WGWF Wrestle Wars RP

[Dorling]

Having won the WGWF Intercontinental Title Number 1 Contenders tournament I faced the champ, Christian Connolly at Wrestle Wars. I drafted in a couple of old characters for the conclusion of a story I'd been telling since I joined the fed. This is how it ended.



THE ABDUCTION

LAS VEGAS. APRIL 7TH. EVENING.

'Ow, fuck! What the hell is this all...'

The door of the van slammed shut and it went dark. Dorling sighed. He stretched his arms, bound at the wrist behind his back, and pushed himself up straight.

'Well what the fuck have you done now?'

Dorling could make out Katy's presence through the gloom. She was sitting opposite him.

'I have no idea. I don't even know who these guys are.'

'They specifically mentioned talking to you in Mesquite.'

'Did they? I didn't hear that, must have been when they were hitting me in the face. In that case, I remember seeing somebody in Mesquite, but that doesn't help because I had no idea what the fuck they were talking about then, either.'

'Was Mesquite the only time?'

'No, the guy said he was the one that approached me in the parking lot and told me that it was annoying when people messed in your plans. But I have no idea who he represents and I haven't got involved in any plans other than my own, so I'm none the wiser.'

'Do you think they are the people that smashed up your jeep and killed Chin's cat?'

'Well now I do! Why the fuck would they kill a cat though? I'm usually pretty aware of when I'm pissing people off because it tends to have been the objective in the first place, but I've been going all over the country with WGWF for the last few months, I haven't been around in Vegas long enough to piss anybody here off!'

'What about Black Death?'

'Nah, he's a friend. Even if he is pissed off about me beating him that doesn't explain killing a bloody cat over 2 months ago.'

'Well then let's hope we at least find out before we are executed and wrapped in plastic, so that I can die without that particular conundrum nagging at my brain.'

'Don't be silly, they're not going to kill us...do you think they're going to kill us?'

'Not many people bundled into the back of a van by mafia looking dudes tend to make it back in one piece.'

'Mafia types! Holy shit, that's what they look like! I couldn't put my finger on it. They can't be mafia though, surely? I have literally nothing to do with the mafia.'

'If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck...'

The journey continued for what seemed like a long time, primarily because it was so uncomfortable. When the van pulled to a stop, Dorling got ready to spring. Katy was not in agreement.

'Don't be a dumbass. Sit down. You have no idea how many people there are going to be and no idea if they are armed. Let's face it, they probably are.'

'Fine.'

The door swung open and two men in balaclavas pulled Dorling from the van. He was about to protest but a blow to the head rendered him unconscious.

THE MEETING

Dorling came to. He was tied to a chair with his hands behind his back. The thin guy from Mesquite, dressed in what could have been the same suit, was standing to his left. Katy was tied to another chair with a gag in her mouth to his right. In front of him, two burly looking guys in leather jackets flanked a portly, moustachioed man, sitting on an armchair.

'Do you know who I am?'

Dorling raised an eyebrow.

'Well you're sure as fuck not Barney the purple dinosaur.'

The guy to his left slapped him.

'Try again, Mr Dorling.'

'Fine. You're Vicenzo Santoro, crime – alleged – crime lord and influencer around the grand city of Las Vegas.'

'That's good. Introductions are awkward. I of course know exactly who you are.'

'That's comforting, always nice to meet a fan.'

Another slap.

'Do you know why you are here?'

'I'll be honest, I haven't got the foggiest mate.'

'You're sure about that?'

'Positive.'

'You are here because you did not listen to our messages.'

'You killed a cat, smashed my car and kept rocking up to tell me cryptic, but useless, information. If there was a message somewhere in there it was very well hidden. You should have just come out and said what you meant.'

'I'm afraid direct action would have been, shall we say, dangerous for us. I don't like that kind of attention.'

'I get that. I don't get why there needs to be action taken against me. I have literally nothing to do with you. In fact, I've probably helped enrich you by spending money in your casinos.'

'You really don't have a clue, do you?'

'I think that should be abundantly clear by now.'

'Well let me make it simple. Tell me where my daughter is and we'll let you and your friend go.'

'Your daughter? You don't have a daughter. You have – sorry, had – three sons.'

SLAP.

'Dude can you stop fucking hitting me please? What have I said wrong now?! Even your Wikipedia page says you have 3 sons. Alfredo – in prison. Nicky – dead, RIP. Antonio – I assume somewhere close.'

'You really think a man like me is accurately portrayed by Wikipedia?'

'Well, I never really thought about it. Aside from the time my Wiki was updated to say I was the first professional wrestler in space, it's pretty accurate.'

SLAP.

'Let me make this simple for you Mr Dorling. You have been seeing my daughter. My daughter is now missing and I need her back, immediately.'

'I've been seeing your...wait. April?'

'Maybe you are not a completely lost cause.'

'April Jones?'

'She is my daughter, but her mother is not the same woman who gave birth to Alfredo, Nicholas and Antonio.'

'Her half-brothers in the family business...fuck.'

'That's how she described things, is it?'

'That's literally all she told me. I don't know where she is. What the hell do you want from me?'

'I think you do know where she is. You're going to bring her to me.'

'How?'

'That is up to you.'

'Why should I?'

'Do you really need an example of my power?'

'Guess not. Ok, fine. Let us go and we'll find her.'

'Miss Calloway will be staying with us, for insurance. Rest assured, she will not be mistreated.'

'You had better live up to that promise, because I don't know if you are aware of this – but I don't like bullies. If I do this, if I get your daughter back to you and one single hair is out of place on that girl's head, I will end you.'

'Do you think it's wise to threaten me, Mr Dorling?'

'It isn't a threat. Now let me the fuck go.'

'I am aware of your appointment in Atlanta. April 16th, yes?'

'Yeah.'

'You will return my daughter to me no later than April 17th.'

'Or what?'

'Don't try me, Mr Dorling. It would be unwise.'

THE PLAN

LAS VEGAS. 9th APRIL. DORLING'S APARTMENT. 1930HRS.

'Thank fuck you grew a beard.'

Dorling looked at Marvin Peabody, his old employee and now reluctant accomplice. He stood before him, wearing the exact same clothes that Dorling himself had been wearing just 30 minutes ago, with a baseball cap and some aviator shades.

'You really think I'll pass as you?'

'Long enough for it to matter.'

'What if they're not happy? They're not going to hurt me, are they?'

'Vitaly will be there to protect you. They just have to think that you're me long enough for me to get away.'

'And we're square after this?'

'Marvin, we're more than square. If this works I'll owe you.'

'Ok, so run it by me again. This for your benefit as much as mine.'

Dorling took a swig from his glass of rum and sat on the couch.

'Ok, so since they let me go they've been tailing me. They're outside now in that fucking black Sedan and they're all set to keep following me until I lead them to April.'

'At which point they will probably just take her, and not wait for you to turn her in.'

'That's right, and they'll probably do something nasty to me, too.'

'But you know where she is?'

'I have an idea. Her friend gave me that note. It mentioned 'the clash.''

'And you think that it's referring to Cancun Clash?'

'That's right. It was the biggest night of my time in SCW and April knows that. I think she's in Mexico. Or at least she will be.'

'When?'

'The note also said 'squad number minus 6.' When I was the GM of the Las Vegas Aces basketball team, I gave myself the squad number 20. 20-6 is 14. I think she's going to be in Cancun on the 14th, 2 days before WrestleWars.'

'So what's the plan, after you find her?'

'I need to know why she's running. My hunch is that she's the one that tipped the cops off about Nicky trying to flee, so her family are blaming her for the fact he's dead. I think she probably knows more.'

'That doesn't answer the question.'

'Well, if she has evidence of criminality, maybe it could send Vicenzo and Antonio to jail. Maybe the whole load of them. This could be an Al Capone situation.'

'So...?'

'So I bring her back to Vegas and get her to the cops.'

'That's pretty dangerous.'

'Only if they catch us and torture us and kills us and stuff.'

'That doesn't make it seem less dangerous.'

'I know. Fuck it. Are you ready?'

'As ready as I'll ever be.'

THE EXECUTION

Dorling watched as Peabody descended the stairs at the back of his apartment block and made his way along the road. His attention switched to the black sedan, and he was relieved when it moved off, following Peabody slowly. He pulled Marvin's cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number.

'Da.'

'Vitaly, it's me.'

'The plan is in action?'

'It's on. Peabody is on his way now. He's going to walk to the shake shack. When he gets in there he's going to take off the cap and glasses so they know that he's not me. Make sure you're there to protect him.'

'No problem, I am already sitting inside.'

'My man. You know what to do next?'

'Yes. I have plane ticket. I will take Peabody to safe house at the Luxor and then I will join you in Cancun.'

'And make sure they don't follow you.'

'I will make sure.'

'See you in a couple of days big guy.'

'Do svidaniya.'

MEXICO (aka THE SPANNER IN THE WORKS)

Cancun, Mexico. Julio Sierra's Gym. April 11th. 1700hrs.

Dorling hit the bag with a roundhouse kick, then a right jab, then a left hook, each time hitting it harder, and harder, and harder.

'Good, good! Imagine. Imagine that the bag is Connolly. Imagine you are fighting for Gold.'

Vitaly, holding the bag, gave Dorling more encouragement as the hits kept on coming for another 30 seconds, before he brought it to a close with a head height double footed dropkick. Vitaly threw the bag to the floor.

'It's not ideal, is it?'

'You complaining again, Englishman?'

'I think anybody would rather be at their home gym when getting ready for the biggest pay per view of the year.'

'You could be, but you get involved with lady again.'

'I'm not really involved with her.'

'We are in Mexico. Week before Wrestle Wars. Not for you. Not for me. For her.'

'Fine, when you put it that way, I guess it does look a little like I'm involved. But don't forget, Santoro has Katy. If we don't find April and get this thing done right, we're all gonna be stone cold dead.'

'My favourite kind of stone cold is not dead – it's drunk.'

'Tell me something I don't know. But look, I've gotta get work in man, I've gotta double down here. Connolly is champ for a reason.'

'He's not so big.'

'It's not all about size, just because you're a fucking giant. Look at this guy, he's a WGWF veteran. He has the C4, he has the Fade to Black, he has the Double Shot.'

'He has The Cemented Legacy.'

'Yeah, he has that too. But look, this is the same shit that I've dealt with before. I'm smaller. I'm lighter.'

'You are quicker. You move fast. You hit...hard.'

'I hit hard? You've never admitted that before.'

'Now seems like appropriate moment.'

'Why now?'

Vitaly motioned behind Dorling, at the entrance to the gym. Dorling turned around to see three suited men standing quietly. The man in the centre was impossible to mistake. Antonio Santoro.

'Hello, Mr Dorling.'

'Well hello to you too. I see you've managed to find us.'

Dorling shot a glare at Vitaly.

'He is mafia, he is probably good at following people.'

Santoro grinned.

'Yes, I am good at following people, though a seven-foot-tall, bald Russian is not hard to keep track of.'

Dorling shook his head.

'He is distinctive.'

'Yes, he is. And so are you. That is your downfall. It was not wise for April to come to Mexico, or for you to follow her.'

'Wait a minute, you followed us, didn't you?'

'I don't see what you're getting at Mr Dorling.'

'You don't have her, do you?'

'We do.'

'Prove it.'

'We do not need to prove anything to you. We came here to do a job; a job that we could not do in Las Vegas because we are watched. You have to know, April was very sorry about what she has done, but you now know too much and we must take steps.'

'Woah woah woah. She's sorry about what she's done? Are you trying to tell me that she's double crossed me? Do you expect me to believe that?'

'Blood is thicker than water, Mr Dorling.'

'Half-blood pal, half-blood.'

'Enough with your joking and playing around.'

'Oh I'm not playing around here, Mr Santoro. You've got the ability and, apparently, the desire to hurt two people that I would rather you didn't. That means I am most certainly not playing.'

'And neither am I.'

All three men reached into their jacket pockets and pulled out a pistol, aiming them at Dorling and Vitaly.

'Oh I see, you're going to kill us.'

Vitaly looked at Dorling confusedly.

'This was not clear to you already?'

'Shut up.'

Santoro coughed, impatiently.

'This is where you see in stupid movies that I ask for your last words.'

'I don't have any prepared.'

'You have spoken enough, Mr Dorling.'

'My mum always...'

'ENOUGH!'

The three men raised their weapons just as a large shadow formed behind them. One of them turned and let out a scream as a school bus came smashing through the wall. The sound of grinding metal filled the gym as dust and debris fell. As it cleared, Dorling could see that 2 of the men had disappeared beneath the rubble, while Santoro was laid out in front of the large, yellow vehicle. He was out cold and had a bloody face. He looked up to the cab of the bus and sitting behind the wheel was none other than Marvin Peabody.

'Peabody? God damn man, that was awesome!'

'It was her idea.'

He nodded to the door as it slid open, and April hopped down. She looked at Dorling.

'Have you been kissing other girls on television?!'

'You want to do this now?'

She smiled and gestured for him to climb the steps behind him.

'Get on the damned bus.'

THE OTHER PLAN

Cancun, Mexico. School Bus, Highway 180. 1030HRS.

Dorling sat up on the back seat of the bus. April was slumped alongside him. Vitaly was outside, swigging from a bottle of – vodka? FFS – and Marvin was looking through his phone on a seat near the front. He looked around him. The sun was burning a hole in the sky, another baking day in the Mexican heat. The bus was hidden behind some bushes and they had managed to get some sleep overnight, after a frantic drive through Cancun and a roundabout route in an effort to make sure that they were not followed. There had been little discussion as to what would happen next; the atmosphere had been one primarily of relief. Yes, Dorling talked a good game but it's not often you get a gun pointed at your face. The Russian, of course, had taken it in his stride. Bouncing outside night clubs and protecting politicians back in the Motherland had given him plenty of up close experience with weaponry. Hell, he even had a scar on his right shoulder where a bullet had grazed him during a political assassination attempt.

Peabody, however, looked shaken. Dorling had no idea he had any of this in him. He was a meek looking former backstage reporter for Christ's sake. Frankly, Dorling was impressed. He looked down to his right where April was stirring. She had covered herself with her leather jacket and looked remarkably peaceful despite the chaos of it all. He guessed that she might have had to deal with some pretty 'interesting' stuff in the past, given the nature of her family. He could understand why she hadn't told him sooner about who exactly she was and who her family were but wished that she had. She sat up beside him and blew a few strands of her auburn hair from her face. She looked at him, and he could sense an affection in the look that he had not seen from her before, almost as if she was now able to show him more clearly how she felt now that her skeletons were out of the closet. It was a small moment of happy clarity in a situation which, as soon as he snapped back to reality, was far from ideal and potentially now lethally dangerous and not just for the four of them – Katy was still held captive by Vicenzo Santoro back in Las Vegas and if word had got to him about what had happened with Antonio in the gym, she could be in a very bad spot. She placed her hand on his.

'Thanks for coming.'

'Like I wouldn't. You should know, your father has Katy.'

'Oh shit. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault.'

'No, this is his fault. Antonio's fault. It's all on them and they're going to pay for it.'

'I hope so.'

Dorling raised an eyebrow.

'So, erm, any idea exactly how we're going to make them pay for it? I had my own theory about why you came down here and I hope it's true.'

'What was it?'

'That you tipped off the cops about Nicky trying to leave Vegas.'

'I did. He was a little fucking monster. He did things, horrible things.'

'I hoped that you had more, maybe something we could use to get your father out of the equation too.'

'I do.'

She pulled a USB stick from her jeans pocket.

'I have this. There's a copy back in Vegas too. It has details of all of my father's money laundering and CCTV photos from his office of a couple of guys that the cops are looking for. They're not going to find them alive, but if they see this they'll see how they died.'

'Holy shit.'

'Yeah. I know. I was on my way to meet a contact I had made at the FBI. It took me a long time to do it because I had to be sure that the contact wasn't in my father's pocket. I saw him. I was on my way to meet him. Just outside Vegas, in a quarry on the south east side.'

'Shit, I know that place.'

'Well, I got about 300 yards away and he went down. Someone shot him. I turned the car around and drove away as fast as I could.'

'Jesus Christ.'

'I didn't even notice until I got outside of the city, there were bullet holes in the rear window and through the passenger seat.'

'They were going to kill you?'

'I don't know. I think maybe they wanted me to stop. I guess they need to get this information from me and put it somewhere safe.'

'Well fuck that. We're taking these shits down.'

'I think we can. My contact, he gave me the name of somebody I can trust. My room-mate, I left her a note.'

'I know, she came to see me. That's why I'm here. She didn't mention the FBI.'

'I didn't want her to.'

'You didn't know if you could trust me?'

'No! It wasn't that? I thought that my father would have you followed, and that maybe you would lead them to another contact.'

'You don't think your room-mate is being followed?'

'I know she is, that's why I left her very specific instructions. I had her go all over town, to throw them off the scent.'

'Clever. So what now?'

'We need to get back to Vegas.'

'But your half-brother back there said that they had men at the airport.'

'They do.'

'So how are we getting out of here?'

'Your friend Marvin has kind of sorted that out for us.'

'Really?'

About 40 miles East of Coatzacoalcos, Highway 180, Mexico. April 12th, 2245HRs

Marvin Fucking Peabody. That guy. Turns out he might be a bit of a bloody genius. Dorling grinned to himself as he cruised along the highway behind the wheel of the school bus. April was asleep a few seats back. Vitaly was on the back seat, stretched out with his shirt covering his face. Peabody was looking at his phone again. Probably finalising plans.

See, Peabody had remembered something even Dorling hadn't. Contacts. SCW contacts. When they put on the biggest PPV in history down in Cancun, Dorling had himself been indisposed, captured by the Sinistry before being forced into hiding. So it had fallen on some of the SCW support staff to help his old friend Panikos arrange mundane things like haulage and transportation. Logistics. And it just so turned out, that at an airfield in Toluca, just west of Mexico City, there remained a plane. A learjet. Adorned with SCW corporate colours and left there after the liquidation of the company. Everybody had forgotten about it – it was in the wrong country, and the Mexicans had been a bit 'loose' with the paperwork. Peabody remembered though, and he'd found out that it had been used semi regularly by local businessmen, hired out by the airfield facility in lieu of not receiving any money to house it there anymore. That kind of shit wouldn't fly in the States but they take a more pragmatic approach to regulations in Mexico City.

So Peabody called the airfield, offered up some cash and had secured a pilot and a flight back to the States. Not Vegas though – rocking up in an SCW jet might attract some attention, so they would fly into Los Angeles and drive back.

Absolute genius.

And what of the plan from there? Well, April had explained what came next. If her room-mate had achieved what they had set out to, the FBI would be waiting for them at a location just outside Vegas. The only complication was that once the meeting had been set, there was no further way of getting further information to them – which meant one possible issue. The FBI didn't know that Katy had been abducted or where she was.

Taking a moment to be selfish, Dorling also thought about what was due to be happening in Atlanta in just four days' time – Connolly and Wrestle Wars. He had not forgotten about that, not in the slightest.

In fact, the drive up to this point had given him, for the first time in a few days, the opportunity to think a bit more clearly about his opponent.

The great Christian Connolly. The Intercontinental champion. A former GM, no less. He saw a lot of parallels with himself in Connolly. A man that tried not to get involved in too much shit and do the job. A man that was not always successful in that aim. A strong competitor. A worthy opponent. A man not to be taken lightly.

But he wondered – how much respect did he get from the WGWF locker room? Had he earned it yet? Had he made his position perfectly clear or not? Yes, he had just defeated a multi time champion and hall of famer. Would the interference from Andy Johnson Page sully that victory at all? Who knew?

At the end of the day, who fucking cared? Connolly had every reason to be confident but, dammit, if he – for even one second – doubted the Dorling shaped shitstorm heading his way he was gonna find himself pinned to the mat faster than he could blink.

Just had to get back to Vegas, aid the FBI in capturing a mob boss thus securing the safety of one of his oldest friends and the future of a girl he was starting to like first. Child's play, right?

He looked in the rear-view mirror. Dammit where had this girl come from? Why did he always end up in situations like this? He glanced towards Vitaly. Still sleeping, bottle of – yes, vodka FFS – rolling back and forth on the floor of the bus beside him. He was glad the big brute was here. He was a pain in the arse, a caustic, deadpan, unpredictable motherfucker but he was glad he was on his side and not against him.

He glanced up at the road signs. Rest stop in 20 miles. Good, he needed to sleep. Peabody was up to drive next. Vitaly, for obvious reasons, was not in the driving rotation. 10 hours to Toluca.

HOME (and the tale of the missing mob boss)

Warehouse, off Kyle Canyon Road, West of Las Vegas, Nevada. April 13th, 1530HRS.

Dorling sat impatiently on the bench, the large warehouse like a cavern around him. In front of him, April was in discussions with a female FBI agent. To his right, Peabody was stretched out and asleep on the same bench, his work done. Dorling was impressed with the guy – where did he get all of this from? This was not the Marvin Peabody he remembered, and even if this went wrong he would be grateful to him forever.

Vitaly, meanwhile, was standing behind the bench, alongside a fleet of blacked out FBI SUVs. He was holding a shotgun and talking to one of the FBI agents, who was decked out in full tactical gear. Dorling was nervous, but there was small reassurance in the fact that the agents looked calm – relaxed even. They were professionals after all.

He looked up as April finished talking to the female agent and slumped down into a chair. Dorling got up and walked over, the agent nodding to him.

'Mr Dorling.'

'Agent Esparza.'

Esparza was tall, 5'10'' at least, and her long black hair curled as it reached her shoulders. Her latino complexion and dark eyes were distinctive and striking.

'So, what's the plan?'

'Well, we've been tailing Santoro for a few weeks now, ever since April made initial contact.'

'So you know where Katy is?'

'We believe so; Santoro has been coming and going from a scrapyard outside the city – a place where we believe he has Miss Calloway held, and some significant evidence in relation to the crimes April has told us about. We've looked at the USB stick in depth and believe there are bodies out there.'

Dorling felt himself go pale.

'Don't worry Mr Dorling, we believe that Miss Calloway is alive and well. In fact, we're banking on it.'

'Has there been any sign of Antonio Santoro?'

'Not recently; we've been watching all of the Santoro properties and there has been no sign of him since your reported altercation with him in Cancun. We're hoping that Vincenzo is awaiting both yours and April's return.'

'I'm hoping so too. How is this going to play out?'

'We've got three SUVs over there and a team of 12. We're going to wait until dusk and head into the scrapyard and take it, releasing Miss Calloway and taking Vincenzo Santoro and his colleagues to jail.'

'Sounds like a perfect plan. Where will I be during all of this?'

'Ideally, nowhere near, but there may be some benefit to having April near, so she will be in the backup vehicle with yourself and agent Mahoney. You'll wait outside the compound and we'll call you in when everything is done.'

'Ok. Let's do this.'

Dorling waited, and waited, and waited. It seemed like forever, but eventually the time came. Dorling sat in the back seat of the FBI SUV with April holding his hand tight and Vitaly & Peabody disappearing into the distance. The convoy of 4 vehicles drove across the city and out to the East, leaving the highway and heading along a dusty track, before pulling over. Ahead of them, Dorling saw Agent Esparza exiting her vehicle and walking up alongside them. She tapped on the window and April rolled it down.

'Ok April, we're about ready to go in. Stay here with Agent Mahoney and this will all be over soon.'

April grinned, but was unable to find any words. Dorling and Esparza exchanged a look, and she was gone. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, and as the tail lights of the SUVs ahead of them disappeared, April turned to him.

'You must be impatient for this to be over. You can get your friend back, get back to your wrestling and I'll be long gone.'

'Where are you gonna go?'

'Does it matter?'

'Of course it does. I don't want you to go anywhere, unless you're desperate to leave.'

'I just...I've done nothing but disrupt your life. Nothing but create problems for you and your friends.'

'You've certainly made it a little more interesting.'

'I'm being serious.'

'So am I! I'll have to tell you the story about me burning down a church to escape a mad man sometime. This kind of thing seems to happen to me every few years!'

'I...really? What do you think happens next for us?'

'Well, who knows? I mean we...'

Agent Mahoney turned around and put his finger to his lips.

'You guys, get down. We've got company.'

Dorling looked behind him briefly and saw the headlights of a car coming up the track behind them. He ducked down as instructed and April did the same. Mahoney looked in the rear view, adjusting it as he did so. He frowned. Dorling looked upward.

'Everything ok?'

'You guys stay here.'

Mahoney exited the SUV and drew his sidearm. The car was stopped about 100 yards behind them, headlights glaring. Dorling looked at April.

'I don't like this.'

She looked at him, concerned, as he crawled into the front seat. As he did so, a shot rang out from behind them, and a cloud of dust was created as the car behind them buried the throttle. Dorling glanced to his left as the vehicle slid past. He got enough of a look to see that it was Antonio Santoro.

'Shit, that was Antonio fucking Santoro.'

He turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine. He looked back at April, almost asking for permission. She nodded and he dropped the clutched, engaged gear and slammed the accelerator to the floor. The SUV lurched slightly to the side as it shot forward, beginning the pursuit.

'Do you have any idea what you're going to do if we catch him?'

Dorling forced a smile.

'Nope!'

He could see the tail lights of the Sedan up ahead, piercing the dust cloud that trailed it. The scrapyard was visible in the distance, large floodlights illuminating the yard. Dorling could see that Antonio was going to reach the yard before them – the agents would not be ready, Katy would be in danger. He glanced at April.

'This is going to get bumpy!'

Taking advantage of the SUVs better off road ability, he swung the vehicle to the right and started to cut across the desert terrain.

'This had better work Dorling!'

'I think now is the time to cross your fingers and toes!'

The SUV bounced and swerved as Dorling gave it everything he could, the scrapyard growing larger and larger as they approached. He would only have one chance at this. He lined up for the entrance and looked at the Sedan. He grabbed his seatbelt and buckled up, instructing April to do the same. He pointed at gate, putting himself on a collision course with Antonio.

'HERE WE GO!'

The SUV sped forward, and just before re-joining the dirt track it hit a bump, launched into the air and struck the Sedan square on the side. Both vehicles were immediately sent into a violent spin, dust and dirt flying everywhere. It seemed like slow motion to Dorling as the vehicles spun to a stop. The blinkers of the SUV were on, strobing against the settling dust. Dorling peered over the steering wheel. Ahead of him, he could see Antonio slumped over the wheel of the Sedan. In the back seat, April stirred and looked up at him.

'Go.'

He swung the door open and removed his seatbelt. Sprinting towards the Sedan he could see Antonio stirring, but he reached the door in time and swung his left fist, catching Santoro square on the jaw and returning him to his former position, slumped over the wheel. He reached in and grabbed the pistol sitting on the passenger seat and gave the thumbs up to April. As he did so, 2 FBI agents came running out of the entrance to the scrapyard, semi-automatic rifles raised. Dorling threw Antonio's pistol to the desert floor and held his arms up.

'It's ok boys, it's been taken care of!'

The agents approached and looked past Dorling into the car. One of them lowered his face mask.

'You can put your hands down Mr Dorling.'

'You find Katy?'

'Miss Calloway is safe and well, and everybody here has been arrested.'

One hour later and Dorling was sitting back in the warehouse, his arm around Katy. April was once again talking to Agent Esparza, trying her best not to be concerned that, although everybody in the scrapyard had been detained, her father was not among them. Vitaly was somewhere outside with a cigar, while Marvin was on his cell phone, organising a flight to Atlanta for everyone. After all, Wrestle Wars was on the horizon.

'You're coming to Atlanta right? I don't want you out of my sight for a while.'

Katy looked up at him.

'I can deal with that. Is April coming too?'

'Yeah, she's coming. You cool with that?'

'None of this is her fault. It's probably best if we stick together for a little while.'

Dorling smiled.

'You're probably right.'

ATLANTA

Clark University, Atlanta. April 14th, 1900HRS.

Dorling climbed out of the cab and was greeted by a University employee named Warrick.

'Hey man, welcome to Clark University Campus!'

'Thanks for having me, I'm excited to use your facility to send my message to Christian Connolly. I've heard great things.'

Katy, April, Vitaly and Marvin stepped out of the cab behind them, and followed as they walked up the steps into the main building.

'So, Mr Dorling, the media suite has been prepped for you as requested. The screens are in an arc behind the stage and the footage you provided of your matches in WGWF has been loaded on to the system to loop behind you as you talk. We have two cameras and to camera men are on their way.'

'I'm sure it will all be excellent, Warrick.'

Warrick led them up some stairs on to a mezzanine level. Beneath them, a series of breakout areas saw pockets of students, excitedly chatting to one another. A sign above them read 'media suite' and Warrick took a turn to his left, opening some double doors into a reception area. Behind the desk that sat ahead of them were 4 doors, with signs naming them as studios 1-4.

'We're in studio 4.'

'Cool.'

Warrick opened the door, passing into an airlock like area, before opening a second door. He stepped out ahead of the group. He turned to speak to them but from his left an arm struck him across the face and he spun violently, hitting the floor. Out of the shadows stepped Vincenzo Santoro, pistol in hand. He glared intently at Dorling, momentarily re-directing his gaze to April, standing just behind him.

'You son of a bitch, you and that little fucking whore have taken EVERYTHING FROM ME!'

'You have got to be fucking kidding me. You had a chance to get away man, leave the country, be free. But you stayed; for what? For a chance of revenge? For a chance to kill your own daughter?'

'Oh make no mistake I'm gonna put you down first you piece of shit.'

'Why don't you just try it you...'

But he did not. The sound of smashing glass immediately preceeded Vincenzo Santoro falling to the floor. Dorling looked down at him, shards of glass around his head – fragments of a vodka bottle. Dorling turned around to see Vitaly, looking a bit pleased with himself.

'Old man talk too much. Bored of mafia shit.'

Dorling raised an eyebrow and nodded.

'Fair enough big man, fair enough.'

The cops came. Santoro went. Warrick went to the ER. The camera operators arrived. Everyone settled down. Dorling stood, in front of screens of his achievements, playing silently in the background. It was time...

CONNOLLY

'I stand here, Christian Connolly. I stand here, surrounded by what you know of me, what you've seen of me. I look to me left and right, and I see what you have seen. The ascent of Dorling in WGWF. The reincarnation of a career that was possibly over. To you, this is new. To you, this is different.

To me. This. Is. Business.

It's what I do and while you may be wondering what the hell is going on, wondering how this guy you've never heard of has turned up in your federation and laid waste to everyone put before him, wondering how a man so fresh and so new has put a target on your back and got relentlessly closer to you, I'm sitting comfortably knowing that this was the plan from the beginning.

You are the plan.

The Intercontinental Championship resting around MY waist is the plan.

And let me tell you something Christian, I don't like my plans to go astray. And this weekend, I find myself a mixture between relieved, happy, pissed off and surging with adrenaline. Not for the first time, someone has come along and tried to fuck everything up for me, and not for the first time I have risen above and THAT momentum is what I will be taking into Wrestlewars.

I look at this place a lot like the mafia. The organised fucking crime gang who tried to use their vast resources to put me in my place. This place. This fucking place. WGWF tries to be a closed shop and people like Paul Frost, people like the Royal Family try to keep the keys to the kingdom and don't want others to play.

Don't get me wrong. I know you're no Chris Page, no Alyce Starchylde. You're not some snooty, demagogic little gatekeeper trying to keep me in my place. You never know, outside of what is about to happen between us in Atlanta, we could be allies. But right now, you are a hurdle that I'm getting ready to jump, because while you are not the Royal Family or Adam Barker or Paul Frost, you hold something I could use as a key. The Intercontinental Championship gives me a voice that nobody can ignore. You don't brush off someone that holds a title with such distinction, and while I think you carry yourself as a champion well, you don't seem to have the desire to turn WGWF into your fucking house like I do.

You see, I don't want to be JUST Intercontinental Champion, I want to be everything. I want to be everyone. I will not rest until I do what has to be done to turn WGWF into WDWF.

So while I respect your athletic ability, your integrity, your past, your character, your achievements, I have to throw respect out of the window. I'm happy to respect you before the match. I'm happy to respect you afterwards. In the ring though, I'm gonna respect myself and what I want.

I already told Chris Page how dangerous it is to face a man that wants, rather than a man that needs. Despite everything that is going on, despite everything that has happened to me, I am laser focussed and come WrestleWars, that laser is pointing firmly at you.

I hold no malice in my heart for you, Christian, but I'm going to exercise my demons all over that ring on Monday and at the end of the day that doesn't end well for you. The time on your reign is up, and that's no poor reflection of you, it's just an excellent reflection of me.

We wrestle.

We go to war.

See you in the ring, Mr Connolly. Bring your best and we will steal this show.

Honestly. I look forward to it.