It was kind of strange to think about. Luna and Sean had crossed paths a few times in the past. The TRIAD draft party, the finals of the Strength Tribulations. She was certain it had likely happened more than she even knew. But those were two she could remember. So colour her surprised when she didn’t somehow get screwed over with her pairing. Or at least, she assumed she hadn’t.

Part of her was expecting the Bill Barnharts of the world to be stuck with her, and as much as she loved the Barnharts… well. There’s some cruelty in this world best not thought of. Alex had somehow got stuck with Calaway again, and after she’d spent half the night cackling at the thought, she did feel somewhat sympathetic for him. As much as she disdains the woman, Alexander himself may have been quieter on it.

But boy was that woman not a pleasant thought in their household.

Duchess, their gorgeous short-legged Beagle, had decided today was a naughty day, and was making it an absolute agony for Luna to get herself put together. Her hair was half-brushed, and still slightly too wet to do anything nice with. She’d put on her primer and some foundation, but looked more like a ghost than a human being right now. Wrapped up in a dressing gown, and a cigarette hanging from her mouth she was about ready to give up on the phone call.

Alex was out on a walk. Why hadn't he taken the dog on the walk? Nobody could answer such questions. Clearly not the man who had decided to walk himself every day lately without the dog. But that meant that whilst she was trying to put her life together for the day, she had to deal with a decidedly naughty little hound. Did that mean she had lost track of time? Potentially.

But that would not stop her from attempting to get her life together, because if there was anything that Luna Pasilno was good at? It definitely wasn’t being a functional human being.

“What are you eating? Drop it! Drop it!” Luna started yelling as Duchess took off through the apartment, chewing away on something that she definitely was not meant to be eating. Chasing the animal through the apartment, she finally noticed the time. When had 10AM rolled around?

With her fingers halfway down the dog’s throat, attempting to pry whatever bit of food it had managed to find from her slobbering and excited jowls. She loved Duchess, but sometimes she really wished they hadn’t picked a fucking Hound.

So to say she was just the slightest bit spooked when her phone began to ring? That was an understatement. Successfully prying what was left of a lolly snake from the dog’s jaws, she went to pull her phone from her gown pocket. The dog took this as a moment of freedom, careening into Luna’s legs and sending her tumbling, and in the process? She accidentally answered that phone call.

Thankfully, assuming Sean wasn’t a foot guy, the only thing that would be visible on the call right now would be one of her feet as she had landed smack on her ass in the middle of the apartment. What she had not taken into account was now that she had to somehow have this conversation, after answering it with her feet being in view, and the sound of her going ass over tit.

“So, I didn’t realise the time. And… Do you have dogs, angel? We have this one crazy little demon. Duchess, named after Alex’s fuckin’ childhood farm creature. Anyway, we do not have an apartment big enough for this beastie, and she decided that this morning was THE day to run roughshod over us. So, if you do not mind a smidge, I’m going to need an extra… twenty minutes to put my life together. That fine with you, sugar? I can’t hear you, so I’m going to assume yes. Thank you! ” Luna started word vomiting, as she sprawled towards her phone. For emphasis she managed to hit the hang-up button with her toe.

Rolling over and pushing herself onto her feet, she grumbled. Duchess had decided that she was now all tuckered out and was going to lay down on the couch for an early morning nap.

“You naughty little bitch.” Luna said with a heavy sigh. Admitting defeat in this moment, she waddled her way back into the bedroom. Make-up being applied, hair dryer on and drying her hair. Nineteen minutes later, she was actually put together. The sniffling at her feet alerted her to the fact that Duchess had not continued her nap and was now wanting attention. Despite her earlier attempts to kill Luna.

Phone out, cigarette hanging from her lip again. Dressing gown off, simple white crop on, leather jacket over the top. Skinny black jeans, and she was a star in the making once again. Not the disheveled woman who previously answered the phone with only her foot.

“Come on sweetheart. We need to talk to the boy with the funny accent.” Luna cooed to the dog, playing with her ears and ruffling the fur on her head. Striding through the apartment, she stepped out onto the balcony. Twenty one minutes after the initial call, and she felt ready to be human once more.

Cigarette lit, a quick selfie camera check, and she was ready to go. Facetime may be one of the worst things ever invented. She was not a fan. Alas, the forsaking that one must make. She unlocked, hit the call history and held the phone out. Duchess clambering up into her lap. The goofy beagle, and the surprisingly put-together, sharp-featured lady. The call was answered, and there they were. Face-to-face once again for the first time in nearly seven months. Surely it couldn’t through a screen.

“Okay, once again. Apologies for earlier. This little creature is a menace until she’s had a morning lay down, and now she’s all better. But that’s enough about enough, lover. You’ve seen my dainty little piggies, so the least you can do is tell me a bit about yourself, Mr Brand New Daddio.”

Sean just looked mildly amused, as if he were still trying to get used to Luna’s nuances and personality. He waved a hand in a dismissive manner.

“It’s all good, Luna, it’s all good. I do find it slightly amusing though that you can go from German suplexing someone through a flaming table to getting bowled over by a beagle.”

Sean chuckled to himself. Luna smiled in response, ruffling the ears of the dopey little creature that was resting in her lap. A stark contrast to the violent woman Sean had noted.

 “Well, sometimes little baby angels like this one are the biggest trials and tribulations. People are easy, little doggies like this one? Now that’s hard, sugar. Alex wanted a cat, I wanted a dog. We compromised, and got a dog, and now she punishes me for my choices. She loves him, and mostly wants me to have an unfortunate accident. Don’t you sweet girl?” Luna spoke softly, the longer she drawled on, the more her accent reverted to home. Less of the world, and more of the south.

 “Well, I can’t speak for pets, although I am more of a dog guy myself. I do have a baby girl here though. She’s only a week old but she’s already proving to be quite the handful. If this is what she’s like in days I can only imagine what it’s going to be when she’s at school…”

Into view of the camera, was the image of a little baby girl. It was hard to see in a FaceTime conversation and Sean had clearly managed to do what most parents seem to and master the art of juggling two things at once. The baby’s face was smooshed up, buried into Sean’s neck as he leaned his cheek into hers.

“...but I’ll worry about that later.”

Luna swooned at the sight of the baby. The dog was a surrogate for a baby in her life. She’d never felt all that maternal, but there was something about the sight of children that warmed her inside. Though she’d never really want to put another Pasilno into this world.

“Animals fill that void. Raven got the snip many moons ago, and we can’t… we don’t want kids really. But I do love the smell of little ones.” Luna said softly, seemingly catching herself at one point.

She took a long drag on her cigarette, and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke. Something in her eyes spoke differently than what her words did. Her heart didn’t seem to entirely match up with her words.

“But enough about things that can’t use the toilet right, and smell like corn chips. We got some working to do, don’t we, sugar? So I’m thinking, we should go on a little friend date, climb some castles and see how we mesh as people.” Luna said as Duchess decided she was done being on show and took off somewhere. Luna watched her for a moment, before bringing her attention back to the call. Moreso on the little one, than Sean. The next noise that was heard wasn’t the strange Scottish-American hybrid accent she’d heard before. It was softer, gargled. It dawned on Luna that the baby had started crying.

“Sshhh, it’s okay darling, you’re alright! Yes, you are! Daddy’s right here…uh-oh, I think we have a code brown situation! Did you go fill your nappy? Did you?”

Sean looked off-camera. It was times like this, that she was actively reminded as to why there was some peace in the world in not having the little stink machines.

“Babe! Can you take Amelia for a moment! She needs a clean nappy and I’m on the phone!”

Moments later and a whirl of sky blue hair came into view on screen. Her face couldn’t quite be made out fully but Luna took an educated guess this was Mrs Parker as Sean gently off-handed the little one to mum.

“Thanks, babe, I appreciate it. Bye-bye darling! Daddy will come give you loads of tummy kisses after he’s done speaking to his new friend!”

He turned back to the phone screen.

“Sorry about that… Meet-up? Yeah, I think that’s a great idea, actually. I’ve seen your ring-work, it speaks for itself but from my experience, two people who are great in the ring but don’t mesh as partners tend not to do so well. To be fair, Alex and I probably should get along better than we actually do but I know he’s a decent guy so if he trusts and loves you… I’m more than willing to make the effort to trust you as well. I have some promotional work SCW have requested I carry out, part of my one-off contract for the Blast From The Past in Hastings before the show. Y’know, Promote Climax Control! You’re from the UK! Hype it up, cut a promo! Perhaps we can have a little catch-up, see the sights?”

“Get your lawyers to double check the contracts. Mark and Christian are sneaky, heartless fuckers.” Luna said sternly. If there was anything that was consistent in the Rabenschwarz-Pasilno household, it was a fear of authority and an assumption that their bosses were out to get them.

“Lexi-baby is… Lexi-baby. A heart hurt by the sharpness of life. He’s just protective of himself. Protective of those he loves, too. And we’re all just a little bit sideways of normal on this side of the broken fence, baby. But we always have each other. Loyalty runs deep in our kingdom.” Luna continued on. The comfort settled in a little; and with it a bit of the mask slipping. The delusional kids of The Conspiracy.

And then…

There was a loud crash from inside the apartment, and the tell-tale sound of skittering feet. Luna stood up quickly, and shook her head.

“I have to go see what destruction is being caused before I end up like a screaming baby too. I’ll message you for details on the meet-up later. Unless the dog kills me. In which case. Lovely talking to you, lover.” Luna said quickly, and without even giving it a moment to settle, had hung up and taken off.

There was a surprising amount of rubbish on the floor, and a bin that should definitely not be on its side.

It was going to be a long fucking day.


“My first year here, there were ups and downs. Rocky starts, rocky finishes. Transitional title reigns, and a less than stellar ride. But in that year I did something that almost no other woman in this company can say they even came close to. I beat Crystal for the Roulette Championship, and gave Jessie the two best matches of the entirety of her time around that division. I took the Queen of Hardcore, Alexandra Calaway and showed that she couldn’t even come close to the dance when I’m across from her.”

“I stood as the Queen of Vanity, the Queen of The Conspiracy and in that? I found myself. I found The Masochist, I found The Idol, Luna Pasilno. Shedding ideas, gimmicks and pretence. Shedding that to find myself standing tall. To find myself being the person I can be happy with. I said that this was going to be the year that I prove that I can hang. That I prove, I’m not just another pretty face. I prove that I’m more than the side piece of Alexander Raven. This? This is the year of Luna fucking Pasilno, The Idol of Sin City Wrestling. And to put my mark on it? I reminded everyone just who the fuck I am at Blaze of Glory. I broke a goddamn kendo stick over Sam Marlowe. I put that mouthy little bitch who’s crocodile mouth was writing checks her candy ass couldn’t cash, straight through a table.”

“The Conspiracy, Alexander Raven and Luna Pasilno, we aren’t here to fuck around. Oh no, sweet baby angels. We are not here to be the pretty faces and the delusional kicking blocks. We are here to show that we mean fucking business. If we’re going to be stuck here at the whims and wishes of the surrogate daddies, Mark and Christian. Then we’re going to take everything they love and break it. We’re going to throw that tantrum and spit the dummy. All the toys out, and all the kids made to cry. But right now? The Blast from the Past tournament.”

“The tournament that exists to strap a rocket to the backside of the next big names. A man and woman who, at the end of it all are guaranteed an opportunity at the World Championships of both divisions. Poetically, it would have been perfect if The Conspiracy got to do this journey together. A journey to the paired crowns. Winner takes all, would’ve been an apt end to what would have been a storybook journey. Unfortunately, the powers that be continue to pretend that they are benevolent and forgiving. That this is a case of random luck and random chance.”

“There’s no random luck in the fact that they paired Alex up with the bitch who cost him everything last year. The bitch that was the fucking unlucky thirteen for my dear husband’s twenty twenty three. There’s no random luck in that Alex is getting screwed once again. But in a shimmering beam of light. It seems that the surrogate fathers have seen the error in their ways. Punishing their perfect little baby girl, Luna Pasilno. That was a bad idea. Trying to hurt their ideal was a terrible move. Trying to hurt me? I ain’t going to burn down in fucking ash and timber.”

“So they’ve given me what I believe is the golden opportunity. Not the golden opportunity. But an opportunity regardless. Sean Parker and Luna Pasilno. The oddball couple destined to take the whole damn thing and show the world. See, I’m actually somewhat familiar with Sean’s work. Something we preach and follow in The Conspiracy is having our fucking eyes open to the world. No blinders, no ignoring what happens outside these doors. Sean is a multi time champion. He was the guaranteed draft pick in the Wit Trials of TRIAD. A series that includes some of the best in the fucking world to do it.”

“A man who went toe to toe with Matt Knox, Peter Vaughn and hell even Alexander Raven. One of few men who can claim victory over the reigning and defending monarchs of Sin City Wrestling. Sean is one of them. So with Sean at my side? I’d say that Kayla Richards only needs worry about one woman coming for not just the Bombshell Women’s World Championship, but also that lofty Mixed Tag Team belt. And though I have immense love in my heart and soul, and think the only marquee match that Sin City truly needs is the rematch of Alexander Raven and Finn Whelan, I’ll settle for Sean Parker. Every kingdom needs to be undone from the base to make it collapse. And so, if Sean needs to take the place for the interim. Then so be it.”

“But this before us? This is even deeper than that for me. Hello Kat, it’s so nice to see you back again. I do apologise for pulling the plug on our last head to head. Broken ribs are a bitch to push through, I’m sure you understand. And, admittedly. There was just a little bit of egg on my face for losing the Bombshell Internet Championship to one, Ariana Angelos, right after I’d made a mockery of every other woman on that journey. In fact, you were one of those women too, weren’t you? Yes, my precious little typewriter.”

“I took extra special notice of you in the past, Kat. The woman riding the laurels of old achievements. Dancing and prancing your way forward, riding high on the coattails of your infinitely more successful brother. A woman who is all buddy buddy with the surrogate fathers of Sin City. A woman who stands there and fawns for the adulation of a people that no longer fucking care. Ah, dear sweet Kat. Six months after you failed to win the championship that I did win. Let's say five months? Five months since I had to delay our next foray due to unforeseen medical issues. Five months and you’ve done absolutely fuck all since. Miss Manners? A fucking warm-up match and you know it.”

“There was a golden opportunity for you to stay the fuck home. There was a golden opportunity for you to take your ball and leave, and stay out of the ring. There were all the chances in the world, but some part of you. Some part of your brain demands that you come back. Waltz in and out. Leave when things get too hard, and come back when you think the playing field has devolved to your standard once again. Paired up with another hack-eye from the past in Teddy Warren. A family I’m unfortunately familiar with. A funny little one called Dawn Warren being my debut match here, in fact. You baffle me, Kat. You baffle me in ways that I cannot eloquently explain. So eloquence is not that journey here, sweet angel. No, eloquence just isn’t my fucking thing. ‘Cause this dainty little southern, she’s shown that she can fucking fight. Be it barbwire wrapped bodies, flaming fucking tables or if I get my way, chairs and brass to the skull of every mouthy bitch that decides to stick her nose into my business.”

“Kat, I want you to listen closely. I want you to understand what I’m saying. I need you to pay attention to what is going on. You are a throwaway in a tournament filled with fucking heaters. You a throwaway in a tournament where for the first time in years there is a chance for an actual challenger to the fucking crowns. You are one half, and unfortunately, the better half, of a warm up team. A team filled with a nobody and a never was. Which are you? I wonder, I wonder. Which shoe fits a little bit better for the perpetual failure that is the project of Kat Jones?”

“But this isn’t all about us, no, no. No this is more than our little tête-à-tête. I haven’t forgotten about sweet little Teddy Warren. No, no, Teddy. Teddy come to mama darling, I have many things to talk to you about. How nice it is to see you again. The man who has to overcome so much to be here. Another member of the Warren family who has done absolutely fuck all to make their name mean a single fucking thing in this business. A former Roulette Champion and…. Well that’s about it, isn’t it, Teddy? Oh, poor sweet Tedward. I know how hard it must be for you. To come back and think that things are going to be any different for you. The Blast from the Past tournament, thinking you might get paired up with the likes of a Kallie Reznik or maybe even myself. Betting all your fucking chips on a big partner, and you end up with another wannabe nothing failure in Kat Jones.”

“Oh sweet angel, I do feel for you. Not only do you have possibly the worst partner in all of the tournament. Hell, I think even Bea Barnhart would’ve given you more chances than little ol’ Kat Jones. But then you draw, for my own money, and not to toot my own horn. I am humble after all. You draw the favourites. You draw the team that everyone has their eyes on because there is no doubt. There is no question. There is no other answer. The winners of the Blast from the Past tournament. You’re fucking looking at ‘em. Luna Pasilno and Sean Parker.”

“So, Teddy. I hope you signed for some good money. Though, maybe being able to pay this month’s rent was enough of a lure for you. Because this is a one and done for you both. A one and done and then you and Kat Jones. You can pack your bags and get back in the seats where you belong. Watching the rest of us go to fucking work. Watching those of us who can fucking fight.”



William the Conqueror, the invading Normans. The fall and failure of King Harold II, and all that was left of that iconic event in history, were these crumbling ruins. These privately owned, crumbling ruins. These ruins that looked like steps. These ruins that looked like they were begging to be climbed. There was a twinge of sadness. Being here and not being here with Alex. The King and Queen of The Conspiracy. There was a picture perfect example of that of which Alex had talked about for years here. The crumbling and decaying castles of the invisible hands that control them.

Or something like that.

The twinge of sadness was quickly overruled by the arrival of this innate desire. An innate desire to climb. An urge to cause chaos. To put the Sin City legal team to work, seeing as they had done their damndest to ensure Alex and Luna didn’t get a break. So here Luna was, looking over the green hills of the iconic sight. Her eyes fixated on a low wall, that led to a slightly higher wall, that led to the top of a doorway, and in turn the top of a crumbling battlement.

Sean was off doing his TV duties. Filming for whatever it was he was filming for. She was certain he had told her, but truth be told. She was mostly distracted by the baby. Both of the babies. The dog and the actual child. But she could see them some distance away. Filming on the battlefield itself. Which meant that all the attention was focused elsewhere. Which meant that Luna could become the conquering Queen of the ruins.

It was but a flash of movement. She ran up unto the low wall. Running the full length of it, as nearby tourists cast sideways glances. One person looked ready to say something, but decided against it after getting a proper look at Luna. Her athleticism was going to pay dividends. She leapt up onto the next wall, clearing a larger than it looked gap. Ignoring the crumbling of stones, she crawled her way up along the wall and on top of the doorway section. Staff taking note of her now.

“Excuse me miss! You can’t be up there. You need to get down!” One of them shouted, a few people now stopping to gawk and stare.

“Sorry, I don’t speak United Kingdomnian. Only American.” Luna mocked as she scrambled further up. If they wanted her down, they’d have to get her down themselves. Which from the looks of it, was unlikely to happen. What was the worst that could happen?

Springing further up, she climbed to the top of the wall, and sat on the L bend. Stones skittering and falling. The staff were conversing between themselves trying to work out what they could do to get her off the ruins without a big how-to-do. Luna, being pretty chuffed with herself, simply swung her legs and stared out into the distance. ‘Get a snap for Alex.’ she thought to herself quietly, taking her phone out.

A quick selfie, shot off to him. It seemed like Sean had finished up his obligations too as he was walking toward her.

With the camera crew.

Who were still recording.

She thought about quickly climbing down. Getting off the cameras as she wildly disrespected these protected ruins. But then decided against it as it would be a great little thing for the cameras to catch. What were Mark and Christian going to do about it? Fire her? They had yet to find a punishment that was actually going to work.

Luna! Fuck sake!” Sean shouted out at her. She simply smiled down at him, as he waved off the camera crew.

“Hi Sean, baby. Nice to see you again!” Luna shouted down, standing up slowly. Looking down she squared herself up, and took aim.

“Catch me.” Luna said and took a step forward. And then she was sailing down off the ruins and straight towards Sean. It was at this moment, she really thought some extra warning probably would have protected her. Too late for that now.

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.

Luna spent a lot of her free time in the same place now. Sitting next to her brother’s grave. A nice little blanket to sit on. A few drinks, some food. Just sharing what little she could with his memory. Alex had come a few times. To speak about how the world was going. He was angrier than she’d seen him in a long time. Sweet and soft with her, but angry with the world. Small slights he never would’ve thought of before. They sent him into a rage.

She didn’t blame him. She was just as angry. Angry with the world that was leaving them behind. So taking what time she could, she found some peace in coming here. Coming to sit next to his grave. To tell him about the daily going ons. What was happening with the bar, what was happening with their marriage. Future plans, wrestling plans. The things Jimmy would have wanted to hear about their everyday life.

“I’ve got a good feeling this time. I think I’m primed to take the championship again, you know? I think Alex is primed to hurt some people. You’d be proud of us Jimmy. You’d be so fucking proud.”

She reaches into the bag she had brought with her. A simple grey backpack. Pulling out a packet of cigarettes, a lighter, and a can of Colonial Sour. A taste of home for them. They spent so much time importing the stuff, just for a reminder of being back in Melbourne. She cracked the tin, and took a long sip of it. The sizzle and burn of the sour is somewhat refreshing.

“Things aren’t the same without you Jimmy. I know, someday, years from now. We’ll be having this chat again, and I’ll be in a different place. Hurting, but more at peace with what has happened. Hurting, but able to say goodbye properly. I could barely face it at the funeral. I couldn’t accept what was happening.”

The cigarette up to her lips, lighting it and taking a long and harsh drag. A heavy exhale. She looked at the short grass that was beginning to grow over where the plot had once been dug out. A second can pulled from the bag, and placed next to the headstone. A little gift from her.

“I wish I could say goodbye, Jimmy. I wish I didn’t feel compelled to come here everyday. I wish, I wish you were still here. When the hospital called to tell us. To tell us we were too late to come and say goodbye. We just sat there in the doorway. We were just about to get out the door. Hungover, haphazardly dressed. Looking like the scene of a bad walk of shame. I’m sorry we took too long, Jimmy. I’m sorry we weren’t there to hold your hand in the end.”

The conversation was the same most days. Sorrow, pity, agony. She was here every day she could be. Another long drag, another sip of the drink.

“I hope you don’t hold it against us. I know you wouldn’t. We’re going to be better, Jimmy. I swear it. You made me promise once, that I wouldn’t ruin this again. That the world had gifted me a second opportunity, and I wasn’t to mess that up. I’m not going to fuck it up, Jimmy. I’m going to take this and run with it. I promise you that. I promise that you handed me off and it was for good. That you got to see the happiest day, even if it became the saddest.”

She reached forward and opened the tin she had put on the headstone. Pouring some of it out onto the grave itself. A literal pouring one out, for her brother. She took a large mouthful of her own and sighed heavily. Lowering her head, to rest upon her raised knees.

“Alex wants to go back to Melbourne. He wants to run away from it all. I think… I think I want to go back too. Back to a place that was filled with only life for us. Memories of better days. I think that’d be nice, you know? I just wish you could come with us. But, Alex said when he told you. That you didn’t want to move anymore. That you were tired of it. That you’d settled and were putting down your roots. So, even though I wish you could come with us. I know this is where you’d rather be.”

The crunch of dirt beneath shoes suddenly filled the air. She turned and noticed Alex slowly walking over towards her. She hadn’t been expecting him today. It was a pleasant surprise. She smiled, and waved. Taking a long drag on her cigarette as he made his way over. Planting himself down heavily beside her. His arm around her shoulders is warm and soothing. He took the cigarette from her, and took a long drag himself.

“One day, things won’t hurt so much.”

Experience for him. Lauren had passed, now James too. The fears he held, about being an omen of death. About being the angel of darkness. She could see why he felt that way. His parents, his ex-wife, his best friend. If anyone else had said such things, she’d have spat in their face. Then asked for money for the privilege.

“We’re going to burn the world down, Alex. We’re going to burn it all fucking down.”

“We’re going to hurt everybody, Lu. Every single person who has wronged us. Every single person who may wrong us. Pre-emptive justice. Justice for the world that just continues to take. We’re going to burn it all down, and watch as they beg and bleed for sweet release.”

Alex truly was becoming a fucking freak. And she was loving every moment of it. The raw emotion. The raw passion. For everything that James’ death had taken away from them, for everything that it had changed. For everything that would continue to change. They would have each other, and in an ideal world. They would have each other forever.

“I love you, Lexi.”

“I love you, Lu.”

At that moment, they each had an arm wrapped around the other. She passed the can to him, and for a moment. For a moment things seemed okay. For a moment there was peace. A peace that would not last for them.

Things never last.


“Now, Mrs Pasilno. We’ve talked at length previously about the anger that you feel towards these other women. I’d like to re-explore that, if you are willing.”

A long body recliner, occupied by one Luna Pasilno. A small office, a desk against the wall. A bookshelf, filled with hardbacks, most of which seem to be lacking any real identifiable feature. Another person sits in a tall back chair, with a deep seat and high armrests. His face is obscured by shadows. Holding a notepad and pen, he crosses his legs, and taps the pen absent-mindedly against the pad.

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess we can delve into that sweet little pie once more. I don’t even think it’s just anger for these women. No, there’s this pit inside me. This urge to just hurt everyone, you know? I want to make people feel the pain I’m feeling. I want the world to understand what it is like to be me right now. To want to claw your own skin off. To dig your nails beneath the surface and let the blood flow. To turn every shower into a crime scene of crimson. I want to turn everyone into my bloody valentines.”

“I guess it really started with Krystal Wolfe being a mouthy little fucking whore.”

The scratch of pen on paper, the man nodding as he shifted somewhat in his seat. She stretched out on the long recliner, placing the back of her wrist daintily to her forehead. One knee bent and raised, with the other leg stretched out. A woe-is-me caricature. The smile on her face betrays the sadness and anger she spoke of.

“Let’s explore that shall we? What is it about Krystal Wolfe that makes here, and I quote, a ‘mouthy little fucking whore’?”

“Oh you know, this and that. I get it, I’m not a native Australian. Not born, raised and bred to hate freedom and deny the native person’s of my country the right to even a treaty. It’s not my fault I chose to move to the best city that the country has to offer. It’s not my fault that I chose to stay in a place filled with the widest variety of food, the strongest nightlife and the best atmosphere of any place in Australia. It’s not my fault I found myself enraptured and captured by the power of what Melbourne had to offer. A beautiful country, dotted and marred by shit capital cities filled with bogan rats who think they walk this earth with the right and power to make ludicrous claims about what an outsider sees as truth.”

“That’s not even the most egregious part of it all. No, the most egregious part is the cunt actually thinks that anything she says really gets under my skin. I guess it does in a way. Just not how she thinks. I’m not upset by my shortcomings. Any idiot can be mad over their shortcomings. I mean, you just have to look at Krystal herself. She was so mad at her inability to actually succeed that she went and pretended to get possessed by a demon. Luring that other mouthy bitch Keira back into the fold. No, the most egregious fucking thing that our sweet Krystal Wolfe ever did, was decide to pretend that she is any better than me. The crawling, sliding, little slug.”

 The smile began to slip from her face. Now frustration etched its way across her features. The emotional flippance of Luna Pasilno in full display. She swings her hips to the side and plants her feet on the floor. Hands resting either side of her legs, her eyes fixed on the floor near the supposed therapist’s feet.

“Krystal Wolfe? She’s just a thorn in my side. A proverbial pain in the fucking ass. A pain that is full of excuses for herself. Forever blaming the world when she comes up short, but pretending like that doesn’t matter when she gets a bit of confidence in herself. Here’s a tidbit of truth for you, Krystal. No matter how much you try to tear me down. Mock my short little reigns with the belts, and pretend like your Roulette Championship reign is in anybody's memories except for your own. At the end of the day? Ain’t nobody talking about Krystal fucking Wolfe. But everybody has Luna Pasilno on the tip of their tongue, and in their dreams they have to soothe their minds.”

“The worst part of it all. I wouldn’t even care if she would just shut the fuck up. She talks, and talks and talks. Acting like anyone actually cares what she has to say. The last time you mattered Krystal, was during that reign that you cling to oh so desperately. You were a Roulette Champion, clap clap clap. Good for you, what else have you done? It’s been years since it mattered. Get the fuck over it. In fact, if we want to talk about relevancy, about somebody doing something. I’ve beaten both you and Tempest before, for this very championship. You seem to conveniently forget that when it comes right down to it, when it comes to winning the fucking championship. I have a better record than you do, sweetheart. So continue to bang on about how my much more experienced husband is vastly superior. Bang on about how you don’t know what our ‘alliance’ is all about. This may be a strange concept for you, but we’ve known each other our whole fucking lives. We lived in Australia together. We got fucking married, bitch. Bang on and on about things you don’t understand. Because reality talks, and when reality comes fucking knocking, you’ll regret every foul word.”

“So wiggle your fingers and pretend like you matter. My brother was dying. Now my brother is dead. And I am going to make you hurt so you fucking understand that. I’m going to make you bleed Krystal, and then I’m going to tear out your fucking throat. So I never have to hear your whiny, little bitchy South Australian fucking accent ever again. Trot on back to the Barossa valley and drown yourself in the brain rotting wine that marks only three fucking things your city is known for. Churches, Wine and fucking murder. Stupid bitch.”

She screams and stands up, violently kicking out at the recliner she had previously been sitting on. The calmness now completely gone, replaced with anger, irritation and disdain. Perhaps a bad place to start. Maybe the right place, who could tell?

“Insightful. We’ll need to look into that further. But I want to bring your attention to something you mentioned. Previous success. Krystal Wolfe wasn’t the only one you’ve clashed with previously. What is it about Tempest that frustrates you?”

“Momentarily. Before I turn the bitch on, and run her down. I want to thank Tempest. I want to thank her for being one of the only people who reached out to offer their sympathies when I lost my brother. She didn’t have to. She didn’t need to. But she did, and I appreciate that. Which makes what I have to say, to get myself psyched up the worse. I love you, darling. But right now, I’m an angry fucking bitch.”

“Where to begin? See, Tempest and I have banged heads a few times now. Mixed Tag Team fatal four way. In the previously mentioned battle royal with Krystal. I threw my body to her just wanting to feel something on the second Climax Control of this year. To break the feeling of being numb. The irony in that, is the third member of this little soiree decided to stick her fucking nose into our business and start all of this tumbling ahead. I’ve felt the wrath of Tempest a few times. The woman who lifted a car so a fat little troll could look under it. The woman who strikes fear and terror into the hearts of the women that ply their trade here in Sin City Wrestling. Oh, I know Tempest. Another of the old guards sent to get in the way of the inevitable future. To be a stalwart designed to fucking ruin my day.”

“Tempest exists in the same place as the likes of Kimberly Pain, who, oops. She’s no longer here after I embarrassed her fucking bitch ass. Exists in the same place as Keira, as Roxi, as fucking Kat Jones. The only difference is at least Tempest has kept turning up. Keeps being the little stone pitbull of my sweet corporate daddies Mark Ward and Christian Underwood. I can respect a tough lady who doesn’t let the creaking of her knees and the stupidity of her back breaking get in the way of being a human battering ram. Except, just like Krystal Wolfe, Tempest came up short when it mattered most. I don’t have much negative to say about Tempest. The truth is, I really don’t care for her. She doesn’t scare me. A big tough bitch whose whole identity is wrapped up in being scary and tough doesn’t scare me.”

The scratching of the pen of paper slows for a moment, and the person in the chair leans forward. To absolutely nobody's surprise, the face that is revealed is that of Alexander Raven. Dressed in a far nicer button up shirt and slacks than he would almost ever be seen in otherwise. He shakes his head a little, as Luna sighs. Attempting to wash some calm over herself as she pulls the recliner back to where it had been before she kicked it.

“She’s just as irrelevant as fucking Krystal Wolfe is. Maybe even more so. I’ll give her her dues, without her I probably get to be taking a vacation right now. Maybe we could actually be celebrating our marriage on a lovely little getaway to Maldives. Instead, we’re here having to push through grief, through misery and bullshit. I do love my sweet surrogate fathers, but there are times where they can just be so goddamn heartless. Alas, I guess I have a few more words for the vindicator of my happiness.”

“Tempest, thank you. Thank you for including me in your bullshit. Thank you for being so unable to solve your issues with Courtney Pierce in the lead up to this event that, instead of sucking down beers and cocktails, I’m here instead. In another multi-woman match, facing off against two persons I have already beaten previously in a multi-woman field, for a championship that I beat said women for. Thank you for being so unable to not gravitate frustration, irritation and bullshit toward you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to stick my fingers in Krystal Wolfe’s throat and silence the bitch permanently. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to have a romantic session with Courtney Pierce as she holds Krystal down for me. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to lock your over-sized fucking leg in a Deep Cut and listen to you scream and beg for release, before you tap the fuck out and make me, for the second time ever. The new Bombshell Internet Champion.”

“So thank you, Tempest. Thank you for being here still, just so you can be the giant I use to show everyone what fucking happens when you cross Luna fucking Pasilno. The new Mrs Rabenschwarz. The angry little girl who has fists made of fucking steel. Thank you Tempest, for once again ruining our lives.”


Alex nods a little, leaning back into the chair. His face once again obscured the darkness. For cinematic effect of course. Luna sits herself back down on the recliner, throwing her legs back up onto the couch. Knees bent, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I think we’re really starting to make some headway here, Mrs Pasilno. But there’s one other person that seems to be causing you some level of trepidation. You mentioned her briefly in her relation to Tempest, but we need to more thoroughly explore that. What is it about Courtney Pierce that frustrates you?”

“Right down to the line. I had her, right down to the final moments. Admitted from her own mouth. I had her right to the last second. I came up short. That’s okay, these things happen. In fact they seem to happen more often than not. Arrogance, bravado, whatever you want to call it. The reality is, the woman who touts herself as the best this company has to offer, was taken straight down to the line. It could have gone either way, and I’ll take what I can. But, Courtney said something in the lead up that bothered me. That this started because I stepped to her. That this started because I got involved in her affairs. Conveniently forgetting that the bitch stuck her nose in MY business first. I don’t care that she didn’t put her hands on me. I care that she decided to ruin my match, and take away what I wanted. Take away the fact that I wanted Tempest to hurt me.”

“I’m the fucking Masochist. I think people forget that little part about me. I like to hurt, I like the pain. What I don’t like? People who stop me from getting what I want. That, that is you, Courtney Pierce. The serial interrupter. The bitch who thinks she can get away with it all. If she was like this with anyone else, I’d even have a little admiration. Our equal disdain for the chatty little slag, Krystal Wolfe. I could almost like Courtney Pierce, if she wasn’t just such a hypocritical and blind scrag. See it is one thing to be so self-indulgent, that you cannot see beyond the ego of your own brow. Courtney’s arrogance for the Bombshell Internet Championship, is ironically, not even unique. No, it’s the same schtick that Jack Washington ran with for his recent reign. It’s the same thing that Fenris attempted to use as an excuse for why he wouldn’t wrestle my husband. A shadow of greater persons, taking a stance that doesn’t even mark her as something unique.”

“I’ve said a few times, but the most egregious thing here, is the fucking irrelevancy of the three other women. The irrelevance of Krystal Wolfe in this match with women far greater than her. The irrelevance of Tempest in this match with women far quicker than her. And the irrelevance of Courtney Pierce in this match, for a championship she pretends she doesn’t care for. Pretends because if she acknowledged it, she’d have to accept that someone like our consummate queen, Juliana DiMaria is actually her better. The woman who is her better. Courtney is here because she is no longer the measuring stick for the Bombshell division to measure against. Courtney is here because she fucking belongs here. Beneath the boot of the betters. Beneath the boot of those who actively wish to see things improve. Beneath the boot of the inevitable future. Beneath me.”

She stretches an arm above her head, stretching out lazily on the recliner. The earlier anger is still bubbling but the smile. The smile had returned. That perpetual maniac happiness. She turns to face Alexander Raven, stretching a hand out toward him. The scratching of the pen slowly comes to a stop on the notepad. He leans over handing it to her. The excessive pen seemingly has nothing of note. Scrawled across the pad is simply “Fuck them up.” The words written bold and heavily lined.

“Just to add to the ever-growing pool of people. I know Ruby is going to be there. Tempted to interfere. Tempted to help Courtney get her win. I need you to consider the dangers in that choice. In the dangers of that outcome. You see Courtney, you’re not the only one with someone on the outside that would do anything to help you get what you want. And whilst he might be a little banged up from his own match. Where he’ll be ripping Ben Jordan’s sweet little face right the fuck off. I too have someone who will do anything and everything for me. So I want you to consider, do you want to risk poor sweet Ruby? Do you want to get her involved, if that means that Alex gets himself involved. No rules, that’s the sticking point here, isn’t it? You can have the world, and I’ll burn it all down.”

“I want it known. I want to make a point. That My Bloody Valentine will be a fucking bloody affair if I get my way. I don’t care that we aren’t in one of those cute, sweet little Blood Bath Brawls. A fatal fourway is exempt from the typical rules of engagement. So Krystal, just know. If I can’t use my nails, then I can find something else to break your fucking throat. Tempest, if I can’t lock you in that Deep Cut like I like. Maybe I’ll crush your skull between two chairs instead. Lay you out, and plant you down. Romantic, I think. And for you, Courtney. For you, I’m not going to crush your skull or throat. I’m not going to ram my nails into your sweet neck. No, I’m going to take your face from you. I’ll run these nails down your pretty little face, until the flesh beneath is exposed and throbbing. Gashes and rivers of that sweet, sweet crimson. Because lovers, this is going to be My Bloody Valentine. And at the end? I walk out Bombshell Internet Champion once again. The best of us. The Queen once more.”

She drops the notepad and sighs heavily, closing her eyes as Alexander Raven slowly stands up.

“I think we’ve made some real progress today. Shall we make it for the same time next week?”

“Oh, I think I’ll have plenty to talk about then.”

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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OOC note: Time crunch got me good this time round. Life definitely getting its way with me this week. Always happens when you least expect it.
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