Chapter 3: Semi-Charmed Life

~CHRISTIAN~

If Edge and Christian were asked to jot down how their typical everyday life is shaped, they'd be confident they could summarize it in precisely twelve words. The essay would go as such:

Wake up. Seek work. Work. Go to wrestle. Wrestle. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

That was the crayons and cardboard paper version, at least; that's if they spared varying details such as going to the gym or calling Grandma Edna or sending a letter to Mom, or the occasional hanging out with their coworkers. But those twelve words were the bare essentials. It was the foundation of their life.

Today was looking to be no different. Yesterday's events were only an exception to their routine. If anything, last night promised the foreseeable future would be even more mundane for the brothers – having seen their two closest friends off to travel their own roads, Edge and Christian couldn't be sure when they'd be close enough again to terrorize another fairground. Or go on any other romp to break up the monotony.

Hopefully it'd be sooner than later. Hopefully this area was like the last one, and Edge and Christian could score enough gigs to rake up the cash to do that again, even just for themselves. It'd also be nice to afford better food than just Timmies's or AW or convenience store snacks more often. How they keep their toned physiques on their small diet of junk food is a minor miracle in the lives of the Cage brothers.

And hopefully this train of thought could just stop repeating itself, as Christian was growing ever tired of them having little else but those factoids of their situation to tell Grandma Edna.

"… Yeah, Grammy, it was just like old times when you used to take us! Just with more violence. I guess… uh huh… yyup, Chris and Rhyno are off to the races now… well you know, we're back to the usual, nothing we haven't said before… uh huh, your old girl's still kicking… for now…"

With Edge's voice droning on, Christian occupied his time waiting by checking himself out in the faint reflection of the phone booth. He decided today was a day for the sunglasses he'd named 'the Big Bad Blue-doo Daddies' to get some love. Simple things amused simple minds. He had to derive some enjoyment from Edge hogging Grandma Edna's attention. Which was why he was also striking exaggerated poses and faces while he was at it; to his amusement he could see Edge gradually failing to keep his concentration on the conversation. Soon enough his older brother was leaning out the booth with a pissy expression.

"Okay Madonna - can you stop?"

One hand on his hip in another pose, Christian's lifted his free hand to flip Edge off. "Sit on it and rotate."

Had Edge not been on the phone Christian could have expected a slap. Instead Edge surprised him, turning his attention back to Edna with, "Well, Grammy, Chris is right here – no, not Jericho! Christian! Alright – talk to you soon – love you! Bye! -"

Edge all but shoved Christian into the phone booth, thrusting the phone upon him. Ha-ha! At last! Christian was glowing as he finally got to talk to his favorite grandmother. "Hey Grandma Edna! It's been awhile! How are doing?…"

Grandma Edna had not gotten any less loud since they last talked – Christian jerked the phone to a safer distance as her raspy voice barked. "Well! I ain't no spring chicken anymore but I haven't been carted off to a home yet! Caught myself last night before I left the oven on and almost burned this pigsty down! Ha-haah!" A nasty cough cut her short.

"Err, well, uh, th-that's good – uh – I really hope you're joking - em - that cough sounds bad though, have you been? -"

"OH IT'S FINE! I'm talking and breathing, ain't I? -"

"Yeah, sure, but -"

"Ahh, I already told your brother about it! Anyway! I hope he kicks ass in his match tonight! Better send me some photos in your next letter!"

"Uh, that might be hard if I'm also in that match -"

"OH! Well I hope you do too. Anyway! As much as I'd love it to that lawn won't mow itself! Little punk next door got himself thrown in the pokey again so I have to do the shit work all by myself!"

"Wait don't you want to hear how I totally drilled this one guy in the face last night? You'd have been so proud -"

"Give your brother a hug from me, will you!? -"

"Wait c'mon I got these awesome pair of shades at the fair, you'd love them! I'll send them to you too to add to your collection! -"

"Au revoir, Christy! Love you! -"

Beeep.

"… I love you, too."

And so those parting words heralded the true start of the day.

… Oh, well. Christian would have thought something was wrong if their conversation did go on longer; short, sweet, and to the point was what he convinced himself to be the norm of interaction between him and Grandma Edna… he'd usually have to coax the details out of Edge.

So including what happened last night – there were many things to probe Edge about. Christian was about to open his mouth when he found his brother already heading towards the car.

That car was another minor miracle in their lives, in that it hasn't yet spontaneously combusted. It was a '71 Ford station wagon – which may have a certain nostalgic quality! If it wasn't a rusty hunk of junk that was beat to shit and ready to kick the proverbial bucket. Grandma Edna had only done the minimal amount of maintenance to keep it on the road; it had more problems than the brothers bothered to count, and it's mileage was drifting dangerously close to it's projected lifespan.

Edna called it Bessy. Bessy was the name stamped on its crusty blue-white license plate. But Edge and Christian usually just called it the shitbox. It was their dear old friend, their home sweet home when all others failed, and their hated enemy.

Christian caught up to Edge as he was opening the door – announced by its rusty squeaking. "She didn't sound too good, did she?…"

"Nnope… but you know her, Christian. 'I've lasted this long! The day I quit is the day it actually kills me off!'" Edge sighed.

Sliding into the passengers seat, Christian's hand grazed the leather pockmarked here and there by burn holes of decades past. He suddenly didn't feel too comfortable with this subject. "Right… and what about Mom? Has she talked to her lately?"

"A few times, yeah. Says she's doing alright. Been thinking about us and all that… Grammy told her she should really get in touch with us soon. But, feh – we'll see if sixth time's the charm!"

So the usual, and the usual. Should Christian really have thought any different? Christian's frown matched Edge's. "I kinda hope Mom keeps giving us the cold shoulder. Like, what do we have to show yet that won't just prove her point? Or make her think we're trying to goad her for money?"

"Exactly. 'Oh look Mom, it's us, your lovely sons, two hobos wrestling for peanuts and living off sodas and gas station chips! This is what we threw away Dad's savings for!' Sounds like both a slap in the face and a cry for help if I've ever heard one." Edge said as he absentmindedly fastened his seatbelt and fiddled with his keychain. He stopped just short of turning the ignition.

"Guess we should've just went to college and been Dad's heirs in the illustrious career of desk jockeying. You know – the job he so totally hated." Noticing his brother's knuckles clench the key, Christian detected another stricken nerve and offered a weak smile. "… I'm joking, dude. At least we're chasing our dreams. It's… it's what Dad would have wanted, right? That's what Grandma Edna -"

"Let's stop talking about Dad. Kay?… No offense, Christian. I shouldn't have mentioned it." Edge spoke this through clenched teeth, closed eyes, yet the funny thing is that his voice held a genuine softness.

So Christian shut up.

Bessy's sputtering engine filled an awkward silence; her exhaust roaring only barely under illegal volume as she took to the streets. Christian leaned his head against the window, arms snuggly crossed. Watched this little downtown bustle under the morning rush. Searching for any signs on the buildings, any point of interest that might garner some sort of possibility of an odd job for two broke dudes. He was still thinking though.

It's not like there was a justification for Edge's behavior last night. Dad? Sure, Christian knew how Edge felt talking about that and was a bit stupid for thinking his reaction now would be any different. The group they got into a brawl with? Yeah – he wasn't surprised it came to blows. Edge wasn't one to get crap flung at him and not go throwing it back.

Gangrel, though… he wondered about. There'd been a total change in Edge's demeanor as soon as Gangrel came into the scene. Jericho and Rhyno had noticed it as well. Yet Edge had not elaborated a bit as to why – last night nor this morning. Was it because Gangrel said he caused the brawl, however accidental? Was it because the fanged man seemed straight up weird? Christian certainly felt an odd air about Gangrel but has since passed it off as first impressions. Being judgmental. Or even exhausted from the earlier incident. Edge could be that petty - he's seen it. But this seemed different. Christian felt it ran deeper.

"So… what was your beef with that Gangrel guy last night?"

"Huh?"

"That Gangrel guy?" Christian repeated, taking his head off the window to watch his sibling. "Sunglasses, leather jacket – and the fangs, can't forget those? You were like, acting totally weird when you saw him?"

That same stony expression graced Edge's face. "That? That was nothing. Just a little ticked off after that whole fight and whatever."

"Acting like you've already met the guy before is nothing?" Pried the younger brother; he saw Edge roll his eyes. Bingo. "Jericho and Rhyno both agree you seemed like you saw a ghost."

And Edge replied, "Yeah, it was nothing. I met him before but it wasn't any big deal…"

Christian's brows furrowed above his shades. Huh! So they were right! And he finally admits… yet Christian had never met Gangrel before. And the brothers were practically conjoined twins – where the hell was he when this happened? And why had Edge never mentioned it before?

"When was this?"

"When we were like, in the gym, awhile back? Can't remember when. I think you were still in a session with some of the other guys? Anyway, I was taking a break outside when I saw him just hanging around near the building. Don't know why he was there but he eventually walked up to me and tried to… make conversation?" Edge explained. He shook his head slightly, "And… I dunno. He started talking about weird prophetic shit about 'fury' or something."

"Prophetic shit… about fury?"

"I guess so. I didn't read into it too much, my brain sorta shut off when he kept talking."

"Soo… that's it? You don't like him because he talked to you about weird philosophical stuff one day?" It wasn't like Christian didn't believe it – he'd heard Gangrel's cryptic words himself. 'The kind of silent rage that manifests like a poison…' Had he said something similar to Edge? Did it unsettle him so bad to be told very eloquently that he has serious anger issues? As if he hadn't already, by a professional…

"And he fuckin' looks weird, too! Just, just…" Edge paused to think as he combed a free hand through his locks, until it balled into a fist – "He just has a really punchable face. And the way he hangs his mouth open and clicks that tongue piercing around really pisses me off."

Well… that was Edge being Edge, for you. Letting a moment of stunned silence pass, Christian snorted. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Tried his best to stifle a guffaw. Why did he expect more?… why did he still expect a better motive than that? C'mon. He knew his brother…

"But like… you agree, right, bro? Guys' a total creepazoid?"

Christian took a breath and looked back up the road. Hm. Again he thought of the awkward meeting in the parking lot. It wasn't like he disagreed with that.

"Yeah, yeah. Guy's a weirdo."

"That doesn't sound very convincing. Don't tell me you think a dude with a face like that is cool."

"Well, I think you're cool. Despite your huge chin and absurd amount of teeth." Christian grinned. Whatever retort Edge had for him fell on deaf ears, however, as the younger blonde considered whether or not he should confess what Gangrel had said to him. Odd how he'd spoken the same kind of nonsense to both of them. Maybe Edge would go into better detail if Christian did?

Actually – no. He won't. How important is it, really? Not enough for Edge to have mentioned it to him when it happened… so why should Christian? Ten to one the guy was pulling their legs. Being strange for the sake of being strange. What the hell did that monologue even mean? Nothing.

"You know what, though? Apparently he works in the business. Rhyno recognized him – 'The Vampire Warrior' is his ring name. Vaguely remembers him doing a stint in ECW, maybe even WWF a few years back, at one point. I think that's pretty cool."

A grunt. "Really? Small world. Can't say the name rings a bell though. That, or he wasn't memorable enough to ring a bell."

"Doesn't to me either. But he knows the Suicide Blondes. He says we're the most promising young wrestler's he's seen – and that we may or may not just see him tonight." Christian said. Spoken as though that could mean something, instead. It was really just the same as the 'prophetic shit' Gangrel had spewed beforehand. Was he that desperate, that he felt a twinge of pride that a stranger recognized them, complimented them, even a little bit?

If it wasn't for the shitbox's brakes knocking loudly he wouldn't have realized they were already slowing to a stop, pulling off to the sidewalk in what looked to be a residential district. Ah, old reliable. All those cubical lawns! All the repetitive yardwork they could offer! Just like they were twelve again! Edge was not looking forward to it, Christian noted when he turned back.

"Well the Vampire Warrior's lucky he sleeps all day – then he won't see the 'two most promising wrestlers he's seen' reaally livin' the dream by weeding gardens and washing cars to make ends meet!"

~EDGE~

The match was in full swing. Through gritted teeth Edge felt himself smile as a few dozen some-odd voices rose into cheering, the blonde successfully swerving out of the way of the ropes and sending his opponent slamming into his own partner. Edge ignored the ache in his abdomen and stepped back. Watched his opponent's backside, the man leaning over the ropes, before getting back into action by pulling his opponent off. Walked him in a semi-circle, a hand on the small of his back.

Edge's clasp turned to a heave – the dubiously structured ring quaked under his opponent's weight as he was irish whipped into the adjacent ropes. At once he rebounded but Edge ducked. The quaking, a second time around and another duck – Edge shifted his stance on this third time yet before he could think to go further with it he found himself countered, thrown to the ground and struggling against a headlock. Then he was slammed down into a pin.

One – two -

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the ref's hand an inch away from a three when he threw his shoulders up. But his opponent wouldn't let up; he locked Edge down just as he found a chance to roll away. This pressure placed on him further hindered a slow rise off his hands. To his knees. Ultimately moving for a position where he could fully stand and snake out of the hold.

In his focus, Edge barely registered the slow clapping. It came first from one corner; then it grew louder. Multiplied. This got Edge antsy – motivated.

The blonde freed himself in a swift reversal; grasping the opponent's arm, Edge then placed him in a rear chinlock. He soon figured out his brother had been egging on the clapping when Edge turned to see Christian at their corner. His eyes were bright, his smile a sneer, taking a gander at their spectators.

But Christian did not leave his attention off the match. He focused back on his sibling as Edge hauled the other legal combatant closer to their corner. A few subtle gestures were immediately understood, and Christian hopped into the ring. The brother's victim would be lifted up by their combined strength – his feet helplessly touching sky – falling in a suplex that shook the canvas. Edge retreated to his brother's previous post, Christian taking charge of the match.

Edge felt pleasantly fired up now. The noise the small crowd sent throughout the gymnasium made him not really want to stop. He bounced up and down on the bottom rope whilst he watched the two legal competitors dig their heels in to lock up with each other.

Christian was faring well on his own though, going into each move with a certain vigor and flow that made Edge momentarily forget the younger Cage had two years less training than him. This couldn't be punctuated any more than when Christian was thrown into a turnbuckle by the relatively fresh tag partner. He wouldn't stay dazed there long, slipping in-between the ropes just in time to avoid a corner clothesline – and within that same motion he swung his entire body upside down to deliver a pendulum kick! Yet that wasn't the end. As the other man staggered back from the blow Christian sprung off the ropes, dived, and took him down with a crossbody that flowed into a pin attempt. One – two – unsuccessful, but the sequence received a satisfying pop from the crowd. A proud smile tugging his lips, Edge faced the audience to further soak in the reaction.

Maybe it was the humble attendance, or the fact a good portion was made up by teenagers. But Gangrel's face among them stood out like a sore thumb. It was at the very end of the bleachers that lined one wall of the gymnasium where he sat, looking much as he did last night. Fang-filled smile and all.

Well damn.

So Gangrel really did decide to follow them over here.

From what Edge could tell it wasn't a decision made on a good amount of sleep. At least, that's what it looked like when Gangrel propped his raybans to his hairline to give Edge a closer, more specific stare. Or was that eyeliner the man was wearing? Or was he just that ugly? Eh. Edge didn't care to think about it.

Nor did he have time to – when he turned back to the match he noticed Christian reaching desperately for a tag. He was edging towards the corner in protest to a standing sleeper hold. The ropes strained against Edge's weight as he stretched his arm out as far as he could toward his partner. Inches away – the hold tightened... c'mon bro… Christian was faltering, slowing… Edge was practically laying across the top rope…

In a final give of energy, Christian lurched forward. His hand clapped Edge's shaken one. No sooner did their opponent release him, letting Christian collapse to the mat, did big brother come to the rescue and upended him with a spinning heel kick. A rushing shoulder check to the tag partner followed.

His legal competitor did not stay down long, charging Edge with another clothesline – a move the tall blonde swerved under by just a hair. He ran to the other end of the ring. Catapulted off the ropes. Sprint turned to a vicious spear, his fellow wrestler's head whipping to the canvas as he was thrown down. Edge rolled atop and -

1… 2… 3!

The bell rang – it was over. Had they, hopefully, stolen the show? From the applause that rose like a wave through the audience, Edge would like to think they did. As much of a show as a small town high school event could be considered. Idly his mind was already working out what he thought were the pros and cons, how and where they might've done better; he was also wondering how they'll be stretching out the payout for tonight.

Christian was waiting at ringside as Edge slipped out of the ring. Grinning, the brothers shared a high-five as the crowd began to disperse. A small gaggle of teens flocked around the two in a plead for photos. Edge and Christian obliged. As the polaroids of them, all winning smiles and tough guy poses and star-spangled tights, came out, Edge scanned the audience for any more possible admirers.

Once more he locked eyes with Gangrel, who seemed about ready to stroll out the door - though not before sparing one more glance their way. Edge glared. With a soundless snicker, Gangrel turned his back. He was gone within the next moment.


"... you... come back..."

Edge halted so abruptly that his shoes squeaked against the linoleum floor, amplified to a screech by the vacancy of the school hallway. Leaning backwards, he peered down the corridor they'd just passed.

Empty. Nothing but rows of lockers along either wall - splitting into two directions at the very end, a corkboard of flyers and announcements at the intersection.

Yet he swore he heard somebody there.

"Hey, you good?" Joe E. Legend said. Edge turned back, seeing his friend as well as Christian had stopped walking a fair distance ahead. They both looked confused.

"I'm good. Thought I heard a kid. Thought they'd all left by now." Edge answered. A part of him felt he was lying to himself. The voice of some random kid wouldn't normally bother him. Something about it seemed familiar.

"Really? I didn't hear anything."

"Maybe because you two were too busy flapping your gums."

Another gander down the hall. Nothing. With a shrug, Edge ambled up to them, and they continued on their way out.

Joe went on, "As I was saying, Edge, don't let what he said tonight get under your skin. He's a little old school - he just doesn't get the style we bring. The energy. The acrobatics. We just have to make a bet on ourselves, you know?"

A shrug. Edge chose to forget the voice and invest back into the conversation. "Sure. But how can you bet with no money? He gives as good a check as we can get around here..."

"Just wait till snow flies and the Death Tours start again. If we don't bite it, and we don't get any proper recognition by then, maybe..."

Edge did not hear how Christian finished that declaration; that pubescent voice once more caught his attention with a distant yell followed by a bang. This startled him.

"Okay - what the fuck?" His head swiveled in the direction of this noise now, noticing as he turned that Joe and Christian also glanced that way. "You guys heard that too?"

"No?"

"We're trying to see what the hell you're talking about."

Edge was quite sure he didn't earn any concerning headshots during the match, yet their stark bemusement was making him doubt his own memory. He cleared his eyes and ears for reassurance. That same kid uttered a faint whimper - nearly too small to hear, let alone to discern the precise location of. The older Cage faced the corridor fully. Squinting, hoping to see some shape or movement under the buzzing ceiling lights; a break among the orange-and-blue lockers.

... Why was he so fixated on this?

That sense of deja vu hit Edge, but why? Where had he?... and why did he feel so compelled to seek it out?

"Don't... leave!..."

At the end of the hall, a flit of a shadow around the corner suceeded these words. Light-headed, Edge found himself following after it. Legend and Christian's explanations went unheard . He was now only aware of that voice of a kid he knew, guiding him on, coaxing his brisk walk into a jog then a dash as he rounded the corner -

"Hey! Slow your role, kid!"

Edge put on the brakes mere inches short of colliding with one man he honestly hadn't expected - his promoter. Paul Vachon, also called "Butcher" during his own time in-ring, was a grizzled man who often made Edge feel shrunken under his stare despite having more size over the veteran wrestler. Immediately Vachon's recent rebukes came to mind - but Edge's current circumstance coupled with this respectful intimidation pushed the frustration back and confusion forward. Looking moreso through Paul than at him, he bumbled "Oh, uh, hey Paul... didn't, know you were around the corner..." and immediately cringed at his toddled-out words.

Understandably, Paul regarded Edge as if he had three heads. He made a point of sniffing loudly. Trying to catch a whiff of alcohol maybe? Who knows.

"Mmhmm... what's got you running like a bat out of hell then?"

"I..." Edge swallowed. How to explain it? Cage peeked over Paul's shoulder, "Thought I heard someone I haven't, uh... seen in awhile..."

"Mmhmm." Shake of the head. "Start chasing shadows and voices now, and I'll start thinking you aren't mentally fit to stand in my ring either..."

That cut Edge, lips quivering with a scowl. Still he didnt have it in him to respond.

What if Vachon was right? Was he chasing shadows? A second gander beyond his promoter, with Paul saying, "And you better not give me that kinda trouble, I've dealt with enough damn lunacy from my kid's antics..."

The corridor was quiet, a far cry from the jarring noise that'd happen during the day. Always something so surreal about seeing a usually bustling place so vacant... except - there it was - at the very end, a gangly figure was walking towards the exit. Too distant and dimly lit to make out the precise details on this kid; only the silhouette of a tall and seemingly muscular teen, head framed by huge, wavy hair.

"Hey!" Exclaimed Edge. Intrigued into following, he shrugged past Paul in a pellmell dash. Ensuing curses were left in the dust along with two rising sets of shouts - Christian and Legend were racing after him. Their voices were white noise to Edge. Same as the buzz of the ceiling lights; the squeak of his sneakers on the floor. It all dulled in volume - voices congealed into indistinct whispering, echoing down the walls that stretched far longer than it first appeared...

Was the hall extending before his eyes? It looked like he'd only made a foot of progress, the double doors a pinprick beyond this endless tunnel of beige and tile, as if he was stuck on a treadmill... at the same time it seemed like the walls had begun narrowing along either side of him, lockers closing in, a set of dull metal teeth priming to grind him to dust...

Edge's good sense wondered just what the fuck was happening. What he was trying to accomplish. Why was everything becoming a blur? Panic mounted upon him - the further onward, the more the hallway seemed to compress in on him. The whispering around him becoming somehow defeaning. Still he charged on - why? He didn't know, he just had to -

- had to get to him -

- before he -

Within a breath the exit, a yard afar from him not a second before, was now an arms length away; in his disorientation, Edge could not react in time.

Smash!

The door gave way into darkness - Edge's face kissed pavement. An acute headache made itself known. Sudden fatigue settled in with his fear, content to let whatever happen next, happen. As he lay on the cold ground his brain found it a perfect time to broach about a dozen questions on what just transpired. Like a distant, fractured memory, he felt painfully lost on the logic of it.

Debris crunching. Footsteps. This brought Edge from his daze. Lifting his head, he was met with the sight of a moonless night. His field of view limited to what little the outside lights beside the door could illuminate, what he could see was the hazy shape of someone standing just beyond the threshold of shadow and light. Then the shape stepped into it. Revealed itself not to be that kid Edge was in such thoughtless pursuit of - but that man who seemed determined to pursue him.

Gangrel knelt before Edge. The younger man felt nails pirck his chin as his face was grasped. He was too dizzy to resist being pulled closer, feeling very much like a rag doll dragged across the ground. Gangrel's glasses reflected Edge's thousand-mile stare, until Gangrel removed them with his other hand, looking down with fondness.

"Edge, Edge... my dear boy. Such a cold welcome back. I'd hoped our reunion may be more cause for rejoice." He whispered. Chuckled. "Don't tell me you're still telling Christian half-truths? Doesn't your precious baby brother deserve more than that? Hmph. Oh well. If that's your wish, I'll have to oblige."

The older Cage's head was dropped back to the ground just as he heard the door open behind him. Two new sets of feet were now pounding around him. Edge felt himself being carefully lifted up.

"Dude! What the hell?! What happened?..."

"What were you doing? All of a sudden you started running and... Paul said you... Jesus, Edge, what the hell?..."

Once steadied on his feet, Edge was soon staring down at a very somber Christian. Edge noticed his eyes were growing wet.

"Edge, are you alright? Talk to me," pleaded the younger blonde. It nearly didn't register - Gangrel's words moments before still hung in the air. Something clicked... but right now, he just could not place what had done so. Dizzy again, Edge grabbed Christian's shoulders. Legend stood by wide-eyed; Gangrel was likely lurking somewhere behind the brothers. They all allowed for a quiet moment for Edge to come to.

"Chris?"

"... Yeah?"

"Put a dam on those waterworks, eh? Crybaby."

A punch in the face might have gone over better, judging from the look on Christian's face. It was enough to earn a pity hug from Edge.

"Glad to know you're talking normal. I'll kick you when you're down next time," Christian made this promise made through a shaky laugh. Edge managed one as well. With his chin on Christian's shoulder he was able to see Gangrel again, idling by, half-cloaked in shadow. "Seriously though. What happened? What were you doing?"

If only Edge also knew. Recalling the scene was similar to stringing together a dream's synopsis from a figment of it's memory. He didn't trust his tongue to relay it in a way that wouldn't incriminate him as a prime canidate for the loony bin; it was confusing to him, let alone to anyone else.

"I... heard that kid, like I said... then I saw him - or someone, something. Ran into Paul. Saw the kid again. That's when shit got real weird and I..." Edge paused. Blinked at Gangrel, who appeared to be listening with rapt attention. Some of it came to him then. "I ran after him down the hall but it was like... I was just running in place, like... my vision was warping everything around me... and I could barely hear you guys, or anything else really... besides the whispering... a bunch of whispering I couldn't make out..."

Christian broke away from Edge. Petrified seemed the correct word to describe his reaction.

Legend was similarly gawking at Edge, "Dude. That's not good..."

"We didn't hear or see anything. Same with Paul. There was nothing there, Edge."

The words hit him like a puck in the teeth. Stunned silent, the older Cage watched Joe approach Gangrel - showing they'd actually acknowledged his presence, which comforted him. At least Gangrel wasn't also a product of his hallucinogenic episode.

"Hey, howdy, nice to meet you bud - did you see what happened a minute ago? See anyone, hear anything?"

Gangrel appeared thoughtful, scratching his chin with a nail. Christian also turned to him. Gangrel shrugged. "Can't say I did - nothing like he describes. I was taking a stroll here when I heard the door blast open. I turned and saw Edge falling out of it."

"I... fuck. Okay," was all Edge could say. He combed his fingers through his hair. Sighed. Everyone was staring at him. Again. "I'm fine, guys. Just... day's catching up to me, I guess."

His brother and friend weren't convinced. "It has been pretty draining today. Maybe we better turn in for the night? Figure it out in the morning," Christian said.

"Mmm, shame we keep catching each other at bad times," a faint frown creased Gangrel's lips, bouncing ever so slightly on the balls of his feet. Impatient, perhaps. "I was going to invite you two to a drink should we have crossed paths again. You've earned it for the good work tonight."

Edge was keen to note Christian lighten up at the praise.

"Yeah, kinda sucks... the thought's appreciated though. Maybe another day."

"Sooner than later hopefully. You boys take care."

With a nod spared to the three young wrestlers, Gangrel sunk back into the shadows, returning to his nighttime stroll as casually as though he hadn't encountered them in the first place. Joe E looked understandably confused.

"Take it he's a fan?..."

"Guess you could said that," mumbled Edge.

"Huh. You guys attract a weird crowd."

Not long afterwards, the Cage brothers bid goodbye to Legend. Their walk to Bessy was spent in relative silence; Edge stewing in his own mind for what was now the second night in a row, while he could only assume Christian was brainstorming new ways to overthink. It was obvious he was still shaken. And for him to be nearly tearing up at the episode?

Edge hasn't seen that in a long while. He thought he'd kicked that behavior. This must've set him off something good.

This was part of the reason why he didn't put up a debate when Christian automatically hopped into the driver's seat. Watching the school shrink in the side mirror, Edge heard - but was only half-listening to - Christian.

"Remember that Psycho looking motel on the way here? Maybe we could, uh, stop in and check the rates."

"Right..."

Quiet. Edge flicked his gaze to the road ahead. He couldn't see any unusual shapes from the shadows, could he?

"Are you alright?"

That tone was so soft he almost didn't think it was Christian's. Yet his brother was side-eyeing him when he turned to look, eyebrows scrunched together. "If you want, we could see about getting... what happened... checked out or something... totally better than us just gawking and waiting till it possibly happens again... maybe even take a break for yourself tomorrow?"

"Sure. If we could afford -"

Edge was interrupted by the sound of Christian slamming a fist on the dash. Ooh! A pinch of the old floppy fish tantrum! A double whammy tonight. "Fuck the money, dude! I'd eat some grass if it means you'd feel better."

Wow.

It was almost like his brother cared about him. Heh.

"... Thanks. Seriously." Not sure how to properly respond yet wanting more to be said, the older sibling almost sheepishly added, "Love you, bro."

"You too."

And that was the end of that. While Edge truly did appreciate Christian's concern, he wasn't convinced these hallucinations were stress-induced. And he'd never had such a thing happen to him in the past. At least, not that he could remember. But what was it then? It was like a word stuck on the tip of his tongue; he felt like he knew it, but the exact answer wouldn't come out. Would lounging around in some ratty hotel room - or on the smoke-hole filled seats of Bessy if that failed - help him figure it out? The more he pondered it, the more he'd rather drown those thoughts out in alcohol.

As they drove along, Bessy's headlights revealed a figure from the dark - only it was Gangrel. His back to the car, hands in his pockets, he was meandering down the sidewalk. Christian noticed as well but did not comment. As they drove past, the fanged man acknowledged them with a casual wave. Edge observed as he, too, faded from view.

"Come back... don't leave..."

Edge felt a pit drop in his stomach. Without thinking he blurted, "Put on the brakes."

"What?"

"Stop the car!"

Christian pulled the shitbox up beside the curb. "Okay, dude, now what?"

"We're picking him up. I want a damn drink."

"I mean, so do I but -"

"Nope. Uh-uh," Edge raised a finger, shaking his head, "If you're gonna be aggressively mothering me, we may as well enjoy ourselves while we're at it. A night out with our supposedly biggest fan won't hurt anything, will it? Just a few hours to unwind and we can go back to the grind..."

Convincing himself this was his reason was easy enough; just another half-truth to tell Christian.

The full truth was that Gangrel was more than a stranger to Edge.

Christian made no word or move of protest in the time it took for Gangrel to approach the passenger's window. Edge gestured for him to enter. Twisting around, he pushed his and Christian's gym bags, along with other assorted items and trash, to the other seat as to allow a space for Gangrel.

"I see you've changed your mind," said Gangrel. His tone was one of quiet victory; it didn't take peeking in the rear view mirror for Edge to imagine a pleased grin.

"Hey, better now than never! Tell me where I'm taking this beast..."


A/N: Originally, some parts of the wrestling scene was taken from an actual tape of Edge and Christian in an indie match together back in... 96, I want to say? To see what would have been in their toolset around the same time of the story. Can't seem to find the exact match again on YouTube though. Shame. The rarer indie stuff is some of my favorite to dig up.

Joe E. Legend was a tag partner of Edge's and a member of a stable including them, Christian, and Rhyno, among others. Not sure how important he'll be to the story; if I'm being honest I just feel like I shove in too many nameless extras and that doesn't do wonders for a narrative flow I'm quite sure, haha.

I also don't think they ever worked with the Vachon family during these years as far as I know, but I saw what's honestly a dubious wiki claim that Paul Vachon had a promotion in the mid 90s, and thought "hmmm that could work for my narrative". Because if the name Vachon rings a bell, well, you might understand why ~

Well, whether or not you enjoyed or despised this chapter, I still have more on the way, no matter if I take a millenia in fanfiction time to churn it out. :)