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Kayfabe

Kayfabe

"Y'know for the record," I grunt while circling Padu cautiously in the squared circle, "The Drifter is a pretty lame name. I would have preferred something like Marauder. Or maybe Outlaw. That would have been cooler."

Padu doesn't bother to reply and instead lunges forward like a tidal wave of magically augmented muscle. The giant midget is incredibly fast, probably thanks to all the physical augmentation he's currently under. In a blink of an eye, Padu has already grabbed me by both arms, his fingers digging hard enough into my skin to leave bruises.

Oh fuck. I'm about to get manhandled. My training as a sorcerer never covered this. Shouldn't I have pro wrestling powers right now? I even have an, admittedly lame, ring name.

Logical. Reconciliation accepted.

Strength floods my limbs and I instinctively lean into Padu, grappling him with equal fervor. Padu had been attempting to lift me up for a throw, but quickly manage to shift my weight, forcing him to abort that plan. The announcers roar over the speakers.

PADU AND THE DRIFTER LOCK HORNS!

"Go Padu!" the Fat Kid yells at the top of his voice, batter crumbs spilling all over his shirt.

"Wrestling's fake you little shit!" I scream back at the Fat Kid while the crowd boos at me for stating the obvious.

Padu pushes me hard and I'm sent charging towards the ropes. Holy shit, is this guy strong. Before I can grab at the ropes to brake my momentum, the ropes catapult me back toward Padu. The giant midget lowers his stance and tenses, ready to deliver his follow up.

PADU WITH THE ISIAH WHIP!

I can't stop myself from running at Padu, no thanks to the rules of this Reconciliation. But that doesn't mean I'm helpless. As long as I play the part of the pro wrestler, I'll be able to fight back.

Dropping to my knees, I let the momentum carry me forward in a slide. Padu's eyes widen as my hand lashes out with an open handed slap right to his face. The blow connects with the force of a thundercrack and Padu is sent reeling backward as if I had clubbed him with a metal bat.

Good. Pro wrestling rules in this reconciliation do work in my favor as well. In that sense, the Fat Kid's world is pretty impartial. I get back to my feet and start delivering repeated right hooks into Padu's head, gradually forcing him backward toward the turnbuckle.

THE DRIFTER ON THE OFFENSIVE!

I take the opportunity to glance at the Fat Kid and am rewarded with disappointment. I had hoped that the Fat Kid would be upset at the sight of me kicking his childhood hero's ass, but he's remarkably composed. Still has plenty of confidence in Padu I suppose. So that means I need to keep hammering away -

"RARRGH!" Padu snarls, throwing spittle into my face. Both his hands seize me by the shoulders and chuck me into the turnbuckle before I can react. My spine feels like liquid fire from the impact and I actually need to blink out stars from my eyes.

And the first thing I see is Padu's arm slashing at me like a knife.

THE BEAST WITH THOSE BIG CHOPS!

Padu's arm slams into my chest with a resounding crash and the crowd goes wild. Both my legs are sent jerking upward and the breath is literally smacked right out of my lungs. As I whimper impotently, Padu delivers another chop to my torso, this time nearly causing me to vomit.

"Beast! Beast! Beast!" the crowd cheers as Padu returns to the center of the ring to flex. I stagger out of the turnbuckle, trying to sneak up on the Beast, but the pain is too much. My legs fail me and I faceplant on to the ring. Padu flips me over and goes for the pin. The referee begins the count.

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IS IT OVER? IS IT OVER?

Color bleeds out from the world and I sense my potential being leeched away by the Fat Man. Panic rouses me to my senses and I desperately kick with my legs, breaking the pin.

TWO COUNT. NOT QUITE ENOUGH. THE DRIFTER PUTTING UP MORE OF A FIGHT THAN EXPECTED!

"Screw you!" I curse at no one in particular as I dangle upside down, thanks to Padu going for the suplex. The man's showboating, keeping me suspended while he casually walks about the ring. The crowd starts stomping on the floor in chorus again, really getting into the spirit of things.

Padu abruptly steadies himself and I realize that he's going to drop me. Thinking fast, I jab Padu's eyes with my fingers and the giant midget obligingly yelps in pain. His grip on me slackens and I take the opportunity to slip from his grasp with a flip, landing lightly on both feet. The referee immediately gets into my face, gesticulating angrily.

"First warning! Another one and you're disqualified!" the referee barks.

Pushing past that nuisance, I realize that Padu still hasn't recovered from my cheap attack. Grabbing my opponent by the waist, I sling him backward with all my might and hear a meaty thud as Padu hits the ring hard. Wasting no time, I'm all over Padu, pummeling away with one hand while the other tries to snatch away the casting focus hanging from Padu's neck. But no matter how hard I pull, the chain the focus dangles from refuses to break. It might as well be made out of titanium.

The Fat Kid smirks at me from where he sits and his wordlessly moves his mouth. I hiss in dismay as I understand the smug message.

No breaking kayfabe.

Meaning no easy way out. I'm slated to fight Padu the Beast, not Padu the midget. And this reconciliation is going to do its damnest to make sure everybody plays by the rules.

Clicking my tongue, I stop beating away at Padu and begin climbing the turnbuckle. Playing by pro wrestling rules means taking Padu out with a spectacular high impact move. Punching him repeatedly while he's down isn't going to cut it. I stand on the top turnbuckle as the crowd starts booing me again. And when Padu drunkenly climbs back up to his feet, I throw myself off the turnbuckle with a flying leap.

FLYING CROSS BODY! THE DRIFTER IS GOING FOR THE FLYING CROSS BODY!

And Padu easily catches me out of the leap.

WHAT A SHOW OF ATHLETICISM BY THE BEAST!

The world spins about as my entire body is flipped in a single smooth motion. Padu's knee stabs into my back and all the feeling goes out of the lower half of my body. Was that a backbreaker?

OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! BACKBREAKER! BACKBREAKER!

Yeah. Shit this really hurts. Padu better not pin me right now.

To my relief, Padu instead pulls me back up to my feet. But that relief his short lived as my head is roughly shoved under the giant midget's sweaty crotch. Padu grabs my sides and secures his grip on my body.

THIS IS IT! WE'RE GETTING THE PADU POWERBOMB FOLKS!

No, No! If I'm hit by a finishing move, pro wrestling rules say that its over! Padu starts lifting me but I seize one of his tree trunk like legs for dear life. Padu yanks at me hard, but he can't get me to relinquish my grip. Both of us are deadlocked, neither side able to force the other into giving way. Then Padu starts delivering his massive elbow into my still sore back. My knees buckle and my hands slide free from Padu's leg. The giant midget forces me back into the powerbomb position as the crowd begins to go wild.

They can smell it. My blood in the water.

And a soft, calm voice cuts through the cacophony like a knife through butter.

"Hello Seeker."

Breath. Breath is sitting among the spectators. How did he get here? My arms quest outward, waiving weakly, trying to signal that I need help. Like right now.

Breath merely nods and gets up from his seat. He almost glides toward the ring before climbing on to the apron. A raspy cough from the ridiculous looking monk attracts the referee's attention.

"Excuse me sir." Breath pulls at the sleeve of the referee's shirt.

"Get out of here!" the referee immediately begins berating Breath. And in that moment of distraction, I seize my opening for all its worth.

My fist strikes Padu's nuts with authority and the man screeches like a freshly neutered cat. Strength leaves my opponent's body as he slowly topples to the ground. Noticing that the referee's back is still turned, I quickly deliver another shot to Padu's balls with all my might. I then quickly cover the Beast in a pin while Breath gestures frantically, telling the referee to get counting.

"You cheater!" the Fat Kid objects shrilly as the referee's hand slaps the mat once, twice and -

Padu tosses me off as if I weighed no more than a rag. From the corner of my eye, I see Breath being chased around outside the ring by the thin guy in a suit, most likely Padu's manager.

"Its never easy, isn't it?" I crack my knuckles as Padu lumbers back up, still wincing from the low blow. The championship bout was never going to be easy, but at least with Breath in my corner, I've got a fighting chance.

The next exchange is going to decide the match. I can feel it in my bones. The crowd is getting feverish. They can sense the climax approaching as well.

My eyes meet Padu's and we nod at each other silently. A wordless declaration is made.

And the final clash begins.