VVe Are Closer Than the Enemy Knovvs

🌈

Walls in a soft pink color. A modestly decorated bedroom; a full size bed, a wooden dresser in a deep chestnut color, an adjustable desk with a laptop on it, a high-end pink and blue plush office chair, and a TV stand matching the dresser’s color with a sixty inch screen.

This was the room Ria Lockhart called home in her mind. She sat in the chair, unbelieving eyes trained on her visitors. RIA? That was no surprise. But the green version of Ria Nightshade? She was practically a phantasm from yesteryear, a neon reminder cloaking a cloudy memoir.

“I can't believe it…” Lockhart stammered once she picked her jaw up off the floor. “I… I thought you might be gone.”

The green version of Nightshade crossed her arms over her chest and smirked.

“Yeah, well, turns out I'm your herpes. Ya think I'm cleared up and BAM, the itching flares up outta nowhere!”

Lockhart’s initial stupor quickly fell by the wayside.

“Can you please be serious?” the Steel Hart said, her tone tinged with annoyance. Much like her counterpart's shock, Nightshade’s mirth evaporated.

“Oh, you don't want me to be serious.” the Toxic Queen snarled. “If I'm gonna be serious, I'm gonna be seriously PISSED OFF. You get that, right?”

Lockhart sighed, shoulders slumping, eyes moving to the ground.

“I know, but…”

“Oh fuck off with that!” Nightshade exploded before Lockhart could follow up on the pause. “I trusted you! I trusted you to keep yourself -- and by extension, ME -- safe! I didn't expect fucking perfection, but Christ, you splinter off ANOTHER fucking piece and look what happened! I even tried to stop her and she still fucked everything up!”

Another moment of quiet. Lockhart raised her eyes up to meet her fuming personality.

“But it's my fault that--”

“No shit, it's your fault!”

Again, the Hardcore Harlot cut the alpha Ria off.

“Like I said, I trusted you! And even after all that, you couldn't even be bothered to come check on me?! I thought we fixed shit, Lockhart!”

The Rainbow Rock pushed up out of the chair, pacing over to face one of the pink walls. She couldn't bring herself to make eye contact right this moment.

“I was scared, okay?!” Lockhart threw her hands up, still facing away from Nightshade. “What if I opened that door and the room was empty?! Then what?!”

Seconds of silence. Nightshade opened her mouth, but before any words could be spoken, RIA stepped between the two of them. She looked at Nightshade, then over to Lockhart.

“But it wasn't,” the Psychoberry softly responded. “It wasn't empty. And just cuz things are kinda crazy right now don't mean you two gotta treat each other all shitty. Same side, yeah? We can be in this together.”

Lockhart turned around, eyes finally meeting Nightshade's again. The green coded personality sighed, her anger slowly subsiding.

“I guess Pinkie Pie here has a point.”

The alpha Ria stepped forward, just outside of Nightshade's personal space.

“Look… I didn't mean to let you down or make you feel abandoned,” Lockhart said softly. “I was actually really happy back when we kinda fixed things. I know I made a mess. I'm not denying that.”

The Toxic Queen momentarily looked down. When her eyes moved back up, her gaze casted sorrow instead of frustration.

“Then why are you hiding?”

Lockhart huffed, shaking her head while her shoulders slumped subtly.

“I'm not ready…”

Despite the current dreary mood blanketing the interaction, RIA let a big cheese-eating grin spread across her face. She pointed to herself with a thumb.

“That's alright, though! I got this shit!”

“Bitch, you used me to beat the piss outta that fat smelly douchebag with the awful hair!” Nightshade scoffed.

The Psychoberry casually shrugged her shoulders. “Ya seemed like ya really wanted to do it.”

The Hardcore Harlot snickered, the noise landing between amused and angry, as is her nature.

“Oh, I enjoyed myself immensely, but that ain't the point!” Nightshade stated. “Lockhart used to keep me stored away cuz she didn't wanna rely on me. You've had both me and the purple bitch out. Can you stand on our own two feet?”

RIA placed a hand on her hip.

“I beat Sage, didn't I?”

“She has a point,” added Lockhart.

Nightshade's eyes darted to the Steel Hart before going back to RIA.

“Fine… but now ya got fat smelly douchebag and his junkie cowboy pimp to deal with,” Nightshade pointed out, stepping into the Psychoberry's bubble. “Sure, you got that jacked Japanese guy on your side, but you ready to show what ya can really do?”

Head held high, RIA smirked back at her close counterpart.

“Ain't gotta choice. I think Kerry and I both plan to go down swingin’, if it comes to that. And I sure as shit don't plan for it to go that way.”

Nightshade's eyes widen with excitement and that dangerous smile works its way back onto her face.

“Damn, Rainbow Brite’s got some balls on her! Which is weird, cuz I thought we got rid of--”

“Stop it.” Lockhart again interrupted.

“Anyway, most the tag matches I been in ain't been high level stuff,” RIA admitted. “Last big one I was in, I got slapped with a wrench. Which one of us has the best tag record, so I can strategize?”

Lockhart raised her hand.

“That'd be me.”

Nightshade stepped away from the conversation, hands going to rest behind her head.

“Whatever, you two hos go ahead and talk tactics,” said the Toxic Queen, plopping her butt down in front of the television. “Imma just sit over here and play on the Dreamcast.”

“WE HAVE A DREAMCAST?!” questioned RIA, her tone a combination of incredulousness and excitement.

Nightshade smirked as a controller popped into her hands.

“Bitch, it's our brain! We can conjure up whatever shit we want!”

While Nightshade focused on the TV, Lockhart waved the Psychoberry over to her bed.

“Okay, let’s discuss tag wrestling…”

🐉

“Why are you here?”

Erik Black flashed a galling smirk, all but begging for a fist to be buried deep into his face.

“What’s it look like, Kurry?” he said, dropping a golfball onto the patch of green astroturf at his feet. “I’m working on my stroke!”

The driving range was a massive caged enclosure sitting on top of a building in the northeast corner of Kabukicho. Several stories below, the sea of noise and neon emanating from the city’s red-light district hummed and undulated with an alluring magnetism.

“Just seems like Tokyo is a bit off the beaten path.”

Kerry Kuroyama leaned against the painted plywood wall of the booth, his impatience steadily growing every passing second in the presence of the man in white.

“Sure is…” Black concurred with sarcasm. “I mean, personally, I’d rather be overseeing the ongoing renovations in your rather expensive and indulgent wet dream of a wrestling school… but lucky for us, your dipshucks cousin has a handle on the situation.”

With uncharacteristically unstained hands tightening around the grip of a driver, the former Rezin got into position and relaxed his shoulders.

“Good, eager lad, that Zack. I buy the equipment, and he puts it right where it needs to go. Genius talents. I swear, anyone with the last name ‘Daymon’ was BORN to be a useful idiot. He’s also been making some progress with that new kid. You know, the ex-junkie… Bilbo? Betamax?”

“Beto.”

“Right, right…”

He took the swing. The ball sailed off the raised platform into a slow, graceful arc before hitting the turf just past the two hundred yard marker.

“The real reason I’m here, partner… is because I feel the time has come for me to get a bit more involved in your endeavors. Because I look out for my INVESTMENTS. And see, I’m a bit worried my valiant, sober, and PROFITABLE Sisyphus is perhaps taking too much of his focus off of ‘the ETERNAL CLIMB’ to goof around with STONED KOALAS and pick fights with COCAINE COWBOYS.”

Kerry shrugged. “The Whoresmen fucked with the wrong people. The world needs to know there are consequences to that.”

Dropping the next ball, Black visibly shuddered at Kuroyama’s use of profanity.

“Kurry, this type of thinking is exactly why people call you a coward and a pussy to your face, and get away with it...”

The rage blossomed within the Emerald Apex in the form of fire filling his chest and ice running down his spine.

“You thought you were sending a message,” continued Black. “But in the end, instead of showing them ‘consequences’, that roid-raging cowpoke KICKED IN your KEESTER on national television! They FRICK with your people, because they know GOSHDARNED WELL that they can get away with it! Because YOU like to play it professional! YOU ‘keep it in the ring’... where it supposedly ‘matters’. But Kurry, the laws and norms of this industry don’t apply to these Poor Who-wh-wh-w… Who-wh-w…”

He gagged, unable to bring himself to speak the word.

“...HARLOTsmen!”

Taking a deep breath, Erik studied the green for a beat, and took the swing. The ball flew slightly further than the last drive, but not by much. With an unimpressed grunt, he reached into the bucket for another ball.

“One MEAGER pinfall isn’t going to get this Diamonds FREAK to suddenly realize his mistakes and reevaluate his life. Nah… that’s now how this works. You bring a suplex, they bring a STEEL CHAIR! You bring a koala, they bring a DINGO! This ‘WAR' of yours only stands to further ESCALATE and SPIRAL out of control, until one of you is left BROKEN at the other’s feet, or carried out in a BODYBAG.”

Black drew back the club. As he did, Kerry realized the irony of his words.

“Guess you’d know from experience…”

The shot sliced hard to the left.

Black angrily threw down his club, his pandering smile instantly overtaken by a lurid snarl. Clearly, Kerry had touched a nerve by referencing his years as the notoriously repugnant Goat Bastard of the wrestling world.

“...maybe I do,” seethed the former Rezin. “But even at my worst, I can guaran-goshdarn-TEE that NONE of these FILTHMONGERS could hold a MOLOTOV to the OLD me!”

Grumbling, the former Universal Champion scooped up the club and prepped the next shot.

“My advice to YOU, Kyurry, is to FORGET about this goofy ‘war’. You’re only setting yourself up to FAIL yet again. Because the only way to properly fight these VILE REPROBATES is on their own crazy, depraved level… which means you’d need to give up on the clean and honorable 'pure wrestling' image you hold so dear.”

Setting his club into position once more, Black looked up to the Emerald Apex and again flashed his shit-eating grin.

“And we BOTH know, Kyurry, that you will NEVER be willing to make that sort of compromise. So just cut your losses, and walk away from this mistake. As for RIA? Sweet girl and all, but she’s kinda made her own bed with this lot. Scrape her off! Feed the dead weight to the jackals! Focus on what’s IMPORTANT right now… GOLD, Kyurrry! GOOOLLD!”

Kuroyama let out an exhausted sigh. Had he reached his limit with this dipshit?

Or was he just unwilling to admit there was a smidge of truth to his words?

Whatever the case, he began looking to the exit.

“If Diamonds keeps getting up, I’ll just keep knocking him down,” he surmised. “I’m supposed to be pushing that boulder up the hill, after all. Anyway, if we’re done here, I got places to be.”

Not even bothering to look up from the ball, Black shook his head with an officious snort.

“Have FUN tonight, Ker,” he said with thick resentment. “I’m sure you’ve got PLENTY of Yakuza fantasies to live out on the streets of Kabukicho! OH ALSO, I hear MAGNUS DESTRUCTO owns a BDSM outlet now, in case you’re still looking for a Valentine’s Day GIFT for that PEE-WHY-TEE you’ve been hanging with, Miss Am--”

Black drew back the club, but never got the chance to swing.

In a heartbeat, he was being slammed up against the booth wall with Kerry’s hand throttling his throat, causing his eyes to balloon out of his skull and his face to turn as purple as his undershirt.

“Speak her name again, you slimy bastard, and this partnership is over,” said Kerry, in a voice as deep and portentous as a distant thunderclap. “And you’ll see just how much I’m willing to compromise... after I fucking kill you.”

Kuroyama released his grip, leaving Black to crumple to the astroturf and wheeze for air.

In the moments that followed his departure, the man in white’s gasps slowly morphed into a low, insidious laugh.

“Heh heh… there might just be hope for you yet, Kerry…”

🌈

“Okay, so quick tags,” said RIA, attention on Lockhart. “Head on a swivel. Treat it as a marathon, not a sprint. Any other advice?”

“Yeah, don't worry about who gets the pin,” the Steel Hart replied, a hint of something in her voice.

Regret? Bitterness? It was hard to tell.

“Uh… you wanna talk ‘bout it?” the Psychoberry offered, having picked up on the off tone in her words.

“Nope,” Lockhart quickly responded.

RIA shrugged and shifted positions, laying back with her arms keeping her mostly upright.

“Okay, well how bout this then? The gold door. Greenshade--”

“That's a stupid name!” Nightshade snarked at the Psychoberry without turning away from the TV.

RIA continued her thought, unperturbed. “...told me I'd find more answers in there. I'm guessin’ ya wouldn't be willin’ to go with me.”

The Toxic Queen hit the pause button on the controller, turning to look at the other two Rias.

“As much as I was giving Lockhart shit for not checking on me, it'd probably be better if she didn't go in there,” Nightshade informed the Psychoberry in a gentle tone.

“And from what ya said, you don't wanna go in either,” RIA reaffirmed, more for herself than anything else.

“Not unless you plan to be a janitor and clean the blood off the wall after,” Nightshade responded, turning her attention back to the game.

“This secrecy crap is startin’ to get old,” grumbled the Psychoberry.

Lockhart leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs.

“You want answers… I could tell you everything you wanna know right now.” said the Rainbow Rock. “Who's who, how and why they came to be. Everything you wanna know. But it would be from my perspective. I think you're better off meeting everyone and forming your own opinion. Firsthand experience can be a hell of a teacher.”

RIA took a moment to let the words sink in. She nodded, pushing up off the bed.

“Fine, alone it is, I guess. Can't be worse than Blackshade.”

Nightshade mashed the pause button again, her head whipping back to shoot a spiky glare at RIA.

“How come she gets to be Blackshade and I gotta be Greenshade?!” she barked, with the tiniest hint of a whine in her tone.

“Cuz she's a totally miserable bitch,” the Psychoberry reasoned. “And you're only a slightly miserable bitch.”

“Aww!” Nightshade fluttered her eyelashes, clutching her hands together to her heart playfully.

“Not sure that was really much of a compliment,” Lockhart stated. “Anyway, don't be so sure it won't be worse. Who you find behind that door isn't exactly pleasant.”

“To put it fucking mildly,” Nightshade agreed.

RIA looked between Lockhart and the Hardcore Harlot.

“That bad?”

“You know Vickie Hall?” said Lockhart. “Give her twice the brain power, and make her reasonably attractive.”

Nightshade scoffed loudly. “‘Reasonably’? Bitch, we're hot! It's fine to admit it.”

Lockhart rolled her eyes, a faint hint of redness speckled her cheeks.

“My point is, it won't be less painful than dealing with Blackshade. Just a different kind of painful.”

The Psychoberry puffed her cheeks before letting the air spill out in an exaggerated manner.

“Boy, yinz are really makin' this sound like it'll just be the most fun interaction for me!”

“Ya know what they say,” said Nightshade with a shrug. “Curiosity slayed the puss.”

RIA couldn't help but burst out into a giggle fit. Lockhart was less amused.

“That's not how it goes and you know it!”

“Yeah…” the Toxic Queen grinned. “I like it better, though.”

“Got a laugh outta me!” encouraged RIA.

Lockhart pushed through her exasperation, her eyes settling on RIA. “Whatever. Forget about the door for a minute. Do you think you're ready for the tag match with Kuroyama against the Whoresmen?”

Another shrug from the Psychoberry.

“Ready as I'm gonna be,” she stated. “I mean, I'll have to talk strategy with him too, but I feel a bit more confident after our plannin’. Won't feel like I'm just talkin' out my ass, at least.”

Lockhart nodded.

“Take it seriously,” the Steel Hart advised. “You've seen what they can do when they're on the same page. You and Kerry gotta find that level of synchronization.”

“You know that Ker and I have been through some shit,” RIA politely pointed out. “We got personal, fought and earned each other's respect. We got a bond. I ain't sayin’ I don't take the Whoresmen seriously. I'm sayin' I believe in us more than I fear them.”

🐉 🌈

BAR TOUKON was a small ten by five meter basement establishment, hidden beneath the narrow, tourist-choked alleyways of Kabukicho’s Golden Gai district. An indistinguishable stairway between buildings led Kuroyama through into its subsurface threshold, into a space that was hardly the size of a janitor’s closet.

Instantly, he was greeted by the Psychoberry’s prickly and playful tone.

“Bitch, you're late!”

Kerry sighed. “Had to deal with something… sorry.”

Waving it off, RIA gestured to the spot next to her at the small, five-foot long bar. Kerry pulled up a stool, greeted the elderly mama-san with a slight bow of his head, and requested "mizu", all while doing his best to ignore the alcohol selection displayed invitingly on the shelf.

“Interestin’ choice for a meet and bitch sesh,” said RIA, throwing back her appletini. “Gotta ask, why here?”

Kerry nodded. A moment later, the mama-san served him a glass of water.

“My grandfather.”

He looked down into the glass, seeing his own reflection staring back.

“Daisuke Kuroyama. Winner of the Global Big League in ‘71 and ‘74. Wrestled hundreds of matches in Budokan Hall. According to stories my dad would tell me, his post-fight routine was to come here to Golden Gai and throw a few drinks back. Rubbing shoulders with poets and gangsters alike…”

Now he looked up, and stared longingly into the bottles of gold and brass liquids that lined the shelf behind the bar.

“For years, it was always a goal of mine to come here and enjoy a glass or two in honor of ol’ sofu…”

He looked back to the water cupped in his hand, groaned, and shook his head.

“So much for that idea…” he said ruefully, followed by an embittered sip. “Anyway, before we talk shop, I wanted to ask your opinion on something…”

RIA blinked, and braced herself for his question. Kuroyama turned his head, looking directly into her rainbow-tinted eyes.

“Sometimes it's necessary to give in to your ‘darker side’,” he said. “I get that. But I’m wondering… is it really worth the compromise?”

The Rainbow Riot sighed.

“Yes and no?” she said. “Like… sometimes, it's cuz I know I wouldn't do the kinda damage they would. But it's kinda scary for me too. Giving up control to someone? It takes a level of trust. It's worryin’ and stressful.”

Kerry slowly nodded as he considered the words. His gaze again found the shelf.

Bottles of Suntory and Tenjaku and Nikka. Resting.

Waiting.

Knowing one day, a compromise would be made.

“Right…” he said with another sip of water, trying in vain to douse the fire eternally burning hot and hungry within chest. “Anyway, another thing I wanted to ask you about…”

He reached into his coat pocket, procured a small clamshell box of purple velvet, and set it onto the bar.

“My gift for Ami.”

Kerry lifted the lid, revealing a pair of earrings. Silver sterling teardrops, set with a triad of amethyst, sapphire, and pink zirconium heart-shaped stones.

“...is it too much?

The Psychoberry inspected the items, and smiled softly.

“A lesson for ya, Kerry,” said RIA. “Too much is rarely a thing when it comes to gift givin’, at least as far as I'm concerned. You did great. But ya gotta make sure you're as emotionally invested as ya are financially, yeah?”

Kuroyama returned the giftbox to his pocket.

“Yeah… believe me, I’m invested,” he said. “And this war with the Whoresmen? I’m invested in that too. So let’s butcher these bastards. In the place where the name Kuroyama reigns supreme.”

Kerry raised his glass.

“To Daisuke…”

RIA raised her own, and winked.

“To Grandpa Daisuke!”

Clink.