Tom Sawyer was still sitting on a bench in the locker room. His bag sat open at his feet, but he hadn't bothered to change out of the yellow-and-orange spandex. With Benny Doyle finally taking off, that left Tom alone in the wrestler-dominated part of the Mellon Center. He held his smartphone in his hand, staring at a picture he had found on a wrestling fanboard.

 

It was a blue-and-white hand-drawn(With a Bic, the caption proudly said) picture of Stephen Greer, Ty Walker, Eric Dane and Christian Light in jumpsuits with Proton Packs on their back, the Untouchable John Deere logo being sucked into a metal trap-box. 

 

It was awesome, sure. 

 

But one thing kinda... nibbled at Tom. The Untouchables were defeated, Jeff Andrews lost his title, and Eric Dane had his company back. All was right with the world, and the Force's balance had been reestablished. Nobody had seen Andrews or any of the other Untouchables since the end of the show, and so everything Tom had been trying to do was done.

 

Why did Tom feel so... unfulfilled?

 

Was it because Jeff could still pull something? A man that crafty [i]always[/i] had a backup plan. And Kai Scott was still a viable threat. And always had about fifteen irons on the fire.

 

Was it because Heidi had one-upped Tom? Again? And this time, she had dealt Tom a devastating blow that sat in the bottom of his gym bag? The loss of the Macho Coin was bad news. Tom didn't even know what would happen to the Macho Madness with the Macho Coin devastated. Would it escape, to wreak havoc on the Earth? Would it be lost as a force for Good forever? Was it dead?

 

Was the problem that Stephen Greer and Ty Walker had ended the night, still not believing in Tom? He had wanted to win the respect of Team Danger so badly, and it was a shame he couldn't pull it off. Light must have been disappointed that Tom didn't at least follow his example and sack up.

 

Or was the problem... That Tom Sawyer had no part in the show's result? If Tom hadn't been in the arena tonight... It wouldn't have changed a damn thing. Tom would be better off, even. He wouldn't have gotten the Coin smashed.

 

The spotlight had never been on Tom. He had never gotten to hear the roar of the crowd, and he had never gotten to actually sock Jeff Andrews in the mouth himself. His boots were still unlaced, and never had been fully done up. That wasn't something Tom was used to. It wasn't something Tom liked. He was missing out on everything.

 

bing-bong

 

The “New message” indicator flashed on Tom's phonescreen. Tom could spare the energy to hit the button and open the text.

 

”Still in the arena?”, asked FoDSB.

 

”yes, locker room”, Tom replied.

 

A few brief moments later, Tom could hear footsteps coming down the hallway toward him. He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, gave his neck a quick twist to work a pained kink out of his spine, and sat up. 

 

 The door to the locker room opened... And in walked Sergei Bogorovich. The former Russian Superman... Well, he was wearing baggy cotton karate pants and a loose-fitting black tee-shirt. He had a week's worth of stubble on his jaw, and his brown hair had gotten shaggy. He didn't have the same knifelike edges that he used to... Things were very much more calm, now.

 

Following him was a figure that instantly set Tom to delight. The most familiar person in Tom's life, in his most familiar outfit. A denim jacket over a black tee-shirt, a pair of bluejeans, shortly cropped hair and his handlebar moustache perfectly trimmed. The Sentry, Lucas Harper.

 

“Tom! What a show! Seeing Dane in the ring again was stunning, wasn't it?”

 

“Damn skippy!” Tom hops to his feet, overjoyed to see both men. But... Behind them was a third man, a fellow who was also familiar to Tommy's eyes.

 

“Boston! How're you?”, Tom asked. And the Spoiler adjusted his glasses, giving Tom a casual grin. In an expensive-looking suit, Boston seemed to have settled into the non-wrestling life fairly well. He did have a program from Untouchable sticking out of his suit pocket, though. Seemed that Boston certainly had been here to enjoy the show.

 

“Nice to see you, kid. Us three got an offer for you.”

 

If this was televised, some chunky fangirl would probably turn this into pornography.

 

“Oh?” Tom put his hands on his hips, watching the three veteran wrestlers.

 

“Well, you're already training at the Training Temple,” Boston began. “Lucas and I want to head up there this time, and help you and Eugene train, teach you other stuff... Y'know. Coachy things.”

 

A massive wave of relief rushed through Tom, and he visibly slumped, finally feeling like things were going to be okay. It only took Tom a half-second to decide tha- “Yes, absolutely. I've been feeling...”

 

Lucas had already appeared at Tom's side, clapping the kid on the shoulder. “I know, kid. We're gonna help you. You've gotten bogged down with Heidi, and you're taking too much emotional weight on your shoulders.”

 

Serbo reached out, hands forming his typical zen yin-yang shaped pose. It was a good teaching tool for the more appealing parts of his lessons, these days. Serbo drew on his martial skills because they were worth money. But the art of Zen was what he really enjoyed.

 

“You're giving yourself responsibilities you don't need to bear, Tom. It's time we got your head right.” Serbo spoke with the confidence of someone who had been in the same place as Tom at one point.

 

“And, uh, not to be insulting, kid... I think you need me around to give you advice.” Tom shot Lucas a grin, nodding. That was obviously the case. He hadn't come anywhere near reclaiming the magic of the Foreshadowing on his own.

 

“So. We three kings of wrestling are bearing gifts. Something something star.” Lucas glanced to Boston, who rolled his eyes. Never let a white boy write lyrics.

 

“Can Eugene come?” 

 

“If he wants to, sure.”