Mirai, the Unknowable Future

[music]

-

It’d been twenty-four hours since Budokan, and Coral Avalon sat in the Natsukawa house in Kawaguchi with an amused smile on his face.

You wouldn’t think that of a man who just lost the Universal championship, a man who spent more than half of a year defending that championship and representing PRIME as a global brand during that time as its vaunted “King of Conquerors”. You would think he’d be furious about how it all went down. You would think he’d have seen what garbage had populated social media since Ivan Stanislav became the man that ended his run and his career in PRIME. You would think that he’d be in the gallows somewhere out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean over the loss.

And yes, we do mean “gallows” and not “brig”. Welcome to the eGG Bandits.

Instead, the King smiled.

“So, where do we go?” Coral had asked his wife.

Annabelle had been relieved that Coral made it out of ReVival 63 alive, not caring if he’s lost the championship or not. Sure, he was banged up, but it wasn’t any worse than how he felt after a lot of his matches in the company. Sage Pontiff nearly broke his ribs. Cecilworth Farthington nearly broke his arm. Sure, Ivan had Red Scared him off of the top rope, but he’d been through much worse in his life. Any fight you can walk away from and all that.

“What do you mean?” Annabelle asked, “I thought you told people you were going home.”

“I did,” Coral said, “But I didn’t say we go home immediately. The way I see it, we’re all due for a good vacation.”

“We’ve been everywhere, though. You might’ve been the only person in the PRIME roster who wrestled in Mongolia.”

“In retrospect, that was a really handy trip. Got to know some guys to teach Lunchbox Leroux how to do the throat singing thing.” Coral mused. He chuckled a bit, remembering how shitty the translator was and how ramshackle the ring was and how much Coral himself had to assist in repairing it to make it even remotely safe to wrestle in.

As tours went, it was only the third-most disastrous. The second-most was that time Fukumaru threw him into a freezing fountain, and the most was that shit in Pasadena that everyone involved swore an oath to never talk about again.

You know what happened.

Annabelle considered those words, but her tone turned grave when she asked him a very important question, “You know it’s Lunchbox Larry, right?”

Coral did a double take, horrified, “…It was Larry this whole time!?”

*.*

It’s Coral.

I know, you probably aren’t the most thrilled with me right now.

After all, I’m not exactly leaving the carton exactly as I found it.

Maybe you want me to report to the gallows or whatever, but I think I’ll pass. The gallows is for someone to wallow in misery for losing, and I’ve never been one to wallow in misery for very long. Not that you need lessons from a fellow Hall of Famer, but the third lesson is “the only way is forward”. You might’ve heard that one before, actually.

Listen. I’m going to tell you something that might actually cause you to remove the T-Shades from your face for, like, a fraction of a second. You’ve probably never heard anyone say this to you sincerely, and knowing you, I bet your reaction would be to Terminal Cancer me the moment that you see my face again.

Ready?

Here goes.

Thanks.

Thanks for everything.

Without you, I’m not sure I’d have ever found myself walking the path of conquest again. I’d have probably still been stuck in some sort of rut still talking to Matt Mills or whatever. We’ve never agreed on anything. We’ve never had the same vision. I admit I was never as hungry for the main event or Night Two as you are. But somehow, some way, you pushed me to find my crown.

So, like I said, thanks.

Oh, and now that you guys have the keys to the ship again, try not to sink the Octane.

- Avalon

P.S.: Does Mills even still work here? I haven’t seen him in a minute. Maybe I was up in the skybox for too long.

*.*

Percival Avalon had been standing there for more than two minutes watching his uncle pack his things. He’d had a bevy of questions for Coral since that night in Budokan Hall, but Coral never seemed to care that much that he’d just lost a major wrestling championship through dubious means in front of a Tokyo crowd that loved him like every other crowd did.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ll go to a Denny’s with the Kingdom one more time before we fly back home, why?”

“Not that, you…” Percy said, barely stopping himself from amending “dipshit” to the end of that statement, “…About leaving PRIME.”

“Never been surer of anything,” Coral said, “I don’t know if you know this, but I pretty much set the gold standard for what a Universal title reign should look like. I have nothing left to prove in PRIME. Not to me, not to anyone. Even someone as delusional as Ivan knows that he has big shoes to fill.”

“But don’t you have, I don’t know, some sort of right to a rematch or anything like that?”

Coral stopped what he was doing and turned his head towards Percy.

“Second lesson, there’s no guarantee of a second chance.” Coral said. He went back to placing his ring gear in its own special suitcase. Boots, kickpads, ridiculous leonine fur cape… you know, the basics.

Percival watched him do this, watching his mentor do this with the practiced motion of someone who’s had to pack those sorts of things hundreds of times before.

“But you’re just… You’re going to walk away?”

“Yup. I mean, people are calling this the end of my career, but… I’m not going to stop wrestling, you know? All this means is that I’m not wrestling for PRIME any more. Now I get to do it for fun around Seattle and raise my daughter… and the other one whenever they’re born. I have more than enough money and opportunities to raise my kids, wrestle how I see fit wherever and whenever I want, and… I don’t know, relax. I won’t have to worry about looking over my shoulder for someone to actually stab me or anything.”

Percival raised an eyebrow, and he seemed alarmed, “People were going to stab you?”

“Wouldn’t have put it past Rob Williams or especially Max Kael, to be honest. Or Jiles. Actually, especially Jiles. I was thankful for the skyboxes, actually, I didn’t have to worry that much about getting jumped in the bathroom backstage. Most dangerous place in PRIME, apparently.”

Percival didn’t know how to take that information.

“That place seems like a madhouse.”

“No, I’ve been to the Madhouse. Twice. You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced a zombie apocalypse disguised as a wrestling show.”

“Uh, you mean a wrestling show disguised as a zombie apocalypse, right?”

“Percy, did I stutter?”

“…No.”

“Then I meant what I said.”

*.*

It’s Coral.

Feels weird to be the one writing you a letter, I know.

I’ll be honest. I wanted to face you one more time in the Tokyo Dome. Win or lose, I would’ve enjoyed that. I’m sure you would’ve, too. Alas, some things aren’t meant to be.

You already know this, but a lot of what I act like on television when I speak to the camera isn’t the real me. I’m just playing the role of the unbeatable conqueror. Behind the camera, I’m just a family man who liked pro wrestling enough that I was willing to leave an easy life to pursue it, and had talent enough to make it work. It was never easy, just as it was never easy for you. We’re two guys who started out from the same point of origin, just with wildly diverging paths, who still love wrestling with all our hearts.

I don’t think I can call you a friend but I don’t think I can call you an enemy, either. Maybe it’s more like we’re kindred spirits.

I know I’m asking a lot out of you right now, but I have to follow my heart and pursue goals outside of PRIME. Maybe you’ll understand, maybe you won’t. If I see Julien or Hayes around to make me into glue or whatever, I’ll be sure to have them say hello to you on my behalf. If not, tell them I said hello. A hello will happen either way.

But if you see them before I do, tell them that the only unsolicited lesson I’ll ever give them is that “the old must eventually make way for the new”.

That’s lesson number four. They already know the other three.

Oh, and I hope you take care of my protégé.

He needs all the help he can get.

 - Avalon

 *.*

Perhaps sometime in the year 3025, where in one very bizarre alternate universe in which Ivan Stanislav’s reign as Universal Champion somehow triggered World War WTF despite the fact that it’s just a wrestling championship and not some keystone for the center of the universe like some weird squid cultists thought, Bandits will rule the lawless wastelands behind the banners of Lord Deanmongous and Immortan Jiles.

Perhaps they lead armies of fleshwheel men who’ve evolved fleshy tires instead of feet to traverse the wastes. Perhaps these creatures of living body horror are all that remains of mankind. Perhaps we shouldn’t be giving Universal championships all willy-nilly if that’s the future it’s going to lead to.

Or perhaps, in the year 2025, Coral Avalon will stand at a window in Tokyo International Airport contemplating his future as he prepared to leave one home for another.

Twenty-three years ago, he began his journey as a mere thief. The Kleptomaniac, who stole victories with the moves he stole from others. Death changed him. Wrestling didn’t love him like he loved it. He had to fight and scrap and claw for every bit of love and attention he would find by the end of his career, to become the King of professional wrestling he believed he could be. And now, weary at the end of his long conquest, he was finally ready to go home.

He wondered what awaited him when he got there.

He’d always known he’d slow down eventually and that there would be a cost to be paid for how long he spent on his conquest. But as he told his wife on that rainy December day in Seattle, he didn’t want everyone’s lasting memory of him to be as an old man clinging desperately to every bit of spotlight he could take. He wasn’t Ivan.

He wanted to go out as the champion he was in his prime, no pun intended.

His conquest was finally at an end.

He had no desire to look back on every bump and obstacle and setback he faced along the way. He didn’t care about the slander. He didn’t care about anything but the family he was coming home to raise and the students he’d bring into the future.

After all, the only way is forward.

*.*

It’s Coral.

A lot of people have asked me over the past few months if I was serious about leaving. Tsonda was chief among them, but plenty of others have questioned why I wouldn’t stick around and try to win back the title that I just lost.

But this was my plan from the beginning.

It didn’t matter if it was Ivan or Cecilworth or anyone else who punched my ticket. My foot was out the door one way or another. I know Ivan and Alexei are probably crowing very loud about all of this – I don’t know, I don’t pay attention to slander. But even they should know that the King of Conquerors is a very, very tough act to follow.

Anyway.

When I started wrestling, it was all I ever cared about. Morning and night, I thought about it. Even when I first met the woman that would be my wife, it was all about pro wrestling. I think if nothing had changed, my wife might’ve left me like Allison did.

But then I died, and I got a lot of damn clarity.

Also, a lot of recovery time. More than a year to be exact. I didn’t know if I’d ever get back in the ring again.

If it wasn’t for Wakana – you all know her as Annabelle – you might never have seen me in a ring again. She stuck by me through everything. She was there for every tour I took for Japan, and it’s not just because she grew up in Japan. I’ve wrestled on every continent (except Antarctica) and she was there for all of them. When I joined the eGG Bandits, she managed the unspeakable feat of not divorcing me on the spot for bringing Jiles and Bobby with me to meet her. She’s been my bedrock. She’s been my foundation.

So, now that she’s the one who needs support, I need to be there for her. I need to be her bedrock and her foundation. And I’m not just doing that for her. I need to be that for my daughter. I need to be that for the miracle to be. I don’t know the gender of my second child yet, but I’ll love them all the same.

I’ve been clear about this from the beginning, but I’m no hero to the people.

I’ve never been one. Never claimed to be one, either. I’m just a kid from Louisiana that loved pro wrestling, chasing his dreams until he finally caught them at the very end of his tale. There’s many like me, chasing their dreams like shooting stars chasing the sky.

But I do try to be a hero to my family.

No kingdom lasts forever, but I hope mine is remembered well.

Thy kingdom came.