“It’s an interesting turn of events, that bring us here. After being away from the ring for as many years as I was, I faced a man. A man, who thought himself the modern day incarnation of Lord Shiva. One of the most important gods of the Hindu pantheon. This man so sure of himself, believed himself equal to that of the pinnacle of godliness within his own culture. Like all False Gods who have walked and will walk before me, I lifted him high, and brought him down on his neck. Broken was the man who felt the crushing power of the Raven’s Spine. Broken was the False God who stepped to the False Prophet. Broken was the man who thought himself the equal of the Broken Messiah. Broken was the man who stepped to the One True King and was forced to face the reality, that he was not an equal to my kingdom. It’s only fair, that standing in this land he held so dear. It’s only fair, that I come to pay my respects. Yet here in the Kanheri Caves there is only reminders of the past. Unfinished paintings of the Buddha himself on the ceilings. Complex monuments, thousands of years old. The only thing older than these beautiful and powerful images of worship, is the damn repeating words of that faithful, Bulldog.”
Alexander Raven finds himself sitting upon the mossy stone steps of one of the entrances to the Kanheri Caves. Large stone pillars extend far behind him, the low light of the setting afternoon sun casting a vague amber glow over the area. Intricate carvings of stone figures dot the nearby wall separating the steps from the flat to one of the cave entrances.
“Truth, is what I have been speaking. Truth, is what I have been showing. I showed Finn that the truth of my word was stronger than the false nature of his sainthood. Not only did I put him down for the win, to win my crown. I then solidified myself as the king. Silencing the howling wolves and taking the yapping, slobbery dog to the pits. Speedo Barnhart, if you will, is nothing more than a bag full of hot air. Blustering, windy and lacking substance. A smart man without brain is nothing but an idiot with a plan. Bulldog reminds me of men who think themselves far smarter than any other. I’ve spoken of psychopaths before, compared idiocy to idiocy. Psychopaths think themselves so much smarter than others, yet are only escaping their justice by sheer ineptitude of those tracking them. It isn’t that the psychopath is intelligent, it is that the path laid before the investigators is one that makes little sense. Broken and jagged, like the mind of one lacking in the intelligence to understand their own bluster.”
“Old man Speedo, is a psychopath. A man full of ideas and false ideologies. Overly confident, yet with no substance. He has learnt now, that the game is now set in my favour. Success is in the hands of the king, and the king has deigned to execute this sinner. Barnhart, Bill, Speedo or Bulldog, it matters not what moniker you use to distract from the fact of the matter. The fact that you and I, both know the absolute truth of the situation. The absolute truth, that here in the land of multiple deities, prophets and guiding figures, that I am under your skin Bulldog. That this time, there is no balance in play. That this time, the odds have been fixed and this table spins at my whim. I am the dealer, and this time my foot is upon the pedal. No matter the bet, no matter the game. This world of chance and mystique now lays in the hands of the One True King. He who will throw the stones that will shatter this house of stained glass lies.”
“Alexander Raven.”
A few voices carry over the air, muted conversations lacking substance. Raven raises a hand to the sky above him, tilting his head back to stare off into the sky beyond. Raven is in nothing but a muscle tee, covered in upside down crosses and black birds on a grey canvas. Maroon shorts, tattoos exposed to the world. Slowly Raven lowers his hand as he stands, turning to walk towards the cave entrance slowly. Taking each step with purpose, the slightest of limps indicating some mild discomfort still lingering.
“A wounded bird will seek to protect itself. Ensuring that it is safe to recover. Often the bird will seek refuge in the safety of the hands of a caring human. A more powerful figure, willing to nurse and care until the bird can once again fly. Though it may never repay the favour, it will forever remember the lesson of its injury. Take the offer of help when it is given, but stay no longer than is safe. Speedo Barnhart, you once offered me a chance to prove myself. Failure followed me twice, and like the wounded bird, I fell. Unable to beat my wings, I continued to fail. Hurt, and collapse. It seems to elude everyone that my shaky beginnings do not speak for the success that follows me. Everyone is focused on the bad, yet refuse to acknowledge the truth. The truth, that in less than a year in this company, I have taken the crown. In less than a year in this company, I have beaten former world champions. I have challenged and taken to the limit those who are respected and held aloft by all others. In less than a year, I have ensured that every person in this incestuous mixing pit of inescapable intermingling, knows who I am. Every single member of this Sin City knows the man who is throwing the stones. Who is setting the explosives, and who is shaking the foundations of this stained glass temple. The greatest stories are those that find a resolution and success following a time of difficulty and struggle. They mock and they belittle, but the truth is, everyone is watching.”
“All eyes are on the man who can speak his way into the pantheon of success. All eyes are on the man who proclaims himself the False, Broken and Truth. Reality is that no matter the falters of the broken wings, the snapping of the hungry beak, and the tearing of the flesh that comes with it. Understand this, I am nothing but the truth I proclaim to be. Truth that you know to be the reality of this world, Speedo. You know better than anyone, at this point momentum carries the bold to victory, and in the victory of the bold success begets success. Momentum, Bulldog. You had it, now you’ve lost it. Finn had it, and he lost it. Miles… Miles has never had it. Truth hurts I suppose. Your focus is everywhere and nowhere at once, Bulldog. A psychopath gets lost in the details, and the excitement of their own world. You, Bulldog, get lost in the fact that you can’t see two feet in front of your eyes, before you need to proclaim yourself a genius once more. You get lost in your focus on the past, because your present is lacking. You get lost in the ideology of your former, because you cannot comprehend a future without it. The structure of this city of sin sustains you, and yet you see it. You see it crumbling, and you know. You know that I speak the truth. The truth is this, Barnhart. You will fall beneath my boot, you will fail to regain what little relevance you’ve had, and with that. With your failure comes the defining moment of truth for you. You aren’t as good as me, you aren’t as good as your adversaries of ages past. And you definitely will never be as good as the men you have surrounded yourself with.”
Raven slowly walks into the cave entrance. A small cave chamber lays beyond, the walls filled with basalt monuments of figures of worship. Tilting his head upwards, Raven points to the ceiling. Paintings of the Buddha cover it, but remain seemingly unfinished. A piece of art, never to be completed. Raven closes his eyes as he stretches his arms upwards, gesturing to the unfinished artworks.
“Our business is unfinished, yet in this coming clash, it will be done. No more will people question, no more will they doubt. In putting you down Bulldog, I rectify the falters of the past seven months. This year started will my fall at your hands, Barnhart. Half way through it, I will ensure that my crown is firmly affixed my head. Your blood will pave the pathway, and the truth I have spoken will become your reality. Your reality will no longer deny the aspects that I have been putting to you. Your reality becomes my reality. The Conspiracy will fall upon you, and this time, you will be the carrion that feeds them. Instead of stones, I will throw bone. I will throw your failing body into the stained glass, and I will shatter the foundations once more. Truth, Bill, and the reality that comes of it. I will finish the artwork of our story. I will finish that which remains unfinished. Success will paint my reality and in my reality you do not stand to me. No more will you bluster and boast. The wind deflated from the windbag, and in turn, success for the once injured bird.”
“I hope, that you can put your ignorance aside for a little while Bulldog. I hope that whilst here in this land of spiritualism, deities and deep culture you can learn to accept that of which you do not understand. For the truth is far beyond your reckoning, Bulldog. I hope you get to see the River Pyres in Varanasi. You’ll understand the power that rebirth brings to a phoenix who falls to its own flames. You’ll understand the truth that I have been putting to you, for months. You will understand, my truth. Look to the river, bloated with bodies, and you’ll see the forgiveness I offer. For in forsaking it, I will feed you to my Conspiracy. Pick up and cast the stones Bulldog. Shatter the stained glass lies of this city of Sin. Shake the foundations and see a future not tainted by those who strangle the life from this, this Sin City. Here in the land of gods, be a man.”
Raven smiles widely as he allows his arms to fall back to his side. He turns on his heel and begins to walk deeper into the cave, slowly disappearing into the basalt and stone beyond, before vanishing from sight. Blackness fills the scene, the sound of crackling flame filling the darkness. A funeral pyre slowly comes into view in the blackness, the only source of light in the dark. Burning up on the pyre, are many different pairs of speedos.
Symbolism.
And then...
Silence.
Darkness.
Nothing.
