#but nobody ever questioned how jimmy is fluent?

[thetomorrowshow]

when to hold 'em

ur honor i love the flower husbands

~

The crown of antlers is in his hands.

He holds it, turns it, examines every angle.

Then places it on his head.

Scott looks up, across the silent plateau, to the darkness that gathers on the other side.

Sìín kuvi ndakuatura nu Ndíoxī.

-

"You've got this!" a little boy shouts, pumping one fist in the air.

Scott rolls his eyes over to Jimmy. "I thought you said this would be private?" he comments archly.

Jimmy shrugs, looking a little sheepish. "Word gets out. Especially to kids."

"Right. And since you and I were the only ones who knew about this, the children found out through. . . ?"

"I have no idea."

There are six or seven children sitting or standing in the long grass of the field, some tens of meters away. Jimmy waves to them. All but one wave back.

Scott pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't want anyone getting hurt, Jimmy," he bites out.

"You won't hurt anyone," Jimmy insists. "They're far enough away that they aren't even an issue. They just want to see some magic!"

That's the problem.

Scott's curse isn't a party trick. It isn't something to be gawked at and applauded by children. It's a curse, barely controlled, and a very dangerous one at that.

And it isn't just that he doesn't want them getting hurt. That's most of it, of course, but. . . . 

Scott really doesn't want an audience. He doesn't want people to see him fail.

(Last time he failed, he was surrounded—by elves and enemies alike.)

Something of his thoughts must show on his face, because Jimmy just makes a sound kind of like a sigh and squeezes his hand.

"You're all right," he says quietly. "I'm not leaving. You can control it when I'm here, right?"

"Control is a strong word," mutters Scott. It implies that he can do a lot more than keep an imaginary door shut.

Not to mention, he hasn't been able to let go of Jimmy. They've learned over the past couple of days that when they separate, Scott loses whatever hold he has. It had been unpleasant that first morning, when Scott woke late to find that Jimmy had already gotten back to work, leaving him coated in frost and ice weighing down the tent.

He really has no control if the magic is untamed without the tamer's touch. In all fairness, Jimmy has more control over the magic than Scott does.

But Jimmy just smiles (so brightly that Scott can't help but reluctantly smile back) and points to a patch of wildflowers a good fifty feet away from them.

"Shoot ice at that," he instructs, and Scott, with another glance at the children and more than a bit of trepidation, raises his hand toward the flowers.

He pushes, releasing a little bit of his hold on the magic, letting it conduct out through his arm, pulsing and freezing and—

Frost and ice shoot from his fingertips in a barrage (and the force has him stumbling back a step), about half of it hitting the flowers and the other half falling around them, with some icicles stabbing into the ground a good several feet away.

Scott quickly reasserts his hold on the magic and pulls his arm close to himself, pressing his side into Jimmy.

It's terrifying, using this magic. This magic that, just a few days past, had been using him.

There's no way of knowing just how much damage he's capable of. Based on what he did at the town, Scott thinks he could practically level a village.

It isn't nice, having that much power.

"Whoa!" a young boy screams, and all the other children join in the excitement, chattering about the magic.

"Nice one!" Jimmy says, dragging Scott over to look, sword bouncing on his back.

The flowers are shredded, heads torn from stems and petals torn from heads. A bit of grass is pulled up in a streak, dirt stark against the yellow stalks of grass. Frost coats the area, shards of ice stabbing into the ground.

Scott feels a little sick, looking at it.

That could have hit a person.

If he hadn't figured out that touching Jimmy gave him a measure of control, he could have killed anyone in the camp.

Jimmy's already tugging him back, probably wanting to practice again. He wants Scott to get good at his aim, and Scott isn't sure if it's so he feels more safe with himself, or so he can be more useful in attacks.

"I'm just a weapon," he says offhandedly. Bit of a fall from king of the elves.

"Come on, now," Jimmy says consolingly. "You're a beautiful weapon."

Scott snorts. "Try that one again."

"My favorite weapon?"

"If I could let go of your hand, I would."

Jimmy grins. "What I'm hearing is I can be as obnoxious as I want, and you can't do anything."

"Oh, you—"

Their flirting is cut off as a child crosses the invisible boundary, skipping up toward them.

"Stay back there," Jimmy commands, voice ringing with sudden authority, stepping forward with an arm out.

Scott glances at him, more to make sure that it's still his Jimmy there than anything else. He forgets, sometimes, that Jimmy actually has power. Not just the power of a ruler, either—some sort of unknown, hidden power had to have played a part in his survival, and his ability to heal others. Scott's seen him heal so many of the survivors that they just rescued, just by pressing a hand to their wounds. Jimmy, somehow, is a living, walking, healing miracle.

As much as they're teasing each other today, Scott can't help but feel a little hollow inside. It's still so hard to be here, to hold the hand of his once-dead betrothed.

Not that he has any other option.

Not that he doesn't want to.

The child halts immediately, waits for Jimmy and Scott to come toward her.

She's a little older than the other children, and one that Scott recognizes—from when, he doesn't know—, her scales like freckles spattered across her cheeks and nose.

"Codfather!" she says, standing at attention. "We've found something."

-

"I'm honestly just surprised it made it all the way down here," Scott muses, turning the satchel over in his hands. Below it, on the table in Jimmy's planning tent, lies the crown of antlers and a thin grey book, instantly recognizable as the one he had forgotten to give Lizzie.

"That would be the enchantments," Jimmy says, leaning on Scott's shoulder. When Scott turns his head to raise an eyebrow at him, he elaborates.

"Well, look, see the way the stag kind of shimmers? That's a protection kind of enchantment, to keep the bag from tearing. And the cod is a homebound enchantment—wherever you are, it'll find you."

Scott blinks.

How on earth would he be able to tell that just by looking at it?

"Are you making things up?" he asks dubiously.

Jimmy frowns. "What? No. My people showed me every step of the process when they were making this. We had a promising young Cod—Everarda—she was going to Gem's Academy, and she enchanted the thread. And Theo attached the strap—I think Jesse did part of the bag itself, and—"

"And the crown," Scott murmurs, picking it up with more reverence than he's shown it in some time.

It still shines, despite traveling down river for weeks and ending up buried in the mud. Its glow, perhaps, is more due to its divinity than any amount of polish.

How had it found him here?

Aeor, no doubt.

Scott's been kind of ignoring his god, as of late. Sure, he's said a couple of prayers here and there—some of them sobbing, silent prayers in his frozen world, others rote repetition and dull words—but he hasn't exactly been the most faithful of chosen ones.

It isn't that he doesn't respect Aeor. He still worships his god. It's just . . . easier, he supposes, to pretend as if this is all there is. His story ends here, and he dwindles away.

Yet every night, he tosses and turns, struck by recurring dreams. Dreams that have an oddly golden quality, dreams in which he has the crown of antlers and is alone against Xornoth.

Dreams in which he thinks in a tongue that is unrecognizable to him.

He's been ignoring the dreams, hoping them to be nothing—and in so doing, he's been ignoring hints from his god.

The fact that the crown is here again, one of the artifacts necessary to defeat Xornoth—and he doesn't think he really needs the boots anymore—feels like a bit more than a hint.

His stomach swoops unpleasantly. If Aeor's sending him messages of this magnitude, he clearly wants Scott to get going.

It's not like Scott can take on Xornoth with nothing changing. Xornoth almost killed him last time. He still has no idea what he's doing. Not to mention, Xornoth is surely even more powerful by this point, surrounded by soldiers and Rivendell's magic and who knows what else. There's no chance of survival.

Yet Aeor is pushing him. Aeor is telling him to go up against his brother another time and fail. Aeor is sending him to his doom.

And Scott's going to do it.

He doesn't want to. He wants to stay here, with Jimmy, in this little temporary civilization forever. He wants to forget about the world outside, forget that everything will likely collapse in a matter of months.

He doesn't want to die.

He doesn't want to fail again.

But he has been feeling like he's living on borrowed time.

And he can rub his thumb along the light scars on Jimmy's knuckles and wonder if he feels the same.

"What's this?" Jimmy asks, drawing Scott from his morbid spiraling by picking up the grey book.

"I—I don't know," Scott says, still reeling from his moment of revelation. "Something Oceanic, I think. I meant to give it to Lizzie."

He's going to die. He's being sent to his death like a lamb to the slaughter.

The long hours spent in Gem's secret library seem like a lifetime ago—a time when devastation was fresh, when Jimmy was dead yet the world seemed more hopeful than it does now. He barely recalls how they found the book in the first place.

"And it stayed in your bag the whole time," Jimmy muses, turning it this way and that. "What's it about?"

"I don't know, I couldn't read it."

"Hm." Jimmy flips the book open to the first page, while Scott gently sets the crown back down and turns to the young teen who had found the items.

"And there was nothing else there?" he questions.

She shakes her head. "Nothing that I saw, Lord Smajor. I can show you the place, if you like."

It's unlikely that the boots would have made it there. It's not like they had some sort of tracking spell, after all. It's more likely Lizzie found them, washed up on one of her islands.

"That won't be necessary," he tells the girl. "If anyone finds magical boots that burn to the touch, however, find me."

She nods, takes a few cautious steps back. Scott waits expectantly for Jimmy to dismiss her, but when he doesn't, she just shrugs and bounds off.

Scott looks back to Jimmy, who has stepped uncomfortably far away, the fingers of his right hand just brushing Scott's waist. Scott steps more into reach, peeks over at the book that Jimmy is so intently studying.

It looks much the same as he remembers, if a bit more wet. Strange, faded blue letters, made large with thick strokes. Not much of a conceivable pattern to split up the words (unless it's a character based language?), or even a way to tell if it's written from right to left or not.

But Jimmy is scrutinizing this old little book, mouth moving slightly as his eyes slowly travel across the page.

"Can you read it?" Scott asks incredulously. Jimmy can barely read Common, how on Aeor's great earth is he reading whatever this is?

"I—I think so?" Jimmy says, looking up from the book. "I've never seen this language before. At least, not that I can remember."

Right. Amnesia.

"I think I used to be able to write in this," continues Jimmy, voice hushed as his eyes return to the book. "That's crazy. How old is this?"

"Very," Scott says. Then, still confused, "Can amnesia make it so that you forget an entire language?"

Jimmy doesn't answer. Instead, he points a shaking finger at a point on the page, letting go of Scott (who presses his arm to Jimmy's, maintaining their vital contact) to do so.

What's so exciting about that part? Jimmy's suddenly gone white as mountain's snow, eyes watering as if he's about to cry. What could possibly bring him to tears so quickly? Is this a book of prophecies? Is Jimmy reading about the doubtless end that awaits them?

But Jimmy, voice weak, doesn't say anything like that. Instead, he says, looking over at Scott, "This . . . this is about me."

-

"It's a journal, of some kind," Jimmy explains, later, sitting on the grass in his tent, a plate (which was really more of a carefully sanded piece of wood) of berries and two bowls of thin soup between them. "I think Lizzie wrote it."

Scott frowns. "Lizzie? Are you sure?"

That just can't be possible. Gem's library had been sealed for likely hundreds of years. Jimmy's only—well, he only showed up ten years ago, and Lizzie—Lizzie's been around for a while, but fish hybrids don't live for longer than the average human lifespan.

Right? Lizzie's been. . . . 

"Lizzie joined the House Blossom Alliance over twenty years ago," Scott says aloud. He was there when she showed up to her first meeting, he remembers that. She'd seemed young, small, hair falling into her face, clearly dressed in her nicest of clothing—which was almost meager compared to the glory of some of the other empires.

Still, she had commanded the respect of all of them, speaking boldly and making firm promises. Scott remembers being begrudgingly impressed, though not quite as much as the boy Mezelean Prince, who repeatedly urged his father (in a voice a bit too loud to be a whisper) to arrange an alliance.

If Lizzie had only inherited her kingdom at that age, then there was no way she had been able to write whatever that book was. Neither she nor Jimmy would even be born for centuries.

"Lizzie joined then . . . and none of us really knew much about the Ocean Kingdom, but we'd seen their buildings begin to rise above the water and she seemed legitimate. . . . And then you showed up about a decade later and started reaching out to empires, didn't you?"

"Why are you reciting history to me?"

Scott snorts. "This is barely history, more of a contemporary review," he tells Jimmy, adjusting so that Jimmy's heel isn't digging into his thigh. They've contorted themselves a bit oddly, perhaps, one of Jimmy's legs reaching around their dinner to keep physical contact with Scott, but there's only so long that they can hold hands in a day.

"I just don't understand how the books came to be in Gem's hidden library."

"Maybe it wasn't all that hidden?" Jimmy suggests. "Maybe Lizzie found it and put these books in."

"Are you sure Lizzie wrote it?"

"Yeah, it's her handwriting."

"That is definitely not her handwriting," Scott says, pointing to the open book beside Jimmy. "That isn't anyone's handwriting. That's an ancient Oceanic script that nobody remembers."

"I remember it," Jimmy says, popping a berry into his mouth.

"Yes, but you don't really, right? You can read it, and write it, but you don't know how you know it or where you learned it. How do you know it even talks about you?"

"Lizzie's writing to me in parts of it."

"How do you know it's you? And not someone else named Jimmy?"

Jimmy frowns. "It's not exactly my name, you know. It's a word that means me. Nobody else would have that."

It does not make sense.

None of this makes any sense.

"Sounds inefficient for a language," Scott murmurs absently, ignoring the pang in his chest as he remembers that Jimmy died and now is back so what does sense even matter?

"Right, it changed to use names as the Ocean Kingdom grew. Barely anybody even knew this form of it by the time. . . ."

Jimmy trails off, eyes unfocusing with a concerning suddenness. His lips move ever so slightly, forming unsaid words.

"Jimmy?" tries Scott, reaching over to tap on his knee. Jimmy blinks, eyes refocusing on Scott.

"Sorry, what was I saying?" he asks, brows furrowed.

And if that isn't strange, Scott doesn't know what is.

"Something about the language developing over time?" Scott prompts.

Jimmy bites his lip, looks askance. "I don't . . . I don't know. I don't remember. I don't. . . ."

He doesn't look like he's going to cry, exactly, but he certainly looks troubled, and his eyes catch on the book.

"None of it makes sense," he says quietly, and Scott could not agree more. "Lizzie wrote that. I know she wrote that. I don't know how. And it's . . . I need to talk to her."

"It's from before you lost your memory, isn't it?" Scott asks after a moment. He isn't sure how far he can push this, but he feels a sense of idle curiosity. What does the book say? Why does it worry Jimmy? How did it get in the Crystal Cliffs secret library, unrecorded and forgotten?

Jimmy nods. "It's gonna eat at me, Scott," he says, already sounding tired. "Lizzie's writing about all sorts of things that I don't remember. They just don't make sense. I need to talk to her, figure out if she remembers any of this."

"You're saying we need to go to the Ocean Kingdom."

Again, Jimmy nods. "Yep. At some point." He looks away, sighs, briefly looking far too old yet much too young to be leading a camp of refugees, let alone a kingdom.

Jimmy's always had moments like that, when his bearing makes it obvious to Scott that Jimmy stumbled into this role ten years ago and gave it his all, despite his lack of experience.

He doesn't deserve this—war, death, pain.

Jimmy doesn't deserve any of this.

But Jimmy doesn't dwell, even if Scott does. Instead, he looks back up to meet Scott's eyes, lips quirked in a smile. "What about you? What's with the crown?"

Right. The crown.

Scott swallows.

He and Jimmy have talked a little. Just enough to air out any pressing concerns, for Scott to realize that his conflicting feelings were not unwarranted but unneeded, and for Jimmy to accept that Scott is struggling and help him feel assured of his love as often as he can.

But they haven't talked much, despite literally never leaving one another's side. They've been so busy keeping the camp running and planning attacks and defenses and experimenting with Scott's curse that they haven't been able to sit down and talk, like they're doing now.

Does Scott tell him what it means?

Does Scott tell him that by sending the crown, Aeor intends for Scott to go up against Xornoth again, just to fail as he already has? Does he tell Jimmy that this little respite was nice, but it can't last forever?

Maybe he can put it off. Maybe he can stay with Jimmy just a little bit longer, in the relative peace of the camp.

It's selfish. Scott ought to at least try to fight Xornoth right now, if only for the elves in captivity.

But Scott's kind of tired of trying to save the world. Let someone else do it, for a change.

He forces a smile, fiddles with a berry between his fingers. "It's just a Rivendell treasure. You needn't worry about it."

He'll stay, Scott decides, as Jimmy gives him a soft, loving smile. He'll stay as long as he can.

-

Which isn't very long.

As it turns out, their little frozen-town trick from the week before didn't go over well with Mythland, and it's only the next morning that a woman comes running to the planning tent, declaring that she'd seen three unfamiliar men searching for the camp while she was on patrol. That means that Mythland knows roundabouts where the first camp is (the newly-formed second is off to the northeast, and as far as they know, hasn't been discovered), and the probability of attack is high.

It's time to move, then. Scott spends all morning running from place to place with Jimmy, helping children and disabled and those unwilling to fight pack up and prepare to move to the second camp, from whence a proper plan will be formed.

It isn't terribly easy to mobilize a camp of hundreds of people in only one day. Many of them, in the short month or so that they've been here, have settled in as if it were their home. Some of the families have collected possessions, strangely enough—Scott watches an elderly man argue with Jimmy for almost ten minutes in some strange Oceanic dialect over not wanting to part with his chair. Jimmy responds patiently, but Scott can feel his body tense more and more as he responds in the dolphin-like clicks and whistles of the dialect.

Finally, Jimmy pats the man on the shoulder and says something in a low voice to him, then moves on.

"What'd you say?" asks Scott, hanging on to Jimmy's arm as they walk away, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of hurried packing.

"I told him he can leave the chair or die in it, I don't care," Jimmy says breezily, and Scott almost laughs.

"One of these days you need to learn diplomacy."

"I said I'd go find his husband, he can be diplomatic."

It takes an hour to find him, however, because at every turn, Jimmy is pulled aside and asked a question, called over for help, or stopped to listen to some sort of plan or explanation. The camp is quickly emptying, guides hurrying back and forth between the camps to lead more people to the safer location.

"I hope we aren't being watched," Scott says offhandedly, watching a group of a dozen or so Cod head out, laden with makeshift packs. "Then they'd find the location of the other camp, too."

Jimmy doesn't reply, just points beyond the treeline, out toward the outskirts of their massive camp. There, past the chaos of destroying shelters and striking tents, Scott sees several people in light armor, each carrying a weapon, making circles around the camp.

"Patrol is doubled," Jimmy says shortly. "All the way down to Camp Two."

"How many people are in Camp Two?"

"We have . . . what, two hundred joining them?" Jimmy guesses, readjusting the sword strapped to his back. "So they'll be up to around five hundred. It'll drop, though, as they send us fighters tomorrow."

They're leaving tomorrow, too. Everyone who is left in the camp tomorrow at noon (the able fighters, that is) will be marching out. The plan is to head out toward the Ocean Kingdom, add their little force of four hundred to Lizzie's armies, and from there plan with Lizzie a way to try and defeat Xornoth.

Scott should feel better about it. He'd felt for so long that Jimmy's small goals were pointless, after all.

But he knows now that it's hopeless to try and sway this war. Scott feels like there's a rain cloud looming over their heads, ready to strike down with lightning and set the camp ablaze. Death surely lurks just beyond their line of sight.

There's no way to defeat Xornoth. His power will only grow, the God of Darkness fed by the fear and torture he brings to the land.

Maybe Aeor wants Scott to take a shot at it just so that he can go to the afterlife with full honor. Elvish history and religious lore is fairly vague on anything other than the separation of the afterlife, but it's always had a sense of peace and happiness. Maybe Aeor knows that Scott is bound to die, and wants to hurry it along so that he can get some peace for once.

For a god that sends him frustrating hints all the time, he's really outdone himself with this one.

He's going to die. Aeor is sending him to his death.

Jimmy notices something's wrong, somehow. Jimmy, who never notices anything, even when he's not busy with mobilizing an entire camp over the space of a day and a half, notices that something is wrong, which means that Scott isn't hiding his thoughts very well.

He used to be so much better at this. Back before he met Jimmy.

But Jimmy frowns at some point during the day, rubs his thumb over Scott's knuckles, and asks how he's doing.

And when Scott asks why Jimmy would even be concerned, Jimmy points out his wings and how stiff they are, and the way his fingers are repeatedly tapping against his side, and the anxious frown on his lips, and asks if he's having sensory overload.

No, he's just thinking about his own imminent death. Nothing to worry about there.

He wants Jimmy to live. He wants Jimmy to gather his little force and leave the land of the Empires, go somewhere without demons and death, somewhere his people can rebuild.

He doesn't want Jimmy to be captured and subjected to torture, or killed, or whatever evil is in mind for him.

He wants Jimmy to be happy.

If it comes to it, Scott decides right then and there, he'll split off from the group. He'll leave a note, telling Jimmy to get out when it all goes wrong, and fly to Rivendell alone, ready to confront his demon brother once and for all.

And then he'll die.

Right.

He's going to die.

-

They set out at noon the next day, Scott's satchel uncomfortably heavy with the weight of both the crown and general travel supplies—some food, first aid, and a bowl and spoon. Jimmy hikes beside him at the front of the pack, the mysterious runes carved into the old leather of the hilt of his sword sparkling in the sun.

If Scott had been in charge of this expedition to the Ocean Kingdom, he would have set out at dusk rather than noon, the hot sun beating down on their backs. He barely gets half an hour into the march before shrugging off his coat and draping it over his head, sweat dripping into his eyes.

Elves aren't made for heat, not noonday, marching-through-tall-prairie-grass, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky kind of heat. It's hot, but worse than that it's humid, so Scott has to deal with not only the burning sun but also the thick air that threatens to choke him. He stops frequently to take a sip from the waterskin bumping against his hip, to wipe the sweat from his brow, to pray for clouds, and he can only hope that his skin isn't burning beyond recognition.

At least last time he trekked through the plains, he was covered in ice. Now he's overheating, out of breath, and just generally exhausted.

And they haven't even been walking for a full day.

His wings itch to take flight, glide through the air and feel the wind on his face, make it to the Ocean Kingdom in under an hour instead of the several day journey that the force has embarked on.

They're walking the whole way, despite the fact that the nearby river would be a much faster way to travel for Cod. Jimmy says that the river is being watched intently, and that four hundred rebels is a little conspicuous. They'll be expected to take the river route, not go around.

And Scott also suspects that Jimmy doesn't want to leave anyone behind. Not all of the rebels are native Cod, and not all are capable of breathing underwater—like him, for example.

Not that Jimmy would change the plans and safety of his entire camp for just Scott.

They walk all afternoon in even warmer weather (and it can't really be that warm, because all of the Cod are doing fine, but Scott is really just not suited for this), and they're about to press onward after a blessed break for supper when one of the scouts sent on ahead comes running back, a little dot on the rolling yellow-green plains ahead that gradually becomes larger.

When they arrive, huffing and puffing, green in the face, they salute Jimmy and bow a little to Scott, accepting a drink of water.

"There's a small Mythland camp up ahead," they manage after a moment to catch their breath, sweeping their sweaty brown bangs out of their eyes. "An expedition or scouting group, probably. Fifty soldiers at most."

"We stop here to rest," Jimmy decides immediately, without waiting to consult the two Cod that he's chosen to be his seconds-in-command. "We'll continue in a couple of hours. Can you lead me to the camp?"

The young Cod nods, and before Scott knows it, they're guiding him and Jimmy away, a group of five of the stealthiest Cod accompanying them.

Scott doesn't really think it's a good idea to go spying—not when both he and Jimmy are rather high-profile, and letting go of Jimmy could have disastrous consequences making it impossible to split up—but who is he to make the rules around here?

And maybe he just doesn't want to go because his legs and back ache from the journey thus far, and his excessive clothing is all stuck to him with his own sweat.

Or maybe he doesn't want to go because he's going to die in a matter of days and he wants to spend as much time talking to Jimmy as possible instead of silent surveillance.

But as dusk falls and the world darkens, Scott finds himself lying on his belly at the peak of a small, ridge-like hill, peering down at a small camp of Mythland soldiers.

There's probably fifty men or so, most of whom are preparing or eating an evening meal between the six rows of tents. None of them are in armor, milling around the two campfires on either end of the camp, over each of which is a pot of something cooking (probably a stew).

"Fire is good," Jimmy murmurs. "It'll throw off their vision. We can probably get pretty close."

He points to a tent on the edge of the second row away from them, a bit bigger than the others, which two men are currently exiting. “I bet the man in charge is there. I want to know what his plans are.”

"Can we risk it?" Scott whispers back, tearing his eyes away from the camp to focus on Jimmy's shadowed face, two bright streaks across his vision from the light of the fires. "If we get caught, the whole operation is done for."

Jimmy clicks his tongue, reaffirms his grip on Scott's hand. "If we get caught, you fly us out of there, okay?"

"What? Jimmy, I haven't flown in weeks—my wings were broken, I don't even know if they'll support my weight, let alone—"

"Then we won't get caught," Jimmy says simply.

Right. Because that's the way that works.

Still, Scott only sighs and nods, and after a few long moments of silent communication with the other five rebels, Jimmy and Scott crawl back down the hill, sliding back on hands and knees until they're far enough back that they can stand fully.

They wait there, silent, until dark has fully fallen and the air cools, various nighttime critters hopping out of their hiding places to make their voices heard. Scott leaps back in surprise when a field mouse crawls across his foot, briefly losing contact with Jimmy and sending an icicle straight through the mouse, skewering it to the ground.

Jimmy sucks his breath in between his teeth. Scott cringes, gripping Jimmy's bicep and feeling his control acclimate again.

He hates this. He hates not being in control. He hates being cursed.

"Just . . . try not to do that again?" Jimmy says after a moment.

Scott nods wordlessly.

They don't say anything after that, and soon enough they can't really see anything beyond a foot ahead of them, and Jimmy begins to lead the way around the curve of the hill.

It isn't too difficult to move through the tall grass quietly, crouched over to hide in it, but Scott finds himself gritting his teeth every time Jimmy stumbles over a stalk or tramples some grass. Can't he just be silent? Scott has massive wings behind him and he isn't getting caught on anything, it can't be that hard.

He has to remind himself every couple of steps that different people have different skills. Elves have light feet and are better at sneaking than most, after all. It isn't Jimmy's fault that he's a flat-footed Cod.

"Left," Jimmy breathes in his ear, and Scott freezes. "There's someone on watch."

Scott looks around, trying to get his eyes to acclimate to the darkness. The firelight is throwing off his heightened vision (just as Jimmy had predicted it would for the enemy) , but he can maybe see a figure standing out in the grass to their right.

Now that he knows the man is there, if he pays attention he can hear him. He can hear the slight wheeze that accompanies each breath, the almost-silent rustle of clothing.

They shift left, Scott keeping an eye on the shadowy figure, making sure he doesn't head this way.

But as they move, Scott's still-alert ears pick up another sound, distant and almost indistinct.

Ba-thump. . . . Ba-thump. . . . Ba-thump. . . .

It might be his imagination, but it seems to be growing louder.

"Do you hear something?" Scott ventures to whisper, glancing around to make sure the guard doesn't hear him. Jimmy shrugs.

"No. What is it?"

He doesn't see anything. But he can still hear the rhythmic thudding, ever so slightly louder. Maybe it's his heartbeat?

Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump.

Jimmy continues moving, bent over almost double, masked by the tall grass. Scott follows, their fingers linked and connecting them, swallowing back his bad feeling.

It sounds like a drum. A beating drum coming closer and closer.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump—

"Are you—" Scott starts, before something clicks in his memory and he knows exactly what the sound is.

Uh-oh.

Ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump—

Scott drags Jimmy back by his tunic, pulling him down on his back in the grass, the sword in its scabbard jostling against Scott's arm (flattened under Jimmy as they both lie supine on the ground). Scott presses his free hand to Jimmy's mouth, silencing the question about to burst from his lips.

Just in time, as a horse and rider come barreling through, barely two meters away from them, hooves thudding against the grass and saddlebags clanking. The horse gallops across the field to the camp, which is still far enough away that they can't hear anything more than the general bustle of a camp getting ready for bed.

Scott carefully sits back up once he's sure the danger has passed (and Jimmy does too, with considerably more noise), watches as the rider dismounts, tying the horse's reins to the post that's been set up at the edge of camp, next to the pack ponies that are lazily munching on the grass.

"He looks important," Jimmy whispers.

He does. The rider is wearing the official white surcoat of Mythland, a polished leather satchel strapped across his chest. He doesn't even unsaddle his horse, just continues on into the camp, stride slightly bowlegged.

Neither of them even have to say anything. Both Jimmy and Scott just move forward in sync, zigzagging from left to right, slower and slower the closer they get to the camp as the grass grows shorter, until they find themselves right behind the tent that the rider entered, the larger one that is luckily off to the side rather than in the center.

It's dangerous. There's a tent behind them a little ways, and others in their line of sight—made especially risky by the firelight emanating from one of the campfires, only a row away from them.

Still, nobody seems to be wandering about over here, and Scott trusts that either he'll hear them coming or Aeor will protect them.

Now, though, he needs to focus.

"Can you hear anything?" whispers Jimmy. Scott shushes him near silently, presses his ear up against the canvas. Jimmy does the same, his bad ear out toward the camp.

A couple of indistinguishable murmurings—pleasantries, if Scott had to guess—then the most obnoxious slurping Scott has ever heard—

"I don't believe I understand," a man's voice says, gruff and low, muffled through the tent wall. "The king wants us to abandon our course?"

"For the time being," a younger voice—the rider, Scott guesses—says.

"But we just sent our report. We've found the rebel camp. We need to attack before they move. I was expecting two thousand soldiers, not a messenger telling me to head to the coast."

"Everyone is being sent to the coast," the rider responds. "The rebel camp will still be here later."

"Or they'll all go hide in their little badger-holes. We could lose the Codlands if they get bold."

A chuckle. "It wouldn't take much to re-conquer them, I assure you. Especially without their ruler."

Scott squeezes Jimmy's hand. Jimmy squeezes back.

"I don't know," the first man says. "Something strange is going on with those rebels. Did you hear about Medokrill?"

"I don't bother myself with the names of their primitive villages."

"Froze. Overnight. Three men got frostbite."

"The weather of this place does not—"

"And in the morning, most of the Cod had vanished." The squeaking of a chair, another horrid slurp. "Now, I don't like that sort of coincidence. The town freezes—in August, mind—and that same night, the rebels strike and sneak everyone out of there. And only Medokrill froze. Even the prairie around it was untouched."

"What do you want me to do about it?" the rider asks after a moment. The other man chuckles.

"Keep it quiet, ideally. I don't know who or what has that kind of power, but I'm thinking the blame lies with those fairies. They might not be so neutral, after all.”

“I'm sure His Majesty would find that quite informative.”

“Remember that we don't want to scare our men, or give the Cod hope. Keep it quiet. But otherwise, you could get me my men so I can quash this rebellion."

The rider clicks his tongue. "The command is coming straight from His Majesty. Everyone is going to the coast for an attack."

"What could be so important—"

"The Ocean Queen is gone," the rider says.

Jimmy stiffens beside Scott. 

"She'll be arriving in Rivendell early tomorrow morning. The King intends to . . . delay her return, if you take my meaning. We attack while she's gone. By the time the day ends, we should have the upper hand and the fish will surrender within the week."

"Hm." The other man goes silent for a long moment. "I don't know how I feel about that. Tomorrow?"

"You're the last group to know, unfortunately. You should make it to the river in under an hour, and from there it will be several days' march to the coast itself. With any luck, the fighting will be done before you even arrive."

A long, drawn-out sigh. "And I don't suppose my little espionage group was small enough to escape the King's attention?"

"Every man, General. This could be the end of the war."

"Right. Well, it'll be morning before I can get my men moving. That wouldn't be too much of an issue, would it?"

"I suppose I might have stopped for the night before reaching your camp. Officially, I arrived tomorrow morning."

"Sure. And none of that stuff about the freeze leaves this tent, all right?"

"And you never heard a thing about the Ocean Queen's permanent little trip."

Another slurp that sets Scott's teeth on edge.

"Agreed. Have you been to the Capital lately?"

"Not in several weeks. Why?"

"Just wondering how the new market law is going."

"Ah. Well, I can tell you. . . ."

Jimmy tugs, lightly, on Scott's sleeve, and after a moment longer of listening to make sure they don't return to the earlier topic, Scott allows himself to be pulled.

They sneak back through the grass, not stopped by the sight of any sentry, off toward their vantage hill, around the side of it and to the back, where they find the other five rebels that they'd brought with them sitting cross-legged, conversing in whispers and pulling apart stalks of grass.

"Back to camp," Jimmy says shortly when they look up, and walks straight past them, pulling Scott with him.

Without a word, they follow him, stealing off in the direction of their resting soldiers, several hills away.

"What are we—" Scott whispers, but Jimmy shakes his head.

"Later."

Later.

How much later?

This is kind of important news, in Scott's opinion!

If Sausage is concentrating all his forces on the Ocean Kingdom because Lizzie's going to be in Rivendell for some reason, their whole mission is for nothing. They won't be able to strengthen her armies if they can't reach the ocean, but they can't go back—soon they'll be closed in, Mythland having conquered the Ocean Kingdom, so maybe they can flee to the Overgrown—but the general already suspects that the Overgrown is aiding them, and joining their ranks would only lead to an invasion—

"Who's there?" a guard calls, peering out into the darkness.

"It's us, Lanale," Jimmy says, and Scott stops to survey their rebel force.

It's too small. It's absolutely tiny. There's approximately four hundred of them, some as young as fourteen, ready to fight to try and free their country.

And that captain had just casually ordered two thousand soldiers to entirely wipe out their little force.

There's nothing they can do to help Lizzie against all of Mythland's armies. They won't even make a difference. They surely can't join the Overgrown, as it would lead to an attack. They can't stay here, not with Mythlanders combing the prairies for them.

He has no idea what Jimmy intends to do. He can't see any way out.

Yet Jimmy moves with purpose, and Scotr walks with him, picking through sleeping rebels, until Jimmy finds the woman he wants and shakes her awake.

She stretches, stands slowly, pushes her hair back. "Codfather," she yawns, clearly not-quite awake. "What do you need?"

"You're a good leader, Millie," Jimmy says, skipping pleasantries. "I need you to be in charge while I'm gone."

Millie blinks. "Gone? Gone where? What's happening?"

"I'm putting you and Emilio in charge," Jimmy explains, rather impatiently. "There's been a change in plans. You need to split up. You take most of the fighters over the river to the Overgrown, all right? Volunteer to join Katherine's army. Emilio needs to take fifty men and go back to Camp Two. Emilio will gather everyone who is able, and lead them to the Overgrown. Got it? Everyone is going to House Blossom."

"I—what?"

"Jimmy—" Scott starts—what is he talking about? That will only make things worse, and where will Jimmy be?—but Jimmy doesn't stop.

"Scott and I are leaving right now to Rivendell," he says firmly. "Can I trust you to lead these people to the Overgrown?"

Rivendell?

How?

Millie nods, all traces of sleepiness gone. "Of course, Codfather. And Emilio as well. They're a good fish."

Jimmy claps her on the shoulder once before turning away, pulling Scott back in the direction they came from.

"Wait!" Millie whisper-shouts, and Jimmy pauses, looks over his shoulder.

Millie gives him a grim nod. "Codspeed."

Jimmy nods back, once, then continues on.

"I'm sorry, what?" demands Scott, once they've retraced their path through the dozing force. "I—what are we—Rivendell, Jimmy? What—"

"We have to warn her," Jimmy says, and that may be true, but they can't just abandon the people here to go on a rescue mission miles and lifetimes away!

"Right, but it's logistically impossible—we ought to be headed to the Ocean Kingdom, warn her military commander, bef—"

"He literally told us where she was gonna be, we have to go out there—"

"He told us Rivendell! We don't know where in Rivendell, and more importantly—we can't get to Rivendell! How are we—"

"It's my sister, Scott," Jimmy says, and Scott falls silent at the desperate look on his face. He thinks he can see, by the moonlight, the sparkle of a tear on his cheek, somehow distinguishable from the shine of scales pushing through the scars on his face.

He got those scars, Scott remembers, when he fell through the Void and the nothing tore away pieces his skin, dissolving everything that was Jimmy.

Scott promised himself then, as his wings beat desperately and tears streamed down his face and he carried the unmoving body of his fiancé in his arms, that he would do anything for Jimmy, as long as he survived.

"It's my sister," Jimmy says again now, and Scott's eyes flick up from his scars to his beautiful, serious, brown eyes. "I'm not gonna leave her. I'm not gonna let Sausage murder her."

Scott glances away.

If they reveal themselves, Scott will have to face Xornoth.

If they save Lizzie, Scott will die.

And maybe that's dramatizing it a little bit, but it's true. If they go out into the public, if everyone knows that they're alive, then Xornoth will come after them.

Instead of, maybe, several more weeks with Jimmy, Scott's timeline has dropped down to a matter of days—hours, even.

He can't leave Jimmy so soon. He just found him again.

But one more look at Jimmy's pleading, teary eyes, and Scott knows that he can't leave Lizzie to die. She doesn't have a chance against the demon.

No one does, but he can at least hold Xornoth off while the others get to safety.

He'll never see Jimmy again.

"All right," he says, even as it breaks his heart. "We'll do it. But how do you intend on getting to Rivendell?"

Jimmy's eyes slowly slide up, up to the half moon, to the stars surrounding it. "Well, remember my escape plan from earlier?"

"Jimmy."

[welcometowcwmondaynitro]

WCW Monday Nitro 26/08/1996

Note: It’s been over a year since I posted anything new, but this is still an active Tumblr so here’s something for the handful of people who I suddenly noticed are following this! Also RIP Mean Gene Okerlund. I may rag on him a lot in these retrospectives but he was a legend and will be missed. Onto the final WCW Nitro of August 1996. 

So, this is curious. We start off with the usual intro, then as the fireworks are going off and Tony and Larry Z are welcoming us to the broadcast... there are already two people in the ring. We’re in a rush tonight, clearly.

Our combatants for the first bout of the evening are Juventud Guerrera and Billy Kidman. This is in fact Juvi’s debut on WCW Nitro. Hopefully he gets better treatment than poor Psychosis. 

Juventud Guerrera Vs Billy Kidman

We’re not even a minute into the match and Tony manages to call our debutant “Juventud Guerrero”. That’s something else you can get used to, as this mistake happens frequently throughout Juvi’s time in WCW. In this instance Larry does correct Tony and note that it’s “Guerrera” rather than “Guerrero”. 

As the match is in progress Tony informs us that the Horsemen will be facing the Rock ‘n’ Roll Express later in the program, a match that would have been good in the 80s but not so much in 1996. 

Juvi and Kidman slap each other on the apron for a few moments, then Juvi flips over him and hits a powerbomb onto the floor.

 Juvi dominates for a while with a few lucha flips, but then Kidman hits back. After a while Kidman attempts to hit the ever impressive shooting star press...

And he connects, but Juvi kicks out! 

Juvi hits a hurricanrana off the top rope which Tony somehow calls a “reverse victory roll” - wut? - and gets the three count. Juvi screams “I am the best!” into the camera whilst Tony keeps trying and failing to pronounce hurricanrana with a spanish accent. Larry then says to just call it “the flying fajita” in a nice bit of casual racism. 

Juventud Guerrera defeats Billy Kidman via pinfall.

Gene is in the ring, and they seem to think it’s a good idea to give this guy an interview.

As it turns out, it isn’t. The interview starts well with Gene saying Juvi isn’t “adept at English” and Gene admitting he can’t speak Spanish - “no comprende Espanyol amigo”. Always a good idea to have an interview between two people who don’t speak each other’s language. Gene asks about Juvi facing Konnan for the Mexican title. Juvi says something unintelligible in broken English before switching to yelling something in Spanish. The crowd start booing loudly and Juvi is confused by this reaction.

Juvi takes back the mic and screams “I am the best wrester Mexican”. Juvi actually manages to speak some fairly fluent English for a moment as he says he has one more thing to say - everybody in Mexico knows the New World Order, and then loses his train of thought and says something about nobody in mexico being scared of them or something. Crowd has started booing again, and Gene, realising this thing is dying a terrible death, cuts the interview with a condescending “give it a rest pal, you can take this up with somebody else”, walking away and shaking his head as if somehow this is Juvi’s fault and he’s too old for this shit. 

Poor Juvi just stands there looking like a dope.

Juvi was very over at the end of the match. He was dead in the water after the interview. Good going WCW.

We get a Glacier commercial, and it’s a new one! After seeing the same promo for literally months, we finally get some fresh material...

It’s just Glacier spinning a stick around in front of a white wall with weird markings on it. He’s basically Star Wars kid before Star Wars kid became a thing. Maybe we got it all wrong and he was actually copying Glacier. 

We get our first look at Tony and Larry...

Look at that multicoloured abomination on Larry’s torso. WTF kind of a shirt is that. I hope he didn’t pay too much for it.

Seriously. Dafuq. Looks like he’s wearing a child’s colouring book, with bad colouring in to boot.

Anyway, they talk about the Four Horsemen teaming up with Sting and Luger and we get a recap of the promo last week between these gentlemen confirming the agreement. The crowd are still booing at something, but not sure if it’s still Juvi or something else entirely. Rough audience tonight. 

Larry starts babbling about King Nebuchadnezzar and the “five orders” and Tony’s face during this is absolutely priceless.

He’s literally staring off with this “wtf?” gaze for about ten seconds before turning back to Larry like, “u srs?” 

He has no idea what is going on. 

After Larry finishes his soliloquy on empires and other bullshit, Tony informs us that later on we’ll be seeing Mongo & Benoit Vs Sting & Luger. Can I ask why? Why the fuck would you do that with War Games coming up? Sting and Luger are teaming with the Horsemen at War Games, so why would they...? You know what, forget it. Next match is up. First up... AMERICAN MALES, AMERICAN MALES, AMERICAN MALES...

But Riggs is injured so it’s actually Bagwell teamed up with Jim “Jobber” Powers and his manager Teddy Long. 

What a trio. Worth noting Dave Penzer calls Long “the Godfather”... Godfather of what? Jobbers? Where did that nickname come from? Does Long have some kind of Mafia history we haven’t been told about? Penzer also says they’ll be accompanied by Riggs but he’s nowhere to be seen. Guess he had better things to do. 

Speaking of trios...

Their opponents are Sullivan and Big Bubba accompanied by Jimmy Hart. Oh boy. I can’t imagine this is going to be a match of the year candidate. Also the name graphic makes it look like it’s just “Taskmaster Big Bubba”. 

Marcus Bagwell & Jim “Jobber” Powers Vs Kevin Sullivan & Big Bubba

Before the match we see a quick compilation of “tree of woe” moves and the double foot stomp finisher from Sullivan, after which Tony calls Sullivan “one of the most dangerous men we’ve seen in our sport for many years”. Yeah... but no. Just no. Larry then says in class he used to see kids pulling wings off flies, but Sullivan used kittens. Okay, first, where are these winged kittens that Larry is talking about? Secondly, if we assume he’s actually talking about Sullivan ripping kittens limbs off... what the fuck?

Jobber Jim actually surprisingly gets some early offence on Sullivan, during which Larry calls Jimmy Hart “a mental genius of the game”. OK.

This match goes on for way too long, but there’s a funny spot near the end where Jobber Jim is ramming both Jimmy Hart and Sullivan’s heads into the turnbuckle.

Still say the background illustration on Hart’s jacket looks more like Nash than the Giant.

Powers hits Bubba with a cross body in the wing and pins him for a three count. Everyone is shocked. But then Patrick decides the shoulder was up and restarts the match. Why did he even count the three if the shoulder was up? Don’t know.

Bubba hits his sidewalk slam and this time a three is counted for the Dungeon. Hah. Jim Powers can’t even win without losing. Honestly though, this match was better than it had any right to be considering the participants, just went a bit too long and the finish was really dumb. 

Sullivan & Big Bubba defeat Marcus Bagwell & Jim “Jobber” Powers via pinfall.

Post match “the godfather” is yelling at Patrick but nobody cares. Maybe he’ll order a hit on him later. Larry calls Long a “buttinski”. I assume that’s an insult. They show a replay which blatantly shows Bubba got his shoulder up way after the three count, but Larry acts like it was a close call because he’s either blind or stupid.

Gene-o is in the ring with the victors.

Bubba says he should be getting all the title shots and should be in all the main events and he won’t be overlooked again, starting tonight. Good luck with that. Bubba also calls out Glacier, which is nice because other than the announcers nobody else has mentioned him despite two months of vignettes. Hart mocks Glacer’s “blood runs cold” tagline and says “the only thing that’s going to be running is you”. Burn. 

Sullivan complains that if everybody has listened to him about Hogan then “all of this wouldn’t be going on”. No, instead we’d still have you running around with the Shark, the Zodiac and all of those other idiots in the Dungeon. Sullivan claims he saw Okerlund on a boat with Hogan a week ago. Gene says “that wasn’t me, that was Eric Bischoff”. Easy mistake to make. Love how Gene instantly tries to dump Bischoff in the shit. What a snake. Gene asks if the guy had hair, to which Sullivan says “the guy had a bald head, it was you”. Taskmaster ain’t bullshitting tonight. Not sure what the point of that was, but Sullivan transitions from this into saying the Horsemen aren’t the last line of defence for WCW. I hope he isn’t implying the Dungeon are because, if so, WCW is fucked. Gene implies Sullivan is “greasing the palm” of Nick Patrick, to which Sullivan replies “everyone’s entitled to a mistake, including you being on a boat with Hogan”. They’re really planting the seeds here with this Okerlund/Hogan stuff, but as far as I’m aware it doesn’t go anywhere so... why? Who cares if Mean Gene of all people is hanging around with Hogan anyway?

We come back from a break and now Okerlund is with Sting and Luger in the back. He’s all over the show again tonight. Lex is making a stupid face as usual. I’m starting to think he’s doing it on purpose. He looks like he accidentally sharted. 

Luger says that he and Sting are “in the frame of mind to kick some behind”... what a slogan. Sting isn’t happy that after “everything was cool” last week that the Horsemen and now giving them a “gut chest” - I think he means gut check - and he says he doesn’t understand it and it means Flair and Anderson don’t trust them. Sting says that Flair should never question their “intestinal fortitude” and they’re making a mistake. Onto the next match.

Mike Enos comes out yelling “bunch of idiots”. 

His opponent is Chavo Guerrero Jr.

Well, this should be a classic. 

Mike Enos Vs Chavo Guerrero Jr

Enos starts the match by attempting to run into Chavo in the corner, but Chavo scrambles out of the way and Enos smacks his head into the turnbuckle. When you begin a match with that kind of strategy you know it isn’t going to end well. Literally less than a minute later Enos whips Chavo into the opposite corner, again tries to run into him, and again ends up slamming himself into the turnbuckle as Chavo moves out of the way. This Enos lad isn’t the sharpest tool in the drawer, is he?

By the way, the announcers seem even less enthused for this match than I am. They are literally acting like the match isn’t even happening, instead talking non-stop about the Giant, Macho Man and Hollywood Hogan. I mean, I get it, nobody cares about Enos and Chavo is still an unknown... but come on guys. At least act like you give a shit. 

Enos ends up outside of the ring and Chavo leaps over the top rope with a cross body...

However, Enos catches him and walks around like he’s holding a child.

Watch those hands, mister.

Enos flings Chavo over with a fallaway slam - “nearly over to the guardrail” says Tony, even though it’s nowhere close. 

As Enos dumps Chavo back in the ring “Dirty” Dick Slater appears at ringside.

“With a towel over his head” notes Tony. So that’s where Taz got the idea from. I’m not sure why Slater waited until now to come out.

As Enos continues to dominate we get a shot of Konnan in the crowd.

He appears to be having a nap. Tony suggests he’s “trying to be incognito”. yes, wearing that hat, that shirt and being picked up by the cameras straight away. Incognito indeed.

Enos is in the ring jumping around with Chavo across his shoulders.

It looks hilarious, although the visual doesn’t do it justice. 

Enos tries a sit down powerbomb but somehow fucks it up and Chavo lands on Enos’ leg, which causes Enos to squirm in pain. Chavo then locks in a figure four, and as Enos is flailing around Randy Anderson gets “thumbed in the eye” which allows Dirty Dick to enter the ring.

Slater takes the towel off his head and puts it around Enos’ head instead. Enos rolls out of the ring as Slater beats on Chavo. Randy Anderson has apparently gone completely blind as he doesn’t notice that Dick Slater is now in the ring instead of Mike Enos. They look significantly different. Regardless, this ridiculous plan backfires when Chavo rolls up Slater with an inside cradle for the win.

Chavo Guerrero Jr defeats Mike Enos (technically Dick Slater) via Pinfall.

Enos and Slater are stunned that their idiotic plan failed. This kind of tactic is usually employed by two people who look similar, not completely different. As it turns out that part of the plan inexplicably worked - Slater is just a dunce who got beat anyway. 

Okerlund is of course in the entranceway, accosting Chavo.

Chavo yells for DDP, asking where he is. Chavo claims he came out to “help” Eddie after DDP attacked him post-match at the Clash, but as we already saw Chavo was about as much help as the proverbial chocolate fireguard. Chavo says DDP tried to humiliate him by whipping him with Nick Patrick’s belt, but attests “that didn’t humiliate me, that just put coal in my fire!” 

Gene looks befuddled by this. He advises Chavo to calm down and notes that DDP and Chavo have a match at Fall Brawl. Chavo says that if you mess with one of the Guerrero’s, you mess with all of them. 

We get a very 90s advert with Okerlund and Heenan hawking the Nitro t-shirt.

Look at those background colours. So 90s. Gene says Heenan’s got the shirt on the wrong way around and that his “whole body is reversable”. Not sure what that means, not sure I want to know. Also unsure as to why Heenan has the shirt on backwards. It isn’t explained. Could they not have gotten anybody else to promote this? We see enough of Okerlund as it is without him shilling merch as well. At least get a wrestler to do it.

Some hair metal 80s guitar riffs hit and out comes “J. L.” - the cleverly disguised Jerry Lynn.

I have to admit I am unsure as to why Lynn was a masked wrestler in WCW. It’s not like they didn’t have enough luchadores wearing masks. 

His opponent is the Cruiserweight champion Rey Mysterio Jr.

The enthusiasm in the crowd is off the charts.

J.L. Vs Rey Mysterio Jr

Throughout his entrance and indeed throughout the match JL is constantly adjusting his mask. It’s a bit distracting. Tony calls JL “mysterious” but then goes on to talk about his success in Japan and how he isn’t from Mexico, so I guess not that mysterious. It’s literally just because he has a mask on.

The match begins with various arm holds and JL keeping Mysterio in a headlock for a while. The contest has barely begun before Tony starts spluttering and says he’s been told Hogan is outside. The camera cuts to the back where we see Hogan, Hall and Nash.

Hogan grabs somebody who for some reason was randomly standing around outside with a spotlight and takes him over to the production truck.

They spraypaint the truck with nWo logos as Tony acts disgusted, like this is the worst thing that’s ever been done. You know, if you guys are so appalled by this behaviour you don’t have to show it on camera. You could just... not show it. Also that is some really shitty spraypainting.

“What are they saying here?” Tony asks. “nWo 4 life?”

Yes, that is literally what they have spraypainted on the truck Tony. Good reading skills. 

Tony says that bills will be coming the nWo’s way from Turner and he hopes they “have insurance”. Yeah, I’m sure Hogan will need insurance to pay a fine for having some spraypaint cleaned off a truck. With that said I’m not sure you can get insurance to cover you in the event of you deciding to vandalise a truck, but whatever. Tony mocks the idea of the nWo having a fourth man and reckons they’ll go into War Games a man down. Sounds reasonable. He says Hogan has turned into a “street thug”. Sure, he’s running with the gangs now. A matter of time before he’s committing drive-bys and making rap videos. 

Oh, there’s still a match going on by the way. Not that it’s anything exciting. It might be the most boring match in Rey’s history. I’m guessing on purpose, knowing that most of it is going to be cut in favour of showing Hogan and the outsiders. As we go to a break Tony is mumbling about the nWo being “jerks” whilst Larry says “it’s the 90s. Hogan happens”. No idea what he means by that.

When we get back from the break Tony apologises for his comments. What comments? Calling Hogan a thug and a jerk? Jeez, you better start relaxing a little Tony or you’ll start breaking out the “gosh darn it’s”. 

Stinko appears in the entraceway, radiating with his usual charisma and charm. At least somebody is interested in this match. They literally focus on Dean’s static face for about ten seconds. Tony just keeps ranting about Hogan.

JL gets down on his hands and knees by his own accord. Odd strategy. 

Rey hugs him from behind. I have no idea what is going on here. After some brief chain wrestling Rey then decides to get down on his hands and knees.

Seriously, what is going on here? Rather than give Rey a cuddle from behind, JL just boots him in the back. Tony says the fans have been “wowed” by Mysterio’s moves, which is a lie as he hasn’t done anything of note. Well, he might have, but we haven’t seen any of it thanks to Hogan and the commercial break. All we’ve seen are arm holds, headlocks and Rey and JL getting into doggy positions for reasons the announcers don’t bother to explain.

Larry claims that “a big neck is easier to break than a small, limber one”. Not sure I understand the logic there.

JL puts Mysterio in a boston crab in what has been a painfully slow cruiserweight match. Seriously, how is a match between Jerry Lynn and Rey Mysterio this fucking boring? 

Fireworks go off as hour number two begins, and we switch to Eric Bischoff and Bobby Heenan. This is literally the most exciting part of this match so far, but the last thing it needed was another distraction.

The match spills to the outside and JL slams Rey into the barricade.

He also slams Rey’s head into the ring post. Bischoff and Heenan meanwhile pick up where Tony and Larry left off and continue complaining about the production truck being spraypainted. Seriously guys, get over it. Do you not remember a few weeks ago when the outsiders were literally trying to kill wrestlers with baseball bats? This is pretty tame in comparison. A bit of water and the truck will be good as new. 

It’s kind of fitting that this match ends with a botch as Rey attempts to do his springboard hurricanrana off the apron...

But JL can’t rotate all the way over so instead his head just slams into the mat. Ouch. Rey gets the pin and Heenan advises JL to “go to your room”. OK. That was the slowest and most disappointing Rey match on Nitro to date. It might have been better if the announcers had spent more time telling the story of JL trying to ground Mysterio with mat holds, but instead they were just talking about the nWo, so... yeah. 

Rey Mysterio defeats JL via Pinfall.

Mean Gene is in the company of the lesser known Horsemen, along with Woman, Liz (sleeping?) and Debra. 

Gene tries to shill his hotline by talking about some rumour about Mongo going back to the NFL (if only), but Mongo isn’t having any of it, telling Gene he doesn’t give a shit about his 1-900 number. Mongo says that “in hindsight” Sting and Luger shouldn’t be going to War Games with Flair and Anderson, it should be Mongo and Benoit. So much for respecting Flair and Anderson’s decision last week. Mongo says they’ll prove it to the world, to WCW and to the nWo, then makes a fart noise. Gene says the nWo have been “having a little fun painting”. I love how the announcers have been so offended by what happened, and Gene is just like “whatever”. For once he has it right.

Woman is all over Gene and he tells her she has to “knock it off on television”. He’s definitely up for it once the cameras are off though. Woman says she can’t help herself (why?) and then asks how things are between Gene and Hulk Hogan. 

Uncomfortable. Still not sure why everybody is obsessed with this Okerlund and Hogan thing. So what if Gene did join the nWo? Why would anybody give a shit?

Gene switches to Benoit, who immediately fucks up the start of his promo by struggling to pronounce “relinquish”. Benoit says tonight isn’t about vengeance or envy, but it’s about “security”. Strange word to use but OK. Benoit says to look into his eyes and asks if we can see “the hungry beast”.

Not really. He looks bored.

We’re thrown back to Bischoff and Heenan at the announce desk. Bichoff notes that Macho will have his chance to face Hogan for the title at Halloween Havoc, then we are shown footage from a couple of weeks ago where Hogan came out to whack Savage with a chair and help Flair beat him. We then see Savage’s promo from last week and the end of the match with Macho and Giant, with Macho making the mistake of cracking Meng over the head with a chair. After this Gene is in the back with Savage.

As usual there are random WCW shirts hanging from the lockers, and a towel. I hope that’s clean - kind of gross if not.

Gene tells Macho that Hogan “did you in”, as usual he isn’t mincing his words. Macho screams that he’s “quiet but deadly right now”. Macho says that he deserves to win at Havoc and that it’s for “all the marbles”, even though he only has one marble in his head. Macho says it’ll be “the scariest match of the century” and he’s going to take Hogan apart because nobody cares.

Gene disagrees and says that he does care, and Macho yells “I don’t care if you care!” - Gene mentions that Savage has the Giant at Fall Brawl - the PPV before Havoc - but Savage responds “I’m going to bowl through the Giant and that’s it” before storming off. “Randy Savage, do you have an extra chair?” Okerlund calls - can’t tell if he’s being a dick or not. You can hear Savage hollering something inaudible. Quiet but deadly indeed.

We go back to the arena and unfortunately Hacksaw is out next.

For reasons beyond my understanding he gets a ridiculous amount of pyro. Goldberg levels of pyro. 

This guy’s expression says it all. He hasn’t been impressed with much so far tonight, not sure why the camera keeps showing him. Heenan admits he isn’t thrilled that WCW’s future lies with “a madman, a beserk individual who can’t put a thought together”. Brutal. He then goes on to say Savage will never give up and if anyone wants to beat Hogan, it’s Macho. So now I have no idea if Heenan is for or against the idea.

Duggan’s opponent is the Giant.

Happily I don’t foresee this ending well for Hacksaw.

“Hacksaw” Jim Duggan Vs The Giant

Hacksaw immediately gets a “USA” chant going and stomps around the ring like a child.

He attempts a shoulder block on the Giant but bounces off of him, which prompts Hacksaw to adopt this pose.

Duggan attempts another shoulder tackle but Jimmy Hart grabs his foot, which causes Hacksaw to sprint - or more accurately jog - after Hart on the outside of the ring. He manages to get Jimmy’s jacket but the mouth of the south escapes. Not exactly hard to outrun Duggan in fairness. 

The Giant comes after Duggan, who tosses Hart’s jacket into his face and then throws a few punches to Giant’s chest before getting back into the ring, yelling “HOOOO” and getting another “USA” chant going. Giant gets up on the apron but Hacksaw knocks him off and then gets back out of the ring. Heenan suggests Hacksaw is “like a refrigerator” and doubts Giant can chokeslam him. Considering we have seen Giant chokeslam the much bigger John Tenta more than once I’m not sure this logic makes much sense, but whatever.

Giant whips Duggan back first into the ring post, but then Duggan moves as Giant charges him.

Imagine getting outsmarted by Jim Duggan. 

Giant is finally able to get back into the ring and puts Duggan into a bear hug.

He can barely get his arms around Duggan’s thicc frame. He might be the only person in WCW who could wrap his arms around Duggan though, so it’s somewhat impressive. Hacksaw manages to fight out of the bearhug and stagger into the corner, so Giant goes over and starts slamming his butt into Hacksaw’s gut.

I think this picture says enough.

Duggan attempts to slam the Giant but can’t lift him up. Giant clobbers Duggan back down to the mat, and then...

Ted DiBiase appears in the crowd. Whilst he slowly makes his way down to ringside Giant and Hacksaw are cuddling in the ring again.

I have no idea why Patrick looks so terrified. It’s possible Hacksaw has farted. Anyhow, Hacksaw pulls out his trusty roll of tape - from the way he digs it out I think it sits somewhere underneath his balls, which is disgusting, then blasts Giant in the head with it.

It doesn’t really have much effect, although I dread to think what it smells like. Jimmy Hart gets up on the apron holding Duggan’s 2x4. Nick Patrick, Jimmy Hart and Hacksaw then have a tug of war over it.

At this point I’m quite confused as to whether the roll of tape is legal or not. Patrick did not care in the slightest when Hacksaw was whacking Giant with it, but I swear Hacksaw has been disqualified before for using it. WCW, where rules are as useful as Chavo Guerrero Jr. Whilst all this nonsense is going on Giant grabs Duggan and...

Chokeslam. Goodnight. Match over. 

The Giant defeats “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan via Pinfall.

That match lasted a lot longer than I thought it would, and Duggan got in way too much offence. Giant did not benefit from this match at all. The camera immediately switches to DiBiase in the crowd who gives us the Four Horsemen salute.

A few things to note. Firstly the guy to Dibiase’s right doing it with him just looks bizarre. Secondly the guy to DiBiase’s left is booing very aggressively - unsure as to whether he’s mad Hacksaw lost or just dislikes Ted. Thirdly the guy behind DiBiase’s shoulder is screaming and looks like he’s popping out of DiBiase’s shoulder, like that character in MiB II. 

DiBiase opens has palm for “five” and says “next week”.

Looks like he’s about to do the “you can’t see me” thing, but he doesn’t. The guy to DiBiase’s right is shocked by this, again copying the “five” hand gesture and yelling “five! Next week! Five!” at whoever is next to him and the camera. 

Bischoff asks if DiBiase is playing games. Heenan says he’s known DiBiase for a long time and, exact quote, “he doesn’t play games, he plays games that are serious”. He does play games then. Bischoff says “maybe he’s the fifth horseman”. Yes, the fifth member of the four horsemen. That makes sense.

Because we can’t go one segment without Okerland, he’s now on the ramp with Giant and Jimmy Hart.

Gene says Giant is “in shock”, Giant replies “you’re roggone right I’m in shock” - I assume he means doggone but is for some reason channeling Scooby Doo. Giant, whilst talking, says he can hardly talk because he’s in shock. Giant’s face is really close to the camera and it’s really unsettling.

Back up a little, jeez.

Anyway, Giant takes exception with Macho blaming him for losing the title to Hogan. Giant asks why Savage wasn’t around to help out when Nash and Hall helped Hogan take the belt from the Giant. A fair point. Giant postulates that Savage was scared, and he “can’t cut the job”, whatever that means. Giant says Macho isn’t going to fight Hogan, he is, because he “is the world heavyweight champion”.

Giant looks like he’s about to cry. He also seems to be in denial over losing the title. He says he’ll beat either Hogan or Savage for the belt and that he’ll be waiting for Savage at Fall Brawl. 

As Gene talks we can clearly see the Giant’s spit on the camera lens. Nice. Gene actually gets out a hankerchief and tries to wipe down the camera saying “for goodness sakes these guys are very messy”.

We come back from the break to find 80s rejects the Rock ‘n’ Roll Express coming to the ring.

Seriously, these shirts.

I hope they didn’t sell these. Looks like somebody literally drew the design on a white shirt for them with sharpies. 

More enthusiastic crowd shots. Why is it every time they show this guy on the right he looks bored as fuck? Why is he even there?

This fella also gives one of the least enthusiastic “woooo”’s and thumbs up I’ve ever seen. Orange Cassidy would be proud. 

Ric Flair’s music hits.

DiBiase is looking at Liz and Woman and likes what he sees. I’m with you chief. Heenan says that DiBiase is sitting in the crowd “inconspicuously” but then notes he made his way to his seat literally through everybody in the middle of the show. He’s contradicted himself within single sentences three times in the last twenty minutes. He’s a very confused man tonight.

Bischoff: “I’ve just thought of something. He could be the fourth nWo guy, and next week there’s a fifth”. Really, Eric, you’ve only just come to that realisation? I think everybody else probably came to that conclusion first, rather than assuming DiBiase was the fifth member of the four horsemen, but OK. Congrats on gaining such insight. He’s still pushing the fifth Horseman idea as the more likely outcome, though, so still a total dunce. Hogan, Nash and Hall - all arrived from the WWF, two of whom very recently. DiBiase left the WWF in May/June. 

Obviously going to join the Horsemen and not the WWF-invaders-but-not-WWF-invaders nWo faction. 

The Rock ‘n’ Roll Express Vs Ric Flair and Arn Anderson

As usual the Horsemen end up getting their butts kicked early on. Flair takes a double dropkick out of the ring and starts squaring up to fans.

Ole has lost some weight.

The Horsemen surprisingly take control for a while, then a brawl breaks out between all four men in the ring. Arn eventually sneaks up on Morton and hits him with a DDT.

Gibson sees this happen, and is literally on the apron as Ric goes for the pin...

For some reason he is insanely slow and casual about getting in to break it up though, so the ref counts the three and your winners are the Horsemen.

Ric Flair and Arn Anderson defeat the Rock ‘n’ Roll Express via Pinfall.

I love how at the end of the match Gibson stares down so disappointedly at Morton.

I mean, he could have easily broken up the pinfall, but he made about as much effort as the people who designed he and Morton’s t-shirts. What a bell. This was a short match, not that I mind. 

Bischoff says it looks like Arn Anderson could chew through the steel cage at War Games, “and no doubt he will” - erm, I think there is some doubt as to whether Arn will literally chew through steel, but OK.

Oh look, it’s Gene. What a surprise. He isn’t even waiting by the entrance anymore. Straight down to the ring, not even letting the Horsemen get a breather before shoving a microphone into their faces.

Gene complains about Woman molesting him again, and begs Liz to do something. Liz coyly says “there’s nothing I can do to control her”. It’s like the start of a creepy porno. 

Gene asks Arn about the upcoming War Games match.

Arn: “There’s a time to ogle the women, Gene Okerlund, and this ain’t it”. Slapping Gene down to the ground. I like it. Arn says that the hourglass has been turned around, and the sand is running out on the nWo. Not even close Arn, not even close. Arn repeats that the nWo picked their spot about ten times before saying “when they shut the cage, and you look into our guts” - wait, what? Shouldn’t that be eyes? The only way I can think to look into someone’s guts without cutting their stomach open is... never mind. Arn says the Horsemen were in the first War Games and they’ll be in the last one.

Quick fact check on this - nope. If we’re talking purely WCW War Games 1997 was the last one the Horsemen were involved in. 1998 was Team WCW vs nWo Hollywood vs nWo Wolfpac and there was no War Games in 1999. They apparently had a random one in 2000 on Nitro but that didn’t involve the Horsemen either and who gave a shit about WCW at that point anyway? Back to 1996...

Arn says the Outsiders will be gone by now and we won’t see them again tonight. He says if you want to be a man in this sport you need to jump on a guy, eye to eye, nose to nose... uh...

Gene’s expression mirrors mine.

We see a clip from the Clash of the Champions - Flair has Hogan in the Figure 4 and Gene asks Flair if Hogan submitted. Flair claims that Hogan looked into his eyes and said “oh great Nature Boy, I give up, I quit, you are too much man, today”. Not only would that be a really strange thing to say in the circumstances, but we are literally watching footage which shows this never happened. Flair is screaming that the Outsiders better be ready because War Games “are not in the Big Apple, they’re not in Chicago, they’re not in LA, they’re in Winston Salem, North Carolina”. 

Liz looks like she’s really enjoying this promo. Flair’s head looks set to burst. Woman is trying to molest poor Gene again. Gene thanks Flair, who continues to go absolutely nuts, flailing around like he’s having a seizure.

Totally insane. I love how Woman is so used to it she’s just looking on like nothing weird is happening at all.

Another Glacier promo. I’m sure this will all be worth it when he debuts... right?

Out next is Chris Jericho.

I can’t really make out what he’s yelling at the camera, but it sounds like “let’s go, are you ready WCW for lion”. Sure. Jericho is yelling to try and get the crowd pumped up.

Doesn’t appear to be working. These are the kind of expressions you’d get if you took a shit in the entranceway. What is with WCW showing totally unenthusiastic crowd members tonight? 

His opponent is “Das WunderSwan” Alex Wright.

STOP PANNING TO BORED MEMBERS OF THE AUDIENCE.

WunderSwan does his usual backslip off the turnbuckle as he enters the ring.

Impressive until he blows a knee out on one of his landings, then stupid.

Chris Jericho vs “Das WunderSwan” Alex Wright

Bischoff takes credit for signing Jericho to WCW. Is this his debut? Just checked wikipedia and yes, it is indeed. Bischoff calls Jericho “an upstanding young man, and an outstanding wrestler”. Like a teacher’s report card. Heenan asks if Bischoff has co-signed for a house with Jericho. Bischoff suggests that Jericho and Wright “could be the backbone of WCW for years to come”. Jericho left in early 1999 despite being hugely over and Alex Wright became Berlyn, so, no.

Match starts off pretty slow with various mat holds. For some reason Bischoff takes this moment to shit on Big Bubba, mocking him for having a problem with Glacier - “he’s not even here yet” - and saying that he has a problem. Not sure what prompted that. Jericho hits Wright with a spinning leg kick, which Bischoff describes as an elbow for some reason, then does his trademark dropkick off the turnbuckle, sending Wright crashing to the outside.

Bischoff calls it an “inverted dropkick”. I have no idea how you would even invert a dropkick, but OK. Springboard dropkick would be more appropriate. Wright manages to get back into the match and hits a cross body on Jericho from the turnbuckle.

Heenan says Alex Wright has “more experience” than Jericho which is definitely not true. 

Jericho:

Alex Wright:

Enough said. Get your facts straight Bobby.

At one point Jericho is outside of the ring and Wright gets up top...

So, what’s the plan here? A double sledge, Macho Man style? A flying cross body? A dropkick?

No. None of these. He just jumps down and smacks his arm/head onto the guardrail.

...

...

...

What a helmet.

Jericho rolls back in the ring and Wright gets counted out. For some reason Jericho tells the ref he “doesn’t want to win this way” and it gets declared a No Contest. WTF? If it’s a count out then it’s a count out, Jericho can’t decide to call it a No Contest just because he feels sorry for Das BlunderDunce. 

The crowd boos as Jericho checks on Wright.

Chris Jericho Vs “Das WunderDunce” Alex Wright ends in a No Contest.

Are you kidding me? Gene is out there AGAIN? I hope he isn’t getting paid by screen time because he literally gets more of it than anybody else on the show. His face should be front and centre of all promotion items. 

Wright is stumbling around, seemingly concussed, but Gene coldly says they’ll get him on his feet and then says that Jericho’s debut was a “breath of fresh air”. It really wasn’t any better than a lot of the cruiserweight matches we’ve already seen, but sure, whatever.

Jericho says he came to WCW to fight “to the best of my ability”, as opposed to only some of his ability, I guess? Jericho says he respects Alex Wright, for some reason, and then says whilst he wouldn’t take a victory like this, he knows somebody who would... Hulk Hogan and the nWo. OK. Not sure why Jericho feels the need to shit on Hogan, Hall and Nash right out the gate but there you go. Jericho says “me and Alex are going to fight with all of our hearts... for WCW!” - possibly the cheesiest and lamest thing I’ve ever heard. Wright is still staggering around in a daze. He stumbles towards Okerlund who bluntly tells him there’s no interview time left and he should go to the back and get his wits together. No fucks given from Gene.

We come back from the break to find the next match about to begin, with two teams in the ring.

Looks like Scott Steiner (w/Crazy Huge Arms) and Rick Steiner (w/Clinical Lycanthropy) facing off against the Blue Bloods. Earl Robert Eaton and Squire Dave Taylor if my eyes don’t deceive me. Where’s Lord Steven, dammit?

The Steiner Brothers Vs The Blue Bloods

The Earl and the Squire start the match by arguing about who is going in first. Normally both want to start, but in this instance neither of them do. Eaton complains he always starts. Squire keeps yelling at Eaton to get in the ring. The Dog Faced Gremlin soon has enough of this bullshit, sneaking up behind these idiots and slamming their heads together.

Eaton now does get in the ring, but Taylor is still shouting at him, so the Earl pushes the Squire off the ring apron.

Rick Steiner gives Eaton a hip toss and barks. After smacking Eaton around for a bit Taylor comes into the ring. Both Blue Bloods get clotheslined and roll out of the ring to continue arguing, whilst Rick and Scott do their pose with Rick barking again.

Rick crawls over and bites the rope.

This is who you’re losing to, guys.

There was no tag but the Squire is in now. He actually gets some offence and hauls Rick up onto his shoulders, as Eaton dives from the top rope.

As you might expect this doesn’t end very well, as Rick appears to get dumped right on his head.

But for some reason Eaton is the one who is knocked out.

The Steiners win. I don’t think Scott Steiner or his arms did anything in this match. Hold on, wasn’t Dave Taylor the legal man here? How did Eaton get pinned? Maybe it... oh, no, it’s just WCW. Rules only apply when required.

The Steiner Brothers defeat The Blue Bloods via Pinfall. 

The Squire is understandably annoyed that Eaton somehow managed to lose the match despite not even being the legal man, and slaps him in the face.

Should arguably be slapping the ref for counting the wrong man, but whatever. 

The Blue Bloods get into a fight, which Eaton gets the best of. We suddenly hear Rick Steiner on the microphone saying “Eaton’s going crazy! Get him, Bobby, beat him up!” - that’s not helping. 

Okerlund again, of course. He asks Scotty what he makes of this and he replies “I don’t know Gene, they’re going nuts! I thought they were supposed to be friends? Partners?” - because no tag team has ever had an acrimonious split before.  

Nick Patrick is trying (badly) to stop the Blue Bloods fighting, whilst Gene asks them to calm down and Rick Steiner continues trolling them and telling them to keep going. Hah. 

Once the Blue Bloods are finally gone, Gene asks Rick about their match with Harlem Heat at Fall Brawl. Rick says “you know, Gene, being a dog (Clinical Lycanthropy, this man needs a doctor) I prey on my opponents. You see, in the dog pound, it’s the be a hard times (?), when you boys get to Halloween Havoc, I’m going to be Peter Peter, the Pumpkin Eater and it’s gonna be my party!”

Just... what? I couldn’t help but laugh at this. You really have to watch this promo to understand how hilarious it is. Rick is absolutely insane.

Scott reminds Rick “it’s not Halloween, it’s Fall Brawl” as Rick barks. Scott says something inaudible about hens going “cock-a-doodle-do”. Scott says when the Steiners get to Fall Brawl they’ll be “getting radical” and the Heat will be “going down”.

Mental.

It’s main event time. Out first is Chris Benoit and Mongo, accompanied by the females, of course.

Woman has decided to put some shades on, even though she wasn’t wearing any before. We get another shot of Ted DiBiase looking on. 

Here come Sting and Luger.

Chris Benoit and Steve “Mongo” McMichael Vs Sting and Lex Luger

No messing around here, we go straight into a brawl with all four men dogpiling into the corner. 

For some reason Randy Anderson rings the bell to start the match, despite both teams still brawling and nobody in their respective corners. I guess it’s a Tornado Tag now!

After a couple of minutes things settle down a bit, with Luger and Mongo in the ring and Benoit and Sting on the apron. Embarrassingly for Luger Mongo gets the better of him, then tags out to Benoit. Heenan suggests that at War Games the cage could be upside down. Logistically I doubt that’s possible. 

Luger gets beaten up by Mongo and Benoit for a while before the old double clothesline spot sending both men down.

That clothesline is literally the first move Benoit has taken, but he acts like he got shot and Luger somehow starts getting up before Benoit. Maybe this is why Ric and Arn don’t want you at War Games, Chris.

Luger manages to tag in Sting, who takes charge.

Sting goes for the Scorpion Deathlock on Benoit. Mongo runs in to break it up but ends up getting dropkicked out of the ring.

All of a sudden, Hollywood arrives.

Hogan backs up around the ring as McMichael stalks him, then Scott Hall flies in out of nowhere to knock Mongo down.

Heenan flees the broadcast booth. Nash has also appeared and along with Hall he rams Mongo’s head into the post. No harm done I’d imagine. Mongo gets tagged, and the official title of being the first person to be spraypainted by the nWo. The Production Truck obviously holds the honour of being the first object to be tagged.

Benoit gets hit with the Outsider’s Edge.

Whilst Sting eats a Jacknife Powerbomb.

Luger got rammed into the ring post earlier by Mongo, so he’s still laid out on the floor somewhere. Hogan tags Benoit and Sting.

Ric Flair and Arn Anderson finally come out, albeit a bit late.

Ric and Arn initially have the advantage, but then both get spraypainted in the eyes.

Hogan tosses Flair to the outside and spraypaints his hair like a skunk.

The crowd begin throwing garbage in the ring as Hogan and the Outsiders celebrate.

Seriously, these guys are getting pelted with cups of drink.  Hogan spraypaints the back of Nash’s shirt for some reason. I think he’s a little too excited about this new hobby.

Check out the amount of trash that’s in the ring.

Gross. The nWo commandeer the announce desk and run off Eric.

“Heeeere’s the nWo!” 

“Anarchy! Anarchy!” says Nash whilst Hogan yells “anything less would be too civilised!”

The show ends with a look at the carnage inside the ring...

And a replay of DiBiase holding up the five fingers. 

Awesome ending to the show. This was peak nWo and when people really started to take notice of what was going on in WCW. 

[rennaefricke]

The Illegitimate Child

Scoundrel, criminal, thief, adventurer, womanizer—many titles could be given to the man that shared Rennae's blood—James Vanner. Nobody has, and nobody will, tie him to the result of his lust: the illegitimate child. The only one who might have identified the father was the mother, but she passed untimely—just after murmuring her daughter's name.

A pirate, Jimmie scavenged the sea with his brethren, exploiting freely as they pleased. The crew was known by their ship—The Crimson Raider, and many have fallen by their hands. It's uncertain of the current whereabouts of the pact, but it's certainly reasonable to assume that their past misdeeds had caught up to them.

When grounded, Jimmie played a character. Transparent in his dealings, one would never assume the man to be a savage cutthroat. He was composed, cunning, and outright charming. If there was something that he could obtain through means of charisma, he would get it, especially in regard to women.

The pirate's origins were in Lordaeron—among thieves. Now, when one imagines thieves, it's easy to see vagabonds in rags, disreputed outcasts, or ragamuffins stealing food. Not many picture the more wicked, the more cunning—the more dangerous. Fluent in thieves' code, Vanner was among those in higher regard, those with twisted morals, those who disregard common principles in favor of their wealth. He and his crew were wretched, ever alert of lucrative opportunities, siphoning riches from anyone who might leave themselves exploitable. Murder was not at all out of the question. Many glorify the adventurous spirit of a pirate, while few consider the reality.

James had met Rennae's mother in Blackwater Cove. A man without moral, he had satisfied his desires with the dark-skinned woman of the night, leaving her with his child, never to be seen again. Chelsea could barely support the development, falling into illness that tormented her for several months, and it soon spelled her doom. It's the way the world turns—some suffer while others flourish.

Having a more lawful life, the daughter strayed from her absent father's methods, but no matter how different her experiences may have been—he was still her blood.