On the home front, he learned how to cook, although working as a chef wasn't a good fit. Making the same bland food a hundred times a day wasn't for him, but creating his own concoctions has been a lot of fun. And usually tasty. (Heather keeps plenty of ketchup in the apartment, though.)

What he'd talk about most from the hiatus is Guitar Hero. It seemingly became a fixture in his life. Jake has mastered the two games, first left-handed and then the regular way. He's joked that his fingers are stronger than Blake's now.

Despite the distractions, there wasn't a day when he didn't want to wrestle. Jake's tape collection grew faster than when Mercury was active; most of it is Dynamic Dream Team (he wishes the ex-champion ladder would come out of retirement), but wrestling is wrestling. Every match he watched gave him a stronger craving for the ring.

He never stopped training, as if he were still competing. The thoughts of getting in a gym were what powered him through the day jobs. Not having actual matches in front of him led Jake to increase the regimen. Now he can bench more than he ever thought was possible, but the biggest advances are in his legs and abs. He would wear ankle weights on his daily cardio runs, a long series of 20-second sprints. One of his various workouts was clutching a barbell and doing upside-down situps.

Eventually he was exhausting himself so much that his 'workrate' dropped off, thus why he started losing jobs frequently. Thankfully, Heather made the move she did, before he self-destructed.

So, little Jake Stephens was back in the ring, on the indy scene. Only he realized he wasn't so little after all. The Lethal Academy had instilled a level of skill and toughness that other 'schools' could never give their students. Even when shedding the ring-rust he was already ripping through opponents.

Not that he won every match. Plenty of these federations are known for inexplicable interference and little to no ramifications for breaking rules, so sometimes it was a cheap run-in. Sometimes his partner in a tag match dropped a fall. Or sometimes he'd make a big mistake.

Multiple times, he got rolled up after missing the Longshot moonsault legdrop. He gave up on the tricky and blind maneuver in the middle of 2006, opting for easier and quicker top rope attacks to keep an advantage rather than go for it all. His usage of high risk itself decreased. Gradually he felt the smaller paydays weren't worth the risk, literally.

First the Crimson Wave became his standard finish, but aside from a few competitive matches, it felt boring winning with it. Executing the move is always fun, but he wasn't proving anything by beating more random people with it. He started making a habit of that oh-so lauded psychology he ignored in Mercury. Jake mostly aimed for the shoulder to set up the Unsung octopus hold, the tilt-a-whirl setup now an exception for tougher opponents. He added a grounded variant that even the fattest of Samoans couldn't beat!

There was something missing in his arsenal, though. Reviewing his win against Blake, the best match of his career, he knew what it was. His knees won him that match. If he could find more ways to use them, and train them better for attacking in general, it'd be a great step forward for young Jake. His knack for ingenuity solves the first one. He solved the second by scouring dojos along the road of his bookings, claiming to be 'a friend of Geoffrey Slate' (getting lots of laughs for an obvious reason... He got more laughs for claiming to be 'a friend of Lucas Nazareth' for a different obvious reason). Eventually his exuberant personality moved one trainer to take him in for a small time, and Jake learned a few basic muy thai practice drills - dealing with eye coordination and balance in the strikes - to throw into the daily routine.

Everything on the athletic level was tight, but the budget of being an independent wrestler with a girly in law school was getting tighter. It hardened him a little. Out of necessity, Jake had to ask for more money and title opportunities from promoters. He lost some good connections and better friends, but it led to his first 'world' championship. Jake would never call himself a world champion unless he had one belt in particular, but this was huge. At least, at first.

The almighty dollar forced him to continue asking for pay increases, and he used the belt as evidence. The company took that as a threat, perhaps rightfully so. The owner and the locker room conspired on a fateful night, and Jake was beaten badly and lost the title in brutal fashion. The unsuspecting fans enjoyed that main event for it's 'realism'. Unbeknownst to them, his belongings in the back were vandalized as much as his body and his pride.

Later than night, bloody and cold, he actually found his bags in a dumpster outside the building. They reeked of urine and everything of worth was stolen: money, cellphone, car keys, etc... Except the engagement ring remained in a secret compartment. On the worst night of his life, Jake thanked God.

Failure crept over him afterwards, though. What does he tell Heather? He f*cked up again. He didn't know if he should pawn the ring to get home, or just wallow away in this random town and hope to die. He came upon a few quarters that night from strangers, and finally decided to call home to give her the shameful story.

Before he could, she told him of the call from Beaumont, the call that changed his life after it was just changed once.

Money was wired to get him home, and a legal battle is afoot as the company is hiding behind their lawyer. Heather's first court victory will be a swift one.

- - -

So the hiatus was kind of interesting for Jake, but the past year and a half isn't on his brain. Mercury is back. Jake was made to wrestle in Mercury, and that's the last place he felt comfortable. The deja vu is in the air. This is a restart, and the first match is a mirror from Jake's start. He honestly doesn't know what Jin and Kiyoshi have been up to. He honestly doesn't care.

All he knows is he'll be a better partner for Harbinger this time, and he must prove he belongs. Everything else, past or future, doesn't really matter right now.