Four Simple Words

Friday night merged into early Saturday morning as Indy Darling paced the hallways of Desert Springs Hospital in Paradise, Nevada. It hadn’t been long after arriving before the doctors were able to confirm that Doc Miyagi had suffered a massive heart attack, and while no longer in immediate danger, he remained unresponsive and in serious condition. As if not being a blood relative was not enough, current precautions within the facility kept Indy far from Doc’s room, leaving him with little else to do but explore the designated waiting area. Having immediately left the arena following his match, Indy remained in his ring gear, and the only personal property in his possession was the X-Factor Championship, whose leather strap dragged across the ground parallel to Indy’s back and forth footsteps.


The recognition he had received as a member of the Project: Honor roster was likely the only thing that kept hospital staff from having him removed from the facilities, along with his stubborn insistence on staying until he had word on his mentor’s condition. The champion was without his clothes, his phone, his wallet, and most importantly, his cigarettes. As the minutes dragged by, he wanted nothing more than to light up a smoke to calm his nerves, although perhaps being able to sit by Doc’s side would have sufficed. The focus of Indy’s eyes was on the floor as he walked around the waiting room, his mind clouded with what-ifs and maybes.

Colton Saint was right

Eventually, the sound of his name being called out drew Indy’s gaze up from the floor to a young man in a Project: Honor polo shirt, staff credentials hanging from a lanyard around his neck. The shaggy-haired man was on the other side of the large waiting area, and seemed desperate to get the attention of hospital staff. From across the room, Indy recognized his duffle bag in the man’s possession.


Gerald the Intern: “I’m looking for Indy Darling...has anyone seen a guy with short reddish-blonde hair wandering around? He’s probably wearing tights. Could anyone help me find Indy Darling?”


As Indy made his way across the room, the intern finally spotted him, and hustled toward the X-Factor Champion with a look of relief.


Gerald the Intern: “Indy! Hey, it’s Gerald from Project: Honor! I’m an intern from Caden Young’s office. He sent me over with your things.”


Indy did not respond to Gerald verbally, instead simply reaching out to grab his bag by its strap.


Gerald the Intern: “So...uh...how’s he doing? Your manager guy, Mr. Miyagi?”


Indy: “It’s Doc Miyagi.”


It was all Indy could manage to say as he tried to process the idea that this intern, this gopher, was all Project: Honor could manage to send. Not only was he some unpaid kid with no clout, he wasn’t even from Callum Walker’s office, let alone Rock Johnson’s. He wasn’t even Caden Young himself, or one of the Assistant General Manager’s close confidants. He was nothing more than a stooge earning a few college credits. Indy gave a quick glance to Gerald before turning his back and disappointingly shaking his head. As far as Indy was concerned, he had nothing to say to someone of the young man’s standing. Gerald, on the other hand, was not so easily deterred.


Gerald the Intern: “So, look, I can give you my cell number in case you need anything, but I really should get back downstairs. I don’t want to miss out on getting an update on Myojin. Mr. Young will kill me if I don’t give him regular updates, what with Myojin headlining the pay-per-view and everything…


Indy’s mind was already back on the condition of his friend and manager, but what Gerald had to say did grab his attention. He turned back toward the intern with a slightly puzzled expression.


Indy: “Myojin? What’s he doing here?”


Gerald the Intern: “Oh...yeah...I guess you had to leave before Proving Ground was over. Colton Saint really did a number on Myojin late in the show. He’s getting checked out, just as a precaution…”


Indy slowly nodded his head in recognition of what he’d been told.


Indy: “Right...Myojin and Colton...the important ones…”


Indy turned away from the intern once again, leaving the young man with a puzzled look of his own.

Gerald the Intern: “I’m sorry...what was that? I didn’t quite hear you…”


Indy: “I said fuck off, Gerald.”


His parting comment came without Indy bothering to face the intern, his focus once again drifting to other matters. Without taking the time to get Gerald’s reaction or witnessing his exit, Indy continued to walk away while unzipping his duffle bag and digging through the contents inside. He managed to find his cell phone, and immediately he knew it would be the right thing to do to keep the competitors and fans of Project: Honor in the loop. He ignored the tweets from his fellow wrestlers and typed out a quick update on Doc Miyagi, asking those concerned to send their thoughts and prayers. While doing so, he couldn’t help but think how those simple actions would be more than anyone in Project: Honor management had done.

Colton Saint was right

After a quick change of clothes, Indy finally stepped outside of the hospital to get his first cigarette in hours. The evening air and rush of nicotine helped to clear his mind, even if his concerns remained uneased. From there it was back to the waiting room, the pacing, and the struggle of not knowing how Doc was doing. When the sun began to rise over Las Vegas, Indy continued to run on a mixture of caffeine and nicotine, with activities like a shower and sleep far from his troubled mind. It wouldn’t be long before the combination of chemical additives and exhaustion began to take their toll, as Indy’s head pounded with every thought and he began to feel a noticeable tremble in his extremities. It was well into the morning hours before he was finally able to speak with a nurse, and after avoiding the typical suggestions of going home for rest or getting something to eat, Indy began to question her about Doc’s condition.


Indy: “Look, I’m not leaving until I know what’s going on. It’s bad enough no one will let me in to see him, but one of the doctors could at least take a few minutes to speak with me.”


Nurse: “Sir, again, I’m sorry. We can’t give out information to anyone that isn't an immediate family member…”


Indy: “He doesn’t have any family! I’ve told you people, I’m the closest thing to family that he has!”


Nurse: “Sir, we’ve already been in touch with his emergency contact, and I assure you , the doctors are doing everything they can for him. We’ve already sent an update to his employers, so you should really talk to them. Either that, or once his family arrives and gives us permission to speak with you, I assure you that...”


The nurse’s reassurance went in one ear and out the other, as Indy slammed his clenched fist against the nearest wall, leaving an indentation and cracked paint in its wake.


Indy: “Goddammit! He doesn’t have any fucking family! I haven’t heard from anyone at Project: Honor since they dropped my bag off! They can’t even be bothered to like a fucking tweet, let alone call me…”


Indy felt the trembling in his limbs intensify as his heart began beating faster and faster. The image of the petite woman in front of him began to blur, and the various sounds one would expect within a hospital pierced his skull like an electric drill.


Nurse: “Sir? Sir, are you okay?”


Thump. Thump. Thump. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, and Indy could not help but wonder if that’s exactly how Doc felt before he lost consciousness. He took a step toward the nurse, unsure in his own mind if he wanted to strangle her out of frustration or grab onto her like a lifeline. The feeling in his legs disappeared as if a magician had made them vanish, and his knees buckled as he struggled to get a word...any word...out of his throat.


Nurse: “Sir? Let me help you to a chair…”


The entire weight of his body was suddenly more than Indy could bear. The floor of the hospital waiting room rushed up to meet him, as if it had become sentient and able to move, for Indy was not consciously aware of his fall. As circles of transparent light began to erupt like fireworks in his peripheral vision, Indy saw the face of the nurse looking down at him. It would be the last thing he saw before darkness overtook him.

Colton Saint was right

The nurse looked down at him like he was helpless, but how else would you expect someone to look upon a twelve-year-old boy that had just lost his father?


Indy had been inconsolable when the paramedics removed Clive Darling from the ring. His cheeks were stained with tears and his throat was raw from screaming for his dad. He was held in place by the massive arms of Grayson Creed, one of the few wrestlers in the business his father considered a friend. Yet even the powerful arms of a trained athlete were not enough to keep Indy from thrashing every part of his body. The boy’s frantic kicking and squirming had prevented Grayson from taking him backstage after Clive’s dive from the scaffold and the referee’s discovery that he was unresponsive. So instead, he did his best to hold onto the child with all his strength as he quietly tried to reassure him.


Everyone in attendance was deathly quiet as paramedics worked on Clive, with the exception of his terrified son. The sounds of their frantic work inside the ring, and young Indy’s shrieks echoed throughout the gymnasium, providing a soundtrack for the tragedy that was transpiring. It wasn’t until they removed Clive from the ring and carried him toward the backstage area that Grayson was able to carry Indy from ringside. By that point, the boy had worn out his own voice, and his defiant screams were nothing more than pathetic whimpers of sorrow.


He rode in the back of the ambulance with his father, unaware that this man who meant everything in the world to him, was no longer among the living. He remained held in the massive arms of Grayson, but while the physically strong wrestler was able to embrace the boy, he was not able to tell him the truth. So instead he listened to Indy’s weak, sobbing pleas for his father to wake up the entirety of the ambulance ride. It was Grayson’s own look of desperation that had caught the nurse’s attention after their arrival to the hospital. Realizing the reality of the situation, she made her way over to the wrestler and the boy in his arms, eventually looking down at young Indy with as much understanding and regret as she could muster.


Nurse: “Oh baby, I am so sorry.”


Her hand was gentle and comforting as she brushed the strands of strawberry-blonde hair from his face, and her kind voice was the first thing that truly registered in his young mind since he had seen his father crash to the canvas.


Nurse: “I know it hurts, baby. I know it does, but you’re daddy is in a better place now. He doesn’t hurt anymore, and all of this torture you’re putting yourself through would only make him sad. You have to understand that he’s gone.”


For a moment, Indy remained perfectly still, and for the first time since grabbing him in his thick arms, Grayson was able to relax his embrace. At that moment, the truth finally dawned upon young Nathaniel Demetrius Darling. It was something he had already known deep down but had refused to accept. His father, the strongest yet most kind man he had ever known, had died.


Young Indy: “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”


He lurched from Grayson’s grip and began to kick at the kindly nurse with both feet before eventually using his fists as well. There was no way for Indy to know how many blows he landed on the innocent woman before he was locked in Grayson’s arms once again, and the woman’s off-balance tumble to the hospital floor did not administer one ounce of guilt into the grief-stricken boy.


Hours later, after he had managed to calm down while his young mind cycled through a jumble of emotions, Indy would personally apologize for treating the nurse in such a vicious and uncaring fashion. Her response was something that had stayed with him every day since.


Nurse: “Just be glad your father wasn’t alive to see that. He would have been ashamed.”


That nurse was a real bitch.







Nurse: “What did you call me?”


Indy struggled to pry his eyelids open through sheer force of will, oblivious as to where he was or how long he had been unconscious. Even in this confused state, his concern for Doc Miyagi began to resurface, and Indy shot up from his prone position in the hospital bed as if it were on fire.


Nurse: “Whoa! Take it easy!”


The very nurse who had witnessed his descent into darkness was standing at his bedside, making a routine check of his vitals when he began to regain consciousness. In a desperate attempt to keep him from panicking or accidentally ripping the IV from his hand, she firmly grasped his shoulders with both hands.


Nurse: “Just relax, you’re okay. Although I could’ve sworn you were calling me a very rude name just before you woke up.”


Indy squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sterile white walls of the ER room, and finally coming to grips with his surroundings, he accepted the nurse’s gentle urging to lean back against the bed.


Indy: “Sorry...I was...I think I was having a bad dream…”


Nurse: “Well, I guess I won’t hold it against you then.”


She gave him a friendly wink to accompany the response, as her hands left his shoulders and went back toward the bag of saline fluid hanging beside his bed.


Indy: “How’s my dad? That is...I mean...how’s my manager? Doc Miyagi? The old Asian man that came in from the wrestling show...he had a heart attack…”


Nurse: “I know who he is, and you don’t need to worry. He hasn’t woken up yet, but he’s in stable condition. Right now, we need to save a little bit of that concern for you.”


Indy: “I’m fine...really. It was just a little black-out…”


Nurse: “That’s one way of putting it. You’ve been out for four hours. You were severely dehydrated and suffering from exhaustion. Doing that to yourself is no way to help your friend.”


Indy took a deep breath and tried to accept the fact that he had been sleeping that long. He couldn’t help but feel bad for treating the nurse so harshly before he passed out, especially since she was now responsible for his well-being.


Indy: “I’m feeling much better, I swear. I don’t think I need (Indy gestured to the room around them) all of this.”


Nurse: “You just missed the doctor, and he had a similar opinion. I’m just glad it’s been a slow morning or they would have either pushed to admit you or send you packing. Just let me finish checking you out and we’ll get that IV unhooked. That is, if you promise to take care of yourself and let the professionals worry about your friend.”


Indy: “Yeah, well, it’s not that easy. Doc doesn’t have any family. I’m the only one he’s got.”


As the nurse began to remove the needle from the back of Indy’s hand, she cocked an eyebrow to give him a surprised glance.


Nurse: “Is that so? I’m guessing his daughter might feel differently…”


It was a comment that Indy almost ignored, until the weight of meaning behind it literally made him sit up and take notice. The comment also caught him off guard enough to prevent him from immediately replying.


Nurse: “For someone who doesn’t know she exists, she seems awfully interested in talking to you. Once we get finished up here, I’ll take you to his room. I’m sure she’s still there.”


After the unavoidable paperwork that goes with a hospital visit, whether intentional or not, Indy was able to find his footing, relieved that the uneasy feeling in his limbs was a thing of the past. He was still in desperate need of a shower and a hot meal, but he knew those things would have to wait until he personally solved the mystery of the daughter Doc had failed to mention over the past dozen or so years. With his gym bag slung over his shoulder, he followed the nurse back to ICU, where Doc had been since arriving at the hospital.


As they approached his door, Indy immediately took notice of the young Asian woman seated in the hallway. She had long dark hair, her bangs pulled behind her head in a ponytail. If she was some relation to Doc Miyagi, it didn’t show in the way she chose to dress, her conservative skirt and blouse falling somewhere within the range of what Indy would consider business casual. If there was any similarity between the woman and Doc at all, it was in their petite frames, although Indy attempted not to focus on her figure too long, for fear of coming off as creepy. If the woman really was Doc Miyagi’s daughter, the last thing Indy wanted to do was come off like a thirsty relative of John Nash Strader.


Nurse: “Here we are. I’ll leave you two to discuss things, but please Mr. Darling, try to take care of yourself from now on.”


Indy gave the nurse a brief nod and slight smile before turning back to face the young woman. She rose from her seat as the nurse began to walk away, and somewhat timidly extended her hand in Indy’s direction.


Meg: “I’m Megumi Yamamoto. You can call me Meg. I’m Benjiro’s daughter.”


Indy took her hand in his own, giving it a gentle shake while being careful not to squeeze it as hard as he would when meeting someone in the wrestling business. While doing so, he had to mentally tell himself that Doc’s real name was Benjiro Yamamoto, although he had been in the wrestling business for so long that he rarely used it or even acknowledged it.


Indy: “I’m Indy Darling, and that’s not just good enough, it's better than...I mean...that is good enough...but you don’t have to call me that. I’m Nathaniel, that is, when I’m not wrestling my name is Nathaniel. Nate (Indy took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to calm himself). Please, you can call me Nate.”


Meg gave Indy an awkward smile as he continued to shake her hand, having now done so longer than would be socially acceptable by most.


Indy: “I didn’t know that Doc...that is Benjiro...Ben, I guess...I didn’t know that he had a daughter. That’s not to say he's ashamed of you or anything, because I can’t imagine anyone being ashamed of you. Not that I know you, of course, which is the point I’m trying to get at. That I don’t know you…”


It took Meg glancing at her hand for Indy to finally stop shaking it, as he internally questioned whether or not he had suffered cognitive damage during his blackout. Either that, or he had become far too unfamiliar with speaking to someone of the opposite sex away from the confines of the wrestling business.


Meg: “I wouldn’t be surprised if he never mentioned me. Things between him and my mother were...strained. I spent most of my life believing that he wanted nothing to do with me, until my mother became ill last month and admitted that she had actively kept him away. So please, there’s no need to feel awkward about this. It’s as strange for me as it is for you.”


Indy felt a slight internal wave of relief, knowing that his awkwardness could be blamed on the unusual circumstances surrounding their meeting.


Meg: “The doctors were somewhat vague about what happened. I was told that you arrived here with him and I was hoping that you could tell me more.”


Indy: “Right...of course. Maybe we could find someplace to talk where we’re out of the way? The hospital cafeteria?”


Meg: “That’s probably a good idea. After you.”


Completely oblivious as to the location of the hospital’s cafeteria, Indy began to walk through the hallways with Meg alongside him, a sudden silence between the two strangers that both were painfully aware of. After navigating a couple of the halls without direction, Indy was fortunate enough to spot a sign providing general directions to their destination. Now having an idea of where he was leading them, Indy took a moment to look over at Meg, giving her a smile that could best be described as sheepish.


A short time later, with a cup of tea in front of Meg and a hearty helping of scrambled eggs alongside Indy’s bottle of Gatorade, the two once again found themselves wondering who should talk first. As he shook a few dabs of hot sauce onto his flavorless hospital breakfast, Indy ultimately broke the silence.


Indy: “Are you sure I can’t get you something to eat? I feel really weird eating in front of you…”


Meg: “No, it’s fine. Thank you.”


Indy: “I haven’t had anything since yesterday afternoon. The last thing I want is to spend more time in the ER.”


Meg: “Really, it’s fine. As long as you don’t mind talking about Benjiro while you’re eating…”


Indy: “Yeah! Of course...Benjiro. He, uh, he’s a really amazing guy, you know. He’s been training me since I was a kid. In a lot of ways we’re the closest thing each other has to family…”


Realizing the inappropriateness of his words as soon as he said them, Indy could think of no other way to stop from talking than to shove a mouthful of eggs and hot sauce into his mouth, right alongside the foot he had just put there.


Meg: “I was hoping to change that. I spent so much of my life resenting him, believing that he wanted nothing to do with me, that it’s been a slow process. We had spoken over the phone a couple of times, but every conversation was strained. I was starting to think it wasn’t worth the effort, until the hospital called me last night. I’ve already lost my mother, I don’t want to lose my father before I’ve even had a chance to know him.”


Indy: “Yeah, I get that. I lost my father when I was young, shortly before I met Doc...Benjiro. Only my mother wasn’t a willing participant in any attempts at reconciliation. Luckily I had your dad, and trust me, he’s the toughest old man I’ve ever known. He’s going to pull through this and you’ll get to know him even better than me.”


Meg kept her eyes from falling on Indy, instead choosing to focus on stirring her cup of tea. It was a gesture that Indy appreciated, as he felt better about shoving eggs into his mouth without a beautiful woman staring at him.


Meg: “Do you know how it happened? What might have caused it?”


Indy held up his index finger as a way to ask for a moment to finish chewing his food, and then washed it down with a few chugs of Gatorade. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Indy thought about the previous night, still trying to process exactly what had happened.


Indy: “I...uh...I was in a match. Doc was watching backstage like he usually does. I guess he got overly excited about what he saw and it was more than he could take. If he had been having any issues before that, he didn’t share them with me.”


Meg: “Well...what is his life like? His diet? His exercise routine?”


Indy: “He usually starts the day with a plate of bacon and whatever beer he has left from the night before. His normal lunch is a double cheeseburger with extra cheese and extra mayo, and then he has a cigar with his six pack of Coors Banquets for dinner. As for exercise, he works out with me in the ring, but that’s usually just him putting me in holds until I can find a way out.”


After a few seconds, Indy became painfully aware of the silence from across the table. He looked up from his eggs, a forkful of them halfway between his plate and his mouth, to see Meg with a horrified look upon her face.


Meg: “That’s...that’s terrible! He’s an old man! He can’t treat his body like that!”


Indy: “Oh, it’s not like I fight back or anything. Once I’m out of a hold he transitions into another one…”


Meg: “Not that! His diet! His drinking and smoking! How can you let him do that to himself?”


Indy slowly lowered his fork back to his plate, and thought about his own low-fat, high-protein diet in comparison to his manager’s. Then, he began to realize that Meg was looking to him for answers, as if he were responsible for Doc’s well-being instead of the other way around. With the realization that she was right, Indy began to feel the burden of guilt well up inside of him.


Indy: “He’s a grown man, I mean...I never really thought that I should be...he’s my trainer, not my father…”


Indy regretted his words as soon as he said them, recognizing that what he had said contradicted his own feelings. Meg, on the other hand, seemed to take his words at face value, as a clear visage of disappointment and dislike began to emerge.


Indy: “Wait...I didn’t mean it exactly like that…”


Meg: “I need you to fly back to Indianapolis. Someone needs to be there to take care of Benjiro’s home, not to mention his cat. I’ll take care of everything here.”


Her response was cold and to the point, making Indy realize that she had taken his words in the worst possible way.


Indy: “I don’t...I don’t want to leave him…”


Meg: “I’m having him transferred closer to my home in California. As soon as the doctors feel that he can be moved safely, he’ll be transported to a facility in Los Angeles. I’ll let you know the details as I get them.”


Indy: “Wait...what? You can’t just…”


Meg: “In this situation I have Benjiro’s power of attorney, so before you start arguing, you need to understand that my decision is final and there is nothing you can do about it. If you want to be of any help whatsoever, you’ll watch over his property in Indianapolis and take care of Fat Sammy.”


Indy: "Who?"


Meg: "...The cat."


Without waiting for his response, Meg rose from her chair, not bothering to finish her warm cup of tea. Forgetting his eggs for the time being, Indy scrambled to his own feet as well.


Indy: “Now, just wait a minute…


It seemed as if Meg had no interest in further conversation as she turned her back on Indy with the intention of making her exit.

Colton Saint was right

Indy: “Wait goddammit! Please...just...please just wait…”


Indy’s tone went from a loud and angry panic to a more gentle and pathetic plea within a matter of syllables, which convinced Meg to turn her attention back toward him.


Indy: “Look...I’m so used to talking to pro wrestlers that I sometimes forget how to talk to real people. I know I made a mess of this, and I swear that wasn’t my intention. I do care about your father, and I’m sure you do as well. I just...I just want him to get better, and if watching over the gym and feeding the cat is what I have to do to make that happen, then I’ll do it. I just don’t want any future conversation between us to be based on me being half-conscious, unshowered, and dehydrated.”


Meg continued to pause, looking at Indy as if she expected him to say more. In return, he did his best to avoid the urge to go into promo-mode and instead began to speak from his heart.


Indy: “Your dad taught me never to give excuses for losing a match, but when it comes to screwing up a conversation with a beautiful woman, I’m going to make every excuse I can think of. Just...just know that your dad isn’t the kind of guy that would waste his time on a bum. I’m a good guy, and maybe I was irresponsible when it came to looking out for your dad, but I swear I’ll do whatever you need me to do in order to make it up to you...to both of you.”


Meg stared at Indy in silence for a few seconds as the nearest cafeteria patrons looked on as if watching a romantic comedy. In Indy’s mind, he imagined Meg rushing towards him where he would catch her in an embrace before they would begin to make out passionately. He also imagined her hitting him with a low blow before giving him a DDT on the tiled hospital floor. In that moment, he accepted the fact that he had very little skill when it came to reading the opposite sex. Finally, Meg broke the silence by engaging in neither of the two scenarios.


Meg: “Thank you. I appreciate your honesty. So please, fly home. Feed the cat.”


Indy nodded in acceptance of the task he had been given as Meg gave him a faint smile before turning away once again. Then, after taking a few steps away from him, she turned back one last time.


Meg: “And a shower couldn’t hurt.”


With that, the conversation was over and the illegitimate daughter of Doctor Dalton Miyagi made her way out of the hospital cafeteria, leaving Indy to finish his eggs and Gatorade as a million questions raced through his head. The first of which, he could not help but quietly verbalize…


Indy: “...Doc has a cat?”







With the exception of an extended search for an alley cat, the remainder of the weekend involved little more than a flight back to Indianapolis, regular updates on Doc, and plenty of rest and recuperation. On Monday, it was back to business. The first thing on Indy’s agenda was to watch what he had missed of Proving Ground. After what he had learned at the hospital, the interaction between Colton and Myojin didn’t come as a surprise, but the plethora of announcements made at the end of the show left the X-Factor Champion with more questions than he had answers.


Two shows. Two rosters. Two championship divisions. It was a lot to process for a guy who already had the weight of the world on his shoulders. No matter his feelings for the management of Project: Honor regarding how they treated Doc’s health scare, he was proud to be a part of a company that was finding so much success. Whether or not they saw him as a piece of that success eluded Indy as much as Fat Sammy the alley cat had done during Indy's first few hours back at Doc’s gym.


Having the man formerly known as Caliban, whom Indy had faced in multiple matches, running one of the two rosters gave him even more cause for concern. His mistrust for current management was bad enough, but having a former rival potentially overseeing his career gave Indy even more reason to make sure he stayed on the Proving Ground roster as X-Factor Champion. As he glanced over at the mangy blonde tomcat laying on the ring apron, Indy silently wished that men like Christian DeMarco could be swayed by a can of tuna as easily as Fat Sammy had been.


With these thoughts and more swimming through the overfilled fishbowl of his mind, Indy wanted nothing more than to put it all aside and get back to training. He had just less than two weeks until his Steel Cage Match against the number one contender, John Nash Strader, and he knew that dwelling on anything beyond that match would do him no favors. Indy synched up some music on his phone to the gym’s sound system, and took one last look at the pathetic ball of fur and attitude lounging on the edge of the ring. Looking as if he had spent the night chasing strays and slurping from a bowl of whiskey, the cat gave Indy an uninterested glance before yawning to show off his one remaining front tooth. Then, as Meg Myers' version of “Running Up That Hill” began to play, Indy rolled under the ropes and turned his focus to thoughts of the steel cage.







Doc Miyagi: “Indy! Goddammit kid! You’ve got to stop!”


The rookie wrestler could no longer hear his manager. He could not hear the referee or the crowd of fans looking on. He heard nothing but the ringing in his ears and the splattering sounds his fists made when they landed against his opponent’s face.


After the referee stopped the fight and Indy was pulled off his opponent by the official and Doc Miyagi, the EMTs on site would enter the cage in order to attend to his fallen opponent. The final diagnosis would be a broken septum, fractured orbital bone, two lost teeth (likely swallowed), a ruptured eardrum, and a concussion. He would require 13 stitches for one of the open cuts on his head and an additional 19 for the other one. One doctor in the Emergency Room would compare it to someone’s face hitting the windshield of their car in the midst of an automobile accident.


Indy Darling and Doc Miyagi would be fined five thousand dollars, find themselves banned from Southern Colorado Pro, and responsible for issuing an apology to So-Co-Pro’s owners, fans, and competitors. It didn’t matter that the cage match had been his opponent’s idea. It didn’t matter that his opponent had spent the previous six months demeaning the name of Indy’s father and using his death as the basis for his promos. It didn’t matter that prior to the match beginning, his opponent lit a picture of Clive Darling and proudly exclaimed over the house mic that the dead wrestler was burning in hell.


All that mattered was that Indy took things too far. It was his first contest inside of a cage since fighting The Mighty Theodore, and just like that match against the bear, he had completely lost control of his emotions. It was the one and only time Doc saw that side of his protégé, although he never admitted to Indy that it scared him enough to nearly end the young man’s training. After that night, if a promoter asked if there were any matches Indy would prefer to avoid, Doc Miyagi always told them that it was the cage match.


Doc knew enough about the business to understand what being confined inside of a cage could do to a man, and his young trainee was no different. Every wrestler in Doc’s day had their demons, and on that night he found out that Indy had them as well. He couldn’t help but worry what might happen if those demons were set free.







Indy: “Colton Saint was right.”


Indy sits on the apron of the training ring in Doc’s gym, not an unfamiliar background when the X-Factor Champion films a promo. On one side of Indy is a bottle of water and his pack of cigarettes, on the other, a fat, pale blonde tom cat curled up beside the Project: Honor X-Factor Championship. In his hands he holds a towel to wipe the sweat from his body, and underneath his sweat-soaked strawberry blonde hair, rests his father’s sunglasses.


Indy: “Four simple words that could mean so many different things to so many different people. Maybe some of you are thinking that you didn’t hear me right, so I’ll repeat myself slowly for those of you in the back of the room.”


“Colton.”


“Saint.”


“Was.”


“Right.”


Indy chooses that moment to fetch a cigarette from his side, taking his time when lighting it up and breathing in his first hit of nicotine. He then returns his focus to the camera as he exhales slowly.


Indy: “Some of you may be wondering how such a good kid like Indy Darling could say such a horrible thing. That’s what happens when you take something out of context. Up until now, I feel like my entire Project: Honor career has been taken out of context. I’ve been misunderstood by management, by the announcers, and by my opponents. In fact, sometimes it feels like the only ones who really get me are the fans. The fans and Colton Saint.”


Indy pauses before taking another drag, and then licks his lips before continuing to speak.


Indy: “Before my match with Colton he decided to warn me about a lot of things. He understood that I was new to the mainstream level of the business, but instead of making that his point of attack, he made it a point to offer advice. In doing so, he warned me about the kind of people I would face. How they are all out for themselves. How they’ll do anything to get ahead, no matter what the consequences might end up being for me. Essentially, he called you all selfish users. Cogs in a machine designed to chew people up and spit them back out. And last Friday Night, I found out that he was right.


Indy flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette before taking a moment to wipe some sweat off his brow.


Indy: “He talked about how companies like Project: Honor couldn’t give a damn about the people on their roster. That they would squeeze every bit of usefulness out of them, milk them for every last dime they could draw, and then take them out back to put a bullet in their head. And once again, Colton Saint was right. Project: Honor is proving him right by doing that very thing to Colton Saint at Unbreakable Resolution, and they’re using his attack on Zane as an excuse to cover up their own selfish desires. Do you really think an egomaniac like Rock Johnson gives two shits about Zane, Myojin, Colton Saint, or me? Please. All he cares about is having enough money to buy his 5th vacation home. The grand announcement at the end of the last Proving Ground should be enough proof of that.”


He takes another drag from his cigarette and looks away from the camera for a few seconds, considering the potential impact his words might have.


Indy: “So yeah, Colton Saint was right. He was proven right when my manager, trainer, and friend suffered a near-fatal heart attack during last week’s Proving Ground. When I sent out a desperate plea for thoughts and prayers and I only received...one...single....response.”


He turns back to look at the camera, his sunglasses obscuring any emotion that may be hiding behind their dark lenses.


Indy: “That response wasn’t from Rock Johnson, Callum Walker, or Caden Young. It wasn’t from Myojin, or Zane, or Dickie Watson. Christian DeMarco? Nope. Trey Booker or James Edgebrook? No way. It certainly wasn’t from Colton Saint. It came from the guy who had just beaten me earlier the night. A real bastard between the ropes and a villain on the mic. Probably the guy that should really be getting an X-Factor Title shot at Unbreakable Resolution. So Mark Hunter, we may not see eye-to-eye on much. We may have drastically different points of view. But as of right now I owe you one. If you want to cash that in with an X-Factor Title shot and I make it out of the pay-per-view as champion, consider it yours for the asking.”


Indy slides his championship belt off the apron to hold it before the camera, disturbing Fat Sammy’s rest and earning himself a look of feline disdain in the process.


Indy: “The rest of you have made one thing perfectly clear. Indy Darling is on his own in Project: Honor as the only guy with any clue as to what honor really means. Irony, meet reality. Now don’t take this the wrong way. Don’t run off to your internet chat rooms and dirt shirt contacts thinking that Indy Darling has made some big heel turn. That’s not what this is about. Colton Saint may have been right about the egomaniacs on Project: Honor’s roster. He may have been right about the power-hungry management, which has just doubled in size by the way. But he wasn’t right about the business itself and the fans who love it.”


Indy slides the belt over his shoulder and takes a moment to pull another drag off his cigarette, the glow of its smoldering end reflected in his sunglasses.


Indy: “The connection I feel when I go into the ring to perform in the sport that I love is the most real thing I’ve ever known. When the fans believe in you, it’s real. When they recognize your hard work and dedication, it’s real. And the fact that the X-Factor Championship is sitting on my shoulder should tell anyone who thinks this business is nothing but a con-job that the blood, sweat, and tears are real. Of course, I’ll call out this business’ fake bullshit when I see it. Which brings me to John...Nash...Strader.”


The champion cocks his first grin of the promo, just smarmy enough to make it clear that he’s openly mocking the number one contender.


Indy: “Here’s a guy who could very well be the luckiest competitor on the roster. He stumbles into matches that no one expects him to win, and yet somehow he finds a way to come out on top. Maybe he pulls a gun, maybe he beats someone on their way out of the company, or maybe he’s in a tag team match where he’s careful to only get in the ring against the weak link. Yet now he finds himself in a one-on-one championship match against me, and that is where his luck finally runs out.”


Indy slides the sunglasses from his face, tucking one of the earpieces behind the collar of his Miyagi’s Gym tank top.


Indy: “You see, John, there seems to be a belief amongst some that you’ve gotten into my head. I’m not exactly sure where that comes from. I mean, you taunt me in our tag match but refuse to fight me. You interfere in my match against Mark Hunter, but you don’t stick around to do any more than run your mouth. You are on the verge of being obsessed with me, yet you’re the one in my head? When’s the last time I showed up in one of your matches? When’s the last time I sent out a tweet talking about you? When have I ever backed down from a fight? With all of those things in mind, just who is in whose head, John?”


He tilts his head slightly to the side, giving the camera a brief puzzled expression.


Indy: “You came into this company obsessed with Colton Saint before moving on to me when he wouldn’t pay you any attention. It makes a guy wonder just how desperate you are to have a male role model in your life that’s worth a damn. Looking at the way you’ve turned out, it’s clear that the Hell’s Angel reject that squirted into your mom wasn’t up to it. So while I appreciate you letting me live in your head rent free, I think it’s time for me to move somewhere nicer. You should appreciate that, considering how much extra space that would make for cheesy pick-up lines, Kimberly Chase pin-ups, and family tree info to keep you from sleeping with one of your six hundred sisters.”


Indy takes one last drag from his cigarette, keeping his eyes locked on the camera lens until he has fully exhaled.


Indy: “Now John and I are finally scheduled to meet, and it’s not only for the Project: Honor X-Factor Championship, but it’s also inside of a steel cage. Wisely, John wanted to be able to escape in order to win, but like I said earlier, I actually believe in the concept of honor. So if he wants to win this championship, he’ll have to pin my shoulders to the mat in order to do it. And it works both ways. I don’t want to defend it by running away. That may be how some people around here think, but I’d rather earn what I have. That’s what you’re going to have to do if you want to be X-Factor Champion, John. You’re gonna have to get on that second-market rip-off of a Harley, get your ass to Denver, step inside of the steel cage, and actually try to back up all of the endless bullshit you’ve been spewing around here for the past two months. If you want to be champion, if you want to take Xavier from around my waist, you’re going to have to do it with just a little bit of honor. Funny how that’s a strange concept considering where we work. Trust me, it’ll be easier said than done.”


The smirk on his face is long gone as he begins to wrap up his promo, taking a few mocking shots at all those who continue to overlook and underestimate him.


Indy: “But he’s such a nice guy...he’s a plucky underdog...he’s just a naïve rookie. I can’t change who I am, and I don’t know if I’d want to even if I could. The fact is, I love being able to make a crowd get on their feet and cheer. I love that all the morally conflicted creeps around this place can’t help but hate me. The fact is, I’m so damn babyface it hurts. And John, it’ll be my pleasure to share just a little bit of that pain with you inside the steel cage. Now that’s an unbreakable resolution to match your unbreakable X-Factor Champion.”


Indy flicks the remains of his cigarette at the camera, and as it bounces off the lens with a flash of sparks, his promo comes to its end.