Fun With Numbers With Professor X (Ryder Blade RP v PJ)

DAD

I

Route 104, Ontario to New York

November 16, 2015, 02.22AM

So...King of the Cage was a thing. A thing where Ryder impressed, not only the fans at the Air Canada Center, but most importantly, me. It's no secret I was sceptical about my boy's chances going into that thing – considering how he won most of his matches so far at VoW – but Ryder made a point of shutting up, not only me, but hopefully most of his detractors as well. He had three straight matches on the same night, in an environment where he could not rely on any outside help...and he won two of them. In as clean a manner as Ryder Blade ever wins a match. He took it to another promotion's Xtreme Champion – not too shabby of a wrestler himself - got another one up on his old 'friend' Tyler Storm, and only just failed to make the final four due to focusing on the wrong contender during a triple threat. Overall, at the end of the night, the only names on more people's lips than my little pet project's were Metal Black's – the girl who won Ryder's last match of the night and who would go on to win the whole damn thing – and Nina Stokes's, because she has a large fanbase and is an established independent wrestler. But if I had to pick a breakthrough star for the tournament, other than Metal Black...I would definitely go with Ryder. Among the Chris Callums and the Brittany Lohans of the independent wrestling scene, he was the one who caught everyone's attention. He was the one who got everyone talking. And I wouldn't be surprised to see Sprintex's sales skyrocket in upcoming weeks as a result. All in all, Ryder did what he gets paid to do – raise awareness for my product and win wrestling matches – and managed to turn some eyes towards both himself and VoW in the process. A win for everybody.

Of course, once we get back to England, I'm sure things will be the same as always. People will still do their best to try and run down Ryder for being a cheater – never mind that actual cheating in his matches has been minimal ever since his last title defence – and for being too arrogant by half – never mind that he has the right to, after two huge wins to add to his ever-expanding streak, and now a star-making effort in an inter-promotional tournament. But people won't see that. They will see what they want to see. And what they want to see is Ryder as the guy who's all mouth, no action – the guy he has not been since at least Heatstroke, if not earlier than that. I get why, too – seeing him that way makes them justified in hating him and wanting him to lose. It's the exact same reason why people say Kobe Bryant isn't that good. Or LeBron James. Or Ryder's main man Tom Brady. It's not exactly that people are jealous...but they do need a justification for hating an athlete who's put in work and shown improvement, and who can't really help the way he is about his successes. As someone once said, 'it's not showing off if you can back it up' – and Ryder's been backing it up. So much so that, well, he has me thinking all this, doesn't he?

King of the Cage is in the past now, though; with most of Canada behind us and the United States border within sight, it is time for us to start focusing on our next challenge – namely a fellow by the name of Patrick Jones, who took it upon himself to challenge Ryder in the umpteenth attempt to knock my boy off his perch. Ryder didn't exactly accept the challenge so much as burst into uncontrollable laughter, but VoW must have seen that as an admission, because the match was made for their upcoming show, Darkest Hour, taking place in Sheffield, England on November 23. That leaves us a little over a week to get Ryder in shape for the match, fly back to Europe, have a couple of days of R&R and then – hopefully – add another successful defence to our personal record. Hard? Most definitely. But as a famous slogan says, 'impossible is nothing'. And when you have the best resources money can buy at your disposal, that motto becomes that much closer to the truth.

'Dad?'

The voice from the back seat catches me off-guard, not only because this has been a mostly silent trip – with everyone still weary from the night's events – but also because of how childlike it sounds. It's not often I see Ryder like this, stripped of his usual blustery confidence, and I am suddenly aware of just how young he really is. By no means a teenager – as we once tried to portray him, not that long ago – but young enough to still sound like one when he's tired and spent from a night of wrestling and getting over the disappointment of not winning. Which, might I add, he is handling remarkably well – if I didn't know any better, I'd be hard pressed to believe this weary, frustrated, but otherwise composed young man was the same person who needed hypmotherapy to get over the first (and, before last night, only) loss of his 'new' career.

'Dad??', he insists, when I take a moment too long to reply.

'Yes, Ryder? What is it?'

'If that last match had been one-on-one...The X would have totally won it, right?'

I give this some thought, and I can't say I disagree. Ryder was holding his own just fine, and the only reason he lost was that he got too carried away beating up one of his two opponents – some guy by the name of Dante McCaffery – and allowed Metal Black to make a swift escape while his back was turned. Had that third element not been there...yeah, I could actually see Ryder winning. Which considering my mindset going into the tournament, says something about his performance in it.

I must have fallen silent for a moment too long again, because my would-be 'son' wastes no time piping up again:

''Cause like...if that other dude hadn't been there, then The X wouldn't have been punching him. And if The X wasn't punching him, that chick wouldn't have climbed outta the cage...'cause The X would'a been punching her! Right, X-Dad?'

I have to admit, he's making perfect sense – which is more than you can say for Ryder most of the time. That's probably why, for the first time in recorded history, I fully mean what I say when I tell him:

'Most likely, yes.'

This seems to appease our conquering hero, and for the next several miles, silence is once again king inside our unmarked, tinted-window sedan. It isn't until we're back across the United States border (surprisingly enough, with very little trouble) that Ryder speaks again:

'Hey yo Big Dog, get your tablet out, yo!'

The request is unusually firm – firm enough, in fact, that I turn around in my seat to enquire:

'What for, Ryder?'

'The X ran outta tunes, X-Dad', he wails. 'The whole thing started over! The X doesn't wanna listen to all the same songs over again!'

The complaint is a fair one – it is sort of a long trip – so I nod at Mike:

'Go ahead.'

Mike fishes in his jacket pocket and produces the state-of-the-art tablet I equip my personnel with in case of emergency. He hands it over to Ryder, who beams, only for the latter's face to drop as I warn:

'Be careful, Ryder. That's office equipment. If anything happens to it, I'll be significantly pissed.'

Ryder may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but he is smart enough to understand the implications contained in that statement, and I am pleased to see him handle the tablet with utmost care; in fact, he goes as far as to hand it back over to Mike, asking him to boot up the VoW website. My Chief of Security looks puzzled for a moment, but I can read Ryder like an open book at this point.

'He wants to see You-Know-Who again. Humor him.'

Mike nods curtly, promptly booting up the relevant stream, and thanks to the magic of in-car WiFi hotspots, it takes no more than a couple of minutes for Ryder to be fully immersed in the latest edition of Breakthrough. The sounds of the crowd appropriately cheering, booing and gasping echo tinnily across the sedan, here and there muffled by the same impatiently repeated comment from Ryder:

'Come on, bruh...come on, come on, come on...'

Then, for the umpteenth time this week alone, the excited exclamation:

'All right!'

Despite having witnessed this scene at least once a day ever since the episode aired, I still can't help but let a grin play across my features for a moment; there's just something about puppy love that makes even a blackguard like me lower his defences.

For that is what this is: puppy love. Or should I say, infatuation. The Xcellent Champion, a young man who can have any girl he wants on any given night with a snap of his fingers, has gone and developed a crush on precisely the type of woman most unlikely to respond to his advances: a fellow competitor. It is her match that he has made a point to watch on repeat throughout the week, even over his own challenger's losing effort against Alec Rose. You'd think that was the one he would be focusing on, but love does strange things to people – such as making them want to see their crush's match rather than scout the opposition. He might as well – that's probably as close as he is likely to get to her outside of a match capacity, anyway. As long as he doesn't lose sight of his actual opponent for Darkest Hour, there is nothing wrong in letting him entertain a little crush; they're healthy for a kid his age. Who knows – it might even give him some extra motivation to win on the night. To impress his girl, and whatnot.

'You're going soft, Charlie Falcone', I reproach myself, with a shake of the head. 'What next, playing catch with the kid? Taking him fishing?'

'Shut up', I make myself tell myself. 'It's just good business. Ryder's useless when he's sulky. You know that. Let him have his fun, and when it's time to face Patrick Jones, he'll come through. He always has so far, hasn't he?'

'Well, except for that one time...', comes the immediate thought, but I quash it. There won't be another time like that. Not if I can help it. Not if Ryder can help it. Or Kyrill. Or Mike. We are a team, and as a team, we will work to make sure Ryder never, ever has to go through an ordeal like that ever again.

'Still, you can't be sure...' Yes I can, I tell myself. I can and I am. There won't be another incident like the one at Fate of The Gods. Not at Darkest Hour, and not ever.

And yet, as I glance towards the back seat - where my ward is still engrossed in the same match he has watched at least ten time by now - something deep in the recesses of my brain compels me to add:

'I hope...'

II

Sprintex HQ, New York City

November 19, 2015 11:34AM

'Hey yo X-Dad, you got a calculator?'

The request is so offbeat it catches me completely off-guard, causing me to double-take as I lift my eyes from the jam-packed Sprintex e-mail inbox and glance at Ryder over my spectacles.

'A calculator? What do you want a calculator for?'

'Sorry, X-Dad.' He shoots me a bold-faced grin. 'It's kind of a secret!'

A secret!? That's fucking rich!

'Since when do you keep secrets from me, Ryder Blade?!'

'Since, um...' He's torn. I can tell. He knows he's probably in trouble if he doesn't tell me, but whatever part of his brain is urging him to keep his secret is putting up one hell of a fight. Eventually, he settles for halfway. 'Since The X doesn't wanna spoil the surprise for you.'

'Surprise?!' Curiouser and curiouser. Maybe I shouldn't have given this kid so much free reign, after all; lately, the attempts at being his own person have become a little too forceful. I'll have to have a word with him if this goes on.

'Yeah. A surprise. For when we go to make the video for PB&J!'

I can't help but chuckle. Is there anyone this kid can't find an on-point nickname for? 

'PB&J? Like peanut butter and jelly?'

'No, like Pret--' Ryder suddenly realises what he almost did and halts himself, covering his mouth with his hand in comical, almost cartoony fashion. Then, after another moment, he grins. 'Verrry sneaky, X-Dad. Trying to get The X to spill the beans! But it's not gonna work – not on this rad dude! You'll have until we shoot the video...'

Man, I sure hope whatever's coming is worth all this secrecy! Ryder's never been one to keep mum about anything, and certainly not around me. This sudden change in paradigm is disturbing in all sorts of ways. In fact, in our...trade...this is the kind of situation that usually ends up with someone getting whacked. First it's a harmless little secret, then you go behind the boss's back on something, next thing you know you're skimming off the top of the cut. And that's when the shit hits the fan. Not that Ryder is a made guy or anything, but you know...better safe than sorry.

'I don't like secrets, Ryder. Now, are you going to tell me what you intend to do with a calculator, or am I going to have to ask Mike?'

'Geez, X-Dad!', he protests. 'The X just wants to find a couple of numbers! Don't have a cow, bruh!'

'I will have a cow when I want to, Ryder Blade!', I thunder, standing up and slamming my fist on the table. 'Now, tell me what you're up to, or we're going to have a serious problem!'

My outburst, though totally genuine and not at all planned, seems to have the desired effect, as Ryder shrugs, staring at his shoes for a minute, visibly humbled.

'Well?', I prompt.

'All right, look...X-Dad...you know how usually The X just goes off-the-cuff with his videos? Shooting straight and layin' it on some suckers?'

Why can't I bring myself to stay mad at this kid? 'Sure. Your point?'

'Well...this time...The X is kind'a planning ahead. 'Cause he's been thinking of so many sick burns and rad jokes that he kind'a wants to make sure he doesn't forget any when it's time to make the video. You dig?'

Our Xcellent Champion, planning ahead for a video? My, my. We are growing up fast.

'And you need a calculator for that because...?'

'That's the secret part. It's for the video, but The X doesn't want you to know it before you see it. 'Cause then it won't be as much fun. You feel what The X is saying?'

Suddenly, it all makes sense. My fake son is acting like a real son, proud of something he created and wanting to surprise his Dad with it. It's almost touching in a way. I'd be moved if my heart wasn't ninety-percent bedrock.

'I feel it, I feel it.' I make a show of yielding to his wishes. 'This had better be good, though. And it better not get Sprintex in trouble. Are we clear, young man?'

'Crystal Pepsi, X-Dad. Big ten-four. No problemo.' Ryder pulls off a salute, just the drive the point home, and earns himself an eye-roll. Then, I reach into the middle drawer of my desk and hand him what he wants – a basic, old-fashioned Casio calculator.

'All right!' Ryder reaches for it and – like every young person in possession of such a device – starts fiddling with the keys. A moment later, a calculator is shoved in front of my face, its LCD screen showing a series of numbers:

80085

It takes me a moment to get the significance of such a sequence, but once I get it, it seems totally obvious. Of course. He would.

I glare up at my snickering ward and clear my throat.

'Very funny, Ryder. You do know you have a title defence coming? I don't want you to come crying to me when you lose, saying you should have taken it more seriously. If you lose this one and don't get to break any more records, it's on you, young man.'

'Aw, c'mon, X-Dad!' He tries for his trademark lopsided smirk. 'PB&J is a piece of cake! The X just beat Tylenol twice in a row, hung with all those other dudes at King of The Cage, and now you wanna tell him to worry about Patrick freakin' Jones? Get real, Dad-a-rino!'

I clear my throat again, more pointedly this time. 'I would thank you not to use that tone with me, Ryder. And I want you to remember, there was once a guy in VoW who was on a winning streak just like yours, and who had a belt no one could take off of him – just like you. You know what his name was?'

'Yeah – Nobody. 'Cause Nobody has a streak like The X--'

'—his name was Ziu Zhong', I press on. 'And do you by any chance know who ended his streak?'

'Yeah, but Dad--'

'It was Patrick Jones', I cut across again. 'The same Patrick Jones you're dismissing so lightly as a challenger for your belt.'

Even after having all this pointed out to him, Ryder still does not seem fazed; in fact, his cool, collected calm is almost infuriating. 

'So?!', he asks, with a shrug. 'The X beat Zzz Zhong too. Big whoop. Besides, what has PB&J done since he won the Zero Interest Belt?'

'He managed to be higher up in the card than you at Heatstroke', I point out, aiming for where I know it will hurt. And hurt it does – in a flash, Ryder's serene expression is replaced by one of wounded indignation.

'Yeah, but The X still stole the show!', he protests. 'And he made Psycho Stacy relevant. And he broke a bunch of records! And he shut up all the haters. And he became Mr. Main Event! And at Darkest Hour, he's gonna make history again and become the longest reigning champion in VoW history! Just you watch him!'

By the time Ryder is through, he is quivering – and I am smiling. It took desperate measures, but I managed to light a fire under his ass that needed to be there. From this point on, I can be sure Ryder will be taking, if not his opponent, then at least his match preparations seriously – which was all I ever wanted to accomplish to begin with.

As such, I feel considerably reassured as I turn my attention back to the deluge of e-mails that have flooded the Sprintex.com 'Contact Us' inbox ever since Ryder was announced as a participant in King of The Cage.  Most of them are offers from sponsors – most of them quite well-known and some of whom have been trying to sponsor Ryder ever since his historic victory over Stacy Jones. However, 'logistic factors' – mostly the fact that our outfit is, let's say, less than wholesome – have prevented any and all negotiations with 'legitimate' brands; the Xcellent Champion is a Sprintex exclusive, and will remain a Sprintex exclusive for the foreseeable future. Which is not necessarily a bad thing – any good businessman knows having a public figure exclusively contracted to your brand is a sure-fire way of boosting up its profile. If said public figure happens to be someone as controversial (in a good way) as Ryder, then all the better. Proof of this is that Sprintex sales have been steadily increasing ever since I brought the kid in, and the fact that he turned out to be a winner has only helped the situation. The more Ryder wins, the more people want to try the product he sponsors; and the more people want to try the product he sponsors, the more money I make. Partnering up with a brand like Skull Candy or Tapout could arguably help with Sprintex's brand awareness, but it would also potentially bring about a bunch of shit that I'm not about to deal with – which explains why I've had to give every single one of these e-mails the same two-letter reply.

After twenty minutes or so of total immersion in the steadily-clearing inbox, I become aware of the fact that the compound is strangely silent. Even when Ryder is not particularly excited, there is usually at least some indication that he's there; he is usually quite a noticeable presence around Sprintex HQ. Not so this time. This time, everything is so silent that I can't help but leave my desk and go through to the main living area to investigate whether something might have happened to the boy.

What I find is even more surprising than I had been expecting. Ryder is hunched over the dining table, with his back turned to me, furiously scribbling away. Now and then, he pauses to find a number on the famous calculator, before turning his attention back to the task at hand. He looks to all the world like a kid balls-deep in a particularly taxing load of homework – except no one as old as he is would be doing homework using only an outdated and fairly basic calculator and a single sheet of paper.

As I approach the table, he senses me coming and – after making sure there is indeed someone behind him – hunches over his sheet of paper, protecting it from view, the same way a small child might protect a special drawing they are making for his parents. The glower he shoots at me prompts me to hold my hands up, in an expression of innocence, and take a step back...which, in turn, nearly sends me sprawling over Jamie, who has evidently just come in through the other door.

'Sorry, Mr. B.', he blurts out, before turning to Ryder. 'Yo, X! We gotta go, dude! Charles said he wanted us down at the gym at half-past, and we still gotta change!'

'You got it, bruh', Ryder retorts, rising from his seat and preparing to follow Jamie up to their respective rooms to change. He has not taken more than a few steps, however, before he realizes he is leaving his cheat sheet behind, and whirls around on his heels to snatch it off the table. He makes a point of glowering at me once more as he folds it and puts it in his pocket, then hurries after Jamie as they go to prepare for their MMA practice. With the security team also nowhere in sight, I therefore find myself alone in the middle of the large common living area, with still barely a clue as to what secret machinations my would-be 'son' may be up to.

'Well, Charlie', I tell myself as I turn away and re-enter my office. 'There's nothing to it. You're gonna have to wait to find out...'

III

Undisclosed Film Production Studio, Sheffield, England

November 22, 2015, 12.22AM

Even though it is close to lunchtime, the studio is bustling with activity. Technicians hurry to and fro, our director yells instructions, and a gaggle of make-up artists busies themselves with our protagonist, who looks happier than a pig in shit (as any man would in his situation.) Everyone knows how much money our exclusive contract with their studio drives, and nobody wants to be caught slacking when the paychecks come. Which, to be honest, is part of the reason I picked this studio to produce our latest video in the first place. That, and a recommendation from a local contact.

I finish going over the camera set-up with the director, Joe, and walk over to where Ryder is surrendering himself to the expert care of the make-up artists. Even with his face covered in powder and attractive blondes styling his hair, however, he is still (somehow) sufficiently focused to give his security team instructions – another example of how much his recent run of form has caused him to mature.

'So you two dudes know what to do if The X forgets anything, right?'

Kyrill and Mike both nod, but Ryder does not seem entirely satisfied. Producing the famous sheet of paper from his pocket, he holds it out to them and points at what I assume is an example at random.

'This one here. What if The X is forgetting that one?'

'Vee do ziss'. Kyrill gives a thumbs-down, and Ryder shakes his head irritably, drawing a frustrated cluck from one of the make-up artists as powder goes flying everywhere.

'Sorry, babe', he quickly tells her, before turning back to the offending two-some. 'No, no, no! That's this one, K-Dogg!' He points at another spot on the cheat sheet. 'This one is this...' He points a finger down at his own rear end, then back up at Kyrill. 'Got it?'

Kyrill nods, and Ryder finally seems to trust that they can get the job done. He lies back in his chair and once again allows the make-up girls to correct any mistakes his agitation might have caused, but as it turns out, they're done; it does not take more than a minute before Ryder is striding over to the director, indicating he is ready to begin. As Joe yells for 'places', the Xcellent Champion retrieves his belt and takes off his jacket, revealing – to my utmost and genuine surprise – an argyle vest and dress shirt underneath! As my jaw drops to around my collarbone, he then retrieves a pair of thick black lense-less glasses from his pocket and perches them on the bridge of his nose. Only then does he find his spot directly in front of the camera, draping the Xcellent belt around his shoulders just as Joe takes his place at the directorial chair. As the cameras begin to roll, I steal a glance towards Kyrill and Mike, to find them nearly bursting with restrained laughter. So! Telling your bodyguards and not telling Dad, eh, Ryder? This had better be good...!

No sooner has that thought crossed my mind than my attention is diverted to the set, where Ryder is rattling off his usual intro:

'What up, Xcellentologists? You know who this is! Your Xcellent Champion! Mr. Seventeen-and-One! Mr. Main Event! The longest-reigning Xcel Champion of all time...and soon to be THE longest reigning Champion in VoW HISTORY...ya boy...The X!'

That never gets old – and the fact that he can now back up each and every accomplishment he's listing only makes the whole thing that much more satisfactory. There is no time for me to dwell on that, however, as Ryder seems eager to go on.

'Now, The X knows what his Xcellentologists are thinking. 'Hey yo X! What's up with the threads bruh? Halloween was like a month ago, yo! You look like a geek!' Well, see...the thing is...today, The X has a couple of math problems to go through with his peeps. So he dressed for the occasion. Today, you can call ya boy...Professor X!'

This gets a barely-suppressed chuckle out of Mike, and a smirk out of me - even an old out-of-touch man like me is sufficiently 'hip' to recognise the reference. As for Ryder, he is clearly getting into his groove, and barrels on.

'Don't worry, though – The X ain't about to take any of his Xcellentologists to school! The only person The X is gonna take to school is a certain dude who thinks he can hang with the Xcellent Champion at Darkest Hour!'

This time, even I have trouble suppressing a whoop. If this is what Ryder had up his sleeve this whole time, I can see why he would be so infuriatingly secretive about it.

'But before The X gets out there in Chef Field, England, and totally takes that one dude to school...he has a couple of numbers to crunch. You peeps don't mind, do ya?'

Whether or not his fans mind is of no consequence, however, as it seems clear Ryder is about to go through with his plan anyway. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a couple of roughly folded sheets, which he holds up to the camera before starting to read from them.

'For example...do you guys know how much 167-28 is? Or how about 2 + 0?'

Rather than wait for a response which will obviously not come, Ryder immediately answers his own questions:

'That's right: 167-28 is 139 and 2 + 0 is two. That's the difference between The X's title and his challenger's: 137 days and two successful defences.'

Oh, so that's what the calculator was for! 

'That's the end of the math problems for now, Xcellentologists, but it ain't the end of the lesson. Not yet. The X has a couple more numbers he wants to bring up here. Like three. Which is the number of matches The X had in a single night at King of The Cage. By the way, The X can totally guess what his opponent's gonna say about that, and here's the deal: The X totally didn't win King of The Cage, it's true. But you, bruh? You didn't even sign up for it. You say you care soooo much about your fans and VoW...well, why weren't you out there representing VoW? The X knows why. It's 'cause you were chicken. You were too scared you were gonna choke, so you stayed at home while The X and Tylenol and Psycho Stacy went to Canada to put VoW on the map. That's what you do, bruh – you chicken out. You say The X is the one who's too chicken to compete, but guess what? The X didn't see you out there facing all those dudes. Heck, even Psycho Stacy took her No Fear, No Negativity, No Wins World Tour to Canada! So why didn't you, bruh?'

Nods of approval all around – including from me. I remember when we had to script this kid's raps because he was so hopeless on the mic. The progress is unbelievable. I find myself thinking that reducing Ryder's daily Sprintex dosages was the best decision I ever made, just as he moves on to his next point.

'Which leads us to our next two numbers...two and eight.'

Ryder holds up a card with the inscription '2-8' printed on it.

'You know what this is, bruh? The X knows it looks like the score in a hockey game or whatever, but it's not. It's your record since Fate of The Gods. Y'know, the last time you broke a streak? The last time you looked important? In May?'

Even Ryder can't keep down a chuckle this time.

'That's right, bruh. If The X was you, he would never forget Fate of The Gods. That's probably gonna be the greatest night of your career. That was the night you beat big bad Zzz Zhong, the super-mega-mondo-supreme Champion, and ended the second longest streak ever in VoW. The X bets you'd love to do the same at Darkest Hour: end the longest winning streak in VoW history, and beat the dude everyone wants to see lose but who's too Xcellent to ever get beat.'

The Ryder smirk comes out in full force as he adds:

'Well, The X hates to tell you this, bruh...but if you want that, you better go fire up your Xbox and play a wrestling videogame or something...'cause there's no way you're doing it in real life.'

Ryder pauses for effect, and it works – he has me anticipating a killer blow. 

'See, just two weeks after you won the Zero Interest Championship at Fate of The Gods, The X became the Xcellent Champion. So he actually won his belt after you won yours. The difference is, when you were losing yours to some chick who isn't even here anymore, The X kept his. When you were losing on the pre-show at Heatstroke, to some butthead who isn't even here anymore, The X was defending his title on television. When you faced Seth I-Snore at Armed and Dangerous, The X bets you felt real proud that you got to be higher up on the card than him, but guess what? It was The X who stole the show, and had the match of the night with Psycho Stacy. And won again. And became the most record-breaking Champion in VoW history. Winning, dude, you know what that is? It's sure as heck been a while! Bruh, you lose so much your record is starting to sound like that Itchy and Scratchy song from the Simpsons...'he lost, and lost, and lost and lost and lost, lost lost lost, lost lost lost...the Loser Supremo shoooow!''

At this, everyone in the studio has a hard time keeping a straight face – but we manage to retain composure somehow, allowing Ryder to continue:

'And another thing, bruh...while you were losing all those matches and getting your two wins or whatever, guess how many matches The X lost? That's right...a big, fat ZERO.'

Another sheet comes out – this one with a big printed number zero – as the Ryder Smirk makes a second, triumphant appearance. The expression only lasts a moment this time, though, before being replaced by a furrowed brow.

'But The X knows what you're all thinking right now, Xcellentologists. 'Yo X, you talked a lot about this dude, but you didn't even say his name yet. What's this dude's name, bruh'? But you all know who he is. The same dude who had to ride on The X's popularity to get back to the top of the card and look relevant again. The same dude who hurt a body part so dumb, The X's brain didn't want to believe he actually meant that. Like, seriously, who hurts their freakin' elbow? No wonder The X thought he meant his shoulder – y'know, a body part people totally hurt for real sometimes!? But noooo...The X is the dumb one for screwing it up, right??? Besides, we all know which part of him was really hurt...HIS BUTT!'

Ryder takes a moment to compose himself – it's the first time he has really seemed agitated this entire session – and is soon back to his standard, calm delivery.

'Anyway...The X is talking about PJ. Which by the way, doesn't really stand for Patrick Jones. You know what it stands for? Pretty Jealous. Though he's not just jealous – like The X just said, he's also butthurt. So The X calls him PB&J. No, not peanut butter and jelly – Pretty Butthurt and Jealous!'

So that's what it was! Clever, I have to admit.

'That's right – jealous. Jealous that The X got here way after he did and is way more relevant. Jealous that The X broke records and got the biggest winning streak in the history of VoW, and he's up against Psycho Stacy and Ace Waaah-son to see who loses the most. Like, Psycho Stacy still kind'a has an excuse – she faced The X three times. Who did you face, bruh? Alec Blows?  Zakk Bore-Us? Bruh, the only relevant dude you faced since Fate of the Gods was already here when Abraham Lincoln discovered America in like 1934!!'

Factually inaccurate, but a good dig nonetheless; besides, who demands historical accuracy from a wrestling video? Oh yeah – Patrick Jones, probably.

'The X has to give it to ya, though, Peej – at least you're smart enough to know how to piggyback on actually relevant people to get to the spotlight. Zzz Zhong. I-Snore. The X. The problem is, bruh...you always lose. Even when you win, you still lose. Want some proof? Look where Zzz Zhong ended up after losing his belt. And look where you ended up. And look where the belt ended up. When Zzz had it, that belt was right up there with all the other belts in VoW. But now? Now, it's the Zero Interest belt. And you made it that way, bruh.'

Ouch. I know the value of hurting people with the truth, and Ryder just got a critical right there.

'So yeah – congratulations, bruh. You pulled off a heck of a feat. You made people stop caring about the belt you were holding. That takes talent!'

Ryder gives Patrick the most insincere of golf claps before continuing:

'And of course...while you were busy doing that...The X was making this belt the hottest commodity at VoW...and making himself the dude to beat! But yeah, go ahead and tell The X how he needs to back up what he says. Go ahead and tell The X he's chicken. You do that, bruh. The X is just gonna make like Taylor Swift and shake it off.'

Another pause for effect, then Ryder launches into what I suspect is the final stretch of his address.

'So yeah, PB&J. The X knows you think he's underestimating you. The X knows you think you can just come into Darkest Hour and do what you did to Zzz Zhong and break the Neverending Streak. Well, The X has news for you, bruh. First of all, The X isn't underestimating you – you really do choke that much. And second of all...you won't break the Neverending Streak. It can't be broken. If it could be broken, it wouldn't be called neverending. Duhhhh!'

Ryder pulls a face for a moment, but quickly continues.

'Besides, even if pigs fly and chickens start having teeth and you manage to beat The X...guess what's gonna happen? The same thing that happened when you beat Zzz Zhong. The X is gonna go on to become World Visionary Champion and make another belt look Xcellent...and you're just gonna lose to somebody else in a month and go back to being the choker you always were.'

Ryder leans forward, and I can sense the killer blow coming.

'So, Xcellentologists...now that we've looked at math, History and anatomy, what conclusion can we draw?'

He removes his glasses, holding them in his hand, and once again answers his own question:

'Easy...we can conclude that PB&J better remember to bring Butthurt Cream to Darkest Hour.

'Cause he's sure as heck gonna need it.'

'CUT!'

The entire studio bursts into genuine applause – myself included. This was worth enduring all that secrecy for. This was worth being kept in the dark for. In fact, if Ryder does half as well in that ring on Monday as he did here today, Patrick Jones stands absolutely no chance. Hell, I doubt he stands much of a chance anyway!

I walk over to Ryder the moment he gets out of the frame of the camera and goes to slap five with Kyrill and Big Mike. As I reach them, he is smiling from ear to ear and remarking:

'You two didn't give The X any signs...guess The X got everything in, huh?'

'You sure did, dawg', Mike chuckles, slapping five with Ryder again. Then, noticing me, he scrambles to attention, but I wave him off – I may be his boss, but even I am only human. After a performance like that, we all deserve to lighten up for a bit.

Perhaps that's what prompts me to, first of all, slap Ryder on the shoulder appreciatively and, directly afterwards, suggest:

'Why don't we all go somewhere, and I'll buy you two a drink?'

Kyrill and Big Mike light up like a Christmas tree, as Ryder shoots me a hopeful look. I take it upon myself to crush his dreams, however:

'Not you, Ryder. You can have a hot chocolate or something.'

Ryder sulks for a moment, but then seems to reconsider my offer and find it acceptable. The beaming grin returns to his features as he nods his head and gives a thumbs-up. Relieved that his rebellious streak has subsided for the moment, I nod and gesture towards the door, prompting the boys to hurry ahead of me to go fetch the car. As I  hear them trundle down the stairs, while Ryder and I wait for the elevator, I allow myself a grin. Something tells me this won't be the last time we'll be celebrating this week.