Number Two

Number Two

Posted on January 20, 2023 at 11:48 pm by Steve Solex

December 18, 2022
Best Arena

A riotous crowd has surrounded Solex in the parking lot of the Best Arena, their anger and disappointment in the MERCDAD is palpable. These fans were here, tonight at ICONIC, to see Steve Solex and Joe Bergman win the HOTv Tag Team Championship, but Solex…he had other plans.

Solex stood in the middle of the chaos, grinning from ear to ear, relishing every second of it.

You piece of shit!

You fuckin’ sell out!

The fans try to get under his skin but Solex laughs right in each of their faces.

The crowd begins to hurl trash and debris at the former Highwayman as he attempts to muscle his way through the crowd.  He searches for his rental car, a sleek black Lincoln, but the mob of nerds has become uncontrollable and Solex has lost his sense of direction in the sea of seething bodies.

A hostile crowd of pissed off, drunken, wrestling fans is a tough challenge for anyone, even the American Alpha. 

He tries to force his way through the crowd as he ducks and dodges empty beer cups and crumpled tin foil when suddenly, a giant, slob of a man, like a melting hippopotamus, steps in front of him, blocking his path.

“YOU SUCK! YOU STUPID SON OF A…!”  The rotund individual bellows insults at Solex with unbridled rage, slobber shooting from his pie-hole as he shouts at the top of his lungs.

“Get the fuck out of my way, you fat fuck!” Solex shouts down the schlubby, morbidly obese, petulant, man-child and shoves him out of the way.  

The behemoth of a man tumbles backwards and crashes onto the asphalt, as Solex frantically scans the crowd for an escape. Just then, the piercing blare of an air horn slices through the night, causing the mob to fall silent and freeze in place.




The sickening sound of batons striking flesh and bone sends the crowd spiraling into chaos as Solex’s private security team, three ominous figures shrouded in masks begin to layi waste to any unruly member of the mob that crosses their path.


Another man is whacked upside the head with a baton, with swift precision. The man tips backward over and falls flat on his back. His head bounces off the cold asphalt, rendering him unconscious. The security detail surrounds Solex as a pool of blood begins to form beneath the back of the man’s head on the ground.

Solex looks down at the fallen fan and spits right in his face.

“Motherfucker,” Solex says with a half smile before turning his back on the man and marching in the opposite direction as his security detail stays close and directly behind him in a wedge formation, each of them with their batons at the ready.

Solex presses the button on a keyfob and the alarm of the black Lincoln chirps right in front of him. He swings the driver side door open as the security detail surrounds the car, pulling 360 degree security. Solex proudly smiles as he observes and supervises the detail using the tactical techniques that he taught them himself.

“Good shit, men!” He shouts out in approval as he steps into the rental car.

“Really? That was your plan?” A man from the passenger seat asks as Solex slams the car door shut.

The familiar voice sends a shiver down Solex’s spine.

He doesn’t look over.

He doesn’t need to.

It’s been five long years since he’s heard that voice, yet he could never forget it. It’s seared in his brain and etched into his memory. 

 Seconds that feel like minutes pass as tension fills the car as both men remain silent. 

Solex smirks, shakes his head and instead of responding he starts the car up, throws it into drive and pulls away, leaving the security detail behind.

“Alright, Number Two, keep it to yourself…but you and I both know…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Solex blurts out, interrupting the 60-something year old man to his right.

Slowly pulls the car to the right of the road, slams his foot down on the brake pedal and skids the luxury sedan to a stop up against the curb. He puts the car into park and looks over at the man.

“What? What is it? What the fuck did I do wrong this time, dad?” Solex angrily questions his…dad?

Solex’s dad smirks as his luxurious, platinum-gray mustache – impossibly fuller than Solex’s own – tilts to the right and catches the reflection of the street lights.  It glints beautifully like a constellation of stars in a clear, moonless night. The glorious mustache distracts Solex, but only momentarily before he shakes it off.

“What?!” Solex asks as his dad just stares back at him in silence.

“Don’t give me that look, old man!”


“Goddamnit! Bergman should have never trusted me. You know that, and everyone else knows it. How many times to I have to turn on that dumb fuck before he gets the hint? Fuck him, and fuck the Highwaymen. That shit was never going to last, I was just the first one of us with the balls to do anything about it!” Solex rants at his dad, his voice booming through the car.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Solex pesters his old man.

“Nothing,” his dad says, still smirking.

“What do you mean nothing?! I had to do it to them before they had the chance to do it to me. That was my fucking plan! And it was genius…pure fucking genius. It had nothing to do with any of those three. It had everything to do with ME! Number One, numero fucking uno! You get it?”

“Got it,” Dick replies, his volume low but tone serious.

Solex’s voice is full of suspicion and anger as he questions his father, “Then what do you want? Why are you here?” He might as well be shining a flashlight in his father’s face, the way he’s interrogating him.

His dad raises an eyebrow and responds, “I just came to watch you win the Tag Team Championship, but it’s pretty clear what actually happened out there, Steven.”

“What are you trying to say, you old fuck? That I hit Bergman on purpose? That I set Stevens up to get the win and retain the tag team titles? That I laid down and let JPD retain the LSD Championship? Huh?!”

His dad just stares at him silently.



“You’re fucking right I did!” Solex shouts. “And I’d do it again!”

“And now what?” Number One Senior asks.

Solex stares daggers at his old man as beads of sweat begin to form on his reddening forehead, and the vein next to his template begins to bulge out.

“Now what? You think I don’t have a fucking plan? You think I’m just pissin’ in the wind over here?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? I’ve got this shit under control, I’m nothing like you…you old sack of shit. I can handle my responsibilities and I can do it on my own. You got that?”

“I got it.”

“You’re a real piece of shit you know that. And I’m a chip off the old, motherfucking block ain’t I?”

Solex’s dad just smiles.

“Fuck off, you old bitch.”

Solex rights himself in his seat and fastens his seatbelt. He puts the car into drive and pulls off as the scene fades to black.

January 5th, 2023
Franklin, TN

“Here you go, Señor Dick,” a hispanic maid says in a thick accent as she pours coffee from a carafe into Solex’s dad’s…Dick’s…YETI mug.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says as she smiles and walks off.

“So, son…what’s the plan?” Dick asks his son before taking a sip of his freshly brewed coffee.

Solex stares gazes out at the beautifully kept acreage of his newly acquired Franklin ranch, a reward for his recently inked contract with High Octane Wrestling – the most lucrative contract he’s ever had in High Octane Wrestling, and he knew exactly what to do with this newfound wealth…the ranch was it.

Solex inhales deeply, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts before answering, “Well…Señor Dick…the plan starts with Bobinette Carey.”

Dick, startled by the response, leans forward in his chair, nearly causing his coffee to spill. 

“She’s the plan?” he asks incredulously.

Solex glances over at Dick with a wild look in his eyes. “You’re as dense as you are old,” he sneers. “No, she’s not the plan. She’s just the first step.”

“First step towards what?” the elder Solex probes.

“The LSD Championship, and that old man…that’s the real plan. The LSD Championship,” Solex declares with conviction.

“Is that so?” Dick ponders.

“It sure is,” Solex affirms with a sly grin. “Letting JPD retain at ICONIC wasn’t for no reason, it was for this reason. I want that THOT-loving, shit-brick in the ring one on fucking one and Bobinette Carey is the first of many to take a loss in the name of that.”

“What makes you so confident?”

“Well, for one…and maybe you didn’t hear me the first fucking time, but it’s motherfucking Bobinette ‘It’s never been about my skin color…well…not this time, anyway’ Carey. The purple haired trans-queen of woke-ed-ness in the HOW. The crumb-lipped, charlatan of the Golden Corral chocolate fountain. The bitchiest, beefcake, butch of the Las Vegas buffet line at 2am on $2.99 Prime Rib night.  Are you really asking me why I’m so confident? I’m so confident, because there’s no fucking way that I can lose…it’s fucking science,” Solex declares intensely.

“Science? What science?”

“What are you asking, you miserable old bitch? Of course it’s science. Call it toxic masculinity if you want or bro-science if you really want to reach, but men are stronger and tougher than women…it just is what it fucking is.  And pretending that it’s not is anti-science. But you can’t say that, you’re only anti-science if you disagree with people like Carey. Carey and the rest of the blue-haireds are the sole fucking reason this country is in the shape that it’s in right now.”

Dick stares at Solex, all of his attention focused on his one and only son.

“These are the motherfuckers that want to armchair quarterback our country right into the fucking ground, while men like me fight their battles for them. The one thing that they weren’t counting on…is that me…and the men like me, are done fighting their battles for them. The feeble body bitches are going to have to get off their asses and fight their own battles, from her on out. They want to indoctrinate our youth, defund our police, and wokeify our military…then they can fucking have it. They can have it all and they can defend it too. Cause me…and the men like me, we’re fucking sick of it.”

“You cis-gender male!” Dick mockingly shouts out.

“Yeah, what the fuck is that? For real? I never asked for a label, I’ve never been confused. I’m a fucking man…it doesn’t require some bullshit hyphenate in front of it…that’s what I was born as and that’s what the fuck I am. I piss standing up, like I was born to.  But who am I kidding? So does Bobinette Carey,” Solex says through laughter.

Dick bursts into laughter as well and the two raise each of their coffee mugs for a toast, clinking the two cups together.

“That’s good shit, son. But I’m not sure you’re understanding the gravity of the situation at hand,” the elder Solex states.

“And what’s that?”

Dick raises his arms out, showcasing the view in front of him.

“All of this. This ranch. This way of life. Lee Best has entrusted you to be his right hand man, and he’s paying you pretty fucking handsomely to get the job done. He wants you at his side, and it’s not the first time he’s asked this of you. You’ve been down this road before and you’ve squandered this opportunity in the past son…I just want you to do it right this time,” Dick says.

“Are you really gonna sit there and tell me how to do shit the right way? Motherfucker, you were locked up for half of my shitty fucking life,” Solex responds, dismissing his father’s advice.

“This isn’t about you, pop,” Solex continues. “This is about me…this is my fucking swan song. My last ride. This is the Final Alliance. This is 1998, and I’m Michael fucking Jordan ready to close out my career in Chicago. And right now, Bobinette Carey is the overhyped and basic AF Utah fucking Jazz about to get decimated, except instead of taking four games…this bitch is gonna be shown the exit after a count of three. And I got Lee Best like Phil Jackson in my ear telling me exactly how he wants me to get the job done.”

“One more question,” Dick requests.

“What’s that?” Solex asks

“Why Tennessee?”

“Why not?”

“Just seems a little odd for you to move from California to Tennessee, is all.”

“It’s the closest place to Chicago that hasn’t been swallowed up by the bullshit. Even Orange County was getting a little too purple for my taste,” Solex says with a laugh. 

Dick and Solex toast once more as the scene fades to black.

January 19th, 2023
Franklin, TN
Solex Residence – Basement Gym

“What the fuck is this?” Dick asked with a perplexed look.

His voice pierces through the thick, moist air of the mildew infested and cobweb ridden basement.

“This is my gym. This is our gym. Isn’t it great? It’s nasty, it’s dirty…it’s fucking perfect,” Solex quips with a smile.

“You mean to tell me that you spent allllllllllll of that money upstairs, but you skimped on the gym? You went cheap on the single most important area of your house? Is that what you’re fucking telling me?”

Solex just smiles and stares at his old man.

“Pop, this is the exact layout of the old gym. Down to the fucking millimeter.  That dusty, stained up wrestling ring over there? 19 ½ feet by 19 ¾ feet, just short of twenty-by-twenty…exactly like the one we had at the house when I was a kid.  That window over there,” he says, pointing to the window across the room. “It’s facing east…just like the one back home.”

Dick appears to be recalling everything as he surveys the room with his hands on top of his head.  

“I didn’t know you were so sentimental, Steven.  This is some good shit,” Solex’s dad says, proudly.

Dick continues scanning the room and suddenly stops, and stares oddly at a gigantic yard back in the center of the room.

“But, what the fuck is that?” He asks. “There a body in there?”

Solex laughs and walks over to the bag. He grabs a fistful of polyethylene. He grunts as he lifts a part of the bag up from the concrete floor.

“This is my Bobinette Carey wrestling buddy,” Solex declares with a smile.

“What?” His dad asks, fighting off laughter. “How much does that thing weigh?”

“Uhh…535 pounds. I think,” Solex says, looking perplexed.

“535 pounds?! What the…why so much?” 

“Uhh…cause that’s how much she weighs…”

“Steven, that can’t be right.”

Solex reaches into his back pocket and pulls a notecard out.

“I’ve got all her stats right fucking here, pop. 5 feet, 6 inches tall and 535 fucking pounds!”

Dick gives Solex a cross look.

“Give me that fuckin’ thing,” Dick demands as he rips the notecard from his hand.

He reads the notecard to himself, then looks at Solex, then back down at the notecard.

“You fuckin’….Steven, that’s a smudge. It’s 235 pounds.”

Solex looks at his old man like he’s crazy.

“Are you sure? You’re old as shit, I wouldn’t trust those eyes if I was you. Where’s your glasses anyway?”

Dick holds the notecard out in front of Solex’s face, pointing right to the smudge mark.

“Take the penis out of your fucking eye and look, asshole. 235 pounds!”

Solex snatches the card back from his old man.

“Oh, no shit,” he laughs.

He tosses the notecard behind him like Jay Leno reading the headlines and places his hands on his hips.

He shrugs his shoulders, laughs and says, “Well, you could’ve fooled me.”

Dick just stares at Solex in disgust.

“Are you being serious right now?” Dick asks, his voice stern and steady.

“What?” Solex asks, super confused.

“You can’t be seriously fat-shaming that poor woman. Not my son! Not in this day and age!” Dick shouts, waving a finger in Solex’s face.

Solex seems taken aback as he leans backward and stares at his dad awkwardly.

“This is 2023 and I did NOT raise my son to talk to women that way,” he says, seemingly upset.

“Are you…” Solex starts, looking around confused. “Am I…am I being punked? What the fuck is going on right now?”

Dick doesn’t waiver and continues his radical ranting, “Punked? What? This is 2023 and you will not fat-shame anymore, whether it be a male, female or…or any other gender for that matter.  Do you understand me?”

Solex is in total disbelief and looks around the room confused, unable to muster up a response.

“I think…I think I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. I’m confused…what the fuck is going on here?” Solex asks, legitimately confused.

Dick stares at his son for a few moments before he bursts out into laughter.

“Got ya!” Dick exclaims as he points a finger in Solex’s face.

Solex isn’t quick to understand the joke, but begins to nervously laugh before real laughter finally begins to take over.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” Solex says through laughter as he lightly punches his dad in the shoulder.

Dick doesn’t seem overly thrilled with the playful punch that his son just gave him.  He snarls and rubs his shoulder in the spot that Steve punched him, then retaliates with a harder punch to Steve’s shoulder. Solex stops laughing and looks at his own shoulder, reciprocating the snarl his dad gave him. Solex rubs his shoulder and looks at his old man.

“For real?” Solex wonders.

“For real,” Dick replies.

Solex points a finger in his dad’s face one more time and says,  “You better take it easy you old bitch. Before I feed your sorry ass to Bobinette Carey for Shark Week.”