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“There’s always a plan B.”
༯
Nathan Frazer was, in every way, Seth Rollins’ successor. From his look, to his moveset, to his already growing list of accomplishments–in both the fans eyes, and the eyes of WWE officials–he was the next Seth Rollins. There was no denying it; and it was a comparison that Nathan happily welcomed with open arms. After all, Seth had trained him.
So being called the next Seth Rollins? It was an honor that Nathan didn’t take lightly.
He had a legacy to uphold.
Footsteps to follow in.
So when Seth showed up to the arena on the morning of NXT Heatwave, black box tucked under his arm, Nathan was very, very confused. Granted, RAW would be in Ontario the following night, so the appearance wasn’t that surprising. It was more so what was in the box that shocked Nathan.
“You’re… giving me this?” Nathan glanced between Seth and the open box, his mouth slightly agape. “I can’t accept this, Seth. I-”
Seth chuckled, placing a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. He glanced at, and then winked at, the camera nearest to him–while this was a genuine and sweet moment between mentor and mentee, it was also slated to be a digital exclusive before Heatwave aired. The higher ups wanted to make sure the fans could have emotional investment in every match, and a classic “mentor/mentee” moment was the easiest way to do it. “You can. It’s a gift. I want to see you rock them tonight.”
Nathan carefully pulled a mass of black fabric out of the box, setting the box on the ground and unfolding the fabric. Black pants, with a gold trim stared back at him. Nathan recognized this gear; how could he not? It was one of Seth’s most iconic gears–black with gold trim, one he wore prominently throughout his career before his newer, flashier character. The original “SR” logo on the waist was replaced with a gold “NF” logo, though–Seth had put time and thought into this.
“This is…” He was speechless, to say the least. Seth clapped him on the shoulder, trying and failing to suppress his smile.
“Make me proud tonight, kid.”
༯
“What happened to the gear we decided on?” Axiom said as Nathan emerged from the bathroom, his arms wide and a wide smile plastered on his face. Axiom couldn’t get just how much Nathan reminded him of Seth out of his head–especially now, wearing gear that looked just like Seth’s older gear. Nathan’s walk slowed as the words left Axiom’s mouth, and the smile dropped from his face.
“About that…” At least he had the decency to look ashamed. “Seth… gave me a little gift before I came in here.” He gestured to the pants. Axiom gave him a quick glance over, though Nathan couldn’t see, and shook his head.
“I can see that. But we had decided on this orange gear a month ago, Nathan.” Axiom gestured down to his own pants, and then back up at his orange and black mask, sighing. “We can’t go out there without matching, and I didn’t bring anything else.”
“We absolutely can go out there without matching. I’ve seen other teams do it all the time.” Nathan retorted, plopping on the bench and wrestling a pair of black boots onto his feet. “Seth specifically asked me to wear this gear tonight, Axiom. He’s my mentor. I’m not going to let him down.”
Axiom turned away from Nathan at that–though the younger couldn’t see through the mask, Axiom still didn’t want to face him. Not after that comment. It seemed like recently, everything with Nathan was “Seth this” or “Title that”. Never a thought about Axiom. Never a thought about their future. Only his. Only this legacy that Nathan thought he needed to live up to.
Never Axiom.
Tears stung Axiom’s eyes; he had a nasty feeling about their match tonight, about their future together as a whole, but he stomped it down. He locked that feeling deep within the pit of his stomach, pushed the nagging ideas back in his brain.
He sighed again, words tumbling through his mind.
“You won’t let him down, but you sure seem to love letting me down, don’t you?”
Nathan’s head snapped up, mouth agape, ready to retort.
But truthfully? He had no retort. He didn’t think Axiom was right–Nathan absolutely cared about him. He hated letting him down. But.. but this was Seth Rollins. The Seth Rollins. His mentor… he couldn’t let him down. Axiom… would have to understand.
Nathan opened his mouth again, an attempt to fix the situation waiting on his tongue, but Axiom had already taken his title and entrance jacket and was en route to the door. Without so much as a glance back at Nathan, he opened the door with one hand and let it slam behind him, the sound echoing through the small locker room.
༯
The crowd, and by association, the online fans and commentary, were quick to notice that the pair were not wearing similar gear. Nathan tried to ignore the way Axiom rubbed his hands on his pants nervously, the way his head kept turning to look at Nathan’s pants, but it was starting to nag at him. He tamped the feeling down; he said it early, plenty of tag teams had wrestled matches not matching. This wasn’t a big deal.
The match, though it started bumpy, fell into a smooth rhythm, a back and forth between Chase U and the fast-paced Fraxiom. The crowd were entertained, as they usually were when it came to Frazer and Axiom matches. A very well executed springboard to the ringside area from Nathan got the crowd on their feet. Axiom doing a corkscrew twist onto the announce table, effectively sending Andre Chase through the table, sent them into a frenzy.
But Nathan’s momentum coming to a stop with a single big boot from the much larger, much stronger Duke Hudson threw a wrench in the plans of the champions.
And Andre Chase managing to crawl back into the ring and stop Nathan’s pinfall when he finally recovered from the kick did nothing but further Nathan’s frustrations. He slapped the mat with one hand, and then tore through his hair with fervor, his face reddening.
He grabbed Duke by the head and slammed his face onto the mat, and then took a single second to rationalize his next move. It was what Seth would do–think about his next move.
He could tag in Axiom, or…
Duke was in the perfect position.
A curb stomp.
Nathan ignored Axiom’s outstretched hand and his calls for the tag, and instead rebounded off the rope with such speed, it would have broken a speedometer.
His foot connected with the back of Duke’s head, and his face ricocheted off the mat, blood trickling from his nose.
And that should have been it.
One.
Two.
There was no three. No three count. Nathan looked up from the pin, watching as Andre Chase scampered back to his corner. Nathan had no choice but to do the same, and he slapped Axiom’s hand so hard that it stung, his frustration evident on his face.
Axiom did a double take, between his hand and Nathan, for only a second.
A second was enough to cost them the match.
Quicker than either man could blink, Andre hit his finisher, and dove into the pin.
Nathan looked down at a remorseful looking Thea Hail, who held his ankles as he tried to get into the ring. As he tried, and failed, to save their titles.
The bell ringing may as well have just been their funeral.
The cheerful “And neeeeew…” from Mike Rome felt like a thousand knives, stabbing his chest repeatedly.
A few moments passed, and the Chase U celebration moved backstage, their theme song dying out. Axiom struggled to stand, and Nathan sat on the edge of the ring, not looking at his partner.
Not sparing his best friend a glance. Instead, he slid off the apron, opting to look underneath the ring instead. He rummaged for a moment, before pulling out a sleek piece of black metal. Quiet murmurs tore through the crowd–maybe this was something. Maybe this meant nothing. He silently slid it through the bottom of the ring ropes, watching as it came to a stop a few inches from Axiom’s feet.
Axiom, however, stood in the middle of the ring, clearly off balance. He looked around, the edges of his vision blurry. The finisher had actually knocked him out, the amount of force put into it, and he was just regaining his senses, just realizing what happened. He frantically spun, looking for Nathan.
Nathan slid into the ring, and rushed to pull his friend into a hug. Axiom melted into Nathan’s arms–it was entirely evident he needed this. He needed him. Axiom needed Nathan.
“Nathan, I’m so sorry.”
Nathan said nothing, his hand clutching the back of Axiom’s head, holding him as close as he could. When he finally let go, finally let Axiom push away, Nathan himself had a few tears streaming down his face.
“Go, it’s okay. I’ll meet you…” Nathan whispered, gesturing toward the stage.
Axiom’s first mistake? Trusting anyone who was close to Seth Rollins.
Trusting Nathan Frazer, to be more specific.
The crack of the steel chair across Axiom’s back sent an immediate hush over the arena. Not a soul moved. Axiom’s groans of pain were the only thing that could be heard–even Booker T and Vic Joseph were stunned into silence.
Nathan wiped his tears with the back of his hand. A camera zoomed into his face, every detail etching itself into the lens. His bloodshot red eyes. The red rims under his eyes. The shiny trails of tears on his cheeks. Everything.
Crack.
Axiom arched with each chair shot, screaming in pain. Screaming for his best friend to stop.
He wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
“I fucking hate you.” He screamed, piercing the silence. He sent the chair down on Axiom’s back once more.
Make me proud tonight, kid.
Nathan positioned the bent chair under Axiom’s nearly lifeless head before slipping underneath the ropes again, retrieving a second chair from under the ring.
Make me proud tonight, kid.
Sweat dripped down his forehead, trailing over his eyebrow, down his nose, and dripping onto Axiom below.
Make me proud tonight, kid.
The lights gleamed in his eyes as he raised the chair above his head, the sounds of referees and other superstars alike screaming at him blending into the background. Nothing else mattered. Nothing except living up to his potential.
Nothing except following his legacy.
Make me proud tonight, kid.
Crack.
Nathan squeezed his own eyes shut as the chair bent itself around Axiom’s skull, and he dropped it as soon as the damage was done, letting it clatter to the mat.
Everyone was dead silent as Nathan walked, eerily calm, out of the ring, not bothering to glance back at his best friend. His partner.
He saw only one person, standing on the top of the ramp, hands in his hair.
He stood, toe to toe, with his mentor, and he made sure to speak loud enough, so everyone could hear. So everyone could remember exactly who was to blame here–it wasn’t Nathan’s fault. It would never be Nathan’s fault.
His mentor’s lip quivered as he stared at Nathan.
In this light, at this angle, in that gear… Nathan looked exactly like his mentor.
“Did I make you proud, Seth?”