Carrying the flag
”So, what exactly is wrong with you?”
It was like a ny other day at Wolfslair. The sound of chatting, instruction and bodies hitting the plywood and steel of a ring echoes through the large New York Gym. I’d imagine it was the same over at Wolfslair Orlando. The members of SCW who had been over in Greece and were preparing to go back all stood around near the office. Alicia Lukas popping grapes into her mouth as Finn Whelan, uncaring and bored of the conversation already checked his phone.
Austin on the other hand had his large arms folded over his chest, staring at Alex Jones, his friend and mentor. Leader of the gym anf the group. Johanna Krieger, former member of the SCW roster sat to the side, an eyebrow raised as she too was curious about the commotion. Alex sighed and shook his head looking up at AUstin with a smirk.
”Always to the point aren’t we Aus?” Finn raised an eyebrow before turning on his heels and going to talk to Sonya. Alex reached up and scratched the back of his head aa Alicia impatiently tapped her foot. Alex gave a small nod and stood up, looking at the two original members of the gym and the group. ”Lets just say I need surgery and leave it at that….I won’t go into details but my knee is basically being held together by duct tape and the hopes and dreams of my agent at this point…”
Alicia couldn’t help but chuckle at Alexs joke. Austin however looked more dour and disappointed. Alicia reached forward and tapped Alex on the shoulder with a comforting nod she turned and moved toward the ring, eager to get some training in before the Queen for a day match. Austin on the other hand folded his large arms over his chest and grunted under his breath. ”So…what’s the timeline?”
”The timeline?
”For your recovery? When can you start getting in the ring, or even doing rehab? When is the surgery scheduled? Austin stayed still, staring right at Alex who sat back down, his right hand going to his knee and staying on his kneecap with a small sigh and a shake of his head, he looked away and then around the gym at all the eager, young faces. So many champions and ones with championship potential. He couldn’t help but smile. ”I know that look Alex…you’re not going through this whole “I might retirer” shit again are you?”
Alex lightly rubbed the sides of his knee and looked back up at Austin. ”You’re talking like I have a choice this time kid…” Alex still called him that, Austin resisted the urge to wince, instead staying silent and looking down at him. ”In the pasr I thought about stopping because I questioned my place in the business, my place doing this and wondered if I was still good enough. I answered those questions. Being the world champion again, having a better run that actually mattered, doing what I did with the roulette title…but this…this one is out of my hands and my control Aus.”
Austin clenched his jaw and shook his head. ”Nothing is out of your control. Least of all this. Surgery, recovery. Medical science is a hell of a thing…”
Alex chuckled and sat back, leaning against the brinck wall behind the small bench he was sitting on. ”Yeah, yeah it is. And 9I could come back. Get my knee repaired, work my ass off in rehab. Live like a hermit for a year and push through all that pain to get back to where I can be medically cleared. But…truth is Austin I just don’t know if I have that in me anymore…”
Austin growled, his eyes burned and he wanted to slap Alex as hard as he could. Instead he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ”You didn’t answer my question. What is the timeline?”
Alex nodded slowly. He puched up to his feet and groaned as he did, the amount of strength it took to lift his body beind shouldered more to his left as he favored the other side. [color=red’”Six months after the surgery to start working harder, maybe nine to ten months total before I would be close to cleared…”[/color] He trailed off anfd shruggfed. ”When you’re young, nine to ten months seems like nothing. Liek you could do it standing on your head. But now, at my age and how long I’ve been doing this or how long I have left…would there really be a point?” He paused again Austin leaned close and shook his head.
”There is always a point Alex…Always”
”Is there really? What else ha ve I got to prove? I’m not a young wolf like you. You’re still in your prime. You have lots more world titles ahead of you. Alot more matches, alot more to prove.” He trailed off and took a deep breath before snapping out of it.. ”Besides, this is your time anyway. You have alot more to look forward to. And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here and I’ll be hanging around SCW….”
Austin clenched his jaw and paced back and forth looking more and more agitated. Hisd blood boiled, his eyes burned. He was frustrated and bordering on angry. ”It sounds like you’ve already made your fucking decision. That you’re already defeated and done. That your career is over like…like this”
”Like what exactly?”
Austin’s voice raised, probably a little louder than he really meant it to be. His chest puffed out and he pointed at Alex with another growl. ”With a goddamn whimper instead of a bang. Your career, a ten time world champion, a guy who has been all around the world. Like this….one last match against that little shit Jack Washington…JACK WASHINGTON…you want your last ever match to be a loss. To him?” Austins words stung, but Alex kept his cool. Austin was just angry and frustrated, Alex understood but stayed silent. ”Come on man….that isn’t you.”
Alex just smiled and shook his head. ”Kid, I haven’t made a decision yet. I will see how I feel and I will see what I can or can’t do. I don’t even know if the injury is that sever. It was a preliminary exam. I’m just prepared for the worst. And if it is the worst, I will asses and evaluate. But…as far as the last match…” Alex looks over at everyone and then back at Austin. ”My legacy won’t be boiled down to my last match or one loss. Or even one win. I know where I am in the world and what I have done. But now Aus, now it’s your turn to go get that crown…and flay the flag of Wolfslair…”
In the age of kings.
”Athens Greece.”
Austins booming voice opens us up. It’s a beautiful day in Athens, and Austin, all six foot six of him is sitting in front of the Acropolis. The iconic citadel overlooking the historic city. A small smile comes across his face as he looks up through the veil of long brown hair that flows down.
”It’s strange being in such a historic place. The birthplace of true civilization. Of government and of the olympics. A place that was so instrumental top the advancement of the human race that the Romans stole the entire thing and decided to maker their entire world about it. What a fitting place to hold a show that will have a match with such immense magnitute….Six men. Six men and one crown swaying high above the ring. You climb that ladder and you get to hold all the power…”
“Power…”
“This city was thew seat of power for the entire world at one point. A place that held the entire future of the ancient world in it’s hands. A place that gave birth to some of the most iconic gods and monsters in antiquity. Ones thjat echo through the ages and have inspired countless tv shows, movies, books, video games. But I prefer to think of the real, the tangoible. See, one of the greatest generals and leaders in human history was Greek, he wasn’t Athenian…he was macedonian. Alexander the great….”
“And…as arrogant as this sounds I feel a kinship with the man…”
“He was a man that had to live up to the lofty expectations of a father that was a legend in his own time. See, ALexanders father was a king of kings. A man who took his army against the mighty army of Athens and forced them into peace. ,He forced them into recognising their autonomy. Something that wasn’t really done then…and his son, lowly little Alexander was given the task of living up to his father Phillip….much like I had to live up to my own fathers legacy. But, much like Alexander….well…”
Austin reached down placing his bands on the marble steps, pushing his way to his feet and looking up at the towering, remade structure and smiled.
”I have surpassed my father and anything he or my family lineage had done. And that shows no sign of slowing down. As I gear up for the king for a day match I wonder just what I would do oif I took that crown down. What am I capable of and what kind of Chaos could I inflict on everyone. Of course if I was top win it, I would indeed be that assholke who would book myself in a world title match. And at this point it would be to save the damn thing…cause, I want you people to sit back and realise that in this king for a day match, we have Ben Jordan, Mark Cross and myself in it, and earlier in the night we will see Jack Washington, Fenris and Vinnie all in the ring…”
“We are all former world champions…”
“Men whop held that title proudly and made it mean something. Yes even in Mark Cross case. And what is that title doing at into the void? Hmmm?”
“I was all on board with Mac Bane being world champion. Unlike Alex I could see he was a fighting champion and a man ready to be one of the best. But, then as I looked closer I started to see those flaws. His disrespect, his actions toward everyone, like Alex, his own friends and even his wife. And now, to top it all off, with everyone in the company he could face one on one for that title the man he ended up facing was..Matt Knox?...really?...”
“That’s what the SCW title has been reduced to?”
Austin shakes his head almost in disbelief.
”A man who fucked Alex out of a rematch, putting the title on the line against a man who has done NOTHING to earn it? And, I don’t want to hear how Matt Knox is a “huge deal” outside SCW so he gets to jump the line. Matt Knox ix not a big deal anywhere except in his own mind. The only comfort I have is that if Mac beats him Matt will pack his bags and leave like he has at every other company he manipulates his fucking way into and lost a main event match in….”
“So, I need to win this damn match and FIX THIS SHIT.”
“But that will be easier said than done. In a match more about luck than skill, against five other men who are willing to go to the same lengths I am.”
“Ken Davison, Mark Cross, Ben Jordan, Agostino Romano and Alexander Raven join me in this match and only one of us can grab that crown and take control of the show. Only one of us can make Climax Control in our image and trust me on this, I’m not in it to play pretend king like others will, I want this for one reason only. To get my one on one world title match against whoever the fuck the champion is after Into the void…”
“And..well..give Tempest a bombshells title match cause she fucking deserves it…”
Austin scoffs and shakes his head.
”Come to think of it. Roxi Johnson and Myra Rivers deserve the main event spot over Mac and Matt, so I guess we really don’t ever get what we deserve do we? You have to take your own destiny in your hands. Much like Alexander did when he marched to Babylon. Much like the Athenian army did when they went to war with the rest of Greece against the Persians. You have to grab your own destiny and make the most of it. Something I’m sure everyone else in this match will.”
“Ken is a ,veteran and someone who has beaten me, don’t think I forgot Ken, I know how good you are, I know what you bring to the table and I congratulate you on your win. And if you do happen to become a god-king that you go after Mac or Matt and make them your bitch,,,:”
“And I am damn excited to see Ben goddamn Jordan across from me again too. See, Ben is a real former champion, a man who took that title and made it mean something. A man who, along with his wife were a true power couple. Ben Jordan is a man I have respect for. A man that I would like to shake the fhand of and tell the world what kind of champion he has been and could be again.”
“Shit even Mark Cross has that..”
“As much as I dislike Mark Cross because of his wishy washy attitude toward professional wrestling and the fact he spends more time promoting womens asses on Twitter than he does the company, I had to admire someone who basically rain manned himself into the world title….Mark has a proven track record of being able to bring it in big moments. So I get it..I get why he’s here…”
Austin sighs and shakes his head.
”I can’t say the same for Agostino Romano. One of the long list of disappointing internet champions that took a giant shit on the title I brought back to make famous. A guy who puts less effort in than anyone else yet still somehow, someway gets handed opportunities like this one. This spot could have gone to any number of SCW or SCU roster members and instead we get stuck with the skinny little turd who never takes anything seriously. Great…”
“But one of us has to do ths-...wait..”
Austin looks at his fingers and counts before tilting his head.
”I’m missing someone…Alexander Raven…the namesake of the hero that I namechecked earlier. I forgot about you. Much like all of us did soon after you made your debut. A guy who looked like he was the real deal but much like a premature ejaculation was the ultimate let down and then just ended up as a stain on a cheap hotel mattress….”
“Tell me Alexander…what do you hope to accomplish here? Aside from just ebing a name on the roster.”
“See, aside from Ben, I’m the only one in this magtchy that feels truly special. Ben has always held that place in this company, Ken is a great veteran and Mark has history and an uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time…”
“But Agostino and Alexander Raven?...give me a break…”
“Athens Greece…King for a day…the rest of you?...will be fools for a lifetime…:”
Scene One
Kings and Failures
On Camera | 07/05/2022
“To be King, is not just to rule. It is to lead with divine right. How fitting that in the land of failed rulers, marred by the murk of conquested restructure and manipulation of history that our own King shall be named. King for a Day? How apropos that is. There is none that stand among us as the true king. Much like the much contested origin of the Macedonian King, Alexander the Great, so too is the conflict for the meaningless mockery of a day title. No, we stand here in the land of risen and fallen kingdoms, empires and failed experiments of human sacrifice, bloodletting and oppression. A true king leads by example, rules with empathy and understanding, but is chosen by his divine right of birth. Luck plays as much as conquest.”
“To be King for a day, is to mock the very tribulations that I have overcome. I will ascend the ladder, as my own broken prophecies have deigned. I will take the crown, but for a day? No, I will make them see the folly of their ways. Empty words some might say. Perhaps. Yet my mind has not been focused has it? Obsessed with the past. Obsessed with the direction of where I have been, compared to where I am. Where I am meant to be. The one true king, yes. The most successful of generals know the sting of defeat. The most successful of kings know what it is to lose. Forged in fire, is the path of success. Focused is what I have become. Understanding of the shortcomings that lead to this. Lessons taught by the lesser are still lessons to be understood.”
“I mocked the dog, and caught its bite. A mangy mutt to be put down, and avenged I shall be. Yet lessons taught must be learned unless willing to accept the insanity of a returned fate over and over. The pigeon man will control his birds only so far as he draws breath. To keel is to allow yourself food for the birds themselves. Ravens are loyal, but food is paramount. I have felt the sting of the beak, the peck of the mind. I have felt the crown snap from the brutality of what is presented. Broken body brings us to this fate. The wolf howls and the pack mangles. Yet the head will always protect the lesser first. To be mangled by the jowls of the prime pack animal is a blessing and a curse. Like the spartans of old, to become a man, survival is key. Understanding that the wolf is not as dangerous as the man. Understanding that the bite is far worse than the bark, and your bite must be more. Kings are no more than the lesser man with the power to lead. King for a day? No, King eternal until the final dawn breaks.”
“Listen to this, and listen well. Bulldog, Knox, Fenris. I thank all for the lessons taught. Lessons that have opened my eyes. Lessons that will be passed on, and forced learning begins. I am Alexander Raven. I will open the eyes of the world. I will make them see. The crown of bone and flesh that rests upon mine own head, is not one of fiction. Yet one born of a necessity. I will make them understand. I will make them follow. I will make them see. My eyes are open, and with open eyes there is but one thing to do.”
“Five men stand before my rights of retribution. Five men will battle for the right to be king, yet they do not understand their folly. Focused and ready. The bird soars high. A ladder acts as my mountain, and atop that mountain the crown I seek. Ken Davison, Mark Cross, Ben Jordan, Austin James Mercer and Agostino Romano. The Godly Ken Davison seeks his divine right as the king of kings. The king of the track, the jovial Romano seeks to be master across many. To Cross the king is to leave yourself Marked. Like many before him, King James seeks to be the next, and like many others a Jordan who fails to live to the success of the master. Reality, gentleman. Understand that this is not your day. This is not your night. This is not your time. In this, the land of mythos and kings, you will face this one truth. Alexander Raven is here to stay. Alexander Raven will not be laughed at anymore. Alexander Raven is the king of your future.”
“In this land of foregone kings and failed revolutionaries. I will make a stand. There will be a King they can be proud of. There will be a reality that they can acknowledge as the one truth. No more will their failures. Even the greatest of kings one day fell. Like my namesake before me, and the kindred bird of my family name. I will stand as king, and I will return greatness to it.
Alexander the Great, will be known as the One True King, for I am great, my name is Alexander Raven.”
“All hail the king.”
Scene Two
Eye Opening
Off-Camera | 01/05/2022
“I don’t relish this Mr Raven. I don’t relish this at all. Yet you need to be broken, you understand? For only from a broken mind can you be built back up. From a broken body you can mend the bone and sinew. From broken, you can be full once again. Let me help you, Mr Raven. Let us help you.”
The sound of flesh on flesh. The crack of the knuckle to the stomach. Raven heaved, coughing violently. Pleasant and Rines were anything but gentle. Yet they always got him to where he needed to be.
“Again.”
Rines grunted, his white pressed shirt beginning to spot with sweat. Alex was unsure how long today’s lesson had been. Hell he wasn’t sure how long most of the lessons were. His body was sore and bruised. Impressively they never managed to hurt him too much, but it was enough to remind him. Remind him that pain could be overcome. That nothing was too much. Yet at the same time…
The smack of the fists to his stomach began again, the crack of a fist across his cheek. Then again. And again. Blood caked his face, yet he was no longer sure what was his, and what was that of Rines. His knuckles bloodied themselves across his flesh, over and over.
“Who are you?”
“Alexander Raven.”
Alex managed to croak out, Sullivan’s knuckles clashing against the side of his head. The backhand hurt more than almost any of the other strikes. His eyes blurred and his mind dizzied. Water thrown over his head, bringing some momentary relief.
“I asked, who are you?”
“I am Alexander Raven.”
Again the smack of Rines fist into his stomach, he leaned forward as much as he could. Being tied to a chair, arms restrained. It made it difficult to really lean into the pain. Sullivan grabbed and yanked at his hair, pulling his head back, straining the neck.
“Who are you?”
“I’m the fucking king. I am Alexander god damn fucking Raven!”
Sullivan smiled, letting his hair go. Rines loosened the binds, and he could finally keel forward, holding his stomach in agony. Water was placed beside him. He took the bottle and drank deeply, heaving and struggling to catch his breath. Today was harder than normal. Sullivan slowly dragged a moist towel against his face, cleaning away the blood.
“Never, ever forget who you are, Mr Raven. Never again will you forget. Open their eyes. Open their damn eyes.”
Sullivan smiled, his taut features pulled tightly across his sharp bones. The ghoulish smile was never really reassuring. A man of discomfort at the best of times. He placed the towel upon his shoulder and lightly tapped him on the side of the face.
“We’ll be watching.”
With that, the two men, Pleasant and Rines, turned and left their lesson. Alex lay on the floor, the cold cement of the warehouse floor was soothing on his burning aches. Recovery time. He would become King. A king must be in fit shape.
Scene Three
Pecking Order
On-Camera | 07/05/2022
“We in this world have a bad habit. We establish a hierarchy in our minds.”
“We speak things into existence and believe them the truth. I am not innocent of this. I speak of myself as a messiah, a king, a leader therefore I am. I am a messiah, a king, a leader. The truth of reality becomes obscured by the actions we take. Competition breaks the mental barriers we build and we reconstruct our own narrative to suit that of which we tell ourselves so as to keep moving forward. We lie to ourselves in lieu of the truth, for only in the lies does our reality stop bending to this false nature of this narrative. I am a liar among liars. Pathological in a sense. I cannot remember the real truth I spoke, yet in this. I have forced my own narrative to be as such. I do not just say I am a messiah, king and leader. I become a messiah, king and leader. Many tyrants across history do the same. They wish so much to be the one above all others that they believe. They become true to their lies, so that they no longer lie. That is what differs a true king from a false one. The pathological liar will become true, yet the false will fall asunder to allow the way for the next. Just like the gods fell, so too, shall we.”
“‘Ken Davison. Godly, in name. A proclamation more grandiose than even my own. Yet backing it up is your truth. A king among kings, one used to the slaughter of birds. Yet in this, the land of many gods, I ask you. When you stand in Athens, do you feel akin to Athena? Are you the giver of grapes, or the provider of salt water? Athena in her infinite wisdom did win the contest of the king of the seas. A gift to the people, to name the land on which they rest. Will you provide salty water to the people who look upon you. Souring their taste and purging their appreciation? Or are you a giver of the grapes? The one who they will thank and honour? Do you want to know what I think Ken?”
A well sits in the middle of a small field. Its body is decaying, yet it still stands. In front of the well is a small table, upon which a plate of grapes sits.
“You’re the Poseidon here. So cocksure that you will give the people a well of salt water, and aggressively declare yourself victorious. Yet when you open your eyes. When you finally see what I’m saying, you will understand. Athens was never yours to own, and it will never honour you. The gods will fall to the power of man, and the king of kings will stand above the others. Godly, is laughable Ken. Humanity needs to acknowledge their own humanity, and that extends for us who are most deluded. I ask you not as a worshiper but as an equal, to bow out. Open your eyes, and look. Do you see me now Ken? I will make everyone see me.”
“Everyone will see me, Ken. I am Athena. I am Ares. I am Zeus. I am the king, and I am the leader. I am the One True King, and I will bow to no more. Reality has come, and I will not be ignored. Everyone seems to think little of me, yet everyone has my damn name in their mouth. Everyone is obsessed with putting me out, and that is telling Ken. Who is the real danger here, but the Raven himself?”
“Open your damn eyes.”
The sound of thunder booms, blinding light obscuring everything. As the world returns, the well lays crumbled and in tatters, the beam that holds the pail alight with fire, embering slowly. The grapes however, remain untouched. Bright and purple, they stand immune to the destruction that surrounds them.
“Agostino. We cross paths again it should seem. In a manner befitting a repeat of the first. A plethora of bodies stand between us, and perhaps for the best. You know better than most in this match, that my words are backed by a real pound of flesh. You’ve been lucky enough to have your eyes opened already . You’ve seen, but you have not listened. For if you had, you would not be standing across from me again. If you were following, you would be face down at home acknowledging your own failures. Yet, here you stand once more.”
“Championships have bonded us together before, and I would believe they will again. For if you were king for a day, I wonder where you would place yourself. In the path of the Roulette title, the opportunity I took from you? Perhaps another shot at your coveted Internet championship, one you have failed to retain, over and over. Or, maybe you think yourself a true king. Maybe you would place yourself in the pathway of the main events victor. Who will it be? Perhaps thoughts not meant for this time, for the reality is this Agostino. Though we share initials, we are nothing alike. You are a worm in my world. A worm that won’t die no matter how much it is stepped upon. So I will feast, like the raven does upon the worm. I will feast and I will win. I will throw your carrion to the flock and the reality will become tantamount. You are nothing before me. You will remain nothing before me. You are… nothing.”
A championship belt, sitting upon a velvet cloth atop a small podium. In the centre of a wrestling ring. The initials AR curved into the face plate in large cursive letters.
“Yet history tends to repeat doesn’t it, Agostino. The champion will win again, just as he will lose again. Just as you have won the Internet Championship, you continue to lose it. Repetition of fate is unfortunately the cruelest mistress of destiny. Forever doomed to repeat Agostino, you will happily throw yourself down the stairs, over and over. A fool seeking new recourse for a repeating insanity. Yet this is also where we differ, isn’t it my fellow? Whereas you will forever throw yourself down into your own delusional reality, fractured and separated. Yet as insane as the nature of it all. I won’t repeat a mistake. I refuse to repeat mistakes. I hope you understand Agostino, that where you and I differ, is a victory for me will end differently to the last, whereas the next loss shall not be the same the one before. Keep your eyes to the sky my friend, for night comes for you. Open your eyes.”
A leg from the shadows beside the spotlight. The table knocked over and the belt was thrown into the darkness. Nothing but a toppled table remaining in the light. The leg disappearing back into nothingness.
“Mark Cross. I do not know if you understand the symbolism of your own name here. Marked for the cross, like the King of Jewish persons. Like Jesus was crucified, you too are marked for death and rebirth. Will you willingly take the crown, knowing it is the thorns of it that cut into your flesh? Will you reach for the success that you feel yourself marked for. I wonder, Cross, if you understand anything here. Are you listening to me? Are you following me? I need you to understand. I need you to follow. I need you to listen. Open your eyes, and look at me.”
“You are marked by me, Cross. The crosshairs are fixated upon you, and the fixation will put you in the firing line. Symbolism is rampant in this here, land of the gods. The city of the Goddess herself. This is a reality that you need to acknowledge and understand. I don’t care to know you, Mark. I really do not. Yet, like the false deity, and the laughable petulant child, you too, stand in the way. I wonder Mark. Are you a man of analogy yourself? Metaphor? Do you accept your own reality, or like all of us, do you stand here as a liar? A liar about his own reality. A man who deserves to stand beside the rest of us false idols, looking to realise ourselves, if only for a day. Will you be the marked one by fate? I wonder.”
A podium, a stained glass window illuminated behind it. A man with a black cloth draped over his face. A goblet in one hand, a crown of barbed wire sitting upon his head.
”Ideology will lead many men to do many things. Mark Cross, you are blessed with an unfortunate name. To be marked for the cross, is to crown yourself. To be marked for death, is to be the one held for martyrdom upon the cross. Whilst not the king and god of this land, the truth is ever the same. The Romans were not the natives of Israel, yet it is they who passed judgment upon him who was born of Nazareth. Such as he was marked for the cross, you too, shall be marked for my ascension at your sacrifice. Mark Cross, please know, I harbor no ill will. I am a forgiving tyrant. I am a pleasant dictator. Yet I am also a vengeful ruler. I will lead, and it will be the blood of those who mock who will pave the way to my success. There is but one dragon in my work, Mark. You are not the one who wore the title of Stygian. You will never be the Black Dragon himself, and I refuse to acknowledge you as anything but another false idol among many. A liar amongst liars. A man marked for my cross.”
The sound of a gun firing. The glass window shattering, shards of glass exploding out of the window frame. The coloured rain of glass falls upon the man standing at the podium, slowly tearing at his clothes and cutting the flesh beneath. The goblet catching many shards.
“Austin James Mercer, King James III. Names hold such power, do they not? I wonder King James, if you know the power of your own? My best friend, the Barracuda as he was known, shares your namesake. King James. He too was a king, a king for many and himself. The king of the bar, the king of the ring. A true king among men, with a tongue as slick as ice. A man I could respect, a man I could look up to. A man who would climb any ladder put before him and stare down at the filth that lay beneath it. A true king, for any man who requires people to worship, is closer to a king than almost any other. Do you demand the respect and adulation of those around you, Austin?”
“Time proceeds onwards, regardless of that. Like the many kings before, they too shall fall. King Leonidas of the Spartans would rise and fall to the armies of Persia. Alexander the Great too, was the Third of his line. Alexander III of Macedon. Yet do we acknowledge the insidious passings of the brother here? Do you fear a friend taking that of which you hold dear? Who would be your Ptolemy, King James? I wonder, do you even understand the symbolism? I never used to think myself one for analogy, for metaphor. Yet it turns out my whole existence is about it. About making connections, questioning those on their unknowns and asking the most obvious. Are you listening to me, Austin James Mercer? Are your eyes open? Open your eyes to me.”
Two men, faces covered in cloth once more. Sitting at a small table, goblets in front of them. Laughter, joviality, happiness. They tip the goblets over their heads, allowing the red wine to cover them, soaking the cloth.
“Bathe in it, Mercer. The possibilities before us, are endless, are they not? You stand in a ring with kings innumerable, and have the chance to seize the crown above them all. Champions, winners, and men of violent success. This is the reality that is before us, and it is ours for the taking. Yet I know, deep down, just like you know. Just like Agostino, and the godly one. Just like the one marked for martyrdom and the one who shares greatness. Insanity will break us, and it will enslave. You are just like the rest. Eyes closed, and unable to lead. Not yet ready to the be the truth that stands above. Symbolism is important, for the king who rules for a day can carve a lineage that none others will touch. The king who stands above the kings will be the truth. I am the One True King, King James. I am, not you. Not any of you. You will fall beneath the boot, I can damn well promise it. Open your damn eyes to me.”
“Open them to me!”
The two men throw their goblets aside, and launch at each other. Tumbling and wrestling as they grab at each others throats, attempting to suffocate the other.
“Ben Jordan. Another, like Mark Cross, to be a recent king. Ben, I hold you last for no qualm. There must always be a last, mustn’t there? I wonder, Ben. Did you hope to be last? No there is a reason, I hold you last Ben. For a man once took my crown, as he did yours. Griffin Hawkins owes us both a debt of blood, Ben. Like he stole your crown, he once stole mine. Yet I almost feel he neglects the fact I ever existed. Perhaps because his own friends once spat upon him too. To forget the life that he once had was easier than accepting the life that is. Just like you, and I, he too is delusional. Yet in this, I feel a kinship, Ben. A kinship of failure. A kinship of building disillusionment and anger. Rage builds and dwells in my breast like it would any man, woman, child, any one. Any person, any being. I harbor hate against you Ben, for you too, know my pain.”
“Anyone who knows my pain, knows that failure is unacceptable. That to avenge the losses of the past, one must ensure those that failed equally, fall beneath their own boot. You, Ben. You must fall beneath my boot to assuage the anger that builds in my heart. I must be better than the one who took my crown. If that means I must beat every person who also fell to the kingslayer in my existence, so be it. For I will be the truth at the end of the day, and I can guarantee that. For you know what this allows me? Redemption. I get one step closer to breaking Hawkins. If Knox wins in the main event, my choice of my own future match is clear. I will become king of Sin City. Not for a day, but for life. This match is far more to me than the ascension of a ladder. This is magnum opus of my words. Of the things I’ve stated. Of all the promises I’ve made yet to come true. Ben Jordan, are you understanding what I’m saying? Are you watching me?”
Alexander Raven sits upon the top of a ladder, straddling the top of it. Upon his head sits his broken and cracked pointed crown. A small raven skull at the very front of it. A smile stretched across his face, his hair pulled back tightly. His face clean shaven, his eyes focused, bubbling with an under lying anger.
“Athens is where I begin my path. Finally begin my path. I hope Knox doesn’t let me down. I hope that you give me the challenge I need in preparation for my pathway to redemption. I will snap the beak of the bird, rip the wings of the mythical beast, neuter the bitch and snap the wolf’s jaws. You will be the stepping stone of my pathway to my eternal ascension. This is finally the day that I know. The truth I know. Ben Jordan, the victim of the mythical creature such as I. You will fall to my boot. Open your eyes Ben.”
“All of you. Open your eyes.”
Alex takes the crown from his head, and lifts it high above himself. Holding it aloft. Slowly tilting his head back,and closing his eyes. He grips it tightly before pulling it in two, snapping it cleanly in half.
“Do you see me now?”
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.