsewhere…”

---

MONDAY

“The Court denied your motion?!? Case dismissed?!?”

“Without prejudice, Bo.” ‘Graves’ juggles his cell. “Prison Litigation Reform Act. The incarcerated can’t claim constitutional violations until they exhaust the prison’s own remediation system.”

“How long’ll that take? Lockdown Wrestling’s advertising shows this week!”

“Hold strong, comrade. Strength together.”

“The Warden’s got us fighting in the gas-chamber. Says the gas’ll flow til a pinfall.”

“…Bo, that ain’t happening while I’m breathing.”

“I ain’t worried about *your* breath, Mark…”

Suddenly, ‘Graves’’s phone chimes.

“Hang tight, Bo…”

*click*

“Furball.”

…

“Whoa, brake-check… What happened at Warfare?”

---

Flynn shoves his way into a hospital room…

…Schism’s skull’s bandaged… his typically hyper-dilated eyes shut…

…

”Fucking King…”

---

TUESDAY

“Fingers?”

“Two.”

…

“You ever consider trying three? Rumor has it the talent’s cracked your system.”

…DD stoically scribbles.

“…I have a funny feeling you’re not a fan.”

"…Really?”

“Just to clarify...”

“Those CTE posters? Trying to protect my people from themselves. You know wrestlers under-report concussion symptoms?”

“I do.”

“There you go. No disrespect.”

…

"You know why I don’t like you?”

‘Graves’ looks at DD.

Who, for the first time, is making eye-contact without concussion-checking ‘Graves’.

“Because I was here for the real Mark Flynn.”

“The one who counted every career he ended.”

“You sent me kids. In their teens.”

“Ink wet on their dream contract.”

“You BROKE them.”

“And left it to me…”

“To tell them their dreams were done:”

“Gone.”

“Dead.”

…

“…Fair.”

“Guess that’s why you recommended I quit? Personal preference?”

"No.”

"I recommended quitting because of my oath to minimize harm to my patients.”

DD raises his stamp.

“Personal preference?”

“I wish you’d die.”

CLEARED

---

‘Graves’ stares vacantly.

…Steve Sayors’s lips flap…

…But all ‘Graves’ hears is a dull buzz.

Like a disconnected heart monitor.

…It’s a full second before ‘Graves’ clocks Sayors stopped talking and is awaiting his answer.

”Apologies, Steve-O.” ‘Graves’ taps his ear. ”Was in a tunnel… Repeat?”

”Er… How’s it feel to be the Winning-est champion in Anarchy history?”

…

”hehehehehehEHEHEHEHEHE…*coughKERAUGH….”

‘Graves’ doubles-over, squeezing his spent heart…

”Phew…”

…

“Good one, Steve.”

---

282 days.

All-Time Longest-Reigning Anarchy champion.

…

What a joke.

I started a joke, Frances. That started the whole world crying.

Let’s get honest.

Anarchy’s winningest champion ever?

Has made ‘winning’ look reeeeeeal uuuuugly…

I promised I’d free the people from Kieran King’s reign-of-terror.

…But I couldn’t make him kneel. A draw.

I swore I’d punish Justin York, PWV owner, for abusing his labor-force.

…But York had me locked-up… before Keeton bailed me out.

I pledged to my Anarchy brethren…

And NK…

When Charlie Nickles, Universal champion, invaded the A-show…

There was nothing to fear.

…Chuck threw me on thumbtacks.

Dropped me on my skull.

And *chucked* me out the ring.

Yet, somehow, ‘Graves’ wins…

Hehehe…

I’m a loser, baby. Why don’t you kill me?

…

My point, Frankie?

Some insist you’re a long-shot.

Cuz I keep winning.

And you haven’t won… EVER.

…But I’ve seen you.

The music in you.

Transforming casual fans into ultra-violence worshipers.

You set their hearts ablaze…

…I felt that burning watching you battle ol’ Dirty-Six…

And I asked myself…

Is this burning… an Eternal Flame?

…

I know you, Goldie.

Like an old song I once knew by heart.

I need rebirth.

Baptism in my own blood.

And you’re the vicar of violence to cleanse me.

Frankie.

Do you know what that’s worth?

Hardcore Heaven.

Is a place on Earth.