The Perfect Betrayal
And so, over the course of that week, GCW hammered out the direction and rough framework of a script with Sin at its center.
It was a massive storyline that would build all the way to Russell's return. Until then, Sin would reign as the villainous champion.
Which meant, naturally, that the first step was for Sin to betray Russell and turn heel.
The GCW weekly show.
With 1,873 fans in attendance, I sat in the locker room among the other wrestlers, waiting my turn.
It hadn't been like this before, but now—perhaps because of my influence—every wrestler on the roster watched the show from the locker room.
Honestly, monitoring your own work was just basic professionalism.
I watched the live crowd reactions pouring in, checking each one against my predictions to see if I'd read things right.
First, point one.
The moment the show started, a pre-produced video package announced that Russell had been injured.
"Terrible news tonight, folks. Due to an injury to Russell Hart, the Tag Team Champions will be vacating the belts here tonight."
"A genuinely sad state of affairs. To think it ends like this for those two."
"Oh, come on, don't talk like that! Once Russell recovers, those two will reunite—mark my words!"
That was the foreshadowing we laid down.
The championship relinquishment ceremony for Russell and my tag titles was tonight's main event.
The promotion ran continuously throughout the two-hour show. GCW was clearly determined to squeeze every last point of ratings out of the night of Sin's heel turn.
The other wrestlers, too, each seemed to be looking forward to the breakup of the tag team that had anchored the show's center.
Someone gripped my shoulder tightly, and when I turned, Bobby was standing there.
"Finally, it's your turn."
"Yes, senpai."
"Go kill it out there. And if you end up feuding with me later, put in a good word."
"If it's you, senpai, I'll be the one getting carried."
"As if."
Bobby flashed a grin.
The others didn't hold back their encouragement either, all telling me to do my best. And in that moment, the weight of what was happening hit me anew.
Main eventer.
The face of the promotion. Its greatest performer.
The throne I had only ever gazed up at from below—I would now be the one sitting on it.
It was a seat I had earned through sheer ability, and the pride swelling in my chest reflected that.
GCW's shows would now revolve around my existence. It meant nights like tonight would keep coming.
When the announcement came that our relinquishment ceremony was about to begin, the crowd let out a massive roar.
Time to head out.
Just as I stood up with that thought, the locker room door swung open and a staffer wearing a headset stepped inside.
"Sin! You're up—get ready!"
"On my way."
Respect was written plainly in the staffer's eyes. I moved with him toward Gorilla Position.
"Sin, show 'em something special."
"Go get 'em!"
"We're counting on you!"
The moment they spotted me, everyone showered me with encouragement without exception.
So this is what it means to be the main eventer who closes the show.
I had headlined a handful of times before, but always alongside Russell.
Now I would be alone.
Or rather, that was how it was about to be.
With that thought, I arrived at Gorilla Position—and there, standing among the equipment, were Russell and Baku.
I bumped fists with Russell.
The surgery had gone smoothly, and he'd had no trouble getting a pass to leave the hospital.
"Sin."
"Ready?"
"Go show them your true colors."
Buoyed by Baku's encouragement, we made our entrance and climbed into the ring as our music hit.
* * *
The ovation was deafening.
"Sin-sell! Sin-sell! Sin-sell! Sin-sell! Sin-sell! Sin-sell!"
The crowd chanted our names, sparing no effort in their support. Harley, who had stepped up onto the stage, laughed.
The moment he raised the microphone, the crowd fell silent in an instant.
It was their own form of tribute to a legendary professional wrestler.
"What a crowd you are tonight."
Even a single short line carried weight and charisma in equal measure. The fans roared back at us.
Russell responded to the support by waving his uninjured arm—doing his best triangle-gun pose with just the one.
The crowd's cheer grew even louder, wishing him well in his recovery. Russell bit his lip and played the moment for all it was worth, eyes glistening with regret.
Of course, it was genuine, which made the performance that much easier.
It was the disappointment of being injured. But beside him, I stood in silence, staring down at the championship belt.
The sharper fans in the audience must have started sensing that something was off.
Still, Harley's brisk pacing kept it at the level of mere suspicion.
"Russell, Sin. Through more than ten title defenses, your partnership has been loved by people everywhere."
"We love you! We love you! We love you! We love you!"
"And the people agree. If it weren't for this twist of fate, your duo might have lasted forever."
Harley stepped close and placed a hand on Russell's shoulder.
"It's going to be a rough road, kid. But I believe you'll get through it."
Russell nodded.
"Anything you'd like to say?"
Taking the microphone, Russell began to speak with everything he had.
Thanking the fans and his family, he was a certified babyface through and through.
Nobody listened halfheartedly. Everyone knew how hard he had worked, and they empathized with Russell deeply.
We had feuded with other teams and told countless stories along the way. What our goals were. Who we were. We had kept proclaiming those truths over and over.
And at last, we had become the tag team that received unprecedented love as rookies—the engine driving GCW's staggering growth.
"...There's a friend who helped me get to where I am today."
Russell turned to look at me.
The crowd sent up a cheer.
As if trying to wipe away the faint tremor of unease hanging in the air.
"Sin! Sin! Sin! Sin! Sin! Sin! Sin! Sin! Sin! Sin! Sin! Sin!"
Taking off the sunglasses I'd been wearing, I handed the belt to Harley.
Then I extended my hand to Russell for a handshake. Russell smiled and handed his belt over as well.
The moment we clasped hands, the crowd's roar swelled to its peak.
The arena shook as countless fans who had followed our story from the beginning clapped with everything they had.
Which meant there would never be a moment like this again.
Without a flicker of hesitation, I slapped Russell's hand away and drilled a punch straight into his face.
CRACK!
A scream of sheer disbelief erupted from the stands.
Russell, caught flush by my fist, staggered backward and dropped to one knee.
Russell Hart was genuinely injured right now. Which was why I'd moved with every bit of care I could muster.
Even so, the impact was devastating.
"..................."
Silence.
The crowd couldn't manage a single word.
Nearly two thousand fans went utterly dumbstruck in an instant.
Feeling that stillness wash over me, I hid the goosebumps rippling across my whole body and turned my back on the ring.
Perfect!
I rejoiced inwardly.
A flawless heel turn. Every single one of those thousands of fans had been swallowed whole by the shock. Even Harley.
What had stunned him was that single action of mine—one motion that seized the entire arena in an instant.
He stared at me blankly, as if witnessing something that had never once happened before.
I walked slowly back down the aisle.
When I slid the sunglasses back on, a low murmur began to ripple through the crowd. They couldn't believe what they'd seen—they couldn't even summon a proper boo.
"Why?! Sin! Why did you do it?!"
"Russell was your friend!"
Fans near the entrance ramp screamed at me, still reeling from the shock.
But I walked the ramp in total, cutting indifference, ignoring every single reaction, and returned to Gorilla Position.
All of it had been flawless acting.
I had plunged the audience into shock. Everyone who watched my actions had been sucked so deep into the story they'd lost their souls to it.
And so, inside—
"...Whew."
Exhaling the breath I'd been holding, I felt the eyes of every single staffer in Gorilla Position land on me, and smiled.
"So? How was it?"
"...I've been in this business a long time, and I've never seen anything like that."
"Even when Captain Logan turned heel, the reaction wasn't half this big."
"This could spiral into real trouble if we're not careful, you know?"
A few of the staff worried about the fans who had gotten a little too immersed.
I immediately checked the outside feed on the monitoring TV.
"Oh, man. This is rough. I never thought Sin would choose to cast aside his injured partner."
"Look at Russell in the ring, ladies and gentlemen. He's completely hollowed out!"
"The team loved by all is over, just like that!"
The camera cut to the crowd as the commentators called it.
Young boys wept. People in shock clutched their heads.
Then, one final shot of Russell standing empty-eyed in the ring.
And with the GCW logo, the weekly broadcast came to an end.
Harley read the sour mood in the arena and hurried Russell backstage.
"Baku, get a dark match out there, now."
Harley's orders came fast, rare panic written across his face. He seemed to want to run a filler dark match to reset the atmosphere before it curdled.
In the meantime, I talked with Russell.
"You alright?"
"You could've hit me a little harder, you know."
"You don't say that to a patient."
"I'm not worried about me—I'm worried about you. One wrong move and you're catching a bullet in the parking lot on your way out tonight."
"...Well, hey, if that happens, I'd become a legend in a way, wouldn't I?"
I gave a twisted laugh and decided I'd better wait around a while before heading home.
After all, dying to the bullet of a fan who'd gotten way too invested was not on my bucket list.
* * *
The reaction went without saying.
News of my heel turn had set the internet and every media outlet ablaze.
Naturally, the newsletters covering professional wrestling with real expertise wasted no time weighing in.
By the time I'd heard that much of the radio, I couldn't help laughing out loud.
At which point Russell switched it off. I turned to look at him for a moment.
"Why'd you turn it off? It was getting good."
"Focus on what's in front of you."
"There. All done."
Cena came back carrying something.
Chicken breast salad.
Regrettably, the three of us—being consummate professionals—had to eat this kind of food even on a night like this.
Well, in Cena's case it seemed less about discipline and more that he just liked muscles.
Anyway, the three of us gathered around the room and started our farewell party.
With me as champion, Cena would be joining the main show as a member of the Wyatt Family.
And Russell's rehabilitation would take place at the 'Hart Dungeon' in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
In other words, the three of us—who had been thick as thieves this whole time—were about to be separated for a good while.
Sometimes you need moments like this for a better future.
So I decided to spend tonight cementing our disgusting friendship.
The kind of disgusting friendship where you hold each other's bodies up, then slam them right back down.
"Alright, alright! For tonight, I even bought us some healthy vitamin drinks. bottoms up, boys."
The man who would one day be called the greatest in WWF history—Shawn Cena.
"Ugh, I never liked that stuff. Just give me water and cut me some slack."
Russell Hart—brimming with talent, yet doomed to an unlucky career buried by politics.
Climbing to the top alongside these two, I had a feeling there was nothing I couldn't do.
I still had a few cards left in my hand, and if I played them right, I could succeed on the WWF main stage too.
"Cena. Don't choke on the main show. Just do exactly what you learned here."
"...And what exactly did I learn?"
"Professional wrestling."
Truthfully, Cena still fell on the stiff side of the ledger.
But he filled the gaps in his technique with sheer individuality.
Overwhelming strength nobody could match. Mic-work brimming with instinct.
There was nothing to worry about.
"And Russell—good luck with the rehab."
"I'll be counting on you when I'm back, Sin."
We clinked our glasses lightly, and drank... our vitamin drinks, I mean, pretending it was booze. God, it tasted like garbage.
It tasted exactly like what it was: a 'disgusting friendship' with these two.
Russell suddenly launched into talk about women, and I snickered into my glass.
And when he abruptly brought up Ebony, I'll admit—that one threw me for a second.