"Alright. Alright." The stern voice cut through.
The sudden spike in the public address system caused a sharp whine of microphone feedback, forcing several fans in the front rows to wince and cover their ears.
Jey remained in the center of the canvas. He did not bother turning his head to locate the source. The adrenaline from delivering the Ray Gun strike still pumped through his veins, making his fingertips tingle with residual energy, but he decided to keep his posture.
At his feet, Billy Bones lay face-down, his arm bent awkwardly beside his head. He was pressed firmly into the mat, which was concealing his face. He looked broken, a violent consequence of his own arrogance.
Up on the massive steel stage, a new figure stepped out from entrance that separated the arena from the backstage production area.
General Manager Ryoman walked into the harsh glare of the overhead spotlights. Ryoman was a man who rarely made appearances in front of the live crowd unless Japan Wrestling was actively falling apart and Mr. Shin needed help. He was in charge of youth development more than being a GM.
He wore a sharply tailore suit that stretched tightly across his broad, thick shoulders. Before putting on said suit and taking a corporate job, Ryoman had spent fifteen grueling years in rings across Tokyo. He carried the residual stiffness of that career in his walk, his physical presence remained highly intimidating.
His hair was scattered...just the way he liked it, showing distinct streaks of grey at the temples. He looked like a weary principal tasked with breaking up a violent schoolyard fight.
"Alright, that is quite enough," Ryoman repeated. He lowered the microphone an inch from his chin as the chaotic noise of the thousands of fans began to simmer down.
He didn’t need to scream to command attention. His baritone voice projected authority over the building.
Ryoman walked slowly down the top section of the steel ramp, his polished black leather shoes coming to a halt just before the downward slope began. He surveyed the wreckage inside the squared circle. His dark eyes flicked to the far corner, where two ringside medical technicians were urgently checking on Tyler Briggs with a small penlight and holding an ice pack to the back of the rookie’s neck.
Then, his gaze shifted to Billy sprawling on the canvas, before finally locking onto Jey.
"We are not running a stageplay for street fighters. The CEO might appreciate the sudden spike in media traffic ahead of your restraint to control yourselves, but I am the one responsible for controlling the roster and everything you guys do falls on me."
"We have security guards too hesitant to step through the ropes. We have had a senior referee get hit. We have unauthorized broadcast appearances."
He paused, letting the heavy reprimand sink in. The crowd remained hushed, hanging on his every word.
Ryoman continued, raising his free hand and pointing a thick finger toward the ring, "You two simply cannot contain yourselves. You are tearing apart weekly shows, ruining my main events, and injuring my personnel in the process."
Jey’s face was now turned toward the general manager. He didn’t ask a ringside attendant for a microphone to argue his case. He just stood his ground, listening closely to the executive.
"Billy Bones," Ryoman snapped, pointing down at the stirring wrestler. "You wanted his attention. You spent weeks forcefully creating your own opportunities. Well, you have another opportunity now."
Ryoman shifted his gaze back to the younger brother. "And Ray Jr, my office received your paperwork this afternoon. The Japan Wrestling medical staff has reviewed your final scans. They have been officially cleared you for full in-ring competition."
The Grand Auditorium erupted at the news.
The confirmation that the masked high-flyer was fully healed and no longer restricted sent a massive wave of excitement rippling through the stands. Fans leaped to their feet.
Ryoman waited for the noise to level out before raising the microphone back to his mouth.
"So, rather than wait for another one of you to end up in a hospital from a blindside attack," Ryoman announced, his voice rising in volume to match the building’s energy, "we are going to settle this the way Japan Wrestling settles things. We will do it inside the ropes. With a referee. Next week, on our televised broadcast."
"It will be Billy Bones versus Ray Jr."
The pop from the audience was astronomical and threatened to blow the roof off the arena.
Ryoman didn’t linger to soak in the reaction. He gave a single, curt nod to the ring, turned his back on the audience, and walked stiffly, disappearing back into the shadows of the backstage area.
Jey stood in the center of the ring, absorbing the weight of the announcement. Next week. The waiting game was finally over. There would be no more sneak attacks or useless staredowns.
They were going to fight.
He looked down at the mat. Billy was just starting to stir. A painful groan vibrated in the older brother’s throat, and his taped fingers twitched weakly against the canvas, attempting to grasp at something. Jey didn’t stick around to watch him regain consciousness. He grabbed the middle rope, and slid smoothly out of the ring.
His sneakers hit the padded floor. He began the long walk up the steel ramp. The fans leaned aggressively over the barricade, stretching their arms out, screaming his name. Jey didn’t rush his exit. He took his time, slapping open palms, offering firm fist bumps to the teenagers clad in replica merchandise.
He stopped briefly to point at a young boy sitting on his father’s shoulders, wearing a cheap foam version of Lee Ray’s classic mask. Jey tapped his own mask in acknowledgment, sending the kid into a fit of joy.
He was cleared to wrestle. He was whole again.
His hands gripped the leather steering wheel of his sedan, his mind running through the events of the day. He had executed it as perfectly as he wanted.
When he finally opened the door to his apartment, the calm air washed over him. He kicked off his white sneakers in the entryway, lining them up neatly against the baseboard, and tossed his car keys into the small ceramic bowl resting on the table.
"Woof."
Billy, trotted out from the living room. The dog’s tail wagged furiously, his claws clicking lightly but rapidly against the polished floors. He nudged nose against Jey’s jeans, pawing at his knees and demanding immediate attention.
"Hey, bud," Jey murmured quietly, dropping to one knee. He ruffled the thick fur around the dog’s neck, scratching him vigorously behind the ears. "Keep your voice down. It’s late. You’re supposed to be asleep."
"Not that late."
Jey looked up. Bambietta was standing in the short space that led to the kitchen. She wore a simple, oversized white t-shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder, her hair falling unstyled and slightly tangled around her face. She held a ceramic mug of steaming tea in both hands, her eyes pinning him securely to the spot.
The warm glow of the kitchen lights illuminated the features of her face.
"What’s up, babe," Jey said.
She didn’t respond so Jey stood up straight and raised both hands in a gesture of surrender, anticipating a lecture. "I threw one strike. That was it."
She took a slow sip of her tea, walked into the living room, and set the mug down on the glass coffee table. She didn’t look angry.
Jey blinked in surprise, fully expecting a harsh reprimand for leaving the safety of the commentary desk and entering the ring, breaking his promise to stay out of the action. "You aren’t mad?"
"I’m too exhausted to be mad," Bambietta admitted, walking over to him. "And I’m tired of watching that man try to ruin everything you build. He deserved that elbow. He deserved a lot worse than that."
She reached up, her cool fingers gently tracing the sharp line of his jaw. She carefully navigated her touch around the back of his neck, her thumbs pressing lightly against him.
"Turn your head to the left," she instructed softly.
Jey complied, rotating his chin over his shoulder. The movement was painless.
"Now to the right."
He turned his head the other way. Again, no resistance. Finding nothing wrong, her shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch in relief.
"You’re cleared right?" her hands dropping to rest on his chest.
"Yeah. I’m one hundred percent good to go."
"And next week?" she asked, her thumb brushing softly over his cheekbone, "You’re actually going to fight him?"
"I need to," Jey replied, his voice firm, leaving absolutely no room for argument. "We have to settle this once and for all. He won’t stop until one of us is put down. If we don’t handle it in the ring, with officials and strict rules, he’s going to continue coming."
Bambietta let out a long, shaky breath, resting her forehead gently against his chest. "I really hate this business sometimes. I hate it."
Jey wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her softly against his body. He rested his chin on the top of her head. "But after next week, it’s finished. I beat him, and we finally move on. We put the ghost to rest."
She stayed quiet for a long moment, simply listening to the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his clothes.
Then, she pulled back slightly, tilting her head to look up into his eyes. A small mischievous smile tugged at the corner of her lips, completely erasing the heavy worry that had previously clouded her features. Her demeanor shifted from fiercely protective partner to something much more intimate.
"Officially cleared, huh?"
Jey immediately caught the subtle shift in her tone, a spark of heat registering in his chest. "That’s what the doctors said."
"Does that mean your back can handle some..." she asked, stepping even closer until there was absolutely zero space left between them. Her hands slid from his chest down to the top of his jean pockets, gripping the fabric firmly.
Jey’s hands slid lower down her back, resting on the curve of her hips as a slow mischievous grin spread across his face. "Bam, I am pretty sure it can handle anything."
She grabbed the hem of his hoodie, pulling the material off his shoulders and tossing the heavy garment carelessly onto the nearest armchair. Her hands were warm against his skin through the t-shirt under.
She leaned up to his level, pressing a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth, before walking backward down the hallway. She pulled him eagerly along with her by his belt, her eyes locked onto his.