Post by Finn Whelan on Feb 25, 2017 4:42:52 GMT
It'd been a while since Finn had been familiarized with a loss. Honestly, you can't win every single match, but you can damn well try. At least, that's what they tell kids when they end up failing. "Good job, Timmy, you almost won!" No. Participation medals only create drama queens, and that's what's happening to society. Whelan isn't at all the type to simply say he tried and let bygones be bygones. Was he upset with his loss? Damn straight. But he didn't bitch and moan about it for days on end like some other privileged fucks would. It was immediate acceptance, and then instant strategizing. He'd learned a long time ago that mistakes that were made could be learned from. He would review the tapes. He would watch the match. He would train harder. Back to Japan with him, yeah?
He may be the current Rising Phoenix contender, but he also had another goal, one that was started from the beginning of his tenure within P-Dubs. Those empty Duos Championship belts shone brightly. Fighting against another team with a person that knew his idiosyncrasies and habits, that could read him like the back of a book and vise versa? And the opportunity to fix his mistakes against Maz?
Nah, he couldn't just brush off an opportunity like that.
"Why, you little shits!"
The shattering sound of windows being smashed echoed through empty street ways of late night Islington, England. A lower-suburban district of London, Islington had seen some harder times due to the dynamic events of the world. You wouldn't think that it would hit somewhere so populated as London, but it did. It was stereotypical. Lower market equals lower spending, equals a rise in bad behavior. An older man, perhaps the proprietor of the shop, hobbled out onto his doorstep, shaking the proverbial "get off my lawn" fist at two retreating figures heading off into the darkness where the only working street light wouldn't follow them.
The pair themselves were two sixteen year old kids with a penchant for destruction. In the last week alone, three stores had been vandalized, and four cars broken into. The police had been stumped at the motive behind the crimes, because the culprits never took any items from the places. And in this day and age, it would be more useful to take items, but they never did. It wasn't in their modus operandi. But for Callien and Elena, stealing wasn't the end goal. No. Neither one of them really cared for someone else's belongings - they merely wanted to watch the world burn around them. Elena had her reasons, what with being an orphaned child at such a young age. And Callien? Call it petulant rebellion.
They rushed around the corner of a small walkway between two sets of flats, the two of them. It was warm out, yet humid. Not really the typical London weather, but honestly, what was normal these days? The world had been set into chaos, but it surrounded the two of them in an ugly noose. Unable to deal with their adolescent feelings, they fought hard against society. Since they'd met, it had been a struggle to survive. To Callien, it was an attempt to rebel against those who fought to pressure him, to goad him into following their ways. And he wasn't going to.
"That's number three tonight," Elena muttered, a laugh sitting hidden in her throat.
"Wonder how long it'll take for the po-po." He replied, watching behind him as they moved quickly away from the scene of the crime. He was certain none had seen them, and perhaps they'd get away again. A few blocks away, the horn of a siren blared. But they were far away. Safe, for now.
When they'd reached the local town square, or a semblance of it, they stopped. Elena dropped down to sit on edge of the grandiose fountain, while Callien slid down to lean against the cool concrete. "Feeling any better?"
He shrugged noncommittally, a trait he would carry with him into the rest of his life. He was good at downplaying any form of emotion, but he was terrible at holding back when enraged. It was why he was here, and not spending his summer back in Seattle with his family. Or rather, they'd headed off to Disney World, his younger sister in tow, and flew him to stay with Auntie Fiona since he just couldn't seem to keep his shit in check. He wasn't fond of the overtly pleasant mouse, but the fact that he wasn't allowed to be part of the family vacation left a sore spot.
And they wondered why he was such a dick?
It'd started when he was a kid, the rebellion, the anger. He'd become angry with his teachers and his family when an opposite belief clashed with his own. Faithful Presbyterians, he stopped attending church, finding the rigidity of religion a burden upon him. He stopped excelling at school, despite his "gifted" status. He didn't care. And maybe he never would again. He discovered he could be book-smart on his own time, and it didn't have to be within the confines of four walls and a teacher with little intelligence in any of his subjects. Confused by his behavior, his parents decided that time away would help, and he wasn't included in the decision. Off to England. This cycle repeated. He was convinced his family wanted nothing to do with him and he became more withdrawn and more anti-social. And if it wasn't for almost being decked by Elena, he probably wouldn't have her either.
On his second "vacation", he'd met Elena as a young vagabond just chillin' on the streets. They became friends after he'd pissed her off (truly, it was easy to do) by insulting her after she'd bumped into him. And they fit well together. From day one, there had been a type of bonded chemistry that only the best of friends, or even lovers, might have had. They probably would have been had the circumstances been right. Their friendship kindled into a family. No matter what they said, blood did not always equal family. Sometimes, you had to choose your pack by yourself.
"What happened this time?" She knew him well enough to know that he was bluffing. When he said nothing, she lifted her converse-laden foot and pushed it into his head.
Callien shrugged once more. "The same. Ma, Da, they just don't get it. It's like pulling teeth on my end, while they're over there not even trying to understand why their kid isn't even interested in one sliver of their life. Dad keeps flailing the money prospect in my face. Mom keeps trying to say my life will be so wonderful. They keep trying to have me take the damn business, and I don't want it. They can give it to Adelynn."
"Did you tell them that?"
He snorted. "You think they actually gave me a moment to speak to them? Nah. They just sent me here again."
There was silence for a few moments. Elena shrugged then, leaning down and hugging Callien from behind. He lifted his hand and grasped her arm, about the only sign of affection he was willing to give. "Well, I'm glad you got kicked back here."
"You and me both."
A loss is a loss. To say I'm not irritated with myself, to give the impression that I thought I kicked ass, is a fallacy and a cop out. I failed. I won't lie, I seem to focus on my failures more so than I do my losses. For instance, I should have seen that kick. I should have been prepared. We were going head to head, Maz and I. But I dropped the ball on myself. I can sit and review the tapes, I can see what I did wrong, but that can be saved for another time. This time, I need to focus on the match at hand. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is coming up at Awakening. Despite my loss, I'm still the number one contender to the Rising Phoenix title. Despite my loss, I'm still standing and ready to go. Let me let you in on a little secret: this is what we came here for.
I've fought singles matches for my whole career. It's been me, myself, and the occasional kick in the balls from Elena since I began wrestling a few years ago. At first, it was a temper for my temper. It was the classic psychological bait and switch by placing my pent-up anger into something I could physically connect with as opposed to drinking my rage away and shooting up with the next drug of choice. I won't lie, I made shitty ass choices before I was pulled into this sport, ones that will probably affect me when I'm older. But for now, I truly enjoy the chance to realign my thoughts and find myself standing against an opponent in the center of the ring. I enjoy dissolving whatever emotions I've saved up from the past month of this divorce, and pummeling it into the face of the unlucky bastard to come my way. Unfortunately, that could be anyone in this match.
But this is what Elena and I came for. The Duos Championship was the call for us, believe it or not. It's great to garner accolades separately, and gain recognition in the company as you fight your way through the masses to a singular, spectacular glory. We've fought for that, and in our own ways, we've earned our recognition. It's enough to have someone who doesn't even know us throw words of disdain in our direction. It's enough to have someone be worried about having to face us. We deserve to be looked at for our collective skills and power. 'Lena and I have been basically siblings for the last twelve years, and while we didn't enter the wrestling ring at the same time, we've certainly figured out how each one moves, what our key attacks are, and how we can best dominate that ring. We don't sit back and watch, take a nap in-between our appearance dates; no, we train. I'm not a musclehead junkie that's interested in extending the size of my biceps, and Elena isn't the type of wrestler to file her nails during commercial breaks. We break one another. We leave bruises. We're harder on each other than the average wrestler. We know each other. To say that we're not interested in this thing, that we're focused on everything else? Sure, go ahead and think that.
But let me remind you that while the Iron King Tournament took place, however, the Duos competitions were not taking place. And now that it is, we have the opportunity to become contenders for that championship. The Duos Championship is new, established as of October last year. To be the first in the history of the company to obtain those titles? Elena and I would be thrilled. Of course, we'd have to go through the demolition team of Aurora and Maz, but we'll get there when we get there, right?
But as for Awakening's match on Sunday, it comes down to this. I'm not worried about The Collective, thanks for asking. While they seem like a great group of guys, I just don't see them carrying the same drive as myself and Elena, or even the awkward combination of Andrews and Faith. And speaking of . . .
For a team, I'm interested in the pairing. I'm not a promoter, I'm not a booker, but to listen, to review, to see the opponents that we have in this team, it's a wonder why they even put them together. Was it so they made it look like Elena and I wouldn't have a shot? That there'd be something . . . I dunno, exciting here? No. This was an attempt to shower people with some form of ability, and have them duke it out to see which team could be coherent enough and sound to excel. It just astonishes me that you have people so blatantly opposite teaming together like Faith and Chris Andrews.
To be fair, if I'd done my work well, I'd have more to say on Andrews. I know he's friends with Elena, and I know that's going to be a struggle for him. But I suggest you listen well, Chris. She wants this more than I do, and when she faces off with you in the ring, when you're one of the ones standing there in her way, she's not going to see you as a friend. She's going to see you as a road block, and she's going to bulldoze through you. You've made a name for yourself, I see, floating along the likes of Declan Black and others in Seattle Pro. You're a good kid, and I mean that. You could probably be one to look out for. I enjoy seeing what you bring to the table. But you're stuck in a tag team that's just as unstable as the one created for that one match you had. It's unfortunate. You have a shot, from what I can tell, and I do hope to see you succeed in the future. But this is another championship opportunity, and it's not one that we're just going to let slip through our fingertips. As for what you'll find from me in this match, if you've been following my tenure here, you'll see that I'm not exactly the cleanest fighter, and while she's your friend, you're not mine. You are a means to an end. Nothing more. Nothing less. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. There's no room for failure.
But Chris isn't the only person in that team. To make a team, you have to have two people. To have a team, you should be cohesive enough to work and collaborate together. This is a problem, because the closest I've ever seen Faith and Chris is on opposite ends of the arena. Have they spoken to one another? No. Have they even come at us with arguments to compliment one another? No. I've seen nothing but insecurity and blatant arrogance from each of them respectively.
Congratulations, Faith. You've shaped your life around something that you'll be in for fifteen, twenty years maximum. While you prepared your athletic abilities, the rest of us were out having experiences that you wouldn't even be able to wrap your head around. Tell me, in your training, did you ever have the feel of breaking someone's face underneath your own hand? Have you beaten someone within an inch of their lives? Have you broken someone's arm? Have you even been enraged? Or are you so focused on the technical skills of something you won't be able to carry into your senior years? We all fall down sometimes, but some of us are too injured to stand back up. You've fallen. You fell in Boats n' Throws, and you got dropped from the tournament when you fell to someone virtually unknown to Phoenix Wrestling. How does that make you feel? So before you start throwing epithets of disdain towards me for being prideful, take a look at yourself and see why you can't seem to capitalize when it matters.
What is misunderstood about myself and Elena is that we're not here to make friends. We're not here to buddy with the world. We're here to compete. We're here to prove our skills. And if that means we fight like it's our last fight, we do that. You better be prepared come Sunday, because Elena and I are prepared to do whatever is necessary. Can you say the same?
"Finn, have you seen my--"
Seated on the couch in the grandiose mansion that the Mercers owned, Finn raised his hand with a singular blood-colored stiletto in it without looking up from his DVR'd episode of the most recent The Walking Dead. He lived in the guest house now, and was always on call to babysit his favorite niece at a moment's beckon. She sat, playing with the most recent toy that Finn'd bought her (a Pikachu, because you had to start a love of Pokemon early, of course). Elena let out an impatient huff and stomped her way over to snatch it back. She and Christian were out to schmooze with a few business associates, probably to bring more deals in for his company. Elena climbed over the back of the couch in the most un-lady-like fashion and flopped down next to him.
"All the emergency numbers are on the fridge," she murmured, leaning down to strap the shoe onto her foot.
"I am the emergency number."
"Isabella needs to be in bed at nine o'clock, no later." She was insistent.
"Ten o'clock, got it."
"Finn . . . "
"Uncle Finny never does what Mommy wants." Finn retorted, keeping his eyes on the television, a smirk rising on his face. He knew what was coming next. A sharp smack echoed off the back of his head, one that he didn't even bother dodging. He snorted. "Come on, do you really think I'm going to just give her ice cream and let her swing from the chandeliers? I've got this."
Elena smiled then, shaking her head. They were no longer sixteen year old kids. They no longer felt irritation and anger towards the world. It was localized, pinpointed in their wrestling skills, and focused onto their opponents. She hugged her brother then, and just as he'd done when they were younger, he lifted a hand and grasped her arm. Nothing had changed over the years. And nothing would. Friends came and went. Teams could disband. But family was the strongest bond anyone could have.
"I know you do. We both do."
With a grin, he replied and nodded, "True that."
FIN[N]
-----
2,999 words according to word counter. Thanks for the awesome match!
It was fun. Good luck guys!
He may be the current Rising Phoenix contender, but he also had another goal, one that was started from the beginning of his tenure within P-Dubs. Those empty Duos Championship belts shone brightly. Fighting against another team with a person that knew his idiosyncrasies and habits, that could read him like the back of a book and vise versa? And the opportunity to fix his mistakes against Maz?
Nah, he couldn't just brush off an opportunity like that.
•••
July 16th, 2005"Why, you little shits!"
The shattering sound of windows being smashed echoed through empty street ways of late night Islington, England. A lower-suburban district of London, Islington had seen some harder times due to the dynamic events of the world. You wouldn't think that it would hit somewhere so populated as London, but it did. It was stereotypical. Lower market equals lower spending, equals a rise in bad behavior. An older man, perhaps the proprietor of the shop, hobbled out onto his doorstep, shaking the proverbial "get off my lawn" fist at two retreating figures heading off into the darkness where the only working street light wouldn't follow them.
The pair themselves were two sixteen year old kids with a penchant for destruction. In the last week alone, three stores had been vandalized, and four cars broken into. The police had been stumped at the motive behind the crimes, because the culprits never took any items from the places. And in this day and age, it would be more useful to take items, but they never did. It wasn't in their modus operandi. But for Callien and Elena, stealing wasn't the end goal. No. Neither one of them really cared for someone else's belongings - they merely wanted to watch the world burn around them. Elena had her reasons, what with being an orphaned child at such a young age. And Callien? Call it petulant rebellion.
They rushed around the corner of a small walkway between two sets of flats, the two of them. It was warm out, yet humid. Not really the typical London weather, but honestly, what was normal these days? The world had been set into chaos, but it surrounded the two of them in an ugly noose. Unable to deal with their adolescent feelings, they fought hard against society. Since they'd met, it had been a struggle to survive. To Callien, it was an attempt to rebel against those who fought to pressure him, to goad him into following their ways. And he wasn't going to.
"That's number three tonight," Elena muttered, a laugh sitting hidden in her throat.
"Wonder how long it'll take for the po-po." He replied, watching behind him as they moved quickly away from the scene of the crime. He was certain none had seen them, and perhaps they'd get away again. A few blocks away, the horn of a siren blared. But they were far away. Safe, for now.
When they'd reached the local town square, or a semblance of it, they stopped. Elena dropped down to sit on edge of the grandiose fountain, while Callien slid down to lean against the cool concrete. "Feeling any better?"
He shrugged noncommittally, a trait he would carry with him into the rest of his life. He was good at downplaying any form of emotion, but he was terrible at holding back when enraged. It was why he was here, and not spending his summer back in Seattle with his family. Or rather, they'd headed off to Disney World, his younger sister in tow, and flew him to stay with Auntie Fiona since he just couldn't seem to keep his shit in check. He wasn't fond of the overtly pleasant mouse, but the fact that he wasn't allowed to be part of the family vacation left a sore spot.
And they wondered why he was such a dick?
It'd started when he was a kid, the rebellion, the anger. He'd become angry with his teachers and his family when an opposite belief clashed with his own. Faithful Presbyterians, he stopped attending church, finding the rigidity of religion a burden upon him. He stopped excelling at school, despite his "gifted" status. He didn't care. And maybe he never would again. He discovered he could be book-smart on his own time, and it didn't have to be within the confines of four walls and a teacher with little intelligence in any of his subjects. Confused by his behavior, his parents decided that time away would help, and he wasn't included in the decision. Off to England. This cycle repeated. He was convinced his family wanted nothing to do with him and he became more withdrawn and more anti-social. And if it wasn't for almost being decked by Elena, he probably wouldn't have her either.
On his second "vacation", he'd met Elena as a young vagabond just chillin' on the streets. They became friends after he'd pissed her off (truly, it was easy to do) by insulting her after she'd bumped into him. And they fit well together. From day one, there had been a type of bonded chemistry that only the best of friends, or even lovers, might have had. They probably would have been had the circumstances been right. Their friendship kindled into a family. No matter what they said, blood did not always equal family. Sometimes, you had to choose your pack by yourself.
"What happened this time?" She knew him well enough to know that he was bluffing. When he said nothing, she lifted her converse-laden foot and pushed it into his head.
Callien shrugged once more. "The same. Ma, Da, they just don't get it. It's like pulling teeth on my end, while they're over there not even trying to understand why their kid isn't even interested in one sliver of their life. Dad keeps flailing the money prospect in my face. Mom keeps trying to say my life will be so wonderful. They keep trying to have me take the damn business, and I don't want it. They can give it to Adelynn."
"Did you tell them that?"
He snorted. "You think they actually gave me a moment to speak to them? Nah. They just sent me here again."
There was silence for a few moments. Elena shrugged then, leaning down and hugging Callien from behind. He lifted his hand and grasped her arm, about the only sign of affection he was willing to give. "Well, I'm glad you got kicked back here."
"You and me both."
•••
A loss is a loss. To say I'm not irritated with myself, to give the impression that I thought I kicked ass, is a fallacy and a cop out. I failed. I won't lie, I seem to focus on my failures more so than I do my losses. For instance, I should have seen that kick. I should have been prepared. We were going head to head, Maz and I. But I dropped the ball on myself. I can sit and review the tapes, I can see what I did wrong, but that can be saved for another time. This time, I need to focus on the match at hand. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is coming up at Awakening. Despite my loss, I'm still the number one contender to the Rising Phoenix title. Despite my loss, I'm still standing and ready to go. Let me let you in on a little secret: this is what we came here for.
I've fought singles matches for my whole career. It's been me, myself, and the occasional kick in the balls from Elena since I began wrestling a few years ago. At first, it was a temper for my temper. It was the classic psychological bait and switch by placing my pent-up anger into something I could physically connect with as opposed to drinking my rage away and shooting up with the next drug of choice. I won't lie, I made shitty ass choices before I was pulled into this sport, ones that will probably affect me when I'm older. But for now, I truly enjoy the chance to realign my thoughts and find myself standing against an opponent in the center of the ring. I enjoy dissolving whatever emotions I've saved up from the past month of this divorce, and pummeling it into the face of the unlucky bastard to come my way. Unfortunately, that could be anyone in this match.
But this is what Elena and I came for. The Duos Championship was the call for us, believe it or not. It's great to garner accolades separately, and gain recognition in the company as you fight your way through the masses to a singular, spectacular glory. We've fought for that, and in our own ways, we've earned our recognition. It's enough to have someone who doesn't even know us throw words of disdain in our direction. It's enough to have someone be worried about having to face us. We deserve to be looked at for our collective skills and power. 'Lena and I have been basically siblings for the last twelve years, and while we didn't enter the wrestling ring at the same time, we've certainly figured out how each one moves, what our key attacks are, and how we can best dominate that ring. We don't sit back and watch, take a nap in-between our appearance dates; no, we train. I'm not a musclehead junkie that's interested in extending the size of my biceps, and Elena isn't the type of wrestler to file her nails during commercial breaks. We break one another. We leave bruises. We're harder on each other than the average wrestler. We know each other. To say that we're not interested in this thing, that we're focused on everything else? Sure, go ahead and think that.
But let me remind you that while the Iron King Tournament took place, however, the Duos competitions were not taking place. And now that it is, we have the opportunity to become contenders for that championship. The Duos Championship is new, established as of October last year. To be the first in the history of the company to obtain those titles? Elena and I would be thrilled. Of course, we'd have to go through the demolition team of Aurora and Maz, but we'll get there when we get there, right?
But as for Awakening's match on Sunday, it comes down to this. I'm not worried about The Collective, thanks for asking. While they seem like a great group of guys, I just don't see them carrying the same drive as myself and Elena, or even the awkward combination of Andrews and Faith. And speaking of . . .
For a team, I'm interested in the pairing. I'm not a promoter, I'm not a booker, but to listen, to review, to see the opponents that we have in this team, it's a wonder why they even put them together. Was it so they made it look like Elena and I wouldn't have a shot? That there'd be something . . . I dunno, exciting here? No. This was an attempt to shower people with some form of ability, and have them duke it out to see which team could be coherent enough and sound to excel. It just astonishes me that you have people so blatantly opposite teaming together like Faith and Chris Andrews.
To be fair, if I'd done my work well, I'd have more to say on Andrews. I know he's friends with Elena, and I know that's going to be a struggle for him. But I suggest you listen well, Chris. She wants this more than I do, and when she faces off with you in the ring, when you're one of the ones standing there in her way, she's not going to see you as a friend. She's going to see you as a road block, and she's going to bulldoze through you. You've made a name for yourself, I see, floating along the likes of Declan Black and others in Seattle Pro. You're a good kid, and I mean that. You could probably be one to look out for. I enjoy seeing what you bring to the table. But you're stuck in a tag team that's just as unstable as the one created for that one match you had. It's unfortunate. You have a shot, from what I can tell, and I do hope to see you succeed in the future. But this is another championship opportunity, and it's not one that we're just going to let slip through our fingertips. As for what you'll find from me in this match, if you've been following my tenure here, you'll see that I'm not exactly the cleanest fighter, and while she's your friend, you're not mine. You are a means to an end. Nothing more. Nothing less. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. There's no room for failure.
But Chris isn't the only person in that team. To make a team, you have to have two people. To have a team, you should be cohesive enough to work and collaborate together. This is a problem, because the closest I've ever seen Faith and Chris is on opposite ends of the arena. Have they spoken to one another? No. Have they even come at us with arguments to compliment one another? No. I've seen nothing but insecurity and blatant arrogance from each of them respectively.
Congratulations, Faith. You've shaped your life around something that you'll be in for fifteen, twenty years maximum. While you prepared your athletic abilities, the rest of us were out having experiences that you wouldn't even be able to wrap your head around. Tell me, in your training, did you ever have the feel of breaking someone's face underneath your own hand? Have you beaten someone within an inch of their lives? Have you broken someone's arm? Have you even been enraged? Or are you so focused on the technical skills of something you won't be able to carry into your senior years? We all fall down sometimes, but some of us are too injured to stand back up. You've fallen. You fell in Boats n' Throws, and you got dropped from the tournament when you fell to someone virtually unknown to Phoenix Wrestling. How does that make you feel? So before you start throwing epithets of disdain towards me for being prideful, take a look at yourself and see why you can't seem to capitalize when it matters.
What is misunderstood about myself and Elena is that we're not here to make friends. We're not here to buddy with the world. We're here to compete. We're here to prove our skills. And if that means we fight like it's our last fight, we do that. You better be prepared come Sunday, because Elena and I are prepared to do whatever is necessary. Can you say the same?
•••
"Finn, have you seen my--"
Seated on the couch in the grandiose mansion that the Mercers owned, Finn raised his hand with a singular blood-colored stiletto in it without looking up from his DVR'd episode of the most recent The Walking Dead. He lived in the guest house now, and was always on call to babysit his favorite niece at a moment's beckon. She sat, playing with the most recent toy that Finn'd bought her (a Pikachu, because you had to start a love of Pokemon early, of course). Elena let out an impatient huff and stomped her way over to snatch it back. She and Christian were out to schmooze with a few business associates, probably to bring more deals in for his company. Elena climbed over the back of the couch in the most un-lady-like fashion and flopped down next to him.
"All the emergency numbers are on the fridge," she murmured, leaning down to strap the shoe onto her foot.
"I am the emergency number."
"Isabella needs to be in bed at nine o'clock, no later." She was insistent.
"Ten o'clock, got it."
"Finn . . . "
"Uncle Finny never does what Mommy wants." Finn retorted, keeping his eyes on the television, a smirk rising on his face. He knew what was coming next. A sharp smack echoed off the back of his head, one that he didn't even bother dodging. He snorted. "Come on, do you really think I'm going to just give her ice cream and let her swing from the chandeliers? I've got this."
Elena smiled then, shaking her head. They were no longer sixteen year old kids. They no longer felt irritation and anger towards the world. It was localized, pinpointed in their wrestling skills, and focused onto their opponents. She hugged her brother then, and just as he'd done when they were younger, he lifted a hand and grasped her arm. Nothing had changed over the years. And nothing would. Friends came and went. Teams could disband. But family was the strongest bond anyone could have.
"I know you do. We both do."
With a grin, he replied and nodded, "True that."
FIN[N]
-----
2,999 words according to word counter. Thanks for the awesome match!
It was fun. Good luck guys!