Where Am I?
Scene One | Off-Camera
Before he’d flown off to Normandy, Alex had sat for his first real encounter with Vita Mors. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. Things seemed more clear then. But that meeting. It changed things. He was certain that Vita Mors was James. He had the same body, the same jaw, the same teeth. But, it couldn’t have been. He remembered asking the question, the smile that came back, and then…
It was like reality slapped him in the face. He was in the ring. The roar of the crowd filled his ears and then
BANG!. He was hitting an exploder suplex on Jamie Dean. Instinct driving him, he slid into the cover. A kick out, a second suplex attempt. A school boy. It felt like he was treading underwater. When did he get there? When did he even leave the office?
Jamie tagged out, and Alex tagged Calaway. He mumbled a little as he did.
“Sorry.”And that was that. He stood on the apron, in this fugue state. Wondering where he had been. Wondering where the lost time had gone. Calaway got the pin. A short celebration, cut short by him rushing himself out of the ring. He knew how it would look. That he didn’t want to be with her. When the bell rang they were on the same page, but once the match was done…
Where was he?
“Lexi? You in there, daddy?” Luna’s voice cut through the fog. Another slap with reality. No crowd this time, no ring. Just open green fields and an obnoxiously large white monument. Vimy Ridge. More lost time. More lost memories.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m… Luna, how did I get here?” Alex asked, confusion knitting his brows together. He felt nauseous. His stomach threatened to boil over, but he didn’t know if that was because of the situation or if he hadn’t eaten. How could he have known if he had eaten?
“You don’t look so good. Did you eat something?” Luna asked, but her voice trailed off a bit. A shooting pain in his head. A buzzing in his ears. His eyes felt like they were going to pop out of his skull. He reached up, placing his hand against his forehead. Squeezing at this temple and orbital bone. Pressing his palm into his eye.
And then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye, Vita Mors. Standing near the treeline, facing toward them. His face flashing into his mind. That smile etched into his soul. The ash painted skin, his gums bright red around his surprisingly white teeth.
“Come to me, Alexander.” Mors voice bounced around his skull. Bored itself into his mind. He remembered a little bit more now. He remembered asking the question. Asking if Vita Mors was James. He’d seen beneath the mask.
“It can’t be…”“James?”
Mors just smiled. His hand reached up to his face, towards the mask. His fingers gripped, almost like they were suctioning to it. He pulled it outward, pulled the mask from his face. The shearing pain, his mind screaming at him to run. To escape. To leave.
“Mr Rabenschwarz, I can be whoever you need me to be. I can give you anything you want. I deal in the unknown, because I am good at making things happen. I can give you James. I can be, James. I simply need you to enter into a contract. A business transaction.” Mors spoke, his voice echoing around. Like thousands of wailing voices, drilling themselves into his mind.
Alex stared at where the mask had once been. Where there should have been a face, where he expected James’ face to be. There was just… nothing. Like the world beyond the window. Like the man himself. It all just seemed to defy belief. There was no face, there were no eyes, there was nothing. Yet there was everything. His father’s face, his mother’s, Luna and Lauren’s. In the void, there was everything and nothing all at once. His vision fading, his world blurring.
“Alex!” Luna screamed.
He was back in Vimy Ridge. Laying on the grass. Luna kneeling over him. Onlookers staring, mumbling, murmuring. He felt wet. And there was an acrid smell in the air. Vomit. Sensation came flooding back and in that moment he suddenly felt alive again. His mind closed those images out. The faces became one, and then none. He’d never removed the mask. He was sure of it.
“I think I need to go home, Lu.” Alex mumbled, trying to stand up. Acutely aware that he had puked all over himself. People clearly thinking him little more than a drunk. The snide remarks said behind covered mouths. Luna’s concerned eyes all he could look at. What had Vita Mors done to him?
Man of Glass
Scene Two | On-Camera
“A year ago, things all came unravelling. I spent twelve months blaming my failures on one person. Alexandra Calaway. The funny little people who think their mysterious nature can be obscured by their lies. They deem it appropriate to stick us together once more. A year in and they slog us in each other’s periphery once more. At the whim and belting of each other. A year on, and I’m faced with a situation that reflects where I started. The difference being, we aren’t in the opening round anymore. I’m not the defending champion, and I have no illusions on the fairness of those who make the calls.”
“But it’s amusing to me.”
“Amusing, how quickly they all go so silent. For months it was a joke. To insult and belittle Alexander Raven. To tear him down for his streak of bad luck. For months it was a joke to insult me. How quickly things can change. A victory here, and a victory there. In fact, it seems like an unstoppable tumbling train of wins. Both Luna and I, on an unstoppable journey towards redemption. Towards proving that we stand as the two peaks of this company. To prove that we belong at the apex. The only thing between that and where we are, is this damn tournament. A tournament, where the inevitability of the ending is a clash that we would not wish for.”
“You see, the end should be like this. Alexander Raven as the Internet Champion or Alexandra Calaway as the Bombshell Roulette Champion, stepping into the ring with the challengers Sean Parker and Luna Pasilno. The outcome is beneficial either way, but there are deadly middles that come of it. I walk in champion, I risk walking out without it. Calaway walks in champion, and I know the shark that Luna is. I know the chumming of the waters will put a target on that woman. There is no perfect world that comes out of this, but there is a possibility that stands as a golden one.”
“Escaping the loss of the championship by simply not being the one pinned? That doesn’t sit right with me. No, if Vaughn and Dahl were truly the champions they want to be. I’d say they offer both titles on the way out. Winner takes all. That’s what I would expect of champions so confident in throwing themselves into this mix. Winner takes all. That’s what should be on the line, every damn time. See there is no world in which a secondary exists. That’s what makes a workhorse, the workhorse. Last year, I stepped into the Blast from the Past, put up my reign as Internet Champion, and fell.”
“And I fell. And I fucking fell. I failed to retake it, I failed to become the inaugural Mixed Tag Team Champion, and then I failed twice. Not once, but twice, to take the World Heavyweight Championship as my own. And you know what pisses me off? I’ve worked harder than anyone to prove that I belong here. I’ve worked harder than any other fucking person to prove that Alexander Raven is worth the damn paper he was signed to. And you Vaughn. You’ve been there every step of the way. Every step reminds me of something. To attack and tear down in that passive aggressive manner you do. You, Vaughn.”“You’re a man made of fucking glass.”
“What do I mean by that, Vaughn? You know damn well, what I mean. You’re a man who prides himself upon being the top. The one who everyone looks up to, and by being the unassuming beast at the same time. Passive-aggressive and a holier than thou attitude, and you pretend to skirt along. The worst part of it all, you’ve got the skills to back it up. I know that better than almost anyone here, Vaughn. We’ve crossed paths, and we’ll cross paths again. But this time. This time it means just a little bit fucking more to me. This time, there ain’t no distraction. There ain’t no other fucking team to prance in the way and save us. This time, it is all us. You and Dahl, me and Calaway. A chance at the crowns, and a chance at yours.”
“See, Vaughn. I’ve been in your position. The only difference? I’d at least made something of myself as Internet Champion. See, you pride yourself on your Roulette Title reign, and I can respect that. I can respect that throwing yourself against Eddie Lyons however many times made you feel like it mattered. Throwing yourself at Bulldog and any other middling nobody that they deemed worthy of taking a shot at the Roulette Championship. Yeah, that’s a legacy to be proud of. Congratulations Peter. You proved that you can go toe to toe with the same people I already had.”
“Congratulations Peter, you’re holding the title that I made fucking relevant again. The title that I made the focus of the kings. Of former world champions. You’re holding what rightfully belongs to me. In the one-hundred and sixty eight days I was Internet Champion, I defended it the same amount as you did your precious Roulette Championship. The workhorse of Sin City, Alexander Raven. Fenris, Ken Davison, Austin James Mercer, three world champions to speak of. Miles Kasey, O’Malley, as contenders to the crown. People worth their salt. People worth the acknowledgement. That is the fucking legacy I left to that championship, and not a single person since has made it worth a damn.”
“Jack? A hack. The lesser Harris? Useless. Miles Kasey, at least he and King James gave it a try. But still nothing. And now, in what is technically your second defence of the belt? You’ve got me. What is it you said last time we met Vaughn? You want me to succeed right? Just not now, and never against you? Funny that. That’s the passive aggression I was talking about. The cock-sure bravado. The little bit of fire that makes you fucking unbearable to listen to. A man who hides behind the pretence of being approachable. A man who hides behind this frailty because it makes him feel more alive. You, Vaughn. You’re nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and this time? This time I’m going to expose you for everything.”
“I’m going to show why I’m the workhorse. Why I should still be the man considered for the World Championship. Why I am so fucking indispensable that they refuse to let me out of my contract. I’m going to show why the invisible elite are pulling strings to ensure that we come face to face again. To ensure that I have my championship back. So that when we make the finals, and face off against Sean Parker and Luna. That I have to give it my all to ensure that Calaway and I walk away the victors.”
“See, Vaughn. There’s this funny thing about the conspiracies I talk about. It’s funny how fate deems to bring us together once more. How it deemed to bring Matt Knox to your doorstep, once more. How, even Sean Parker is brought to your doorstep once more. Some people would say there is something in that. Hell, to bring it full circle, why don’t we find a way to bring James into this for you? Get a little something something back on that boy after he embarrassed you. When you said the same things you did to me. To get into my head. How you were going to be the one to step up to the plate. To take a shot at the World Championship. Instead, you failed there. You lost to Eddie, and in turn you’ve tried to redeem yourself with my Internet Championship. Unfortunately for you Vaughn, this is where it all comes tumbling down for you, again. Alexander Raven and Alexandra Calaway beat you and Bobbie Dahl, take one or the other’s championship, and send you back down the totem pole.”
“I’m banking on it being us, Vaughn. I’m banking on us being the ones to tie it all up. Because I don’t want to give the pleasure to anyone else. I don’t want to give this up. Whilst you were having a match with Miles Kasey, I was showing everyone what I am willing to do. Whilst you’ve lounged around doing fuck all for the last month, I was on the show every fucking week. I was hurting people, I was playing the fiddle. I was making people see what I needed them to see. So, when it comes down to you or me? I’ll tell you this, Vaughn.You ain’t half the bitch Ben Jordan was, but I hate you even more. So if it comes down to it? I’ll break your pretty fucking face all the same.”
“If I have to twist the rules just a little bit. If I have to sneak a few extra liver shots in. If I have to somehow find a way to staple a fucking picture of a hand drawn dick to your face. I’ll do it, Vaughn. I’ll do all of it, because I want to see you succeed. Truly, I do. Just never against me. I want to see you succeed Vaughn, just never at the cost of my sanity. I want to see you succeeded, as long as your success puts you beneath my boot like the scum-sucking filth that you fucking are. I want to see you succeed as long as success is painted with your blood. I want to see you succeed as long as it brings about the despair of those who would see me fail. I want to see you succeed, Vaughn. Just never in this place again.”“But don’t you think I’ve forgotten about you, Bobbie.”
“Oh, there’s no way I could forget about you, Bobbie. You’re part and parcel to my downfall. The woman who stood alongside the proverbial thorn in my side. Who… Where is Jack these days? Maybe I was right. When things get a little too tough. When things don’t quite go his way, he runs. I’ll give him credit, he stuck around just a bit longer than I expected. Stuck around long enough to belittle me just a few more times. Stuck around to question my merits. How much of him rubbed off on you, Bobbie?”
“How much of Jack Washington stuck around on the incorrigible Bobbie Dahl? How much of Jack Washington do you hold to your chest? How much of Jack Washington do you keep in yourself, to get you through the days? I think there’s a certain… beauty in what is to come. See I like to keep apprised of the goings on around here. Luna won the Roulette title, lost it to Jessie. Jessie lost it to Alexandra Calaway and she lost it… to you. That was the second embarrassment for Alexandra Calaway at the hands of Bobbie Dahl. I expected she could handle you last time, and we were both made to look like morons for it. Idiots who trusted too whole-heartedly in the other to get the job done.”
“I came up short, I lost it all. I spent the year recovering, and now? I’m still the same smooth talking, rambling mad man. I’m still the same incessant prick. The difference, Bobbie. The difference is that I want to tear the whole fucking world down. I’m not simply taking down those who want to see me fail. I’m not content with just ruining things for the corporate father’s. The executives in suits who think humanity is beneath their very thumb. I’m not content with being their whipping boy, and that. What does that mean for you, Dahl?”“That means a world of fucking hurt.”
“A different situation, a different outcome. This time, there are no illusions. I know what to expect from Peter Vaughn. I know what to expect from Bobbie Dahl. I know what Alexandra Calaway is capable of. The only thing none of you truly know? What this current version of Alexander Raven is capable of. We saw just a fucking taste of what is to come when I tore apart Ben Jordan. I’ll rip apart every aspect of a person’s life, if I have to. I’ll hurt everyone they’ve ever cared about, if I need to. Jamie Dean wasn’t able to avenge his friend. Peter Vaughn won’t be able to avenge his fallen Saviors, and Bobbie Dahl? Bobbie Dahl will be exactly what I always said she was.”
“A non-factor and a failure of a competitor.”
“We walk in the challengers, and either myself or Calaway are walking away… champions. This little journey of yours Vaughn? It ends here. You’ll get your ass served to you by the man you never wanted to see succeed. You’ll get your compensation title taken from you, and you’ll do exactly what you always have. You’ll crumble like a smashed pane of glass, and run away. Hide your head beneath the sand, and cry foul. Because nobody could stop the magnanimous Peter Vaughn. Nobody could beat the man who is so understanding. Except… I’m not a believer in your horseshit.”
“And this time, Vaughn. This time, Dahl. There is no given. There is no manipulation of fate and chance. There is no outcome that is beneficial for you. This is simply my word. We walk into Climax Control, and we walk out. A championship heavier, though it should be two. You get wheeled out, a championship lighter, though it should be two. Vaughn can walk away, tail between his legs knowing that he just isn’t good enough. Not good enough to succeed when Alexander Raven is fully focused on him. Not good enough to even be in contention with Finn Whelan. Just another cog on the wheel. And then, just like everyone else. They will all know one fundamental truth.”“The Conspiracy is here.”
“Are you listening to me yet?”
Next Time
Scene Three | Off-Camera
He’d ruined their date to Vimy Ridge. They’d not had much time together since the tour started. Luna had gone over early, he’d hung back. They’d met up in Normandy, but in the spirit of fairness, she’d been trying to spend her free time getting to know Sean Parker. He’d seemed above board, so Alex didn’t really mind. He wasn’t inherently the jealous type. He never could afford to be, even despite the past.
He woke up at some point, hours after they’d got back from Vimy Ridge. Showered, his clothes taken to be cleaned. They were curled up in bed, wrapped up in each other. She hadn’t even taken her make-up off. Alex stared at her, for the first time feeling in control of himself again. Not fearing another fugue state. His stomach rumbled, but he didn’t feel nauseous anymore. Throwing up on oneself was apparently enough to stop that.
He pressed his nose against the top of her head, his lips to her forehead. Placing a gentle kiss as he breathed deeply. He was used to losing a few hours. Months ago Sullivan and Harrison had gone playing in his head, and as a result, he sometimes just… lost time. Lost memories. Like an alcoholic, who teleported from place to place. It wasn’t uncommon. But this time… This time he’d lost days. Weeks even. Moments of lucidity, crawling underwater in his own mind. Things were not okay.
He kissed her forehead softly, and rolled over. Swinging his legs out of bed. It seemed like the sun never set in France. It was seven and the sun was still lighting the world up. It was an odd feeling. It made adjusting to the jetlag a little rougher than anticipated. At least… it should have. Was he even jetlagged? He had no way of knowing.
He stood up slowly, pulling out his phone. He assumed that he and Calaway hadn’t spent time together after the match. He had no real way of knowing. He barely remembered leaving the arena. He pulled her number up, his finger hovering over the call button. Thinking the better of it, he opened the messaging app instead.
“Hey, sorry we haven’t had a chance to sit down and chat. And sorry for being out of it during the match. There’s been some… strange things. I’m feeling better, so come this week, I’ll be good. I promise. If we get a chance, we’ll sit down after the match. Have a celebratory drink. Maybe get to know the Rabenschwarz’s outside of the ring. You’d be surprised how much… nicer, we can be.”He typed out the message and hit send, sighing heavily. Raiding the bar fridge of the hotel room, he pulled out a Kronnebourg, popping the top off it. He took a long drink, draining almost the entire bottle in one go. The calming factor washed over his body. His eyes cast out to the world beyond. He owed Luna a proper date. To make up for… whatever today was. He closed his eyes, rubbing them for a moment.
And where the empty balcony had once been, a man now stood there.
Vita Mors now stood there.
His head pounded again, but he felt in control of himself. Throwing open the balcony door he stepped out and spun the man around. James’ face stared back at him. None of the emotion, cheek or otherwise in the eyes. A walking corpse one could say. Yet there he was, staring into his soul. A warm smile that did not stretch any further than his mouth.
“I’m sorry our last encounter didn’t go so well, but I figured I should check in on you. How are you feeling, Mr Rabenschwarz?” Vita Mors asked.
Alex answered with a fist across the jaw. Smacking the man square across the mouth. And then again, and again. The third stopped by a hand around his wrist. Mors’ smile faded, and he leaned forward. He had impressive strength despite the lack of effort of exertion being shown.
“What the fuck have you done to me?” Alex grumbled, trying to pull his hand away.
“Simply what we agreed to, Alexander. You promised to lend me your body for a short while. I promised to give you closure. Unfortunately, it seems your mind was weaker than I expected. Did you know you are prone to bouts of psychosis? Very unfortunate.” Mors mocked, slowly releasing Alex’s wrist. He turned and stepped away, moving further onto the small balcony.
“I didn’t agree to anything.” Alex said, shaking some blood flow back into his hand. His fingers still curled up, balled into fists.
“Part of the deal, I’m afraid. Some people, such are yourself. The effects are… more potent than expected. In time, you’ll get your mind. For now, know at the very least. Nothing untoward happened. I simply… learnt of the world. Alas, my time here is short.” Mors said, turning to look out at the sun. Seemingly unphased by the brightness.
“I don’t want this. I don’t want anything to do with you. I don’t want you wearing my friend’s fucking face.” Alex yelled, backing up towards the balcony door. Just wanting this all to be over. Mors simply shrugged and held out a hand. His fingers flexed towards the sun. Nothing seemed to happen, but it was strange all the same.
“I got what I needed, Mr Rabenschwarz. Unfortunately, for you to achieve your just dues? We cannot part ways just yet. I am beholden to the contracts we enter into. For better or worse. We’ll see each other again soon.” Mors said, turning to look at Alex once more. Bringing his hand up to cover his own face. Almost like he was wiping the slate clean.
And then, in no more than a blink. Vita Mors was gone, and Alex was alone. Standing on the balcony, alone.
“Lexi? You feeling better, lover?” Luna’s sleepy voice came, her arms wrapping around his waist. His body was stiff, but loosened in her arms. He was losing his mind. He had to be.
And then…
