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[MAIN STORY]
DATE/TIME: 4:00 PM, Sunday, August 24, 2008 [CAST]
This was... not what Steve Jason was expecting at all. He was in the town of Scarborough- on the Sunset Coast. Home. While to the vast majority of people who came here or heard of the place shrugged it off as a small and relatively unimportant tourism-based strip of coast on the far west of the Perth Metropolitan area, to a small group of people it was far, far more than that. It was home- and at the same time far more than just where they were born, or where they lived. This tiny little place was the very foundation upon which their very lives were built- friends, family, values, ideals, experiences and beliefs. That small number of people felt a strong affinity to its waters, its beaches, its stretches of coastal road and its 'beach town' atmosphere that could almost be described as patriotism- something that even some of their co-residents couldn't completely grasp. For that small number, the Sunset Coast was the basis of their very lives- and no matter where they went, they took it with them. Steve Jason was one of those people. Even nigh upon twelve years after leaving the Coast behind except for sporadic visits that were often years apart had not changed Steve's view on that. Or so he'd thought until now- until he'd come home expecting to reach the exact same town that had loomed so fondly in his memories, and had instead stumbled upon something so drastically different that already he was questioning whether he should have come here. It wasn't as if the town had been completely changed- and perhaps that was what made it worse. Many of the features that Steve had remembered about Scarborough were still there. As he stood on the intersection of the originally-named 'Scarborough Beach Road' leading towards the beach, and the long stretch known as the Esplanade that ran parallel to it, he recognized many features- the emerald lawns and pine trees were laid out throughout the area in front of the pure white beach and sparkling ocean just as he remembered them, and even most of the buildings were the same- a small shopping mall and miniaturized food court on his far left, and a long stretch of restaurants, cafes and shops on his far right. Even the towering Rendezvous hotel, reaching high into the sky just to his right, was familiar to him. But there were changes. Drastic ones. One such change was visible on the island of the roundabout directly in front of him; the most prominent feature in Scarborough, the post-modern belltower which was the unofficial symbol of Scarborough- and indeed the Sunset Coast itself- had been completely demolished, leaving nothing but rubble and a fenced-off area where some kind of new construction was taking place over the top of one of the building blocks of Steve's memories- as if literally building over a major piece of his life. Even now, fifteen minutes after first witnessing the change, he was shocked. Most people wouldn't have cared- or would have just thought it was an upgrade- but having done and experienced so many things in the shadow of that tower meant that Steve felt a certain sense of loss at seeing its ruins. The uprooted clock tower wasn't even all that had been removed. He could see even more things that had been irrevocably changed about his stamping ground. The grassy terraces that he used to remember lining up the wall between the street and the beach had now been gouged out with an enormous Roman stone amphitheatre that had completely split a popular hangout spot he and his friends had often hung out, soaked up sun, chatted and even, admittedly, street-drank on in two. And even further up the road, he could see the Lookout- a popular bar that Steve and the Crew had made their unofficial headquarters- now boarded up and completely empty, out of business completely, no doubt soon to be bought out for some fancy new business venture. He had come expecting the Coast to be the same as he'd left it, but instead he'd found a sinking feeling in his stomach, coupled with bewilderment, surprise, and a strange feeling of loss. Whatever he'd come to Australia for, this was not it. This was not the memory he was chasing at all. "You alright, SJ? You're looking kinda unhappy there..." Dougy asked with concern. He was here, of course- in addition to being from the Coast himself, this was where he had come to collect a shipment of Bundaberg Rum that was scheduled to arrive for Justin Jones' V.I.Philly enterprise that he'd embarked on with Talia Richards. He was a lot more happy-go-lucky about the visibly-altered town than Steve himself, looking every bit in his element with his best black shirt with blue flames along it. Temujin had also agreed to accompany them- and while he didn't completely fit in with his blue silk robes, he certainly wouldn't have looked all that different from the hippies who occasionally came to the beach to sell their trinkets to any who might take them. "Yeah, I'm just... kinda shocked is all. What happened to the Coast? Has it been that long since we were last here?" "2005, mate. And... yeah, evidently so. Shame about the Lookout shutting down, but that amphitheater is actually pretty sweet! We'll have to use it for a round of beach cricket some time." "The amphitheater I can live with. But what the hell happened to the rest of the town? They've changed it!" "Eh, changes happen..." Dougy shrugged casually, "Maybe Michelle can explain it better when she gets here." As if on cue, that was the exact moment that Michelle Jason chose to arrive at the intersection, walking along from the hotel and shops, where she was no doubt parked. She was three years younger than Steve at twenty-seven, and in terms of looks they were considerably different. Where Steve's hair had been dark almost to the point of being black, she had a mane of light brown hair that was almost on the verge of red. The infamous blue eyes were there, but instead of varying between icy and steely most of the time, hers were what could only be described as baby-blue. And for another, where Steve had been a tall man, Michelle was short and slight, even for a woman; she had to be about five feet flat, giving Steve a foot and a quarter over her. Her slender form was wrapped up in a green off-the-shoulder sweater and denim jeans- cold weather gear by Australian standards. That baffled him- all the time he'd spent in the Northern Hemisphere had all but hardened him against the Australian winter to the point where he barely felt it.
"Oh my God, it is you!" With a sudden warm, silvery laugh his sister ran towards him and threw her arms around him in the tight hug of somebody who hadn't seen their loved ones in quite some time. Steve laughed awkwardly, taken aback for a few moments before returning the hug. "Were you expecting Johnny Depp? I could have brought him, you know." "Still giving me a hard time over that celebrity crush, I see..." she remarked dryly before looking over at Steve's friends, "Dougy! You're still alive!" "What's that supposed to mean?" Dougy demanded. "Your yearbook, remember? 'Most Likely To Die In A Barfight, Fire, Explosion or Alcohol-Related Misadventure'." "I'd almost forgotten that, but there's still time..." Dougy remarked owlishly. "And who's this?" Michelle's eyes flashed over towards Temujin now, peering up- way up. While Steve was very tall compared to her, the six-five Temujin was nothing short of a giant. In spite of this, the former monk seemed quite reserved and quiet- and even a little shy as a small smile crept onto his face. "My name is Temujin, ma'am. Your brother and I trained at Kanetatsu's Academy in Japan." "No need for the ma'am, Temujin. Just Michelle will do." She looked around at the three of them, then tilted her head to ask a question, "You guys have come a long way. You want to go get a drink or something? I wish I could offer the Lookout, but it's been shut down, so we'll have to settle for the Stamford." "Dear God, I've missed you, girl!" Dougy exclaimed then, his eyes lighting up and a bright grin crossing his face. Steve considered it casually, then nodded. "Why not? It might be nice to go somewhere familiar." "Excellent, let's go then!" She began to lead the way from the street corner, but tilted her head in curiosity as she walked, "What do you mean, somewhere familiar? I would have thought everything here was as familiar as it got for you." "Not really." Steve replied gravely, following a short distance after her, "What happened to the clock tower?" "What?" Michelle blinked in surprise at the question. "The clock tower. There was a giant clock tower in the middle of that roundabout. It has been there since as long as I can remember, and I've been going to Scarborough since I was a toddler. It was easily one of the most iconic landmarks in Scarborough. If you thought about the Sunset Coast in general, that clock tower was among your memories. You've been to Scarborough enough for it to have been in your memory quite a bit, Michelle. But it's not there." "Oh. You weren't around for it, obviously, so I imagine it's a bit of a shock to you. For some reason they decided they were going to demolish it and put something else there." "Why? Why did they do it? That thing had history! It was a part of people's lives! I've lost count of how many New Year's parties I went to in the shadow of that thing, how many skate sessions I've had with the guys there. That thing's a part of the place and they can't just... amputate it like that!" Steve was almost surprised at the amount of heat he was putting in to the demolition of a simple building- and indeed, if anyone else had said it about any other building in any other place, he'd have ruled them out as being overly emotional. "City of Stirling does whatever it feels like, Steve." Michelle shrugged nonchalantly, "They wanted something new, so they're getting it. I don't like the idea that they're wrecking such a historical building, but what can we do?" With the Lookout out of commission, they were forced to rely on the traditional British pub known as the Stamford Arms, which was situated on the corner of the busy roundabout and the major throughway road not too far from where they already stood. The Arms was fortunate enough to have a 'beer garden' directly out the front of the establishment, which allowed people to sit outside and take in the atmosphere of the area- and this was preferably, as the inside of the Arms was just a little rowdy with the sound of shouting and people watching some game on TV. This was where they sat, overlooking the main road. Dougy had not surprisingly gone for a shot of Bundaberg Rum, while Michelle nursed a purple Vodka Cruiser containing God knew what. Temujin, being a former monk, had only water, and Steve- having foregone alcohol in the lead-up to a major title shot- sipped from a pint full of Coke. "I still can't believe you're not drinking..." Michelle remarked. "I can't." Steve shrugged, "Standard policy for a major title match. No booze for the last two weeks in." "Yeah, we've been following. Platinum Championship, huh? It's been a long time since you had a match like that." "Close to four years now. It's probably going to be the hardest one I've ever fought. I have to hand it to the guy I'm fighting- he's a really, really annoying dick with no connection to the real world whatsoever... but he's good." "Yeah. I'm surprised you called in Julian to side with you- he's cute and all, but I'd have expected you to have your little... friend in your corner." She smirked and emphasized that 'friend' part, "What's going on there, anyway? Getting serious?" "I don't really know yet." Steve shrugged, "It could get that way. All depends on how things go, I guess. Seeing her's been pretty good so far, so logically..." "Hey, watch it, will ya?" Dougy suddenly yelled at a group of people who had just muscled their way past the table. They were a pack of young adults in polos ranging from salmon pink to pastel blue, each one with their collars popped up, many with moussed up hair and other similar looks that identified them as the latest 'jock' trend-followers. "Man, even the surfers are completely different..." Steve muttered sourly, "Pink polos? Popped collars? My God, this place really has gone down the tubes..." "Y'know, maybe we should go inside or something..." Dougy said placatingly, eyeing Steve very cautiously, "Man, I didn't realize how conservative you were about this place." "Most of my life- and indeed significant chunks of my identity of a wrestler- are based around this town, Dougy," Steve reminded him, "And in a matter of a few years, it's suddenly been changed. Have I really been gone for so long that time's passed me by here?" Dougy opened his mouth to speak, but Temujin shook his head at him. There was only one person who was qualified to answer that question, and it was Michelle herself. She looked left and right around the area, then let a sigh escape her and answered Steve's question as calmly as she could. "Honestly, Steve? Things have changed a lot while you've been gone. I mean, you've noticed that already. The clock tower, the terraces being taken out to create the amphitheater, the Lookout closing down, the popcollars taking over. These aren't the mid to late 1990s any more. If you came here seeking that..." Michelle's look was apologetic as her hands spread, "It's just not here any more. Times change, Scarborough- and the whole coast in general- is becoming more and more commercialized and influenced by mainstream culture. The developers are tearing down landmarks like the tower and the terraces and building offices and hotels and tourist-friendly things. As for the surfer crews... I mean, have you seen City Beach surf store in Perth CBD? The place has its own DJ and it's playing Soulja Boy." "Freakin' Soulja Boy?" Even Dougy seemed outraged by that, "Christ, maybe time has passed us by, SJ." Steve hated the sound of that. Passed him by? This was his home. How could it change so much that he no longer felt that way about it? He honestly felt like an outsider here now, like he didn't belong. The absence of that clock tower continually reminded him of that, as did the 'new breed' of surfers continually flitting past. Steve was only thirty, and yet looking around the place, he felt a disturbing amount like one of those old codgers who reminisced about 'the good old days' and continually decried how it wasn't like that any more. The ironic thing was that until this day, Steve had always looked down on that kind of behavior. And now he'd become the same kind of person, looking at the past through rose-colored glasses and rejecting the present. Maybe Dougy was right. Maybe time had passed them by and maybe this place which had been so familiar to them once was no longer 'theirs'. "Evidently. But still... I came all this way." That last part was said bitterly. Was this whole thing a mistake? It was starting to feel more and more that way, and to be honest Steve was beginning to wish he'd just stayed in the States. Hell, at least Raz and Julian and Angel were back home- he couldn't even rant and rave to any of them about this. Michelle wasn't quite ready to let the topic end yet though, setting her Cruiser down and shrugging helplessly. "I hate to say it, Steve... but the Coast is not what you remember it to be. You need to know that- because if you've come home to find your old empire and draw inspiration from it... well, I hate to say it, but it's not here." He didn't really want to comment on that. He sighed, taking a long sip from his pint full of Coke, then at that precise moment somebody shuffled towards their table from the main sidewalk. Steve had seen many like him before- your standard 'hippie' type, with a baggy orange shirt and pants and long hair down to his waist. In an almost hilarious contrast, however, he had a laptop under his arm. Although what a techno-savvy bohemian wanted with them was anybody's guess- right until he spoke in an American-tinged voice and said two words that explained exactly who he really was. "Mr. Octavian?" Steve drew himself up short at that codename. He knew exactly who would be wanting to get in touch with him if it was used. Obviously something had gone down, and to be honest, Steve was expecting none of it to be good. Knowing his luck, the plane's engines had exploded and he'd be stuck here for days and lose even more time to Ebdon. He gritted his teeth, resisted the urge to curse, then replied gruffly. "What's happened?" "You have a call." As if to emphasize that point, the hippie snapped open the laptop and set it down on the table. Sure enough, a video conference program was open, and depicted on the video was none other than Nestor Richards, sitting in the workstation of his office that Steve had been in not all that long ago. His voice echoed out of the laptop's speakers as he regarded Steve casually.
"Ah, Steve! How's the Coast, my friend? I see you found your way to the Stamford Arms rather fast." "It's... OK. To be honest with you, Nestor, I was expecting a little better. I hate to sound like I've wasted your time here, but I'm not sure I should have come here." "Ah- you noticed the changes to Scarborough, no doubt. I was counting on that. If you'd gone to Cottesloe, you'd have noticed things hadn't changed all that much, and therefore you wouldn't have learned what you needed to. But I figured that knowing you spent all your youth in Scarborough, that's where you'd go." What was this? The way Nestor had spoken- and particularly in that all-knowing tone- indicated that he'd counted on this all along. Had he known about how the town had changed from what Steve remembered and cherished it as? And had he known it would have had that kind of disillusioning effect on him? And if so... why in the world did Nestor do it? Had Ebdon gotten to him and convinced him to waste as much of Steve's time as he could? Or was this some sadistic payback for refusing to do the Conglomerate's business? Steve clenched his fists, feeling terrible suspicion build up in him, but nevertheless he kept his cool as he stared at the screen. "You knew? And you knew it would have that effect on me?" Nestor didn't speak- his head merely nodded on the screen. "Then why? Why send me here? Why suggest to me that I need to return to the Coast to see things that I needed to see and visit places that I needed to visit only to find out that those places either don't exist or have been altered beyond my memory? I don't feel like I'm 'home', Nestor, and I don't feel like I'm being inspired by 'home'. I feel like I'm somewhere I don't even know, and I feel like I've wasted several days." "I stand by my words upon sending you here, Steve. You returned here because there were things that you needed to see. You've been trailing bits and pieces of the Coast ever since you left. Even in America, you still considered the Coast 'home'- and even as a wrestler, you still thought you'd go back there one day and die there. This illusion needed to be dispelled, because it's simply a distraction from your true destiny. You know that your destiny, your future, lies in the United States now- and you also know that's the only home you can ever know now. You must let go of the past if you are to defeat Pete Ebdon." Neither of the three accompanying Steve said a single word in response. They clearly knew that this had to be settled between Steve and Nestor. He... candidly had to admit that Nestor's words made sense. He had envisioned home as something it was not- like by going there, he could somehow 'recharge' his batteries just by going there and become the personification of the place. The truth was, it had changed so much that it wasn't that place any more. Michelle had been right- the Sunset Coast Steve remembered, the one that he used as his inspiration and his personification, existed only in his head. "Your reliance on this... simple place is holding you back, Steve..." Nestor continued relentlessly, "Everything this place taught you remains with you, and everything it meant to you is in your head. The cherished memory of the Coast still exists and you can still use it to motivate you. That motivation and that memory will be there wherever you go- and it doesn't matter whether you're here or in Philadelphia. You needed to come here, Steve- in order to find out that you don't need to come here any more. Just like you transcended and evolved from Los Angeles and the XWF, now the time has come for you to evolve from the Sunset Coast." That was a lot to take in- but truth be told, a lot of it made sense. Despite the importance the Coast had in the past... it was not his future. His future lay in Philadelphia now... in Platinum. His destiny entailed the Platinum Championship. He no longer needed the Sunset Coast... and the Coast didn't need him. That was what all of those changes had meant. It wasn't an assault on his past, it wasn't a bastardization of his cherished memories- it was to let him know that the time had finally come to let Sunset Coast, Australia go, take what he had learned from it with him. Nobody had 'taken over his home' or 'changed his home' - it was no longer his, and the time had come to hand it over to the new generation now, while he went his own way. It was a decision that stung- but one that needed to be made. He let a sigh escape him at that before answering the question. "So where do I go now?" "That's ultimately your decision, Steve. But logically, you are in Australia now. You could return... home to Philadelphia if you wish, but there may be opportunities to visit other places that you'd only have a chance to do here. Other places that... may have a much more meaningful impact on you than this one. I would think hard on that. Are there any such places? I'll need to know before I charter the appropriate flight. Is it Philadelphia, is it somewhere else, or do I put the plane on hold while you remain here?" Other places? There was only one place Steve had in mind when it came to places that could possibly be useful to prepare him for the largest struggle in his career- and he'd just discovered that place was absolutely useless. It almost seemed to be a no-brainer- he'd tell Nestor to fly to Philadelphia post-haste. There was no point remaining here and he was wasting precious days- hours- minutes- staying in a place that had no real value to his preparation. He opened his mouth to give an answer... Then it struck him at the absolute last second- as if it had been waiting for him to practically give up before coming to that conclusion. There was one more place. Its value was different- it wasn't a place he had a spiritual connection to like he'd felt about the Coast. It had practical value- there were tangible things he could learn, and there were even people who could show him the path he needed to take. And truth be told, it was practically on the way to the States- well, OK, it was a slight side-trip but certainly a damn sight better than Europe or something. Michelle caught the inspired look on his face through the corner of her eyes, then raised a slim brow. "You alright?" "Yeah. An idea just came to me." With that, he turned to regard Temujin suddenly, "Temujin, Kanetatsu's instructions when he told me to look for you were to find you and to tell him what's going on. I think you need to do that yourself, though- and I think you need to do it in person. I want you to go back to Kanetatsu when we leave." "I can do that, Steve..." Surprise and confusion set in over Temujin's face, "...but aren't we going back to Philadelphia first? You'd have to turn around and go well out of your way to get there." "You aren't going alone." Steve answered before turning back to Nestor's face on the laptop, "Alright, Nestor. One more destination. I need you to get me to Okinawa, Japan." "An unusual destination choice..." Nestor mused, stroking his beard, "What's in Okinawa?" "The academy where Temujin and I were trained when we were younger. Temujin has his reasons for going there... and so do I. You told me to choose one more place that might have a meaningful impact. Obviously I chose this one and... the impact was not what I would have liked. This time, however, I know it's the impact I want. If I'm really going to have to step it up to a whole new level and transcend my limits and boundaries, then the academy is where I need to go." "Because your master is there?" "That's only one tiny part of why I need to go there. There are things I can learn from Kanetatsu- but there are other reasons I need to be there too. What I can safely say is that I need to be there." To emphasize that point, Steve stared into the webcam with a serious, emphatic stare. Odds were, of course, he was actually looking off at a completely different angle hence ruining the effect, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. After a few moments of silence, Nestor nodded. "Very well, then! If you say you need to go there, then I won't doubt you. As it so happens the plane may need another refuelling to make the full trip to Philadelphia, so perhaps Japan is the place to do it. As soon as you're ready to go, call the pilot- use the usual codename. He'll have it ready to go in a matter of hours. And Steve..." Nestor looked at him calmly, "I really hope you find what you're looking for this time. Despite the discoveries you had to make, I do regret the disappointment you must feel right now." "Well, if this goes the way I hope it does, it'll be worth the trip and the setback..." Steve laughed quietly before looking back at the screen, "I'll see you later." With a simple nod from Nestor, Steve snapped the laptop shut and handed it back to the hippie, who simply bowed his head slightly for ironic effect before shuffling away from the table and back across the busy road, disappearing towards the lawns. He didn't leave much time for the group to talk, however, as only a few moments later the sound of a reversing truck beeping could be heard as sure enough, a large truck with the Bundaberg Rum logo backed onto the stretch of road outside the pub. Dougy only had to take one look before, with an excited whoop, he leaped the fence and practically ran out onto the sidewalk. The man getting out of the truck was young- probably about eighteen or so. He was tall, thin and had blond dreadlocks, and was decked out in a Rusty brand tanktop and shorts that immediately identified him as a younger surfie- no doubt on his day job. Dougy and the young man began talking enthusiastically as Steve, Temujin and Michelle all rose to their feet to join him. "Nathan, my man, you won't regret this..." Dougy grinned emphatically, signing a clipboard, "You have just made your mark in nightclubbing history. You should be very proud, this will be a day you can look back upon and tell the grandkids 'I helped Dougy McNamara and Justin Jones take over the nightclubbing world and spread the light and knowledge of Bundy to all mankind." "Er... I don't really club too much. But I'm glad to help." Nathan said. As Steve approached, however, both eyes widened in surprise as the young man seemed to recognize him. "Holy crap. You're SJ, aren't you?" "That's me..." Steve raised an eyebrow in surprise, "You want an autograph or something?" "Not exactly. Look, I really wanted to ask you something. I surf with a small group of mates, and we've been looking for a few good surfing spots to use. And... well, there's yours, you know, the old one a few miles away from here?" "I remember." "Nobody's been using it for a while except for people who used to know you, because... well, it's Steve Jason's surf spot. Nobody else is allowed to use it, it's yours. That rule's been in place ever since you left. I probably only have one shot at this, but I'll ask respectfully- can we use it? Your spot, I mean? We'd really appreciate it." "I can't give you permission for that spot, Nathan..." he said in a regretful tone. The look on the youth's face was crestfallen, as if Steve had crushed an opportunity he had held dear for a long time. Nevertheless, he held a certain dignity and despite his obvious disappointment, he nodded affirmatively. "That's OK. It's your spot, and if you say we can't use it, then we can't use it. I respect that. Thanks all the same." "Perhaps I need to clarify myself." Steve spoke up as the youth turned to leave, causing him to stop in his tracks, "I can't give you permission because it's not mine to give any more. It's not my spot. I'm going to be honest with you, Nathan, I'm leaving the Sunset Coast and I'm not sure when I'll be back- if ever. I'm never coming back here to live, that's for sure, and the only times I'll be visiting is to see my family. It's not fair for me to hold rights to a spot if that's the case. That 'spot' is the one piece of the Coast I still hold on to- and I'm impressed by the respect and attitude you've shown. I've been gone for years and I'm irrelevant here, yet you ask me politely if you can use my spot where others would have just used it. So I'm taking my last piece of the coast... and I'm giving it to you." "You're giving me your spot?" Nathan blinked in amazement. "Yep. All yours. If anyone tries to stop you using it, you tell them I gave the spot to you and tell them that if they get in touch with me, I'll be happy to answer any questions they may have." "Yeah, yeah, yeah, lovely, the new generation has our blessings and support." Dougy interrupted impatiently, "Nathan also has to complete his mission, so we've gotta get him on the way to the airport! So if you wouldn't mind hurrying it up..." Steve rolled his eyes at that, but nevertheless agreed and turned back to Nathan. "Look, I have to go. I have a long journey ahead of me, and I need to be on it as soon as I can. But honestly, Nathan, thank you for helping Dougy out- and again, enjoy the spot. You're no doubt about to have some serious fun, and I dare say your connection with this Coast could change your very life. Me? I'm about to embark on something life-changing too. For the first time, I'm pursuing a destiny without the Sunset Coast. I'll always remember where I came from- but I'm heading into new territory here too. So from one journeyman to another..." Steve grinned at the young man and held out his hand, "Good luck." Nathan was quiet for a long time, as if pondering exactly what had been said to him and what it meant. He frowned thoughtfully, then scratched his chin, then he finally nodded as if it finally made sense to him. His eyes took on a somewhat solemn yet at the same time well-wishing cast as he reached out to shake Steve's hand in his own, as if the symbolic transfer of power between old surfer and new surfer were to take place in that one single gesture of friendship and good will. When Nathan spoke, he didn't use the standard 'good luck' - instead he used a phrase that only Steve used up until now. "Good hunting, SJ. Good hunting." 
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