$235.99

(Cross-posting from Fight 2 Win.)

The vrooming purr of an environmentally friendly electric engine bounds up the dirt path toward the main gate of the enigmatic Hawthorn Sanitorium, kicking up considerable dirt as it finally eases into the lot. The doors open, and the scent of stale air and ghastly musk immediately whooshes inside the Tesla Model 3.

The first to climb out of the driver's seat is Judith Framm, a plain-looking young woman in black-rimmed eyeglasses, hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a black Colorado Buffaloes sweatshirt and a pair of black leggings. A mainstay in Brightwell's life, Judith had been his therapist since he'd moved to Colorado and began his professional wrestling career. As annoying as he could be at times, Judith's kinship developed over time into a more personal relationship with her client just based on how fucking nutty and stimulating he was. While this certainly breaks a therapist's ethical and moral guidelines, she could legally justify it by not charging him a fee for her services. Instead, she simply hypnotized him into believing that coming over and doing weekly household chores for her would prevent him from getting diseases that might lead to his genitals rotting off.

Next out was Dr. Zarflax. A typical bald and skinny white male, Dr. Z, exited the car wearing a long white lab coat to compliment his whole scientist mantra. Underneath was business casual, with a white shirt and a pair of khakis - fashion snafu of deciding on a brown belt with black shoes. Just as you would suspect from a brilliant mind, it was apparent that he was not concerned with keeping up appearances. One might note the odd surname; if you're wondering about the country of origin, it doesn't exist. Dr. Zarflax was actually named Eric McNugent, and he wasn't a scientist but a wholesale napkin and silverware distributor for restaurants in the greater Colorado Springs area. Judith and Eric were friends and occasional lovers. Eric showed intrigue when she told him everything Bembe talked about in their sessions (also extremely unethical behavior). So, Eric was eventually brought in under the guise of an alien life form who could alter Bembe's body to protect him from his greatest fear. 

That ruse was precisely why the Living Lightning Rod was the third person to leave the car despite the voluminous cloud cover blotting out the sky above. He stretched his arms in his wrestling bests, accompanied by an unbuttoned Rockies jersey and a red Jansport backpack on his shoulders. As a result of being hypnotized by Judith inside a makeshift operating room (due to a "lack of anesthesia"), Bembe now firmly believed that his muscles had been extracted by Dr. Zarflax and replaced with industrial-grade rubber. Finally, lightning would have no way of getting him, and there was nothing else for him to fear.

BEMBE BRIGHTWELL

I can feel it in my buh-bu-buh-bones; this is the place we've been sss-sss-ssearching for!

Both Judith and Dr. Zarflax look at him. There were obvious indicators that this was indeed the place: the fact that it was spooky and scary-looking, the fact that the Tesla's GPS directed them to this address, and the fact that the sign not more than ten feet away read "HAWTHORN SANITORIUM" in giant letters.

JUDITH FRAMM

What gave you that idea?

BEMBE

I just told you. The feeling in my buh-buh-bones. God, for being my therapist, you sure as shit don't listen very g-g-g-gg-good.

Although his initial invitation was compromised, arrangements had been made to ensure that Bembe's arrival for the second episode of Lana Coppola's grand vision went as planned. While it was not on fancy paper like the others, the heir to the throne directed her pep squad platoon to entice him more subtly than the direct approach. It came as a direct message on the X app, produced by someone from Bembe's past.

@VixensVarsity: Hey, haven't talked to you since high school! Time flies! ;) How have you been? - Chelsley

@rubbermanBB: good how u bae

@VixensVarsity: I've missed you. Remember junior prom? We should relive that night again :* - Chelsley

@rubbermanBB: hell ya 

@VixensVarsity: Dario Kurosawa, President of Fight 2 Win, and Lana Cuppola, President of Wrestleflix hereby invite you: To the moonlit halls of The Hawthorn Sanitorium.

@rubbermanBB: ok

@rubbermanBB: io;rjejt;t3q4j 8230 k

@rubbermanBB: sorry my cat walked on my phone

DR. ZARFLAX

Relax, humans. Wrestle Earthling, you have no more time to waste. I mean, we WOULD have some time to waste if you hadn't insisted on going to Walmart on the way here.

BEMBE

You can't expect me to be an INVITED GUH-GUH-GHUH-GUEST to a stunning estate like this and not bring some kind of gift for the ha-ahuh-huh-host!

Pulling the backpack around his chest, he unzips it and pulls out a bag of disposable razors.

JUDITH

 ...that's what you got them? Shaving razors? Not even a cheap bottle of wine?

BEMBE

Well, excuse me for giving her suh-suh-suh-something practical. How many times have you run a duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-dull blade across your face and thought, 'Ah FRICK, I should have picked up some razors the last time I was at the st-st-ssssst-store!' Now, Ms. Cupholder won't have that problem.

ZARFLAX

God fucking dammit, Wrestle Earthling, it's CUPPOLA! Not CUPHOLDER! Did you see what happened to MOST of the wrestlers during the last event? Do you not think she'll slit your throat the second you mispronounce her name? And likely WITH those shitty razors you bought?

Bembe shrugs, trying to chuckle it off.

BEMBE

Cupholder, Cuppola. Tomato, Toh-toh-toh-tomahto. I'm a Hispanic guy who stutters; she'll just think it's my accent.

JUDITH

We'll see about that. Did you remember to pack the devices that Dr. Zarflax made for you?

Bembe nods, peering into the opening of the book bag and digging through to retrieve the gadgets. Tucked underneath a pair of boxer briefs, pajama pants, and his favorite teddy bear, he pulls out a very normal-looking cell phone and what appears to be a price-scanning gun.

BEMBE

Yeah, they're right here. I really don't know why you nuh-nuh-nuh-nu-need me to carry another phone, though.

ZARFLAX

Well, Wrestle Earthling, that's because it's not just any ordinary phone. This iz the zPhone.

Bembe shoots the alien physician a questionable look.

BEMBE

Did you just say the word 'is' with a 'z'?

ZARFLAX

I'm Alien, it's just my accent. Anyway, the zPhone works without the need for any cellular tower reception. This way, you'll be able to contact me if you fall into one of the ghost traps.

BEMBE

Got it. One problem, Dr. Zuh-zuh-zuh-Z: how will calling you help when I'm stuck in a fuh-fuh-fuch-fucking haunted house?

ZARFLAX 

Simple. I'll alert the police and tell them that I just bought crack from this very address. Best of luck to them trying to explain what's going on when the fuzz shows up! Especially if the first person they question is wearing a crazy wrestling mask and can't get through a sentence without stuttering. This way, if you don't have a chance to beat Cordelia for the Melee Championship, then no one will.

Brightwell, a bit caught off guard by how logical that answer was, nods and smiles.

BEMBE

Doc, I apologize for assuming that the extrater-rrr-rruh-ruh-ruh-ruh-rrestrial who replaced my muscles with tire rubber would ever invent something completely useless. So what's this other th-thuh-th-thuh-thing here, then? Some kind of awesome gamma ray buh-buh-blaster that disintegrates ghosts into space dust or something?

Dr. Zarflax shakes his head.

ZARFLAX 

No. It's just a price gun.

BEMBE

 ...oh.

ZARFLAX

But not just ANY price gun. Did you see all the decor in that place? This price gun can tell you the price of even the most PRICELESS works of art and ancient artifacts!

Bembe shrugs his shoulders, unsure what the alien is getting at.

BEMBE

That's cool, I guess...but um, nuh-nuh-nuh-no. I've never been inside there. I haven't even suh-suh-suh-shussuh-seen the place.

Bembe's therapist shoots him a stern look.

JUDITH

 ...did you not watch the first show on WrestleFlixx?

BEMBE 

Nah. I don't have a subscription. Was it any guh-guh-good?

Judith and Zarflax simultaneously smack their foreheads in disgust. Of course, he didn't watch the first episode and did no research. That would make too much sense.

BEMBE

What? Look, I don't know if you've got some particular outer space gizmo to put more money in my chuh-chuh-chuh-cheh-chech-checking account, but my camper isn't going to smell good on its own. All my supplemental income goes toward my scented ca-ca-ca-CAAA-candle collection, so I can't afford all these ssssssss-struuh-struh-streaming ser-serrr-ser-ssssssssssservices.

ZARFLAX

Why didn't you tell us this before? We've been stealingBobby Franchise's account this whole time! We could have just given you the username and password!

Brightwell shakes his head and chops his hands in refusal of the proposition, visibly disgusted that he would even mention such a thing.

BEMBE

Look, I might not be the most moral person in our galaxy, but one thing I certainly won't lower myself to is the illegal pie-pie-PIEEE-pirating of proprietary entertuh-tuh-tainment! Do you know how long and hard Ms. Cupholder…

JUDITH + ZARFLAX

CUPPOLA!

BEMBE

...has to work to provide top-tier content? Literally, working on a shoestring buh-buh-buh-budget just to make sure that her art is available to the masses for consumption? Eating nothing but gruh-gruh-gruh-grah-gruel and sleeping on a ratty old cot to ensure that all wrestling and fighting fans are provided with the performances they cra-cra-crave? 

JUDITH

Yeah, you obviously have yet to see the first episode. She literally inherited hundreds of millions of dollars, Bembe. Maybe even billions.

Bembe scratches the top of his multicolored lucha mask momentarily, pondering his therapist's last point.

BEMBE 

Dang. Why the hell did she tell Chelsley to invite me to fight here, then? I don't have a fanbase to bring vuh-vuh-vuh-vhuhewership!

Dr. Zarflax shrugs his shoulders at this particular question.

ZARFLAX

Even Alien Science needs more development to solve that one..

BEMBE 

Well, the only luh-luh-luh-logical solution is she must want to buh-buh-buh-buh-bone.

ZARFLAX

I somehow doubt that's the reason, Wrestle Earthling. Anyway, in case you aren't able to track down Cordelia, you can still manage to sneak some loot in the backpack. Just use the gun to make sure it's worth the take.

To test the weapon, Bembe points the pricing gun at his head and presses the trigger. As he turns the LCD screen over to examine it, the digital display registers the price of $235.99. Impressed, he shows the result to his two companions and nods.

BEMBE 

Wow! It really wuh-wuh-whuh-works! Calculated sales tax and everything.

He then turns the intelligent pricing gun back around and points it at the Tesla, pulling the trigger once more. It blips back a figure of $35,500.99, reasonably close to what the Tesla would cost off the lot. Again, he nods, dazzled at how accurate the gadget is. In truth, Dr. Zarflax had simply taken one of the price-checking guns from work and watched a YouTube video on how to rig them so that they only show one of two different prices every time. He'd assumed that the first thing Bembe would do would be to turn the gun on himself and try it, then point it at the most expensive-looking thing nearby -- likely a car. Neither Judith nor Dr. Z could have guessed that Bembe already believed his monetary value was exactly $235.99, which worked out. Stuffing all the contents back into his bookbag, Bembe zips it back up and throws it over his shoulders, then faces away from his entourage toward the omnipresence behind the main gate. A slight breeze blows against his baseball jersey, flapping the ends like a flag. It was as if this were the scene in the movie where the character was about to utter something heroic before he set off to conquer his destiny, an appropriate end to the scene.

BEMBE

Well, it's time for me to go now. You know, as I sit here and contem-tem-tem-tttttht-template how far I've come this year, it's hard to believe that the last time I put these snug tights around my ass and penis, I was scared to even go outside. Like a timid little mou-mou-mouse, a prisoner in my own hole. Now I freaking run miles in the pouring ruh-ru-ruh-rain. I stand out in open fields, bu-buh-buh-begging for Mother Nature to shoot her cruel electricity from her mighty bosoms to fill me up with shuh-shuh-shuh-shuh-shock and awe. Yes, in front of you, you see a man who fears no element, who ain't sk-sk-sk-sk-sk-sk-sk-skeered of what may or may not come. Right now, that fearless man's mind is in the race to achieve the goal: fight to win. And if there's tuh-tuh-tuh-tuh-tuh time, maybe also finger Chelsley like I did in the closet at Ashley Plumpson's prom afterparty. So wish me luck, guys. I'm off to fulfill my duh-duh-destiny!

Bembe turns around, but instead of seeing Judith and Dr. Zarflax ready to root him on, he sees a billow of dust and tire tracks from where the hushed motor of the Tesla has already driven them off and left him there.

Continuity note: Bembe was way too early to this event and hiked to an abandoned sleepaway camp for a night until he could eventually get cell service and call an Uber. The zPhone did not work as advertised.