When you wrestle for a certain amount of time, and you considered yourself some sort of serviceman for the sport of professional wrestling, oftentimes, you took a guy or two under your wing to help them improve. Eventually, they'd grow to succeed without you, but they don't often forget who helped them get as far as they did.

That, in effect, was my relationship with Simon Knox and Connor O'Reily.

My relationship with Simon's brother, Steve, wasn't exactly a great secret. I never got along with him, and I considered him an egomaniac with an inflated perspective of his value in this 'sport'. He was the son of an extremely famous wrestler named Earl Knox, who left wrestling to become an actor and died tragically in an on-set accident. He was the last guy Earl Knox trained to become a wrestler before his death, so now he thought he was God's gift to wrestling, and that made me just a bit upset. Especially when I had to work with him.

Simon was almost the opposite. He was arrogant, too, but he was never as obvious about it as Steve was. He once told me that he had little interest in wrestling success so long as it eventually took him to the movies like his father. I often told him to just go to Hollywood and have at it, rather than become a wrestler first, but Simon said that if he didn't approach things exactly like his dad did, he'd never consider it a success. It's actually maddening to me, because Simon has a lot of natural wrestling talent and a natural charisma that could take him far, but he never thought about the long term besides becoming an actor. I'd keep telling him 'you need to walk before you can run', but he'd always dismiss it.

Connor O'Reily was Simon's tag team partner. He acted arrogant, but he was really just an impulsive kid, and he always had to have his sister, Miranda, around to make sure he didn't get into any trouble. Judging from the way he acted, I think Miranda's presence had successfully kept Connor out of some particularly nasty headlines about our little sport. He was not only childish, but he always seemed to have an adverse reaction to alcohol. I guess it's the Irish in him.

I talk about these two mainly because they were the two guys I met in Detroit, the day before Sin On Spike 4 would hit the airwaves. I was leaving the hotel room to go to a local gym to assist with my training, and almost literally ran into Simon Knox in the hallway on my way out. Simon was with Connor, but Connor's sister was nowhere to be found.

As far as I knew, they did not know that I was Baron von Blackberry. Unless, of course, Miranda O'Reily blabbed it to them after she had made my wrestling gear for that persona. Which I sincerely hope was not the case, because the two guys who absolutely could not keep a secret were the two men that stood in front of me. They were very talkative. Gossipy, even.

'So,' Simon started, that cool and dismissive voice of his working its magic, 'What brings you to Detroit, Coral Avalon?'

I could understand why Inoue Doi called me 'bakayarou' instead of 'Coral' or 'Avalon-san', like any other decent human being. It's just how she was. But, really, was there anything more disconcerting than being addressed by your full name? That's like being familiar enough with somebody that they know your name, but they call you by the full name just to put themselves that much ahead of you.

'I should ask you the same question.' I said, right back. Meeting with these two was not what I had in mind when I thought about my tasks for today. I wasn't wrestling on Sin On Spike, but I still had to prepare myself mentally for getting into the Blackberry character and performing that. Lately, that'd been where the focus of my mental preparation had been, and it was more than I really wanted to do as a professional wrestler. Can't a guy just get over based on his wrestling merits, rather than how much of a fool he acted?

Sometimes, I think I was born in the wrong era.

'Hmph. Maybe we're just passing through.' Simon told me. I could often tell when Simon was lying to me, because, to be honest, talking to him was like being slowly constricted by snakes. It's that coldness in his voice, the very real sensation that I was talking to a man who stopped caring about everyone and everything around him. Simon wasn't passing through. He knew I had something to do with Sin City Championship Wrestling. Why else would I be in a dying city like Detroit... the sights?

'Let's not start the conversation with lies and flimflam, Simon,' I said, sharply, 'What are you doing here?'

Simon usually made this sound when he was amused at something, it was half of a sigh and half of a scoff, and it sounded a little like this: 'Fuuuu.' I hated it when he did that, more than anything else that bothered me about the guy. He can't just laugh or look smug like anyone else? It's actually pretty creepy.

He made that sound as he spoke, 'Fuuu. You have something to do with Sin City, don't you?'

What, was this an inquisition? I wasn't aware that this guy had the authority to carry out an interrogation to find out the truth of what the hell I'm doing in Detroit, 'And if I do?'

'The question that comes to mind is 'why?'.' Simon said, 'You don't exactly have a wide and expansive list of trusted allies there. Hell, is there anyone in that place that you'd even get along with?'

'Rhine, maybe.' Connor interjected, 'You know how those rubes from New Orleans just congregate together to bask in their collective loserness.'

I'm stunned that Connor knew what some of those words meant, even if he made up one of them.

'Right you are, Connor. Hell, I consider this whole year to be some weird aberration.' Simon said, almost without even batting an eye at his compatriot's comment. That was the oddity of these two. They knew each other so well that it was like they had a hive mind. They had similar trains of thought. They could keep talking to one another without giving anyone else a word in, edgewise. They sometimes even finished each other's sentences. Also, that whole gimmick they have about Boston sports wasn't just a gimmick. They really loved that stuff, and liked to flaunt their region's athletic superiority over the rest of the nation. Especially to people not from Boston, like me.

'I don't know that Rhine guy.' I said, quickly, so they couldn't just keep going with their tangent. That being said, the two of them still looked at me like I was hiding something.

'Hmph. You're avoiding the question, Coral Avalon,' Simon said. I'm really missing Inoue's constant insults, because this was *way* more agitating than whatever the hell Inoue always called me, 'Why are you in this... empire of failure we simply call Detroit?'

Well, let's try lying, 'I'm helping out with some training.'

'So much so that you'd leave the Circle for it?' Simon asked. It's true. I'd left the Squared Circle by this point, it was unfortunately eating into the time I could've spent with Annie and it wasn't like I'd left a high-paying gig or anything even if I *was* the Circle's highest-paid star at the time I departed, 'Somehow, I find that hard to believe, Mr. Wrestling Is An Artform.'

'You say that as though I should put on a beret and speak in a funny French accent.' I said.

'You're from New Orleans and you don't already have a funny French accent?' Connor asked. For the life of me, I think Connor had a brain-to-mouth filter that said all of the inappropriate things and filtered out all of the appropriate things. Simon, for his part, smacked Connor on the shoulder with the back of his nearest hand to get him to quiet down for a few seconds. Simon was a bit more mature than Connor, so in the absence of Miranda, he took over for her in keeping Connor in check.

Usually.

'We just think you're doing something suspect, and not telling us.' Simon said. Great, I'm being accused of something.

'I wasn't aware that you guys absolutely had to know what I was doing in my spare time. Seriously, I'm helping a couple of guys in this place with their game. You know how Phillip Kennedy added some non-lariat moves to his wrestling repertoire? That's all me.' I said. Okay, first of all, he STILL did almost nothing but lariats. Just like some other jerk I know. Second of all, I'm pretty sure that a guy like Phillip Kennedywouldn't want to waste his time with the advice of a guy like me. Third and most important, Phillip Kennedy and I have never even spoken before.

There's lying, and then there's bold-faced lying. Guess which one I just did?

The two men who called themselves the Princes of New England exchanged a glance. Chances were, they knew I was lying.

'Okay, but what do they still need you for that you'd have to come all this way?' Connor asked, turning back towards me.

Simon's head turned towards me as well, 'Yeah, it's not like training a lummox like that takes a concerted effort. You could put a hamburger on a fishing pole, sit on his back, and ride that horse off into the sunset.'

'Like Clint Eastwood.' went Connor.

'Or Gary Cooper.' went Simon.

'And maybe Cleavon Little.'

'Ah, but that was a limousine, not a horse.'

Damn hive mind.

'Look,' I interrupted, out of fear that they'd just keep going and leave me in the dust of their little conversation, 'Not that I don't mind interrupting your comedy act, but why do you really care what I'm doing here? In case you forgot, I asked you the same question. Why are you guys here? And where's Miranda?'

The two of them exchanged another glance, before Simon spoke up, 'Miranda's not here.'

'Said she had some business to attend to.' Connor added.

'Which is actually bothersome, mind you, since Miranda doesn't like to be more than ten feet away from her twin over here.' Simon added, jerking his thumb in the direction of his Irish counterpart. What the hell kind of business was so important that Miranda would let these two immature little jerks run loose, especially since they're such a living public relations nightmare if she's not around to corral them? There WAS a reason why they were released from their PRIME contracts six months earlier than intended.

'Well, we could use a break from her. She's such a buzzkill, man.' Connor said.

'Verily.' was Simon's response.

I swear to God, these two were going to be the death of me.

'And, clearly, you're just here to harass me.' I interjected. Honestly, it was obvious from the start, I just took until now to actually bring it up. They'd been dodging my questions since I started asking them, anyway, 'Which, by the way? I get enough of that from Inoue referring to me as a dumbass every other sentence. I probably don't need it from you guys.'

Simon had this smug look on his face that you just wanted to punch right off his face, and then burn so that he couldn't ever have that look on his face again. He looked like he just won the lottery by kicking somebody in the junk and then stole their winning lottery ticket, 'Let me guess. Sin City doesn't want you.'

'Excuse me?'

'Talented, though you may be, Coral Avalon... you lack something that would put you beyond the category of walk-on cameo. You lack a star's presence. You can't ever be anything but a bit player, on the outside looking in. You're here because you wanted Sin City Championship Wrestling to hire you, but once they realized that you don't have a personality, they just threw you out like yesterday's trash.' he said.

Okay, that stung.

Nevermind the fact that I was, in fact, wrestling for the company as we spoke. Sure, I was saddled with a gimmick I never wanted, never get the leeway to perform at the level of standards I held myself to, and I spent every waking moment making sure that this secret stayed between me and a few trustworthy people. But I could rest comfortably with the knowledge that Simon was wrong on this one. Still, I'd better act indignant so I don't give myself away.

'Yeah, because having a personality like yours works wonders for my career.' I replied. I hope that was indignant enough.

'Fuuuu. Maybe.' Simon said, brushing my comment off. It's like I do no damage to this guy at all, I swear to God.

'Cling to your hopeless ideals that wrestling is all you need, Coral Avalon...' Simon said, before he did this dramatic pause that felt so hammy that I almost wanted to strap one of those fake pig noses in Simon's face if only to get across just how hammy he was, '...and you'll just be a footnote in wrestling history. And no, I don't think you'll be a has-been. You could only dream of that. You'll be a never-was.'

How the hell did I consider this guy to be someone I'm on friendly terms with, again?

'So, you came all the way to Detroit just to tear me down.' I said. I gotta admit, I was pretty hot at this comment, though Simon Knox had to be the only guy with the temerity and the guts to go up to somebody and tell them that they wouldn't make it to their face. His brother wouldn't dare say anything like that to your face, he'd wait until he was sure you were out of earshot before he'd stay stuff like that about you. I guess that's about the one thing I can respect about what Simon was saying to me, even if he was a total prick. 'Why?'

'You surround yourself with people who either agree with you, or people who speak a whole other language than you to cushion the blow. You need a guy like me to be the asshole, to tell you what you're doing wrong. You're the guy who helped us out years ago, it's only fair that I help you in return.' Simon said.

'By being a jerk?' I asked, semi-rhetorically.

'By being a jerk.' Simon repeated, agreeing.

'You have this certain magic touch about your motivational methods, you know that?' I asked, sarcastically.

'I learned from the best.' Simon said, a joyless smirk on his face. He was not referring to me, but rather, he was most likely referring to his father, Earl Knox. After all, I did not teach Simon Knox how to be a total jerk to anyone and everyone he knew.

I hope.

'Are you done with the interrogation? I was planning to throw myself at the foot of the throne of Nigel Kensington and see if he'd throw me a bone.' I said with a sigh. That actually wasn't too far from the truth, my plan for today was to once again try and convince him to let me shed the mask and wrestle under my unusually real name.

'Hmph. Go right ahead.' Simon said, stepping aside. Connor soon followed suit, the two of them parting like the Red Sea to let me through. I stepped between the two of them and headed my way. Or at least, I would have had Simon not shouted after me, 'Oh, and Coral?'

At least he didn't bother saying my full name this time.

'What is it?' I asked.

'Try not to embarrass yourself.' he said.

'I'll try not to.' I said on my way out, but in the back of my mind, I already knew that it was one request that Simon was too late on.

After all, I was Baron von Blackberry.