Post by nedkaye on Oct 22, 2023 3:57:59 GMT
Helical Scan
Pt. 2
Endlessly Searching
The overwhelming aroma of flora had assaulted Nathaniel's senses since they had first arrived in the forest. Perhaps it was having not had the desire to camp for what felt like a decade or the fact that his hands had finally gotten over the callouses he was beginning to acquire at Ned's gym, but getting a tent and spending an evening or two in the woods was low on his concepts of “fun.” Still, it was what Ned asked of him and, he figured, it was worth keeping an eye on him as of late. Nate sighed, his knees sunk into the forest floor, placing a small circle of stones after cautiously clearing a spot for a campfire. The dirt pressed to his knees left two spots on his jeans, moist from being well hidden underneath the tall, spiry trees, branches reaching out to each other, twigs like hands interwoven above. Nate still wasn't sure why his brother insisted on something, but he wasn't about to turn his back on Ned after the past few months he'd endured.
Nate hadn't been a sibling he would ever want for many periods of his life. He felt he owed it to himself to at least try.
The cracking and creaking of the debris and leaves peppering the undergrowth played Ned in as he returned to the campsite, arms full of firewood. Nate suspected that Ned’s affinity for forests was an extension of his love for New York. Something about being surrounded by monoliths of a different sort bringing some level of comfort, but it wasn’t a topic Nate ever insisted on pressing. Ned dropped the firewood onto the ground, grabbing a few chunks and tossing them into the makeshift pit Nate was struggling his way through constructing.
“If you’d like,” Ned offered, kneeling next to his brother as the finishing touches on the pit were made, “I can start the fire while you set the tents up.”
Nate’s head pivoted upwards, as if the simple notion that he couldn’t start a fire was as condescending as being asked if he needed assistance in reading Dr. Suess.
“That won’t be necessary,” Nate responded, rolling his eyes a little, “I didn’t deal with several years in the boy scouts to have my little brother pull out a lighter and wimp his way through it.”
“If your ego is so reliant on setting two twigs on fire, I think you’ve got bigger problems than wasted time in the boy scouts,” Ned replied, shrugging his shoulders as he went to set up the tents, grabbing an item out of a bag prior to locating any of the tent equipment.
“It is and I do!” Nate declared defiantly, beginning to craft a tender nest while watching Ned set up a tripod and an old VHS handheld camera placed atop it. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the calm majesty of the forest, a splinter of metal, slashing the wood around it like the fine blade of an axe. He always felt the need to do something it seemed. Ned could never just have a good time and accept it for what it was. There was always a camera that needed to be pointed at him. A pair of eyes watching for that next moment. As much as Nate had been jealous of Ned during their younger years, when Ned easily gained their father’s approval, he could only help but feel a bit sad for the younger man. He had given everything to be seen on TV alongside those he admired. And succeeded.
Ned finished setting up the camera before making quick work of the tents. There was a grace to the way he handled the equipment, a careful ability to inspect and adapt without missing a beat. Some people referred to that as “the true Ned Kaye.” The man who could analyze and break down any subject matter with little more than a careful glare. There was no grace or analysis in the movement of Nathaniel’s hands however. He spun the stick in his hand quickly as it ground the leaves in-between itself and the larger piece of wood below into dust. Smoke should have already come off, yet the stick just spun there, softly tearing his hands up and mocking him as it scratched his flesh. His face didn’t disguise the emotion at all, a fact confirmed by Ned coming over to help after the tents were finished.
“Nate,” he said a little sternly, “you really can just let me handle this-”
“No!” The elder brother’s speed increased, his tone utterly unwilling to relent as the slightest bit of gray rose from the log underneath, “I can do this just fine! It’s almost perfect!”
“Nate, I’m serious-!”
“So am I!” Nate furiously spun the stick faster, finally producing a small flame that quickly grew into a respectable, little campfire.
“Aha!” He said, standing up quickly, noticing Ned’s panicked expression only slightly after a growing warmth on the left side of his body. At some point, the left sleeve of his jacket had just barely grazed the flame.
That would have been frustrating, though manageable, if the fabric was not actively on fire by the time Nathaniel noticed it. After a brief rendezvous with the dirt and some assistance from Ned with the fire blanket, Nate thankfully only had to deal with his hands, bloodied and burnt from friction. He exhaled frustratedly as Ned bandaged his hands, wrapping around his palms with a face that didn’t scream exuberance either.
“I don’t know what the hell you were thinking!” Ned muttered, the glow of the campfire beginning to illuminate them as the sun softly set, its light kissing the peaks of the trees, deep shadows filling the undergrowth.
“Well, excuse me for wanting to use a skill I have instead of just making the whole trip about you like always!” Nate spat back, wanting to throw his hands up, but was unable to due to them being confined by bandages.
“What are you talking about?” Ned finally wrapped the final bandage just in time to give Nathaniel control of his hands again, glaring in disbelief at his older brother.
“How often do you ask me to come do something just so you can focus all on yourself? Don’t you realize that’s why we don’t talk much? I felt bad for you because of the breakup stuff, but now you’re bringing a camera around, probably to record some shit for some show I don’t want any part in and it’s all just like when Dad was rooting your dreams all while dismissing all of mine outright! Why do you need everything to be a big spotlight on you?” Nate’s voice raised as Ned’s back turned, his arms crossing as he held back a few choice words.
“Y’know, this is so goddamn typical of you, Nate!” Ned called back, twisting his body back, the glow of the fire accentuating his hurt, “I try to do something just for us because, YEAH, I AM HAVING A ROUGH YEAR! In the ring? I’m at the top of my game, but out here? In the normal, here and now, everyday stuff? It’s a goddamn mess! So forgive me for wanting to spend some time with my brother, away from the pressure of a billion eyes and hoping to record it! I barely have any footage of good times between you and me and that breaks my heart! I know I could be doing better! I’m trying!”
“The way you tried with Darcy?” Nate interrupted. He regretted the sentence as soon as it left his lips. Ned’s face contorted, as if his older sibling had stabbed him in the side with a searing hot slab of metal. Ned hadn’t spoken about his recent breakup at length with Nate, even though the subject occupied a lot of his thoughts and was obviously underscoring much of his inner turmoil. The two simply never spoke about those matters, even when they were younger, yet Nate had never treated the subject… delicately. Still, even this was blatantly a step too far. Ned turned his back again, walking to the edge of the campsite and sitting down, refusing to acknowledge Nathaniel in the slightest. Nate tried to ignore the guilt filling him like the smoke spiraling up and spreading through the skies.
It was his second lousy attempt of the evening.
Sitting next to Ned, he rested his chin upon his bandaged fingers. He was never good at saying all those things swirling around his mind. He never had to. Nate lived in a world of numbers, of strict codes and rules, structure that crumbled in whatever mad existence Ned was submerged in. He tried to find the right words.
Third time was the charm, as far as trying went.
“I'm sorry. That was uncalled for,” Nate admitted, bracing himself for Ned’s response when he was finished, “I have held a lot of that anger from back then and more recently even though I really shouldn’t. It just feels sometimes like you got to do everything you wanted. You got the support and the unconditional love and forgiven for any mistake while my leash was an inch long with spikes all across it. You get everything that you want and I always feel like I’m sharing a moment with you instead of just… living.”
“I know,” Ned acknowledged, “it’s something… I kind of hate about being a “star.” You think having Dad right there invested in everything I did was easy, but it was a ton of pressure. And now… being successful can make it seem like everyone wants to pin a spotlight on me and dissect everything about me. I’ve never wanted the world to revolve around me. Why do you think I brought you here? Don’t have to worry about media or fans or anything. Just the woods.”
Nate chuckled a bit, understanding where Ned was coming from despite some disagreements, “well, there’s the big ass bugs here, too.”
“You know what I meant,” Ned side-eyed him, but smirked as he did so. The chirping of crickets filled the silence that followed.
“How did you find a place like this anyway?” Nate asked. He never took Ned for a huge survivalist or anything, so it was worth interrogating a little.
Ned shrugged, “It’s a place I come to when I need to be away from everything. It’s especially helped recently. Secluded. Miles away from anything or anyone. It’s nice. I just… I didn’t want to be alone this latest time I was coming here.”
“Why’s that?” Nate asked.
Ned didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Nathaniel sighed deeply, patting his hand on Ned’s shoulder.
“Ned,” he said, the most earnest Ned had ever heard him.
“Yeah?”
“Next time- bring a fuckin’ lighter.”
“I did!” Ned laughed as he shouted, sharing the giggles with his older brother as they returned to the campsite. Nate couldn’t make the things in his younger brother’s life all sorted out and clean, but he could give him a laugh and someone to be around. And on nights like these, that was enough.
“No flame is eternal.”
“There’s no amount of energy that we can force into anything to make it last forever, but the thing about human beings is that we try anyone. We see the impossible and, even knowing its impenetrable nature, we push forward as though no one ever told us that “couldn’t” was binding. Brandon Hendrix speaks as though he has the fire within him. He talks as though ambition is something he possesses, but the fact is that its the other way around. Sometimes, very rarely, ambition possesses him.”
“And that’s usually when he starts screaming his fucking lungs off at you.”
“I mean- Jesus Christ, dude, I know pro wrestling bravado is the language most of us speak, but you can get your same point across about 40 decibels lower. And if the only problems with Brandon were that he sounded like the love child of an air-raid siren and a woodpecker while having the name of a discount airfryer brand, I could probably let it go. Hendrix has lost loved ones. He’s gone through pain and made mistakes and seen mercy that has allowed him a second chance. A better chance.”
“And he spent that time yelling about Bryan Williams.”
“My issue isn’t that you cut a promo, Brandon, it’s that that’s all that mattered to you. I don’t think for one second you thought to call someone up or reach out or anything of the sort. Hell, if you need my number, you can just ask! But you didn’t. I go through hell, I go to my family. I reach out, even when it's difficult to. Bravery isn’t just medal they award you for stepping into a wrestling ring with a larger opponent, it’s the little things. It’s the admission that you need help. It’s getting up out of bed when every part of your body wishes your mattress were a tomb. You’re not brave, Brandon, you’re a man in search of a new path, taking the same damn steps. Retreating into comfortable norms because the thought of shirking them is unpalatable. You think you became the best in the world, but you stumble over your words, completely unconfident in each syllable. You wonder aloud if you can ever be the “greatest of all time.” The fact that you have to ask the question to yourself is the reason your name will never grace that list.”
“An ego a mile wide with an inferiority complex as big to boot. You can’t help but repeat the things people have called you, dwell on them obsessively. I understand getting caught up in your own head, but my criticisms and frustrations about myself are mine, Hendrix. My goals. My limits to surpass. My expectations. You have rented out a space in your head for every slightly disparaging remark anyone has ever given to you and it shows. You take all of those insults everywhere with you, Brandon. No wonder you wouldn’t keep your voice down, you can’t even buy a Snickers without thinking of the words “overrated” and “loser” twelve times. You can barely keep a grocery list going and you think your name is headed among the greats?”
“Not at this rate, buddy. You’re as stale as out-of-date bread.”
“On that note, let’s talk about respect. You walk into this tournament, angry, wronged, venomous about how no one gives you the credit you are due. Do you know how silly that sounds to me specifically? To me, who climbed my way up the mountain of the most competitive promotion in professional wrestling and is only a few months removed from a win over Chris Page? You’re so enraged about the fact that you haven’t done much yet that you spend more time talking about how no one respects you rather than doing anything to earn it. You want respect, Brandon? That starts with you because everyone can see that you don’t think highly of yourself, even as you ponder where all the worship is. I have faced countless people like you, Brandon. A lot of talking with little to say and they’re perpetually pissed off about it. Always wondering when someone is going to swoop in and assign greatness to them. When everyone is going to realize how cool and amazing and valiant they are. You come in like an explosion, bright, flashy, loud… and brief.”
“I am the Olympic fucking flame.”
“I might not be eternal, but I am damn well as close as we’re going to get. Your path ends here. When I joined this industry, I said I was going to become the greatest professional wrestler the XWF has ever known and not ONE person in that federation or any can say I haven’t made strides every single day to get closer to that goal. I act when you’d rather speak, Hendrix, because for all of your moaning and self-righteous indignation, you are a man fantastically missing the point. You are so convinced that the spotlight should be on you, but you only do any of this to prove other people wrong. Your entire identity is hamstrung by the fact that you do everything out of spite, out of trying to prove you exist and you belong.”
“You are part of this Brandon. However, you have to convince yourself that you don’t and that will put a barrier on your success.I don’t have to compete with you at your full potential, just the version of you you’ll allow yourself to be for others. You belong in a ring, Brandon. Just not mine. It doesn’t matter if the world has eyes on me or if I am in complete darkness, I shine just as bright. That’s the kind of competitor I am. One who doesn’t need to dedicate my every waking hour to what other people think of me. One who won’t settle for a single, big victory in the Porter Games. The man who is going to bring that trophy home and let it reflect the brightest light it can. You live in a world of barriers, Hendrix, a labyrinthe of your own design. You’d rather be the minotaur in maze you built than be free and accept the changing winds. No flame is eternal, but Brandon Hendrix is no flame.”
“He’s just smoke.”