The man called the Deacon had never considered this possibility. Although he’d always been competitive, he’d not returned to wrestling to be at the top of the card, as much as he always enjoyed that role. No, he returned with one thing to do, one story to tell, and he’d told it. This epilogue had never been in the story’s outline, but somehow, he wondered if Jack always knew that it was.

The Deacon took a seat on the manicured grass. Life was returning to the hillsides just east of Washington, Pennsylvania. He sat a trophy on the grass, a belt that represented the best defiant competitor, and brushed off the stone face before him, tracing with his fingers the engraved portions.

Jack

So much had happened that Jack would have wanted to see, but the Deacon forced himself to remember that Jack had seen so much. Jack wanted his dad to be the hero, and thanks to Jason and so many others, Jack had seen that. Deacon’s wife said that Jack’s smile lit up the room when his dad had conquered the evil Stalker, metaphorically burying death itself in a mausoleum just as Jack’s savior had done millenia before.

Afterward that DEFCON match, the Deacon had gone incognito again, just as he’d done ten years prior, though this time it hadn’t been to retire. The man known as the Deacon hadn’t even considered retirement or wrestling or a career. The man didn’t have the bandwidth to consider anything.

“I miss you,” he said to the marker.

May 21, 2021

Wrestling fans had clamored for Deacon to be used better. He’d not blamed them, his ability to disappear from the dirt sheets was as legendary as those Chris Shepherd illusory entrances. They did not know much about his life because the man needed anonymity. Just as Jesus would disappear from the gathered crowds into the arid wilderness around Jerusalem, the Deacon needed his space, and in the days after May 21st, he’d taken it, letting only his closest, and oldest, friends near.

For two months, he stayed that way until the Favoured Saints called. They needed one more competitor to step in the ring for the trophy now resting beside him. Strangely enough, the Deacon had been listed as part of “Team DEF” to face the villainous, rampaging 24K. Somehow, the Deacon had become synonymous with DEFIANCE, whether some of those in the locker room liked it or not.

“I will go,” the Deacon had told them, “but t’ey need know, I not t’ere for FIST. I will not talk.” That last part had been easy, they enjoyed the old Mute Freak gimmick, and since Chris had made a point to be with Deacon over the last month, the Deacon’s need to speak was completely unnecessary.

And somehow, in that ring, the man known at Deacon remembered that smile - Jack’s smile. So, the Deacon stayed. He tried to give a bit of a rub to Conor, not that the kid needed it, and he told a memorable story with the man who was DEFIANCE’s most classic heel. It was good work that he was proud of.

Then the Favoured Saints called again; they needed someone to put a stop to Crimson Stalker, and at stake was…

Deacon looked from the gravestone to the Fist. He took a deep breath, and once again traced the engravings with his finger.

Forever our champion

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