PROMO: Things To Do In Beijing When You're Dead

[Toxxic 0]

Beijing International Airport

 

 

 

 

“Hey! Zyon!”

 

Quite a lot of people shout Zyon’s name. Technicians, fans, Joe Peters, even other wrestlers on occasion. However, on this occasion Zyon knows exactly who he’s going to see before he turns around. And, sure enough, hurrying towards him down the corridor, is an Englishman with chin-length black hair.

 

“Michael,” the Unique Youth nods. He’s never spoken to the former Toxxic before, and past Stephens’ shoulder he can see Amy and the hulking shape of Sean Davis… and suddenly an awful suspicion crystallises, “hey, if this was about that time I walked in on your sister in the girl’s bathroom-”

 

“Say what?” Stephens says, his train of thought clearly derailed.

 

“Uh… never mind.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Michael Stephens says, running his hand through his hair. If Zyon didn’t know better, he might almost have thought that the (marginally) older wrestler was looking slightly shamefaced. “Look, Zyon, I saw your match against Landon on Storm…”

 

“Looking for some tips?” Zyon asks. Stephens stares at him for a moment, expression not changing, then he nods slowly.

 

“Well, we can all keep learning,” he says noncommittally, “but what I wanted to say was… well done, first off.”

 

“Thanks,” Zyon says, shifting his bag from one hand to the other.

 

“Second,” Stephens continues, “you’ve probably heard that Joe Peters has made me vs. Landon for the World Title.”

 

“Yeah, I heard that,” the Unique Youth confirms.

 

“And given that you beat Landon in his first match since winning that title, and I’ve beaten an old friend of mine and gone to a non-contest in a handicap tag match, you’re probably wondering why I get the title shot and not you,” Stephens says, looking a bit uncomfortable.

 

“You know what? That had crossed my mind,” Zyon agrees.

 

“How about if I told you that I asked for it on the basis that I’m desperately hoping Landon will start concentrating more on retaining his title, and less on breaking my neck?”

 

That catches Zyon off-guard. He never really had much interaction with Toxxic back when he was Toxxic, but along with most people at that time, he’d always assumed that Michael Stephens’ self-confidence was the sort of thing you could use as a crowbar, or maybe a battering ram; absolutely rock-solid, unquestionable and a simple fact of life. Looking into the grey eyes now, Zak Owens can see that maybe things aren’t always as they seem.

 

“…guess I didn’t think of it like that.”

 

“Look, Zyon, you’re a good bloke,” Mike says, “and you’re a bloody good wrestler as well, from what I’ve seen. I mean you’ve beaten Landon, you beat Amy in a hardcore match-”

 

“Non-title as well,” Zyon says, “and then Spike goes and wins the belt by breaking a statue over Manson’s head. Bitter? Me?” He pats his bag with the Cruiserweight Title in and cocks his head to one side, considering. “Well… maybe a little.”

 

“Oh God, Spike,” Stephens says, rubbing his eyes, “that bloody idiot… I mean Landon… I deny all responsibility for Landon,” he says firmly, looking up at Zyon again, “all the shit he’s pulled since I was away… it’s like he went from goofball to psycho and blamed it all on me. But Spike, yeah, that I’ve gotta take some responsibility for. Little shit wasn’t winning anything before he hooked up with me, then he goes straight-edge and starts making everyone’s lives a misery. And he’s still calling himself the ‘New Straight-Edge Sensation’, right?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Zyon nods.

 

“OK, I’m going to sort him out sometime soon,” Stephens says, seemingly making a mental note, “but look, Zyon… what I basically came to say is, if I beat Landon at 13th Hour, it only seems fair that you get the first shot at me when I’m World Champion again.”

 

“Yeah,” Zyon says, “yeah, I think that seems fair.”

 

“Now I can’t guarantee it‘ll work out like that, cos me and Peters have never really seen eye-to-eye,” Stephens warns, “but trust me, that’s what I’ll be pulling for. Assuming I can still walk after June 11th.” He smiles, briefly. “You’ve got my promise.”

 

“Well, alright then,” Zyon says, smiling slightly in return. “Good luck against David Cross. And Landon.”

 

“Cheers,” Stephens says, although the smile is fading, “good luck in… whatever the hell kind of weird match you’ve got. With the tanks, and things…”

 

“Yeah,” Zyon says, shouldering his bag and turning away, “I feel really valued in this company, can’t you tell?”

 

Michael Stephens watches the Unique Youth walk away for a few seconds. Then he turns and heads back to where Amy and Sean Davis are waiting for him, picks up his bag, and goes his own way.