A Proposal of Convenience
Scene One | Off-Camera | 7th December 2023
Sometimes it was nice to just forget about life for a day. For a moment things felt peaceful. For a moment there wasn’t the impending doom of choice and action. World Championships meant nothing when you took a moment to yourself. For a moment, the hole he had dug himself was nothing more than a scary thought. Counting clouds was peaceful, even in the night. Even when the clouds were little more than a smear on the skyline. Even when the clouds were just apart of his own collapsing mind. There was a peace in the moment that was free of the agony of the day to day.
Alexander Raven was sitting in a chair on his apartment’s balcony. The night was dark, and the sky was full of grey clouds. A cold breeze ripped through the air, but it didn’t bother him. It was refreshing to feel so chilled. To feel so alive in this very moment. In one hand a half-finished beer, the other was just resting on a small table next to him. An overflowing ashtray, and a concerning number of empty bottles. A simple black tee, and maroon skinny jeans. A pair of bear-foot shaped slippers. A symbol of fashion and excellence clearly. His eyes fixed on the sky, drawing images into the dark blobs up there. Connecting the stars to create new images, new faces, new creations. For a moment, peace.
Days.
Days is all James truly had left. His body was on the brink of complete collapse, and they’d been told it was time to consider putting him out of his misery. It was an impossible decision. An impossible decision for his sister and his friend. Alex knew that James would not hold it against them, regardless of the decision. But it didn’t make the impossible any easier. It didn’t make the choice any easier. In fact, the fact that they had no choice was ruining them. There were fewer and fewer distractions, and they’d come to understand now. That there was a very real possibility that they would walk into the next year, without James. There was nothing to be done. He raised the bottle to his mouth and drank deeply. Drinking what remained of it. Placing the now empty bottle on the table alongside all the others like it. A deep breath, a heavy sigh. The peaceful moment was slipping.
The door slid open, as Luna came out. Cigarette hanging from her mouth, her eyes raw from a fresh session of tears. Alex stretched his hand out but didn’t move his eyes. Staring into the sky. She lit the cigarette and then took his hand. Instead of taking her own seat, she sat in his lap. Straddling him, as she buried herself into his neck, hanging over his shoulder3. Despite all the negative, the situation had brought them ever closer. She’d not taken off the necklace he’d gifted her since coming back. She’d even been looking at ways of breaking her lease, to move in with him full-time. She wanted to be closer to Duchess, the poor dog had been working overtime to keep them from imploding. Keeping them grounded and reminding them that there was still something to enjoy at the end of the day.
“James couldn’t wait to see me wearing a white dress one day. To be the one to hand me off on my wedding day. It had never really been my dream, but now. Now I can see the happiness in such a thought. Something happy.” Luna mumbled softly, her voice a little raspy. The stress had started to make her sick. Both of them really.
“We could always rush things. Just us three. A Vegas wedding, without Vegas. Not the same, I know. But it’d be something.” Alex spoke softly, his free hand going up to her hair, gently running his hand up into her hair.
“Okay.” She whispered, and nodded, pulling herself tighter to him. Pulling her hand free to wrap her arms around him. His eyes widened a little, a brush of surprise. Just a month earlier, the idea of marriage seemed so far away. Was it even really a wedding? Was it just some way to make themselves feel better about the inevitability of what was to come? It didn’t really matter in this moment. There was a moment of peace.
“I’ll organise things tomorrow. Try and organise for it to happen on Saturday. I’m sure his doctor will let us. Let us have our final moment.” Alex said, a slight bit of happiness to his tone. It may have been momentary, brash and rushed. They may come to resent and hate each other in a few months and be divorced. But really, it didn’t matter right now. They needed something happy. They needed something hopeful. They needed to be okay.
“I love you, Lexi. Thank you for being everything to us.” Luna spoke gently, a plume of smoke billowing over the top of his head. He wrapped one arm around her, reaching up with his other hand for the cigarette. Wrapping it around her in turn he placed it to his lips and inhaled deeply. Partners in bad decisions, alcohol and escaping reality. They truly were made for each other it seemed. He looked up into the sky once more. A cloud that vaguely reminded him of his mother. He’d once thought Lauren to be his mother reborn. The more time had passed, he’d come to resent that view. Resent how simple that thought had been. There was so much of his mother in all three of them. In himself, in James and especially in Luna. A surrogate mother for her, yet there was her peace in Luna. A gentleness that even after hardening himself for so long, thawed him out.
“I told James, that once everything is over. That when I’m finished spilling my blood, I want to go back. Back to Australia. Back to the bar, and freedom and peace. To be in a place that wasn’t filled with memories of failure, of violence. Back to our place. Our freedom. I want to go home, Lu.” Alex said gently. Luna sat up and looked at him dead in the eyes. Face to face with him, mere inches away.
“I’d like that.” Luna said, a smile on her face that didn’t reach her sorrowful eyes. She’d tried to be so strong for him at first, but now. Now they were both just unrelenting sorrowful messes. “Want another?” She nodded her head toward the empty bottles. Alex smiled and nodded as Luna slid herself off him and stood up. Stretching her neck a little she slid the door open and went back inside. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Who would be messaging him at this time? He pulled it out of his pocket and looked down at the screen.
’Harrison Rines’.
It was strange for Harry to be messaging him. Normally he’d only talk through Luna or James. They’d never seen fully eye to eye, but they’d been somewhat friendly at least. Tough love and all that. He pressed his thumb to the reader and unlocked it. ‘I’m sorry for what has happened, but I know who shot James. I’m back in America for a week. We should talk.’
There was a shot of pain in his chest. His heart ached.
Two Outcomes
Scene Two | On-Camera | 8th December 2023
An empty street, a lonely bench on the footpath. A disappearing line of streetlights, illuminating the road all the way into the horizon. Sitting on the bench, Alexander Raven. Head in his hands, he seems to be battling with himself. Battling with his own mind.
“I’ve backed myself into a corner. I’m good at that. See, arrogance tells me that I can be the best. That when it comes down to it, when my back is against the wall. I know that I’m good enough. Strong enough, fast enough. That when it comes down to a matter of life or death, I’m the one who is going to walk out with my head held high and an array of new scars to wear as badges of honour. I’m confident in this, because I know what it’s like to scrap. To fight, to brawl. I know what it is like to bleed, and to beg. I know what it is like to be on the other end of an unrelenting beating. I know what it’s like to be the beaten and downtrodden child who spends every day hoping tomorrow will be the day my arms are strong enough to fight back. That my fists are hard enough to win. I know what it’s like to be the scrapper, because I’ve always been the scrapper. So my place of comfort is in that violence. My comfort is in the blood, in the gore, in the scrapping and brawling. I’m not a technical god, and I’m not the most skilled wrestler. I’m aware of who I am. I’m the guy who you get in the ring with, and I’m going to beat you every which way. I’ll step to your game, and hope that my fists are just a little bit tougher than yours. So when J2H offered me the opportunity to pick our stipulation. My first instinct was violence.”
“I wanted a display. Something to stack the odds in my favour, because I’m certain of my ability to withstand the punishment. I wanted glass, barbwire, weapons. I wanted to see him bleed, leak and flop about like a gutted fish. But the more I thought about it, the more I doubted myself. What if you weren’t as fragile as I was thinking? I mean, I’d already been proven wrong once before. The two best men at the end of day, and I was second best. He’d already proven that he was willing to go the whole ten yards with Michael Harris. Credit where credit is due, J2H can go. He may not be wrestling every week, but when does. He makes it count. So that doubt started to creep in. Wondering if I was good enough. If it was worth giving me another chance. Then something inside me clicked. I heard another person make the same remark that Jack Washington has been making all year. Peter Vaughn made comment about the opportunities handed to me. In fact, it seems like everyone has it in their heads that I am handed golden opportunity after golden opportunity. That I’m constantly put in this position of being opposite the world champion. Bald faced lies, but it didn’t stop them from pretending it was the truth. Third time’s the charm, and that is what this is. I was one step short against Ken Davison. Austin James Mercer was there to see that I was continually one step short. The next opportunity? The six-pack challenge. The challenge where I proved I could step to the best of the best in this company. And that the only person I was second to that night, was you James. The only one I wasn’t better than, stronger than. The only person that had better cardio, and more desire to win, was you.”
He lifted his head up and stepped into the empty road. Standing in the middle of it. Heavy shadows cast over him from both sides. Obscuring his face in the cloak of their shadows. He lifts his arms, extending them out to each side. His left hand with the palm facing upwards, the right hand with the palm facing down.
“They lit this fire in me, with their accusations. And the only person who wasn’t accusing me of being in a position I didn’t deserve, was you. Of everyone the only person that offered me even the modicum of respect that I have earned, was you, James. And that confidence came back, just not in the way I was expecting. No, as much as my mind screams at me to take this to my place of comfort. There is something that I can’t see either of us doing. Giving up. Some might question why I would go for something like an I Quit match, or similar. But I think this is far more in the wheelhouse of us both. It gives me that slight edge, without devaluing what happens. It wasn’t enough though. It wasn’t enough to choose Submission only. It wasn’t enough to pick a match type where one of us must give up or pass out. It wasn’t enough to simply put the belt on the line. All risk and no reward. Failure from me just meant that I’d have to spend another year listening to the same people bitch about my opportunities. The same people that got back-to-back-to-back opportunities and squandered them every time. The same people who have done nothing with their opportunities. No, I don’t want to go back to listening to those same people bitch and moan. I don’t want to hear them complain about opportunity afforded to me, that is a straight out lie. I worked my fucking ass off to get here. I’ve been here every single time they’ve asked me. I was here when I wanted out. I’ve been here whilst my best friend, who unironically is also called James, lies in a hospital bed on the brink of death. I’ve been here doing what is asked of me, for a chance to prove. To prove that I am the guy in Sin City. That I am the guy who everyone can put their support behind.”
“So I made a choice to offer something to ensure that whoever wins, walks away as the guy here in Sin City. I win, I prove all the fucking naysayers wrong. I walk out of this year as the World fucking champion. I walk out as the man who stands at the apex of the fucking mountain and looks down upon the filth who squabble and squirm. I stand here not just as the Napalm Kingslayer, but as The Forgotten who will never be erased. I want the best J2H that there is. I want the man who doesn’t just want to put me down, but to put me out. So I put my offer on the table. Submission Only, and if I lose. I walk away. Not just for a day, not just for a week. I take my boots off; I pack my bags and I go home. I go home and sulk. I go home and let the naysayers have their day. I go home, and never come back. I win, I become the guy. I win your respect. I prove that I’m not second best to fucking anyone. I lose, I go home.”
The lights flicker for a moment, casting the world into darkness. A few long and dragging moments past, the croaking of raven birds filling the air. Then a snapping sound and the streetlights on the left side of the road come back on. In his left hand, a card. The King of Hearts.
“I called you both my Ace and Joker last time we crossed paths, James. Arrogance maybe, underestimating you proved to be my mistake. I took every other person in that match seriously. I saw myself as the man who didn’t belong, but I mocked you. I thought of you as the ace, but also the joker. The man who thinks himself on top of the world, but still a step short of true success. I looked at you with clouded eyes and I was made to see. Yet, despite that. I got under your skin. From your own admittance, Alexander Raven got under the skin of J2H. The opposite is true as well. I live with my emotions on my sleeve, visible and seen to the world. I don’t pretend to be well-adjusted; I don’t pretend to be emotionally stable. You got under my skin just as much James. Fixated and focused, I was obsessed. No longer just the Ace and Joker in one. No, you had proven yourself. The King. The King of Hearts. A man with all the heart to fight, and all the bravado of a stalwart king. The joker? That belonged to me. Alexander Raven, The Forgotten one, the Joker. I like to think of myself as the ace. As the workhouse. As the man to beat, and I’ve gone a long way in proving that to be true. I am the man to beat. I proved my worth when I run through a cavalcade of talent. Austin James Mercer, Fenris, Ken Davison, O’Malley, Miles Kasey. All current and former champions, most with world title accolades. But at the end of the day, it’s just bravado. I’m good, but Fenris once put that grain of doubt in my mind. Called the Internet Championship a secondary title. That he didn’t want to be second best. I asked him, second best to fucking who? Here we are, at the end of the year. And I now must prove, that I’m not the joker. That I am the fucking Ace. That I am not second best. I am the best. All that stands in my way is you, James. I keep going over things in my head. I wonder if things will go the way I want. I wonder if I’ll win your respect. I wonder if I can do what I plan to do. The only thing I know for certain is that there is no chance in hell I give in. There is no chance in hell I let you simply walk all over me. There is no chance in hell I go down quietly. So I ask this of you, James. Are you ready?”
The lights flicker and then go out once more. A strained few seconds. The croak and cry of more birds, of the ravens. Then the lights come on, on the right side of the road. A stopwatch hanging from his hand. His eyes distant and hollow. His lips pulled in a tight line.
“Time. It’s all a matter of time. We walk towards an inevitable end, and someone is going to lose it all. Time will tell, and in that. Our peace. I’ll either be free, or forever tormented by failure. You’ll either come to respect me, or you’ll laugh in the face of my arrogance. Laugh at the time I wasted to be nothing more than second best. Time, James. Times is all we’ve got left. At December 2 Dismember. We’ll see the end of this all. I’m willing to go the distance, James. I’m willing to choke your ass out. I’m willing to do what I need to walk out as the World Champion. To be the man who holds the world in his hands. I’m ready to be respected. I’m ready to prove that I am the fucking workhouse of Sin City Wrestling. To be the man walking into next year as the top of the mountain. To prove every fucking naysayer wrong. Time will tell all, and as the clock ticks, know this. I am more than just another body. I am more than just another arrogant nobody. I am Alexander fucking Raven, and I will not be forgotten. I will not be silenced. I will not be made to walk home with my tail between my fucking legs. At the end of the day, when it comes down to it. If it’s you or me, it’s going to be me every single time. If you’re not ready, if you’re unsure, if you think that this is another easy win. I need you to reconsider. I have everything to lose. And I won’t let it go to a man like you.”
And then the world is plunged into darkness once more.
“The Conspiracy is here.”
And then…
The Truth
Scene Three | Off-Camera | 8th December 2023
“Thanks for coming, Alex. Harrison said gruffly. He’d grown out his beard and was looking a bit heavier than he once did. Less focus on staying in shape. That wasn’t to say Harrison was out of shape, just not as defined as he once was. Happily living a relaxed life, rather than one of being on the edge of violence and crime. They’d met at a café, somewhere public but not too public. Somewhere where Alex couldn’t get too over the top with his reaction. Somewhere where the truth when revealed would mean he would have to stay calm. Cool and collected.
“We’re getting married. Luna and I. With you back for a bit, if you wanted to be there. We’d appreciate the support.” Alex said softly, lifting a cup of coffee to his lips. He inhaled the steam deeply, trying to push the ebbing throb of a headache away. Luna and he had drunk a few too many the night before. The sun was punishing his eyes and head this morning. Harrison laughed a little and banged a hand down on his leg. He seemed more relaxed these days. Even if the conversation to come was unlikely to be a pleasant one. “Just tell me where and when. Gotta see my Lulu off into a terrible union firsthand.”
Alex sighed and shook his head. He could have done without the berating today. It wasn’t particularly high on his list of positives. He straightened in his chair and locked eyes with Harrison across the table. They both nodded a little, acknowledging the matter before them. “I wish I didn’t know about this all. I wish I wasn’t on the other side of the world. I think you would have a pretty good idea of who the culprit is.” Harrison spoke softly, his voice hushed. Alex kept his eyes locked with him, his mind running in every direction. There was only one person he could think of. Someone he had actively been seeing at every turn. A guilty conscience perhaps? That night, when he was sitting there. Wiping up the blood. Cleaning it up. There had been so much blood. And a visitor. Alex shook his head a little and narrowed his eyes.
“Sullivan.” Harrison said, harshly.
Frustration, anger, rage. Everything built up in him. He could feel the heat rising in his face. The blood pumping in his ears. His head hurt. His vision narrowed, clouded. The smiling fucking cheshire cat of a man. That skeleton wearing skin. The bedraggled bastard who had mockingly sat there and talked the night away whilst he cleaned it up. Cleaned the blood that had pooled onto the floor. Had sat there and watched as he relived that moment over and over. Relived watching his friend bleed out onto the bar floor. That bastard had sat there, and fucking watched. Watched as he cleaned up his actions. “I’m going to kill that fucking rat bastard. I’m going to wring his fucking neck and mount his fucking body over the bar.” Alex grunted out, hissing his words.
Harrison nodded and lifted his mug to his mouth. He breathed out heavily and took a deep sip. Swirling it a little after a mouthful, he replaced it on the tabletop and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Sul blamed James for our split. I found out a few things. He had cheated on me, Alex. After twenty fucking years together, the bastard cheated on me. James found out, turns out it was with one of his ex-flings. Threatened to tell me, if Sullivan didn’t end things. I’d rather have known the choice. I would have broken his fucking neck myself.” Harrison spoke matter-of-factly, but there was obvious anger there. He was frustrated too. Seems like their world was falling apart simultaneously, and it was the result of a man they had trusted. Someone they’d worked with, shared drinks with. Sullivan had been their friend.
“The rat bastard confronted James. The first shot was in the leg. Shot him outside the bar. James being the bloke that he is, decked him clean across the jaw and told him to leave. He didn’t. Followed him inside and shot him again. Clean in the gut. Sloppy work, I think. He didn’t realise you were there. He would’ve wanted James to suffer but die there. That’s his style. Make him physically hurt, like he was emotionally. Didn’t account for you. But he just had to fucking gloat. Got drunk, told me the truth over a call. Thought I would stay quiet. Stay away. I liked James. I fucking love Luna. I might not have seen eye to eye with you, but you didn’t deserve that. None of you deserved what that fucking cunt did.” Harrison grumbled more, his hands curling into tight little balls.
Alex looked at him, suddenly all the heat was fading from his face. Harrison had a firm look on his face. There was something uncanny about it. Something intimidating. Something… dark. “I’m going to make things right, Alex. We were always bad people. Regardless of everything. But if you and Lu can make a go of it. I think the best outcome has been reached.” Harrison said, eyes locked with Alex’s. He was going to do something stupid. Regrettable. Dumb. As much as Alex wanted to kill Sullivan, there was this part of him. But he wouldn’t do it. Beat him bloody? Sure. Force him away forever? If he could. Yet, he knew Harrison. He knew what he would do. What he was capable of. Harrison would kill Sullivan.
“Harry. Don’t do anything stupid.” Alex said softly. Harrison smiled and stood up. He threw a twenty down on the table and turned. Waving over his shoulder. “Time and place, Alex. Let me know.” The tap of his shoes as he walked away, bounced around in Alex’s head. Bounced around behind his eyes. Everything was falling apart.
He just wanted it to stop.
Till Death
Scene One | Off-Camera | 10th December 2023
He sat there on his balcony once more. Staring off into the night sky. The hospital wasn’t particularly pleased at the idea of having the room having multiple people. It was hard enough to convince them let him sit in there, let alone have himself, Luna and Harrison present. Harrison had gone and got himself ordained, so that he could at least be there as the person authorising the whole thing. There was a part of him that felt a bit… lost in the whole situation. They’d get remarried again one day. With people, friends and the whole shebang. A proper honeymoon, and the rest of their lives.
This was for James. Really, it was for them to feel better about it all. It was a chance to give him a happy memory before he slipped from this world. It was about giving them a moment with him that they could hold on to. Rushed as it felt, it felt good too. It felt right. He sat there, looking into the night sky. A glass of white in hand, his attempt at keeping his mind clear. His attempt at keeping everything above board. At staying lucid. At keeping focused for what was to come. His phone buzzed, he pulled it out and turned it on. A message from Harrison. ‘I’ve got your wedding present. I’ll take you after.’ And then a photo followed. Sullivan Pleasant, sitting in a chair. Not restrained, but clearly feeling trapped. Bruised face, a blackened eye. Harrison had worked him over already.
He sighed deeply and put the phone away, placing the glass on the small table beside him. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs, placing his head in his hands. Every part of him told him to tell Harry to let him go. Every part of him screamed that something bad was going to happen, and they had a chance to stop it here. Every part of him. And then he heard it. The shatter of a glass, and the gut-wrenching cry. He leapt to his feet and threw open the door. Tore through the house and into the bedroom. Luna was slumped on the floor, a shrieking mess. He knelt and slipped his arms around her, lifting her to her feet. Getting her away from the spilt water and shattered glass. Away from the immediate danger. Placing her on the end of the bed, he knelt in front of it. Looking into her eyes.
“Harry told me.” Luna whimpered, racking in shallow short breaths. His mind started to turn, started to spin. What had Harry told her? That Sullivan was waiting to be told the ways of the world somewhere? That James had been shot by Sullivan? What had Harry told her? “Harry told you what, Lu?” He asked softly, taking her hands into his own.
“The hospital isn’t going to let us do it. They aren’t going to let James out, and they aren’t going to let us do it there. They won’t let my fucking brother see us get married. They won’t let him have one more fucking happy memory before…” Luna whimpered somewhat before another gut-wrenching cry. She really could give banshees a run for their money. A wash of momentary relief came over him and he smiled. She just stared at him incredulously and shook her head. “I know. We got things pushed back a little, but. We’re going to do it. One doctor thinks some fresh air might just be a good idea for our battler. We’re going to take advantage of the time. Take advantage of the moment.” Alex said, smiling. She sniffled, the waterworks finally coming to a stop. Of all things for her to have wailed about. This wasn’t the one he expected.
Hours passed, the night grew deeper, and soon the sun threatened to creep above the horizon. She’d gone to sleep soon after, happy with the soothing. Happy with the ideas. Today was the day, today was the day they’d make it official. He was happy, but he was also sad. Sad that another day meant that there was one less with James. Chances of recovery at this point were less than a single digit. A week, maybe two. Every day counted. Every day.
“A second marriage? Aren’t you just the shining example of the modern man.” That familiar voice came. He’d been doing better. Seeing fewer, hearing fewer. The ghosts of the past were doing their best at keeping quiet. Couldn’t expect the good times to last forever, he guessed. He rolled over and saw the far too solid form of his father. Staring down at him, smiling. He always had a great way of being uncomfortably close. Alex turned and placed his feet on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed. Luna seemed fast asleep, but probably wouldn’t take too kindly to him conversing with his dearly deceased. Especially on a day that was going to be so important. “I wonder if Lauren is smiling or turning in her grave. Do you think she’d ever be okay with you doing this? I think she’d be quite resentful.” His father said, the mocking smile to accompany the bitter words. Alex sighed and stood up. Moving to the ensuite, closing the door behind him. The reflection showed himself, and his father now leaning against the closed door.
“I wonder what I ever did to be tormented by such a foul man, in both life and death?” Alex grumbled under his breath, turning on the tap. Moving to wash his face. “You killed me, remember? I only exist because you can’t forgive yourself. I wonder if I’m here because you are thinking about doing something incredibly stupid again?” Alex’s Father mocked, sneering as he did so. Alex thought about it for a moment. His mind drifting back to the night before. Drifting back to the thoughts of what Harrison was offering him. Despite every part of him screaming to tell him to let it go. To let bygones be bygones and suffer in the knowledge of what he had. There was a part of him. A part of him that wanted to hurt Sullivan. A part of him that wanted to kill him. To ensure that there was not a world where he got to live, if James didn’t. So maybe his father was right. Maybe that was why he was staring him down, here and now.
“Your mother loved Luna. I didn’t particularly like them, but your mother loved her. I guess at least somebody is happy with your decisions.” His father mumbled, moving to place his hands on Alex’s shoulders. Squeezing them. Even if it was all in his mind, there was something peaceful about it. As if his actual father was attempting to be supportive. Delusion, most likely. But that was just the way it was. He had to live happily in delusion, because reality was too fucking scary. “I hope when it all comes to an end. That you get replaced by James and Lauren. No more torment, just people who loved me.” Alex whispered, dropping his head a little. Staring down into the sink. Laughter filled his ears, and then silence. Just the sound of running water filled the air. Silence.
A deep breath, a heavy sigh.
He really wasn’t ready for this.
End of Days
Scene Two | On-Camera | 14th December 2023
“There was this idea for a long time. This idea that I liked the sound of my own voice. That I ran on and on because I had nothing important to say, but wanted to twist the words to make it seem like I did. I almost believed it at one point. I had all these things to say, my whole game was around getting under people’s skin. Yet the more people said it, the more I had to wonder. So I would go back, and I would listen to what they were saying. I would listen to the drivel that people had to say and ask myself. Why do they get to talk about nothing, and I am admonished for it? That is when it clicked for me, James. People weren’t admonishing me for talking about nothing. No, they were frustrated that I was able to get into their heads. That I was able to dig under their skin and get on their nerves. They were frustrated because there was always a piece of the truth hidden in sermons. I do like to talk James, that is no secret. I like to be able to convey how I am feeling with the world. I like to be able to tell people what is going on before their eyes. Truth and reality. Though I may have lived in delusion, I was all about showing them the truth. That was my justification for getting under their skin. Then I stood back and took in everything. See talking was half the battle. Talking and getting under their skin that worked two ways. For guys like Austin James Mercer it was like waving a red flag in their face. Riling up the bull and getting them angry. Getting them frustrated. The same could be said for you would-be teacher, Fenris. I forced his hand, and he overplayed it. I out-thought Fenris, I out-thought Austin James Mercer. The truth, however, was I was just getting lucky. That’s what people want to think. Guys like Jack Washington would tell you until the cows came home, I was just getting lucky. That despite it all, it wasn’t some grand plan. It wasn’t me being better. That it had to be a fluke of fucking fate that got Alexander Raven over the line. For a while, I thought they were right.”
“But then I took a moment to think. I looked over the scene and came to understand something. Hypocrites all of them. They did just what I was doing. Saying things to get under the skin of other people and they pretended like it meant more when they did. I grew tired of the prattling, the back and forth, the arguments and the arrogance. Hypocrites who could not admit that they liked the sound of their own voices just as much as they were accusing me of liking mine. Things keep on rolling, and here we stand at the end of it. You did that for me, James. You said something and it reminded me of who the fuck I am. It reminded me that even if the world had forgotten, nobody else would ever truly understand when they were just as delusional as me. You said I got under your skin, James. The first to openly admit it in months. In almost a fucking year, you admitted that I got under your skin. No matter what you say, no matter how you try and put me down. The truth of the matter remains this. I am under your skin, and it is driving you mad. So you went and got training from the one man who is probably as maddened as yourself. You went and got the help of Fenris to show you. To show you how to break me. To show you where he went wrong and how to stop that from happening again. But that is where things fall apart for you, James. That is where it all comes crashing down.”
Alexander Raven is standing in a field, wrapped up in a thick coat and a scarf around his neck. His beard has grown out, and his hair was somewhat messy. Deep heavy bags under his eyes, speaking of a lack of sleep. In front of him sat three small tombstones. Two looking aged, but the third in front of what appears to be a freshly dug grave. Standing in front of the fresh one, he turns his head up to the sky.
“Time of death, four fifteen AM. It’s funny how the world punishes us, James. You’ve been training with Fenris. Attempting to get as much knowledge in about submissions as you possibly can. Maybe even watching old tape to see if I’ve got any tricks up my sleeve that you don’t know about. What have I been doing? I got married, I nearly broke my knuckles over the face of an old friend. I watched my best friend die. Time of death, four fifteen AM. Everything has come crashing down, and I wonder. I wonder if there really is any reason to keep this charade going. I wonder if there is any reason to pretend that the outcome here is not already pre-ordained. I wonder if there is any fucking reason to step into that ring when everyone, their ma and their fucking dog think I am going to lose. Not a single person has even vaguely offered the olive branch to me. Not a single person has even thought about offering a word of fucking support for Alexander Raven. Why? No one thinks I can fucking do it James. You’re just an insufferable cunt that everyone thinks is just going to walk all over me. That is going to take what knowledge they’ve gained and step on the last of my time here. Time of Death, the final second of December 2 Dismember. That is the expectation for me. That in the final moments, I’ll either tap out or pass out. I’ll fade off and that’ll be it. The Forgotten will be forgotten. The end of my time here in Sin City. The end of my career some might say. They might be right. See, there’s a cruel fucking irony to this world. The irony being you share the name of my friend. You share his fucking name, and so every time I must think about you it taints his memory in my mind just a little bit more. I cannot fucking stand it, J2H.”
“You know what the worst part is? Behind all the bravado, you are just like him. Cool, calm and collected. Confident in yourself and brimming with arrogance. The difference? My James never had an issue telling you when he was afraid. When he was scared. He never had an issue telling people when he wasn’t sure he was good enough. He didn’t hide it behind frivolous words and manipulation. He told it straight. Stared down the barrel of hate and told you exactly how he was feeling. Someone we could all stand to take a lesson from. Especially you, J2H. See a blind man would think you have the confidence, arrogance and belief that you are a sure-fire win for this. The greater masses may think you are the guaranteed winner here. You might have even deluded yourself into thinking that what you are saying doesn’t reveal a greater image. Submissions weren’t you game, so you went and got trained. Not to better your skillset, though you may think that the case. You even had to swallow your fucking pride and saddle up with one of the boys who holds a win over you. Hell, a man who holds a win over us both let us not forget. No you saddled up with someone who made you feel violently ill at the thought of working with. You had to swallow your pride because the truth of it? You know I’m just good enough to take you off your mantle and drop you to the fucking floor. You know I’m just good enough, to wrap my arm around your throat and squeeze so hard your fucking eyes pop. You know I’m just good enough that even in such a ‘boring’ stipulation, you haven’t got a fucking chance. Behind all the bravado, all the arrogance all the bullshit. You’re just as fucking scared of walking out a loser as I am. The only difference now? I’ve got nothing else to fucking lose.”
Alex drops down to his knees, and stretches a handout, touching his hand to the makeshift wooden tombstone that marked the fresh grave. He lowered his gaze from the sky and fixed it on the grave in front of him, breathing out heavily. A glistening in his eyes, a shake in his hands. His other hand slipping into his coat pocket.
“You want to talk about killer instinct? Let’s talk about killer fucking instinct. See the only fuckwit walking into this match with a sheen of stupidity, is you. I’ve made a fucking career out of choking people the fuck out. I’ve made a career out of dropping people right on their neck. I’ve made a career out of ensuring that everyone knows that stepping into the ring with Alexander Raven is a case for danger. A case for agony. A case for pain. And a case to get your fucking lights put out. I picked submission only, because it affords me the opportunity to make you scream like the little bitch you are. I picked submission only because I know a hell of a lot about putting people in holds to make them tap the fuck out. I know a hell of a lot about breaking people. I won the Internet Championship when I put Lachlan Kane to fucking sleep. Put so much pressure on that poor boy’s back, it nearly snapped him in fucking half. You want to talk about killer instinct? I’m here week in week out, despite your claims otherwise. I’m here proving myself to be better every single time. And a fact of fate is that every person who wrongs me, eventually gets their comeuppance. I got my win back over Davison, over Fenris, over Kasey. You’ve fucking wrong me, J2H. And you have the balls to question whether I have the killer instinct? I don’t think you’ve got the killer fucking instinct James. You talk about me needing to choke your scrawny fucking ass out. What about you, brother? Do you have the killer instinct to choke me out? You think your little run around with Fenris is going to really prepare you to put me out? I don’t need to nearly kill you, James. I just need to hurt you. I just need to remind you of how fucking human we all are. You and I, we’re just people doing their best. A bit of success, a bit of competition and you lose sight of yourself. Harris was your better, and no matter what you think. Come December 2 Dismember, I’m going to show you who the fuck is your better.”
“Because this is the truth of it James. This is the fucking truth of it. You are not as good as you think you are, no matter how hard you try and convince yourself otherwise. You’re not as tough as you think you are, because I know how far a bone can be pushed before it snaps. I know how quickly a man can be put the fuck out with the proper chokehold. It takes only a second to put a man to sleep, James. A twitching, convulsing unconscious mess. Killer instinct? There’s only one guy here with killer fucking instinct. But you know what? You know what the most egregious think you throw out, week after week is? This assumption that I something of an alcoholic. Weird thing for a guy who likes a drink to be mad over, right? I can see the irony in it. Alexander Raven, runs bars, drinks on camera, hell he even ran a masterclass on the cruise once. Do you know why it bothers me, J2H? It bothers me, because it just shows how simple minded you really are. How baffling ignorant and blind you are to the reality that stands before. A man who talks shit, hides behind his own bravado, granted. Granted you’ve fucking earned some of it. Some of it. But not enough to be throwing out these accusations. Accusing me of something that I have spent my life ensuring that I never become. Ensuring that I stay in control of my vices. Stay in control of the aspects of my life that are influenced by the abuse of my youth. I’ve never been clearer in mind than I am right now. No alcohol, no fear. No worries and no qualms. I’m glad you went and got trained up. I’m glad you feel so goddamn confident about it all, because when it all comes to an end. And you’re blinking light back into your dim little head. Wondering where all the people went. Wondering where all the sounds went. Wondering why you’re being tended to by the doctors. When it comes down to it, and you must swallow your fucking pride. Let me tell you, James. I’m going to pour one out for you. I’m going to pour one out for both James’s in my life. The one who just got whooped, and the one who is going to be whooping ass in the great beyond.”
Alex pulls down and the makeshift grave marker comes down. Carved into the wood, and then painted in red is a name. James Huntington-Hawkes III. Alex spits on the grave, and stands up slowly, the wash of anger now settled on his face. Pulling the scarf from his neck, he places it over the torn down marker.
“What are you going to tell the world, when the drunk, stupid and less talented Alexander Raven chokes you the fuck out? What are you going to tell everyone when you lose at the final show of the year, in the main event, in a match that you did everything to prepare for, and it just wasn’t fucking good enough? Has the thought even crossed your mind, James? I’ve offered you my career, and I wonder. I wonder if you can take it from me. I have nothing left to lose, and everything to gain. Freedom to hunt, and the right to burn this fucking kingdom down. I am the fucking Napalm Kingslayer Alexander Raven. And I’m going to walk out of December 2 Dismember THE Sin City Wrestling World Champion. You can bet your fucking house on it.”
Taking a lighter out from his coat, he ignites it next to the scarf. After a few seconds it takes up in flames. The whole scarf quickly being enveloped. Then the grave marker, and then spreading to the nearby earth. The other two unmarked graves also catching flame. The fire spreading and spreading. Creating a circle around Alexander Raven.
“The Conspiracy is here.”
Raven is slowly enveloped by the flames too and obscured by them. The screech and croak of birds filling the air. The flutter of hundreds of wings. A swirl of birds filling the sky, and the area. The flames disappearing behind a cloud of black wings and beaks. Then as quickly as they appeared, they were gone. The flames too, and no Alexander Raven. Just the smouldering remains of the grave of J2H.
And then…
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.