"Twenty-one years, kid.... that's a mighty long time."

Fitz Callahan gazed out at the empty suburban street in front of him. During the day the quaint cul-de-sac was buzzing with activity, but at this time of night, even the children on their summer break from school were sound asleep. The windows in all of the houses were dark, save a random light here and there, and there was only a solitary street lamp at the far end of the road. Yet Callahan was staring so intently into the black oblivion that a neutral observer might have mistakenly believed something was out there lurking in the shadows.

"Twenty-one damn years..." he sighed.

Callahan was, of course, referring to the dubious early years of his pro wrestling career. A time of turmoil that was filled with bad decisions on a youthful Callahan's part and associations with unsavoury characters that only helped exacerbate matters. He was blacklisted in the mid-south region and universally shunned out west and had to flee to Japan to salvage what was left of his once promising career.

Moses van Leeuwen stood opposite the elder man, perched against a set of steps leading up to the front door of the house that belonged to Callahan's half-sister. Only too thrilled to learn that Fitz was back in the States, she had lent the place to them to use as a 'home base' of sorts while she was away for the season in Florida. Of course, the two men hadn't been at the house too much. They were too busy filling up their days with visits to the gym, contract signings, meetings with their new masters at the World Wrestling Alliance, and even a short stint of sightseeing that Callahan had promised Moses before they arrived in the country.

It was only earlier in the evening, some seven days after they had officially won a pair of contracts with the giant company that the duo were finally able to slow down and have a little celebration. They had stopped at a lovely restaurant, enjoyed a rather pricey but delicious meal that they could now thankfully afford to pay for, and toasted with a couple of glasses of champagne... or rather just half a glass for Callahan. He had explained to Moses that he had a problem earlier in his life and didn't want to even think about going down that road again. Moses didn't quite comprehend how one glass of sparkling wine could signal the beginning of an all-night drinking binge, but having never experienced what alcoholism was like, had to respect Callahan's decision.

Only now neither man could catch a wink of sleep. They had sat on the front porch together, in the gloom of a humid July night, and talked about their upcoming Fiesta debut match against Zachariel & Mascara Manchada Jr. Tactics was the main theme of the conversation for the better part of an hour, until suddenly Callahan switched gears and decided it was time to let Moses in on the minute details of his rather shady past in pro wrestling.

Moses quickly learned of the man's reputation back in South Africa when they had first met on that fateful independent show. Trekking across the globe together as a pair of 'have boots will travel' competitors also gave Moses the opportunity to pick up a tidbit here and there about Callahan's past, so the young man had a general idea of what his elder tag partner was all about. Yet in the last two hours Callahan had fearlessly bared his soul and exposed every dark secret he could remember about his history with the business. It was unnerving for Moses at first, and he genuinely wondered if it only took one half-glass of champagne to loosen all of Callahan's inhibitions these days. Then the other side of his brain countered with the thought that, perhaps they had reached the point in the sensei/apprentice relationship where Callahan was obliged to trust him with this knowledge.

"It'll be my first televised match back on U.S. soil in some twenty-one years. I never thought I'd be back.... never."

Moses hadn't spoke up in quite some time. He had to clear his throat. "So in your eyes, this opportunity in the WWA is your chance to put right some wrongs, yes?"

Callahan chewed on his lower lip for a moment before responding. "Something like that. Yeah." He paused, as if he was hesitant to say whatever was on his mind, but then went ahead with it anyway. "I've probably said it to you a million times by now... but this run in the WWA is likely my last chance at any kind of glory. And for you, kid -- not trying to get you down, but it could be your only chance at glory. You never know with the way this business works. I just... I don't want to leave anything on the table next Monday, you understand where I'm coming from?"

Moses nodded. "So... this match is our World Cup final."

Callahan turned to look at the young man. "Exactly, kid. Only this time headbutts are legal."

Finally, after hours of solemn gravity, there was a moment of levity between the two of them as they shared a laugh at Callahan's lame joke. Callahan gave Moses a little pat on the shoulder. "I'm gonna try and get some sleep. You should too."

"Yeah..." Moses trailed off as Callahan stepped inside the house. The young man slowly walked over to the spot where Callahan was standing a moment ago, many thoughts now swirling through his head. After being on the road for the better part of a year and traversing many different areas of the globe without even dwelling on it once, Moses inexplicably missed his family back home in South Africa. He was half a world away from everything that was familiar and safe. It was revolting and exciting to Moses at the same time, a new kind of emotion he had never experienced before.

It never occurred to Moses that he was now the one staring out intently into the black oblivion of the night.