The Jackrabbit- The mind of Jay Ethelon was broken decades ago by the man who became Talon. He is a darker, deeper man than those days, with an undiscovered secret that has made him the victim of attempts on his life. Twisted by the abuse he has suffered, deranged but focussed by new motivations in his professional wrestling career, allies have been drawn to him. But now there is a betrayer in their midst. After tearing apart from the mind of Vanilla's ex-boyfriend Spyke, The Jackrabbit fell into a long coma- during which time he touched the minds of hundreds of people around him. Now awakened, he is driven by a single goal. Talon.

Vanilla- The girl who calls herself Vanilla has felt misunderstood her entire life. The Jackrabbit was the first person since her sister Cassie that Vanilla could finally feel comfortable with. But joining him on his adventures around the world hasn't been all she expected, as they have been chased and hunted by the madman Tero Haber and his mysterious Council of Knowledge. With her ex-boyfriend Spyke now hospitalized, and the Jackrabbit only now recovering from his coma, Vanilla has a decision ahead of her. Where does she go from here?

Stevie Guile- For six long years, Stevie put his personal life, and his own identity, aside to join the lunatic Jackrabbit on the road, protecting him from the endless organisations trying to enslave him. But when Tero Haber revealed the traitor in their midst and forced Stevie to reveal his enigmatic alliance to the Zero People, Stevie had no choice but to flee the gang for the first time in half a decade. In doing so, he has tracked down the mysterious Hive-Mind- a man with bizarre abilities and the answer to the question Stevie seeks. Who is the true traitor?

"I am the Hive-Mind. And I know that you are not the traitor." I hear the words, but time stands still so that I can't respond. The man hovers before me, looming over me like a lord, like a leader, like a.. god. He is an overpowering sight, clad in the iridescence of the black and white cowl, the hood pulled up over a stark black mask that covers only his eyes, but casts a dark shadow over his lips and nose. The cloak pools at his feet, where he stands motionless now on the steel bridge that crosses the lead chasm. "The Hive-Mind?" I repeat, dumbly. "I thought you were..." "An object." He cuts in. His voice is both deep and soft at the same time. Gruff but comforting, echoing around the hollowed-out cave. "Yes." I respond, and notice the amusement he tries to hide. I had travelled to Louisiana to look into the rumors that I had heard, to follow up on the intel that the Zero People have gathered over the years. I had come here to search for an item of limitless value, an artifact of myth and legend, a relic that could give an answer to any question. Instead I had found a man. "I didn't-" I begin, and again he cuts me off. "Expect this, I know." Well, it's true. I had met a man named Jonah Colton here, in the improbable, invisible office block in the swamps of Louisiana, and he had promised to show me the Hive-Mind. He had made me answer riddles, like a series of twisted aptitude tests with no real answers and no grading schemes. "We had to know that you see with more than just your eyes," the Hive-Mind says, as though he knows exactly what I'm thinking. For the first time I feel unnerved, very conscious of the lack of exit behind me. "I'm not going to harm you. The lead bricks are for my protection, not your demise.." He begins to step towards me. I step back anyway. "Why?" I ask. "The outside world is full of noise. Noise in so many pitches, so many tones, so many beats. White noise mostly, a hundred voices all with nothing to say." I glance around the unadorned lead walls, convex and meeting at the top, a dome of solid impenetrable bricks. I turn back to the Hive-Mind; he has moved down the bridge, closer towards me. This time I hold my ground. "In here, there is silence" he continues. "Until you arrived. And aren't you the noisy one, Steven Sol. Steven Pace. Steven Nadir. Steven Guile." "Those aren't my real name," I tell him, wondering suddenly how much this guy knows about me. Most of those names are only recorded on Zero People documents, and even some of those have been deleted for security purposes.. "I realize that, Mr. Mills" "How did you-" "You told me, Steven. Oh, you prefer Stevie?" "I.. Yes, I do. My father-" "Yes, your father called you Steven. Very professional, very proper. Very grown-up.." I'm not going to let it phase me. I've seen these kinds of tricks before, so-called psychics and mystics, tricking you into revealing just enough for them to appear clairvoyant. Next he'll bend a spoon, or something. "And so you are just 'Stevie'. Because your daddy would never-" "And what do they call you?" I say, deciding that the direction of this conversation needs to change. "They call me only the Hive-Mind," he answers, but before I even have to chance to interject he continues. "Because they have chosen to forget Jared. Jared they would lock away.. for their own purposes, for their own safety. They would have killed me, a five-year old boy that knew all their darkest desires, all their dirtiest secrets. Humanity will kill to protect a secret, the most precious resource of all. More precious than oil, more valuable than gold... but you know that already, Stevie." "What makes you so impor-.." "You already know the answer." "You can.." I remember back to the rumors, to the legend. "You can answer any question in the world." "If it has been thought." I believe him. Not a moment of doubt crosses my mind. I've seen what Jonah could do, the illusions he created before my waking eyes. And I've seen what... "So what is the answer to my question?" I ask suddenly. He smiles. He knows I've played him at his own game, he knows I've accepted faster than most that I don't need to say it out loud. He already knows my question. "The answer is in you," he says. Fucking typical. A dodge. I look down at myself, my yellow tie has been out of position for a while now, my faded gray suit hasn't looked the same since the beach that Jonah made me see. "In me? Me? I'm a mess, honestly. I'm tired and hungry and not in the mood for any more riddles or any more of these fucking games. Why can't any of you give me a straight goddamn answer or a.." "Do stop your whining, Steven." "What?" I look up accusingly at the Hive-Mind, giving him a glare long before I realize that the words weren't spoken by him. The voice is familiar though, gravelly and deep but enunciating perfectly. "Father?" My father stands just a few feet from me, looking a decade younger than the last day I saw him. I glance around me. The handrail that I used to slide down instead of using the stairs, the couch that I used to turn into a fort, the 15-inch TV that I used to watch Saturday morning cartoons on. My father rushes past me, a newspaper in hand. I'm home. "Father? Where are you going?" I say, but he does not respond. The only thing out of place in this 1970s flashback is the Hive-Mind, now taking a seat on the couch, simply watching the scene play out. Though they are hidden behind his mask, I get the distinct feeling that his eyes are closed. I turn back to the man that raised me, and realize he is chasing someone with that paper. That newspaper meant pain, a sore ass or a sting on the back of the head. That someone he is chasing is me. "I'd been bugging him all day.." I recall out loud. "He told me to stop whining and I... I gave him the middle finger. I'd never disrespected him like that before.. He hit me so hard with that newspaper, I couldn't sit right for days." "But you did respect him." It's not a question, the Hive-Mind barely even looks in my direction. "Yeah. I always have. No matter how much I disappointed him, how many times he called me a failure or a disgrace.. He was always my Father. He raised me alone.. He was all I had. I don't think he really knew that..." "You were all he had, too." The Hive-Mind responds. "You didn't really know that, either." My father has caught up to me, at the bottom of the yard, and has dished out his Wall Street Journal brand of justice. He returns into the house, returns to his studies, no mind for the wails and laments of the boy he's left outside. I went to my friend Chris's house that night, spent hours talking about how much better my life would be without my father in it. I was young, naive. My father has sat down to his desk, surrounded by his papers, but remarkably he doesn't return to his work. Instead he reaches inside the nearest drawer, removes a photo in a dusty old frame. He wipes the dust off the glass. "My mum?" I say. "Guess again," the Hive-Mind responds. I walk across to the desk, completely invisible to this specter of my Father, and glance over his shoulder. In the frame is my first school photo, all prim and proper in an unblemished uniform. He smiles at it. I don't think I've ever seen him smile like that. "We'll get there, my son. Just you and me." I want to cry. Instead I stand in shock, staring at the man who was always my father but never my dad. "I've never heard him talk about me that way. Never." I say out loud, and I feel the Hive-Mind approach me from behind. "It was always.. aspirations.. goals.. . achievements. He swapped out love for ambitions, play for work.." "He trusted in you," the Hive-Mind says. "He trusted in you and believed in you. No matter how you deviated from what he believed in, he would never turn away from you, he would never betray you." "I... love you." I hear the voice behind me, the soft murmur of a female voice. I spin around quickly and see her from behind, sable hair cascading down her shoulders where her V-neck cuts off. Her jean shorts hug tight around her legs and her.. "Tamsin?" I say out loud, but like my father a moment ago, she does not respond, does not acknowledge me. "She can't.." Hive-Mind begins, and I cut him off. "Yeah yeah, I get it." I interrupt, "I've seen Eternal Sunshine.." I'm pretty sure he's rolling his eyes. That's assuming he even has eyes. Tamsin has walked towards the bed and flopped herself down on it. She's gorgeous; she always was. I see a man in the bed, his shirt discarded on the ground next to his yellow baseball cap. It's me. I'm pretty sure I don't look that good topless any more. Motel food will do that to you. "I remember this night, this conversation. She tells me she loves me, I tell her.." "I know," I hear my voice echo back at me from the bed. "Yeah, I tell her that." I sigh. Tamsin doesn't hit me, she doesn't storm out of the room. She was soft as snow, butter wouldn't melt. She lies herself down on the bed, wraps those long tanned arms around my shoulders. I watch, envying myself... envying a vision of myself. "She meant it," the Hive-Mind helpfully informs me, as though hearing it again wasn't bad enough. "She would have died for you, but you didn't even give her that satisfaction. You meant everything to her.." "She meant everything to me, too," I spit back, ready to fly at him. But I'm not angry at the Hive-Mind. I'm angry at myself. "She knew it, even though you couldn't say it," he tells me. "But she didn't need to hear it.. She just needed you to..." "Stay." I say, before he can. I watch myself get up out of the bed, trek over to where my jeans had been discarded, and check the cell phone. It's a brick, one of those old Nokias with Snake, a hundred and sixty character limit on texts. "They needed me. I had to go.." I say, watching myself pulling on those jeans, making my excuses, looking for my car keys under Tamsin's bra. "She understood. Even when you had to go and couldn't come back.." the Hive-Mind says. I don't reply. He's a fucking mind-reader, he knows what I'm thinking. I watch the younger, stupider Stevie leave the room. I watch Tamsin get out her phone, a Motorola thing with a sliding cover. She begins writing a text, and I lean over to see the screen.. "I WILL B HERE WEN U GT BCK. I CN WAIT 4 U. I DO LOV-" She stops typing, stares at the screen for a moment. Hits the delete button. "She waited. And waited. And even when you disappeared for good, bound to your new path, she waited. She wanted to share everything with you because you meant so much to her, and you wanted to share nothing. But even when you were miles apart, she kept you in her heart, never betrayed you." The Hive-Mind says. "Still she waited." "Screw you, man." I'm shouting at him now. "You know I had no choice, I did what I had to. Like I always fucking do. I signed up because I had to, I became one of the.." "One of tha' Zero People, boy!" I hear Jed's voice behind me, that thick Brooklyn drawl. I turn around and sure enough he's stood there; he's in his mid-forties, so this has gotta be about years ago. He still wore that wife-beater vest, still had arms the size of tree trunks. He also had a ridiculous Ron Burgundy tash back then too, but none of us had the balls to say that to his face. This time I have the smarts to not try talking to him. I simply watch, let Jed approach a younger version of myself. I notice my tie, marigold yellow. My baseball cap, the same color, and realize I haven't changed much in eight years. I didn't have so much stubble back then, I guess. "Glad to be onboard!" I hear myself say, a hundred years ago when I had no idea what that even meant. "Best shape up or ya'll be overboard," Jed responds. I like to think he's warmed to me since those days. "He liked you from the start," the Hive-Mind says, hovering along behind Jed. It's only when he's stood next to the colossal black man that I appreciate how tall he is. "Liked you, but never quite trusted you. The feeling was mutual though." "Something about him," I explain. "Always put me on edge. Like he was analyzing me, always staring right through me. Waiting for me to slip up." "He was." No need for the Hive-Mind to sugar-coat it, I guess. "He was analyzing you for threat. Assessing you for worth. Evaluating what you brought to the table as one of the Zero People. Like.." "Like my father." The Hive-Mind is smiling again, looking right past me. We're in the back room of a pawn shop, a front put up by another member of the group. Secret organizations always have stupid fronts, but Arty seemed to take special care to make his pawn shop the best pawn shop it could be. That was Artyom Dobrynin for you, the geriatric Russian guy would have been like a leader in the Zero People if it had such a hierarchy. But pecking orders and chains of command broke down our primary tenet. Neutrality. I watch Jed setting me up with the basics. Pager, cell phone, lock pick, laptop. I look like a kid on Christmas Day, snatching up the gadgets. Anyone would think I'd only signed up for the freebies. I watch as I leave the back room, rucksack now bulging, ready and eager for my first assignment. Jed watches me go, allowing a smile to creep up on his face only once I'm out of sight. "He picked you out of a seventy-nine potential candidates" the Hive-Mind tells me, like I don't already know. Hell, he probably took the fact out of my own goddamn head. "He never quite trusted you, but he always believed in you. He'd put into you what you put into him, and he'd never betray that." "Yeah," I say impatiently. "I know all this.." Jed moves over to Arty, that same stoic expression on his face. "Good kid," I hear Arty remark. "Yeah," Jed responds. "I'm not sure about his motives.. but he's got guts and he's got heart. He's a guy you wanna like, a guy you could befriend.." "What's he mean by that?" I ask, but the Hive-Mind says nothing, taking the same role as me, the mute observer. The fly on the wall. "You mean.." Arty starts, but Jed doesn't let him finish. "Yeah, we gonn' make tha' boy the Jackrabbit's best fuckin' buddy."   * * *   He awakens. He has lost all sense of time since going into the coma, since he first began traversing the mindscape. He has been in the lives of hundreds of others; he has seen their fears, their worries, their hopes, their dreams. He has walked the quicksilver path, he has indulged on the life-force served to him from the memory orbs. It is the only thing that has kept him whole, the only thing that has stopped him from breaking into shards. Shards. Like he disassembled Spyke. He reached into the labyrinth of his psyche, plucked free the pieces that offended him. He could fix him, he could make him... better. He could erase all the blackness, all the darkness. He could turn Spyke into a better man, a good man, a man without.. a man without Vanilla. That had been the key. He had crossed the minefield of Spyke's mind with ease. It was a murky place, full of despair and loathing. Frustration and anger. But the Jackrabbit had known despair, the Jackrabbit had known frustration. He fought against the despondency of the mind, dug deep into the heart. He found what he was looking for, her beautiful smiling face, her girly laugh, her hair a crisscross of colors. And he erased her. The Jackrabbit couldn't have known of the cascade that would follow. Couldn't have predicted the avalanche of fears and emotions that would sweep him up. All of Spyke's history bombarded him like an artillery strike, and it was all he could do to push back, erasing them one by one, discarding the memories to stop himself drowning. A childhood lover, choking him, gone. A trip to the beach, choking him, gone. A first drug, a first kiss, a first word. Choking him. Gone. Were these his memories? Or Spyke's? Andrew, no, Jay, no, The Jackrabbit tumbled back into the mindscape not a moment too soon. He brushed his thin black hair, no, his wiry blonde hair back over his eyes. He had escaped the onslaught, barely conscious, his own psyche barely maintained. He had learnt a valuable lesson. Next time he would be prepared. He opens his eyes. He is in a hospital. A discarded MP3 player lies on a chair behind him. Vanilla was here. How long has he been here? Long enough. There is a tournament to win. A company to save. A Movement to quash. An Enigma to destroy. Talon. Talon is hunting him. Then he must hunt the hunter.   * * *   Sunday, November 24th 2013 Ralph Englestad Arena Grand Forks, North Dakota OWF Brawltopia 2013   He lost. Shit, JR just lost to Talon. I have literally no idea what I'm going to say to him when he comes back through those curtains. Do I smile, do I cry.. do I commiserate him on a tragic loss, or congratulate him on an outstanding effort? I settle on just being the same old Vanilla that he knows and loves. That's the best I can do for him. Like all the guys in the back here, I caught the match on an old-fashioned monitor. I heard the crowd break out into "LET'S GO 'RABBIT!" chants. Alright fine, I might have chanted along too. I was alone in doing it, the guys back here are mostly sweaty middle-aged men. They drag the boxes from arena to arena, they put the ring up and take it back down again. One of them is even in charge of making sure the wrestlers are dressed right. I guess you wouldn't want Doc Holloway walking out in Moxie's shorts� It's kinda sad, I figure most of these guys didn't dream about being the "ring guy" or the "lights guy".. I figure they all had dreams of being inside that ring right where JR just was, kicking ass and getting chanted for. I bet that fat guy there was Mike 'The Boulder' Alexander, the OWF's replacement Cain Colossus... and the make-up woman, I bet she was 'The Dazzler' Dani Domino. She probably wanted to be the next Eva De La Cruz. Though sometimes I doubt even Eva De La Cruz wants to be the next Eva De La Cruz.. The curtains part and I brace myself. Even open my arms for a hug, but.. it's Talon. He glares at me, and I wonder if I'm about to develop a new lead-piping-shaped birthmark.. but he moves past me like a ghost. I can't help but notice the object on his shoulder as he passes; the OWF Tag Team Championship belt. JR's OWF Tag Team Championship belt. That's when it hits me. This wasn't just another loss for JR. It's his first in the OWF, but not in his career. He wasn't just pinned out there when that massive headbutt collided with his skull. No, JR just lost a part of who he was. That belt, that tag team with Doc Holloway, it meant everything to JR. It was the reason he skipped into work every Friday night, the reason he was still able to sing "A Very Happy Unbirthday" to everyone despite being chased around the globe by one psychopath, and being tormented week-in and week-out by another in the OWF. He needed this win to validate himself. He needed it to get revenge on Talon for all the pain, all the suffering, all the... betrayals. He needed this to finally let go of whatever horrible thing Talon did to him all those years ago. And he needed that Tag Team Championship belt to feel like he finally belonged. Shit. I know a little something-something about not belonging. My family never understood why I didn't dress all prim and proper, why I didn't love poetry and piano and dancing.. why I wasn't a miniature carbon copy of my big sis, Cassie. Though we were always best friends, me and Cass never saw eye-to-eye.. I could never belong with Cass and her friends. So I found my own friends in Dolly and Skullz and... Spyke... Gods, it was like four days ago that Spyke walked back into my life, calling himself Andrew. Acting like nothing ever went wrong between us. No, not like that. More like acting as if he could put right everything that went wrong between us. It's too much to handle, and right now, I'm not even gonna think about it. I've got NO FX blaring into my ears, and I've got one heart-broken wrestler about to walk through the... He looks like crap. Like, not just the sweat and the blood that's covering his skin and his blonde hair, but the look on his face too. Like someone just told him his pet dog got run over, or his girlfriend just slept with his best mate, or... or his mortal enemy just stole his life. Yeah, that's how he looks. "Hey, JR..." I say, 'cos what the fuck else do I say?, and put my hand on his shoulder. He doesn't shrug me off or anything, but he doesn't acknowledge it either. "Did I... Did I wins?" he says. Great. So it's gonna fall on me to be the one to... "Nah, JR. Not this time." "I loseded..." "You'll get him next time, right? Next time, he doesn't stand a chance, right?" "Next time..." He falls against the nearest wall, slumps to the floor, his back making a squeaking sound where the sweat has stuck to the tiles. My hand is still hovering where his shoulder was, so I pull it back, fold my arms over my chest. I know how he feels. When you want something so much. When you set your heart on it... "Where's my shiny belt gone?" he asks, and my heart skips a beat. Then I feel the vibrating in my pocket and, I feel shit for thinking it, but thank God that's an out. "I've gotta.." I say, not finishing the sentence as I shove the phone to my ear and step around the corner. I hear the muffled tone on the other end of the receiver. I recognize that voice. "Cass?" I say , in shock. I haven't heard from her in... gods, since she took that job on the cruise liner.. "Cassie? What's, uh.. what's going down?" I ask, lamely. The response isn't what I expect. It isn't what I fucking expect at all. "What? What..? No...." Tears. They burn my eyes. I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't stay here, I've got to.. My legs carry me so fast towards what I hope is an exit.     * * *   The mindscape always seems so vast the first time. An endless sprawl of connected consciences, a tapestry of intersecting thoughts and emotions. Lives criss-crossing, landscapes that intertwine but never collide, touching but never feeling. The key is knowing how to traverse it. The Jackrabbit moves by hopping, such is his namesake. He hops from one island to the next, never touching the burning lava that flows beneath the cracks. And so he is a farmer, so he is a builder, so he is a surgeon, a rocket scientist, a hobo, the Vice President of Uruguay. And so he is Talon's prot�g�, Jenson Shanaz. The Jackrabbit knows chaos, knows disorder, he thrives where there is madness and confusion. This place is unfamiliar to him, the mind that Jenson maintains is... maintained. Where the Jackrabbit finds bedlam, Jenson has found structure. Where the Jackrabbit creates disorder, Jenson has created order. For a moment, a fleeting moment, the Jackrabbit thinks to flee, to withdraw from the sickening symmetry. But then he finds an orb. A new orb, flickering into existence in this mind. A new memory, a clue about Talon. He came here seeking the Enigma, but perhaps he will find something more valuable. The Jackrabbit reaches for the orb, his fingers outstretched towards the quicksilver surface. But it moves, and the Jackrabbit chases, on all fours, the orb now his prey. It is quicker than him, a floating balloon on the air. It comes from this place and he is a foreigner, and before he can indulge himself on its substance it is tucked into a compartment, out of his reach. No, not a compartment. A compartment within a compartment. The Jackrabbit steps back. Around him are a dozen more worlds like this, each one tucked within itself. He stands within just a single massive compartment, surrounded by the memories stored here. The neighboring compartments are all the same, divided by sensation. Anger. Disappointment. Self-esteem. Elation. Jenson has structured them all, segregated his emotions. Made them ripe for the picking. It will be a simple task to find exactly what he needs; a weakness in the Enigma. He reaches out, lets his mind stroke the feelings around him. Discord. He feels it lashing out at him from the compartment before him, feels every memory as another snapshot of times when Jenson had disagreed� or been disagreed with. Is this what Talon's circle had come to? When the Jackrabbit had occupied the tower, the Cult was unified, united under one goal, under one leader. United under Talon. Had this Jenson boy become a sign of the failings of Talon� or a cause? Is there anybody you haven't turned against you, Enigma? Do you gather people to you because deep down you are alone? He steps through the mercurial veil and sees the boy. The nucleus of this world, he is flanked on either side by a man, a woman, his parents. They are both dressed in traditional Iranian garb, his father in a keffiyeh, his mother a hijab. Jenson though wears the plain Western clothes of his new abode, black trousers, a smart jumper. He has grown since the Jackrabbit last saw him, his hair is tidier, his clothes as neat; as immaculate; as his mind. They all sit at a table, a full Iranian spread of khoresht and kateh and Nan-e barbari to compliment. The Jackrabbit knows these names because Jenson knows these names. They are applauding their son, their boy, congratulating him on some unknown great accomplishment, rewarding him with the gift of a.. Christmas Tree? Jenson is lapping up the attention, all smiles for his own glory. "Is this how you see it?" laughs the Jackrabbit aloud, and the laughter echoes around the mindscape. Jenson looks immediately at the intruder, but his parents remain stoic. "What are you doing here?" the boy asks. "Your family is large, Jenson. You are the middle child in a dozen unspectacular boys and girls..." The Jackrabbit tells him. "So where are they? Do these specters truly exist here only to laud your existence, to carve altars in your name? Is that your dream?" "That's none of your business. You shouldn't be here. You can't be here." "Is that what he tells you, Jenson?" the Jackrabbit smiles. He waves his arm, erases the food, the tables, the parents, the tree. The latter seems to frustrate Jenson the most. For a fleeting second, he looks ready to battle. And then he calms, regains the composure he began with. He is not rankled easy, this pupil of the Enigma. "I have nothing to offer you. You will not hurt Talon by hurting me, surely you know that... Jay?" The Jackrabbit flinches at the old name. He could do this boy harm in here, he could rip memories from the walls, tear them from their carefully selected pockets.. He could erase them like he did Spyke's... but he feels a truth calling out to him, from a dozen memories of a despondent tutor. Talon wouldn't care. The boy is right. "No," the Jackrabbit says, and he feels his voice resound around the mind. "You betray nothing of the Enigma. You're not what I'm looking for." A moment passes. And he hops.   * * *   Sunday March 30th, 2014 University of Texas Austin, Texas OWF Campus Chaos 2014   He won. Shit, JR just destroyed EJ Slayer. I can't say that I really understand it. Like, at all. I wanna shake myself, wanna scream "Vanilla! Believe it!" But I can't. The JR I just saw out there is not the JR I've known and loved for the last eight months. It's not like I haven't seen him go into some crazy-ass matches before. Pool of Blood. The Jailhouse. Altitude O. And let's not even mention Holiday Bash.. And he did some mental things to his body, and to the other bodies out there. He's thrown people off 15 feet structures, he's used fuckin' Christmas decorations as weapons of violence. I'm pretty sure that Lorenzo guy still has the scars from that bauble. But despite all that, he was always the same Jackrabbit. The fun-loving, nonsense-spewing, finger-wiggling Jackrabbit. He didn't go out there to hurt those guys, he went out there for fun. Fun. I guess that's what makes me question this whole pro-wrestling gig, when 6-foot men are locking themselves in steel cages for fun. When men are taking baths in pigs' guts for fun. But I watched that grimy monitor pretty damn closely for the entirety of the steel chain match tonight; and what JR did out there with that chain, that wasn't fun. He wasn't having fun with EJ Slayer. He was trying to kill him. That chain could have taken Slayer's arm off. JR could have pinned that guy after any one of those signature moves he uses. But he didn't. He had to keep going. He had to keep on hurting him. For revenge. I've heard what they say about the OWF. I've lost count of how many shows I've been backstage at now. Stevie's missed a bunch of them, but not me. Every Pay-Per-View, every Addiction, I'm back here waiting for JR to part those curtains. So I've heard the talking, from the camera guys to the other wrestlers in the locker room. OWF changes people. Well they ain't fuckin' kidding. That psycho with the chain out there, that isn't JR. That psycho with the chain is the same guy that assaulted Spyke in the parking lot of a hotel in Idaho, and left him a jabbering mess. First it was Talon and then Dynamo, then it was Tero Haber, and now it's the Movement... they got to him, they took JR's innocence, they broke him down like schoolyard bullies picking on the weakest kid.. the special kid.. He didn't deserve any of that shit, and now he's... shit, I don't even know what he is anymore. He speaks in riddles, uses words I didn't think he even knew let alone could pronounce. He focuses only on ending the Movement, he... he forgot what fun means. And he... "Boy won tha' match then?" Jed says, coming up behind me. He moves awfully quiet for a six foot black man, especially a 50-something year old. "Yeah," I reply. "He won. If that's what you can call it." Jed gives me a questioning look. One of those "Please elaborate" looks. "He fucked the guy up real bad.." "Memory loss?" he asks. "What? No... No." It's a fair assumption. The last time JR got pissed at someone was Spyke.. "No, he just hurt him. A lot." "Asshole had it comin', didn't he?" I try not to remember the phrase that Doc Holloway always used to say. Pessimistic bastard, that guy. "Yeah, he had it coming Jed. But JR shouldn't need to be the.. the hand of justice, or whatever the fuck it is he's being." "Boy got a right ta be pissed off, got a right ta vengeance," Jed argues, and I narrow my eyes at him. Eye for an eye and we'll all be blind, I think to tell him. But he carries on. "He don't got no place to turn anymore, not since Stevie stabbed him in the back." "Hey!" I cut in, "Don't be so quick to pin this on Stevie all the-" "You got a bettah suggestion, girl?" Fuck. This is the last thing I need, JR will be coming through the curtain any second. I bite my tongue, play with the barbell with my top lip. Jed turns away from me, takes out that cell phone that's practically the size of an iPad. Dude has big pockets. He's tapping away at the screen, and I can't help but notice he's turned his shoulder away from me. "What you doing?" I ask, trying to sound casual. "None ya' business," he replies sharply, before trying to soften it. "Nothin' you'd understand." I'm about to tell the dickweed where to go jump when he comes through the curtain. The Jackrabbit. I move away from Jed, leave him to his stupid phone, and approach JR. He's got a massive grin on his face, and� shit, I've never seen this smile before. And that's just the weirdest thing, 'cos the JR I remember smiled more often than he breathed. Sometimes literally. But this JR has a sick smile on his face, like a Jack-o-Lantern that somebody cut wrong. He's covered in his own sweat, and blood too� but that's not his own. "The bottom card has fallen," he declares, and I stupidly look around for cards. "And so the house of cards begins to tumble." Another fucking metaphor, of course it is. "You uh..." I fumble for the right words. "Good match, dude." Wrong words. "I was not alone in the triumph, my true friends, my real friends were there to guide me, and we toppled the king from his kingdom together.." He's talking about those goddamn chains again, still clutching them to his chest. His 'real friends'. Thanks a fucking bunch. Where were your chains when Talon kicked your ass at Brawltopia. Where were your chains when you put yourself in a goddamn coma and I was sat by your bedside stroking your fucking hand? "Yeah.." is all I manage to say, before quickly adding "I was here too. Backstage, I mean." He looks at me, there's a glassy look in his eyes, but he's looking at me. "Then you witnessed the fall of the first, the prelude to what will come to the remainder. To the Saviour, to Redemption, to... Talon." I knew it would come to this. To the fight with Talon. With EJ Slayer out of the picture, only Plague stands in his way of getting the re-match. The re-match that has kept him awake for months now. Fusion vs. Fusion. Talon vs. the Jackrabbit. Plague doesn't stand a fuckin' chance. "Do you wanna..." I hesitate. A month ago I would have offered to go celebrate with ice-cream. Or honey-glazed spare ribs, I know a great place just over in Victoria. But he won't care about ice-cream now. He won't care about ribs. "We could go and..." "Prepare. For the tournament." He finishes for me. Totally not the offer I was gonna make. "We have salvation in our grasp, the OWF is reaching out to us, Vanilla, and we cannot let her down. When she comes to our teat for milk, we offer it. And when she calls for us to eliminate her foes, we eliminate them." "Yeah... Teat..." I feel the vibration in my pocket and my every muscle freezes. I don't want to answer it. I can't answer it, not now.. I have to answer it. JR doesn't even notice me slip around the corner, reach into my jean-shorts, pull the cell phone out and read the message on the screen. "Fuck!" I say aloud, before adding "Shit!" for good measure. I tap hastily at the on-screen keyboard, not caring about any typos I make. I could literally count to ten before the response comes through with a buzz. "Fuck." Tears have already appeared in my eyes before I shove the phone into my pocket and break into a sprint.   * * *   The travel between two minds is but an instant, not like portals or teleportation, but like the blinking of an eye. The Jackrabbit has exchanged the organized serenity of Jenson's mind for another. This mindscape is vast, sprawling, an endless field of passion and uncertainty. There are no compartments here. Instead the memories graze, free range orbs of quicksilver. They take shapes; birds, rodents, cattle, gazelles, all knocking against one another in their freedom, pushing, jostling, quickly causing an expected kind of chaos. There is the sound of an eagle overhead. A cloaked figure steps forward and the Jackrabbit gathers emotions to him, creates a shield to protect him from assault, creates a spear with which to fight. But the figure is a memory, an old man. The old man has a welcoming smile, his arms open and the Jackrabbit moves towards him. He is.. "Michael Anteman." The Jackrabbit says aloud, using knowledge that is not his own, but is instead pulled from a casually-passing quicksilver vole. Anteman is infinitely old, to the point nobody truly knows his age, and full of wisdom that many would kill.. many would die for. That wisdom would be priceless to the Jackrabbit, but Anteman is not truly here, just a shadow. A wisp pulled from the memory of the girl in whom the Jackrabbit roams. 'Chelle Anteman, another disciple of the Enigma. A shadow is cast across the wrinkled face of her grandfather, and the Jackrabbit sees a new man standing in his place. A man clad in a long black cloak, dark hair cascading over his face. His arms go wide, and he gleams with a sunlight. He smiles wide, he laughs, and the Jackrabbit knows instantly how wrong this image is. Talon should not laugh. The Jackrabbit lunges at Talon, forgetting in the moment that this is just a specter, and tries to hook him into a headlock. They clash, locking up at the collar and elbow, trying to force the other back. The Jackrabbit goes behind, but Talon is too large to outmaneuver, so the Jackrabbit wraps him up in a pump-handle lock and looks to land the Lunacy Fringe. But Talon breaks free and so the Jackrabbit spins him around, a picture-perfect Fatemaker slam, but Talon lands on his feet. The Jackrabbit bends down suddenly, hoisting the Enigma up for a Last Laugh. He lets his laughter echo around the mindscape as he prepares to finish the specter of Talon, but suddenly the specter is ten feet tall, fifteen feet tall, twenty-five feet tall. The Jackrabbit is a blot compared to the looming Enigma. Has Talon invaded this place? Has he conquered this mindscape, seeking to eviscerate me here? "Why are you here, Jackrabbit?" It is not the voice of Talon. It is soft, female. 'Chelle. "Is there something you're looking to find?" "Yes." "What's so important that you think you'll find it here?" she asks, calmly. "How many children's minds will I fall upon before I discover the weakness of the Enigma that is Talon?" "You�re not going to find a weakness in him, Jay.  He�s� more complete than you are.  Please� can’t you see that?" He stares disdain at the girl, walking towards him in her own mindscape. She has clad herself in simple jogging pants and a vest top, as though ready for training. She sees herself as a pupil, a student, eager to take in the teachings of Talon. His loyal pawn. "In even the greatest tower there is a weakness," he tells her. "In even the strongest army there is a weakest link. I wonder, then, how stable are Talon's foundations? How strong is his weakest link?" "And what is..." He reaches into her chest, and grabs a hold of her heart. He hears her gasp, feels the beating in his palm, feels the blood flow around his fingers. And he squeezes, quickening the pace, pooling the blood. 'Chelle can only stare in shock. Because he has changed his face, so that the eyes she sees as her heart stops are not that of the Jackrabbit. They belong to Talon.   * * *   "Why are you showing me all this?" I ask, and the Hive-Mind comes towards me. We have returned to his lead brick cavern, the steel bridge once again maintains the gap between us. His voice echoes in response, it feels like he's surrounding me. "Because you have a question, that needs an answer," he says. "Can't you just tell me?" "It's better that you find it for yourself." "How?" "You already know the answer. My talent isn't knowing every answer in the world, Stevie Mills. My talent is knowing where to look for them. And your answer is inside you." "Well that's really fuckin' helpful. I came all this way to find something that I apparently already know?" "Your knowledge of what is occurring is irrelevant." I recognise the voice immediately, my fists clenching up of their own volition. "And if you do not leave and learn your proper place� then I will ensure that you have no effect on Jay again."  Talon. Shit. The cavern is gone, replaced by the backstage area at an OWF event in Iowa City. The last time we were in Iowa, the Jackrabbit had just won the OWF Tag Team Titles. And dropped Talon on the top of his head, to boot. I recall the fury in the Enigma that night in Iowa, and sure enough I see exactly that in front of my eyes as the memory unfolds. Talon is shoving me against the wall, unlike the previous shadows of my past life, this version of me is like looking in a mirror. The suit I was wearing in September is the same suit I wore to Louisiana to find the Hive-Mind. And the cap... well, I haven't changed the baseball cap in years. The fraying on the rim just adds character. "I... I told you," I hear myself stammering. Do I really sound that wimpy? "I'm not... going anywhere. I'm staying... s-staying with.. 'Rabbit.." Absolutely no conviction in that line at all. In my defense, Talon is nearly 7 feet tall. "For all his psychobabble, he's a fucking bully," I say out loud. Probably to the Hive-Mind, probably just to myself. "That's not how he sees it," the Hive-Mind rather unhelpfully informs me. "He uses his physical prowess where he must. Violence where necessary. But he is driven.." "Yeah," I cut in. "Driven by power, driven by greed.." "Driven by love." "Then you stay with him at your peril, Sol." Talon continues, using one of my many redundant surnames. "I shall do whatever I must to ensure his safety. This is something that is beyond you.  You cannot grant him the safety he needs.  You cannot grant him the guidance that Jay does not know he requires.  Without my.. interference.. his descent will only quicken. And no man knows what awaits him past that threshold.  Not even me.  I shall do what I must before the time comes.  For the sake of Jay.  And woe betide any interruption you might cause me.� "That guys really drones on and on," I quip. "And he never has gotten used to calling him 'Jackrabbit'." But apparently the Hive-Mind doesn't have a sense of humor. "He will always be Jay in the mind of Talon, because Talon will always lament the loss of his only true friend. He found solace in Fusion, touring the world together as they had once dreamed. But it was not as they once dreamed, the Jackrabbit could never be the Jay that Talon had broken. And Talon could never be the Saul that was lost." "I guess... I guess I never saw it that way," I admit. Talon had always been the monster, always been the bad guy. Violence for the sake of violence, justified by pseudo-philosophy that only he understands. Talon releases me, the past me, and I slump to the floor. The locker room door slams behind him, leaving me to adjust my tie, retrieve my cap. Compose myself before 'Rabbit returns, so I can pretend like nothing happened. "He loved Jay, always," the Hive-Mind continues. "But he saw what the Jackrabbit was becoming. He saw what you and Vanilla and Doc Holloway refused to admit. And he vowed to end it before it became too late. He wasn't going to destroy the Jackrabbit. He wasn't going to betray the Jackrabbit. He was going to save him." "But he failed.." I add, finally confessing it to myself. "He failed." "Eli always said failure was God's way of havin' you learn something." I recognize the southern drawl, and spin around to find Doc Holloway leaning against a wall, his fingers idly plucking at a pendant around his neck. I see myself leaning against the same wall, and recognize the scene immediately. I always considered Holloway, if not a friend then an ally. But we didn't chat often, so by process of elimination this is that one idle chat whilst we waited for the Jackrabbit to finish playing Pacman. That Arcade would come to mean a lot more to all of us just ten minutes later. But how were we to know that? "I know, Doc, I know." I hear myself reply. "It's not that easy though, not with 'Rabbit how he is lately, and with Talon and Tero Haber on our tail everywhere we go. What the hell are we supposed to learn from all that?" "Told you before. Man gives you two roads, you take the third." The cowboy sure knew how to phrase a line, for someone that barely said two words. "He never asked to be a part of your group," the Hive-Mind says suddenly, and I realize he is leaning on the wall right next to Doc and my past self. Not that either of them seem to notice. "He came into the OWF looking for his own path, his own glory. A man of solitude, he struggled to handle the companionship you tried to offer." "It's just lonely sometimes. Never knowing who to trust, who not to trust. Always expecting somebody to betray you, somebody to stab you in the back..." I say to Doc, in the past. "We all got it coming." That reply he's famous for, seems to fit every conversation just fine. "Though he never asked to share gold with the Jackrabbit, never sought to walk in step, he always stuck to his own moral code. He'd never lie to you, never cause you unjust harm, never betray you.." "I know that. I think he could have helped 'Rabbit, you know?" I say. "They coulda helped each other. If he coulda just found a way to share his life with somebody else..." "Sharesies! Sharrrrrresies!!!" "'Rabbit!" I shout, spinning around, not even thinking. There he is, long blonde hair loose about his shoulders, sunshades covering his eyes, a pair of blue plaid long shorts beneath a black OWF t-shirt. The Jackrabbit, exactly as I remember him, exactly as he was for five long years of travelling the globe. 'Rabbit runs at me, arms open wide for a hug and I brace myself ready for impact. This is gonna hurt. Except it doesn't. Because he goes right through me, and cascades into another version of me, a younger, happier version of me. I watch as we sprawl around on the ground. 'Rabbit trying to share hugs. Me trying to... un-share them. "'Rabbit, 'Rabbit... why... are you... hugging me..?" I hear myself ask. "Because I likes to share thingses with you cos you's my bestest friend!" "He's not like that anymore," I tell the Hive-Mind plainly. "I used to pretend like I hated him that way. If he wanted ice-cream, I wanted a sandwich. If he wanted to go to a theme park, I had files to send. If he wanted to bounce up and down and give me flying hugs, I wanted as much distance as possible." "He saw through your pretence," the Hive-Mind says, and for the first time he lays a hand on my shoulder. His hand is gloved, black leather, resting on the shoulder padding of my suit jacket. "He knew you cared, even when you said you didn't. He knew you enjoyed it, even when you forced a frown. And he knew... he knew that you left everybody else behind to be by his side." I frown. The shadow of the Jackrabbit tries to start a pillow fight. "It wasn't my choice to leave them all behind..." "But you did it. And you did it for him. And though it wasn't your choice, you made it your task. You guided him through the rocky relationship of Fusion in HSW and NLW. You guided him through the unlikely pairing with Doc Holloway in OWF, and the torment that Talon put him in throughout , through the torment that Dynamo and Slayer brought down on him when he walked alone..." "I failed though. They broke him..." "But you didn't. Through all your pretences, he remains the only person you have never walked away from. And the only person he has got left. The only person you have never betrayed." And then it hits me. The reason I am here. The answer, conspicuous only by its absence. "But somebody did." I say, and the Hive-Mind only nods. "Vanilla."