I pulled the car up to the average looking house Ethan pointed to. He got out of the passenger seat, as Sadie stepped out of the back seat. Even as I got out I was shaking my head at the seating arrangements. Apparently getting a girl pregnant isn't a good enough reason for someone other than Ethan to sit wherever he damn well pleased.

At the same time, I reflected as I shut the door, did I really expect anything less?

'What's this?' Sadie stared at the house as she stepped onto the front lawn. Ethan waved his arms expansively, as wide a gesture as he could manage with his neck brace in its usual place on him.

'This is yours now, if you want it.'

I did a slight double-take, glad that neither Ethan nor Sadie were actually looking at me at that moment. A house for Sadie? In Warwick? But...eh, the questions swirled rapidly to and from the forefront of my mind, but I finally let them settle, making mental notes to ask Ethan, but letting him explain at the moment.

'The house?'

'Yes.' Ethan nodded. 'It's comes with all of the basic essentials, kitchen is all set up, basic bed, appliances and such. Just let me know what you need other than what's already here, and we can go pick it up another time.

'You...you want me to live here?!' Something told me that I wasn't the only one he hadn't cleared his plans with. A part of me actually respected him slightly for that; it wouldn't really take anything to keep a bunch of folks who've disowned him in the dark, but to keep me unaware? Impressive.

'Everyone says that I need to start taking responsibility, so here goes. I know it's far from your friends and family, but with the internet these days, what's distance, anyway?' As he spoke those words, I could tell something came to mind for him. It didn't take rocket science to figure out what disturbed him, either. Nevertheless, he continued. 'I figure you can go to school, or take classes online if you want, find a part time job, whatever. But your room and board is on my tab. All utilities included.'

'You aren't renting this? Did you actually buy this for me?' It seemed like everything was coming together way too fast for Sadie's tastes, but all the while it was easy to see that his offer had pretty much blown her away.

'I'm Ethan Dashery, baby. I can do anything.'

I snorted silently to myself. Right, Ethan. You can't afford to keep your help around other than me, and even then only because I'm at your father's expense. Your career hangs by a thread thanks to your tattered excuse for neck muscles. Yet somehow, you went out and bought a house.

I sighed, again only to myself. Certainly he had accounts of his own stashed away, I thought. He didn't seem of the fiscal acumen to actually have the kind of money wisely stashed away to do something like this, though. And he'd have needed cash for it all, because there's no way he was sneaking any kind of morgage or other payment plan paperwork past me. I was already impressed by this much, but I wasn't a fool at my job, either.

Ignorance was bliss, however, as Sadie threw an arm happily around Ethan, before hopping up the sidewalk and onto the porch. He lobbed a set of keys to her there, before turning around completely to face me, as he still couldn't turn his neck very well.

'Any comments, George?'

'How did you buy this house, sir?' I whispered, waving to Sadie, who unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

'I have my ways. My name still pulls some weight, no matter where in the world I am.'

'I just...well, sir, I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into with her living nearby.'

'I have every idea, George. As a matter of fact, I'll likely be helping her set things up for the next day or so, why don't you take off for a few? Visit your girlfriend or wife, whatever she is.'

'Helen.'

He nodded as best as he could. 'Yeah, her.'

The thought was all sorts of tempting, but after seeing the depths to which Ethan had fallen recently, I couldn't in all honesty take him up on that offer. His family would kill me. Or at least fire me. But having seen how they've disowned people, I didn't put murder off their radar, not at all.

'No, sir. With your injury, I can't justify being away for any length of time.' The words tasted as bitter as they sounded honorable.

'Let me rephrase it. Take a few days off, George.' His words grew a bit of an edge to them.

'Sir...I can't do that. Not at this time.' As soon as the words came out of my mouth, the civility was gone, replaced with a whispered snarl.

'What, because you're afraid of the Nazis in my family? They won't let you have a day off? Or are you just afraid to ask? Call them, George, call them right now and tell them I said to get lost for a few days.' He got right in my face, gesturing with a pointed finger almost against my nose. I steadied my shoulders, ready to face down the punk...when I exhaled heavily, and pulled my phone from my pocket. This was hardly a defeat. I would possibly get a few days away from him, and if his family approved, it wouldn't be my fault at all if he overdosed or somehow broke his neck. The phone began ringing, and was picked up quickly.

'Hello?'

'Sir, it's George Stapleton. Ethan's right here, he's told me to take two days off, to go to Idaho.'

'He doesn't know what's best for him, George, as always.'

'I told him that, more or less, sir. He insists, and told me to call you regarding this.' Ethan smirked, as I shrugged in his direction. There was silence for a moment on the other line, before a loud sigh of frustration.

'George, there's no helping the unwilling. Take your leave, and enjoy it. There's plenty of time to straighten that fool out.'

'I...what? Sir, are you certain?'

'Go ahead. Keep in touch, George.' With that, the call ended. I was left closing my phone with my mouth agape, as Ethan still smirked, apparently more satisfied than ever.

'See, those fools are still waiting for me to see the light. They don't want to be seen as the oppositional cockroaches that they are. But we know better. So go, George, as soon as we get back to the estate.'

I couldn't help but shake my head. While I looked forward immensely to going home, I still felt quite pensive about leaving Ethan to his own devices. He was a man-child, truly in need of someone there to bail him out and occasionally steer him in the right direction, since his moral compass either broke a long time ago, or this model of blue-blood just didn't come with one, straight from the factory.

'As you wish, sir.' Ultimately, I shook away my misgivings. Ethan was a grown man, he should sink or swim on his own accord.

Our conversation was interrupted by Sadie, bursting back out the front door of the house. Ethan swivelled around to face her. 'What do you think?'

'It's amazing, Ethan! Will you be staying here as well, with me?' There was some kind of crazy optimism in that statement, but I kept silent on it. Ethan had already surprised by taking some initiative on this Rortry 'problem,' so perhaps he'd turned a new leaf?

'No, I'll be staying at my estate, Sadie.'

'So...what does this mean for us?' Again, that touching note of optimism. I already knew how this was going.

'You're going to be Sadie Rortry, living here in Warwick, and I'll be Ethan Dashery, living a short ways away, helping you out. There isn't an us, you know how things are.'

Ah, Ethan being Ethan. Stay classy, New England.

His eyelids cracked open painfully and slowly, as the features of the room became visible to him. It had to be the wee hours of the morning, Ethan thought, from his own hazy aching. He shifted slowly in the bed, confirming by the clock that it was twenty five or six to four. That slight movement, however, also made him realize why he was awake. His neck throbbed terribly, dulling every thought he had down to a simple directive: His pills. He needed them now.

Reaching over to his nightstand, he swiped aimlessly, minimizing the movement of his torso, head, and neck. The offending clock found its way to the floor of the room without a care, and then a magazine joined it. Finally, his fingers wrapped comfortingly around the small plastic bottle on the nightstand. He shifted, yanking them above him...only to find no sound coming from the bottle. In the dark, he muttered a thousand curses, shaking the bottle profusely, but surely enough, when opened, there was nothing inside.

His frustration build to a frenzy, as he fired the bottle across the room, hearing it clatter against the far way somewhere in the darkness of the very early morning. He fought the feeling away, knowing that it would do nothing for the stabbing pain of his neck muscles, and he had several more bottles of pills in the drawer of the nightstand. He twisted in that direction, groaning miserably, as he felt for the knob of the drawer on the front of the nightstand. He finally grasped it, and pulled it partially out, shifting some of his weight onto it, to keep from moving his neck.

Suddenly, the drawer fell out of the stand completely, crashing with all of its contents onto the floor beside the bed. With his weight leaning on it, Ethan fell to the side as well, tumbling off of the bed. His head smacked hard against the nightstand, and he crashed atop the upturned drawer with his upper torso and the back of his head taking the brunt of the fall.

Though the nearest houses were a good distance away, thanks to the yard of Ethan's estate, lights could be seen coming on in the neighborhood from the pained animalistic howls that came from his estate for a few minutes. Outside the room, no one could hear, in between the venting cries, the gasping, stuttering words put together by Ethan Dashery as he crawled on the floor in agony, finally wrapping a hand around a pill bottle that mercifully shook with full contents.

'George...George! Damn it...George!'

The camera came to life early, exposing an empty scene. Only soft grunts of pain could be heard, as Ethan suddenly appeared from the side of the picture, stepping into the center of the scene. His clothes were pretty standard, jeans and a custom Dashery 'Better Than You' tee shirt. The clearest detail of the scene was the neck brace around Ethan's neck and how stiffly he walked, his posture very rigid. His features were blank, focused, but not particularly on the camera. By his face alone, he was barely recognizable. He raised a finger, pointing at the camera.

'Corey Ashton, I know nothing about you. I confess my ignorance, I haven't the time to research you, to scout you, to know a bloody thing about you. Perhaps you've done better, and are coming in to this match ready to break me in half, most likely at the neck.'

His expression remained unchanged, only his eyes moving, as they flicked defiantly toward the camera for a moment, before he reverted to looking past the camera, or so it seemed with his expression.

'I say, get in line. I've taken the mightiest holds of the technicians, the fiercest blows of the brawlers, and the most amazing high risk attacks from fellow aerial wrestlers. My neck is at 10%, Ashton. No one has broken me yet, so I say take your best shot! Everyone talks about my tactics, my underhanded wins, as if that cancels them out, somehow. The bottom line is, Ashton, that moreso than anyone else in NLW right now, when I'm in the ring, I win. Period.'

He lowers his hand, moving it to tap lightly against his neck brace, wincing obviously even as he does as little as that.

'So I'm telling you, do your worst. It hasn't stopped me yet. Try and break me off at the shoulders. Come on. I'm going to come into the match so high on the adrenaline that comes from the chance to destroy another man's hopes and dreams, that NOTHING you can do will stop me. Nothing.'

He tucks his hands against his hips, his expression still the same.

'In two months time, perhaps they'll only get me to the ring with duct tape and the World Title belt strapped around my neck, holding it into place. But damn it, it will be the World Title, and I'll do it stepping over the likes of Nick James and Okuma before I get to Josh Allen again. You, Ashton? You don't even rate. I shouldn't even have to say it, because I'll prove it shortly...that I'm simply better than you.