NaNoWriMo Story Snippets

45. Excerpt from QUEENS OF THE UNDERGROUND

Not a requested story, but something that had been in the back of my mind for a while. I'm not entirely happy with it yet, so we'll see if it works out or not. Title is very tentative (from when I thought it was going a different direction). Quick summary: Seth is looking to banish some bad memories, and Aleister Black suggests a mysterious group called The Fathoms. When he arrives at the gathering, he runs into someone he doesn't expect to see.

As soon as Seth arrived at the arena, he could tell something was going on, but it was the look on Roman's face that made it painfully obvious. "You might want to call your mom and tell her to stay off social media today," Roman said, looping his ponytail around until it formed a bun. "Probably wouldn't be a bad idea for you to avoid it too."

Seth sighed. Social media had never been his forte. When he was a face, people accused him of being too earnest, too sensitive; when he was a heel, they said he was too whiny. He tried studying the approaches of fellow wrestlers who were great at social media engagement—Becky Lynch, Kevin Owens, Bayley—but he never seemed to be able to apply what he learned in his work. "What now?" he grumbled, falling into step with his Shield brother. Seth was posting the bare minimum on Twitter these days, mostly just linking to interviews or promoting Black & Brave; on Instagram, he usually just posted shots from his matches.

Roman's mouth puckered as if he had just eaten a very sour lemon. "Your nudes are making the rounds again. Sorry, man. I don't know what sparked the resurgence, but they are." Clearing his throat, he added, "Galina let me know. Apparently JoJo was scrolling through her feed and—"

"Shit." Seth shut his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead so he wouldn't be tempted to punch the wall. "I'm so sorry, Roman."

"Galina doesn't think she saw anything," Roman replied quickly. "She figured out what it was pretty quick and took the phone from JoJo before she could get any further."

Shaking his head in dismay, Seth started to pace. "Doesn't mean someone at school won't show her. They know you're her dad. They know we're friends." Concerns like that hadn't even been considerations back when he had taken the photos or shared them, but the past loved to come back to haunt him. "Fuck. That was years ago," Seth swore. "I knew the pictures were still out there, but why now?"

Roman gave his Shield brother a half-hug and gripped his shoulder. "Wish I knew, man. Petty people with nothing better to do than make trouble for someone else? I don't know. I don't see what they get out of it, but... I just wanted to let you know. I thought it was better if it came from me than some fan's sign in the audience."

"Oh shit." Seth glanced over at Gorilla and swore again. The security screeners were generally pretty good about weeding out controversial signs, but fans could still sneak in markers and make new signs in the blink of an eye. "Thanks for letting me know. At least my match is near the top of the show. Maybe Vince will want me to take off early so I'm not a distraction." Normally he loved hanging around after his matches to see all the other bouts and to catch up with friends, but his good mood had evaporated. "Thank Galina for me, will you?" Seth was an honorary uncle to Roman's kids and he didn't want to jeopardize that.

"Of course." Roman gave Seth's shoulder a friendly shake before stepping back. "Just do your best to put it out of your head," he advised. "Easier said than done, I know, but focus on the match."

"I'll try." As Seth pushed the locker room door open, he dreaded the reactions. Would it be pointed silence? Barely muffled chuckles? Pointed comments made under someone's breath? To his surprise, only Aleister was in the locker room, lacing up his boots. "Hey."

"Hey." As he straightened up, Aleister rolled his neck from side to side. "Sorry to hear about what's going on."

"Thanks. No one to blame but myself, I guess," Seth remarked, finding his locker space and hanging up his jacket.

"No." The surety in Aleister's voice made Seth turn. "Yes, you took the photos—or let someone take them. But you weren't the one who put them online."

It was a technicality and it was the truth, but it didn't make the aftermath any easier to bear. "Thanks. I just wish I could forget it ever happened so it would stop bothering me," Seth replied, pulling his ring gear out of his bag, "but that'll never happen."

"Have you tried the Fathoms?"

Seth was sure he had misheard, but when he turned around, Aleister looked completely serious. After taking a quick glance at the shirt Aleister was wearing, Seth asked, "Is that a band or something?" He didn't fully understand everything Aleister and Zelina were into, but he knew Aleister's taste in music was eclectic and far-reaching.

Aleister shook his head. "No. It's a collective. They—hold on." Then he grabbed his bag and pulled out a folded flyer that reminded Seth of the indie wrestling ads he used to post around town when he was training. "There's one at the Armory tonight," Aleister added. "You should go. Someone may be able to help you there."

Looking down at the flyer, Seth realized he recognized the address. It was one of the first places he had wrestled on the independents, with a lower level that was only accessible by a narrow winding staircase. Judging from the picture on the ad, the building hadn't been updated since then. "Been a while since I was in an old armory," Seth remarked, starting to hand the flyer back. But Aleister shook his head and stepped back. "What is it? What do these Fathoms do?"

"Just go," Aleister advised. "Be honest about why you're there and what you want. I'm sure you'll find some solace there." Then he closed up his bag and headed out into the corridor.