Act I - The Reappearance

The reappearance is a beginning magician’s trick. It is simple in its illusion, and a trick that will engage onlookers immediately.

At its essence, it is as simple as making an object reappear after having it disappear from the view. With a small object, sleight of hand will be sufficient. For larger disappearance-reappearances, more ‘production’ may be required.

All emphasis must be placed on the reappearance, with the return of the object being the greater of the magic involved.

————— [ LAX, Los Angeles, California ] —————

Still stiff, still sore, still shattered from her loss.

Sally Talfourd, alone and, well, hoping to stay alone finds herself in the waiting lounge for flight KE100 - Los Angeles to Seoul. There’s no reason to stay, no reason to be in California anymore. Not after this. Gods and Monsters were destroyed. Fiona Collins had showed down Sally Talfourd. And now there was nothing left.

California was no more a home to her, and as soon as she had recovered from Autumn Effect, Sally organised the first ticket back to home. Real home. Back to Boryeong. There were many things Sally needed to make amends as 2014 came to a close, but it wouldn’t begin here. It didn’t need to begin here. It needed to start with Seon-yeong. It needed to start with herself.

She would find no solace here, nothing to help her rediscover herself. There were many hard questions to be asked - and a difficult process to go through to find those answers.

But more than just herself, she needed to make amends with her family. Her family that she had brought shame upon with her actions and her words. She wears that guilt now - no confidence in her body, no stark appearance, no smile or pretty face. Just shadows under the eyes, slumped shoulders, and an inability to meet the eye of anyone with her own.

Sally’s mind becomes (again) consumed with the thoughts of Gods and Monsters, of what she had done to Fiona, to Jon Collins. “What have I done?” Sally mutters to herself.

There’s some announcement over the PA system, but nothing catches Sally’s attention. She is now occupied with the pages of her passport, glancing over the stamps and the visas and the scuffed edges that have taken her around the world. There’s a story to be told - a story that’s already been told, so to speak - in those pages.

But that story was ended, and probably for good now.

She turns to the front page. A younger, less beautiful, less worn face looks back at her. No smile, but still, a lust for life somewhere in those eyes. Her name is Seon-yeong.

This was now her story.

————— [ Boryeong, South Chungcheong Province, South Korea ] —————

It’s just before Friday evening and the beach is starting to light up with the fire-pits. Teenagers and those young-twenty-something who want an evening away from their parents (but lacking the money to travel for the weekend into Seoul). The crowds will grow over the next hour, with all sorts of people braving the cold for a barbecue, drinks, and friends.

But Seon-yeong cuts a unique figure. She’s alone, sitting on the stone wall that divides the beach from the piers, looking out to the ocean - looking at a world that is far, far away.

More importantly, she is unique in a different way - unique in that she is starkly different to the last time anyone of note saw her. The last confirmed appearance (trying to avoid sounding like a UFO sighting) was at LAX, last November. A Twitter photo, an errant Facebook status update from a former fan, and a one-sentence website update at FTWresling.com saying that she’d been spotted.

But, since then, nothing. And this is where she’s been. Her hometown, making amends. The past few weeks … they’ve been helpful. Resolutions with her mother and father. All brought about with the help of her sister.

It’s a long story, that one. It’ll be told, sure, but not here. Not now.

Seon-yeong is coming to terms with it and, well, it shows. There’s a spark in her eyes, a smile on her face, and a colour to her skin. No longer washed out, no longer under a pall of regret and shame. Sure, there’s something in there that she needs to make amends for, but they aren’t a weight now.

They’re a fuel. They’re a driving force within her now. And that will become more than evident in the time to come.

“Excuse me, miss.”

Seon-yeon is brought back to reality, her attention turned to the man who has approached her. In more ways than one, she is caught off-guard. His American accent belied his appearance - someone who has just walked out of Myeongdong (Seoul’s fashion district for the unaware), Korean and clothes and all. She frowns at him, which he takes as a look of confusion.

“Sorry,” He err’s his words, “English? My Korean is … 당신은 어디에 있는지 알 마 …”

Seon-yeong smiles at the obvious errors in what he says, which seems to dishearten him, and he holds up his apologetic hands, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”

He turns and, dragging his feet through the sand, almost gets away.

“Wait!” Sally turns to push off the wall.

————— [ Haneda Airport, Tokyo, Japan ] —————

There’s nothing quite like stretching one’s legs after getting off a flight. These days, you can’t even get up and move around the plane without being silently accused of preparing to interfere with the plane’s safety and whatnot. So, to avoid the shame-inducing glares, you stay seated.

That’s what Sally did for the past 4 hours (or thereabouts) as she made her return trip toTokyo Sitting there. Waiting. Tiring. And, importantly, thinking. Thinking about preparations. Thinking about the future. And, of course, thinking about that satisfaction one gets from finally being able to walk more than twenty feet up, twenty feet back, and sit back down.

Well, anyway, she made it. Flight KE101 landed trouble free, everybody was free to get off, and the sweet, rich air that fills the Haneda airport was just as welcome. Those first few breath were deep, a tingle going deep down into her.

“Better to saviour this,” Sally remarked to herself, “ ‘cause you know what the air’s like outside.”

Eventually, after bag collection and immigration checks, Sally finds herself in Japan once more, ready to wrestle. It’s been a while; not since that fateful night - where mara and her family seemed to claim their first victim - had she set foot anywhere outside of Korea due to the most recent chapter in her career.

It seemed as though her return - her reappearance - was, indeed, near. The nature of that was yet to be decided, indeed: it was even yet to be confirmed. But this time, there would be no meetings. There would be no clandestine arrangements. There would be no corrupted mission.

There would just be a moment. That one moment when she would know it was time to step back into Exodus proper. That feeling would return, that drive and that passion would climb up from inside Sally and guide her every being the same way it took hold of her when she first came to Exodus.

“This isn’t a return of a clairvoyant,” Her eyes dart around at just the thought of someone even catching that handle and recognising her for what she wast, “This is a return of the Last Magician.”

This return, Sally notices almost as soon as she is in amongst the throng of people, is different already. There’s no adoring crowds. No one waiting for her. If anyone knew that she was coming back, there wasn’t a single person here excited about it.

Mind you, no one should have known. Laying low in her hometown, far away from the probing eyes of wrestling writers, was the only way of finding the solace that she sought. Or maybe it was that no one was interested in looking for her. 2014 had shattered any notion of Sally being a pure and honest wrestler. That bankability with ‘her crowd’ was lost, and so too were people’s interest in her?

“Not for long,” Sally seemingly charges through the automatic doors, bursting into the sunlight, “Not for long.

————— [ Hakata Star Lanes, Fukuoka, Japan ] —————

Dick Morosi: What's going on?!

Seth Ericson: IT'S ANOTHER GAME FROM MARA!

When the lights come back...the crowd is stunned as one person stands in the ring in the middle of the chaos.

...The Last Magician, SALLY GODDAMN TALFOURD!

As she slowly goes over to mara, who has been attacking Fiona alongside NoVaK, she looks at mara and nods, the eyes of the Allmother widening....BEFORE SHE ATTACKS MARA! SHE STARTS LAYING FISTS INTO MARA AND THE TIDE BEGINS TO TURN! RUBY AND FIONA ARE STARTING TO HELP SALLY TURN THE TIDE, AND WE ARE OUT OF TIME, FOLKS! GOOD NIGHT!

————— [ Park Hyatt Tokyo, Shinjuku District, Japan ] —————

Bzzzzz

Bzzzzzzzzzz

Sally holds her phone up, the vibrations tingling her fingers. Whether its the tickle or the name flashing up on the screen, a wry grin comes across her face. Speakerphone might be the best way to handle this - for health and safety reasons.

“Hello Matt.”

“Am I your manager still?”

An extremely angry voice tears through the picturesque setting, a balcony looking out at the night skyline of Tokyo (perhaps the second most beautiful city to see in the dark).

“Who is this?”

“You know who this is!!!” There’s heavy breathing to punctuate the change of tact, “Or maybe you don’t. Maybe your stay at the beach for months on end has fired your memory. Actually, that sounds like what happened - it would help explain why I didn’t get a phone call or an email …”

“Matt, listen,” Sally holds her head in her hands as she leans on her elbows, “I told you I wanted to disappear for a while.”

“You didn’t even tell me when you were going to come back though! I’ve been with you since Blood Bath Wrestling! When you were some hype girl just waiting to go big! We’ve been through it all together, from BBW to APW to the best of the lot: Exodus. And this is how you treat me!?”

“But you know now, don’t you? What would telling you have changed?”

“ … I just like to know,” Matt’s voice suggests that he’s been broken, or that he’s given up with the aggression, “That way I can keep the accounts in order. I’ve been doing that since 2004, haven’t I?”

“Well I guess you haven’t changed,” Sally sits back on her couch, her arms spread out as wide as her smile, “Still thinking about the important things.”

“It’s my thinking that funded you little break, Seon-yeong … or are you going by your stage name again?”

“Might as well,” Sally’s smile recedes, “Not that I deserve it.”

“I’d say you earned it a couple of days ago. You saved the boss’s wife. You helped out her friend. You broke everyone’s memories of you.”

“Hahaha, you think?” Sally goes back to leaning on her knees, “No, you’re wrong there Matt. Very wrong. It will take a lot more to do that. One unexpected appearance might get a reaction, but it won’t get forgiveness.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Seon-yeong. People will remember the old Sally.”

“Only after I make them forget about the more recent Sally. Forget about Sally the Clairvoyant.”

————— [ Korakuen Hall, Tokyo, Japan ] —————

————— [ Seattle, Washington ] —————

Home away from home now. Her apartment is a sty now, but what’s to be expected? When you leave your apartment in the hands of your manager - renowned slob, and yet, surprisingly, a great manager - you can’t expect anything less.

After a lunch arrival and a long, long catch-up session, which bled into a dinner, which bled into an all-night discussion. Time away from each other turned into plans for the future. Charting and navigating the next few weeks.

So, tired and preoccupied with those thoughts, Sally sits out on her balcony in absolute bliss of the state of her apartment. Because the sun shines directly into the apartment from here, Sally has donned a summer hat and sunglasses, though the rest of her clothes still say “end of Winter”!

“Knock-knock!” There’s a voice from inside the apartment, one which elicits so minimal response from Sally it’s as though she didn’t even hear it. After a moment, her manager - Matt - walks his way out to the balcony.

“You’re back?” Sally takes a sip from her glass of champagne, “Wasn’t yesterday enough talk so that we don’t have to speak for six months?”

Matt laughs, then collapses into the seat across from Sally at the table. He lets out a long sigh as he looks out over Seattle as well, “Nah, Sally - that only bought you a morning off - at most.”

“Well, if you’re going to be here,” Sally turns her attention to him, “You might as well have a glass.”

Sally pushes across the bucket of ice with the champagne and an empty glass. Matt smiles and pours out a glass himself, the hiss and fizzle of the champagne spilling over the top of the glass. When it’s settled down, Matt lifts his glass to Sally, “Cheers.”

Sally half-heartedly raises her glass towards Matt, and both of them rest back in their seats. The air of the early and crisp morning is just as fresh and awakening as the sun streaming at manager and wrestler. There’s a pause as the two take in this new day, looking over the horizon as far as they can see.

“How ready are you for this?” Matt says between sips.

“I take it you didn’t watch Repetition?” Sally scoffs, though that hides her own worries it seems.
“I did, I did,” Matt leans in towards Sally, elbows on the table, “But that was one night, you know? Now there’s the back-up night. And in two weeks, another match. You’ve been out for a few months now. Four is it?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’m just saying: If you’re not up to a regular schedule yet, we can arrange for a slow transition in.”

Sally lifts her glasses up, “Matt, if you wanted to see what the courtyard downstairs looked like, you could have just asked - not provoke me to throw you off this balcony!”

There’s a funny moment where Sally’s voice echoes out across the valley, and the thought comes across Matt about what a thud would sound like as an echo. “Well, sounds like you’re ready,” Deliberately avoiding eye contact, he rearranges arbitrary things on the table, “I’ll get you lined up with someone that will set the tone for the next few weeks.”

“Look, if I have to face Chris Strike for the world title,” Sally grins as she lowers her sunglasses, “I’ll do it. I mean, I wasn’t anticipating being world champion two weeks after getting back in the ring but if Exodus needs me …. well, that would be one way to make up for my mistakes.”

Matt lets out a laugh, “I think you’re thinking too small. Maybe a gauntlet match against all the champions? Get all the belts? That would do everyone a favour.”

“Whatever match you get for me, Matt, will be the best match for me.”

————— [ RIMAC Arena, San Diego, California ] —————

Exodus, I can’t express to you the great regret I have for what I did to you last year. My fans, my followers … I’ve let you down in ways that I never imagined I could.

After what I did, I know that words won’t bring you back to me. I know that I have no right to be listened to, and you have no reason to trust me. Why would you? I only tried to bring down Exodus, destroy the Collins family, and install a horrible, horrible person as the leader of a new age.

I won’t diminish what I’ve done by trying to apologise until the day you all forgive me. I won’t insult you with any more words about last year. Instead, my actions will do my talking. I will speak from the ring, I will speak with my matches, and I will speak to you in the way that we first all got to know each other: Through wrestling.

Every match, now, is dedicated to my redemption. To making Exodus the place it should be: A place for the fans, a place in you (the fans’) image. Everything I do, I do for you, Exodus.

But, alas, Exodus faces a new threat. One much more sinister and deadly than before. As threatening as Gods and Monsters was every going to be, it pales in comparison to this new threat.

mara.

Her family.

This is a threat that needs stopping. It’s a threat that stands to ruin Exodus as we all know it. This group will need the best of us, the best of all of us, to stop it. They will need the skills and abilities that we all excel in.

But we, as a guard to Exodus, need to be ready for that final showdown. We need to prepare ourselves like our enemies. We need to hone our skills and we need to ready ourselves for this end-game. One-by-one, we will build ourselves up against the family so that - when the final showdown is here - only the forces of good will be standing.

I am willing to admit that I am no where near ready to take on mara and her family, together. Sure, I’ve stood tall after the last two times we’ve come face to face - but I had the element of surprise on my side. I’ve been able to manipulate the situation as any good magician can do. I’ve been able to appear and disappear when I needed to. But now, I must settle in for the main show, so to speak.

And, as we know - there is the first act. The enticement for people to stay and watch. The spectacle that not only dazzles and amazes, but captures the attention of everyone watching and, ultimately, sets the tone for what’s to come.

Could you, Kevin Hardaway, please come up to the stage.

You, sir, are no victim. No, quite the contrary. You’re a subject. A subject of wild amazement. A subject who will prove to the world that magic - real magic - is certainly still alive. After all, you stand alongside the last magician.

The spotlight is on you now, Kevin. the world is watching you to see what will happen. Is Sally Talfourd a redeeming figure? A person on a path to recovery? Is Kevin Hardaway a real champion? Was that title win everything it was made out to be? Or were you a pretender - someone who was a series of circumstance and happenstance?

We will know by the end of this show - by the end of this first act.
of the
We will know if you are part of the long line of the credible and respectable. Part of the long line of great champions that Exodus has seen. Savannah Taylor … Blake Jones … Jerry Matthews … say what you will about them - and, by gosh, there is a lot to be said for and against them - they at least earned their title in such a way that, well, we can look back with a degree of respect.

Where do you fit in that line? Will you be a man of honour and respect? Or will you just simply be a distraction on the way to a greater champion?

Indeed, if you wanted to steal this show and make this first act the one that everyone remembers - you would put your title on the line! Imagine that! Stealing the show, fighting the magic, making our appearances the one two that are remembered.

Of course, if you were the great champion that your title might suggest, they wouldn’t even remember me. They - the fans - would only remember your great performance, you mastery of the stage, your magic in the ring.

And, if you were prepared to do the bidding of your master, having the fans forgot about me and this match would do everything mara would love to see: The fans completely and utterly reject who I am. What I stand for. What I plan to do. If you could cut me down without giving me the chance to actually find my feet, catch the eye of the fans, and start this final performance of mine that will bring Exodus to the place it should be.

But, alas Kevin: I just don’t think you can do that. I think the family has thrown you out to be the sacrifice that is needed. I think you know that you can’t match the magic I bring to the ring and that’s why your title won’t be on the line. I think, deep down, you know you’re simply the side-kick to this performance. The magician’s assistance, not the magic herself.

You will move the props, you will be the source of the entertainment. But you won’t be the entertainer. You won’t be the person the people remember.

This match - this show of ours - will certainly be one that is remembered. It will be a great contrast of styles and a great combination of talents.

You and your thuggish attack, you brutish strengths, your base violence.

Me and my graceful technique, my elegant speed, my flowing submission.

Imagine the show that we will have? The great juxtaposition between philosophy and life. Of course, it’s the person with the finer control themselves that is able to control the match. The wrestler who knows where every part of their opponent is … the wrestler who knows where every weakness and strength in the match is … the wrestler who knows the time and the space and the everything is will, ultimately, win this match.

And, given you yourself are a wrestler who is, what? A street-fighter with some wrestling thrown in? A warrior who has learned to fly a little? A brut who has managed to tame a little of his base instinct? Where is your control over your skills? Your talent? Your mind?

Oh, your mind! Let’s not dwell too much on that demon-infested world. I profess to control magic, which is a great thing to have up your sleeve. I have control of the world beyond my own appearance - I control what others see, what others believe, what others think. My control extends beyond my own body.

You control doesn’t even extend to you own mind; occupied by tenants who should have been exorcised a long, long time ago. You are a sick man, Kevin. You are ill, and you need help. I don’t know what help I can provide you (if I can provide anything at all right now), but I know that a match like this might be the first step to your recovery. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be consumed with the disturbed, with mistrust, with hatred and animosity and, well, a fundamental problem with everything you see.

I can’t exorcise your demons, Kevin. But I can start the process for you, Kevin.

It will end with the ending of your family’s attempts at ending Exodus.

You’re just the first act of this.

And that act is starting now. It’s beginning. It’s time to step up onto the stage with the Last Magician, Kevin. It’s time to amaze the crowds!