Episode SIMMONS

[FPV]

KOTDM NIGHT THREE: Episode SIMMONS

Two days after the phone call with Lerch.

Hopping off of the plane and stepping foot into Seattle-Tacoma Airport for the first time in a few years, I felt a great sense of unease about me. The city itself was lovely, one of my favorite places to tour even. No, it was the reason I set out to Seattle that had me worried. Finding Peter Quinn would be a bit of a challenge. From all reports I'd heard about him recently, the guy seemed to have become a recluse since the...incident. So I knew I'd have to put in a bit of legwork looking for him. Now that I had a little bit of time to relax within the airport terminal, I took ole trusty Iceberg-Six and began my search.

Iceberg-Six: Hello User: Frank. How can I help you?

FPV: Run a search on "Peter Quinn."

Iceberg-Six: Running Search. 1%. 15%. 56%. 89%. 100%. Search finished. Many news articles found.

FPV: Anything on his current place of residence?

Iceberg-Six: Negative.

FPV: Dammit. Anything else?

Iceberg-Six: Many news articles-

FPV: NO! I don't need to read any of those news articles.

Iceberg-Six: Noted.

I felt bad yelling at the old girl, she was putting in a lot of work. She just couldn't find info on a guy so secluded. I sighed and closed the search window.

FPV: Looks like I'll have to do this the old fashioned way, girl.

Iceberg-Six: Noted. Good luck User: Frank.

I nodded and closed the laptop. After getting the requiset airport Cinnabon and enjoying a quick treat, I made my way out of the airport and approached the Uber I had called as the flight landed. After quickly dropping off my luggage at the hotel, I went to the best place to find a hipster like Quinn.

Starbucks.

Just stepping into this place made me nauseous. Perhaps it was spending so much time working in a business that actually strives for quality caffeinated beverages, but this place just REEKED of corporate bullshit and burnt grounds. Disgusting. But the trip needed to be made. I reluctantly grabbed a cup before asking around, hoping to get lucky.

Most people had never heard of Peter Quinn before. Understandable, but this was honestly my best shot. Finally, after about half an hour of asking, I got lucky. The girl was a typical twenty-something with a beanie and thick glasses, the type of person you'd expect to be here. Her name was Donna.

Donna: Yeah, I knew Peter. Used to work with him down at the papers. Weird dude, very weird.

FPV: By any chance do you know where he might be living at the moment?

She thought for a minute, then pulled out her phone and typed in an address directing me to a nearby apartment complex.

Donna: Try there. Last I heard he was living there with a bit of assistence.

FPV: Good to know, thank you.

As I turned to leave, she asked me one final question.

Donna: Just curious...why do you want to talk to him?

FPV: Let's just say the two of us have...unfinished business.

And with that I left the coffee shop, now with a solid lead.

---

The following message was posted to FPV's Facebook page Wednesday morning.

So last night...did not go as I had planned at all. I was hoping I would put Jaice away definitively and move on in the tournament What I was not expecting was to tie with the man. It's just like I told him, I would take him seriously as long as he took me seriously. It's obvious from last night that he did.

I'm not gonna let this setback deter me away from the goal. I'm not knocked out of contention just yet, still got three more days to go. My sights are still set on one man, and one man alone. Corey. Black. Knowing him and the influence of everyone around him, he's probably guffawing at the thought that I couldn't get it done with Jaice. That's fine. Let him laugh. It'll make it all the more sweet when I take his crown as King of the Deathmatch.

But that's later on down the line. Tonight, I've got it easy. I've got one of the dime a dozen, generic as fuck tough guys that always pass through this industry. Dammian Simmons. How Lerch even allowed this guy into the company let alone the tournament is a mystery. The guy brings nothing to the table personality wise. I defy you to tell me any promos he cuts have any substance to them. I DEFY you.

Inside the ring he's not that much better. I've been watching his matches from the back and the guy bores me to tears. Probably he's such a paradox of styles. Powerhouse high flier? "The Colossal Cruiserweight?" Bruh, pick one or the other, you can't be both! That's not how this works. Also, "Elevation" is the worst fucking name I've heard for a finisher possibly ever. Go back to the drawing board on that one buck-o.

You see, people like you rely on intimidation to get what they want in this industry. You people scare whoever crosses your path and beat the fuck out of anyone stupid enough to actually fight you. But Damian, I don't know if you've takeen a look at the landscape of the WCF. We've got people like Oblivion, nay MONSTERS like Oblivion. Monsters that I've slain in the past. They don't scare me anymore. How can I take a thug like you seriously when you lost to a LITERAL zombie last night? I can't that's how.

Our match will be the definition of quick and brutal. I won't be satisfied until you've got third degree burns all over your body. My hot streak is just getting warmed up, Dammian. Yours? It's getting snuffed out, just like your potential in this tournament.

I've waste enough time with this smack talk. I'm off to train. I'll see you tonight, Damian.