Another night, another series of nightmares. For all the positives of this world tour, and in particular this run of the Blast From The Past tournament, the homelife of the Rabenschwarz family? Not so pretty. Alex hadn’t been himself, half-lucid, arguing with the air. There was the collapse at Vimy Ridge where he had thrown up all over himself. Luna was doing her best to be supportive but he couldn’t even articulate what was going on. He’d taken off to see Vita Mors before he’d joined up with her in Normandy. Ever since, something had just been… off.

He’d been a little more himself since they’d arrived in Turkey. They’d made the call for Alex to take some R&R in Istanbul. She suspected it was mainly because he wanted to go and visit the city full of cats. It also meant that Luna was free to tee up some team-building time with Sean again. The calls had been fun, and he hadn’t let her plunge to her death in Hastings, so by all accounts she thought it was off to a fantastic start. They’d easily had the most impressive debut outing of any of the teams in the opening round. Quick work, and tandem finishers. For a little reminder of who the fuck she was she’d even got the pin herself.

It did mean however, that after Alex’s back to back wins with Calaway… there was a real possibility that at the end of it, they’d be facing each other from opposite ends of the ring. That made her heart hurt. As much as she trusted Sean to get the job done, there was not a single instance in which she’d ever want to see Alex lose. Conversely, she knew the same from the other side. Perhaps that was part of why he’d seemed so out of it? That's what she was going to have to believe for the moment. That Alex was battling his own difficulties with the situation.

‘In Troy, going to see the horse. See you at the horse. Neigh.’

Luna had shot off the text not long after arriving in Troy. She assumed Sean would let her know when he touched down, details of when to meet up and all that. Luna was anything but an organiser when it came to things. She sort of just liked to let details float.

Hair, make-up, getting dressed, changing her hair because it doesn’t match her clothes. Changing her clothes because she no longer likes what she decided to wear. The day was off to a flying good start. At some point in her mindless prepping, a message from Sean, telling he’d be landing in a few hours, and then being another few hours from Troy. What did that mean?  That meant she had far too much time on her hands. Time for a nap, time to call Alex, time to go for a few early morning mimosas. The options were limitless.

She decided on calling Alex first. Placing her phone up against the bathroom mirror as she decided to reapply her face for the third time that morning, having settled on a hairstyle and an outfit. Now she just needed to match the make-up and hope that her incessant need to change and alter didn’t get in the way. It rang a couple times before Alex answered. He was laying down somewhere, maybe a park? She wasn’t too sure. Yet at the same time a legion of cats had decided he was going to be their plaything for the day. She counted at least two on his back, and another couple trying to butt their way in between his face and the camera.

“Catstanbul treating you good baby-boy?” Luna asked, beaming brightly. She was well aware that he was currently getting a fantastic shot of the inside of her nostrils.

“What can I say? I’m like a pussy magnet.” Alex said, sounding far more at peace, and far more full of cheek than he had been for a while.

“You ever call yourself a pussy magnet again, we’re getting a divorce.” Luna said, shaking her head a little. Applying the last little bit of lipstick she took a long look at herself in the mirror. Purples, reds and touches of gold were the choices for the day. Content, she picked her phone up and wandered through the hotel room. It was days like this, she missed Duchess.

“Sorry again, Lu. I’m really not sure what’s going on with me lately. First the ghosts come back, and then I’m treading water after going to see that Vita Mors bloke. I think I just needed the R&R. Wish you were here.” Alex said, stroking the length of an orange cat who decided to put its butt straight up to the camera.

“You owe me a date, daddy. You can swing me some wine, some fine dining and a night of love when we get together next.” Luna said, turning away from the camera to avoid the cat butt for as long as possible. She really did miss her dog.

“I think I can swing that, baby girl. How are you feeling about it all? You know, the match? Good luck this week too, Lu. You catching up with Sean?” Alex asked. Luna sighed a little, the thought of crawling closer toward the finals was a mixed bag.

“Yeah, he’s a fair few hours out there, so I got time to blow. Thinkin’ I might go and get lubed up. Mama needs herself a mimosa.” Luna replied, turning back as the cat wandered off. Alex was now being headbutted by at least two new cats.

“But, how I’m feeling? I’m stressed. All this travel is awful on my skin, and I’m just very tired. Nothing a few drinks can’t fix, I’m sure. But I’m missing you too, sweet thing. Missing you deeply.” Luna continued on.

“Yeah, I keep promising Calaway I’ll sit down with her. Next city maybe. Before the semis. We may have to have a deeper conversation about what happens come the reality that we both make the finals.” Alex said, laying his head down on his arm. Luna just smiled a bit in response, placing a cigarette in her mouth. Standing on her balcony as she lit it.

“I don’t want to think about it. Not today at least. I should get to it. Go find somewhere to sit and drink. I love you, Lexi-baby. Call me later, okay?” Luna said, with a wink and a kiss.

“Love you, Lu. Tell me how it goes with Sean.” Alex smiled, directing one of the cats to pay attention to the phone. Winking back at her as he ended the call. Moments of serenity in a turbulent sea. Part of her was glad they were trapped, so they could still travel this way. Yet, early retirement would’ve also meant they could’ve travelled at their own leisure. A double-edged sword, really.

Another message to Sean, as she took a long and heavy drag on her cigarette.

‘Change of plans. I want a couple of cheeky mimosas and try some Turkish beer. See you at the Helix Pub, when you get in.’

When she thought about it, sometimes it felt like she was talking to Jimmy. Just swapping up plans and switching out decisions at the drop of a dime. A woman in constant motion. She missed Jimmy on days like this. She missed her brother. Not quite as painfully, but there wasn’t a day he didn’t cross her mind. In the way she talked to someone, or even in the moments of Alex dropping little pet names.

He’d actually called her baby girl today. Alex never called her baby girl. He really must be in cat heaven.

“I’m going to make you proud, Jimmy. I promise.” Luna whispered to herself.


“I said it, and it came true. Funny how things work. Loopy Luna is just a shade too crazy, but when she goes to work. Everybody stops to fucking watch. I’ve said it over and over. I am the inevitable fucking future of Sin City Wrestling. The woman who cannot be touched, for everything I do turns to gold. The lady they all want to hate. The woman that all the other bombshells wish would just go away, because they know. They know that I’m going to walk all over their pretty fucking faces as I climb to the peak.”

“See, I listen to what is going on around here. I pay attention to all the things that people are saying. Loopy Luna, oh she’s just a crazy mouthy bitch. The attention whore who just won’t go away. Except, when it comes down to brass tacks. When it comes down to whether or not it's you or me, well baby. Every damn time, it’s me. The one throwing people through tables. The one throwing women through fire. The bitch who tears with barbed wire and breaks with brass.”

“So when they threw Kat Jones at me, I just knew they thought it was going to go their way. That the perennial poster child of Sin City. She was going to put Luna in her place. That’s not how it went down though was it? No, Kat Jones was shown exactly what was meant for her the first time around. Twice, I’ve beaten her. Twice I’ve shown that this is the era of fucking Luna Pasilno. That the only queen worth a damn when it comes to stepping to Kayla Richards, is me. So when I see the ranting and raving former top, Julianna DiMaria filling my feed with void screaming and empty threats. I’m glad that it’s me here.”

“I’m glad that it’s me who stepped past Kat Jones. I’m glad that it’s me who is going to turn the wannabe bad child inside out and upside down. I’m glad that it’s me that is going to be able to sit pretty at ringside when Julianna falters and fails against Kayla Richards again. Why do I say that? Because we all know that is where it’s headed. A rematch for the breakdown queen herself, just to be reminded why she skirted by on the laurels of a reign that she barely even fucking showed up for. Learning from the wisdom tree that is J2H, that just ain’t it baby-girl. That just ain’t how we fly.”

“But that? That’s for another day. Today isn’t for Julianna. Today isn’t even for Kayla Richards. No, today? Today is for little baby Roux. The bad child herself. The wannabe stand-out. The inevitable future, to take a note from my own little playbook. Unfortunate name, don’t you think? I guess it’s pretty sounding. Not fun to think of the cooking mixture, and she’s not quite a red-head. Small benefits of fate I suppose.”

“Cocky little bitch that she is, I can admire it. Smart-mouthed is generally something I can appreciate. Although, she did seem to have her priorities of focus in just slightly the wrong place. Belittling poor baby Bill? I mean he might be as simple as two bricks tied together on a stick, but he’s a fence-swinger when he needs to be. So maybe a little less vitriol for the man who is expected to carry your tiny little ass up the totem pole towards the winner’s podium. What do you say, sugar-plum?”

“What did strike me as interesting is how much of a little reader our sweet little Roux baby is. She deep-dived into Nakita, and she disregarded Caleb. I can respect some research. I mean, I’ve clearly done just a touch of my own. How’s the sister, by the way? Last I saw her, she was getting squashed by Tempest and failing to defend the Bombshell Internet Championship. Oh, but family drama, right? You wanna be your own person. Step on your own two feet and be seen for who you truly are. Funny about that though. Funny, because I’ve got this sneaking gut wrenching suspicion that one of the first things that are going to come out of little Roux’s mouth? How I’m just a side piece of Alexander Raven.”

“Why do I think this? Because it’s the easy path to take. It’s the path everyone else seems to take. It’s the only path that seems to mean anything in the eyes of those who prance and dance around here. Doesn’t matter how many championships I win. How many I fight for. How many undeserved returning nobody veterans I put in their place, or how many up-start bitchy little slags I put down. People are always going to downplay what I do. But I’m not going to let them, Roux. I’m not going to let anyone downplay what I can do. I went out and I made a fucking mockery of Kat Jones. I’m going to step to you and stop this little journey before it even really gets started. Or maybe Sean does what you expect?”

“Maybe Sean steps to ol’ Billy Boy himself, and puts the old man in his place. Takes him down a peg and reminds him why us, those of the inevitable future, are the ones to watch. Because even though this is your story, this is also fate outside your hands. So confident, yet trembling and quivering at the idea of a challenge from the word go. A child. I’m not so dumb to discount based on age or inexperience. Hell, I’ve only got a year in this.”

“What I can do however? I can point out how fucking stupid the idea of a barely legal sprite prancing about talking about her fucking story. Barely knee high to a fucking cricket and already full of piss and vigour. I had some stories to tell too coming up, but I’ll be real with you baby girl. Your story ain’t been told by nobody else, ‘cause you haven’t had a fucking story to tell. You’re going to learn real quick. That you haven’t experienced jack shit up to this point. That the learning, the pain, the quivering agony you got ahead of you? That’s the real fucking story. So you were right about one thing.”

“You are writing the first chapters. But let me spell it out for you real easy. The early chapters? They’re all just laying the field. Setting up for the journey of pain. For the mountain you need to get over. No good story starts with a shit ending. No good story goes without troubles. So, I’m thinking, Roux. I’m thinking you're in line for a real short story. A terrible start of far too much happiness, a middling nothing of a guaranteed loss, and then a failure of an ending because the baby was too big for her boots.”

“This isn’t a case of me being too confident. No, this is a case of me being certain. Being certain that I can step to the rookie. That I can step to the arrogant child who wants to be her own person, but hasn’t even had her first real suckle of life. This is me being certain that Sean Parker is going to take your partner, Bill Barnhart to school. Lift him up out of the bygone eras and bring him to the modern day. Bring him to the ball with all of us kiddies who just want a sip of that spiked punch.”

“But enough about the rebellious toddler, and more about the sweetheart Bulldog. Hi, Bill. It’s funny that this happens to us again. Opposite sides, and yet the outcome is going to be the same. It doesn’t really matter who you’re partnered up with, does it? It doesn’t even really matter who I’m partnered up with. As much as we adore you. As much as we wish the Barnharts would get their due respect, there’s a certain truth to the failings, isn’t there? See, I can see straight through you Billy. Through both you and Bea. One of the other power couples of Sin City, except… Nobody ever has anything nice to say about us either.”

“Not even your own partner has faith in you, Bill. Little toxic and cocky Roux hasn’t got an ounce of faith in you being able to contend with the rest of the field. She didn’t even expect to make it out of the first round. Not because of her inexperience, or inability. She didn’t think you could remain vertical. Against Caleb Storm of all people. A guy she sees as a consummate jobber. She didn’t even trust you to get the job done against Caleb fucking Storm. Poor sweet Billiam. That’s a harsh call. But is she wrong?”

“I don’t think she is, Bill. I don’t think she’s wrong for doubting you. I think Roux is actually smart for having her doubts. Having her doubts about you. Realistically, they’re somewhat founded aren’t they? As confident as you can be, you know that you just aren’t quick enough anymore. You’re a strong man, but you’re just not strong enough. You’re a smart man, apparently. Though I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything come out of your mouth that hasn’t been regurgitated by every wannabe MENSA member. I do love the little dog though. Maybe I could steal that idea. Prance my way around with my beautiful little Beagle. Have her get into all sorts of trouble. We could have a six man tag. You, baby Roux and your dumb fucking bulldog, against Sean, Duchess the Queen of pups and me. What do you say Billiam?”

“No, no. That’d be silly. It’s bad enough you’re going to be shown up by Roux and Sean. Let alone shown up by your own fucking dog. So maybe we just let that one lie. I do wish you the best, Bill. I truly do. I just hope you can bounce back from this failure, like you have every other time. I mean, we’re always going to need a tune up match. Alex and I have to crash toward those Mixed Tag Titles eventually, and get ourselves nice and lubricated. Well that’s just the tale of the tape. So I wish you the best Bill.”

“Just not when it involves me.”

“And remember.”



There was something familiar about Helix. It reminded her of being in Melbourne, if she really thought about it. Sitting outside, the smell of beer, cigarettes and food. No amount of cleaning could ever fix that. Deep-seated smells. Something told her that at night the place came a bit more alive. Quick google searches showed in house DJs, and a copious amount of poor decision making. Maybe her and Alex could swing by before they flew out. See if they couldn’t somehow manage to barter a week off. They had to be somewhat back in the good books with all the eyeballs and money they were bringing in.

At least they’d deluded themselves into thinking it was them that was doing it. It was hard to argue against. The most high-profile match going into the last super card. The two favourites going into the Blast from the Past tournament, and if tweets were anything to be believed, they were also on track to be the most hated people of the year, and only five months in. They were truly working overtime. She thought they deserved a break. Yet, if the death of her brother wasn’t enough to get them out of their contract. She doubted making them money was going to give them a moment’s reprieve.

Had she timed her starting of drinking poorly? Yes. She was already three mimosas, and two beers, deep at this point. A fourth and fifth mimosa on their way. By the time Sean would arrive, she’d likely be three sails to the wind. Fortunately, she was a well controlled drunk woman. Had to be when you worked in bars as much as she did. Couldn’t be floating off with the faeries when the shots were outnumbering you nine to one. So in the very least, besides the flush and the rambling, she’d be able to cover herself well.

Which was a good thing, being that it was only still early in the day. It also meant that she was bound to actually get a good night’s rest in for once. Maybe she’d even be able to convince Alex to take the few hours trip from Istanbul to come spend the evening with her. Sugar-coated and sweet thoughts. She took her phone out, and checked her messages. Seeing if Sean had sent anything further to let her know how far out he was.

In the meantime, food would be a good choice. It would have been pertinent to choose something local. Experience the culture, get to know Turkey a little bit better. That being said? She was hungry. And the burgers they had looked far too enticing to simply knock back. And so, that was that. What she assumed was a chicken burger got ordered, and she started on mimosa number four. In a race against time, Sean had managed to beat the clock. Probably a good thing too. Easier to hug someone when you’re not half covered in food and sauce.

“Hey, Lover! You took your sweet-ass time!” Luna exclaimed, arms thrown about the man, a soft peck to the lip, before she dragged him to sit down opposite her.

“Well, if you hadn’t decided to change plans at the last minute again, I wouldn’t have to make a detour! How’s the Turkish beer?” Sean said. Luna shrugged a little, as she settled in. Another sip of her drink.

“It’s serviceable. Call me a snob, but Melbourne did spoil me with crafts. Jimmy and Alex ran a bar, so I got to try a whole plethora of tasty brews. It’s no Moon Dog Pale, but it does the trick. They do make a good mimosa though, so… win win really.” Luna babbled.

“But, but. How was the trip, sugar? Do you like flying? I fucking hate flying. I feel like normally we get around these long overseas flights by getting on a cruise ship. But I guess the surrogate daddies decided they want to torture me into submission. I ordered something to eat, by the by. It’s hungry work being this carefree, darling.”

Sean just scrunched his face up slightly, pursing his lips.

“Long-haul flights are a pain in the arse. Even in First-Class I couldn’t even get settled but it’s been a rough week.”

Sean had picked up on Luna mentioning she’d ordered something to eat and he had avoided eating a lot on the plane out of principle. His stomach growled slightly and picked up a menu lying on the table.

“What did you order, Crazy? Kebab? Falafel?” Sean queried.

“Do not let my looks deceive you. I am not cultured, love. I think I ordered a chicken burger. I just kind of smiled, and pointed and they nodded. At least, I hope it’s chicken. I guess it could be tofu.” Luna said, suddenly less certain of her order. She shrugged at the thought, and finished her drink. In preparation for the next one.

“They put you in first class? I’m going to have to have a word with those fuckers. Talking about rough weeks. Alex is in Istanbul being loved on by cats. Can you believe he had the audacity to say he was a pussy magnet? The nerve.” Luna continued on, pulling her phone out. She opened up to a picture of Alex being absolutely swamped by an array of cats, showing it to Sean. He smiled that kind of forced smile when someone shows you a picture of their kids you couldn’t care less about. Something was up with him and Luna couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The minute she’d mentioned Alex, his demeanour changed.

“Listen…Luna…” Sean stammered, absentmindedly playing with a beer mat.

“I need to talk to you about something and I need you to keep an open mind…”

Sean then delved into his pocket and pulled out a device that almost resembled a pocket watch. He clicked it open, revealing a blank face, no hands or numbers, just…well, nothing. He rolled it between his fingers.

“I think your wife might question why you’ve got a picture of lil’ ol me on you at all times. But if you just cannot be without, I guess I can oblige.” Luna mocked a little, looking at the funny little object he’d pulled out. She assumed it was a locket of some kind.

“Just shoot, sugar. Worst thing I can say is no, tip my next drink on your head, and run away.” She continued on teasing, attempting to take some of the tension out of the situation. Sean held up the trinket and it looked like some sort of red mist was swirling in the center.

“No, no, not like that… have you heard of Vita Mors?” Sean asked.

Luna rolled her eyes a little at the mention of Vita Mors. Her body stiffening just slightly at the thought of it. Seemed like everything came back to that masked weirdo lately.

“Know of him. Alex went to see him recently, and got into his head about Jimmy. My brother. Has been a little off ever since. Whatever that is, I’m guessing it has something to do with the spooky masked man and his greasy little gremlin of a second?” Luna said, as her burger and next mimosa were dropped off at the table. A smile, a bat of the eyelashes and the server walked off with a smile on his face.

“You know, that Ashton guy? Somehow he sends me a message one night, telling me that Alex was doing something stupid. He was, mind you. But, what kind of creep messages in the dead of night to tell someone their husband is off being a drunken menace? The nerve on those people.” Luna went on again. Clearly, the alcohol had finally hit her head a bit.

“Look, I’ve been involved with Mors and Mire before. This?” Sean started.

Sean held the device up again.

“This was a gift from him, it’s… how do I put this? It lets me see things… things that have happened, things that haven’t but could have if the road less travelled had been taken. I don’t know what Alex is caught up in with Mors but unless you’re willing to play ball, it never ends well, trust me.” Sean went on.

Sean stopped for a moment, as if contemplating his next words carefully.

“I can’t even begin to tell you the crazy shit I’ve seen in the last few months but I can show you.  Through this, I can show you aspects of what your life could have been. Your career, your childhood… motherhood…” Sean said.

“You’re telling me, I can see what Alex and I’s baby would be?” Luna asked, incredulously. She didn’t really seem all that phased by it all. More so a case of not believing than anything.

“Alright then. Show me.” Luna said.

And then…

It had been fun having Adrienne around. Though it did a good job of dragging up old memories. It did a tremendous job of making her feel a little younger, a little more alive and a little happier too. But it reminded Luna of some terrible times and places in her life too. Addiction had been their lives, and though they had saved their sweet little Marigold from an abusive and overbearing partner. That had not saved Luna from the depths of her addictions.

So when she stumbled across that little bag of powder in their bathroom, it all came flooding back. Luna was vaguely impressed at the speed in which Adrienne had managed to find people pedalling stuff, but it also was a stark reminder of why she had distanced herself from the girl. It hadn’t been a pleasant conversation. Adrienne wasn’t much younger, but in behaviour and maturity. She was still a young party girl who didn’t understand the wrong she had committed.

She’d been asked to leave. Alex had to play the bad guy once again. Luna wasn’t in a state to be around her. She wasn’t in a state where that monkey called addiction wasn’t threatening to break her. She didn’t want to give up almost three years of sobriety for nothing. So Alex had asked Adrienne to leave. He’d given her the key to James’ bar and home, and had had a long talk with her. There were apology texts, and attempted phone calls. Maybe the verbal berating had gotten through to Adrienne.

Luna was a numb mess.

They were holed up on the couch for the night. Alex nestled in a pillow puddle in the deep corner of the L bend on the couch. Luna lay curled up on the short end, head in his lap, watching some mindless documentary that Alex had put on. They’d been better since that night. Since Adrienne had told her to go home. She suspected with Adrienne out of the house, they’d be better again. But there was still a need to talk about what happened. More than their car discussion allowed for.

But was tonight that night? No, not really. Tonight was to be… human for once. To not be the nasty and bitchy individuals that everyone seemed to see them as. To just be human for a minute. Not The Idol and The Napalm Kingslayer. To just be Luna and Alex, husband and wife, watching a crappy documentary, petting their obnoxiously cuddly beagle called ‘Duchess’.

“This show sucks.” Alex grunted, as he wiggled himself up a little. Reaching over her to grab the remote that was near her feet. She stuck her foot out in place of it, and made him grab a handful of her feet. The recoil in absolute horror that followed made it all worth it in that moment.

“I get to pick now.” He tickled the bottom of her foot briefly, making her body kick out. Sitting up as she did, lightly smacking him on the arm. The smile, the laugh, the flash of joy in his eyes. He leaned forward, and placed a kiss on her. A short, sweet and simple kiss. The kind that reminded her that even as she lay there, no make-up, messy haired and comfy clothes, she was the most gorgeous person in his world.

“I love you, idiot.” Luna said as she sat up a little. The dog takes this as a perfect time to crawl from being wedged into them, to being on Alex’s lap. Luna fake gasped, and Alex smiled, ruffling Duchess’s ears. She grabbed the remote, and sat upright, Alex’s arm draping over her shoulders.

She rested her head on his chest as she began to scroll, absent-mindedly scratching at the dog’s head. But in the moment of peace, there were flashes of that monkey on her shoulders. Had Adrienne remembered to take the bag from the bathroom? Had she remembered to clear out the drugs when she’d been asked to leave. What if the messages were her begging Luna not to go and check.

“I changed my mind, you pick. I need to pee.” Luna said, getting to her feet. Every part of her was screaming to tell Alex to go check the bathroom for her. The rational part of her mind begging her to not fall into the trap. To be free. To stay clean. But all the stress lately, the valium and the xanax prescriptions. The image of Alex with the gun pointed and held at Sullivan’s head. Her own screams echoing in her mind, as she played the thought over and over.

On the surface, a calm queen. Underneath, a struggling junkie who was looking for a fix. Alex eyed her with suspicion as he handed him the remote. The dog not moving, not deigning the need to follow her. Each step felt heavy, each step felt heavier than the last. What would she do if the ketamine was still there? Would she try and pretend that she was sober as she floated away into a world of happiness? Would she tip it down the drain and pat herself on the back? It wouldn’t even matter if Adrienne had remembered to…

It was gone. There was no little plastic bag on the bench. There were no lines, or glass. No cards and no notes rolled up. She smiled, but leaned against the doorway. Her mind racing. All these years later, and she was still a slave to it. Still a slave to the idea of floating away. There were no excuses that justified it, and yet. She just wanted to not feel like this for a minute. To not feel like the world hated her. To not be the bitch that everyone seemed to think she was.

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes. The anger, the frustration. The hatred for the world that continued to shun them, and made them out to be the bad guys. To be the bad guys for just trying to cope, to live. To move forward day to day. Every person needs to involve themselves. Every person having an opinion on who the fuck she was. Every which way she turned, there was just another person pushing her.

Krystal, Samantha, Mark, Christian, Ariana and hell, now even Harper. Everyone had an opinion on the actions they made, to keep themselves above water. To keep themselves from sinking, from just wanting to float. From just wanting to be alive, and to suffer in their own grief quietly. To suffer and bleed. To hurt in freedom. To mourn her fucking brother in peace.

An addict would run to the peace of their addiction. An addict had to fight every day just to be free of that monkey that sat on their shoulders. An addict had to be okay, and had to pretend that the world wasn’t forever attempting to push them down. To crush them under the heel of oppressive hate. She just wanted to be normal, just for a minute.

“Nothing fun to see in there, piss-pot.” Alex had somehow managed to come up behind her. Silent as a mouse. She jumped a little, but instantly relaxed as his arms slipped around her waist. Pulled her from the doorframe and onto him. Waddling them away from the bathroom. No judgement. There was never any judgement from him. How could there be? They were both addicts, just to different things. Cigarettes, alcohol, coffee. It just happened that her vice was downers, and his was… what was his addiction?

“I’ll be better one day, won’t I?” Luna asked, twisting around to face him. Arms up and wrapped around his neck, holding tightly to him. He tilted his head to rest against hers as she placed her chin on his shoulder, standing on the tips of her toes.

“You’re better today than you were yesterday, and you’re far better today than you were three years ago. We may never be fixed, Lu. But we’re better today than we were any other day.” Alex said gently, waddling them back to the couch slowly. Back into their little bubble of peace. The young couple, with their dog, watching shitty documentaries on Netflix. A bottle of wine, an ashtray with far too many cigarettes. Just them, being… normal.

“One day, you’ll be free, Lu. One day, we’ll all be free.” Alex said as he planted them back on the couch. She sat straddling his lap, much to the dismay of Duchess who tried valiantly to squeeze her way between the two of them. Nestling her body in between them. A hint of happiness.

“Tell me a story, Alex.” Luna asked, more a demand than a question. A soft demand. A gentle request. His arms tightened around her for a moment, feeling the warmth of Duchess pressed tightly against the both of them.

“There was once a boy named James.” Alex said softly.


“Dear Samantha, how beautiful it is that we are here again. I’d like to take a moment to talk to you. Dear Samantha, how wonderful it is to have you before me again, do you think we have a moment to talk? Hey Samantha, Luna again. I was just wondering if you’d take a moment to talk? Hey fuckface, it’s Luna. We’ve got some words to let loose, don’t we?”

“Dear Samantha, how’s the noggin’? Must be hurting after brass meets head. Hey Samantha, I’ve been thinking. What gave you the right to stick your nose into my business? Dear moron, I’ve got some ideas. Ideas on how we can save your career. Hey dickhead, it’s me again. Just wondering if you’ve got any idea of what you’ve started?”

Luna is sitting at a writing desk, her hair hanging loose around her neck and shoulders. Paper and pens are sprawled out all over the desk. Samantha’s name scrawled in different coloured inks in various erratic scratchings and sizings across the papers. The pen in her hand gripped tightly.

“I understand the resentment Samantha. There seems to be this theme. You come into my life, you lose, and I win. That’s the way it goes right? You come into my life, I win the Internet Championship, you don’t. I punch you in the back of the head, cost you a match, and then I go on to win later that night. Even with your attempts to break my face, and hurt my arm. Even with your attempts to batter my pretty little head, I went on to win my match. Funny how things like this seem to happen, over and over.”

“It’s funny to me, Samantha. That here you are again in my purview. An afterthought the first time, and again an afterthought now. Funny how you had to stick your fucking nose into my affairs. Did Ben go running to you, begging you to watch his back? No, I doubt he truly thought it was necessary. No, I think, you Samantha. Are a perpetual nobody. What was it you said? That you deserve to be here. That my ‘crocodile mouth  was writing cheques my canary rear end will have trouble cashing’. You learnt exactly what I was fucking capable of last time we banged heads Samantha. You learnt that in a pool of women your better, you came up short, and I stood as the victor. As much as women like Krystal Wolfe might want to try and take that away.”

“History says that Luna Pasilno is the superior woman. History says that Luna Pasilno is the lady to watch. History says that Luna Pasilno is the woman who will punch your fucking lights out, and you can’t even do enough to slow her down. How long has it been since you were fucking relevant? Three years? Four years? Seems like you fall into the same mouthy camp as the ratty Barossa Valley slag, Krystal Wolfe. Seems to me that you’re the one with a crocodile mouth, writing cheques that your canary rear end will have trouble cashing.”

Luna pushes a few of the pieces of paper aside. A chequebook hidden beneath the pile. She opens it, the first cheque stating it is payable to SAMANTHA MARLOWE, for ‘Medical Costs incurred for being a dumb fucking bitch.’

“So I wonder, Samantha. What possesses you to think that you deserve to be here? I’m just wondering because I haven’t seen anything to make me think you are worth a dime. I haven’t seen a word from you worth listening to. I haven’t seen a step from you that makes me think you could go toe to toe with The Troll, let alone anyone else in this current roster of Bombshells. I’d hazard that you, just like Ben, are finding this renewed fire as a result of us. The Conspiracy sets our sights on you two, and suddenly you’re full of bravado, vim and vigour. Suddenly you think that you’re worthy of the spotlight that you are so wholeheartedly hogging.”

“But no, Samantha. Just like Ben, you are not worthy of the spotlight hogging that you are getting. This wasn’t a journey into proving that you were worthwhile. This wasn’t a journey to shine light on those who are missing a step. This was to prove that you didn’t deserve the opportunities thrown your way. So I want you to remember the feeling of brass against bone. I want you to remember what steel against skin feels like. I want you to remember what it felt like to come up short against Luna Pasilno, because you’re going to have to get real familiar with that feeling.”

“But that’s not what this week is about. No, this week, Samantha. This is your week. The week for you to show the world that you’re a half-step better than Luna Pasilno. That you can out-wrestle and out-think her. That the pretty little face is nothing more than an empty headed bimbo hanging on to the better of her sweet dear husband. Isn’t that right? It seems to be what everyone else thinks of me. That I’m just coming along for the ride on the wings of the better. Except for when it means to say that Alex is the better. In which case he's nothing and deserves nothing, a failure. But only when it suits them. When it doesn’t, he’s a multi-time champion, a man to be feared. Because then Luna Pasilno is just his little hanger-on. Or as Samantha so eloquently put it ‘Raven’s sick little whatever she is’.”

She slams the pen down into the cheque book. Somehow managing to pierce straight through the entirety of it with one downward force. That iconic banshee scream rips from her throat, as she lifts and slams the penchequebook combination over and over onto the writing desk. The sheets of paper scrawled with Samantha’s name being thrown all over the place and knocked to the floor.

“I’m a fucking person, you dumb fucking bitch. Is that something that everyone seems to just magically forget? That beneath it all, I’m also my own fucking person. I’m a human being with a beating heart, and emotions. Fears, aspirations and everything in between. Clearly I’m not somebody to you, Samantha. I’m just ‘Raven’s sick little whatever she is.’ Just like I’m just Raven’s ‘hanger-on’ according to Krystal Wolfe. Sidekick, dropkick, whatever. It doesn’t matter as long as your attempts to dehumanise me work, right?”

“Doesn’t matter what you say about someone if they aren’t even a person in your fucking eyes. You want to know why I put my hands on Ben? So people would stop pretending that I am nothing. The only two people that ever saw me as more than just a piece of meat, a hanger-on, a bitch who needed protecting. The only two people were my fucking brother, and my husband. And I can’t hear my brother tell me that I matter anymore. I can’t ask my brother to remind me that I exist. No, I have to do it for myself now, and the more I try, the more people pretend like I don’t matter.”

“I’m in your sights now, right Samantha? I waved that red flag and made you come charging like a dog in heat. And now, you’re stuck with me. And I’m going to make sure you acknowledge me, Samantha. If it takes battering your pretty little brains all over the canvas, so be it. If it takes breaking the balls of your illegitimate partner, so be it. That’s the story, right? The married woman is having an illicit affair with her best friend. Oh, how juicy, Samantha.”

With one last slam, she leaves the penchequebook combination in the middle of the writing desk. She turns away from the table, running her hands up into her hair. The anger etched across her every feature. Fury bubbling behind her eyes. Hell hath no fury like Luna Pasilno slightly vexed. Pulling her hair back behind her with one hand, she extends the other out in front of her. A soothing calm washing over her face as her eyes lock upon the wedding band on her finger.

“Upsetting when people say things that aren’t really true, isn’t it? Upsetting when people make assumptions about you because that’s just how it seems to them. Upsetting that someone would go out of their way to take away your humanity. To take away your personality. To reduce you to nothing more than the cheating harlot. You have my sympathies, Samantha. You truly do. An afterthought you may be, but a woman and your own person, you still are.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again, dear Samantha. I’m looking forward to staring you right in the eye and telling you what I think of you. I’m looking forward to fighting you, Samantha. I’m looking forward to every step of the way, and you know why? Because then you can’t just think of me as the nothing that is only validated by the existence of someone else. I’m looking forward to making you see that Luna Pasilno is a human being. And that just like you, I bleed. That I cry. That I exist outside of the existence of someone else. Maybe it’s something you should try and do yourself. Maybe then, the world wouldn’t cast such aspersions on you.”

“Maybe temper your predictions this time, hey?”

Luna sighs heavily, and slowly stands up. Still holding all of her hair behind her with one hand. Lowering the free one to the desk, and tipping it. Surprisingly effortless for how heavy the desk looks. All the sheets of paper and pens falling to the floor.

“The Conspiracy thanks you for your time.”

On the floor, where all the pieces of paper had scattered. They’d fall in the shape of a large love heart. SAMANTHA and BENJAMIN scrawled across all the various papers. And in the centre, SM + BJ. The implication is quite clear.

And then…

Darkness.

Silence.

Nothing.

Luna’s scream echoed through the streets. Lights turning on in various nearby houses. The blood curdling scream enough to wake the dead themselves. But there was no gunshot. There was no bang, there was no muzzle flash. The gun wasn’t loaded.

Sullivan had collapsed to his knees, clearly thinking this would be his final night. A powerful enemy, but one Alex didn’t fear making. His eyes were still fixed on the man, the shivering whimpering mess of a man who had fallen to the floor. Luna’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him away. Pulled him away from the man he had just pulled the trigger on. It didn’t matter if the gun was loaded or not. He had done what he needed.

“I fucking own you, you stupid fucking cunt.” Alex spat venomous words, still fixated on Sullivan as Luna forcefully dragged him away. Forced him back towards the car. Forced him to be separated from the situation. Sullivan just knelt there, whimpering. Crying. Emotion from the skeleton himself. Seems even he was capable of feeling fear. Even he was capable of being broken.

“Alex, get in the fucking car.” Luna said coldly. She was burning inside, a rage that she would let him have every inch of once they were away. Away from the scene. Alex replaced the gun in an inner coat pocket, as he finally broke his eyes away from Sullivan. Eyes locking with Luna’s as she continued to pull him by the shoulders. The tiny little thing, pulling away the raging Raven himself. Every part of him burned, screamed to break eye contact. But he knew he had to keep eyes on her. For just the moment.

“That bastard should be dead, Lu. He should be dead, and James should be alive.” Alex said through gritted teeth. The adrenaline was pumping, flight or fight wanted him to fight. He knew the gun wasn’t loaded, but it didn’t change the fact that it was tugging at his soul, that in that moment, he knew he could have killed him. If that gun had been loaded, he would have put that bullet straight between Sullivan fucking Pleasant’s eyes.

“Get in the car.” Luna said, and then the sickening crack of her hand across his jaw. A deserved slap, but it shook him nonetheless. Shook and returned him to Earth. A few people had come out now, surveying what was going on. Sullivan could go to the police. Could have Alex charged. The past and the reality of the situation is that it wouldn't happen. No, Sullivan was far more the type to take things into his own hands. But would he? That was the real question.

Alex pulled open the passenger door, a hand rubbing at his blisteringly hot cheek. Rubbing at where a hand print was surely beginning to welt up. “He took everything from us. Everything.” Alex said the words as calmly as he could. A shake in his voice still. He could pull the trigger, but he couldn’t bear Luna hating him. He couldn’t bear the thought that she would resent him for making the decision he did. He didn’t want her to see that. He thought he had more time.

“You’re a fucking moron, Alex.” Luna said coldly again, as she turned the key in the ignition. Turning the engine over, and slamming her foot on the accelerator. Wanting to get away from the staring eyes, the curious persons. Away from the shuddering form of Sullivan Pleasant who was finally getting to his feet. Silence filled the air, as they drove through the still night. No music, no radio. No chatter. Just the heaviness of their breathing. Thoughts churning in their minds.

“Sul killed my brother.” Luna stated, more a fact than a question. Alex simply nodded a little in return, turning in his seat a little to face her more head on. Trying not to distract her from the road as she ripped through the night. Definitely over the speed limit.

“I didn’t catch a good look that night. Memory is kind of hazy. Trauma stuff, I guess. But… Harry found out. Harry told me. And then it all started to make sense. The man kept turning up wherever I went. Every which way I turned he was there.” Alex spoke, before Luna pulled aggressively off the road. Slamming on the breaks, whipping the both of them in their seats. Pulling the handbrake on she turned, staring daggers into him. Staring straight through him.

“What the fuck were you thinking Alex?” Luna asked, a tightened jaw, her eyes narrowed. Nothing in this world was scarier than the woman who was staring him down right now. No answer he had would be good enough. And no answer he could give was going to calm things down. The only difference with this fight? They didn’t have anywhere to escape, to leave. To disappear too. They were stuck in this fight, and that was something brand new for them.

“I wanted to hurt him, like he hurt us. I didn’t think I’d be able to pull that trigger. I thought I’d go, yell and scream. Threaten and then walk away. But I knew there was a possibility otherwise. It’s why I didn’t load the gun. It’s why I didn’t put that trust in myself.” Alex responded, staring out the windshield now, rubbing again at his slowly swelling cheek.

“James would’ve put you in the ground if he caught wind of this bullshit, and you fuckin’ know it, Alex.” Luna said with some finality, turning in her seat to look at him. Just the slightest bit of softness crossed her face as she lightly slapped his hand away. Her hands either side of his face and pulling him towards her a little.

“I’m a fucking mess, Luna.” Alex said softly, tilting his head forward a little. Resting his forehead lightly against the bridge of her nose. Luna frowning a little and shaking her head, lifting him off for a moment to tap him on the nose.

“It’s weird when you use my full name. You’re the one in trouble here, Lexi. Not me.” She said, soothingly. Placing a gentle kiss to his forehead before turning in her seat. Handbrake off, and slowly pull back onto the road. He settled himself back into his seat, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, you don’t know Ashton Mire, do you? I got this really weird text, it seemed… like a premonition.” Luna asked.

He’d heard the name before. Worked for a Vita Mors Co. He didn’t really know much about them, but this did seem somehow in their bizarre little wheelhouse. “I know of him. Nothing good to come from it. I wouldn’t engage. Seem like a bunch of cultists. Weird cats.” Alex said, trying to remain somewhat impartial. The whole idea of them being under the watch of Vita Mors was unnerving in itself.

He didn’t know it at the time. But things weren’t going to be as simple as ‘simply avoiding’ Ashton Mire and the illusive Vita Mors. Little did they know what was coming for them. Life was about to change for them, forever. Old friends, new friends and what could only be described as a mystical space cult fronting as a corporation.

The next morning, there was a knock at their door.


“I’m beginning to understand Jack Washington. That’s a scary thought in of itself, but I’m beginning to really understand what he was talking about. It feels like, the more I look, the smaller this ocean becomes. The more I stand here and think about it, the less I feel like a big fish in a gigantic ocean, and the more I feel like a shark in a fucking swimming pool. It’s funny how time makes idiots of us all, and yet in becoming the moron we become the understanding. The ignorance becomes a veil we cannot hide behind any longer and into the light we step. A light of understanding, a light of knowing. Seeing that the longer I stand here, the longer I swim in this ever shrinking bath tub of sticky waste, I begin to understand the minnows that nip and nibble at my fins.”

“I’m beginning to understand why Jack Washington has to disappear for six months a year, and then comes back screaming for attention. I’m beginning to understand why he complained so fervently every single week, and I understand it because now I feel like I’m becoming Jack Washington. Denied the very right to the championships I deserve, in place of undeserving scum sucking filth like Ben Jordan. Like Bill fucking Barnhart. And like you, Goth. The undeserving failed challenger who took my spot. Who took my opportunity from me and then squandered it. Threw it to the wayside and failed to capitalise. But that is our story isn’t it, Gerrit. Ooh, ahh. Let’s get personal with this one, shall we?”

“Let’s really get down into it, because I’m sick of the facades, the masks and the lies we tell ourselves. I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not, and I’m tired of you pretending to be someone you are not. The babbling god talk is, for sake of simplicity, horseshit. Bland, boring and uninspired. At least when your old friend, your fellow Savior would talk, there was substance to it, Gerrit. There was this certain power behind the words. There was this belief that I could have in that man. He wasn’t using godliness as an excuse, he wasn’t using it as a sled to the bottom of the hill. No, there was a power in Ken that you do not have. A power that I refuse to accept you even fully understand. But that’s okay, I’m here to show you the truth. I’m here to help all lost sheep be guided back to the truth of it all. That none of you fucking matter and in this puddle, I am the only fish that gets to eat.”

“I can hear it now. The numerous ways that people will talk about it. How Alexander Raven cannot get a win. How Alexander Raven continues to fall at the feet of Goth, how even now. When he was so close to being the one on top of that mountain he floundered at the feet of those who are better. Better? Nobody is fucking better than Alexander Raven. Bad luck and a bad run. A ticking engine that doesn’t allow for the motor to cool down. I haven’t had an extended break. I haven’t more than a few weeks off in the years that I’ve been back. I don’t take time off, I’m always working. Always trying to get better. I’m putting metal spikes in people’s heads, and having my arms ripped open on glass shards in foreign countries where nobody can understand me screaming for help.”

“I’m out there competing with the juggernauts of this industry. So you’ll have to forgive me, if I’m a half-step too slow when I come home to roost. You’ll have to forgive me that I’m just having a bad time of it lately. But the wheel of fate changes and in time, in turn and in reality. In all the facets of the life we live, there is a change in the wind. And the shrinking water droplet can only get so small before it can no longer hold all of us. I wonder, Gerrit, if you feel the noose tightening like I do? Do you think that they will take pity on you? Or will they hold you at knifepoint, blade pressed to your throat and demand that you continue to dance? To dance for the money, for the peanuts and for the applause. Do you think they like you more than they like me? I don’t think they like any of us anymore. I don’t think they actually care anymore. No, because if they cared, they wouldn’t be serving us up for the third time in less than six fucking months.”

“No, I think they might hate you just as much as they hate me. Pitting us against each other in the first round of that tournament in the hopes that it would break us. Pitting us against each other in hopes that one would take out the other, and then the betters, their favourites would make it all the way. They got there in the end, didn’t they, Goth? Finn Whelan stands at the peak of the mountain once more, and the golden child is the king. That’s what they wanted from us, and we gave it to them on a silver fucking platter. So whilst you were failing, in the same way you failed before. I was putting the nails in the coffin of the Cockney king himself, Ben Jordan. Oh, but oh, I hear you cry. Didn’t Ben make you pass out poor Alexander? Alexander the not great. The fallen king himself falling ever further to the British bastard himself.”

“No, no, dear Goth. No, that's not right. That’s not right at all. Ben may have left as the winner, but all it proved was that I am right. Those things I have been saying for months, for years now. That there is a whim from the higher ups to put me down. That there is this desire to stop and end Alexander Raven before he can make changes. Before he exposes us for the villains that we are. The invisible hands are not so invisible now that they are in broad daylight manipulating and controlling the outcomes to their whim and desire. There is no competition when the competition is rigged, Goth. And when it comes to me and you, its been rigged from day fucking one.”


The knocks, rapid and light. Demanding yet comforting. There was a knock knock knocking at the chamber door. He wasn’t really much of a poet in the mornings, but something about this day felt strange. The night before he’d had the gun held to Sullivan Pleasant’s head. The night before he learnt that if time really called for it, he could be that killer. It didn’t matter if it was leaving his father to burn in a flame of his own making, or by putting a bullet in those who deserved it. Alexander Raven was less than he was before James died, and would forever be plagued by the thoughts of what he was capable of.

Luna was surprisingly chipper that morning, which should have set off alarm bells. It should have made him realise that things were not going to be all hunky dory for the man who just wanted to hide from the world for a while. Luna opened the door, and there were squeals of delight. Notably, there were two sets of squeals. Most notably he recognised both sets of them. The loud and the obnoxious, and Luna was far from obnoxious. No, that second set belonged to an old friend. James’ little marigold princess. Adrienne.

Alex groaned as he rolled out of bed. For having been dead sober the night before, he was experiencing one hell of a hangover that morning. He slipped on a simple black tee, pulled on a pair of blue denim jeans, and sat on the edge of the bed. The two girls had shuffled into the apartment. There was the distinct muted sound of suitcase wheels on carpet. A conversation he was sure they would have had if he had not made the decisions he had made the night before.

“About time someone came around to show everyone what a true ginger looks like.” Alex shouted out from the bedroom, as the two girls laughed. Maybe a blessing in disguise. Luna wouldn’t be angry or distant with him today. At least, not as much as she could and would be in normal circumstances. Normal? What was normal anymore.

He opened the door of the bedroom and stepped out in the lounge area. Luna was in the kitchen, making coffee. Three cups. He was expected to be more sociable than he already had been. What a wonderful notion. He smiled at her softly, a polite if somewhat hollow one returned. The stunning orange mane of hair of Adrienne shone brightly in the morning light. She was planted on a seat near the kitchen island counter, her back to him. She turned to look over her shoulder and beamed at him. The bright smile, the happy-go-lucky colorful girl. They may not have always got along the best, but there was something about Adrienne. Something that had always made him want to make sure she was safe.

Something that the Pasilno siblings had always admired. Luna and Adrienne had been roommates for a while, after James and Alex had stepped in to protect her from an abusive partner. They’d become good friends. He knew James would never admit it, but he’d also spent that time teaching Adrienne the finer parts of being a terror in the ring. Another to add to the Pasilno-Rabenschwarz dynasty of broken kids who found solace in the pain of being in the ring.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it over in time for the funeral. Apparently money doesn’t grow on trees, and I was the last one to be informed.” Adrienne said, a softness to her voice. Alex placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She in turn rested her cheek on his hand for a second, lifting her shoulder to gently squeeze his hand in response between her shoulder and cheek.

“Hands off, she’s my friend buddy.” Luna said, a stupid smile plastered on her face. Maybe the sleep had done enough to make her not hate his guts. Maybe it was the presence of Adrienne so soon after that was creating a buffer, and a future fight was on the cards regardless. He didn’t know, he probably never really would. For as good as he was at reading people, Luna had always been an enigma. Probably why he had been drawn back to her after all this time.

“Well, I’ll just climb back in my box with all my imaginary friends then.” Alex quipped, as he took the mug of coffee handed to him. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pant pocket, offering one to each of the girls. Luna took one, Adrienne took one, and he put one to his own lips. Walking with his mug in hand out onto the balcony. Breathing in deeply as the two of them followed him out. Maybe he should have stayed in bed.

“So, I know it’s short notice but I’m sure you’ll have no problem with it, Lexi-baby. Adrienne needs somewhere to stay for a little bit until she can get her own place. She would have taken the apartment over the bar, but someone has yet to sign-off on the transfer.” Luna said, the implication being that it was Alex who had yet to sign. That was wrong, it was definitely Luna who needed to sign, but he would wear the damage for the day.

“Good thing I bought a comfortable couch, with how much I’ll be sleeping on it then.” Alex replied, lighting his cigarette as he plopped himself down onto one of the balcony seats. Adrienne sat in another, as Luna dropped into his lap. Had he fucking dreamed the events of last night? Things were too calm. Too surreal. Too… normal.

“Thanks Alex. I appreciate it, truly.” Adrienne said gently. Always a quiet girl, but there was a big personality waiting to burst out. Timidity was not her modus operandi by any stretch of the imagination. But she hadn’t had the creature comforts and support that they had after James’ passing. She was grieving, and that was her right. In any way shape or form. There was another knock at the door. Alex cocked an eyebrow and looked at Luna. Luna shook her head, not knowing who it was. Adrienne also seemed ignorant.

Shifting Luna off him and into the chair behind him, he placed his half smoked cigarette onto the edge of the nearby ashtray. Walking inside he looked through the peephole at the men who stood outside. Two suited men, who by any stretch of the imagination couldn’t be anything other than police detectives. The way they held themselves, the way they scanned the nearby area. Alex swallowed hard as he opened the door. The two men looked at him, somber smiles.

“Mr Rabenschwarz, I presume?” The shorter of the two asked, presenting his badge. Alex simply nodded as he stood there, trying to keep eye contact with the both of them.

“You may not remember us, but you gave a statement at the time of one, James Pasilno’s shooting. We thought we’d make a personal visit to say we believe we have the culprit in custody. A man you know personally. A, Mr Sullivan Pleasant. He turned himself into police custody earlier this morning.”

Alex’s heart caught in his throat. Looking at them incredulously. It all made sense now. The reason Sullivan was out so late, the reason he was so accepting of his fate. The reason he had seemingly attempted to repent. Alexander Raven didn’t own Sullivan Pleasant, because Sullivan Pleasant didn’t play by others rules. He was always going to turn himself in that night. And Alex had given him all the ammo he needed to worm his way out of trouble.

The slimy fucking weasel.


“See, this game we participate in. It's rigged from the word go. I’ve done everything right and I continue to be punished for it. I played their game the way they wanted. I took the whippings that they decided I needed to take. I stood there and faced off with the kings they deemed in need of a lesson, and now. Now I’m punished for not succeeding at every step of the way. I’m being punished and turned into just another Jack Washington. I’m becoming the training dummy for all they wish to test, and in turn they continue to screw me every which way until Sunday. Have you ever had the referee end the match because they assumed you were out? That you were unconscious and not just attempting to play possum? No, I don’t even think they want to hurt you that badly. Not yet anyway. Not until you do something really egregious. Like losing to Alexander Raven. Like failing to stop him on his journey to exposing the truth of the bullshit that happens beneath the surface here.”

“No, I think we all know the reality of what happened in my latest outing. And I will not be allowing it to happen again when we get in that ring. See the only thing people remember, Gerrit. The only thing people give a fucking damn about is what happened last. They don’t remember every success. They don’t remember that you were the first into a match. They don’t care if you run the whole damn gauntlet, they just care if you stand as the victor at the end. Ben Jordan couldn’t lace my fucking boots, and you boy. You will see what happens when you piss off Alexander Raven.”

“See, I need you to understand me here, Gerrit. I need you to understand why this is getting fucking personal for me. I need you to understand that things I’m saying are not just the rantings and ramblings of a man lost to his own delusions. I need you to understand that I am a man who knows what the lies happening beneath the surface actually mean for us all. So that when this water molecule that holds us all finally bursts and only the sharks remain. You’ll know why I’m wiping your face off the bottom of my boot and all you can feel is the blood trickling down into your throat. I am not playing for the sake of being another member of the roster. I am not playing to be another body to be thrown to those who are touted as the superiors. I am not just another man who will play the games that they want us to play. No, I am Alexander Raven. I am the fucking Raging Raven. And before you even thought about being the Messiah of Pain, I was the leader of the broken. I was the king of the truth and lies. I was the Broken fuckin’ Messiah before you even thought of muddling about with your holier than thou delusions of grandeur.”

“You’re not a messiah, Gerrit. You’re not a leader, you’re not even the king.You’re just another middling nobody who in this ever shrinking world, thinks that they are getting bigger. Yet the more you stay the same, the more space you take up. And when you’re in the way of those who need that space. When you’re taking hold of that noose for far too long, then you will be punished for it. The punishment you seek to give. The punishment you pretend is owed to others and in it their salvation. There is no salvation Gerrit. There is no escape. There is no freedom. There are just the whims and demands of those who would control us. But it’s okay. I will free us from their chains. I will wipe your blood off the bottom of my boots and paint a beautiful picture. A picture of the future. A future without delusional freaks like you. A world where the Alexander Raven’s of society are no longer held down.”

“I’m offering you true freedom. An escape into a world free of the pain and suffering that you feel is so obligatory. I’m offering you the truth. I’m offering everything you think you can give, and demand praise for. I demand no thanks, no praise, no love. I demand nothing but honesty. And honestly Gerrit. I don’t even think you deserve it. But that’s what giving is. It’s giving to all, even the fucking unworthy. So come Climax Control I need you to understand. I need you to listen. Everything begins and ends with you. Because I finally understand what. Do you?”

“Are you listening to me?”

And then…

Darkness.

Silence.

Nothing.

Sorry for only having the CD part. Don’t want to sit on this one, but also cannot beat this sickly feeling. Sorry everyone involved.


If James could see this, he’d have been sick. He’d never wanted to be remembered at the end of it. They all had just assumed he’d outlive them all. Outlive everyone and he could crack jokes and keep everyone happy and jovial at every one of their funerals. The one to keep others from being sad. How cruel life could truly be. How cruel the world could be when they wanted nothing more than to escape from it. Luna sat front and centre. Her eyes were red raw, but she’d long stopped crying. Her face puffy, her spirit broken, but finally her tears had run dry. Alex was a husk. Hollow and empty, and sitting next to her. He’d rushed back from Cambodia, rushed back to be there. He’d seen a lot of death. Maybe more than any of them, and he didn’t make it look like it got any easier.

Eulogies. Eulogies were the worst part of any funeral. The worst part of a day that was already devastating. It was bad enough having to pretend not to be dying inside in front of her own mirror, let alone in front of a crowd of people she didn’t care for. The only four people that should be there, were Alex, Harrison, and Sullivan. Sullivan wasn’t there. Harry and Alex were. She’d elected to go first. To get it out of the way. But when the moment came, she found her legs would no longer work. Alex squeezed her hand and stood slowly. Dragging her to her feet. Making her walk up there, walk up to the quaint little podium that overlooked a surprisingly full room. That stood just to the side of the casket that contained her dead brother. It was fucking sickening.

“Firstly, I’d just like to thank you all for coming today. James was a man who… could make friends with a dead doornail if you gave him a minute and a whiskey.” Alex spoke, the confidence of his voice betraying the shake she could feel in his hand. A few laughs from the crowd followed. A moment of lightness. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Alex. I was… James’ best friend. Heck, he might as well have been my brother. I love James… loved James. But those who knew us, know that already. So I just want to tell a story. And then I’m going to hand the reins over to his sweet little sister, Luna.” Alex said softly, his voice beginning to shake a little. The pain etching itself into his words. She squeezed his hand and stood next to him as he pulled a piece of a paper from his jacket. Placing it upon the podium. It simply read, ‘I’ll always hold your hand.’ Luna smiled a little, turning to look at Alex. Letting herself be absorbed into him for a minute.

“James was someone who never gave up on his friends. He told it straight, told it true, and never let you get too big of an ego. A straight shooter, through and through. But boy, that man was a hell of a storyteller. So you’ll to forgive me, if I’m not quite as slick as him.” Alex said, another bout of laughter. A few more this time. Luna faded into the background for a little while. Turning from Alex to stare at the closed casket. Staring at the capsule that would later be lowered into the ground to be food for the worms. Her brother, just another corpse rotting in the earth, with no knowledge. No understanding if she would ever fucking see him again. Just gone.

“Jimmy was born to sling beers, and pop bottles. Man could make a cocktail like no one else, and just the mind that he had for it all. Unbelievable. So when we were hiding away on the other end of the world, and he came to me one night. I thought he’d lost the plot. Jimmy looked at me over a pile of empty cans and bottles, cigarette somehow stuck to his lip. He looked and asked, ‘When are you going to open our bar, rockstar?’. Half-cut, eyes barely open, but the firmest question he’d ever asked. That was night, he convinced me to go into business with him.” Alex spoke with a betraying confidence. She could hear it in the back of every word, his heart just edging to give out.

“I spent, seven days a week, close to twenty-four hours a day with that man from that night onwards. Saw me through the highs and lows, through not just one marriage, but now two. Kept my head focused when everything in this world threatened to derail me. Brought me back from the brink how many times, I lost count. I have a world of happy memories with James. A world of peace, a world of content. I have all of that, because he was my best friend when I needed him to be. The world is colder without him in, and I don’t know what tomorrow is going to look like because of it. What I do know? Jimmy would be raving mad if we let it get to us. If we gave up, if we slowed down. If we took a step backwards because of it, he’d be lining us up for a good ol’ one two, from the heavens above. I don’t believe in ghosts, but hell. Jimmy would be stubborn enough to be the first.” Alex spoke some more, his voice getting slightly shakier. She could feel the tremor in his hand.

“He always called me rockstar. Because when I was young, I thought I was going to play guitar, sing in a band, and take all the pretty girls home. I don’t have a musical bone in my body, and anyone who heard me sing, will tell you. I make cats on tin rooves, sound like angels coming down to greet the holy prophet. Jimmy always saw me as a rockstar though. The last thing he ever said, was that he was proud of me, and called me rockstar. Just one last time.” Alex managed to get out, before the waterworks came. He swayed, his hands trembling, but he kept on. Being her rock, as much as she his.

Alex told his story, said his peace. Said what he needed to say. Not for the gathered, but for himself. To put it into the universe that he would keep on, keeping on. The story about them making the decision to open Raven’s. She’d heard it before, from both. James was the better storyteller, but this time. This time it just made her think of the better times. The good times. Even if Alex and her weren’t on the best of terms then. Life was fuller then.

Then came her turn. Then came her moment in the spotlight. Alex stepped to the side, to allow her to stand centre. His note still laying there. His hand still holding hers. Helping keep her from collapsing. “Hi. I’m Luna, James’ sister. Alex’s wife. Sorry, I’m… a little lost at the moment. I’m going to do my best to… talk about my brother.” She managed to squeak out. A sympathetic hush over the attendees. The room was bizarrely silent. Too quiet. James would have hated it.
 
“James would hate this. People being sad, mourning. People hurting because of him. Jimmy would be annoyed as hell that you aren’t all knocking back shots, pouring one out, smoking cigars and tipping generously. If he had it his way, we’d have been nuts to butts in the bar, wondering when he was going to pop up and tell us he was just pulling our leg.” Luna said, gaining just a little bit of confidence. Thinking about her brother, his moments of insanity. It made her feel better. Alex’s grip was a little lighter on her hand now. A stupid smile plastered across his face. She was babbling, and it was refreshing.

“I keep on looking at the door. Expecting him to walk in any moment, yell surprise and make us all hate him. If only for the weekend. But I know he’s not going to, and he won’t ever again. It kills me to think I’ll live in a world without my brother. To live in a world where James isn’t part of it anymore.” Luna said, her words still soft. A hush heavier than before, but there was a stupid smile on her face.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to hear his laugh, or the dumb jokes. Or to see him woo every which person in a bar. But I’m grateful. I’m grateful I didn’t just have a great brother. I’m grateful that I had the best brother I could have ever asked for. I’m grateful that my brother was James Pasilno, and I will always have those memories. I will always be able to look at a room and imagine him strolling into it. Every whiskey I ever order, I’ll laugh. Because they don’t make it the way Jimmy did.” She said softly.

Alex squeezed her hand one last time, before letting it go and taking a step back. Standing on her own two feet. She looked up, teary eyes looking back at her. Smiles, sorrowful smiles. People she had seen in passing. Boyfriends new, old, and very old of James’. It was a mirror of the world he impacted. And they were looking at her. The only person that ever really mattered. Luna Pasilno, James Pasilno’s angel sister.

“I love you, Jimmy. I’ll always love you, and I hope. I hope there is a place where I can see you again. Where I can love you for the rest of your life. Fly high Jimmy.” Luna said, a light applause. Apparently, there was more eulogies. She didn’t want to listen to anyone else. No one else fucking mattered. They were the only two that ever fucking mattered. Her and Alex.

“Thank you.” And that was that. They walked down and resumed their seats. She just wanted to leave, to go. To claw her skin off and let the agony escape through her flesh. Her fingers had dug so deeply into Alex’s hand, she’d drawn blood. Neither of them noticed for a while. Neither of them really cared to. Everything was going to change forever.

---

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Sullivan: “Oh Miss Luna, how we have missed you.”

It’d be a long time since they’d all been in the same room. The Conspiracy as a whole. Alexander Raven, James Pasilno, Sullivan Pleasant, Harrison Rines and Luna Pasilno. Luna knew there was a reason they were all meeting in the old warehouse gym. Eight years ago, they’d all been here. Even Leon was still around there. The years had changed them all. Leon was completely gone. Sullivan and Harrison had returned to doing… whatever it was they do. Alex, James and Luna had run away to Australia, where Alex had gone and got himself married. Three years later, Luna was out of his life and James was the only one that access to the man she’d fallen madly in love with. She knew she’d messed up back then. She knew she’d ruined any chance she ever had of being the woman he met at the end of the aisle. But life had a funny way of coming full circle.

Luna: “Hey Sully, hey Harry. How are you babes?”

Harrison ever the stick in the mud, had always had a soft spot for Luna. Like the father figure she’d never had. A group of traumatised children come together under the guidance of the most traumatised of the bunch. Harrison flashed a warm smile at her, a slight wink before that sullen and hardened look took over his face once more. Sullivan took her hand in his and placed a kiss to the top. Overt displays were always the calling card. It was surprising that Sullivan still found himself welcomed within the group. He’d always rubbed Alex the wrong way. Guess he was less suspicious than she’d always thought him to be.

James: “Like the old days, ain’t it fellas? Ravey Gravy on top of the world again, you two giving him private sessions. Lulu and I on the outs.”

Raven: “You weren’t on the outs. You’d phoned it in, and Lu was more than happy to be the mouthpiece. Things change. Lu wants in the ring? Sullivan and Harrison are the only people I trust to get her into ring shape.”

James: “Oh Ravey baby, that’s where you’re wrong daddio. Lulu and I been steps ahead, we’ve been working on it for a while before she swooped under our noses brother. She’s good and ready to give it a phenomenal crack.”

Raven: “We’ll see. I’ve been working with Sullivan and Harrison for a while now. Taskmasters, to be sure. But they do good work. Though, I don’t think the training regiment would be the same.”

James sighed and shook his head, walking away from the beaten and aged practice ring that sat in the middle of the gym. Luna knew he was frustrated, but his heart was in the right place. Always the protector, he just didn’t want to see her get hurt.

Luna: “You’re so sweet Lexi. Throwing me to the wolves before I’ve even been calloused. What a sweetheart you are, lover.”

Harrison: “Unfortunately. We won’t be doing this job. You’re fair game Alex. You know us, you know how we work. Still can’t take a punch, but you’re learning. We won’t train Luna.”

Luna cocked an eyebrow, and looked at them incredulously. Harrison turned away, and walked to follow after James. She assumed they were now just on beer duty and were unlikely to make a return. It often went this way. James protecting her, Raven with an agenda, Harrison refusing to take part and then Sullivan and Raven would come to bang heads. No matter how much things changed, they often stayed the same.

Raven: “Leave then. If you won’t do it, I have nothing else to say.”

Sullivan: “Always a pleasure dealing with you, my liege. Just remember this. Your golden rule. Nobody need do what anyone else demands. We like Luna. Harrison has never, and probably will never, liked you. But you got us through some dark times, and for that there is a level of respect. But we are not your lap dogs. The Conspiracy may be forming again, but we told you once. We’ll tell you again. We will not be part of your games again, False One. Understand that, and understand it well.”

His face always betrayed his words. Cold as ice, distant. Yet forever that over the top smile stretched across his face. A fish-hooked mask that was as rubbery as it was fleshy. Alex was sitting atop a turnbuckle in the ring, his eyes fixated on Sullivan who was sitting on the ring apron, one leg crossed over the other.

Luna: “Guess you’ll have to streeeeetch me out then, Lexi baby. A real shame for you I’m sure.”

Raven cut a look at her, and then rolled his eyes. Sullivan dusted his trousers off, and hopped off the apron. He bowed low to Alex, before placing another kiss to the top of the hand of Luna. As if all planned, he too left to have beers with the others. Rumination etched all of Alex’s features. His brow creased in frustration, his mind far away.

Luna: “You knew they’d refuse, didn’t you?”

Raven: “Doesn’t matter. Guess the King will train the Queen. We can’t allow the uneducated lumps think they know us, can we? No. I will make sure that you break each and every one of them. Funny how fate turns the hands the same way. My first match was the opening of the evening. Only difference was I had some bad blood with the Branded Hen at the time. But the same, remains the same. I opened and started the path. You open, and you will show them the path. Simple as that.”

Luna sighed, as she pushed herself up onto the ring apron butt first, and slipped between the bottom two ropes. She stepped into Alex, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Six months ago, he would have recoiled at her touch. The words hadn’t been exchanged, but the truth was there. He had forgiven her at least in part. The only reason he’d passed on the details of the contract signing storm was because he had forgiven her.

Luna: “I won’t fail you, lover. I promise. I’ll do my best. I’ll show all of them their own vanity. I’ll even break the mouthy little cunt just for you. Just for you, love.”

Raven placed a hand on her head, and gentle caressed her hair. The gentle hand behind the ever stoic, hardened man. A softness she had so desperately missed. James had always warned her, ‘honeyed words is what he speak. I love him, but be careful Lulu. Pain follows that man, and we hurt for him.’

But for now, it didn’t matter. For not she had what she’d flown across the seas for once again. She’d lost him once. She’d caused him pain. Now she would put his pieces back together, like he had one done for them. She would fix his mind.

Raven: “I’m proud of you.”

That’s all he had to say.

Scene Two | On-Camera | 25th January 2023

“The show opener. The maiden moment. A chance to direct all eyes on the future. We’ve been gifted an opportunity, Miss Dawn. We get a chance to start the year the way we want it. Change upon the horizon, fresh and new blood standing eager to prove. Ain’t that just perfect for us?”

A quaint little apartment, with a small dining table, a set of chairs. One chair occupied by Luna Vanity, her flowing loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes dusted with a light reddish eyeshadow. Ear weights hanging from the large holes in her earlobes. Absent of the plugs that would normally fill them. A white shirt with red cuffs and neckline ‘Heart Breaker’ scrawled across it. Tight black pants, shining in the reflective light of the LED downlights that dot the ceiling. A large mug of coffee, more akin to a bowl, being held in the palms of both hands; steam wafting up towards her face. Eyes closed in contemplation.

“But sweet Dawn. Don’t be worried sweetheart. Unlike Alex, I’m not so much a wordsmith. Unlike my brother, James, I’m not a scrapper and smooth talker. A simple southern girl who has worked in some of the best and worst cafes in the world in sweet little Melbourne for years now. An escape from the humdrum existence I was expected to live. Keep it simple Luna, make yourself pretty Luna. Be what they want you to be, Luna. Not typical of the beauties that I was often expected to be. Stay in your lane, and be the person they want you to be. I wanted something else. I wanted to be different. Simplicity is key, I’ve come to find. There is a world of things that can be explained in just the smells and scents of the world. A cup of coffee to wake the mind in the morning is as easy and sweet as the drugs that flow up the noses of the fiends that ply their trade in the seedy nightclubs. Simplicity is key, but the euphoria is the same. The Queen of Vanity; perfectly opposite the King of Wisdom. Vanity is an acknowledgement of our mortality. Futile, empty and short-lived so tells us The Preacher who authored Ecclesiastes. I like to think of it differently, Dawn. I like to think of Vanity as the pride in one’s achievements. The pride in one’s own image. That’s my kind of vanity. Self-inflating the ego, and belittling the futility of others. True Vanity looks in the mirror, sees the perfection in itself and the empty lives of those around it. Narcissism is a term branded upon those who enjoy themselves. I think this is… well, it’s just not true, is it lover?”

She raises the mug to her mouth, taking a long and deep sip. A smile crosses her lips as she swallows, placing the mug on the small dining table in front of her. Left leg over right leg as she leans back in her chair. Eyes opening. Piercing brown orbs stared off into the distance. Dark brown, edging closer to the black of the pupil. The slightest shrug of the shoulders, the slightest shake of the head.

“You see, Dawn. Your name is interesting. Your name is poetic for what is to come. It was my dawn that lays before us. For me, this is an opportunity. My first match, ever. No longer the mouthpiece. No longer the pretty side piece. No longer the woman who has to stand beside the others and perpetuate their ideology. No, this is my dawn sugar. This is my chance to be something more than the simple girl who brews coffee, bats her eyes and smiles behind a mask. This is my chance to reach my apex. To throw aside the futility of existence, and to find purpose in the purposelessness of it all. Self-love is what I aim to show the world. Self-love is what I offer to all. Call it conceit if you will, but really. We both know what it’s like to be in the shadow of others who seem so much grander, so much greater than us. Family is something that ties even the greatest of performers in binds that they wish to break free of. The Warrens and the Pasilnos. We aren’t a great wrestling family, but we have our ties that plunge deep into this world. For James, he had to escape the futility of attempting to live up to our non-existent Father’s legacy. For me, I want to escape the pointless existence that I was expected to live. And so, in the dawn of my beginning, I have you. I have you sweetheart. Sweet, pure, Dawn Warren. But enough of the twisting words, lets talk real shit.”

The narrowing of the eyes, the creasing of the brow. Frustration etching itself across her face, a flash of ice through the eyes. Piercing, cold and with malicious intent. The twitch of the lip, the flex of the fingers. Irritation covered all of her features for a fleeting moment. And then, serenity once more. Eyes opened, a warm if not fake smile. The flash of teeth, her hand running up into her head pulling it over her left shoulder.

“So Dawn, I think you have an idea of me now. I think everyone has an idea of who Luna Vanity is. But I’ll make something clear. I’ll make it clear to you, and when I come off that top rope and you find yourself staring up at the bright lights, I want to make something clear to everyone. Luna Vanity is her own fucking person, got it? I am not the image that anyone will make me to be. I walk to my own beat and I walk to my own volition. Pretty and vain and pretty vain in my own right, but something I want you to know. You spend enough time around seedy people you learn something. You learn that you can’t just be the simple girl. You can’t just be the person others want you to be, because if you were, you’d be under their thumb for life. And I refuse to be somebody else’s bitch. I refuse to be less than my best, and my best will come as I discover my limits. My best will come as I put down anybody they put in front of me. For failure is not acceptable to me. I was broken once, and I used other people to put me back together. I had no idea who I was, I had no idea what I wanted. I hurt those I loved for my own selfish self-love and I do not regret the decisions I made to become who I am becoming. So Dawn, I want you to know this. This may be my first match, ever. This may be the first time I put flesh to flesh and aim to put someone down for the one two three, but you need to understand who I am.”

“I am Luna Vanity, the fucking QUEEN of The Conspiracy. I am the future, past and present. Confidence seeps from my very pores because I know who the fuck I am. I know where I come from, where I’m going and where I want to be. And through you, I make a statement. Through you, I make a choice. Through you, I show people the power of their own self-love and the weakness of their own vanity. I will show you, the futility of who you are. I will show you the futility of being somebody else’s pet project. I will show you the futility of being less than your own person.”

The smile remains, though any warmth is long gone. Pained almost. Her eyes close once again, a hand waving slowly over the steam wafting up from the mug. Wiggling her fingers slightly, she breathes in deeply. Slowly she uncrosses her legs, pushing up and standing. Moving the hovering hand she scoops the mug up, and takes it in both palms again. Another deep inhale, breathing in the steam.

“But less of that, and more of getting to know each other, shall we? Lion’s Mane Tea has become a staple of mine. Whether or not it does anything, who knows? But the idea of healing heal the ailments of the mind. That means a lot to me. See, I wasn’t lying when I said I was broken once. I may be many things, but a liar is not one. Depression, and anxiety were and still are, demons that hold my mind. With all the self-love in the world, the conceit. With all of my vanity, there is still parts of me that aim to take me down. Happiness eludes those who seek it, and so in finding myself, I find ways to fight those demons. Happiness to be seized and pushed. Truth and guidance. All things in the magical teachings of The Conspiracy. And though many will mock, as I do. And though I will laugh and snort, and joke. The truth is that acceptance for being who a person is, truly accepted. Well, that goes a long way. A dawning of a new reality for those who cannot accept themselves, now that. That is what I aim for. It’s what we all aim for, is it not? To love yourself. To be happy with oneself. To fight the anxiety and the depression. To support your own body in its inability to truly grow. One voice cannot hope to stem the tide of rejections. The stained glass lies, if you will. No, but two voices makes a louder noise. Light and acceptance for those who wish to be better than they are. To be lifted from the muck and to be one in touch with themselves. You see, sweetheart, I know who I need to be. And in my decisions, my own decisions. In those, I become better. I become happier. I become excessively proud of who I am, the achievements I will reach. For my vanity comes from the understanding of who I truly want to be. The Queen who sits upon the throne, and gazes across not at lesser persons. But as equals. As lovers, as partners, as friends. Equals. No one above, and no below. Guidance and truth. Vanity at its apex, so that all the self-love is just that. Love.”

“And I know, I know. People will say that it’s brainwashing. That it’s holier than thou behaviour. It’s easier to belittle those with confidence in themselves than it is to wish them to be more than they are. But more than you are, is who you will be. It is who I will be. It is who everyone will become. Better for having tried. Better for giving love to themselves. Better for being… vain. So let me ask you Dawn. Are you ready to be the dawning of my own message? My own beginning. I don’t wish to fail. Failure… failure doesn’t sit right with me. But I do know this. A beginning sets a tone for growth. And so, I want to thank you Dawn. Whether or not you are truly ready for it. For helping me spread my message, of self-love. And show people the futility of fighting the inevitable. The inevitability of the change that is coming.”

Another sip, a few steps towards the kitchenette. The mug upon the counter, the slow drag of fingers across the counter top. The slow stop, palms face down on the counter. The smile gone once more, eyes open. The cutting gaze, deep hues fixated on something far away.

“The Conspiracy is here. And change is coming with it.”

And then.

Darkness.

Silence.

Nothing.