"There isn't much you're going to have to worry about, Hiro. They've got him back under surveillance again, he's locked away, the red alert is over. We're going to be rolling back the security backstage, and before Cartwright returned to power Mick Foley was sure to sign on to you continuing to have this private locker room if you'd like it -- he called a professional courtesy to a veteran. It's up to you, we've spoken with your lawyer to update him, everything is up to you now. The long national nightmare is over Hiro, you can rest easy buddy."
The head of WWF:G security patted the Ethnic Enigma on the back as he exited his locker room, letting the vet know about changes to the backstage area going forward. Hiro leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as a feeling of relief washed over him. He had sent a donation to St. Jude's Children Hospital in Dean Johnson's name -- and he had even left a message on the young man's answering machine letting him know he hoped for a speedy recovery and to see him again sometime soon. There wasn't much Hiro could do in the situation, but he was more than happy to know that despite all the damage Dean had taken, putting on the kind of fight he did against Blackjack gave the authorities enough time to swoop in and throw the murderer in prison once again.
Hiro sighed, looking down at the table to his left, a box on it. It was unmarked, with just his name and the address of the arena written in shaky handwriting on the top left hand corner -- as if this was boxed and mailed in a hurry. It was sloppy taped up and seemed to just have a single item in inside. Hiro would pick it up and hear something rattling within, not well packed away unfortunately. He shook it a few times, no explosions coming from doing so -- couldn't be that dangerous, then. Though, for whatever reason, Hiro still struggled to open the box. He should have had nothing to worry about, his lawyer had assured him life would get easier, and the security staff had done everything they could for a few months now to make sure he was entirely safe. Still, even then, Hiro was a bit gun shy when it came to opening a surprise gift. The Ethnic Enigma would begin to pull away at some tape, ripping open the top of the box -- but his eyes were shut tight. He almost couldn't bring himself to look inside, holding his breath and squeezing away his vision. There was always a reason to be worried for Hiro the way his return had gone, and the idea of a chemical shooting out to blind him or a gas he could choke and die on was a true possibility to him...but nothing happened.
Hiro slowly opened his eyes and looked down into the box, seeing...an opened blade. His blood ran cold, the color left his face -- a fear set right back in, shock that this blade had made it through any proper channels to find it's way to him so shoddily packed into a box. Hiro held back what was a rather queasy feeling, reaching down to grab the blade which turned out to be incredibly similar to the one he'd found not long ago in his locker room, etched into that blade the name "Bader". This time, as he inspected it, he saw Fusion on both sides which no doubt represented both Avari and his father. Hiro gulped, standing from his chair and observing the blade in more detail -- much like the last one, it was similar to Blackjack's, so much so that the pain in Hiro's side would come back, but this time with a different accompanying emotion.
Hiro would begin to grit his teeth, and anger bellowing from the bottom of his heart. His lungs, which to this point in his life had fully healed, burned from the fire his both built up from the anger of memories never forgotten. What felt like thousands of fire ants crawled under the skin of Hiro as he let out a bellowing yell, slamming the blade through the wall of his locker room, sending it clear through the drywall. Hiro held the handle of the blade even still, ripping it back out of the wall and stabbing again as his now beet-red face dripped with sweat, slopping down to the ground disgustingly. He would leave the blade there, taking a few steps away before dropping to a knee with hands on the ground. He breathed heavily, the anger flowing away as he tried to regain his composure. This was exactly what Blackjack wanted, one might think -- this was his handiwork, and it was his intention to completely mentally defeat Hiro without ever needing to cross paths. At least, that was what Hiro thought to himself as he tried to justify letting the anger go to his own now tortured heart.
The Ethnic Enigma would collect himself and stand, stumbling against the wall and using it to hold himself up. He looks over at his bag, knowing it was time to get changed as No Mercy was about to begin and his match the Nuke Fusion would be opening the program. He had to make this his focus, he had to beat Nuke -- he had to give his all so the two men could move on as close friends once more. Blackjack wouldn't get in the way of that. Nobody would.
