A Conversation With The End
Scene One | Off-Camera
Alex wasn’t entirely sure what was compelling him to meet with Vita Mors. He wasn’t particularly thrilled by the Wit Trial draft party that had been held at the towers. There were too many moments that it reminded him of the months he had lost his mind. Kaleidoscope dreams, visions of a reality with a loving father. Ghosts that felt more real than all the others that plagued him. There was something about this Vita Mors that really put him off. So why was he sitting there in the lobby of the bizarre towers? He wasn’t quite sure.
His mind needed to be focused on the Blast From The Past. There was a certain sweet irony in the world. A repeat of last year. Deja vu some might call it. The only difference this time? Alex had nothing to lose. There was no dominant Internet Championship reign at risk. There was no Jack Washington to act as his foil. In fact there were a few people that were owed a receipt for prior embarrassments.
Mark Cross had fallen at his hand in recent times, but there was unfinished business to be concluded there still. Peter Vaughn, so confident in himself, had said words that remained under his skin. That it was never going to be him. That whilst Vaughn was around, Alex wasn’t ever going to be the man over him. And that didn’t sit right. Yet, despite all that. Despite the fact that he should be across the ocean catching up with Luna after her showing in the opening round. Despite all that, Alex was here. Sitting in the lobby of Vita Towers, waiting for a sit down with the illusive owner himself.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
‘Alexander Calaway’ was the name that came up. It made sense. Despite it all, if they wanted any chance at it, they needed to at least be able to be around each other. But he didn’t answer for now. He let it go through to voicemail. He’d listen to it later. The tap of leather shoes on the pristine floors. He’d say they were polished marble if he didn’t know any better. But the trick of the con-man was to make all appear more than it actually is.
“Thank you for waiting, Mr Rabenschwarz. Mr Mors will see you now.” Ashton Mire said. Alex still didn’t like looking at the man. No level of tailor made suits, slicked back hair and attempts at mopping away the greasiness was ever going to make him think positively of the guy. Or this situation in general, for that matter. He reminded him far too much of Sullivan Pleasant, and that was not a good thing for anyone trying to get his business.
“This better be good. I really don’t want to be here.” Alex said as he got to his feet slowly. His body was still somewhat feeling the effects of the street fight. Not that he would ever admit it, but truthfully, he was held together by glue and tape at the best of times.
“I assure you, I am certain you will find some benefit in this meeting. Almost everyone does.” Ashton said, attempting to reassure. Something was off about him today, more so than in their previous meetings. He seemed paler, and sweating a little under the collar. Like he was suffering from a migraine, but was doing his best to push through it.
Alex simply let out a long sigh and waved his hand, indicating for Mire to lead the way. Ashton smiled and stood to the side, showing the way toward the nearest elevator. The two of them fall into step beside each other, but moving in mostly silence. He felt his phone buzz again. A message this time.
"Raven, I left you a voicemail. Listen to it. Let's meet up and discuss our strategy for the Blast from the Past Tournament. This is our chance to shine. - Alexandra"Alex sighed and shook his head. He intended to touch base when he got to France. He’d been thinking about making that call, but it just hadn’t panned out. There was a resentment in his heart that stopped him from reaching out. He’d get back to her eventually. Probably when he did land in Normandy. Things were just a little bit busy right now.
“Can you give me a moment? I need to listen to this.”Before stepping onto the elevator he placed the phone up to his ear, playing the left voicemail.
“Hey, Alexander. It's Alexandra Calaway. I know, I’m the last person you want to hear from, but..”She took a deep breath.
“Look, I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but I wanted to talk to you about the Blast from the Past Tournament. This could be our chance to break out of the rut we've been in, to show everyone what we're truly capable of if we team together one more time. I know we can do this. Do you really want your legacy to have that red stain of our loss?”She pauses, gathering her thoughts before continuing.
“You and I both know that we're forces to be reckoned with in that ring. Together, we can create something incredible, something that'll shake up the entire wrestling world. But we can't do that if we're stuck in our own heads, doubting ourselves. I’ve moved on from all that bullshit, have you?”Her tone becomes more urgent, a hint of frustration seeping in.
“So, I'm asking you to get off your ass, Alexander. Stop dwelling on the past and start focusing on the future. We have a chance to make history, and I refuse to let that opportunity slip through our fingers because of pride or ego. Be it yours or mine.”She takes a deep breath, her voice softening.
“Think about it, okay? Give me a call back when you get this. Let's do this, Raven. Let's show them all that last year was a fluke. That we are the best.”Closing it out on his phone he shook his head again a little. Mire simply stood there smiling at him, waiting for the go ahead to step into the elevator. Alex looked down at his phone, and sent a simple message in response.
“Got your message. Will talk to you after the match. Kick Shay Owens head in, and I’ll choke out that nothing bitch Jamie Dean.”They stepped into the elevator. The sheer copper bronze colouring of everything was beginning to hurt his head. The longer he was in this place, the more his eyes hurt. The more his head hurt. The more everything seemed to be pushing down on him and trying to crush him. He pitched the bridge of his nose as the elevator rocketed upwards. Despite the size of the building, he felt like he was riding the damn thing forever.
“If I can make a suggestion, Mr Rabenschwarz. Have you ever heard the Nietzsche quote? ‘If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.’ In this place, in this world. That has a far more literal meaning.” Ashton said, turning to look at Alex.
He’d never realised how bizarre it was for someone to face the wrong way in an elevator. To face inwards, or away from a door. The things he was saying didn't really make sense at that moment. They didn’t really make sense to him at all.
“You guys are a few acorns short of a forest, aren’t you?” Alex said, holding the bridge of his nose still. The elevator finally came to a stop, and it felt like a cloud lifting from his head. Like the popping of ears, the pain washed away.
“Please, be careful Mr Rabenschwarz.” Ashton warned, as the doors opened.
Alex stepped out into a far more muted office. Dark corporate greys and blacks. Unnecessary indoor chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A large desk, and standing beyond it was the mysterious enigma known as Vita Mors. Like the cult-icon he was meant to be. A heavy robe hanging loose on his shoulders, his grey ashy skin. He was facing away from Alex, looking out a window that seemed to look out onto… nothing.
Absolutely nothingness.
Looking at it made that pain rush to his head again. His eyes demanded to stare at it, but his brain screamed at him to stop. Mors held up a hand, and waved him forward. Waved him toward the window. Towards himself.
“Alright, what the fuck do you want?” Alex said, walking forward. Forcing his eyes down. Forcing them away from the expanse of nothing.
“Mr Rabenschwarz. Please, do watch your language. Words have power, and I do not wish to see you misuse them.” Mors said. His voice was lighter than he expected. More gentle than the imposing otherworldly figure would seem.
“Do you believe in the impossible, Mr Rabenschwarz? Infinite universes, infinite possibilities. Times and universes where James did not pass in that hospital. Universes where you got to hold his hand as he faded into nothingness. Do you believe in these things, Mr Rabenschwarz?”Alex stood there, dumbfounded. Everything in his body screamed at him to leave. To ignore the prattling of this creature. Yet, he found himself seemingly rooted to the spot. Unable to think about actually moving, let alone leaving. Fucking space wizards.
“What I offer, Mr Rabenschwarz, is insight. The chance at being something more. The chance at reaching into times and places you never even thought possible. Benevolence is not my aim, but in some ways it seems to be that. Please, do me the service of hearing me out.”Mors turned around, turning to face Alex. His mask obscured all but his mouth. It was odd…
There was something strangely familiar about his jaw. His teeth. The shape of his face. The more he looked, the more it seemed that Vita Mors was someone he knew. His shoulders, his chest, his height. Even his voice was somewhat familiar.
“It can’t be…”“James?”
Conspiracy to Manipulate
Scene Two | On-Camera
“Conspiracy. That’s the tale of the tape for Alexander Raven. Conspiracy is what guides me, because there is without a doubt, a fucking conspiracy against me. See, Ben Jordan was made to see the truth of it. Though I would have loved to have put him out to pasture, leaving little Samantha Marlowe without a known return. Possibly ending her career, well. That puts things in a little bit of perspective. It reminds people that just because you want to see The Conspiracy torn down. It doesn’t mean you get to come anywhere fucking close to doing it.”
“Reminders. That’s what it was all about. Reminding people that The Conspiracy means fucking business. That when we threaten to tear someone down, we do it. That when we threaten to rip someone apart, we fucking do it. That when we put down threats, they are paid in blood. Ben Jordan was made to realise that just being good at the ol’ graps, wasn’t going to be enough. That the message was as important as the journey. That the decisions were just as important. And the conspiracies come full circle as a result.”
“See there are two instances of convenient fate that have occurred this year. A repeat of what had happened, just one year earlier. Once again, Alexander Raven and Alexandra Calaway are teamed up for the Blast From The Past tournament. A year on, and I’m not any better off for it. Failed challenges for the World Championship. Failed attempt at reclaiming my Internet Championship. A slew of failures and roadblocks, and yet. Here a year later, I’d hazard that there are few people that think anyone but Alexander Raven is going to be the man who steps into the ring with Finn Whelan for the World Heavyweight Championship. In fact, I doubt there is a single person who thinks that any other person deserves to be standing across the ring from Finn Whelan. That is the money match. That is the marquee match. That is the only match that fucking matters in Sin City Wrestling. So let’s look at what is before us as mere formality, shall we?”
“See, I think there is something to be said about the way that those who are in power want to keep me oppressed. It becomes harder and harder to deny the fact they are attempting to fuck with me when we are presented with a situation like we have here. Alexander and Alexandra teamed up and in the opening round we have Shay Owens… and Jamie fucking Dean.”
“Oh, how poetic it is that we are face to face once more Mr Dean. You were part of my crusade. Part of my journey. Part of my message to Ben Jordan. Some may call what I did cowardice, I’m not of that camp. No, you made the mistake of thinking you were safe walking into my fucking ring. You made the mistake of being friends with a target of my ire, and you got lucky that all I did was choke you out. Ask Samantha how it feels to be on the opposite end of The Conspiracy. Ask her what the outcome is for those who continue to ally with those I disdain. No, Mr Dean, what I did to you was little more than a necessary action. A necessary behaviour. A necessity in life. I made you relevant.”
“Relevancy is all that matters, isn’t that right? That’s what everyone always tries to tell me. That I’m suddenly irrelevant, and that being irrelevant, they can overlook me. That my failures are just par for the course, because that’s all that matters. Relevancy is all that fucking matters in this little industry of ours, which makes me wonder about you, Mr Dean. It makes me wonder, why are you here? Are you just another obstacle placed in my path? Another thing put in my way to stop me from achieving what I need to achieve. Another part of the manipulation and control of the invisible hands to manipulate and put me down. You are just part of that, aren’t you Jamie?”
“But that’s okay. I understand this incessant need to infringe upon me. To pretend like it’s the whims of fate that put you before me, that put Alexandra Calaway at my side. It would have been far less interesting for all involved if they had simply put Luna and I together. No, that would have been far too convenient of an outcome. The opportunity was there for the most prolific match of all time. When Luna and Alexander Raven won the Blast From The Past tournament, they challenged Finn Whelan and Kayla Richards to a Winner Takes All match-up. The Blast From the Past winners, also the The Conspiracy. Taking the Worlds Championships in both divisions, and the Mixed Tag Team Titles all in one fell swoop. That would have been too convenient.”
“No, instead, we have this. We have you and me, Mr Dean. We have Calaway and Owens. We have nothing and everything. You being nothing, in case you were wondering. But that’s okay. I don’t resent you for simply being. I don’t resent you for being part of their game. I don’t even resent you for not realising your part in this play. What I do resent you for, Jamie. Is that you have the audacity to prance your way into my world once more, and try and ruin my world once more. Prance your way into my world once more and act like it is your god-given fucking right. There is nothing given, Jamie. Nothing given, and nothing taken.”
“But, but, but, but. It’s okay. I am happy to show you the truth once more. I am happy to make another example of you. I am happy to show you what you clearly haven’t understood. A conversation with Ben would've shown you the truth of your failings, and yet. Yet you continue to walk into the flames and act as if it is your right to do so. And so, I will show you the truth of your failings. I will show you the actions that lead to your nothingness. I will show you that being a king in name does not make you a king in my world. Call me delusional if you must, Jamie. But I will break you.”
“But I haven’t forgotten about you sweet little Shay Owens. No, I know of you. Interesting isn’t it? You were a Triad hopeful too. A failure of a hopeful, but a hopeful nonetheless. I know of you Shay, and that’s not a good thing for anyone. Because those who come across my purview? They are broken for it. They are hurt by it. They are put in their place for it. Though it may be Alexandra Calaway that need put your in your fucking place, it is Alexander Raven that will break you if need be. Manipulation of the rules. Manipulation of the ring. Manipulation, that is my role.”
“So, Shay, let me ask you something. Are you truly prepared to step between those ropes with a killer? Are you truly prepared to step into the ring with people who do not care for your well-being? I wonder, Shay. I truly wonder. But it does not matter.”
“All I need to know.”
“Have you been listening?”“The Conspiracy is here.”
