My fists clench around two cold hard objects, one in each hand. Both cold and hard, but there the similarities end. These things are symbols, things that have a meaning to me. One, because it is being flooded with my thoughts and feelings, becoming part of me. The other, because it is me and it defines who I am. Can you guess what it is yet?

“Once upon a time, a little birdy taught me a trick.”

I hold both clasped hands out in front of me, held straight and steady before the camera. I try hard not to let it show how hard it is to keep them steady. The camera doesn’t seem to notice. It just keeps staring out at me, with the little red light stuck to my chest like a laser sight. I try to ignore the camera’s stare and talk to the people behind it, who won’t see me for days after this, but I am acutely aware of the camera’s gaze. I get the feeling that it wants me to mess up. The camera always loves mistakes.

“That birdy taught me a little charm to bring good luck. While before now I didn’t think I needed more luck, I guess you can never have too much of a good thing.”

I blink at the camera, losing the staring contest. I try to swallow my nerves, but instead just push them down into my right hand. I press my fists closed even tighter, not wanting any of the symbolism to seep out. I smile at this idea, the humour of it cracking through the nerves. My smile twists into a cocky grin and a wave of fun loving showmanship sweeps through me. I leap to my feet, doing a kind of pirouette in the air, throwing both objects into the air and plucking them out again before the camera can see them. That’s more like it.

“That birdy was Kash. And Kash was Money. When he was still here I considered him a friend, we had a few matches, and we shared a few games. Kash was the champion and one-on-one, he couldn’t beat me.”

The pain flashes back, but it is overwhelmed by the sheer thrill that I felt. The death defying plunge into gravity, the thud as two necks hit the ground. The pure joy that was risking my body for the chance of victory, the joy of gambling. It’s a joy I’m just beginning to get back.

“But I was stupid, I could have injured us both, and I couldn’t beat Kash either. But I enjoyed failing, I enjoyed falling. To me victory and failure didn’t matter, it was the gambling, the risk of battle, that I cared about. I was risking it all against the best there was. That’s all I want to do. But there are some things that stop me from doing that, things that drag me down side roads. Enigma. Wes Sanders. Se7en. Joe Keane. The Forsaken Souls. They made it personal, and that’s ok, it’s almost always personal. With Matt Keith it’s personal. But personal was all it was; I didn’t enjoy the thrill, the risk of losing, any more. All I cared about was revenge. Winning. I didn’t have fun and I didn’t win. When I have fun I can beat the best, Denrol, Enigma, Harley, Somers, even Jackson Kraven once. With help.”

But things were different, back then I was the rookie wonder, the hot young lion who came in and wowed fans and opponents alike. Now I have more experience that most of the roster, and I’ve been forgotten, the new stars don’t even know who I am. That has to change. I push those thoughts into my right hand too, and turn my palms upwards, hands open. In my left hand is my coin, silver and always sparkling, cool and tingly on my skin, as it always is. In my right hand a small black stone, warm from my hand, nondescript and unordinary.

“That’s why I’m doing this, because I need help. Kash is a Wiccan, and he taught me this charm. You take a small black stone and hold it tightly in your hand, and place all your negative feelings, everything that’s wrong with your life and push them down into the stone. Then you throw it away. It’s supposed to bring luck. Good luck, not the ambivalent good-and-bad luck that I have.”

I flick the stone up and catch it again, my hand poised to toss it away.

“Then there’s the coin. The symbol of my luck, the self I carry around with myself. The person Fortune made me. I could throw this away, try to be a normal person, I could be the bringer of light I was against Enigma. Or I could throw the stone away and accept who I’ve always been, the person I was baptised and confirmed in blood. My family’s blood. Both accidents that I shouldn’t have survived. Could I be my father’s son? My sister’s brother? Or do I throw away the stone and lose my concerns, be just a Soldier of Fortune?”

Casually I throw away the stone. Knowing it makes no difference, but I feel better for it. Happier for having done it. My grin splits my face wide open this time as I wink at my audience through the camera. The same cocky extravagance spilling out of me in waves. But down below that, I still hold the stone, the little black core of normal emotion, polite calm, family memories. I’m the same person I’ve always been. Now it’s time to have fun doing it.

“I want a title shot because that means I face the best, I risk myself, my self-respect, and the respect of others to win, to win big. To win Grunge’s title, Thorne’s title. Kash’s title.”

I flick my coin up and stick out my arm. The coin lands on my wrist and stays there. Balanced on my wrist. A small miracle that happens every time. I smile (not my twisted cocky grin, but a simple, normal smile), knowing that from now on, life will be fun again.

“I’ve had silver all my life. Now”

if it’s not too much trouble,

“I’d like some gold.”