Forgiveness
Scene One | Off-Camera | September 19th, 2022
Fawkner Memorial Park was a sentimental place for Alexander Raven. He didn’t visit as much as he used to, being across the world attempting to escape from his problems made it difficult. Yet, a trip home was what he needed. He needed to sit with her and just talk with her. Apologise for the millionth time, and ask for her guidance.
The low afternoon sun painted a low amber light across the sky. A brisk wind floated through the air gently whipping the flower petals and leaves that dotted the paths. A small plot of land lined with paths of headstones. Alexander Raven was sitting in front of one, slightly off to the side of it. ‘In loving memory of Lauren Rabenschwarz’ was engraved on the ornate white marble.
“To Live in the Hearts
Of those we love
Is never to die.”
He held a white lily in his hands, twirling it in between his forefinger and middle finger on his right hand. His eyes cast high to the sky.
“Sorry, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Lots has changed in the last year. I know it’s not exactly what I promised to do, but I know you’d be happy for me. I’ve been… happy, you know? I got to experience some more of the world. Some places you always told me about, some places that… that I wish we had been able to visit.”
His voice croaked a little, the words seeming to catch often. A deep grief lingered still, but a warmth as well. Alex stretched himself out a little, extending his legs. A knee bent upwards, his elbow resting upon his kneecap. He moved the flower beneath his nose and inhaled deeply.
“I brought you a flower you hate. I thought you’d appreciate it. Even in death there is no escape from the torments you know.”
A small chuckle and a smile. Followed by a deep sigh as Raven slowly closed his eyes.
“I know you’ve been watching. I had to come, to come and say sorry. I know I promised not to… lose myself again. It’s hard, you know? It all starts as fun and games. Messing with people, riling them up, getting them emotional. But at some point the lines blur. I guess I should be used to it at this point. We both know that I can’t help myself. The worst enemy of Alexander Raven, is Alexander Rabenschwarz. Obsessed with being anything close to that which I preach. I just. I had to make a stop in, you know? Ask for your forgiveness in person this time.”
He smiled more, a softness washing over his features. Relaxed as the wind picked up and roared through the row of graves. Flowers lifted and thrown to the merciless wind. Alex’s hair and beard were rustled every which way.
“I miss you Loz. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about you. Hell, I think everyone knows that now. Sorry, I know you were always private. But, I never got to share you with the world when I could. So now, now I must. I just hope you can forgive me, you know? I’ll keep asking, I’ll keep asking for the forgiveness. I’ll do my best to get better. To become less of the false. I’ve got some good opportunities you know? I’ve pissed off a bunch of people; but I don’t think it’s bad. I’ve got a chance at something big this time. It’d been so long since I’d held any level of accolade, and now I’ve got the chance to stand at the top again. It’s kind of worrying, I know. I know…”
His smile slowly fades as he lowers the flower from his face opening his eyes again. Storm clouds were beginning to roll in quickly and the first drops begin to fall. Classic Melbourne weather. He slowly begins to stand up, dusting his pants off of the grass and dust.
“I got you something, but… I think I’ll hold onto it for now. Just a little longer you know. It’ll mean more if things turn out how I want. You’ll love it, I just know it.”
He slipped his hands into his hoodie pocket, holding them together tightly in front of himself. His eyes watery, tears beginning to form and threaten to break free. He lifted his head to the sky once more, looking straight up as a heavier stream of rain began to fall. Thirty minutes from now, it’d be all clear again. But right now, the universe wanted to taunt him. Classic Melbourne weather.
“I gotta check in on James too. I hope he comes to visit you. He always liked you, Loz. I’m glad you guys were friends. I’m glad you were my friend. I’m glad you chose to spend what life you had with this ratbag kid from the other side of the world. I’ll always be your king. I just gotta get the crown for you again, you know?”
A flash across the sky, a crack of thunder. The rain coming down in a heavy sheet of droplets now, the sky dark with angry grey clouds. All tinge of the late afternoon sky now hidden behind the clouds. He smiled once more as he continued to stare up into the sky.
“I love you, Lauren.”
Slowly he turned away, turning his head to face the ground, flipping his hood up. He was in no rush; happy to be soaked by the sudden thunderstorm. Another flash of lightning and the sound of rolling thunder in the far distance. His footsteps muted as he slowly walked away.
Of Gods and Men
Scene Two | On-Camera | September 20th, 2022
“Freedom to hunt.”
An empty bar, daylight trickling in through the gaps of the windows with tint sheets pasted to them. A pool table sat idle, a blue surface. It was bare, the balls hidden away in the internal compartments of the table. A couple bar tables sat off to the side of it, with a long bar top alongside it. A well stocked bar extends several rows back at bar top and top shelves. Sitting at the bar, a bottle of Jameson and a squeeze bottle of an unknown liquid sitting next to a set of shot glasses. In front of the glasses, sitting at the bar, Alexander Raven. A snapback on his head and turned backwards. His eyes closed.
“After my failed Indian tour, I needed to take a break. I needed to reconnect with myself. Go back to where it began, if you will. I talked a lot about other people through my journey. I spent my time focused on and thinking about other people. Miles, Finn, Fenris and even my former love. In my talks of the lack of focus of others, I lost mine. As quickly as I had won it, I also lost the Roulette Championship. Does it cut me? A little. I believe in a constant. The better man wins on the night. Yet the better man is only better in those three seconds. It’s a truth of our business. Of our industry. It takes but three seconds to change the face and course of history. Focus, is the difference. In my talks of focus, I allowed Miles to be the better man. I understand it now. The ravenous dogs who claw and fight. The colour-blind moron who who only shows emotion when it comes to instigation. The pup who hides behind the betters who can fight his fights. For in their fighting comes the distraction needed. Whilst he bides and focuses, he becomes the better. Whilst the detractors detract, the better becomes the unfocused.”
He lifts the bottle of Jameson and tips it, pouring it into one of the two shot glasses.
“Ken, have you ever had a pickleback? They are a staple of my regular night out. Hell, they are regular staple of almost every person that ever attended a bar I was slinging drinks from. It’s nothing special. A shot of Jameson, followed by a shot of pickle juice. I’m partial to making it a little more zesty. A bit of hot sauce into the pickle juice, it’ll really open your head. Sinuses cleared, eyes watering. It’ll get you feeling alive. Do you feel alive, Ken? I wonder. I would think you are feeling more alive than you ever have before. The new king of the Sin City. All eyes on you, and at the same time, so many voices already vying for the attention they so rightly feel is there’s. Similar voices begging for your attention, that bother me deeply. The same voices I am constantly feeling berated by, demeaned by and reduced by. The wolves swirl at any scent of blood, don’t they? You know as well as I do that whoever walks out king has the scent of death painted upon them.”
Placing the bottle back on the counter, he lifts the squeeze bottle and squirts it into the second empty shot glass. He replaces the squeeze bottle on the counter top, and takes the shot of Jameson into hand, throwing it back, before quickly following it with the second one. He hissed slightly, before breathing out slow and heavy.
“It’s not the first time we’ve crossed paths, Ken. Though the crown is different, to be King for a Day is our goal once again. The ascent is different, and the longevity of reign dependant upon the success or lack thereof of each other. A few countries, boat rides and plane trips later and we find ourselves locking horns for the apex of this Sin City. We fell short in that land of Mythology. I fell short once again, in the land of rebirth and gods. You however, you changed your path. You changed your destiny. Whilst the wheel fate spelt a failure for the Broken Messiah, it donned the Godly one with a new crown. You took down ghosts of your past, and in doing so you cemented yourself. Ken Davison, the new Worlds Heavyweight Champion. The Broken Messiah, a false prophet once more. But you know the danger in that, don’t you Ken? You know the danger in a man who has naught to lose. A man who has everything to gain, and absolutely nothing to lose. Nothing to prove and everything to become. An unbalanced scale is what lays before us. Heavy is the weight of expectation. It’s humiliating to play into crazy Alexander Raven’s mind games. Nobody falls for them, nobody cares. Nobody listens, do they Ken? They all tell me how much they don’t listen, and I expect you will be no different.”
Raven gets to his feet slowly, pushing his stool against the bar. Slow, determined steps towards the pool table. He brushes his hands along the tops of chairs that sit tucked under a row of tables opposite the bar. He swipes up a pair of gold coins that sit on the edge of the pool table, sliding them into the coin operator.
“Little Alexander Raven. All he does is blather on and on. Talks and talks. A whole lot of bluster for not a lot of action. Focus on the failure is easy for those who want to nitpick. Focus on the lack of, is easy for those who need nothing but the failure to accentuate themselves. Less than twelve months to become Roulette Champion, but nobody will care for that statistic. No, Ken. They’ll just look at the failures along the way. They’ll ignore that I’ve stood toe to toe with yourself before, with Austin before, with Fenris before. They’ll just acknowledge the failures. Dangerous beliefs, Kenneth. Very dangerous. It’s easy to overlook the man who seems incapable. It’s easy to ignore the potential danger in the man who is nothing but a laughingstock. Will you break the rhetoric, Kenneth? Will the Godly one look upon the first person put before him and laugh? Or will you take to the challenge. Ensure that your first outing is one of power. Ensure that you prove the naysayers wrong and throw the beaten prophet to the wolves?”
The clatter of balls falling into the chute fills the air. Alex slips his fingers into his left pocket, pulling a lighter free. He turns to look over his shoulder, nodding to someone unseen, before rounding to a set of stairs leading upwards. He begins his climb, pulling a cigarette from the packet in his rear pants pocket.
“No, I want you to understand something. Truth, prophecy, messiahs and gods. Wolves and effigies, spirit animals and otherwise. All the talk, all the words. They are irrelevant. At the end of the day, there is one simple truth. Is your desire to win stronger than mine? Coming home reminds me of many things. No matter the words and no matter the analogies. No matter the metaphors the truth is simple. Who desires victory more? It’s been a long time since I was Worlds Champion. Nearly ten years away, and in less than twelve I’d already claimed gold once more. In my first twelve months inside the ring, I had betrayed my mentor and become the World Champion of that company. His desire to beat me upon return, was stronger. He had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. I had everything to prove and I failed. Fast forward a few years and I find myself working with my former booker once more. I became the inaugural Worlds Champion there. My first set of outings after a multi year hiatus and I’d claimed gold once more. Everything to lose once more. My own teammate, the chaotic bull that he was. He had everything to gain, everything to prove and nothing to lose. Down goes Alexander Raven once more, and he loses everything. Mocked and belittled once more. It was easy to laugh at Alexander Raven when you’ve got nothing to lose.”
Reaching the top of the stairs, the area opens out to a rooftop bar. A glass window separates an unoccupied kitchen adjoined by another bar, the selection predominantly rums. Tables and little alcoves dot the lower deck area, a faux grassed area up another couple steps. The click of flame, the sizzle of the cigarette igniting. Raven inhales deeply, the red glow burning brightly.
“I do not envy you, Kenneth. I do not envy you, because I understand what it is like to be in your position. Fresh off a career defining victory. Silencing the doubters and in some ways putting an end to a chapter of your life. In others it’s the beginning of your New Testament, an end to the Old. Is the Godly Ken Davison of today, better than the one of yesterday? I ask because I wish to know. I ask because I know what it is like to be the one who has to risk everything. Your desire has to be greater than the man who has nothing left. Your desire to stay at the top has to be better than man who wants nothing more than to spite and spit in the face of those who would laugh at him. To spite those who would call him the underdog. To spite those who would doubt his potential. I desire nothing more than to make you the Alexander Raven of his Maiden year. Over confident and prone to collapse. I want to be the Griffin Hawkins to your Alexander Raven. I want to be the Corey Bull to your Alexander Raven. I will be the Alexander Raven to your Ken Davison. And you will know, just like all the others. That there is truth in what Alexander Raven says. There is truth in his blustering. There is truth in his rambling.”
Alex inhaled deeply, his eyes cast outwards over the balcony ledge. People walked the city streets below, the general roar of mid afternoon traffic filling the air. Raven closes his eyes, and just quietly smokes, allowing his silence to fill the air. A hand goes up to his hat, readjusting it on his head. After a few minutes he extinguishes the cigarette into a small little bucket acting as an ash tray.
“Kenneth, I want you to have the same desire as me. The same desire to succeed. The same desire to silence the biting and snarling pups. The unfortunate reality however, is that whoever loses, becomes bait to those baying wolves. Austin James Mercer we both crossed paths with him in the lands of Mythology. In that land of war and history, democracy and acceptance; we crossed paths with him. The man who now wishes to gun for your championship. The man who now wants to gun for your success. My eyes are set upon the White Wolf who feeds into the crying of the flea ridden beasts. Both of us baiting angry, aggressive dogs who need to be spayed. The truth, Kenneth. Is I need what you hold because it gives me the power to do what I need. To shatter the stained glass lies of the City of Sin that we fight for. To rattle the foundations and change the truth of everything. I want to change the perception of these groups and reveal them for what they are. That their deep grip on this City of Sin is nothing but a lie. I will change the truth. I will fix the delusions by cleansing the incestuous pervading filth. To fix it, I need to become part of the problem. Fixated and connected with the unmoving grip of focus. Those who stranglehold this company with their refusal to allow change. I upset them, because I force change. I disrupt the control that they have and shatter the work they’ve done. I am the change, Kenneth. Not you, not anyone else. I am the change.”
Alex shakes the small ash tray slightly, to fully extinguish the cigarette and begins to make his way downstairs once more. At the bottom of the stairs, he moves to the pool table. A pool cue leans on the edge of the table, the white ball set in the centre of the D line. On the windowsill, another two shot glasses. One filled with dark liquid, the other with a translucent looking liquid. Alex takes the pool cue in his left hand, lifting the first shot glass to his mouth and downing it. Replacing it on the sill he follows the dark with the translucent and grimaces slightly.
“Back to basics, Kenneth. Focus, desire and nothing to lose. This will be my defining moment, I know it. I want you to understand that when we lock up. That when we stand across from each other and you put your dignity on the line against the contemptible and ignore Alexander Raven, I do not hate you. I do not resent you. For you, you enact the same change I seek. Yet I do not trust it to the hands of the unknown, and in the unknown is you. Nothing can stop it. Nothing can stop the descent of the Conspiracy. Nothing can alter that of which becomes the truth. My truth. The fundamental truth.”
Alex moves to stand at the end of the pool table. In the middle of the table, the black ball. No other balls on the table, just the one. Alex lines his cue up, pressing the tip lightly against the white ball. He slowly draws it back, leaning down to get almost eye level with the table.
“Fundamental truth is this. Every time I say something, they scream. They cry and they fight. They belittle and the demean. Yet despite Finn’s inability to tell brown from red. Despite Miles’ “who me” attitude, and despite the she-devils incomprehensible difficulty in understanding her lack of consequence in my life. It is outside the lair of wolves, when the lone white one, that issue takes form. We’ve locked up before, we’ll lock up again. I want you to listen, Fenris. I want you to listen too, Ken. Hell, I want every damn one of you to listen for once. Austin James Mercer, Fenris and godly one. Finn, Lachlan and Miles. Every fucking one of you. I walk in to the Three Hundred and forty second edition of Climax Control a mocked and bemoaned thorn in your proverbial behinds. I walk in off a loss to the pup of the flea ridden mongrels. I walk in, as I have many times before the understood underdog, mocked for my undoings. Mocked for falling short time and time. Yet I walk in as I did against Finn. I walk in expected to lose and I intend to walk out…”
“King!”
The tip of the cue cracks against the white ball, sending it flying across the table. Slamming into the black ball. The black ball flies free from the table and cracks against the wall, smoke instantly releasing and obscuring the view. It swirls and swirls, before slowly dissipating, being replaced with darkness.
“They always hear. Have you been listening?”
“I need you to listen.”
“I need you to understand.”
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.
