The music selection had the best of both worlds. Old and older.

 

"You know, I grew up in a little diner like this."

 

Tom was looking over the menu. Always the same stuff, although the Canadian menu had a few things the American standard didn't.

 

"I was helping wash dishes at five. And when I finished my work, I got to watch the TV. And I could always find wrestling on."

 

Tom was debating between the burger and the chicken fingers. As always, he'd get the French onion soup, too. Had to have those onions for flavor. The kid's metabolism was like a hummingbird, and wrestling had a high death count anyway. 

 

Aware of all the genre's conventions, Tom wouldn't be at all surprised to be a wrestling tragedy, like that Hernandez guy in Texas, or everyone's favorite bearded monster in Puerto Rico.

 

"I dunno if there was a local access channel that really, really liked wrestling or if I happened to have a magic TV hookup or if my parents stole pay-per-view, but I could always find wrestling on."

 

Tom was idly rolling a sealed plastic cup of creamer in one palm, the other scanning down the menu as he stared at the plastic-sheet-covered-portal into the same menu that served for every diner in the country.

 

"So, I watched a lot of wrestling. We were a 24-hour diner, and my parents often had to each do half of the night. Nobody in town really wanted to work evenings, so..."

 

Tom pursed his lips, tossing the creamer into the air, letting the thing tumble through the air before he playfully snatched it from the sky.

 

"I always felt bad, and would usually stay until midnight with whoever was working. When they were busy with the truckers who used our rest stop, I'd watch wrestling."

 

Tom gave a quiet, serious look to the camera.

 

"To a little kid who follows along in his imagination, a constant bombardment of wrestling makes you appreciate a few things. You see, you can tell when something big is about to happen. The wrestlers all start getting jumpier, everyone starts getting new tights, new hires come in and make big splashes with both feet, and... Well..."

 

Tom looked back down to the menu. The waitress came up, careful to stay out of the camera's view, and Tom handed the thing over.

 

"Garden salad with chicken, please. Orange soda and a water, and an order of mozzarella sticks."

 

The woman nodded invisibly and vanished, Tom's gaze coming back down to the camera. He smacked his lips thoughtfully, clasping his hands.

 

"I might not be the biggest deal in the world. I'm no Victor Mandrake, no Mike Bell, no Robert Lancaster. But I have done some stuff, and I came back HERE and NOW because..."

 

Tom sighed.

 

"You might as well call it prophecy. I come with a fact that you can take as law."

 

Tom flipped one hand to slam an index finger into the table, making the little Flip-camera jump a little.

 

"I need people on my side, to oppose what's coming. I don't suppose anybody's listening to me yet, but I've got to put it out there. I need a faction. Xavier's crazy and gone, Lucas won't come, Boston won't come."

 

The kid sighed, running a hand down his face.

 

"Jimmy, if you're actually listening, and I'm not sure if you are, I could use your help. You and I could be the law again, and settle shit, like with the squirt guns."

 

"Christian, I know you're busy with Wargames, and I know Claira St. Sure and you have this whole MMA respect rivalry punchface thing going on, but I could use your help.

 

"Eugene, I know things have kinda gotten bleak for you, but you gotta shake that off, man. We should talk at Wargames. I could use your help."

 

"Pete, I know you want to win the match, but you were a solid pure fighter, and I'm not saying you can't bang all the ladies still. Do what works for you, man, but if you have any of that old do-gooder, fight for the right to fight in you, I could use your help."

 

"Dragon Jones. Not "The First". Just Dragon Jones. I could use your help."

 

Tom sighed, and suddenly reached out, putting a hand over the camera, going to shut it off. But then... He paused, for just a moment.

 

"I'll prove I'm not crazy at Wargames. I'll win that match. Can't argue with success, right?"

 

Tom chuckled weakly... Then shut the camera off.