(Quick OOC Note: Scene One involves themes around drunk driving; if this is triggering for you, please skip over it.)
Do you love me?
Scene One | Off-Camera | 20th March 2023
If there was one thing that people likely never thought they’d see, it was probably Alexander Raven standing on a table, shirtless, and dancing. Better yet, there was probably very few people who would expect Alexander Raven to be doing this in a full bar, and dancing to country music. Yet, in celebration of the start of the long tour in front of him, that was exactly what was happening.
James’ bar had picked up traction pretty fast. Regular customers were already a mainstay, and it was nice seeing James back in his element. Slinging beers across the bar, dancing to music of his choice and talking up a storm. Life had been going pretty well for all them in recent weeks. Things finally felt like they once had. Less two problematic elements of course. Luna tapped on his leg, holding up two short glasses, both sloshing with bourbon and coke. Alex smiled, and took one from her, taking her free hand in his now. With a big pull, she was up on the table herself.
Cheers, whooping and hollering from the bar. The clock buzzing a bright 1:30AM in the far corner. Still early, but they were definitely already flying. Luna smiled, stepping in close to Alex and drinking deeply. He downed the glass in one, one the bartenders nearby to take the glass from him as his hands rested upon Luna’s hips. Eyes locked with hers, hips rolling and smiles from both.
“You’re coming with me, you know that?”
She smiled and batted her lashes in feigned surprise.
“Get off the fuckin’ table!”
James yelled at them from behind the bar, shaking his head as he turned away to serve someone. And in complete contradiction to what was asked, they turned to press their backs against each other, and continued to dance on the table. ‘Louisiana Hot Sauce’ by Sammy Kershaw was proving to be a good soundtrack for the moment. ALex was truly happy, for the first time in a long time. Luna and he had stopped beating around the bush, and had given in to the feelings that he had actively been trying to repress. Fears assuaged by conversation, understanding of the faults. The cupcake was well and truly being enjoyed right now, and for the moment. He was happy.
The upcoming Blast from the Past tournament, as well as the Unsolved Mysteries tour meant that he was likely to be short fun evenings like the one they were currently having. But if she was going to come with him, at least he’d have some level of balance. Sanity to bring him back down from the heights he scaled himself to. Confidence was something he’d been brimming with, and now that Luna wasn’t beating herself up over not being an instant success, things felt serene.
“She’s lookin’ good as I’ve seen, strollin’ in her tight jeans.”
Alex wasn’t a particularly good singer, but that didn’t stop him from belting out power ballads when the occasion called for it. Luna stepped down off the table and grabbed his hand, pulling at him. A look of concern flickered across her eyes, and the world suddenly sobered up, just a little. Alex nodded and hopped down off the table, Luna waving at James as she pulled Alex into the back office.
“I need to talk to you about something, Alex. About… Leon.”
The door shut behind them, and the world was suddenly muted. Blood rushed to his ears, sounding like a waterfall in his mind. He nodded, as he moved to sit down in the desk chair. Luna pulled up another chair and sat near him, taking one of his hands into hers.
“At least somebody is going to tell me.”
Luna threw that icy stare, the cut throat gaze. He bit his tongue, for the moment at least.
“Maybe I could’ve timed it better, but. I need to talk to you about it before you go away. So you understand why I can’t come to at least BC with you. I’ll be there in Barbados, Scotland and Romania. But, last time I was in BC, with Leon. I almost fucking died, Alex.”
There was no sweet names, no happiness. Pain in her voice, and pain in her eyes. He gripped her hands with his, and nodded. The throbbing in his temples as the blood pounded in his ears. He looked at her, and held her hands warmly, nodding.
“We were driving back from a party. We shouldn’t have. He promised me he’d stay sober, but, he was clearly way too drunk. I didn’t really care at the time. I didn’t have much love for myself. I don’t think either of us did. But, we got in that car, and we went off the road. Straight into a tree. I made the mistake of getting in the car with him, but he promised to stay sober. He promised, and then he nearly killed us, Alex. That’s why James ran him off. That’s why Sul and Harry got involved. They made him know that he wasn’t allowed back. I can go anywhere in the world, but I can’t go back up there. I hate it.”
Alex moved his hands from hers, and slipped his arms around her. He pulled her onto his lap, and just held her. It wasn’t the fact that what had happened seemed so… insignificant in his mind. That they’d been hiding that from him. He knew that she’d cheated on him. In fact, he probably knew more than they thought he did. He knew that this happened when they were together. It baffled him that after almost dying, she broke up with Alex and went with Leon. But, he didn’t care about that. What he did care about, was that she was still here. That she was still alive.
“Do you love me, Luna?”
She wrapped her arms around him and nodded against his chest.
“Then I will count the minutes, until we can be with each other again. I will go, I will win, and then I will meet you in Barbados. And we will never have to think of it again. Leon stays gone. Forever.”
Dribbling Lies
Scene Two | On-Camera | 22nd March 2023
“You know. It’s funny Jack. I can hear your fucking voice in my head already. I can hear the dribbling bullshit that will flow from your delusional mouth. The lies and deceptions that you create, you validate the own distortions of truth that you perpetuate. I can run it down in my mind. You’ll talk about how you beat me before. You’ll talk about how you’ve got something to prove. You’ll talk about how my victories are tainted. That I talk too much, and that you don’t listen. You’ll dribble and drool, onwards and onwards, because that is what you are best at, Jack. Dribbling your bullshit onto your own chin and expecting people to give a damn about what you say. Admission by your own faults that you do not listen, because you don’t care. That it takes substance to change your mind, because in your own world, nobody is quite as good as Jack Washington. But failure has been the tale of your tape lately hasn’t it, Jack? Couldn’t hang with the big boys, and you failed. Couldn’t even beat Peter Vaughn at Blaze of Glory, and now. Now you find yourself scrounging for success. Scrounging for an opportunity at betterment. Scrounging for the world in front of you. And oh, what a golden opportunity lay before you. Two birds, one stone. You beat me, you pin me. The internet championship is yours again. Validation for the failure you had against another Savior in Goth. The man who beat you on that cruise ship. That faithful cruise ship that began the journey to where I am now. You pin me, you and your reluctant partner get a chance to win it all. Take my championship to elevate your own cockiness until you are validated in winning the whole damn thing, and getting your shot at Michael Harris. A man, who is almost a mirror image of you, Jack. Arrogant, full of bravado, over-confidence. A bully. It would be a perfect story come to end, and in it, you could finally ascend back to the top where you so rightfully belong. Isn’t that right, Jack? Tell me, when to stop.”
Okanagan Lake, the supposed home of the mysterious Ogopogo. The North American Loch Ness. A wooden gazebo, a centre square making up a seating area. Alexander Raven is sitting on the bench, wrapped up in a thick coat, heavy boots on his feet, skinny jeans. His beard is shaped down, and encapsulates his face more than it had. His hair cut, scruffily sitting around his neck. His eyes cast out into the distance, staring at the mountains sitting on the opposite side of the lake. The low sun glittering across the waters surface, a mix of yellow and blue.
“You see, it is funny how fate changes things, isn’t it Jack? So much arrogance from you, last we met. A victory held, and with that, a furthering of your attitude. Yet since then, what has transpired for us? I am on track, to be the most successful Internet Champion in history. Rivaling the reigns of the likes of Griffin Hawkins and Austin James Mercer. Looking to match, if not exceed Despayre’s overall defenses. Since you beat me, I’ve become the man you wish you were. The franchise, if you will. The face of Sin City. I am the one who chooses. I am the hunter. I am the executioner. And you would think it a matter of fate, luck of the draw that we find ourselves facing off in the opening round of the Blast from the Past tournament. You would think that a mystery of the universe, just like our dear Ogopogo of this wondrous lake. However, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Unfortunately for you, Jack. You are another victim of my list. Another blemish that needs to be whited out. A failure, that I intend to rectify. Prey, I have chosen to hunt. You see, since day one of my reign. I have actively chosen every single person I have defended this title against. And people may try and say that my success is based on that. Perhaps it is. But the truth, the truth is far more important here.”
“You see Jack, every person I have faced, I’ve owed retribution. Loose was the connection for King James, but still. He stood against me in the ring when I failed to become King in Greece. As did Ken Davison. Both former kings. King James was a martyr in my war against the blaspheming wolves of arrogance. A group that even now, bays and thrashes at each others bleeding throats. Looking for food in their desperation. Because failure has taken them. Truth has shown itself to King James, and frustration has brewed. I picked Fenris, a man who you know far exceeds you in strength and talent. I picked Miles Kasey, as a redemption for my failings against him when I was Roulette Champion. I picked O’Malley, because he, like you. He too had a victory over me, and I do not appreciate the blemishes. Kenneth and I, we are both hunters who sought the other. He to rectify my failing, me to give him the challenge he so desperately was seeking. And now, I stand here as one of the greatest, longest reigning champions. I am fighting fucking king, and I now get my final hunt. You, were my first choice, and you will be the last before I reach my apex. Are you listening yet, Jack? Are your ears cleaned out? Are your eyes open?”
A cigarette hangs loosely from his lips, unlit. His eyes focused out into the distance. He has a plaster on his forehead, covering one of the wounds he received in his brawl with Ken Davison. More than likely to cover up stitches or staples, or to keep the wound clean. Both hands slip into his coat pockets, his left hand wrapping around something inside the coat.
“Reluctant though you were, this may prove your last chance to show people you are anything that you suggest yourself to be. For, I doubt you, Jack. Victory or not, I have severe doubts about the man you perceive yourself to be, compared to the man you want to be perceived as. A reluctant entrant, just like your unfortunate partner. No offense to Bobbie, of course. But it is unfortunate for her, that you are her partner. Because I do not intend to give you any forgiveness. I do not intend to let your arrogance continue to trundle onwards unobstructed. For I do not like bullies, Jack. I’ve made that very clear. My actions are to prove two things. That this incestuous filthy Sin City is full of bullies and arrogance. And that the Stained Glass Lies will be shattered, and the broken will rise to prove the truth. Truth and cleansing. That is my goal, Jack. And it just so happens, that you are the most broken of them all. A failure in yourself. A failure in the eyes of those who give you opportunity that you continue to squander. Failure in your own self. You are nothing but an arrogant child, who is yet to fully comprehend their own insignificance in the coming kingdom. You are nothing Jack. Nothing.”
“But it’s okay. You need not worry yourself Jack. I know you won’t be. Because the dribble, the bullshit, and the arrogance will not allow you to understand the false reality that you continue to live in. Failure, after failure. And here I am, successful. Here I am, being the man, you wanted to be. For we both know, if you weren’t being pitied into this tournament, you would be floundering in insignificance and obscurity. Because nobody cares anymore Jack. The time of Jack Washington has come, gone and will remain in the past. A former king, with a crown ready to be melted down. For in this match, Jack. In this here match, we see the rise of the Kings and Queens, and the collapse of the false past of the Franchise. You represent everything I want to take down, break down and tear apart. That is what you are to me, Jack. A nothing, insignificant fucking worm. A bully who needs to have reality shoved down their throat. You, Jack. Make my blood boil. And if there is something we’ve come to understand. The angrier that I am, the more dangerous it becomes. Because you are not Austin James Mercer. You are not Ken Davison or Fenris. Hell, you aren’t even Miles Kasey. You are a shadow with a voice that is becoming harder to hear. And in time, Jack. People will forget how you ever even existed.”
Creasing of the forehead, his eyes squinting against the sun glare. A lighter comes out of his pocket, flame flaring to life. The end of the cigarette burning bright red, a deep drag, a heavy plume of smoke flowing out of small gaps in his lips.
“The true irony Jack, is that the last time you deigned it appropriate to comment on me, you spouted off a disconnected, arrogant and self-absorbed view of me. Poetry, mommy issues. Hell, you even tried to pick fun of my actual name. Sure, Rabenschwarz is a little bit more of a mouthful, but Jesus Christ Jack. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to do two seconds of research to understand that Alexander Raven is just a nicer way of saying a name that is a little bit fucking hard for dense cunts like yourself. You see, I am a man who holds a grudge. I will continue to hold grudges until I find validation in the actions I have taken in my revenge. Griffin Hawkins embarrassed me many years ago, and I am on track to dethroning one of his achievements. Will this satiate me? No. It is nowhere near enough. But it is a start. So not only do I hold resentment towards you, Jack. I cannot afford to let you win. For in failing to you, not only does that mean I have a second fucking blemish on my record because of you. It means that I once again end up in the shadow of Griffin Hawkins. Someone I secretly hoped was going to be a surprise entrant in this years Blast from the Past, because at least Griffin Hawkins is authentic to who he actually is. He doesn’t flout around pretending to be better than he is. He doesn’t have to tell people he is true. He doesn’t have to tell people that he is better than them. Because that isn’t what makes him better than you, Jack. What makes him better, and it sickens me to think so. What makes him better is that he is not an arrogant shoddy little bully. Griffin listens, you do not.”
“I hope this time, you actually listen. Because you are on a trajectory of failure, Jack. A pathway to the dregs of the gutter. Forgotten and ignored, because you are no longer the man you once were. Guess what, Jack? Neither am I. I am not the Alexander Raven you faced back in August. I am not the same man who stepped off that cruise ship full of bravado and confidence, yet delusional and lost. I am happier, I am more grounded. I have focus, I have success. I am the Hunter. The Broken Messiah, the False Prophet and the One True King. And let me tell you, Jack. Washington is going to be washed up, and you’ll have nobody to blame but yourself. Because you will not be the man who dethrones Alexander Raven. No, nobody will ever have that right again. I will beat you, fix the wrongs of the past. Blood another former king whose rusting crown will be added to my throne. A stepping stone for the success that I am on track to have. I will be the winner of The Blast from the Past tournament. Alexandra Callaway and I, we are of similar minds. Confidence, and understanding. Acceptance of the shortcomings, but knowing of our success. Just to make it easy for Jack, you can call us Alexoholics Anonymous if you must. Because a man who speaks as much of needing to be under the influence to even comprehend somebody talking to them. AA is probably something that you will need in the immediate future.”
A small smile crosses his face, his right hand going up to the top of his head. Slowly stroking a small spot on his scalp when mentioning Alexoholics Anonymous. Rubbing at a scar he received from his former partnership with an Alex. Another deep inhale, more smoke wafting from small parts in his lips, hanging the cigarette loosely from the edge of his mouth.
“Yet, you are not the only unwilling participant in this tournament, are you Jack? No, by fate itself you are handed a returning partner. A partner who is just as unwilling as yourself. Sweet, sweet Bobbie Dahl. The butt of every joke, with an ass to match the immensity of it. I feel sorry for the darling Alexandra Callaway. Embarrassing for her first encounter within this city of sin to be the embodiment of embarrassment herself. Bobbie, I cannot speak much for you. For I do not care about you. Yet you stand in the way of my progress. You stand in the way of The Kings and Queens of Sin City. You stand in my way, and because of that, you too will suffer. It is unfortunate for you, that Jack Washington was your reluctant partner. Unfortunate for you, unfortunate for him. Neither of you want to be here, and neither of you deserve to be. Flakes of the past attempting to be relevant in the coming era. The era where the Stained Glass Lies are shattered, and the filth is purged from the gutters of Sin City. What I do find interesting Bobbie, is that your last appearance in the Blast from the Past, it was Jack Washington himself who ended your journey. Yet on top of that, it has been almost two years since you even thought to give us your repulsive presence. Thank you, Bobbie. Thank you for being… a guarantee. A guarantee of failure. For even if you can forgive Jack for being the venom to your previous journey. You are not prepared. You are not ready. You, will be shown the truth. For I have every belief in my hand of fate. In Alexander Callaway herself. I have every bit of faith that she will put you down and put and end to the asinine and pathetic mewling of your retched re-emergence. Sorry, Jack. I know verbose language makes your head hurt. Mincing words is too much for the simple. But, I think, as unfortunate as it is. That of the two of you, somehow, Bobbie is the smarter one.”
He lowers the now embering cigarette from his mouth, flicking it up and over the railing that rounds the edges of the gazebo. The hand from his head resting on his lap, the other slipping his lighter back into his pocket. Slowly he stands up, walking towards the railing, dusting his thighs off. He stretches out his arms and leans down on his elbows on the railing, sticking his right leg out behind himself, leaning down.
“No longer will I be denied. No longer will I be ignored. No longer will I be treated poorly. Mocked and belittled. No longer, will I have to deal with people like you, Bobbie. No longer will I have to deal with arrogant bullies like yourself Jack. No longer will I need to put up with any of it, because going forward the fundamental truth becomes impossible to deny. I will end the wolves. I will end the bullies. And if I have to, I will end the fucking Saviors too. I wanted Mac at the end, because I wanted to prove. That the salvation offered in accepting the truth of the Broken, is far more than the false ideology that is perpetuated by the Saviors themselves. I am the most consistent person within this Sin City. I have said the same thing from day one, and yet everyone complains that I am unclear. I have made every effort to allow people to understand, to listen, to follow. I needed them to understand, to listen and to follow me. I needed them to do it, because it is the only way. The only way for the broken to be fixed. For the broken to have their salvation. To be guided to the truth, and beyond the Stained Glass Lies that encapsulate the filth ridden world beneath. And now, the journey begins with my final choice of prey. This is not a matter of chance or fate, Jack. No, this was preordained. I picked you from day one, and now. Now I am the hunter who will get what they want. You will fall beneath my heel, and Alexandra will shatter the dreams of the bouffon that is Bobbie Dahl. And for once, Jack. Instead of talking yourself, just listen.”
Alex slaps his hands down on the railing, a smile crossing his face as he looks out onto the water. His eyes narrowing, a look of concentration as he focuses on something out in the water. There is a faint shape, just above the water’s surface. A look of fake shock crosses his face, the blurry figure in the distance rising more and more out of the water.
“Alexandra, the second queen in my life. I have faith in you. I have immeasurable faith in the path we walk down, for I know this. That when it comes to winning this tournament there is no surer fate than the inevitable. The inevitable is at the end it will be Alexander Raven and Alexandra Callaway standing at the peak of the mountain. Kingdoms erected and thrones built in preparation for the monarchs that will take their seats. People have spent many an hour talking about how I didn’t make a big enough bang when I came in. Fluttered out, and failed to live up to their expectations. We will show them, that Alexander Raven was everything he said. And I will ensure that every single person knows exactly who the fuck Alexandra Callaway is. The True King and Queen will reign atop the business. That is the truth. That is fact. That is is fate. The Blast from the Past proves one thing true about my past. Double A lead to my first ever World Championship. So to match the past, this will be my blast to the success I deserve. Michael Harris, I’ve got my eye on you too.”
Alex stretches out an arm and points to the continuously emerging figure in the water.
“Well, that’s not a mystery is it?”
Alex takes a step back, and now it is clear. A statue of Alexander Raven sits above the water’s surface. A crown on his head, the internet championship around the waist.
“Ogopogo is clearly just a vision of my success from the past. A kingdom etched in stone. ”
And then.
A small, strange looking shadow just beyond they statue. It almost looks like…
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.
