The Prodigal Star Returns
The message that had Hunter fuming with irritation had come from Tiffany McMahon.
That's right.
I had decided to bring her in to put an end to this Kung-Fury script once and for all.
Tiffany, who was currently appearing on GCW's shows in person, would be more than up to the task.
We had been in constant contact for a while now, so we each knew exactly what the other was up to. GCW had secured its own broadcasting station and was cruising along with national coverage, and as it happened, Tiffany McMahon's heel GM storyline had just wrapped up.
So when I told her it was about time I started peeling off my mask, she'd responded with remarkable enthusiasm.
Burning Kong's first week of August 2004 was set to take place in Georgia.
Before that, Booker and I — both invited to the master script meeting — boarded a plane and landed at Atlanta's airport. The sweltering heat stirred up a strange wave of nostalgia, maybe because this place held so many good memories for me.
Even the air tastes sweet.
I hummed a little tune as I pulled my carrier along, and Booker, trailing behind me, struck up a conversation.
"Come to think of it, you got called up to the main roster while you were still with GCW, right?"
"Impressive memory, sir."
"...Don't treat me like an idiot."
"Haha, that was a joke. Though you do have one detail wrong."
"Wrong detail?"
"Yes. I wasn't just some ordinary wrestler — I was an Icon. I carried an entire era of GCW on my back."
"...PWAHAHAHAHA!"
Booker, who had been silent until then, suddenly burst out laughing. I looked up at him, dumbfounded.
"Ah, uh. Sorry about that. It just caught me so off guard for a second."
"......"
"I said I'm sorry. Stop looking at me like you want to kill me."
"The era I built exploded into Russell's era, didn't it?"
"Yeah, yeah."
Booker wore a bitter grin. He'd heard the plain truth and still couldn't bring himself to believe it. This old man — hopeless, really.
I had been GCW's revolutionary.
During the two years I was there, the company had grown at a remarkable pace. And even afterward, they'd kept thriving with Russell as the face of the show.
And all of it happened because I, as the heel, elevated Russell to superstardom.
Without that, GCW would have simply reverted to what it was the moment I left.
But GCW had now grown to the point where its show aired nationwide. And every bit of that was my doing.
"Anyway, Tiffany's waiting, so let's head out of the airport."
"Ah — the young miss came in person?"
"...You call her that too?"
"Ah, no. Everyone else does, so it just kind of stuck. Don't know why."
Booker answered, flustered, and the moment we stepped outside the airport, he went completely speechless.
And honestly, so was I.
"Wh-what is all this?!"
A crowd had gathered to welcome us. No — to welcome me, precisely.
"Sin! Over here! This way!"
"Ah, crying would be embarrassing."
I felt my nose prickle as I took in the sea of welcoming faces. It looked like every wrestler and staff member under GCW's banner had come out. Hundreds of people, some even holding handmade picket signs, cheering for me.
I spotted Russell standing at the center of it all and walked over.
"You been well, champ?"
"Of course. Kung-Fury."
"...You too, huh?"
"It's such a different look from your usual self, it's refreshing. You've bulked up more, too. Still looking sharp."
"Your complexion's way better too. Never thought I'd see you like this, though."
"Surprised you?"
"Honestly, I almost cried. Everyone still remembers me, I realized."
"Of course they do, you punk!"
That came from Bobby — a senior wrestler and fellow main eventer. After exchanging warm greetings with a handful of the wrestlers and the team-lead level staff, I shook hands with Harley as well.
"Welcome back."
"You've been well?"
"Tiffany McMahon has tripled my workload, if I'm being honest. But thanks to you, the work's been a joy."
"Glad to hear it. ...Ah, where is she right now? She said she'd come meet me, but she's nowhere to be seen."
"She's at a café nearby. The moment she laid eyes on us, she went pale and told us to call her when the meeting's over."
"And Baku...?"
"He's right back there."
At Harley's gesture, I turned around and found Baku mid-conversation with Booker.
"You listen good, boy. You lay a hand on that kid wrong, and that'll be the last thing you ever do."
"I-I got it, alright? Baku."
"And don't you dare complain about the booking either. Just trust that boy and follow him, and honey will pour into your mouth. Understood?"
Booker nodded meekly under Baku's intimidating glare. Chuckling at the sight, I walked over to Baku, who was fussing over me to an almost excessive degree.
"Baku."
"Oh, Sin! You little rascal! Not a single call since you got called up! I'm disappointed in you!"
"I'm sorry. Things were truly a madhouse, and even when I kept thinking I should reach out, it kept slipping my mind."
"You brat — you're in your prime, so I suppose it can't be helped! Get over here!"
"Ah, ow. Baku."
"That's what being happy to see you looks like! Kuahaha!"
Baku let out a booming laugh. Watching the two of us, Booker's face was a picture of pure confusion, as if he doubted his own eyes.
The senior who was endlessly strict with him doted on me like this — the shock was understandable, more or less.
But it didn't end there.
"Oh — wait, is that wrestler Sin?"
"He's back!"
Ordinary passersby who'd been sneaking glances at the commotion recognized me and came flooding in. In an instant, the wide airport entrance descended into complete chaos. Hundreds of staff and civilians alike were desperate to get a look at me.
"Sin, an autograph, please—!"
"Over here, please!"
"Team up with Russell again!"
"......"
I stopped thinking altogether. The surging crowd swept my GCW comrades away in the blink of an eye.
Booker, standing beside me, simply couldn't process the situation. No — after a moment, he reached his own conclusion.
"You really are an Icon!"
"Would I lie to you?!"
All of Georgia loved me.
The reaction was like that of fans watching an athlete born and raised in their own district playing for their hometown team. My soul having left my body, I scribbled autographs for the crowd at random, and all the while I was scanning for a way out of this chaos —
Vroooom—.
"...?"
A low, thick engine growl rumbled from somewhere close. Worried for a split second that it might be dangerous, I glanced that way.
A red Ferrari sat parked there. And behind the wheel, wearing sunglasses, was Tiffany McMahon.
HOOOOOOOONK!
A blaring horn followed. Startled, the crowd recoiled, and I seized on the thin gap that opened up and slipped through it.
"Booker! Over here!"
"Huh, what?!"
I flung my carrier into the back seat and hopped straight into the passenger side. Tiffany McMahon lowered her sunglasses just slightly and smiled.
"Must be exhausting. Being a superstar."
"It's not quite that bad..."
The moment I let out a sigh, Tiffany floored the Ferrari without warning. The powerful beast roared down the airport road at full throttle. I whipped my head around in shock toward Booker, left behind all alone.
"E-excuse me?! Tiffany! There's still one person who hasn't gotten in—!"
"Too late. You're the only one who needs to be at the meeting anyway — text him and tell him to find his own way."
"Haaah..."
I offered a moment of silent prayer for Booker, abandoned there like the corner slice of a loaf of bread. Later, when I asked what had become of him afterward, he told me no one paid him the slightest attention. Word had it someone gave him one look, muttered 'Tch, it's just Booker-Lee?' and walked off.
Thankfully, Tiffany's driving was far better than Baku's. She handled the wheel like someone who'd been professionally trained — her skill was nothing short of superb.
Once we'd escaped the airport and I'd regained some peace of mind, I asked her, feeling the wind rush past my ears.
"You drive really well."
"Do I? Seems pretty ordinary to me."
"That's not an ordinary college student's skill. Where'd you learn?"
"...I mostly played around doing this sort of thing when I was young, so it became second nature."
"This sort of thing?"
"Hunting, driving, horseback riding. My father raised me like a boy."
"Something about that is so Bart."
"Right? And the moment I turned sixteen, he made me work as a T-shirt girl. A truly bizarre father."
Come to think of it, Tiffany's first WWF appearance had indeed been promoting wrestlers' merchandise. I remembered her becoming popular through a script in which one T-shirt girl among many turned out to be Bart Maxen's daughter. Frankly, she'd been so far and away the most stunning of the T-shirt girls that most people assumed she was the daughter — though of course, no one had ever guessed she was the real daughter.
I mulled it over for a moment, then smiled and said,
"That must have been fun."
"...Excuse me?"
"Debuting at sixteen and carrying major storylines. Every single day must have felt like a grand fantasy adventure."
"Wow, seriously... I've told this story to countless people, and you're the first one to react like that."
"Why? Was it not?"
"No, I skipped school and it was an absolute blast. Plus, there was the perk of getting to look at the wrestlers' bodies."
"......"
"Oh, what! I have a type too, you know. Big muscle-bound pigs."
"Riiight..."
Thank goodness I'm not her type.
Anyway.
Breathing in the scent of a Georgia summer, I chatted with Tiffany about this and that on the way to the arena.
In my past life, who would have thought I could talk this freely with a woman who lived among the clouds?
It wasn't a bad feeling, though. The Tiffany I'd met in person was refreshingly straightforward and relentlessly hardworking. Ambitious, considerate toward me, and our goals didn't overlap — as partners, we were a perfect match.
And beyond that, simply having someone who dealt with me as an equal had become a great treasure to my heart. In my past life, I'd been an Asian man whom no one spared a second thought.
I wonder what Ebony is up to these days.
Maybe I'd give her a call once the show was over. This was my second hometown, after all, back after so long — staying a little while longer wouldn't hurt.
Just then, the arena slowly began to come into view in the distance.
Georgia International Stadium. A massive venue seating a full twenty thousand, so its silhouette was easy to pick out even from far away.
Tiffany, who had spotted it just as I had, spoke up.
"Think you can pull this off?"
"Don't worry. I've got the chairman's daughter wrapped around my finger, so it'll work out somehow."
"Haha, that's my line, isn't it?"
"Unless Bart's got some illegitimate kids written into the script, that's your line, yes."
Tiffany burst out laughing.
"PAHAHAHA! Wow, how does your brain even come up with jokes like that?"
Living through this a second time has made me funnier... though saying that feels a little pathetic.
Instead of answering, I just smiled. And with that, Tiffany, having laughed her fill, slammed hard on the accelerator.
The Ferrari surged forward with power to spare. Sitting in the passenger seat, I organized my thoughts one last time.
First, Tiffany would be appearing alternately on Burning Kong and GCW. The first goal: through her, reignite the image of Sin — the one that had faded over nearly half a year.
And second, through Tiffany's involvement, expose the identity of the power broker who had kept Sin locked inside the Kung-Fury gimmick.
The accompanying questions fell neatly into place as I worked through the script in my head. Why had Sin debuted as Kung-Fury and then sat idle for six whole months? Because Tiffany McMahon had been playing the heel authority figure in GCW all that time. But having just lost her power in a defeat to Russell, she'd taken a long look at herself and now appeared to help Sin.
If that story played out well, it could even set up an eventual program with Shina, who was growing on Rakedown right now.
A redemption arc.
At the same time, it would elevate GCW's brand value. In other words, we'd be building a team — just like everyone always talked about. A team strong enough not to bow to Hunter's Revolution, and built across both Burning Kong and Rakedown. Then we'd mix in established wrestlers like Booker and the rest of the roster to minimize any criticism or pushback that might arise.
Hunter will probably have to follow the script without so much as a squeak...
The only thing that worried me was the possibility that Bart — the man presiding over the meeting — would pull another unexpected move.
Then again, all I need from this side is the crossover script with GCW.
There was nothing to worry about, really.