David Helms :: "As Dangerous As They Come"

One sentence, four measly little words. It shouldn’t be as possible as it is to instill so much fear into someone with such a short and sweet phrase as “we need to talk” and yet it’s so much more than what it suggests. And while the phrase “I love you” can melt even the coldest of hearts and bridge even the widest of caps, “we need to talk'' has put fear into the hearts of humankind for years... rarely would you hear those four words, only for an enjoyable conversation to follow, at any rate.

When David Helms uttered them to his wife outside of the Los Angeles Police Department headquarters, it definitely wasn’t with a view to holding an enjoyable conversation, even if it wasn’t going to be the conversation associated with such a phrase.

Finally free from police custody, with all charges mysteriously but also thankfully dropped, David had known that while he wasn’t exactly off the hook, things would at least be a little better for him than they would have been had Nathan Eacott gone through with wanting to press charges. After all, whatever his reasoning, regardless of the justification he felt that he had, David had broken the law and the charges against him were more than legitimate. He’d trespassed on property he had no right to be on, he had assaulted more than one person, and when the cop told him that they could probably even spin a charge of attempted murder if they tried, David even had to admit that wasn’t too much of a stretch either, even if a jury may not go as far as buying that one. If this had gone to a court of law, the chances of him getting away with what he’d done were as slim as the chances of Asher Hayes passing a drugs test when not given appropriate time to study.

But when he was released, David knew that while he wasn’t out of the woods thanks to Elias’ warning indicating as such, he at least had a reprieve. He could tell Regan everything in his own time and on his own terms rather than having to explain because she had been called to bail him out… so when she turned up at the precinct after he’d been let go, David wasn’t just ashamed of the situation she had found him in, but angry that she had to find him that way too.

How they fuck had they got her number to call her in the first place? Why had they called her?! David hadn’t asked for them to do that, he hadn’t provided any numbers in which to do so. He’d used his own call to contact Lucas and ask him to sort out the money should he need bailing out… he’d done what he could to keep Regan out of this, even though he knew he’d have to tell her about everything eventually. So for her to simply turn up like she had, it seemed more than just coincidental… it seemed like it was planned! And David was unable to shake that thought, once it entered his brain; the circumstances were just far too deniable for him to accept that somehow, the police had tracked down Regan’s unlisted number in order to notify her that her husband had been arrested, when they didn’t do any more than the minimum work required under normal circumstances. Even in a high profile case involving a celebrity, the likelihood of them doing what was claimed to have happened was slim to none when they already believed David’s attorney had been attending the precinct to deal with things!

This had to be Eacott, this had to be part of his plot to screw David over and force him into selling the gym, it just had to be! It was too much of a coincidence to be anything else! And given the speed in which Elias had slinked off at Regan’s sudden appearance, if David was any judge then it was him that Regan had spoken to on the phone all along!

The car journey was spent in total silence, save for David’s failed attempts to get any sort of dialogue going between himself and his wife; every time he started, Regan shushed him, a short staccato ‘ah’ or a raised finger, silencing him before he could even get started. Evidently she had no intention of talking about this in the car, and chose to sit there quietly seething instead, which made the whole thing worse because it left David to stew in his own shame and embarrassment as they made the drive back to their home up in the hills.

The street was clear as they pulled off of Mulholland and waited for the gate to swing open automatically; it seemed to take an age to open wide enough to allow them to pass through it, but they were soon moving along the driveway, leaving the gate to roll shut behind them again, and no sooner had the engine cut off at the end of the drive, Regan was out and marching towards the front door. If there were any doubts in David’s mind about how much trouble he was in with his wife, that image told more than enough of a story to remove them completely. He was in deep trouble, and no amount of denial could cover that one up.

“What in the fuck were you thinking?!” Regan yelled at him the minute he stepped through the door, somehow saving her anger up until the moment they were inside before unleashing both barrels at once. It was almost enough to make him stumble backwards, the sudden outburst hitting him before he’d even taken more than two steps inside the house, but he managed to remain steady on his feet and close the door behind him at least. “Well?! Why the fuck do I have LAPD calling me to tell me my husband’s been fucking arrested Dave?!” she demanded, throwing his arms out in frustration as she stood there expectantly waiting for whatever David’s excuse was going to be. “Assault, battery, trespassing, destruction of property, the fucking list goes on and you’re pulling the deer in headlights act on me?!” Regan fired at him as David looked away, shaking his head as he tried to get rid of the expression he must have been wearing for Regan to say that to him. “Don’t fucking ignore me Dave, I swear to god…”

“I’m not ignoring anything,” David said calmly, refusing to allow his own emotions to spill over, given how much damage that had already done that day. He removed his jacket and walked to the closet door to hang it up inside before turning back around. “I’m not trying to hide from anything right now, you should know me better than that…”

“I thought I knew you better than anyone, but the David I thought I knew wouldn’t damn near kill someone!” Regan shot back at him, folding her arms defiantly across her chest as she impatiently waited for an explanation. “Well?!”

A heavy sigh escaped the near-forty year old New Jerseyite, his shoulders slumping to fall in line with both his ego and his opinion of himself in that moment. “I fucked up…”

“Ya think?!” Regan barked; already frustrated with her husband, his apparent willingness to explain himself was only making her temper worse.

And it wasn’t as if he was doing that intentionally, but in that moment David found himself struggling to figure out how to even begin explaining both the situation and his action. Not only was the entire situation fucked from the start, but he’d made his own fair share of fuckups along the way, not just where his arrest earlier that afternoon was concerned, but the whole way along the fucked up journey that had led them to this very conversation. “Can we sit down?” David asked, feeling deflated. “I need coffee, or maybe something stronger if I’m going to go through this from the beginning…”

Regan glared at him, an uncomfortable silence enveloping them both for maybe two or three seconds before snorted and turned on her heels to head for the kitchen, leaving David to follow in her wake, feeling like a naughty school child or the disappointment of the family. His brother would be pissed off he was about to lose his crown as the self-titled Black Sheep. In the kitchen, David found Regan already in the cabinet, retrieving two glass tumblers, a bottle of rum already hanging from her other hand as she grabbed the glasses and turned to march towards the table. “Sit,” she instructed and David didn’t even think twice about questioning the order, taking a seat at the table as Regan sat down across from him. She poured them both a glass and slid one across the table to David. “Well? I’m waiting…”

David looked at his wife for a moment before grabbing the glass and draining it in one. Dutch courage, you know how it is. “I guess I have to start from the beginning, because this is bigger than just what happened today…”

“There’s more? You mean more than you being arrested?” Regan asked and David nodded.

“This whole thing doesn’t just start with what happened today, babe…” David told her, trying to find the right way of starting to explain. “It started a few months ago, a little after Rise to Greatness I guess...”

“Dave, it’s October!” Regan spat at him, her nostrils flaring in anger as he nodded his head, while reaching out for the bottle that sat between them. He didn’t need that pointing out to him, given what was on the horizon in a little under two weeks, with his title defence against Bree and Tommy due to take place at Under Attack. But that didn't change the fact that to explain everything, he had to go back to where it all began...

He gave his glass a refill and didn’t bother to screw the cap back on as he set the bottle back down. “I know that babe, I do… but I also said that I’d fucked up more than just today… so youre gonna have to give me the time to actually explain everything if you want to know what the fuck today was all about…”

“Don’t give me fucking attitude after today, Dave!” Regan told him, only to come up short as David slammed a fist down on the table, making their glasses and the bottle of rum jump under the force of the blow.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his nose before he finally opened his eye and looked at his wife, hoping he looked at least half as apologetic as he felt. “Sorry, just… look, let me talk, okay?” David asked. “I’ll explain it, all of it… but if you want to know what the fuck is going on, you need to let me get it all out, because there’s a lot to unpack and if you’re going to get pissed off every time I tell you something you don’t like we’ll be here a long time…”

It was obvious that she still wasn’t happy with David or the situation they were in… but after a moment's consideration, Regan gave a single nod of her head. “Fine,” she said, gesturing for him to continue as she picked her glass up from the table and took a drink.

David went to take a drink of his own but decided against it, pushing it away from himself. He didn’t need alcohol in his system on top of everything else, that was bound to do nothing but exacerbate the situation. He stood up from the table and instead walked to the fridge to grab the orange juice, grabbing another glass from the kitchen cabinet before turning back to the table with the carton. “Rise to Greatness had come and gone, and obviously I’d signed the paperwork to sell everything to D. and was eager to get things moving with the dojo,” he started to explain, taking a moment to poor himself a glass of juice which he took a sip from before continuing. “I managed to talk Lyndon Allen into pulling the building from auction and sell to me, and Heath made sure the deal was completed quicker than I expected… only it turns out I’d stepped on some shoes in the process…”

“Stepped on some--” Regan started to say but backtracked due to the look David gave her and she held her hands up defensively, so that he could continue.

“It turns out I wasn’t the only one who wanted the place,” Dave continued to explain, placing his glass down again. “The douchebag I assaulted today… he’s some rich asshole businessman that had his eyes on the same building and was hoping to get it cheap at auction in order to convert it into condos and make a massive profit on the deal,” he went on; he was trying to keep it brief but get all the important details in there so that Regan had the whole picture and that was easier said than done, or so it felt to him at any rate, as he tried to explain the story that led to his arrest. “The day I took Matty down there to show him around and talk about what I wanted to do with the place… Matty ended up… jesus, this is gonna sound so fucking melodramatic, but Matty ended up saving my life.”

Regan’s eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean he ended up saving your life?!”

“The guy I assaulted today. Eacott…” David answered, his hand subconsciously moving to rub at the skin on his neck, as he remembered how scared he’d been the day after Thaddeus attacked him. “He’s the guy who’s toes I trod on when I convinced Lyndon Allen to sell the gym to me.”

“No, back up a minute; what the fuck does this have to do with Matty saving your life?!” Regan asked, looking to understand how the fuck they’d reached this point of the conversation. “Are you saying this Eacott guy attacked you first or something, and today was revenge?”

David shrugged. After all, Regan wasn’t far wrong with what she’d asked, even if the explanation wasn’t quite right. “Not him, no,” he said, shaking his head as he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and Regan’s eyes flickered to the table briefly at the noise as she’d clearly heard it as well, but David ignored it. “Eacott turned up at the gym while Matty and I were taking a look around. He’d gone to check out the first floor while I was still down on the ground floor by myself, and Eacott shows up with his big hired thug of a bodyguard, Thaddeus… he told me he’d been trying to contact me for a while, but he’d been calling AnteUp, not knowing about everything that had happened…”

“Shows how little research he did then,” Regan said and David nodded.

“I said as much myself,” David agreed. “Told him I didn’t have anything to do with the place anymore, but he didn’t seem to care. Guess why would he, given it wasn’t why he was there anyway…”

“So why was he there?” Regan asked.

“He wanted to buy the gym from me,” David explained, as his phone started vibrating again, but once again he ignored it. “Like I said, I stepped on some toes… he told me about why he wanted the place and offered me above what I paid for it to sell to him, but obviously I refused. He didn’t like that.”

“He attacked you?” Regan asked, looking a little surprised.

David shook his head. “Not him, but his bodyguard or assistant or whatever… the guys a fucking ape, I swear. I’m not a pussy babe, but this guy… I felt him literally choking the damn life out of me before Matty turned up to save the day.”

“This guy tried to choke you out over a lost business opportunity?!” Regan asked, a lot of the edge in her voice broken away now as she looked concerned at how shaken David still seemed about the whole ordeal.

“His hired ape did, yeah,” David said, nodding. “Among other things…”

Regan’s eyes narrowed. “What other things?” she asked, staring at David impatiently.

“He basically threatened to make my life hell until he got what he wanted,” David admitted, as the sound of Regan’s phone buzzing came from her purse on the kitchen worktop. She ignored it though and David turned back to look at his wife, before sighing. “He suggested or hinted or whatever, that he was behind Lyndon’s company losing the contracts that would bankroll him turning the gym into condo’s, forcing him to sell in the first place… how the place almost seemed cursed, that it would be a shame if someone was to ensure my plans were to fail or the gym went bust before we even got started...

“That crooked bastard,” Regan said, slamming a hand down to slap the table before turning away…

“Then monkey man grabs me by the throat and damn-near chokes me out,” David admitted, feeling the same sense of shame he had done the day it happened. Powerless and feeble. “If Matty hadn’t been there, I dread to think what might have happened…”

Regan, despite her open hostility earlier in the conversation, reached out and took her husbands hand in her own, gripping it tightly. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, babe?” she asked, looking irritated by holding back. “If you were dealing with this shit, you should have said something!”

“There’s more,” David said, not wanting to accept her sympathy when he wasn’t sure he deserved it. Regan didn’t take her hand away as he’d expected her to, but her grip definitely slackened a little. “The next day, you asked about going to see the place, told me how Jay wanted to take the first swing of the hammer when we got construction underway…”

“I remember the conversation. You seemed way off but told me you were just under pressure because of everything you had to work out with the gym,” Regan said and David nodded.

“Yeah, and it wasn’t untrue,” David told her defensively. “I mean, I did have a lot of shit that I had to figure out before construction could get underway, but… well, I’d be lying if I said that my mind wasn’t mostly distracted by what had happened the previous afternoon,” he went on, sliding his hand out of her grip to run both of his hands through his hair, holding his head in his hands for a moment before forcing himself to keep going. “Then you took your mom for a treatment or one of her routine appointments and I sat here, running over everything that happened, wondering if I should just admit defeat and sell the place for a profit and find another vacant building instead… until I had a visitor turn up out of the blue.”

“What, turn up here?” Regan asked, motioning to the house.

David nodded. “Yeah,” he muttered. “And I don’t mean they arrived at the gates, I mean they walked up to me out on the deck, full on just Houdini’d their way inside… jumped the fence…” he added, preempting Regan’s next question. “It was a guy called Elias. Elias Crane. Knew him from years ago, as crooked as a corkscrew, solves problems, by any means necessary type of deal…”

“Let me guess… hired by Eacott?” Regan asked and David nodded his head. “Jesus, Dave,” she groaned, sitting back and throwing her hands up. “So what, now we’re dealing with this asshole instead?!” David shook his head, and Regan looked confused. In his pocket, his phone started vibrating yet again, and he took a moment to pull out his phone to make sure it wasn’t something important that he was missing, given this was the third call now. He didn’t recognise the number though, so he cancelled the call and put the phone back in his pocket. “What do you mean no?” Regan asked, confused.

“I told you, I knew Elias from a few years ago, we have history…” David explained, though he could see why Regan wouldn’t just instinctively understand the situation. “And while I wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him at first because I assumed that same as you clearly just did… it turned out that Elias was looking for a way out. To go legit. And wanted to use this as his way out. Not to just help me deal with Eacott, but get away from things himself. He basically told me that he planned to help me instead of ruin me, and ensure it was Eacott that saw his empire fall when all was said and done…”

Regan looked on as her husband explained, and despite the fact he thought he was being clear, her face didn’t show that she was following. “Okay, so crooked Crane is gonna work for you instead… but how does that get us to you being arrested for assault among other things?!”

“My emotions got the better of me…” David admitted, closing his eyes as he mentally berated his own stupidity for the seven hundredth time that day. “I’m such a fucking idiot… I overreacted. I lost my mind, or leave of my senses or whatever… it was such an obvious fucking play, and I took the damn bait!”

David, angry with himself, stood up and stepped away from the table, pacing until Regan’s voice dragged his attention back to her. “Babe, what the hell are you talking about? What was an obvious play?!”

“Elias warned me,” David said, waving a hand wildly in the air as he gestured at nothing in particular. “He told me that despite being team Helms or whatever, he was going to have to make it look like he was still working for Eacott, doing his dirty work,” he said, coming to a stop by the wall and leaning against it with both hands for a moment before turning back to face his wife. “And I thought I was okay with that. A little collateral damage here and there, let him run my name through the mud a little and then ultimately take Eacott down, I was on board… until this morning, when a courier delivers some expensive bottle of bubbly and a letter from Eacott…”

“Delivered here?” Regan said, her eyes widening. David nodded. “To our unlisted address?!”

Helms nodded again. “That’s exactly why I lost it,” he told his wife, folding his arms across his chest to tuck his hands under his armpits. A one man hug for comfort, almost. “It was Eacott playing fucking games! It was this bastard telling me that he knew where we lived, mentioned how you and Jay would take trips to the pier regularly, that Kath owned a little boutique on Rodeo, dragged so much shit up and sure, it all sounded innocent, but the undertones were fucking clear to see! And I thought it was Elias’ doing, so I went to see him, but he knew nothing about it and that’s when I knew it was Eacott himself, dabbling on the side!” David roared, just about managing to stop himself from turning and punching the wall before his fist got too close to the plaster. His shoulders sagged and he turned to face his wife again instead. “If anyone who didn’t know read that letter, it would look like nothing but an apology for a misunderstanding a couple months ago, a peace offering of expensive champagne and nothing more… but obviously I knew better because Elias had told me what was going on..”

She didn’t lash out or say anything immediately, but David could see that Regan’s knuckles had whitened as she clenched her fists on the table and he could see a vein throbbing in her neck from where he stood, some five feet away. “And that’s why you went there today?” Regan asked, though to David it felt more of a statement than a question. “To give him hell for making threats at the family?”

David nodded. “Pretty much,” he said, sighing heavily again. “I know, alright? I know I was a fucking idiot for storming in there like a damn bull in a china shop, for losing my temper and lashing out… but he threatened you and Jay, babe! That shit doesn’t fly with me, you know that…”

“Me either,” Regan said, looking up at her husband and David found that the way she was looking at him had changed. Yes, she still looked angry, but somehow, and David couldn’t exactly put a finger on it, but somehow her anger appeared different to before. It didn’t seem to be with him anymore, for want of a better explanation. “And I’d have done exactly the same if I was in your shoes… but what the fuck were you thinking trying to deal with this alone, Dave?!” she asked, and there it was, another flash of annoyance aimed at him again. “After all the shit you’ve given me over the course of our relationship about not keeping you in the dark or trying to deal with stuff alone and then you do this?! What the fuck, babe!”

David’s head hung low. “I know…” was all he managed, as Regan’s phone started vibrating again from across the kitchen, with his own phone starting up in his pocket less than a second later.

“Don’t just say ‘I know’, Dave!” Regan told her husband. “Look at me!” she instructed and David brought his head back up to look at his wife, though he found it difficult to hold her gaze when he did do so. “I know I’m one to talk when it comes to keeping stuff to myself, given everything I’ve tried to shoulder myself over the years… but I’ve tried this past twelve months, haven’t I? I’ve tried to be open about my issues and let you in, right?” she asked and David simply nodded. “Then why the fuck didn’t you do the same, huh? Babe, you were attacked! Aside from the other shit, don’t you think I deserve to know about something like that?!”

“I didn’t want to worry you…” was all David managed before Regan cut him off again.

“That was a bullshit excuse when I was trying to use it, so do you really expect me to accept it from you?” the brunette asked him, just about holding off from rolling her eyes at her husband as she spoke. “I don’t care how much you feel you need to protect me or how you don’t want me to worry, because I’m not weak, Dave. I--”

David shook his head vehemently as he cut his wife off. “No no no,” he said, quick to stop her from going any further. “Babe, it was never about weakness or some bullshit idea that I didn’t think you could handle it… I just didn’t want to pile on when you’ve been going through so much shit with your mom. Then there’s the issues with Xander and everything else… I’m supposed to be your rock. How could I pile more on your plate when I’m supposed to be your support right now?!”

“David Helms, that’s the most cliched manly man bullshit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth!” Regan chastised her husband, and she almost managed to laugh at him, though her conflicting emotions put a stop to it from quite happening. “With everything going on in the world, with the push for men’s mental health being so prominent right now, are you honestly telling me that you thought you had to ‘man up’ and deal with it alone?!”

“I don’t mean it like that,” David protested as his phone once again started shaking up a storm in his pocket. In a fit of frustration he pulled it from his pocket and threw it across the room, fortunate that it landed on the couch in the corner by the doors to the deck instead of on the hard marble floor. “But with everything you’ve been going through with Giselle, I couldn’t bring myself to dump more on your already overloaded plate babe. It wasn’t fair on you!”

“So you struggled with it on your own instead?” Regan asked him with a scoff. “You’ve supported me every step of the way while mom was getting treatment, letting her come and stay with us, the stuff with AnteUp and Tommy’s head being stuck firmly up Kandis’ ass… and you figured that you could deal with even more pressure without help?” she added, lowkey pointing out how dumb he must be without actually saying the words.

Another sigh of frustration came from David before he nodded his head. “Like I said, I’m a fucking idiot,” he admitted, dejected. “I know what I did was dumb, okay? I should have told you about being attacked as soon as it happened, but… I was ashamed, Regs. Ashamed of myself for being so weak, embarrassed that I could let a big ape like him get hold of me. Call it ego, call it pride, whatever you like, but the idea of admitting what had happened was just too much for me to consider…”

“Babe…” Regan said softly, her voice full of care and concern. David looked up at her and she gave him a compassionate look that meant more to him than he could put into words.

“I know… not my proudest moment, huh?” David replied, his shoulders sagging. “When that package got delivered this morning though, it didn’t just trigger the negative thoughts I’d been having after his attage, but the red mist descended,” David said, before both he and Regan were distracted by the house phone ringing; both husband and wife turned to look at the cordless unit on the wall next to the intercom system for the gate at the end of the drive.

“Leave it,” Regan suggested but David shook his head.

“It could be Jay,” the New Jerseyite said, grabbing the phone and picking it up to place it to his ear. “Hello?”

“David Helms?” A woman’s voice asked, and one that David didn’t recognise either. He was about to ask who was calling, but was saved the effort when the caller quickly continued to speak after the shortest of pauses imaginable. “Bobbi Barret, Celebuzz dot com. I was wondering if you have any comment about the arrest on assault charges earlier today?”

“What the hell?” David asked, though he was definitely directing it to himself due to his own shock at the nature of the call than to the woman on the other end of the line. “How the fuck did you get this number?!” he demanded to know.

His temper flared even further when he heard the woman on the other end of the line give a little laugh, like she was laughing at him for being surprised that someone could track down his number. “It’s a lot easier than people imagine. So, comments? I’m sure the internet would love to hear your side of the story?”

“Here’s a comment,” David said, moving the phone away from his ear to hold it out a few inches in front of his face, as Regan got out of her chair and made her way over to her purse on the kitchen counter. “GO FUCK YOURSELF!” David shouted before slamming the phone back down on it’s cradle. “Un-fucking-belieavable,” David grunted as Regan pulled her phone out of her purse.

“Six missed calls and almost a dozen text messages,” the brunette said, unlocking her phone. “Defamer, Hollywood Reporter, Buzzfeed… jesus Dave, what the fuck?! How did they find out about this already? Was there a press release or something?”

“It’s Eacott,” David said monotonously, already knowing that it was that bastard who was behind this. “Elias warned me that this was probably coming; why drag me through the courts when he can drag me through the court of popular opinion instead?” he asked, shaking his head in disgust. “All of this for a fucking building!”

“I can’t believe this prick is pushing so hard for this,” Regan said, as she put her phone back down on the counter. As if on cue, it started to vibrate around in circles as another call came through. “This is fucking ridiculous!” she growled, resisting the urge to follow David’s lead by throwing the phone across the room, instead picking it up and shoving it back into her bag. “What the hell are we--” she started to say, before the buzzer for the intercom started ringing, making David half-jump as he turned to stare at it.

Hesitantly, the New Jerseyite reached out to tap the audio button. “Hello?”

“DAVE! DAVE, JAMIE BRYANT, TMZ, HOW ABOUT--” a man’s voice started shouting through the speaker, trying to be heard over some sort of ruckus happening in the background and wincing, David jabbed at the button again to cut him off.

“What the fuck was all that noise?!” Regan asked as she walked over to David, looking concerned. He shook his head; he had about as much of an idea what was going on his she did, thought whatever was going on, David suspected it wasn’t going to be anything good. “I’m taking a look,” the brunette finally said and she pushed the button for the little screen which connected to a wireless camera on the gate. Regan gasped as soon as the screen lit up, revealing a not just a couple people, but more than a dozen reporters or photographers hanging outside of the gates to their home, if not more than that. “Oh fuck you!” Regan spat, fuming at the image of the blood sucking vultures circling outside of their home. “This is fucking ridiculous… I’m going out there!” the Hellcat decided, turning to head for the door but before she could even go two steps, David had grabbed her wrist.

“Are you crazy?!” he asked, staring at his wife in disbelief. “You’re going out there? Fuck that! These assholes want that. They want me out there, or you. They want reactions. It doesn’t matter what reactions, just so long as it creates content for whatever pathetic websites or magazines they work for, and you going out there screaming ‘get off my lawn’ at these jerks is feeding them what they want!”

“Then we should call the cops!” Regan shot back at him, irked that he was stopping her and more so that he was right. “Get them to move those assholes on, just get them away from the gates. Off the street. Jay’s gonna be home soon and the neighbours are going to be talking so much shit about us if this continues on!”

“So I get arrested on assault charges and then the cops show up at the house right after I get released without charge?” David said, with a hollow laugh. “I’m sure that’ll not stir things up even more than they already are…”

“Well what the fuck are we going to do then?!” Regan asked, throwing her arms up in frustration. “They can’t stay out there, and we can’t just hide in here, hoping they fuck off on their own!”

David let out a groan; he knew she was right, of course. It was common sense that they couldn’t just continue on as if nothing was wrong while a bunch of gossip reporters and paparazzi hung around outside of their home, waiting to grab a scoop that would fill column inches or a photograph that would make them a few grand. But what could he do? If he went out there, he was going to get into an argument, he knew that much. Same with Regan. And calling the cops was out for the reasons he’d just given Regan too. And Jay was on his way home soon, so they needed to clear the area before he got there, because the last thing David wanted was for Jay to get home from his friends birthday pizza party to a bunch of blood sucking reporters waiting to snap photos of him being collected at the gate by either of them. “Fuck it,” Dave said, and he turned to rush over to the couch where his phone had landed when he tossed it away earlier. He didn’t bother looking at his notifications as he unlocked the screen, but instead navigated to the settings as he started to explain what he was going to do. “Okay so I’m setting my phone to do not disturb unless the caller I.D is in my phone already,” he told Regan, pressing away on the screen a few times before locking his phone again and looking back over his wife. “When Jay gets here, call me. I want to know he’s safe and gets home without problems,” he added as he patted his pockets, checking he had his keys. He then turned and walked over to the kitchen sideboard, sliding open a drawer that seemed to be filled with random junk.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Regan asked, confused by his sporadic behaviour as he appeared to find what he was looking for in the drawer. Pulling out a second set of keys, he tossed them in the air and caught them again, a look of triumph on his face. “Are those the spare keys for Jason and Aniya’s place?!” she asked, and David nodded.

He tossed them in the air and caught them again, grinning. “Got it in one,” David said, nodding his head in the direction of the boundary between his home and the land that belonged to Jason and Aniya, his brother and sister-in-law, who owned the adjacent house to their own. “Here’s the plan; I’m going over the wall to their place, I’m gonna lend Jason’s car, and see if I can take the vultures outside by surprise and draw them into following me,” he explained, but Regan started shaking her head enthusiastically.

“No way babe, no fucking way,” she said, waving one hand back and forth across the side of her neck, as if telling him to kill the idea. “That’s got to be the worst idea I’ve heard from you in forever!”

“So what, I should let those creeps just hang around out there?” David reasoneed, and Regan opened her mouth to answer but seemed lost for a response. “Exactly,” David said, jumping on her apparently lack of suggestion as a means of convincing her it was the best option. “Is it a great plan? Not really. But it’s something… and I know the area better than those douche canoes are going to. I’ll lose them and spend a while on a nice relaxing drive and when Jay is home, I’ll make my way back and we can figure out what we do in the long term…”

“This is nuts,” Regan said, walking towards him, placing her hands on his chest in a bid to try and convince him to stay. “We can call security, get them up here to move them on!” she suggested, but David shook his head.

“They’ll just call the cops because of the numbers,” he countered, and Regan knew he was right. It had happened the previous summer when fans of some dumb youtuber that had just moved into the neighborhood turned up at his house and were causing chaos in the street outside. They just called the cops instead of doing anything themselves and this would be no different. How much can two guys in a golf cart actually do, anyway? “Look, don’t worry… just call me on my cell when Jay’s home, alright?” he added, leaning forward to kiss her quickly before turning to head for the door that led outside to the deck.

“BE CAREFUL!” he heard Regan calling after him as he closed the door behind him and made for the path which led to the pool equipment shed; the gates where on the opposite side of the house, and unless they had guys with telescopic cameras way way up in the hills on his place right now, nobody would be able to see him cut behind the shed to the wall between his and Jason and Nia’s place, because it was blocked from view by a cluster of trees that rat up one side of the house and all way along the driveway.

He was over the wall before anyone would have been able to see him anyway, and then it was just a matter of navigating the corresponding line of trees on this side, to the rear of the house and the door that led into the garage. He let himself in with the bunch of keys and cancelled the alarm using the code that Jason had given him more than a year earlier before flicking on the light. There were two cars in the garage, Aniya’s black G-Wagon and Jason’s souped upTesla Model-S. This is gonna be weird David thought to himself as he approached the Tesla, the doors unlocking as he approached thanks to the fob on the set of keys in his hand and he jumped in, placing the keys down in the tray on the centre console before spending a good thirty seconds just trying to figure out how the hell you even started the thing. Give him a good old fashioned gas guzzling engine any day, climate change be damned. This was worse than trying to play Fortnite with his kid!

He got there eventually, and managed to get the car rolling towards the garage door, which started to slide up as the car approached thanks to the sensor in the car’s dashboard. He was already halfway up the drive before the garage door began to roll back down again behind him, and David made sure to roll his window down to about half way before he reached the gates. He waited, nervous, as the gate opened automatically, only pulling through one it was fully open, giving himself time to look at the gathered scumbags outside of his own gate. More had turned up since Regan had switched on the camera, but the numbers weren’t too bad yet. He had to get creative now, because no matter how hard he slammed his foot down on the accelerator, there would be no roar from the engine. Battery powered cars were lacking that sense of actual power, it’s why he’d never own one until he had no option. He opted for the stereo instead. He flicked through the cars music system until he found something on the memory that would have the desired effect and cranked the volume up before hitting play, filling the surrounding area with the sound of Black Flag’s “Rise Above”.

The gathered blood suckers all turned as one from the gate of his own house to look in David’s direction; some didn’t understand what was going on, but many did. Several rushed straight off to their own vehicles, while others turned to start snapping. One or two started running towards David, which he took as his cue. “Let’s see what this thing can do,” he said to himself as he slipped the car back into drive and slammed his foot down. He was right, it did feel horrible to hear no roar of a v12 as the car lurched forward at speed, though the gravel of the road sounded just as gratifying as the tyres fought for purchase on the loose surface, the back tires spinning out a little as he shot west up Mulholland. “Come on… come on…” he shouted, his eyes constantly flicking up to the rearview to see how many cars would come into view. He daren’t put his foot down for fear that he’d lose anyone who was chasing after him, and if that happened they’d no doubt just go right back to his place. A deep sense of satisfaction hit him when he saw at least four of the cars from the street outside his house were now following.

“That’s it, that’s it…” David shouted in delight as one of the cars in particular made a push to get right up behind him, and in the rearview he could see some asshole in the passenger seat aiming a camera at him through the windshield as the driver tried to keep up to him. The car’s driving system tried to warn David about his speed, but he ignored the warnings as he took corners far too fast, barreling along Mulholland like something out of a movie, as the cars continued to keep up; he wanted to hold them in his view for as long as possible before ditching them when it was safe to do so.

“Come on, you can do better than this, bro!” David cried, watching as one of the vehicles, a nondescript van, started to lag behind. He knocked the speed down a notch to give them a chance to catch up. He needed them tailing him as long as possible. As the road started to incline, he got a better view behind him, and there was actually six cars following, not four… at least he hoped they were all following, and not just a couple of random cars heading in the same direction… but he didn’t have time to worry about that. His eyes went back to the road and he took another corner at speed, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car travelling in the opposite direction. Horns blared from both the other car and the Tesla David was driving, but he continued on only the weaving, winding road, up into the hills. He knew the roads would only open out in front of him the further along Mulholland he went, and that was good, because the sooner he was away from densely populated areas, the better.

“Fuck!” he cried out as he hit a slick patch and the rear of the car bucked out behind him, but he fought for control and managed to level things up again before the next bend. Right around the next corner David thought to himself, knowing a fork in the road was coming up, which would either let him head north into the hills or south into Hollywood.

He’d take the bastards on a wild goose chase in the middle of nowhere before unleashing every single one of the horses in the electric motor. If Tesla wanted to impress him, this was their chance.

Whether Tesla would get the chance to do so or not though, David wasn’t sure he was going to find out. As he rounded the next corner and came up to the fork in the road, the way north was blocked with barriers signalling working was being carried out further up the road, and David had to tap the brakes to slow down enough to head down the left side of the split. “Not good, not good,” David said to himself as he started down the road that would take him south and directly into heavy traffic of Sunset Boulevard. .

He could take some of the smaller twisting streets and try and lose these guys in the rabbit warren of homes, but half of them were dead ends, and while he knew the area well enough, he wasn’t one hundred percent which were safe and which would leave him with nowhere to run.

He had no other choice. He had to navigate down to Sunset and then hope he could lose them in traffic. He crested a hill at speed and felt the Tesla leave the ground for a split second, but as the tyres crashed back down, he looked in the mirror and saw at least three of the cars still on his tale, with what he thought was a fourth lagging behind now. Had he lost two, or were they never part of the chase? He put his foot down and accelerated down the hill, slowing only as the roar veered right and headed back into the more densely populated parts of the hills. He was still speeding, but barely, as he weaved around parked cars and oncoming traffic and continued south, knowing that the intersection was coming that would put him on Sunset.

“Please be on green, please be on green,” he pleaded as he came to the final stretch of road before the intersection came into view, and as he caught sight of the lights, they were red. But it was glorious. How could he forget that this stretch was right on red?! Not that it mattered, because as he approached, the lights were just changing and he whipped the wheel to take the corner, the back end kicking out again as the tyres lost traction. He floored it, knowing that he could hopefully shake the remaining cars in the traffic if he tried hard enough, but even that wasn’t going to be easy, given traffic was lighter than he’d expected and what had been a worry at first, turned into a concern for the opposite reason!

“You gotta be shitting me,” Helms groaned as he flicked his eyes to the rearview and saw two of the cars were still following me. The car that had been right behind him the whole time and the nondescript van. He’d lost the rest, but those two were riding his bumper pretty hard. He knew he’d be able to lose the van if he actually put his foot down; the Tesla tapped out at a little north of two hundred and ten, there was no way a van was keeping up… but the red car looked like a new model Civic coupe, if he was any judge of things, and there wasn’t going to be much between the two of them. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” David said and he finally put his foot down to the floor, the wheels sliding a little as he accelerated.

As expected, they lost the van in no time at all, but the Civic was having no trouble keeping up as David zipped in and out of traffic. He was taking a lot of risks now, not just a few MPH over the limit but way beyond. He knew he wouldn’t have to do so for much longer though if he could just shake the Civic, and he ran a red light that had just changed in an effort to lose them, but the Civic followed suit, leaving a chorus of annoyed drivers hammering the horns of their cars behind them in their wake as they continued down Sunset, rapidly running out of road before the slipway for the San Diego Freeway!

David was adamant he wasn’t taking this onto the freeway, he couldn’t risk the heavy traffic that would be on there… but he hoped he wouldn’t need to. He slammed the brakes on and turned off of Sunset, heading north for Bel Air. The Civic was right on his tail though, as he flicked his eyes up to the rearview to check. It didn’t skip a beat!

“Jesus, just fucking give it up!” Helms barked at the reflection in the mirror before his phone pinging to say he’d got a text distracted him, and he turned his eyes away from the road for a second, no more, looking for what he’d done with his phone. Spotting it in the centre column, he turned his eyes back to the road, but it was a split second too late. He slammed on the brakes, trying his best to avoid the car that had reversed out of the owners driveway without looking, and while he didn’t hit the car, he did run the verge and lost control, the Tesla spinning wildly as David fought for control…

...but he was powerless, there was no stopping the inevitable; he had no hope of regaining control as the car slammed head first into an old, heavy, oak tree in someone’s front yard. The sickening crunch of metal crumpling under the force of the impact on the front nearside was second only to the sickening thud as David’s head connected with the central pillar when the safety belt locked up to try and protect him, and the blow was doubled when the airbag deployed and caught him in the opposite side of his head. He was punch-drunk and seeing stars as the Tesla span to an eventual stop, engine smoking, in the middle of someone’s lawn. He sat there, dazed and everything still spinning around him as the silent engine simple cut out and all the electrics went out, leaving only his phone lit up as he vaguely heard noise coming from it, but he was in no state to see his wife’s name or picture on the screen as she called him. He tried to get his bearings, tried to pull himself together and figure out what happened… but it was no good. The civic was long gone, though he hadn’t noticed that either. The last thing he heard before blacking out, other than his phone once again frantically vibrating on the floor of the car now, was the scrabble of someone trying to open the door to get to him before he blacked out. At least that stopped the world from spinning before him…

YouTube Livestream
Location: Dallas, Texas
Date: 03/13/2021

As the Youtube live stream begins, an image briefly flickers up on screen before bursting into an eye watering vision of pixels and static until the connection stabilizes enough to form a coherent picture and we finally get to see the stream as intended. And as it does, we see none other than David Helms on the screen, wearing a grey t-shirt with the new Living Dangerously Dojo logo on the front and a black jacket over the top of it as he stands in what appears to be a rooftop terrace bar, empty chairs and tables standing behind him as the view of a cityscape plays out in the background. “DALLAS TEXAS… WELCOME TO RETRIBUTION!” he shouts and there’s a few cheers and whoops from behind the camera by fans that are seemingly allowed to watch the stream take place.

“So where am I this time?” Helms asks, looking over his shoulder at the view before turning back to his phone. “Well, I guess the obvious is to state I’m in Dallas right now, given that’s where tomorrow night’s show takes place,” he suggest, nodding a little as he chuckles.

“But more specifically, this is the rooftop terrace bar of the Ritz-Carlton hotel, and while you can’t see it for other buildings blocking the way, just over my shoulder right there,” he says, pointing over his shoulder with his free hand. “Is the American Airlines Center, where a bunch of us are gonna be hoping to walk out by the end with a victory on our records and for some, opportunities ahead of them or new title belts in their possession.”

Helms shifts the camera to his other hand as he turns slightly to put more of the skyline in view. “I think it’s fair to say that this show is a stacked one, right?” he asks, and there’s another cheer from the small but rowdy group of fans watching on. “You take one look at the card and there’s some huge matches going on that you could spend an entire livestream discussing and only really scratch the surface… but honestly, right now, aside from feeling like I have to talk about the Scaffold Scramble, I also feel like anything but my full attention on my own match is just me wasting my time right now, if that makes sense?”

“Thing is, I kind of have to talk about the scaffold match, because I was the one who booked it,” he continues, as he walks over to the nearest table and takes a seat in a chair. “I used my trio’s contract to give eight other people an opportunity, and I suppose I should talk about the match or why I put those people in there or whatever you guys are probably expecting of me…”

Helms shrugs. “But at this point bro, at least where the why is concerned, does it really matter?” he asks. “I mean, the shows tomorrow night, the shine of the announcement has worn off and those eight people, ready or not, know what they have to do tomorrow night, whether I suddenly explain myself now or whether I leave it all up in the air. I had my reasons, and most of them are good ones… all apart from Ricky. That one’s just my special little way of apologising for kicking a chair in his face, obviously. Enjoy bro!” he adds, barely managing to hide a smirk as he continues.

“But while I obviously want to wish everyone in the scramble good luck, and while I’m interested to see who comes out with the briefcase in their possession, I’m not going to sit here and wax lyrical about it…”

“Because tomorrow night I’ve got my own match to worry about, and if Breakdown last week taught us anything, it’s that there’s plenty to worry about,” he adds as he continues, moving on from the scaffold match entirely. “I mean, fuck, that should be obvious anyway considering who we’re talking about here… Infamous as a name should drag up plenty of immediate and urgent concerns for anyone going up against them, regardless of how confident and or arrogant that person is.”

“Ravyn Taylor and Syren are no strangers to the top of this company and this business in general, and just on name value alone it should tell you all you need to know about how difficult this match is going to be,” Helms admits, nodding his head for a little extra emphasis. “I can admit that. I can be honest when it comes to my skills and admit that most matches aren’t cakewalks, especially with the fact that I’m not getting any younger.”

With his free hand, he tugs gently at the corners of his eyes, manipulating his crows feet a little, before grinning sheepishly and lowering his hand again. “But while I’m no spring chicken, I’m no stranger to the two people that Selena Frost and I will be standing against tomorrow night, and while I’m not saying it will give me any sort of advantage, I’m not saying it’s going to hurt matters either.”

“The whole wrestling world knows what happened with me and Syren, the kiss that shook the world or whatever bullshit name it was given at the time,” he continues, rolling his eyes. “Pinnacle… don’t have to talk about what a disaster that was, huh? And I’m sure that Syren and Ravyn are going to take plenty of pot shots and drag up plenty of things from the past, talk about things that happened behind closed doors or anything else they can think of to try and unsettle me heading into tomorrow night’s match…”

Helms shrugs. “And at this point, I say fucking let them!” he states simply, giving the appearance that he truly doesn’t care. “It’s not like I’m a stranger to that kind of bushleague bullshit from either of them anyway, is it?! You guys remember my final Rise to Greatness before I retired?” he asks. “My one and only loss at Rise to Greatness, I had a pretty good run going before Zoe ended that one. In the lead up to that, she spilled her guts onto tape about everything I’d ever done to hurt her, and I owned it. I deserved a lot of the shit she told you all about, I admit it.”

“I made decisions that left people feeling hurt. I’m human. We all do it,” he continues. “But there isn’t anything else that Zoe or Alexis can throw at me now. At least nothing that isn’t already out there in the public domain, anyway,” he concedes, making sure to cover all bases. “And as for Alexis… well, she knows all too well about how I react when certain triggers are pulled, given our history. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

With his free hand, he mimes the act of swinging a baseball bat. “No home run’s that night, unfortunately, though not for my lack of trying…” Helms laments. “Which is probably why that scheming bitch thought she could get away with doing the exact same thing again, I guess? I know they say leopards don’t change their spots… or Ravyn’s don’t I guess… but here’s the thing. While Ravyn Taylor evidently hasn’t changed an iota… I have.”

Some of the fans watching in the background give a cheer, though people who’ve been drinking will cheer anything if the circumstances are right. Helms pays them no mind and continues to speak. “Alexis was right with what she said when she went back to the well… she did cause me to break my moral code all those years ago. If I’d not been stopped, I’d have caved her skull in with that baseball bat and probably wouldn’t be in this business anymore, because none of it would have been done under the guise of pro-wrestling, I admit that. I wanted to kill her…”

Instead of looking guilty, David switches the phone to his other hand and looks as determined as ever as he continues. “But that’s the problem with going back to the well, Alexis… you assume the audience hasn’t changed. That they haven’t grown. Mr. Morality as you called him, well he’s not been quite so strict as of late with his code of conduct, has he? You’re like a worn out movie franchise, Alexis…” he claims, shaking his head. “You go back to the same tropes, re-tread the same plot, and expect the same reaction from the audience. And while on a basic bitch level, you’ll get that, because no doubt the fans are always going to boo you for being the scheming conniving douche canoe you are, beyond that? It’s tired. It’s old and you’re not getting any younger either.”

“Maybe I’m one to talk,” he says, pointing casually to his face, a throwback to what he said earlier, too. “I’m forty, I’m definitely no spring chicken myself… and I’d be lying if I said your little bullshit stunt about bumps in the night, showing photos of my kid didn’t get to me, didn’t leave me wanting to ensure head’s rolled all over again… these days I don’t have such a rigid moral code to stick to!”

“I try and do the right thing where possible, that’s true…” Helms concedes, nodding. “I try and make the right choices, and I’d like to think for the most part I choose not to take the easy way out or cheat… but the David Helms of twenty ten and the David Helms sitting here doing this livestream are two entirely different people, thanks to an extra eleven years worth of bullshit from this business beating him down and wearing away at his resolve, to the point where those lines aren’t quite so clear as they once were…”

“Ask Xander about that one,” he suggests. “Or hell, just look at Breakdown last week I guess? Me and that trusty chair, an idea that isn’t exactly original I’ll grant you, but hey, if Infamous can fall back on old staples then it’s fair game for anyone, right?” he asks, with a hollow laugh.

He follows it up with a shrug. “Not that anything I say will be of much consequence to either of them anyway, am I right?” he asks, watching the chat fly past on the screen as the people watching at home respond to him. “We all know that Dark Fantasty are that confident in themselves… or that high off their own bullshit, take your pick… that it doesn’t matter what you say to them because words just bounce the fuck off of them! And there’s something to say about that I guess, gotta give credit where it’s due; if you don’t give a fuck about what people say, you can do what you like, and Infamous as a whole have been doing that for years… which is fitting, given what I said about Ravyn going back to the well lately, which is fucking hilarious for someone who even I have to admit is pretty damn smart, that she doesn’t think of anything new.”

“But why change a winning strategy I guess,” He concedes, theatrically shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, Zoe’s been using the whiny demanding bitch strat for years and has done pretty well out of it, hasn’t she?” he asks and a couple of people give a cheer from behind the camera, but Helms manages to ignore it.

He shifts position before continuing. “And now maybe I’m doing the same thing, if you want to look at it that way. Reverting to criticising opponents for being demanding, complaining, cowards who bitch their way to stuff they don’t deserve… but if they can do it, then what’s good for the goose is good for the gander, surely?” he asks. “And Ravyn, she’s been furious with me since Last Laugh, when I stopped her from cheating her way to the world title despite being unable to compete myself due to injury…”

“Which has to suck for her, when you think about it,” he considers, looking thoughtful. “She gets her shot, and thinks that she can get away with pulling her usual tricks in order to claim the top prize in the company and here I am, still getting in the way of Infamous more than ten years later… I mean fuck, that’s almost as bad being the person who still uses the same tricks and schemes more than a decade later while expecting things to work out better for them, isn’t it?!”

Helms rolls his eyes. “And the fucking ridiculous thing is that, when you strip away all of the bullshit and the scheming and the cheating and the bravado and plots straight out of a Wyle E Cayote cartoon… both Syren and Ravyn are exceptional talents that evidently don’t need to stoop to the levels that they do. That’s what I don’t get about some people in this fucking business, they don’t need the bullshit yet they do it anyway, and for what? The gratification that they ‘outsmarted’ someone? The desire for an easier ride? Work smart not hard?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.

“Maybe I’m not one to talk, given my own turn to the darkside during those Pinnacle days,” he suggests, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “Or maybe I just ate something funny and it turned my head… wonder what that could have been… either way, I get I’m being hypocritical given I haven’t been squeaky clean every step of the way during my career… but jesus fuck, when did the cloak and dagger plots and the lifting of Edgar Allan Poe become more important than just being better than someone and proving it?!”

David shakes his head. “Syren has been telling people she’s the best female wrestler in the world for years now,” he continues. “She was saying that before I retired, which says how long that’s been bandied about. And like Selena can attest to, the stats are there to back that up to a degree,” he admits. “But life is about more than numbers, about records. And when I look at the last year or two here in SCW, I don’t see a woman that’s been robbed of her chances, I see a woman that’s bottled them and made excuses! I see a woman who has faked injuries to avoid competing! I see a woman who has expected the world to be handed to her without having to do a damn bit of work for it!”

“I see a woman who can’t even be bothered to turn up to shows at times!” he chastises, looking disgusted. “And maybe that’s because you’ve become bitter, Zoe. Or maybe it’s because you actually think that Sasha has it out for you or that SCW is trying to hold you down… I honestly don’t know what the truth behind it all is…” he says with a shake of his head. “But what I do know is that the shit we see from you these days is not the actions fitting of someone who truly believes herself to be the best! You want to duck responsibility, you want to ignore obligations and con your way out of competing thanks to ideas no doubt cooked up by the wrinkly jackass that you call a mentor then you go right ahead, but don’t you dare claim to be the best, because the best don’t run, they prove it!”

“They face every challenge head on! They face their fears, they face all obstacles and they face them without hesitation!” Helms explains, pointedly. “The best don’t shy from hard work, because they’re confident in their ability and know they can back the talk up! They don’t find ways to cheat, they don’t take shortcuts or balk at challenges and if they do, they were never the best in the first place!”

“But I may as well save my breath anyway, given who I’m talking to, right?” he asks and some wag in the back shouts ‘yep’ in response which gets a wry smile from Helms as he continues. “After all these years of pointing out the bullshit hypocrisy, I’d be better served banging my head against a brick wall than trying to get either of Dark Fantasy to see that they could be so much more if they weren’t such cheating assholes at every turn. I mean eventually, you start to get the feeling that you may be wasting your time, right?”

“So instead, let’s put it into terms that someone like Zoe or Alexis can understand,” he suggests, sitting forward a little and giving the camera his full attention. “You’ve had your fun, ladies. You’ve made your threats, you’ve tried your tricks, and you’ve even had your chances to take us out. You’ve gone after me, you’ve gone after Selena, Regan, you’ve attacked Miks… and last week, you showed what happens when things don’t go your way and the numbers advantage isn’t working for you when you had to attack a referee to end a match because it wasn’t going your way. But this is your chance.”

“This is your chance to actually back shit up!” he says, full of fire now. “This is your chance to prove that every bold claim about being deserving of something is justified in today’s picture here in SCW! You want people to take notice? You want Sasha to pay attention? Then tomorrow night, you get that opportunity!” he points out, quite literally, by throwing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the arena.

“You want the world to take note and actually listen to the trash you talk week in week out ladies, then tomorrow night, you beat me and Selena and prove us wrong!” He says, lowering his hand again. “You show us that Dark Fantasy are still everything they claim, that they don’t rest on their laurels and accomplishments from the past but still go when given the chance! Selena and me, we don’t have a history as a team, and we definitely don’t have the same bond you two do… so in theory, it should be a cakewalk anyway, right? So prove it.”

“Beat us,” he dares them. “Beat us clean, without the numbers game and the underhanded tactics. Without the threats to family and the rest of the Infamous greatest hits. Make us eat humble pie and maybe Sasha has no fucking choice but admit she has to give you the opportunities you both crave!” Helms says, making a logical point, with no faith whatsoever that they’ll do what he says. “But we both know you won’t. Oh sure, you may win. I mean, you’ve got plenty of tricks that you can use, so there’s every chance that Selena or me eat a pinfall tomorrow night, I won’t deny that one. But we both know that you won’t do it clean, don’t we?”

“So whenever you decide that the world is against you, or Sasha is holding you back, spare a thought…” he says, preparing to bring things to a close. “Spare a thought for why you may not get everything you want in a handbasket. And when you ultimately decide it’s not your fault as you’ve done for years, I’m sure the world will be thankful that some things at least remain constant… but don’t expect anyone to give a fuck about your complaints when your lack of respect is your own doing!” he tells the people watching the livestream, shaking his head as he sighs.

“Twenty twenty one and I’m here talking about the same shit I was talking about eleven years ago… it’s like I never even left,” he adds with a shrug. “That’s fucking sad. It really is. But not as sad as I hope you’ll both be by the time our match is over tomorrow. And you better believe that that’s the aim, ladies. I would trust Selena with my life and the same goes both ways. Tomorrow night we don’t just fight as a team, but as family. And if you come in expecting to walk all over us… it’s going to end badly for the pair of you. Believe it!…” he says, a grin forming on his face. “BANG!” he says with finality to end the stream, bringing a hand up to press the end stream button and with that, the feed comes to an end.