What is friendship anyway?

Sailed, brother? Sailed? For fuck sake, you sure do got a fancy way with words, don't you? Fucking sailed... You ignorant fuck.

What kind of person looks back at the events of the last year and says to themselves... yeah, Cable abandoned his friends.

I died you stupid fuck!

Four fucking times they lost me on that table after someone hired a squad of mercs to take me out for good... and the reality is... that 'someone' was most likely your brother in CCPE, Freddy Debonair... so yeah... go ahead and tell yourself I abandoned you and Tristan.

Yeah, Mac... I abandoned YOU... but not once did you show up to see how I was doing afterwards. Tristan might not have shown up, but he at least called and talked to Darina a couple of times to fucking check on me.

You couldn't even be bothered to do that you sorry bastard!

So... really... if you want to lie to the world... and you want to lie to yourself... and you want to believe in the core of your soul that I abandoned YOU... then go right ahead. Sniff in the fumes of delusion and tell yourself whatever story you need to so you can look at yourself in the mirror at night. If anyone knows how hard it can be to do that, it's me... so good luck dealing with your own demons. That's always going to be on you... all alone.

Seriously though... you want to examine a case study of abandonment?

Let's not even bring up the fact that Fred disappeared after the beating I handed to him in that Iron Circle match. He fell off the fucking planet, but you haven't mentioned your stable mate once when talking about all the ways I abandoned you. Hell... Goth was out with injury too... and yet his name doesn't come falling out of your mouth half as often as mine does... and JMont as well... turning his back on the entire CCPE faction and starting a war with Page on WGWF but still being a part of the THEM faction in this Supershow? Really? I mean... honestly, York and JMont should be switching faction allegiance if you ask me, but down the road they are running in the same pack and still you're claiming one of them, even if nether claim you guys! THEN... the coupe de grace here Mac... your buddy Bam Miller... yeah the guy who joined you to win the WGWF Tag Team Titles, then lost in a match against me and Spencer Adams, only to lose the Titles during Tag Team Turmoil to a decrepit geriatric and a space lord... then disappear just like everyone else in your life!

See... the thing your missing here is I don't actually think you KNOW what 'friends' are... not truly. You look at guys like Bam and Fred and Goth and JMont and York... and you go... “Yeah... those guys are my friends”.

No they aren't.... but you don't know any better. That's what you think friendships are... using each other to further your agendas and when the usefulness is gone... they aren't pulling their weight anymore... they fail at something you needed... poof... gone just like that. You would turn on any one of them for success, a bigger pay day, or probably even a nice sized pulled pork sandwich.

You don't have any loyalty to anyone but yourself... and you can't forge a real friendship without loyalty.

But I have a feeling you wouldn't understand anything about THAT even if I broke it down for you in Crayola... so I won't waste my time.

Just like I'm not going to waste my time at Us VS Them breaking you down like a shit colored wax stick in the Florida Summer Sun.

That's right Mac... you didn't like my opinion on your win against Adams, and you made it crystal clear what you thought of me when you went off about it, and friend or not... it's time to finish this.

It's not my fault I find a win by brass knuckles distastefully a bitch move for a man who claims to be a bad ass. I mean, a man with an accolades list as long as yours using a weapon to secure the victory... legal or not... outside of a hardcore style fight... just puts an asterisk in the win column for me, and an asterisk win is just embarrassing for a real warrior. Or, well... it would be if you were really a real warrior and not just a cage fighting neanderthal.

No Bane... the real issue here isn't that I abandoned you... it's that you just haven't figured out that the issue with people leaving you isn't about them... it's about you.

You aren't worth the trouble it takes to be your friend Mac... because you don't know what the word means and what it actually takes to be a real friend. You don't have the nuts to stand on your convictions and stand by the men and women that actually matter, and you damned sure don't have the brains to recognize when a real friend is calling you out on your bullshit... like that cheap ass bitch made win you got over Adams.

The fact of the matter is Mac Bane... you don't have any friends because you aren't worth the time or trouble it takes to stand by your side in the endless bullshit you stir up... and I for one am glad I got to see what you really are before it was too late.

You want to see what real friendships are? Take a real close look at our partner Tristan Slater. Yeah... he's your tag partner... but he isn't your friend, Mac. If he was, and I know this because he has done it to me... he would have called you out on that win too. He might be your tag partner, and you might do very well for yourselves... but if it ever came down to you and me in a ring with our backs turned, and Tristan had to lay one of us out... he and I would be going to get a drink after the show and you'd be nursing your aching noggin asshole.

He and I have waged a hundred wars, and when the dust settled, we came out better in the end by becoming the friend we each needed and supporting each other. I know you don't understand any of this, but afterwards, when you wake up in the ring staring at the bright lights of the US v THEM show... take a long hard look at yourself Mac, and maybe you can start to see where it's a YOU problem... and not a ME problem.

Oh, Captain... My Captain... the day grows dim and judgment is at hand... sorrow fills my heart for your soul lost and lonely among the stars, but no purchase here will be found for you. There is no room in friendship for failure to stand up and hold your closest accountable, and for this very reason... there is a lesson you need to learn boy, and I'm donning my teaching cap. Class... is in session.


“JOHN!!! I couldn't stop him! He shot himself... holy shit... he's...” the voice was crazed... hysteric... Understandably, panic had taken hold of the man on the other end of the phone call.

“Carl, what are you talking about? Where are you?” John's gravely voice rang out in answer, the words steely and full of concern.

“Phil called me earlier tonight. He'd been drinking again and it wasn't going well. I came over and was talking him down trying to pass the time until he sobered up or I could get him to go to sleep, but he... he... he fucking went to the bathroom and I didn't hear him come out... he just... FUCK!” Carl tried to explain hurridly, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a jumble.

“OK, Carl... I need you to breathe... in...” John says as he takes a deep breath in and holds it, waiting on Carl to respond in kind. “And out...” he says calmly, exhaling slowly, waiting on Carl yet again.

“And again...” John breathes in holding the breath, and then out as Carl repeats the breathing exercise with him on the phone.

“Alright, Carl... I need you to step outside... the porch, the hallway, somewhere outside, and I need you to call 911. I'm on the way there right now... I'll see you in five minutes, OK?” John says slowly, then waits for a response.

“Yeah... yeah... I'll call em, and I'll see you in a few minutes. Right.” Carl says, his voice completely disconnected, the trauma he had witnessed started to set in and his wits failing him in the moment as the call ends.

“R2... we need to go. Now.” Cable snarls as the air around him in the office overlooking the Orlando Orcas baseball field fills with purple swirls of hard light color and he disappears in a flash with a loud POP as papers from the desk twirl and twist around the room.




Domestic Survivor's Group Meeting, FSCJ Campus - Jacksonville, FL
Three Days Prior


“Alright everyone, if we could all find our seats? I think everyone is here, and it's about time to get started.” John's voice filters across the white walled classroom as men of various ages and ethnicity begin to gather to the ring of metal framed chairs with faded brown leather seat cushions in the middle of the space.

As they continue to find their seats, one of the men removes an over-sized dark gray hoodie, a few holes apparent in the seams as if it were old and well worn, and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs before sitting. Another takes off his ball cap, usually pulled low over his face, and holds it in his lap as he takes his seat. John, as he makes his way to his seat in the circle, reaches a massive hand up and pulls the white ceramic mask from his face, and sets it under his chair, the scars crisscrossing his face in ropes that tangle across his face in all directions as he smiles at the men in assembly around him.

“It's good to see you all again this week. I am glad to announce that we have been blessed, and the college has agreed to continue to allow us to use this space for the next six months, so the need to find another meeting place has passed for now.” Cable says happily to a few soft applause and smiling faces around the circle.

“So, welcome everyone... before we begin, does anyone have anything they want to share this week?” John asks as he looks around the circle slowly.

One of the men, a frail looking man with a soft scruff of light brown hair on top of his head looks up nervously, and starts to open his mouth but thinks better of it, and stops himself.

“You're more than welcome to share here, Phil. We're here to support you and help you through whatever it is your going through. That's what this group is here for. I know you've been going through a rough patch with your custody hearings, and if you need to talk to us, we're all here to listen.” John urges softly, hoping the man will find the courage to continue, “But if you don't there's no pressure...” he continues.

“It's just... well... the verdict came back yesterday.” Phil mutters softly, almost under his breath, He looks down at the floor and fidgets his feet under the edge of his chair before licking his lips and stammering again before tears start to fall across his cheeks.

“It's, OK, Phil... we're here for you. What was the verdict?” John asks cautiously, knowing it couldn't have been good from the mans response already.

“They took em... they took em away and gave her full custody! They said that... they said that I just wasn't present enough the last couple of years... and... and they never ever took into consideration how many hours I have to work to keep the house running while she just spends the checks as fast as they come in! They didn't even care!” he says as tears run freely down his face in rivulets dripping off the bottom of his chin and staining his khaki shorts in little circles.

“Phil... I know this seems impossible, and I know I don't have any idea how you feel right now... but there is still hope. We can appeal the decision, we can get your schedule working for you in this, and we can get it fixed. This isn't the end here, and while I know it looks bleak, there are options here, and we can still get you back with your kids. I can help you get the papers filed for the appeal and for another hearing, and we can make sure you get to see the kids.” John reassures the man across the circle with a faint hopeful smile.

“Can we though? Can we really? I've seen cases like this last for years in court, and by the time the poor schmuck gets the hearing and gets a new decision, the kids are grown and he's missed everything!” Phil nearly screams at John, his emotions running rampant and fear griping him in its entirety.

“Yes, Phil... we can... and until then, we can still spend time working on you too. There is still a lot of healing to be done by everyone in this room, me included, and it isn't just an overnight kind of thing. It takes a long...” John explains softly, trying to clam the man down.

Despair writhing inside Phil's mind, anger stirs at the hopeful words John offers, and it sparks him to stand quickly, the chair beneath him sliding back and falling over as his face twists into a snarl and he stares at John across the circle, his teeth bared and eyes raging.

“Really? Yeah? What money am I suppose to use to pay for that kinda court process, huh moneybags? We all don't have cash just falling out of our asses you know? I'm gonna have to get a second fucking job just to cover the child support they gave her, let alone have the time to cut down my hours and file for another trail you dumb son of a bitch... so tell me exactly how it is that this is gonna get better?” Phil screams at him as the other men in the room watch on, concern growing as the tension in the group grows exponentially in that moment.

“Phil... You're understandably upset, but you don't have to insult me. That's not how we heal... that's how we hurt each other. I know not everyone has a...” John starts to explain softly as he holds a hand up trying to calm the situation.

“No, asshole... you don't know. You're so disconnected from reality you think you can just throw money at everything and it just magically gets fucking fixed, but that isn't how the world works for the rest of us you stupid fucker! For the rest of us... I just lost my fucking kids...” Phil cuts Cable off screaming, and as the words become reality, Phil takes several steps across the circle pointing his finger at John as he makes his way across the gap. John stands up from his chair as Phil comes closer and closer, and finally, Phil is close enough to poke Cable in the chest with his finger, the anger inside of him flooding the room like an ocean wave crashing across the men inside this lonely room.

“You don't get to have hope for us all the fucking time! Sometimes, there just isn't hope...” Phil screams, poking Cable hard in the chest several times as his words come out like venom.

As Phil screams, poking Cable... John reaches out with both arms and hugs the man, pulling his small wiry frame in close, his tiny legs dangling from under his massive arms wrapped around his entire being as John envelopes the angry man in as much caring love as he can muster. As the moments pass, the man goes from screaming rage, to crying and sobbing against John's massive chest. Soon, several other men in the circle make their way over and add their loving embrace to the pile sharing as much care as they can with the man who is struggling with the loss of his children from his life by court order.

“We are all here for you, Phil... you are not alone in this. We can work it out.” John says softly as the other men all pitch in their own words of endearing support.

“You aren't alone.”
“We're here with you.”
“It will get better.”
“You have to fight... for your kids.”
“We love you, Phil.”

After what seemed like an eternity, the group started to disburse once more, making their way slowly back to their seats. Eventually, John sets Phil back down on the floor in front of him, and takes him by the shoulders, looking directly into his eyes.

“There is always hope. There has to be. If we lose hope then there is nothing left to fight for. I will not give up on you, and neither will any of these men. We are in this together, and we will find a way to fix this, Phil. We will.” he says softly, seriously... conviction in every word as he speaks it.

“I know... I'm sorry. I don't know...” Phil tries to apologize, but John pulls him in for another hug.

“Don't worry about it. We're all here to heal, and sometimes healing is ugly and hard... but we have to work through that to get better, and you have all the reason in the world to heal... for your kids.” John says before he lets go of the embrace, and Phil sheepishly makes his way back to his chair.




New Breed Foundation Headquarters
One day after the meeting...

“John, this entire program is a financial nightmare. The company is funneling so much money into the legal fund for this that it's actually starting to effect a few things on the other side of the books.” the Citizen says across the dark hardwood desk top between them as he pushes a stack of financial documents across towards John.

John looks at the papers, and then shoves them off the desk onto the floor nonchalantly.

“I don't care, Aaron. It's important, and we are funding it. If I have to set up ten more fund raisers this year and give up my entire salary, we're covering it. These men need the help, and I am not about to leave them to the system all alone. Family courts are broken, and the laws are not designed to help these men deal with any of the loopholes or pitfalls that they see every day in that court room and I am not about to see this program fall through the cracks. I am not going to turn my back on them. They need this.” John says matter of factly as the Citizen just stares blankly at him from behind the eagle mask.

“I don't even know what to do with you, John... seriously. You're going to ruin this company one day. You are.” Aaron says to him with a frustrated chuckle.

“Maybe I do... but I have to help as many people as I can before that happens, so you just tell me what I have to do to make it work, OK?” John says flatly with a smile as the scene fades.


Domestic Survivor's Group Meeting, FSCJ Campus - Jacksonville, FL
The meeting after the incident...

The white school room is somber and the normal sounds of chatter before the meeting are non existent tonight. None of them men are wandering around, and the doughnut table is untouched.

“Tonight, we are here to mourn the loss of our friend. Phil... I know your struggle seemed hopeless... but there is always hope. We'll miss you, Phil.” Johns says as a tear rolls down his cheek, and he stands, putting one foot onto his chair, and then the other as the other men in the group follow suit.

John looks around the circle sadly, every man standing on his chair, hands over their hearts, tears streaming down their faces, remembering their friend who lost his struggle, hoping they could each find a way to beat the odds and win their own battles as the scene fades to black once more.