Price leaned back in his weathered leather office chair, phone pressed against his ear, a scribbled notepad in his lap. His wiry voice carried a blend of curiosity and uncertainty as he addressed the former WWE Diva Eve Torres, on the other end of the line.

"Thanks for taking my call, Eve. I really appreciate it," he started, his words spilling out quickly. "I got thrown into this tag team match with one of your protégés, Sarah Callahan, and, well... I know F all about her. Thought maybe you could fill me in, y'know?"

Eve’s voice came through calm and measured, "Of course, Stu. I’m glad you called. Sarah’s still new to wrestling, but she’s an exceptional athlete. You’re in good hands with her as your partner."

Stu-E squinted at the name on his notepad. "Right. So... What’s her deal? Is she more of a powerhouse? A high-flyer? I gotta figure out how we’re gonna work together out there."

Eve chuckled softly, her tone warm but direct. "Sarah’s a grappler at heart. She’s been training in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu since she was a kid. She’s a first-degree black belt and incredibly disciplined, but she’s still finding her footing in wrestling. It’s not exactly her first love—more like a detour she didn’t see coming."

Stu-E leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Not her first love, huh? So why’s she doing this?"

"She had her heart set on competing in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu at the Olympics," Eve explained, her voice dipping slightly with the weight of the story. "She worked toward it for years. When the 2024 Olympics didn’t include Jiu Jitsu, it hit her hard. That kind of disappointment can throw anyone off balance."

Stu-E tapped his pen against the desk, nodding to himself even though she couldn’t see him. "Tough break. So you’re the one who pointed her toward wrestling?"

"I am," Eve said without hesitation. "Sarah’s a fighter, through and through. She thrives on competition. I told her that wrestling could be a platform for her—both to showcase her skills and maybe even help elevate Jiu Jitsu’s profile someday. It wasn’t an easy sell, but she’s got the kind of grit and focus that you don’t see every day. I knew she’d make it work."

Stu-E scribbled a note, underlining grit twice. "So she’s got the discipline. That’s good. But... wrestling isn’t just about holds and submissions. She know that?"

"Absolutely," Eve said, a hint of pride in her voice. "She’s been learning the craft since 2022. She knows wrestling’s an entirely different world—larger than life. Sarah’s still green, but her martial arts background gives her an edge. She moves with precision, and she knows how to control her body—and her opponent. She just needs to keep building on that foundation."

Stu-E sighed, spinning the pen between his fingers. "All right, all right. So... she’s disciplined, got the technique, but still new to the game. What’s she like as a person? Can I trust her to have my back?"

"Without question," Eve said firmly. "Sarah’s loyal. She’s tough, and she’s driven, but more than that, she’s got integrity. You’ll see it when you’re out there with her. She won’t let you down, Stu."

He leaned back, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "All right, Eve. That’s what I needed to hear. Thanks for the insight. Guess I better figure out how to make this team work."

"You’ll do fine," Eve assured him. "And Stu? Keep an eye on her. She’s got the potential to be something special."

As the call ended, Stu-E sat in silence for a moment, the notepad resting in his lap. He tapped the words loyal and driven with the end of his pen, letting them sink in. He didn’t know Sarah yet, but something told him she was a wild card worth betting on.

Price pushed himself up from his chair, the springs creaking in protest as he stretched his wiry frame. The conversation with Eve played in his mind, as he absentmindedly tossed the pen onto the desk. As he turned to grab his jacket from the back of the chair, something caught his eye—a faint gleam of glass in the corner of a dusty shelf.

There it was, tucked behind a row of wrestling memorabilia: a small, slightly faded photo in a cheap wooden frame. He hadn’t looked at it in a while. Stu-E stepped closer, brushing aside a tangle of cables to get a better view. The photo captured him at fifteen, his face still round with the last remnants of childhood, his hair a wild mess. He was wearing his white gi, sleeves rolled up to his elbows like he meant business, and slung around his neck was the bronze medal from the British Open Championships.

His teenage self stood awkwardly on the podium, caught between a wide grin and nervous uncertainty, holding the medal as if he couldn’t quite believe it belonged to him. His coach had insisted on the photo, practically shoving him in front of the camera. He remembered how his heart had swelled with pride that day—pride he hadn’t dared show too much of because, well, it wasn’t the gold.

Stu-E exhaled sharply through his nose, a faint smirk creeping across his face. "Bronze," he muttered under his breath. "Still got on the podium, though, didn’t I?" He chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

For a moment, the weight of time melted away. He could feel the scratch of the gi on his skin, hear the muffled shouts of the crowd, and sense the fire of wanting to be better—to be more. That same fire had carried him into the wrestling ring all those years later, though life had taken its own twists and turns since, he now stood as a World Champion.

He reached out and adjusted the frame, clearing the dust off the glass with his sleeve. The teenage boy in the photo looked back at him, wide-eyed and determined. Stu-E straightened, squared his shoulders, and nodded to himself.

"Guess this kid wasn’t so different from Callahan after all," he said quietly, the words rolling off his tongue like an old truth rediscovered. With one last glance, he turned and headed for the door, ready to figure out this tag team match—and maybe a little more about himself as the scene faded.