Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2013 0:38:45 GMT -6
Smoke spread amongst the carnage of the ravaged Terrordome, internally demolished from the war which had nearly torn the legendary structure apart. Battered bodies littered the blood-stained ground; unable to move from the damage, unable to forget the excruciating anguish they had fearlessly sustained. Excitement flowed from the farthest depths of the stunned crowd in Tokyo, smothering the entire dome with pleasantness and disbelief. And above the destroyed scaffold, using all of the strength he could muster to maintain his difficult grip on two broken chains, one man swung freely beneath the glistening briefcase; an arm reach away from victory, an arm reach away from completing his road to redemption.
With instinctive precision, the agonized male released his hand from one of the supportive chains, hastily unhooking the briefcase that would grant him a supreme opportunity at Justice 5. And as he fell upon the steel grating of the third tier, the timekeeper's bell chimed decisively, putting an end to the punishing contest. One flustered breath later, the triumphant individual weakly hugged the briefcase at his crimson-coloured chest, digesting the resounding words of Tom Davis in a state of weariness and relief.
"Here is your Terrordome Five Winner ... MATT SLATER!"
The exhausted victor had been made clear; visually and vocally. Matt Slater had torturously redeemed his past mistakes, surviving against the odds to legitimize his chances of winning the NEW World Heavyweight Championship at Justice 5. It might have taken one perfectly-timed dropkick to wipe out Hunter Valentyne and Valora simultaneously, causing them to collide with a section of the Terrordome that was covered in hidden C4 explosives, but his lethal battle to the pinnacle of the structure had made this aerial move hard to establish and successfully complete, especially when there was no room for error.
His brutalized knee was numbed and swollen. His back was again pulsating with tremendous pain. His face was masked in blood, courtesy of the skin being lacerated and ripped open from barbed wire. But despite these inflicted disabilities, Slater courageously persisted.
It wasn't just a desire to win the Terrordome. It was a necessity.
The future of New Edge Wrestling relied on his determined fortitude, a future that would be built upon his heroic representation for the betterment of the company. Inkt might have been the catalyst for positive change, but Slater was prepared to purify the organization's values that Inkt would bring forward as the World Heavyweight Champion.
Managing to climb down to the first tier of the Terrordome, Slater reacquainted with his befriended allies. Ryan Omega was understandably delirious after his sacrificial dive onto Patrick Jones from a twenty-foot ladder, a move that sent both men crashing down to the distant floor, eradicating their chances of conquering the demonic chamber. Scarlet had suffered second-degree burns but she was coping with the excruciating sensation, tending to Omega as her blistered back grotesquely worsened. Each of them would never forget the stench of blood, burnt flesh and explosive residue, but at that moment, they were all proud of their cohesive teamwork.
Kamikaze should have ended with United celebrating in unison, gloriously bringing closure to the positively-received event. Unfortunately, there was a surprise in the works that would change the landscape of NEW forever, a startling revelation that would begin with five familiar words.
"Reach out and touch faith!"
Al Envy's return sparked further excitement from the enthralled fans in attendance, having been medically evaluated and released from the hospital. His announced hospitalization had been the story of the night, creating a sentimental movement which had swept across the entire world. Happy tears and joyful reactions erased the sadistic atmosphere of the evening, letting Envy know that were always in support of him during the malicious festivities.
Slater and the others were glad to see him back. Once he joined them inside the Terrordome, they could properly end the night on a high note. Inkt was the new World Heavyweight Champion, Slater had won the Terrordome, and Envy had mostly recovered from his concerning condition. Although there were signs of depleted energy and weakness, illustrated by his cautious movements and mannerisms, Envy still appeared relatively strong. After Envy had helped Slater to his feet and embraced Scarlet, it was evidently clear that this would be a moment for the world to praise and cheerfully memorize.
But then ... it happened.
Without provocation or suspicious foresight, Envy pulled Scarlet into a tight facelock, a competitor whose exhaustion had left her defenceless against his contemplated attack. Confusion and alarm riddled the Tokyo Dome as Envy powerfully lifted Scarlet into a vertical position, and once she was dropped onto her head, knocked unconscious from the mastered Brainbuster, silence became the background noise for the building to shockingly savour.
With one shocking GBE, he had physically emphasised his dark intentions. He had dishonoured his loyal promises. He had tarnished his vows. He had turned his back on the wholehearted qualities of United, cementing his traitorous actions with a wicked smile as he looked towards the perpetrators of this heinous assault.
The Styles Mafia.
Numbed and mortified, the audience continued to witness their hero gloat and posture arrogantly, rejuvenated by the evilness that had once again corrupted him. They had mourned solemnly over the news of his hospitalization and medical diagnosis. They had shared their sentimental wishes and compassionate prayers, hoping that he would fully recover and come back stronger than ever. They had paid homage to a man who personified passion and desire. The entire PPV had been dedicated to him, and he had used their gullible emotions to feed his ego and make his alignment with the Mafia even more memorable.
All of the arm bands, all of the motivational signs, all of the video packages ... they had meant absolutely nothing.
Slater didn't know if Envy's condition had been made up as a manipulation scheme, pulling the wool over everyone's eyes with false reports and heart-wrenching details. He didn't know if Envy had legitimately suffered something miniscule in his hotel room, altering the plans of the Styles Mafia and making them use an exploitation tactic instead. All he knew was that Envy's deceptive role had been fulfilled ... and United weren't going to take this betrayal lightly.
He was going to pay for his treacherous transgressions, and the rest of the Styles Mafia were going to feel the wrath of a unit invigorated by passionate revenge.
"Deep in thought again?"
Leaning against the protective barrier that bordered the Navy Pier, a constructed extension of the Chicago shoreline that moved residents and tourists further into Lake Michigan, Kronin and Slater surveyed the numerous boats that were docked nearby. It used to be pier that facilitated cargo freighters, but now it was one of Chicago's attractive hot spots for entertainment, featuring functional amusements, arcades and other fun activities. Lilly and Falcon weren't present, conducting their activities elsewhere. Kronin had been the one to speak, conveying the urge to talk with his United ally instead of standing around awkwardly, viewing the sights of the Windy City in silence.
"I'll take that as a yes," Kronin continued, having not received a reply from his United companion.
"Sorry..." Slater apologized, sighing as he adjusted his lenient posture. "I just can't get what Al Envy did out of my mind."
"No one expected that to occur, my friend," Kronin clarified. "Not you, not me ... not the entire world for that matter."
"But we should have seen it coming."
"The Americans should have seen the attack on Pearl Harbour coming ... but did they?"
Kronin's logic was indisputable, something which Slater accepted with a nod of his head. He had already published a speech on regrets in relation to the Terrordome Match before Kamikaze. He mentioned that mistakes and tragedies were inevitable. Kronin's rhetorical question matched those philosophical statements. It was rather ironic that Kronin used a reference to the Japanese strikes after the duo had departed Japan, but the sentence had served its purpose in identifying lack of foresight and vulnerability.
"They might have gotten the last laugh at Kamikaze ... but once this revolutionary war is said and done, we'll be laughing the loudest."
A cold breeze brushed against the pair from the east, causing Kronin to adjust his jacket. This was also an indication for the duo to move, locating a building that would offer sufficient warmth and comfort.
"Anyway..." Slater said, moving away from the barrier as the passing breeze culminated. "It's time to stop thinking about the past. It's time to move forward and enjoy ourselves."
"Enjoy ourselves?" Kronin said, raising an eyebrow in befuddlement. "I thought we were here to discuss our strategies for Ignite?"
Slater and Kronin had been scheduled to compete in a Three Way Tag Team Match for the NEW World Tag Team Championships; a bemusing prospect given that Kronin and Slater had never been a team before. They had not even collaborated on anything that much since Slater joined United. There had been discussions between the two regarding their histories and interests, but they had never been in a situation that relied on their chemistry and effectiveness as a team to win a wrestling match.
The similarities between the two men had already been established, yet their comparisons would be tested in a collective environment. Individually, they were technically-gifted athletes. Both were European with varying backgrounds and lifestyles, but their abilities remained the same. However, the combination of their strengths and personable qualities had not been experimented upon. Without practice and communication, they would struggle to get the advantage.
Luckily, both of them were experienced in a Tag Team field, developing skills that would benefit each other in the long run. The problem was that were contending with Hunter Valentyne and Johnny Stylez, a tandem that were extremely proficient as a methodical unit. Valora and Judas Dathan made up the other team, and the relationship between the two had been fierce since the beginning.
"That can wait," Slater replied. "I've become complacent with boredom lately. It's time to start having fun."
Having grown tired of roaming around the same places in a depressive stupor, Slater had sworn to himself that he would start having more fun. Not only would it combat his depression, but it would help him socialize more often and acquaint himself with different people.
"So that's why you invited me here..." Kronin said, studying the Navy Pier with a keen eye. "I suppose we could ease ourselves with a few games."
"Actually ... I have a better idea in mind. It's a game of sorts, but it'll be rather useful for us at the same time. It's further up the Pier."
"I suppose we should get a move on then."
Collecting his crutch, Slater took hold of the supportive implement and limped along the Pier. His knee had become quite the problem since leaving Japan, but the doctors had assured him that he would be good to go on Sunday. Kronin followed slowly, acknowledging the glances he was getting from the children who were mesmerized by his towering appearance. The duo did stop to sign autographs and take photographs on occasion, but they didn't hate wasting their time conversing with the general public and pleasing the children.
Eventually, Slater stopped outside the place he wanted to experience. Kronin read the colourful sign aloud.
"Amazing Chicago's Funhouse Maze...?"
"Come on, it'll be fun."
"But isn't this designed for the young ones?" Kronin debated. "I'm not exactly small..."
"It's also for families and couples," Slater said, smiling as he did so. After Kronin shuffled on the spot, embarrassed by the notion of exploring the confines of this maze, he sighed with acceptance.
"I can't wait to see the expressions on their faces..."
Walking steadily into the building, Slater and Kronin headed towards the payment counter. The young woman standing on the other side stared in awe at their appearance, hardly moving from her frozen position.
"Hello there," Slater said, beginning his speech with a polite introduction. "We'd like to go into the Funhouse Maze please."
Being unable to comprehend the fact that these two celebrities wanted to spend their leisure time in the maze, the woman blinked considerably. Finally she flinched, snapping out of her awkward trance.
"Of course! But ... why...?"
"That's a good question..." Kronin agreed, turning his attention to Slater. "Why are we going into the Funhouse Maze, Matt?"
"Because it's a fun activity that takes teamwork to complete, Kronin," Slater replied, continuing to smile.
"In your condition?" the woman mused, pointing at Slater's visible knee brace and the crutch he was using.
"There's no rush to complete the maze, is there?"
"Not ... really..."
"Then I should be fine," Slater declared, fishing out some dollar notes from his pocket. "This will be enough to pay for the both of us."
"Ahem..." Kronin interjected, taking out some of his own notes. "I believe I will pay the full amount."
"So you're not going to accept my kindness? German's and their stubbornness..."
Kronin smirked at Slater as the latter chuckled.
"Englishmen and their unneeded generosity..." Kronin replied, slamming his notes onto the table.
"Touché..." Slater agreed, filtering his share and slamming those notes onto the table as well. The woman looked between both men before she gathered up the money.
"Thank you!" she confirmed eccentrically, beaming with happiness at having serviced Slater and Kronin at the same time. "The door to the Maze is on the left. Enjoy yourselves in there!"
"Oh we will..." Kronin replied with a tone of eeriness, lightly pushing Slater towards the access point without his consent, causing him to hobble on his legs tentatively. Kronin forced the door open and guided Slater inside the corridor beyond. Once the door shut, Kronin focused his attention on Slater.
"I need a better answer than what you gave, Matt. It's not that I'm against mazes. In fact one of the things I learned in the military was how to navigate difficult terrain without a compass, so this should be fairly simple. It's just that this type of game confuses me."
"Here's my explanation," Slater said, leaning back against the brick wall. "We need to adapt to certain situations and expect the unexpected if we're going to stay strong as a team. This maze is an example of that. There's different stuff in there that we need to react to and solve."
"So it's basically a tutorial for us, to test the waters so to speak."
"Precisely," Slater replied, accepting Kronin's hypothesis. "Both teams will try and damage us with mind games and bizarre strategies. We need to be prepared for those possibilities."
"You have a point," Kronin conceded. "I've dealt with Valora before ... as you're well aware. But this match will open up several avenues that we'll need to watch out for."
"Absolutely," Slater confirmed. "So ... ready to go in?"
"Well I've already paid," Kronin said. "And to be honest, I don't feel like getting my money back."
Journeying through a rainbow-coloured tunnel, Slater and Kronin reached an elevator. A luminous sign on the wall instructed the visitors to use the elevator, which would take them into Chicago's underground.
"That's got to be a lie..." Kronin said. "Unless this genuinely goes into the ocean, I'm not buying it."
"It doesn't," Slater explained. "It's one of those motorized contraptions that make you feel like you're descending."
"That makes sense."
Upon entering the fake elevator, Slater initiated the mini-ride by using the glowing panel. The buttons flashed rhythmically as the doors behind them closed, starting the process of the elevator. Meanwhile Slater caressed his knee, a tender action that Kronin acknowledged.
"For your sake, this maze better not have an obstacle course..."
"I doubt it does..." Slater replied, momentarily scanning his knee brace again. The floor vibrated under their feet as the elevator began to falsely plummet. "Otherwise they wouldn't have let me in."
"She did question your condition," Kronin postulated, referring to the woman behind the counter. "And I know from just looking at you that the Terrordome did a number on your health."
Keeping his eyes focused on the flashing elevator numbers, Slater relived the moment when he unhooked the briefcase. It was a truly remarkable accomplishment to cherish ... but then the steroid issue crept up, clouding his mind and making him frown responsively.
Slater had spent considerable time staring at the blood-smeared briefcase in his hotel room, silently reflecting on the Terrordome Match. One half of his mind was gratified by the victory ... but the other side was concerned with the illegal measures of his success. Whilst one half applauded his skilful efforts, the other countered with criticisms, questioning the ignorance of his idolized values and how he had attained the briefcase. Despite his joy, Slater couldn't neglect the objectifications, and as Slater rubbed the metallic surface of the briefcase with his fingers, a feeling of guilt-ridden sorrow began to emerge.
He estimated whether the result would have been different if he Falcon hadn't put steroids into his water bottles two weeks ago. He contemplated whether he would have won under the same circumstances, or if an alternate chain of events would have led to his disappointing defeat. There was a stubborn willingness to keep the briefcase and its rewarding contents as a possession, but because of his conflictions, there was also a desire to relinquish the prize he had agonizingly earned, citing unfair enhancement treatment as his cause for the vacancy.
He wanted to lie through his teeth and mask the hypocritical procedures he had used ... but he also wanted to be truthful, explaining the situation to the world.
As much as it hurt him to do, Slater decided to keep the briefcase. It wasn't because he couldn't admit that he had unknowingly taken the steroids. It was because he didn't want the Styles Mafia to win. Besides, he wasn't ingesting any more of the banned substances, so the effects were diluting over time.
"Again, I'll be fine..." Slater commented. "Knowing I shut Hunter up about winning the Terrordome keeps me going. Of course, he'll come up with another excuse that it didn't prove anything, but this week, I'll have something in store for him. How about you?"
"Ray Andrews did a number on me too," Kronin admitted, having lost the NEW Television Championship to the former military man at Kamikaze. "But I'm not done with him ... or Jesse Styles. They're expecting me to retaliate because of the way that match ended, but I'll bide my time. Both of them are on borrowed time, that's for sure."
"That's how I feel about Hunter and Johnny holding the Tag Team Championships," Slater confessed.
"I appreciate the confidence," Kronin replied.
"Hey, if we plan to win, we'll need that."
The elevator jolted to a stop after Slater had uttered those words, even though they hadn't realistically moved at all. The metallic doors in front of them then opened, revealing another corridor.
"Ready?"
"You first, my friend."
Slater accepted Kronin's suggestion for him to lead the way, manoeuvring out of the make-shift elevator with the support of his crutch. Numerous signs covered the bare brick walls as they toured the premises, eventually arriving at a dark room with green and red lights circling the interior. Strobe lights were also present, flashing at random intervals to disorientate the players.
"This must be what Johnny sees when he's on hallucinogenic drugs..." Slater theorized, analysing the psychedelic scenery of the maze. The walls were made of glass, making it much more difficult to navigate. "I feel like I'm already lost, and I'm at the doorway."
"Keep moving forward," Kronin instructed, moving past Slater. The atmosphere of the room quickly smothered him, but Kronin seemed to concentrate on the floor, not looking at anything else.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking for tracks..." Kronin said, naturally utilizing his survival training to accomplish the task of finding his way through.
"We're not in the jungle searching for hostile forces," Slater responded. "The footprints will be all over the place."
"Yes but if we can find the paths that have been used the most, we'll reach the exit."
"You're really getting into this," Slater said fondly, amused at Kronin's intricate, organizational skills.
"When you're on the verge of starvation and lost in an unknown land without a map, you tend to pick up on these things fairly quickly."
"At least you have a sense of direction ... unlike Johnny whenever he's driving a car."
Suddenly taking his eyes off the floor, Kronin turned his attention to Slater.
"That reminds me ... Johnny ran over Roger with that car in their match, didn't he?"
"I believe he did," Slater said, approaching Kronin to prevent the duo being split up.
"That's attempted vehicular homicide, isn't it?" Kronin asked. Afterwards he nodded his head, certain that Johnny would pay the penalty for such a felonious crime if it was reported. "Now isn't that interesting..."
Reaching into his pocket, Kronin brought out his phone. The mischievous expression on his face implied that something disastrous was going to occur for the reigning World Tag Team Champions if he got through to the operator of a particular agency that excelled in law enforcement.
"Well let me open up this here phone and dial this here num..."
In the process of pressing the buttons, Kronin was interrupted by Slater covering the phone with his hand. Kronin raised an eyebrow towards Slater, wondering why he prevented this information from being shared with the correct authorities.
"What good would it do?" Slater questioned this time around. "I know prison is the last place Johnny wants to end up in ... again ... but think of the bigger picture. If we incapacitate him with an arrest warrant and leave him stranded, one of our primary goals will be invalidated."
"How do you figure?"
"By playing them at their own game ... we'll be acting just the way they do. They'd expect us to weaken the structure of the Styles Mafia by eliminating Johnny from the equation with this kind of deal. Then if we manage to succeed, they'll start making excuses."
"That doesn't surprise me..." Kronin said. "Hunter is notorious for it."
"However, those excuses will actually be logical arguments," Slater continued. "If we did win without Johnny being present, forcing Hunter to get a replacement partner, we never truly won. We didn't officially take out the leading duo that held the belts in the first place."
Kronin contemplated Slater's words for a brief moment.
"You actually have a decent point there."
"Johnny being incarcerated won't do them any favours. That's something I can admit. But here's where we can really get under their skin. If he's not incriminated, they'll suffer the greatest humiliation of all."
"Far worse than Johnny dropping the soap on his first night?" Kronin humorously stated.
"Probably..." Slater pondered. "In hindsight, that might be worse, but I'm not sure if it's worse than Johnny getting slapped with a handful of sperm, or being broadcast on TMZ in a provocative position, tenderly groping Hunter's..."
Abruptly finalizing his disturbing thoughts, Slater shuddered and exhaled. After cleansing and re-organizing his train of thought, Slater continued.
"Here's my point. Domestik Disturbance has been a recurring team for over two years. They've won the World Tag Team Championships twice. Imagine two people who have never teamed up before, who have no solid chemistry at this moment in time, defeating them in their first championship defence. That will send them over the edge and decrease their confidence."
"And on top of that, they'll start making mistakes because of their frustration," Kronin clarified.
"That's how they'll eventually crumble. Their minds will formulate irrational decisions in order to get one over on us. Hunter will start making challenges that will dig him deeper into the ground. Johnny will go ballistic with his shovel, swinging at anything and everything. They'll be pulling at straws, but they'll always grab the short ones."
"And when they make those mistakes, we'll capitalize on their errors."
"And so will end the existence of the self-proclaimed "Greatest Tag Team in NEW History". Although ... I do have to question the authenticity of that phrase. According to the history books, they've only had four Tag Team matches during their tenure ... if you don't count Stables Wars at World War X."
"Let's see if you can remember them," Kronin said, examining Slater's memory.
"Well, they lost to Ryan Pugh and Inkt first, better known as Tat n Fat. Then, they won the World Tag Team Championships for the first time when the Business was formed, a match that I was in. So in other words, they basically won the belts by default when Ryan Pugh and Roger Wright let them win. Roger was my partner and he struck me with a shovel, but I digress. Then, they defeated Al Envy and Chester, who wasn't exactly fit to compete at that time, and in their most recent affair, they defeated Al Envy and Inkt using underhanded tactics to win the belts for the second time."
"And yet they were inducted into the Tag Team Hall of Fame?"
"I know, right? It blows my mind."
Kronin looked at the phone again, now that Slater had moved his hand away.
"Do you want to know something funny?"
"What?" Slater lightly questioned.
"I wasn't even going to call anyone. I was just changing the screen functions to see the floor better."
Aiming the phone towards the floor and moving forward at the same time, Kronin caught a distinct amount of prints.
"Here we go..."
"Isn't that classed as cheating?" Slater mused. "If you want to be like Hunter and Johnny, be my guest."
Sighing, Kronin placed the phone back into his pocket.
"Okay, we'll do things by the book. If the Styles Mafia had to go through this, they'd take a shortcut by storming through the glass."
Kronin and Slater went deeper into the maze, remaining wary of the directions they were taking in case they got lost. Throughout their experiences, a narrator revealed several details that summarized the history of Chicago, but Slater and Kronin ignored the voice. They soon developed a tolerance for their unsettling surroundings, managing to find their way to the other side after some trial and error.
"Well that was ... fascinating..." Kronin murmured.
"It's not over yet," Slater said, pointing towards a path that they needed to squeeze through to get into the next room. The sides were padded with rubber, helping the adults compress the material with their weight.
"Are you serious? I won't be able to fit through that!"
"Oh you'll be fine..." Slater assessed, moving towards the peculiar obstacle. Lifting up his crutch, Slater held his breath as he side-stepped through the thin gap, absorbing the pain in his knee as he balanced on his legs. The path was actually a tight fit, which didn't surprise Slater in the slightest; assuming anything would be simple in this type of environment was a cause for trouble.
Making it to the other side, Slater rested on his crutch again as Kronin took his turn.
"Was zum teufel..." Kronin announced in German, sounding stern at the complications of the rubber pathway. Once he reached the half-way point, a foreseeable problem arose.
"Matt ... I'm stuck..."
"Press yourself against the wall."
"What do you think I've been doing for the past thirty seconds?" Kronin said, informing Slater that he had attempted to soften his predicament to no avail. Shaking his head, Kronin grunted as he wrenched his body to the side, but this only made matters worse.
"Damn it! Get me out of this mess!"
Not wanting to stand by whilst his partner struggled to break free, Slater grabbed a hold of his arm and began to pull. Kronin moved along with the torque, and after a few moments he was free. Unfortunately, the suddenness of his freedom made Kronin lose his balance, collapsing onto Slater and making him land hard on his back.
"I told you it was designed for children..." Kronin said as he stood up, helping Slater back to his feet.
"Remind me never to go in here again..." Slater announced, feeling his back after sustaining the brunt of the fall. Kronin gathered up his crutch and handed it to Slater, taking some time to recuperate before they ventured towards the next task.
"So what are we supposed to do now?"
"It's on the floor..." Slater clarified, having discovered the computerized tiles. The graphical instructions exposed the point of the game: to stomp out the great Chicago fire that had been documented in many news bulletins after the monumental disaster. There was also a time-limit in place, meaning that Slater and Kronin had to react as quickly possible to eliminate the raging inferno.
"So we're essentially playing Dance Dance Revolution..." Slater said, referencing the popularized game.
"I'll stand over here, and you stand over there," Kronin commanded, creating a method that would put out the flames successfully.
Once the interactive game started, Kronin and Slater instantly went into action. Their stomping motions resounded off the tiles, with Slater using his good leg only. The flames moved from side to side, but it didn't take long for the screen to be cleared. A text-box congratulated their efforts, beckoning them to move on to the next location.
"I don't recall putting out fires like that in the military," Kronin said. "We usually used water or foam extinguishers."
"Did you at least picture them being Jesse Styles' face?" Slater joked. This was supposed to make Kronin laugh, but he shrugged dismissively.
"It did make me think of something though..."
"What would that be?"
"Valora and Judas Dathan, believe it or not."
"How did you come to that conclusion?" Slater asked curiously.
"Well first I pictured the flames burning down Chicago, and somehow I started to think of the enragement that burns within Valora's heart. She truly wanted to win the Terrordome, and you put a stop to that."
Slater nodded, recalling the moment where Valora was forced off the scaffold by Hunter Valentyne due to his loss of equilibrium. Despite her nose being broken by Scarlet earlier in the contest, Valora fought with all of her might to reach the third tier, wanting to solidify her placement in the Main Event of Justice 5. One C4 explosion later, Valora's chances had gone up in smoke.
"Now her anger will fester until the time is right to unleash it ... but then I thought of Judas Dathan, her tag team partner. Valora and Judas are combustible elements. There's been a history of bitterness and aggression between the two, and now they'll combine those qualities together in the worst way. Instead of taking their rage out on each other, they'll spread their enragement amongst everyone else, punishing them with uncontrollable fury."
Slater nodded slowly, impressed by Kronin's perception of their unstable partnership.
"But with that being said, there's a concern that they might not be able to get along. They'll lose control and want to destroy their foes, but will that be good for the team overall?"
"Trust me, I know what Judas Dathan is capable of," Slater replied. "He was the one who dislocated my shoulder with a Kimura Lock in ACW. I had no choice but to tap out. He deserved the win on that night after countering my moves, but this is another occasion, and he hasn't exactly been the same since December. As for Valora ... she punished me inside the Terrordome. I felt her passion and desire in a negative sense, and I do respect her abilities. But if they want to win this match, they need to co-exist, just like me and you ...or Hunter and Johnny."
"That's my point," Kronin confirmed. "Valora and Judas are ruthless inside the ring on their own, but in a tag team environment, they'll have to rely on each other to gain the victory."
"Well, I'm confident we'll diminish their acts of vengeance before they sprout forth..." Slater announced, stepping away from the technological tiles on the floor. Kronin did the same as he surveyed the premises, wanting to know where they had to go next.
"If it comes down to it, I'll deal with Valora, and you deal with Judas. Since we're familiar with their tactics and strengths, we should be able to handle their attacks and counter them efficiently."
"Well I have defeated Judas five times in my career. He's fighting to equal that record, but he still needs three victories to attain that goal."
After scanning the area, Slater and Kronin walked towards the final tunnel of the establishment; a tunnel that had a spinning background to cause dizziness and nausea along the way.
"That looks fun..." Slater said sarcastically, trying to maintain his composure.
"Ideally, it's best to look at the floor of the tunnel," Kronin suggested. "But we'll still be able to detect the spinning."
"Let's just go for it..."
Slater and Kronin moved through the tunnel, valiantly attempting to resist the animated screens. But the further they advanced, the worse the sensation became.
"Come on, Matt. You can do it."
Kronin's motivational speech inspired Slater to continue, persisting against the nauseating effects. It would be just like Sunday. No matter what trouble Slater or Kronin were in, they would watch each other's backs. They would continue to battle against Valora, Judas Dathan, Hunter Valentyne and Johnny Stylez, and they would win through determination and teamwork.
"Thank God!" Slater exclaimed as he reached the end, bending over and feeling his stomach. He could feel the vomit circulating within, and he was trying to keep it down. Suddenly, a revolting sound dominated the area ... but it didn't come from Slater.
"What in the world...?" Slater pondered as Kronin dealt with his own bout of dizziness, looking towards the location of the noise. Searching around the corner, Slater discovered a wax figure leaning over a barrel, and once again, the regurgitation sound played again. This time, Slater witnessed the figure puke into the barrel, a sight that made him turn away.
"That's disgusting..."
"Maybe they built that for you to throw up in too?" Kronin theorized, studying where the substance was going inside the barrel.
"I've had enough of this place," Slater clarified, finding it ironic that he was the one who had suggested this as an explorative activity. "At least we're at the end ... I hope..."
"It looks like it," Kronin confirmed, pointing towards a miniature model of Chicago inside the wall. It was protected by a security cage, and in front of the cage was a large red button. Deciding to get the festivities over with, Kronin pressed the button with his hand, making the same narrator from before congratulate their triumphant completion of the Funhouse Maze. Afterwards, animated fireworks exploded behind the model, emphasising their celebratory victory which Slater and Kronin drearily stared at.
"We might not be trapeze artists in a circus ... we might not be synchronized swimmers ... we might not become the greatest Tag Team in the world, even if we're great wrestlers respectively ... but what I can say for certain ... is that we completed the Amazing Chicago Funhouse Maze."
"What an achievement..." Kronin responded, echoing Slater's weary tone. "But do you know what will be better?"
"Winning the NEW World Tag Team Championships on Sunday?" Slater answered.
"That is the correct answer, my friend."
"At least we're on the same page..." Slater chuckled, dealing with his crutch as he finally took his eyes off the model of Chicago. Several signs directed them to the exit, an exit that both of them desperately wanted to get to.
"But overall, that was rather interesting for a tutorial session. It wasn't exhilarating, but it certainly made us work together in an entertaining way."
"Indeed. In hindsight, I should have picked something less..."
"Annoying?" Kronin interrupted. "Don't worry about it. We definitely got the ball rolling."
"Agreed. Now let's get out of here."
Travelling through the remaining corridors, Slater and Kronin eventually found themselves at the entrance to the building, but on the opposite side. The woman from before was still
"Did you enjoy your time in there?" the woman asked. Kronin smiled and nodded affirmatively.
"It was quite the learning experience."
"Ah, so you paid attention to the narrator too?"
"I wasn't referring to the narrator..." Kronin confirmed. Her confused response made Slater smile; she might not have known what Kronin meant, but Slater certainly did. Not only would their skills complement each other, but they were on their way to becoming a team that would give their opponents a surprise on Sunday.
Walking outside the building, Slater and Kronin tolerated the change in temperature as they visualized the pleasant afternoon scenery. It didn't take long for uncertainty to set in, and it wasn't related to the circumstances surrounding their upcoming match.
"So ... what now?"
Slater glanced at Kronin, waiting for him to answer.
"If teamwork is what we're starting to build, then I have my own idea."
"Will it be more interesting than this?" Slater chuckled, humorously competing with Kronin to see who could have the most enthralling activity.
"Maybe..." Kronin shrugged. "It depends what we do when we get there."
After taking a few steps forward, Kronin gestured for Slater to follow his lead, keeping his intended exercise in mind. As Slater collected his crutch, he listened to the passing laughter originating from a group of children, currently enjoying their day on the Pier with their parents. Their joyous sounds made Slater think back to what Kronin said earlier, doing so as he watched them skip by without a care in the world.
"They might have gotten the last laugh at Kamikaze ... but once this revolutionary war is said and done, we'll be laughing the loudest."
Motivated beyond belief, Slater was determined to make those words come true, overcoming the seemingly-insurmountable odds in order to purify the tainted values of New Edge Wrestling and having the last laugh at the Styles Mafia's expense.
With instinctive precision, the agonized male released his hand from one of the supportive chains, hastily unhooking the briefcase that would grant him a supreme opportunity at Justice 5. And as he fell upon the steel grating of the third tier, the timekeeper's bell chimed decisively, putting an end to the punishing contest. One flustered breath later, the triumphant individual weakly hugged the briefcase at his crimson-coloured chest, digesting the resounding words of Tom Davis in a state of weariness and relief.
"Here is your Terrordome Five Winner ... MATT SLATER!"
The exhausted victor had been made clear; visually and vocally. Matt Slater had torturously redeemed his past mistakes, surviving against the odds to legitimize his chances of winning the NEW World Heavyweight Championship at Justice 5. It might have taken one perfectly-timed dropkick to wipe out Hunter Valentyne and Valora simultaneously, causing them to collide with a section of the Terrordome that was covered in hidden C4 explosives, but his lethal battle to the pinnacle of the structure had made this aerial move hard to establish and successfully complete, especially when there was no room for error.
His brutalized knee was numbed and swollen. His back was again pulsating with tremendous pain. His face was masked in blood, courtesy of the skin being lacerated and ripped open from barbed wire. But despite these inflicted disabilities, Slater courageously persisted.
It wasn't just a desire to win the Terrordome. It was a necessity.
The future of New Edge Wrestling relied on his determined fortitude, a future that would be built upon his heroic representation for the betterment of the company. Inkt might have been the catalyst for positive change, but Slater was prepared to purify the organization's values that Inkt would bring forward as the World Heavyweight Champion.
Managing to climb down to the first tier of the Terrordome, Slater reacquainted with his befriended allies. Ryan Omega was understandably delirious after his sacrificial dive onto Patrick Jones from a twenty-foot ladder, a move that sent both men crashing down to the distant floor, eradicating their chances of conquering the demonic chamber. Scarlet had suffered second-degree burns but she was coping with the excruciating sensation, tending to Omega as her blistered back grotesquely worsened. Each of them would never forget the stench of blood, burnt flesh and explosive residue, but at that moment, they were all proud of their cohesive teamwork.
Kamikaze should have ended with United celebrating in unison, gloriously bringing closure to the positively-received event. Unfortunately, there was a surprise in the works that would change the landscape of NEW forever, a startling revelation that would begin with five familiar words.
"Reach out and touch faith!"
Al Envy's return sparked further excitement from the enthralled fans in attendance, having been medically evaluated and released from the hospital. His announced hospitalization had been the story of the night, creating a sentimental movement which had swept across the entire world. Happy tears and joyful reactions erased the sadistic atmosphere of the evening, letting Envy know that were always in support of him during the malicious festivities.
Slater and the others were glad to see him back. Once he joined them inside the Terrordome, they could properly end the night on a high note. Inkt was the new World Heavyweight Champion, Slater had won the Terrordome, and Envy had mostly recovered from his concerning condition. Although there were signs of depleted energy and weakness, illustrated by his cautious movements and mannerisms, Envy still appeared relatively strong. After Envy had helped Slater to his feet and embraced Scarlet, it was evidently clear that this would be a moment for the world to praise and cheerfully memorize.
But then ... it happened.
Without provocation or suspicious foresight, Envy pulled Scarlet into a tight facelock, a competitor whose exhaustion had left her defenceless against his contemplated attack. Confusion and alarm riddled the Tokyo Dome as Envy powerfully lifted Scarlet into a vertical position, and once she was dropped onto her head, knocked unconscious from the mastered Brainbuster, silence became the background noise for the building to shockingly savour.
With one shocking GBE, he had physically emphasised his dark intentions. He had dishonoured his loyal promises. He had tarnished his vows. He had turned his back on the wholehearted qualities of United, cementing his traitorous actions with a wicked smile as he looked towards the perpetrators of this heinous assault.
The Styles Mafia.
Numbed and mortified, the audience continued to witness their hero gloat and posture arrogantly, rejuvenated by the evilness that had once again corrupted him. They had mourned solemnly over the news of his hospitalization and medical diagnosis. They had shared their sentimental wishes and compassionate prayers, hoping that he would fully recover and come back stronger than ever. They had paid homage to a man who personified passion and desire. The entire PPV had been dedicated to him, and he had used their gullible emotions to feed his ego and make his alignment with the Mafia even more memorable.
All of the arm bands, all of the motivational signs, all of the video packages ... they had meant absolutely nothing.
Slater didn't know if Envy's condition had been made up as a manipulation scheme, pulling the wool over everyone's eyes with false reports and heart-wrenching details. He didn't know if Envy had legitimately suffered something miniscule in his hotel room, altering the plans of the Styles Mafia and making them use an exploitation tactic instead. All he knew was that Envy's deceptive role had been fulfilled ... and United weren't going to take this betrayal lightly.
He was going to pay for his treacherous transgressions, and the rest of the Styles Mafia were going to feel the wrath of a unit invigorated by passionate revenge.
"Deep in thought again?"
Leaning against the protective barrier that bordered the Navy Pier, a constructed extension of the Chicago shoreline that moved residents and tourists further into Lake Michigan, Kronin and Slater surveyed the numerous boats that were docked nearby. It used to be pier that facilitated cargo freighters, but now it was one of Chicago's attractive hot spots for entertainment, featuring functional amusements, arcades and other fun activities. Lilly and Falcon weren't present, conducting their activities elsewhere. Kronin had been the one to speak, conveying the urge to talk with his United ally instead of standing around awkwardly, viewing the sights of the Windy City in silence.
"I'll take that as a yes," Kronin continued, having not received a reply from his United companion.
"Sorry..." Slater apologized, sighing as he adjusted his lenient posture. "I just can't get what Al Envy did out of my mind."
"No one expected that to occur, my friend," Kronin clarified. "Not you, not me ... not the entire world for that matter."
"But we should have seen it coming."
"The Americans should have seen the attack on Pearl Harbour coming ... but did they?"
Kronin's logic was indisputable, something which Slater accepted with a nod of his head. He had already published a speech on regrets in relation to the Terrordome Match before Kamikaze. He mentioned that mistakes and tragedies were inevitable. Kronin's rhetorical question matched those philosophical statements. It was rather ironic that Kronin used a reference to the Japanese strikes after the duo had departed Japan, but the sentence had served its purpose in identifying lack of foresight and vulnerability.
"They might have gotten the last laugh at Kamikaze ... but once this revolutionary war is said and done, we'll be laughing the loudest."
A cold breeze brushed against the pair from the east, causing Kronin to adjust his jacket. This was also an indication for the duo to move, locating a building that would offer sufficient warmth and comfort.
"Anyway..." Slater said, moving away from the barrier as the passing breeze culminated. "It's time to stop thinking about the past. It's time to move forward and enjoy ourselves."
"Enjoy ourselves?" Kronin said, raising an eyebrow in befuddlement. "I thought we were here to discuss our strategies for Ignite?"
Slater and Kronin had been scheduled to compete in a Three Way Tag Team Match for the NEW World Tag Team Championships; a bemusing prospect given that Kronin and Slater had never been a team before. They had not even collaborated on anything that much since Slater joined United. There had been discussions between the two regarding their histories and interests, but they had never been in a situation that relied on their chemistry and effectiveness as a team to win a wrestling match.
The similarities between the two men had already been established, yet their comparisons would be tested in a collective environment. Individually, they were technically-gifted athletes. Both were European with varying backgrounds and lifestyles, but their abilities remained the same. However, the combination of their strengths and personable qualities had not been experimented upon. Without practice and communication, they would struggle to get the advantage.
Luckily, both of them were experienced in a Tag Team field, developing skills that would benefit each other in the long run. The problem was that were contending with Hunter Valentyne and Johnny Stylez, a tandem that were extremely proficient as a methodical unit. Valora and Judas Dathan made up the other team, and the relationship between the two had been fierce since the beginning.
"That can wait," Slater replied. "I've become complacent with boredom lately. It's time to start having fun."
Having grown tired of roaming around the same places in a depressive stupor, Slater had sworn to himself that he would start having more fun. Not only would it combat his depression, but it would help him socialize more often and acquaint himself with different people.
"So that's why you invited me here..." Kronin said, studying the Navy Pier with a keen eye. "I suppose we could ease ourselves with a few games."
"Actually ... I have a better idea in mind. It's a game of sorts, but it'll be rather useful for us at the same time. It's further up the Pier."
"I suppose we should get a move on then."
Collecting his crutch, Slater took hold of the supportive implement and limped along the Pier. His knee had become quite the problem since leaving Japan, but the doctors had assured him that he would be good to go on Sunday. Kronin followed slowly, acknowledging the glances he was getting from the children who were mesmerized by his towering appearance. The duo did stop to sign autographs and take photographs on occasion, but they didn't hate wasting their time conversing with the general public and pleasing the children.
Eventually, Slater stopped outside the place he wanted to experience. Kronin read the colourful sign aloud.
"Amazing Chicago's Funhouse Maze...?"
"Come on, it'll be fun."
"But isn't this designed for the young ones?" Kronin debated. "I'm not exactly small..."
"It's also for families and couples," Slater said, smiling as he did so. After Kronin shuffled on the spot, embarrassed by the notion of exploring the confines of this maze, he sighed with acceptance.
"I can't wait to see the expressions on their faces..."
Walking steadily into the building, Slater and Kronin headed towards the payment counter. The young woman standing on the other side stared in awe at their appearance, hardly moving from her frozen position.
"Hello there," Slater said, beginning his speech with a polite introduction. "We'd like to go into the Funhouse Maze please."
Being unable to comprehend the fact that these two celebrities wanted to spend their leisure time in the maze, the woman blinked considerably. Finally she flinched, snapping out of her awkward trance.
"Of course! But ... why...?"
"That's a good question..." Kronin agreed, turning his attention to Slater. "Why are we going into the Funhouse Maze, Matt?"
"Because it's a fun activity that takes teamwork to complete, Kronin," Slater replied, continuing to smile.
"In your condition?" the woman mused, pointing at Slater's visible knee brace and the crutch he was using.
"There's no rush to complete the maze, is there?"
"Not ... really..."
"Then I should be fine," Slater declared, fishing out some dollar notes from his pocket. "This will be enough to pay for the both of us."
"Ahem..." Kronin interjected, taking out some of his own notes. "I believe I will pay the full amount."
"So you're not going to accept my kindness? German's and their stubbornness..."
Kronin smirked at Slater as the latter chuckled.
"Englishmen and their unneeded generosity..." Kronin replied, slamming his notes onto the table.
"Touché..." Slater agreed, filtering his share and slamming those notes onto the table as well. The woman looked between both men before she gathered up the money.
"Thank you!" she confirmed eccentrically, beaming with happiness at having serviced Slater and Kronin at the same time. "The door to the Maze is on the left. Enjoy yourselves in there!"
"Oh we will..." Kronin replied with a tone of eeriness, lightly pushing Slater towards the access point without his consent, causing him to hobble on his legs tentatively. Kronin forced the door open and guided Slater inside the corridor beyond. Once the door shut, Kronin focused his attention on Slater.
"I need a better answer than what you gave, Matt. It's not that I'm against mazes. In fact one of the things I learned in the military was how to navigate difficult terrain without a compass, so this should be fairly simple. It's just that this type of game confuses me."
"Here's my explanation," Slater said, leaning back against the brick wall. "We need to adapt to certain situations and expect the unexpected if we're going to stay strong as a team. This maze is an example of that. There's different stuff in there that we need to react to and solve."
"So it's basically a tutorial for us, to test the waters so to speak."
"Precisely," Slater replied, accepting Kronin's hypothesis. "Both teams will try and damage us with mind games and bizarre strategies. We need to be prepared for those possibilities."
"You have a point," Kronin conceded. "I've dealt with Valora before ... as you're well aware. But this match will open up several avenues that we'll need to watch out for."
"Absolutely," Slater confirmed. "So ... ready to go in?"
"Well I've already paid," Kronin said. "And to be honest, I don't feel like getting my money back."
Journeying through a rainbow-coloured tunnel, Slater and Kronin reached an elevator. A luminous sign on the wall instructed the visitors to use the elevator, which would take them into Chicago's underground.
"That's got to be a lie..." Kronin said. "Unless this genuinely goes into the ocean, I'm not buying it."
"It doesn't," Slater explained. "It's one of those motorized contraptions that make you feel like you're descending."
"That makes sense."
Upon entering the fake elevator, Slater initiated the mini-ride by using the glowing panel. The buttons flashed rhythmically as the doors behind them closed, starting the process of the elevator. Meanwhile Slater caressed his knee, a tender action that Kronin acknowledged.
"For your sake, this maze better not have an obstacle course..."
"I doubt it does..." Slater replied, momentarily scanning his knee brace again. The floor vibrated under their feet as the elevator began to falsely plummet. "Otherwise they wouldn't have let me in."
"She did question your condition," Kronin postulated, referring to the woman behind the counter. "And I know from just looking at you that the Terrordome did a number on your health."
Keeping his eyes focused on the flashing elevator numbers, Slater relived the moment when he unhooked the briefcase. It was a truly remarkable accomplishment to cherish ... but then the steroid issue crept up, clouding his mind and making him frown responsively.
Slater had spent considerable time staring at the blood-smeared briefcase in his hotel room, silently reflecting on the Terrordome Match. One half of his mind was gratified by the victory ... but the other side was concerned with the illegal measures of his success. Whilst one half applauded his skilful efforts, the other countered with criticisms, questioning the ignorance of his idolized values and how he had attained the briefcase. Despite his joy, Slater couldn't neglect the objectifications, and as Slater rubbed the metallic surface of the briefcase with his fingers, a feeling of guilt-ridden sorrow began to emerge.
He estimated whether the result would have been different if he Falcon hadn't put steroids into his water bottles two weeks ago. He contemplated whether he would have won under the same circumstances, or if an alternate chain of events would have led to his disappointing defeat. There was a stubborn willingness to keep the briefcase and its rewarding contents as a possession, but because of his conflictions, there was also a desire to relinquish the prize he had agonizingly earned, citing unfair enhancement treatment as his cause for the vacancy.
He wanted to lie through his teeth and mask the hypocritical procedures he had used ... but he also wanted to be truthful, explaining the situation to the world.
As much as it hurt him to do, Slater decided to keep the briefcase. It wasn't because he couldn't admit that he had unknowingly taken the steroids. It was because he didn't want the Styles Mafia to win. Besides, he wasn't ingesting any more of the banned substances, so the effects were diluting over time.
"Again, I'll be fine..." Slater commented. "Knowing I shut Hunter up about winning the Terrordome keeps me going. Of course, he'll come up with another excuse that it didn't prove anything, but this week, I'll have something in store for him. How about you?"
"Ray Andrews did a number on me too," Kronin admitted, having lost the NEW Television Championship to the former military man at Kamikaze. "But I'm not done with him ... or Jesse Styles. They're expecting me to retaliate because of the way that match ended, but I'll bide my time. Both of them are on borrowed time, that's for sure."
"That's how I feel about Hunter and Johnny holding the Tag Team Championships," Slater confessed.
"I appreciate the confidence," Kronin replied.
"Hey, if we plan to win, we'll need that."
The elevator jolted to a stop after Slater had uttered those words, even though they hadn't realistically moved at all. The metallic doors in front of them then opened, revealing another corridor.
"Ready?"
"You first, my friend."
Slater accepted Kronin's suggestion for him to lead the way, manoeuvring out of the make-shift elevator with the support of his crutch. Numerous signs covered the bare brick walls as they toured the premises, eventually arriving at a dark room with green and red lights circling the interior. Strobe lights were also present, flashing at random intervals to disorientate the players.
"This must be what Johnny sees when he's on hallucinogenic drugs..." Slater theorized, analysing the psychedelic scenery of the maze. The walls were made of glass, making it much more difficult to navigate. "I feel like I'm already lost, and I'm at the doorway."
"Keep moving forward," Kronin instructed, moving past Slater. The atmosphere of the room quickly smothered him, but Kronin seemed to concentrate on the floor, not looking at anything else.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking for tracks..." Kronin said, naturally utilizing his survival training to accomplish the task of finding his way through.
"We're not in the jungle searching for hostile forces," Slater responded. "The footprints will be all over the place."
"Yes but if we can find the paths that have been used the most, we'll reach the exit."
"You're really getting into this," Slater said fondly, amused at Kronin's intricate, organizational skills.
"When you're on the verge of starvation and lost in an unknown land without a map, you tend to pick up on these things fairly quickly."
"At least you have a sense of direction ... unlike Johnny whenever he's driving a car."
Suddenly taking his eyes off the floor, Kronin turned his attention to Slater.
"That reminds me ... Johnny ran over Roger with that car in their match, didn't he?"
"I believe he did," Slater said, approaching Kronin to prevent the duo being split up.
"That's attempted vehicular homicide, isn't it?" Kronin asked. Afterwards he nodded his head, certain that Johnny would pay the penalty for such a felonious crime if it was reported. "Now isn't that interesting..."
Reaching into his pocket, Kronin brought out his phone. The mischievous expression on his face implied that something disastrous was going to occur for the reigning World Tag Team Champions if he got through to the operator of a particular agency that excelled in law enforcement.
"Well let me open up this here phone and dial this here num..."
In the process of pressing the buttons, Kronin was interrupted by Slater covering the phone with his hand. Kronin raised an eyebrow towards Slater, wondering why he prevented this information from being shared with the correct authorities.
"What good would it do?" Slater questioned this time around. "I know prison is the last place Johnny wants to end up in ... again ... but think of the bigger picture. If we incapacitate him with an arrest warrant and leave him stranded, one of our primary goals will be invalidated."
"How do you figure?"
"By playing them at their own game ... we'll be acting just the way they do. They'd expect us to weaken the structure of the Styles Mafia by eliminating Johnny from the equation with this kind of deal. Then if we manage to succeed, they'll start making excuses."
"That doesn't surprise me..." Kronin said. "Hunter is notorious for it."
"However, those excuses will actually be logical arguments," Slater continued. "If we did win without Johnny being present, forcing Hunter to get a replacement partner, we never truly won. We didn't officially take out the leading duo that held the belts in the first place."
Kronin contemplated Slater's words for a brief moment.
"You actually have a decent point there."
"Johnny being incarcerated won't do them any favours. That's something I can admit. But here's where we can really get under their skin. If he's not incriminated, they'll suffer the greatest humiliation of all."
"Far worse than Johnny dropping the soap on his first night?" Kronin humorously stated.
"Probably..." Slater pondered. "In hindsight, that might be worse, but I'm not sure if it's worse than Johnny getting slapped with a handful of sperm, or being broadcast on TMZ in a provocative position, tenderly groping Hunter's..."
Abruptly finalizing his disturbing thoughts, Slater shuddered and exhaled. After cleansing and re-organizing his train of thought, Slater continued.
"Here's my point. Domestik Disturbance has been a recurring team for over two years. They've won the World Tag Team Championships twice. Imagine two people who have never teamed up before, who have no solid chemistry at this moment in time, defeating them in their first championship defence. That will send them over the edge and decrease their confidence."
"And on top of that, they'll start making mistakes because of their frustration," Kronin clarified.
"That's how they'll eventually crumble. Their minds will formulate irrational decisions in order to get one over on us. Hunter will start making challenges that will dig him deeper into the ground. Johnny will go ballistic with his shovel, swinging at anything and everything. They'll be pulling at straws, but they'll always grab the short ones."
"And when they make those mistakes, we'll capitalize on their errors."
"And so will end the existence of the self-proclaimed "Greatest Tag Team in NEW History". Although ... I do have to question the authenticity of that phrase. According to the history books, they've only had four Tag Team matches during their tenure ... if you don't count Stables Wars at World War X."
"Let's see if you can remember them," Kronin said, examining Slater's memory.
"Well, they lost to Ryan Pugh and Inkt first, better known as Tat n Fat. Then, they won the World Tag Team Championships for the first time when the Business was formed, a match that I was in. So in other words, they basically won the belts by default when Ryan Pugh and Roger Wright let them win. Roger was my partner and he struck me with a shovel, but I digress. Then, they defeated Al Envy and Chester, who wasn't exactly fit to compete at that time, and in their most recent affair, they defeated Al Envy and Inkt using underhanded tactics to win the belts for the second time."
"And yet they were inducted into the Tag Team Hall of Fame?"
"I know, right? It blows my mind."
Kronin looked at the phone again, now that Slater had moved his hand away.
"Do you want to know something funny?"
"What?" Slater lightly questioned.
"I wasn't even going to call anyone. I was just changing the screen functions to see the floor better."
Aiming the phone towards the floor and moving forward at the same time, Kronin caught a distinct amount of prints.
"Here we go..."
"Isn't that classed as cheating?" Slater mused. "If you want to be like Hunter and Johnny, be my guest."
Sighing, Kronin placed the phone back into his pocket.
"Okay, we'll do things by the book. If the Styles Mafia had to go through this, they'd take a shortcut by storming through the glass."
Kronin and Slater went deeper into the maze, remaining wary of the directions they were taking in case they got lost. Throughout their experiences, a narrator revealed several details that summarized the history of Chicago, but Slater and Kronin ignored the voice. They soon developed a tolerance for their unsettling surroundings, managing to find their way to the other side after some trial and error.
"Well that was ... fascinating..." Kronin murmured.
"It's not over yet," Slater said, pointing towards a path that they needed to squeeze through to get into the next room. The sides were padded with rubber, helping the adults compress the material with their weight.
"Are you serious? I won't be able to fit through that!"
"Oh you'll be fine..." Slater assessed, moving towards the peculiar obstacle. Lifting up his crutch, Slater held his breath as he side-stepped through the thin gap, absorbing the pain in his knee as he balanced on his legs. The path was actually a tight fit, which didn't surprise Slater in the slightest; assuming anything would be simple in this type of environment was a cause for trouble.
Making it to the other side, Slater rested on his crutch again as Kronin took his turn.
"Was zum teufel..." Kronin announced in German, sounding stern at the complications of the rubber pathway. Once he reached the half-way point, a foreseeable problem arose.
"Matt ... I'm stuck..."
"Press yourself against the wall."
"What do you think I've been doing for the past thirty seconds?" Kronin said, informing Slater that he had attempted to soften his predicament to no avail. Shaking his head, Kronin grunted as he wrenched his body to the side, but this only made matters worse.
"Damn it! Get me out of this mess!"
Not wanting to stand by whilst his partner struggled to break free, Slater grabbed a hold of his arm and began to pull. Kronin moved along with the torque, and after a few moments he was free. Unfortunately, the suddenness of his freedom made Kronin lose his balance, collapsing onto Slater and making him land hard on his back.
"I told you it was designed for children..." Kronin said as he stood up, helping Slater back to his feet.
"Remind me never to go in here again..." Slater announced, feeling his back after sustaining the brunt of the fall. Kronin gathered up his crutch and handed it to Slater, taking some time to recuperate before they ventured towards the next task.
"So what are we supposed to do now?"
"It's on the floor..." Slater clarified, having discovered the computerized tiles. The graphical instructions exposed the point of the game: to stomp out the great Chicago fire that had been documented in many news bulletins after the monumental disaster. There was also a time-limit in place, meaning that Slater and Kronin had to react as quickly possible to eliminate the raging inferno.
"So we're essentially playing Dance Dance Revolution..." Slater said, referencing the popularized game.
"I'll stand over here, and you stand over there," Kronin commanded, creating a method that would put out the flames successfully.
Once the interactive game started, Kronin and Slater instantly went into action. Their stomping motions resounded off the tiles, with Slater using his good leg only. The flames moved from side to side, but it didn't take long for the screen to be cleared. A text-box congratulated their efforts, beckoning them to move on to the next location.
"I don't recall putting out fires like that in the military," Kronin said. "We usually used water or foam extinguishers."
"Did you at least picture them being Jesse Styles' face?" Slater joked. This was supposed to make Kronin laugh, but he shrugged dismissively.
"It did make me think of something though..."
"What would that be?"
"Valora and Judas Dathan, believe it or not."
"How did you come to that conclusion?" Slater asked curiously.
"Well first I pictured the flames burning down Chicago, and somehow I started to think of the enragement that burns within Valora's heart. She truly wanted to win the Terrordome, and you put a stop to that."
Slater nodded, recalling the moment where Valora was forced off the scaffold by Hunter Valentyne due to his loss of equilibrium. Despite her nose being broken by Scarlet earlier in the contest, Valora fought with all of her might to reach the third tier, wanting to solidify her placement in the Main Event of Justice 5. One C4 explosion later, Valora's chances had gone up in smoke.
"Now her anger will fester until the time is right to unleash it ... but then I thought of Judas Dathan, her tag team partner. Valora and Judas are combustible elements. There's been a history of bitterness and aggression between the two, and now they'll combine those qualities together in the worst way. Instead of taking their rage out on each other, they'll spread their enragement amongst everyone else, punishing them with uncontrollable fury."
Slater nodded slowly, impressed by Kronin's perception of their unstable partnership.
"But with that being said, there's a concern that they might not be able to get along. They'll lose control and want to destroy their foes, but will that be good for the team overall?"
"Trust me, I know what Judas Dathan is capable of," Slater replied. "He was the one who dislocated my shoulder with a Kimura Lock in ACW. I had no choice but to tap out. He deserved the win on that night after countering my moves, but this is another occasion, and he hasn't exactly been the same since December. As for Valora ... she punished me inside the Terrordome. I felt her passion and desire in a negative sense, and I do respect her abilities. But if they want to win this match, they need to co-exist, just like me and you ...or Hunter and Johnny."
"That's my point," Kronin confirmed. "Valora and Judas are ruthless inside the ring on their own, but in a tag team environment, they'll have to rely on each other to gain the victory."
"Well, I'm confident we'll diminish their acts of vengeance before they sprout forth..." Slater announced, stepping away from the technological tiles on the floor. Kronin did the same as he surveyed the premises, wanting to know where they had to go next.
"If it comes down to it, I'll deal with Valora, and you deal with Judas. Since we're familiar with their tactics and strengths, we should be able to handle their attacks and counter them efficiently."
"Well I have defeated Judas five times in my career. He's fighting to equal that record, but he still needs three victories to attain that goal."
After scanning the area, Slater and Kronin walked towards the final tunnel of the establishment; a tunnel that had a spinning background to cause dizziness and nausea along the way.
"That looks fun..." Slater said sarcastically, trying to maintain his composure.
"Ideally, it's best to look at the floor of the tunnel," Kronin suggested. "But we'll still be able to detect the spinning."
"Let's just go for it..."
Slater and Kronin moved through the tunnel, valiantly attempting to resist the animated screens. But the further they advanced, the worse the sensation became.
"Come on, Matt. You can do it."
Kronin's motivational speech inspired Slater to continue, persisting against the nauseating effects. It would be just like Sunday. No matter what trouble Slater or Kronin were in, they would watch each other's backs. They would continue to battle against Valora, Judas Dathan, Hunter Valentyne and Johnny Stylez, and they would win through determination and teamwork.
"Thank God!" Slater exclaimed as he reached the end, bending over and feeling his stomach. He could feel the vomit circulating within, and he was trying to keep it down. Suddenly, a revolting sound dominated the area ... but it didn't come from Slater.
"What in the world...?" Slater pondered as Kronin dealt with his own bout of dizziness, looking towards the location of the noise. Searching around the corner, Slater discovered a wax figure leaning over a barrel, and once again, the regurgitation sound played again. This time, Slater witnessed the figure puke into the barrel, a sight that made him turn away.
"That's disgusting..."
"Maybe they built that for you to throw up in too?" Kronin theorized, studying where the substance was going inside the barrel.
"I've had enough of this place," Slater clarified, finding it ironic that he was the one who had suggested this as an explorative activity. "At least we're at the end ... I hope..."
"It looks like it," Kronin confirmed, pointing towards a miniature model of Chicago inside the wall. It was protected by a security cage, and in front of the cage was a large red button. Deciding to get the festivities over with, Kronin pressed the button with his hand, making the same narrator from before congratulate their triumphant completion of the Funhouse Maze. Afterwards, animated fireworks exploded behind the model, emphasising their celebratory victory which Slater and Kronin drearily stared at.
"We might not be trapeze artists in a circus ... we might not be synchronized swimmers ... we might not become the greatest Tag Team in the world, even if we're great wrestlers respectively ... but what I can say for certain ... is that we completed the Amazing Chicago Funhouse Maze."
"What an achievement..." Kronin responded, echoing Slater's weary tone. "But do you know what will be better?"
"Winning the NEW World Tag Team Championships on Sunday?" Slater answered.
"That is the correct answer, my friend."
"At least we're on the same page..." Slater chuckled, dealing with his crutch as he finally took his eyes off the model of Chicago. Several signs directed them to the exit, an exit that both of them desperately wanted to get to.
"But overall, that was rather interesting for a tutorial session. It wasn't exhilarating, but it certainly made us work together in an entertaining way."
"Indeed. In hindsight, I should have picked something less..."
"Annoying?" Kronin interrupted. "Don't worry about it. We definitely got the ball rolling."
"Agreed. Now let's get out of here."
Travelling through the remaining corridors, Slater and Kronin eventually found themselves at the entrance to the building, but on the opposite side. The woman from before was still
"Did you enjoy your time in there?" the woman asked. Kronin smiled and nodded affirmatively.
"It was quite the learning experience."
"Ah, so you paid attention to the narrator too?"
"I wasn't referring to the narrator..." Kronin confirmed. Her confused response made Slater smile; she might not have known what Kronin meant, but Slater certainly did. Not only would their skills complement each other, but they were on their way to becoming a team that would give their opponents a surprise on Sunday.
Walking outside the building, Slater and Kronin tolerated the change in temperature as they visualized the pleasant afternoon scenery. It didn't take long for uncertainty to set in, and it wasn't related to the circumstances surrounding their upcoming match.
"So ... what now?"
Slater glanced at Kronin, waiting for him to answer.
"If teamwork is what we're starting to build, then I have my own idea."
"Will it be more interesting than this?" Slater chuckled, humorously competing with Kronin to see who could have the most enthralling activity.
"Maybe..." Kronin shrugged. "It depends what we do when we get there."
After taking a few steps forward, Kronin gestured for Slater to follow his lead, keeping his intended exercise in mind. As Slater collected his crutch, he listened to the passing laughter originating from a group of children, currently enjoying their day on the Pier with their parents. Their joyous sounds made Slater think back to what Kronin said earlier, doing so as he watched them skip by without a care in the world.
"They might have gotten the last laugh at Kamikaze ... but once this revolutionary war is said and done, we'll be laughing the loudest."
Motivated beyond belief, Slater was determined to make those words come true, overcoming the seemingly-insurmountable odds in order to purify the tainted values of New Edge Wrestling and having the last laugh at the Styles Mafia's expense.