You were running late. Real late. You felt your stomach drop as you ran through the busy streets of New Meridian, the nauseating lights and sounds almost drowning you as you pushed by people, getting a lot of strange looks as you politely rushed people to move out your way.

You had overslept on the day of friends wrestling match, and you knew he was going to be mad at you. To be fair, it was your first time actually having Beowulf invite you personally, and you weren’t good at schedules.

As you made it into the NMO arena, you looked at the crowd, already dissipating from the fight. Some people had stayed to cheer, but when you walked closer to the ring, you could see Beowulf in some sort of internal rage. Once you two made eye contact, he looked both angered and deeply hurt.

“Where the hell were you?”