All Apologies

05.29.26 Long Island, New York

The hallway outside the Red Army locker room is quiet, but not for terribly long as we hear a crash and a bang. The door opens, revealing a furious Kenny Freeman with his fist on the locker door in front of him and muttering “this isn’t fair” to himself. Our attention turns to his phone, laying on the bench. Upon closer inspection, we see what has drawn the ire of the Red Army’s junior member: an email from the Army’s search and rescue team.

Comrade Freeman,

Our long and arduous journey on the Sparrow Hills has come to a conclusion, and we come bearing bad news. We searched high and low, far and wide across the Hills, and came up empty in our search for your brother Jack. We cannot say for certain whether he is dead or alive, but he simply does not appear to be anywhere in the area.

If anything should come up we will keep you updated. We apologize for the disappointing result of this, and hope all the best.

~ Expedition Team 607

(Translated via Floogle Rubicon)

Looking down at the phone is Randall Schwartz, who we quickly realize is the one who came into the locker room in the first place.

“The hell?” he asks, pointing to the phone. “All that for nothing?”

“Max Kael is gonna pay for this,” Kenny states, plopping himself on the bench beside his phone. He stops just long enough to grab the device before it falls to the floor from the impact. “That bastard did irreparable harm to my family, and this was the last straw.” Freeman looks to his friend, looking rather worn down from the news though the rage is still simmering inside him.

“Any issues I have with Ivan right now, I gotta put to the side,” he says, garnering a nod of agreement from Schwartz. “The only thing that matters tonight is making sure Max gets every ounce of what he deserves for the bullshit he put me and my family through.”

“I could not have said it any better myself, Kenny,” remarks a gruff voice, the Russian accent absolutely unmistakable as Ivan Stanislav steps through the doorway. “I’m glad we are so firmly on board, considering what must be done.”

“Of course, Starshy Praporshchik,” Kenny replies. “I apologize for any doubt I might’ve had. Ready to protect the Red Army’s good name and make sure Kael of all people doesn’t leave the UBS Arena with that Intense Title.”

Ivan nods with a smile, patting Kenny on the back as they begin talking over strategy for the evening to come. The conversation becomes less clear to us, aside from Randall offering the occasional helpful tip about “avoiding the barbed wire” as if Stanislav is somehow unaware of the dangers of it, but to Ivan’s credit, he nods in response each time.

I am a man with very divided attention heading into ReVival 89, I’m not afraid to admit it. Finding out that the search for my brother came up fruitless has been trying on me, right up there with figuring out my place in the grand scheme of… well, all of it. The Red Army, PRIME, the whole shebang.

But even with my brain a little more scattered than usual, I am focused on one thing and one thing alone… protecting MY good name.

My involvement in Long Island was one of revenge, pure and simple. If I’d had my way I would’ve been the one to take Max Kael out myself, but for the sake of the Red Army’s reputation I was more than happy to accept a much smaller role in the proceedings. With that out of the way, I can focus on the road ahead… a road that begins in New York City.

Start spreading the news, folks, because Kenny by gum Freeman has his mind set on victory in Arthur Ashe Stadium. It’s the final stop on the road to UltraViolence, and I’m ready to make a statement in beautiful New York, New York at the cost of the up and coming William Stills.

Billy, I respect your gumption. Hell of a match against Toddrick in Long Island, I’ll give you that. This match is a matter of seeing who the better man is, and nothing more… unless I find out that William Rotten Socks nickname is literal.

Buddy, if I get so much as a whiff of foot odor from you I’m gonna crash out. Any and all respect I might have for you is going out the window if you come into that ring stinking up the joint. I’ll launch you out into the third row and let the fans deal with your smelly ass, I swear to God.

Otherwise, let’s have a hell of a match. See you in Arthur Ashe, Billy boy!

06.04.26 New York, New York

“I’m never letting you write these blogs again, Randall.”

Kenny is looking over The Entertainer’s shoulder at a PC workstation at the Waypoint Cafe, shaking his head at the utter goofiness his compatriot has just typed up. Randall looks back at him with a smirk before starting to type some more… only for Kenny to reach over and put his hands over Randall’s.

“No, that’s enough.”

The tense moment is interrupted by a flash of blue light, drawing the Masters’ attention to the doorway as Aeon Khronos walks in. The arrival gets a confused look from some nearby patrons of the cafe as Khronos approaches his former charges.

“Gentlemen, I think we need to talk,” he says, taking a seat beside them with a look of regret on his face. “The fact is, I think I owe you both an apology.”

Randall and Kenny look at each other, both trying to wrap their head around this.

“About what?” asks Kenny.

“About dragging you into stuff that should’ve been solely my responsibility,” replies Aeon with a light sigh. “I’ve spent far too long thinking about the day I recruited the pair of you into dealing with protecting the Multiverse. I realize now just how many things have gone for you in particular, Kenny. If I hadn’t brought you into all this, there’s no telling how things would’ve gone differently. You wouldn’t have been dragged into the Red Army, causing cracks in reality itself from your leader wanting the forbidden knowledge, and most of all I think that Max Kael wouldn’t have joined the group, and maybe Jack--”

“Don’t you dare,” Kenny says, cutting Khronos off. “I can’t focus on ‘what if,’ if I do that I’ll be buried in doubt my whole life. The reality of it is, if you hadn’t roped me into this I dunno what I’d be doing right now. I got out of wrestling so long ago I can barely remember what I was up to, but this whole thing is how I got back into this business. I’m finally starting to turn things around professionally, even if my personal life is in shambles.”

“And what about you, Randall?”

Kenny and Aeon turn their attention to Schwartz, who has just finished typing before hitting “Submit” on the World Wide Web page. He turns around to see a confused Aeon and a frustrated Kenny.

“Huh? Oh right, I’d probably be flippin’ burgers or somethin’, I dunno.”

“So thank you, Aeon,” Kenny presses on, trying not to think about what nonsense Randall may have added to the blog. “But you don’t need to apologize. All that needs to happen now is for me to get my head back into the game, because if I can’t prove I belong in this business by the time Colossus comes around what am I even doing, right?”

“Right,” replies Randall, one eye on the monitor. Kenny, having enough of whatever The Entertainer is up to, takes a peek at the screen to see what other remarks his friend has added on his behalf.

And another thing… when I beat you in the middle of that ring, I will put my name into the running for the Alias Title, and you can bet your bottom dollar I will take what belongs to me. When I do, I’m gonna make it a secondary tag title so my buddy Randall Schwartz can defend it with me. You feel me?

“God DAMN it, Randall.”