Resolution
Scene One | Off-Camera | 1st January 2023
Somehow, James was always the first to rise and the last to go to bed. His New Year’s hadn’t ended until the sun was already coming up. Yet there he was, 10AM, cooking eggs and bacon, the sizzle filling the air with the light hum of the rangehood doing its job. Luna had only just made it to Midnight this year, sloppily planted kisses on Alex and then proceeded to pass out at approximately a minute past midnight. Alex had attempted to keep pace with James but found himself retching and gurgling over a bucket a few hours into the new year and had resigned himself to bed in the wee hours of the morning. Ever since they’d been friends this was the way. Luna would pass out early, Alex would go sick trying to keep pace with James, and James would go until the sunlight made his sunglasses relevant again. For a few years, they’d been separate. Marriage, new friends, friendship breakdowns and fights. Everything had conspired to turn their little troupe against each other and yet here they were. Twenty Twenty-Three and back in each other’s good graces. Alex would have preferred Luna not push herself onto him, but he knew that she was very set on her end goal of having him back. Even if he wasn’t ever going to be the emotionally available partner she was seeking.
“You wan’ go wake her majesty, rockstar? She’s liable to bite my head off, daddio.”
Alex shook his head a little, and on cue, Luna grumbled loudly as she stumbled into the small living area of the apartment. Her head held loosely up by her right hand she plopped down onto the couch besides Alex and groaned loudly.
“Turn the fucking sun off, please.”
Even in her most disgruntled she’d taken the effort to pull her hair back into a tight bun. A few loose strands trailed down her face, creating a frame on either side. James being who he is proceeded to loudly bang the ban on the stove top, clatter every plate as he moved to lay three of them out and then clink a set of knife and fork and on everyone. Both Luna and Alex groaned in pain.
“You’re a fucking cunt.”
“Hey, you can’t call me that anymore, daddy. You ain’t no native of the land no more. You’ve lost your cunt privilege, rockstar.”
“You’re both cunts.”
Luna was not having it this morning. Alex laughed a little, James broke out into a raucous guffaw, laughing deep from the belly. As long as he was enjoying himself, it mattered little the pain that was being inflicted. James was always a fan of schadenfreude. Luna grabbed her pre-laid out bottle of water and paracetamol off the table and took two, groaning as she laid herself down into Alex’s lap. Almost 20 years on, and nothing had changed. They were still absolute delinquents with each other. His stone-cold heart had been warmed by having them return so actively into his life. Alex thought Loz would be happy for him. Happy to see him beginning to live life again. Beginning to be happy again. She’d probably have thrown Luna out the window and ensured she never came back. But there were sacrifices in everything.
“So, any fun little resolutions out of you two for this year?”
James began plating up the bacon and eggs, placing a couple of sausages alongside them. A decent breakfast to try mop up the amount of alcohol currently pulsing through their liver. James placed them on the counter, as Alex slowly began to stand. Luna continuing to groan as she once again had to support the weight of her own head.
“Wanted to talk to you about that rockstar. Been running the ropes with Lu, got some speed upon the gears again. Thinking I might make a go of it, you feel me? I ain’t never had my time in spotlight, but sometimes. Sometimes I wonder how far I could of gone, daddio. Sometimes I wonder, how Phenomenal would the Barracuda have been? I want to get into the ring again, rockstar.”
James was serious. His voice low, he’d even taken off the sunglasses. His eyes locked on Alex, and he realised what that meant. Not only did he want to get back in the ring, he wanted to get some solid training in. And if he wanted to get back into the ring, that could only mean one thing.
“You too, Lulu?”
“I wouldn’t phrase it that way, lover. I had my aspirations well before Baby New Year kicked the old bucket. Part of the reason I came back, besides trying to schmooze on you too, baby.”
He knew if they wanted back it was serious. Luna was flippant at the best of times, but she’d been as serious as a whip about this for the last few months. James being on the ball about it all too meant it was a given. The Conspiracy, all in one room, and potentially, all back in the ring. Six months ago, Alex would’ve told them to get lost and never put poisonous words like that in his mind again. Six months on, after battling with the likes of Austin James, Ken Davison, and even the back and forth with Fenris, having friends at his whim didn’t seem so bad.
“Don’t get me wrong, brother. We ain’t about to be your lapdogs. We ain’t broken anymore, daddy. Fractured sure, but we always been one piece loose of a full kit. We got your back, all day every day, rockstar. But this is for us. This is for me. Not your war on everything, got me?”
The tone was serious, but Alex knew there was no malcontent feeling behind it. Like himself, James had taken a few hits more than the average person. A shoulder reconstruction had put him out longer than he would’ve ever appreciated and by the time came that he was cleared to get back into the ring. The world had changed. Alex had left the ring, Luna was no longer doting on Alex, and they’d all shifted to the other side of the world. For James, this was about getting one more go at it. To prove he still had. He was young, and he’d been given a bad hand. Alex couldn’t tell him no.
“You gunning for me and mine? ‘Cause I gotta say. Once I put the pagan dog out to pasture, I’ve got no problem whipping you back and forth across that ring.”
Alex smiled widely as James roared with laughter again. The painkillers seemed to be doing their job as Luna seemed vaguely more alive and was no longer holding her head up with her hand. They dug into the food. The food was full of flavour and spice. He missed James’ cooking something fierce. Always full of love and life, his food captured that too. They chatted mindlessly whilst they ate, leaving the topic of getting into the ring again for now. Breakfast passed and the day began to grow. James was off to shower and getting ready to spend the first day of the year, as he spent most days. Finding someone to annoy and potentially putting and offer down on a bar. Alex however, decided it was time to grill Luna. See if she’d improved, see if she’d learnt anything from all the years of listening to him talk.
“Give me a cold open. Give me some thoughts. I’ve got Fenris as my first of the year. Tell me, what I should do. Tell me how I get into the mind of a man who thinks me nothing but a pretentious hack. How do I get under the skin of a man who has fists tempered like my own father’s?
Like a switch had been flicked, Luna leaped onto her feet. She pulled her hair free and threw it wildly around her face. She took a grimace to her face, clearly mocking him. He simply shook his head, as she giggled a little.
“Well Lexi. I know you, and I know how you work. Research and obsession take you to the depths of thought, lover. Fenris strikes me as a person who is always ready to leap to fire. Common response, from both him and… pretty much everyone you’ve wrestled? Common response is to deny you getting to them. So, play into it, baby.”
Alex nods a little putting a hand to his nose, pinching the bridge of it. Feigned deep thought.
“Just like that! Faked deep thought, mock the headache they give you. Oh, and maybe play into the raven thing. He seemed somewhat upset that you tried to ‘mansplain’ it to him. Seemed a bit of a stretch, but clearly burnt under the flesh of the manthing, Lexi.”
“And you, Luna. Never be me. You and James, you aren’t me. I fight my wars attempting to burn anger out of everyone. I’m not as gifted as James, and I’m not as slick as you. I have to work with my fists, and the only way to work with my fists, is to upset them. To bring them in and let them work their own anger against me. To use what I once lost myself to. But one thing, Luna. Never talk through them. Never talk around them. Talk to them. Make sure everyone feels uncomfortable for listening in to a conversation that is meant for you and your opponent. Nothing else matters. Nobody in the world matters more than the situation you find yourself in. Never talk through them. Never talk about them. Talk to them. And you’ll own everyone’s thoughts. Living rent free in the heads of every person that comes to detest what you stand for. Because The Conspiracy, is about showing the truth. It’s about teaching them that they are not above us. They are not special. That at the end of the day, we are the ultimate.”
Luna smiled, and wrapped her arms around Alex, pulling him in for a tight hug. His arms slipped around her in response, and they held. It was the first time he’d returned any of the affection. Returned any of the warmth. Her grip on him tightened and she clambered to sit on his lap, and just bury her face in the nook of his neck. His arms remained around her, hands linked in the small her back. Peaceful. Even now, the light scent of cigarettes, coffee and… her, filled his nose. And for the first time in years, he felt… content. Happy. At home.
“Get a fucking room.”
James smacked Alex in the back of the head, smiled at the two of them and put his sunglasses back on. The man could get dressed quicker than anyone Alex had ever met. He ruffled Alex’s hair a bit, and then left. Leaving the two of them to their moment.
Let Me Talk
Scene Two | On-Camera | 2nd January 2023
“A new year, full of possibilities. This time last year, I was preparing to face Bill Barnhart. Someone who, like myself, seems to be at the ass end of everyone’s opinions. A man who I’ve gone to war with time and time again. I spent the first 6 months of my career finding the Bulldog at the end of my path. And at the end of that path, I found myself conquering Finn Whelan for the Roulette Championship. At the end of that path, I found myself exposing the legendary Speedo, and in turn, exposing Bill Barnhart to the world. To solidify myself, I stood over and conquered the Bulldog once more. To prove that it was no mere fluke of fate that Alexander Raven had become the champion. That it was no mere fluke that Alexander Raven was the Roulette Champion. In less than a year, I had won, lost and won again, championship gold. In less than a year, I had fought for every major singles title in the men’s division, and I’d made my mark. In less than a year, I’d managed to piss off every damn mutt with a moniker linking them to a dog. In less than year, I had managed to prove that Alexander Raven was not the flash in the pan, the stain on the hotel sheet or another middling face on the roster. No, in a year, I proved not only could I hang with the champions of today, but I could also earn the respect of those above it. In the first six months, nobody would have believed Alexander Raven could beat Austin James Mercer in a steel cage. In the first six months, nobody would think Alexander Raven could wrestle to a draw with that ma. In the first six months, nobody would have thought Alexander Raven would have taken war to calling out all the big bad bogeymen of Sin City and demand that they pay attention to what I say. In the first six months of my career here, nobody would believe that 2023 would start with Alexander Raven demanding the big bad wolf, Fenris, be his first opponent. To risk my championship, of my own volition, against Fenris. In my first six months, nobody would have believed it. But now…”
“Now there is no choice but belief. The blustering and the noise, the pretentious claims and arrogance. It becomes harder to treat as nonsense when the truth of what I say becomes more and more prevalent. It becomes harder to deny The One True King’s claims of change. Of a fixing of the broken. Of the shattering of the stained glass lies that soar above us. The truth is this. The truth is whatever the fuck I want it to be, because the truth is what I need it to be, for me to be correct. I do not distort or manipulate the truth; I don’t manipulate reality. What I do is make the truth of the world obvious for those who have their eyes shielded from it. Freedom to hunt is my one goal in life, and right now. Right now, I’m hunting the biggest dog of them all. Right now, I’m hunting Fenris. Twenty Twenty-Three began with my friends. Twenty Twenty-Three began with everything I had been trying to ignore being present in my face. That yes, I understand the power in friendship. I understand the strength in numbers. But there is also a truth that I am showing. That no matter the friendship, no matter the words. No matter how much you defend or back someone up, the truth becomes impossible to ignore. The truth is what it is, and you know this Fenris. That every time you opened your fucking mouth about me, you were pushing that shovel into the ground one more time. That every time you stuck your fucking nose into my business, you were making it harder for me to just let you be. I want this match for one reason Fenris. To make you shut your fucking mouth, close your blind eyes, and walk away. Walk away knowing this fundamental truth. You think I’m second best? Second best to who, bitch? Not you. You don’t want to know my history, yet you think yours matters at all? Not on my watch mutt.”
A man is sitting on a simple wooden dining chair. His hands are tied behind his back and hooked over the back of the chair. His eyes cast downwards; eyes hidden behind deep shadows. His hair is wet, clumped together. Big strands across and stuck to his face. Bare feet and maroon skinny jeans, rips at the knees and along the thighs. He shakes his head back and forth but can’t exert much more energy. Another person walks forward, placing their hands on the shoulders of the man in the chair. Their face hidden by shadows; hands heavily tattooed. A flash of white as the person smiles, gripping the man’s shoulders ever more tightly.
“The mind, Fenris. The mind is a funny thing. It can paint and change the world as we see it. It can change the reality of how we see everything, even ourselves. It makes our choices, our actions, our decisions… justified. Justification is the only way that one can continue to make poor decisions and feel that owe no repercussion. Justification, like the acceptance of friends. The egging on of other like-minded juveniles. Peer pressure, if you will. I am often accused of always needing the last word, but it is by the one who seeks to tell me so. The one who actively hunts to achieve the finality in any situation. When the truth of their choices is brought to bare before them and the justification slips away. Without it they fear that they are the villain the are being painted as. You are the villain I paint you as, Fenris. You are a man-child who fights the battles of lesser because you need to feel like you are superior. No faith left in those who you call your friends, you justify it through them. You convince your own friends that they are incapable of fighting their own wars and in turn you will fight it for them. Rather than just let sleeping dogs lie, you must interject. You want to be the best, but you feel the need to prove it to every person that may question it. Dogged actions over and over. Dogged behaviour leads you to an ultimate end, but it is not the end you seek. It is the pathway there to keep yourself feeling valid in your choices and behaviours. The truth is, Fenris. The more you look at me, the more it boils your blood. I do not prescribe to the attitudes of your ilk. I spent the last few months of the year proving what I’m saying is true. That the incestuous depths of this Sin City are going to be pulled apart at the seams. And when I’m done pulling every inch of it apart, there will be nothing but a crater of what was once this mockery. The blue sky will flitter above us, and through it. Through the clean, truthful sky will fly my Conspiracy. The Conspiracy of the Sin City. The Kingdom of Alexander Raven will fly its flag of freedom and truth and at its depth the bones of every mangy mutt, bird and creature that dared continue the fallacy that permeates every inch of this decaying place.”
“But I know. I know, I know. Everyone is sick of hearing me talk. Everyone is sick of the bluster, the pretentious attitude and the arrogance. They are sick of hearing Alexander Raven bluster and blather, when he can’t back it up. Oh, but he lost to O’Malley. Oh, but he lost to Miles. Oh, but he lost, he lost, he lost. Every person falls, and every person rises. The truth I paint is not one of supremacy. The one I paint is one of reality. That no person is special for just thinking they are special. No man is better because they are big and scary. No person is special because they think they are. No person is special, and no one is owed anything more than what they fucking earn. And I’m going to show the world your truth, Fenris. That beyond the bluster, beyond the words behind the keyboard. Beyond everything you use to paint yourself as a scary bastard with a mean streak and weaponised fists. Beyond all of that is the truth I have been telling everyone all along. You’re nothing but an insecure little bitch, who lives in their own hypocrisy. Ignorant to the pasts of others but thinking your own matters. Refusing to listen to others but demanding that they listen to your juvenile mocking behaviour. For once, just once. I don’t want the bullshit. I don’t want to have to listen to the blathering of Miles, the she-bitch, Finn, some nobody fuckwit called Dickie. Even the over-confident plucky prick Lachlan wanted to get a word in. I don’t want to have to listen to every single fucking person talk about Alexander Raven. I don’t want to have to pick through the nonsensical, and irrelevant bullshit. I want the truth; I want the reality. I want the best. You demand that you only face the best. That you don’t care for second best. Well, Fenris. If I’m second best, then you had best be THE BEST. If you aren’t, if you’ve been lying to me. If you’ve been lying to everyone the truth comes out. The false prophecy of the Broken Messiah becomes the truth. That Fenris isn’t the bogeyman of danger. That Fenris isn’t the danger that he wants everyone to think he is. Because if you lose to me. If you lose to Alexander Raven, what does that make you? Second best? Second best to fucking who?”
The person in the chair looks up. Alexander Raven, his eyes lost and distant. As he lifts his head and looks around, his shoulders tensing under the grip of the hidden figure. The flap of bird wings fill the air. The croak and screech of Ravens. Another person steps in from the left, and then one from the right. The place their hands under the armpits of Alex and lift him up and off the chair, holding him in the air. The figure behind moves their hands off his shoulders and wraps them around Alex’s legs. Twisting him, the place Alex over the shoulder of the man holding his legs. The two other persons disappearing into the darkness once more. A raven flies narrowly past the man holding Alex, then another. Then more and more, until there is a constant streaking line of black birds. They begin to chase each other, flying in circles around the figure.
“But let’s take a moment. Let us take a moment to calm ourselves. Let us take a moment to think. I need you to understand something Fenris. Even if the way you behave infuriates me. Even if the way you hold yourself and talk about others pisses me off. Even though you make me feel sick in my stomach, I need you to understand this. It’s not just because of who you are. It’s not just because of you. In fact, you are almost irrelevant to the real cause. The real cause, Fenris, is that nobody has pulled you up on your bullshit before. You’ve been allowed to run rampant across this Sin City. You’ve been allowed to behave in this way and act as if you are at all the mythos, you’ve built yourself to be. Like the Pagan gods that people seem so obsessed with in the modern day, disregard for those around you is emulative of them. It’s easy to hide behind ideas of a cooler history, a more impressive one. It’s easy to hide behind the ideas of greater powers and then mock others for making comment on it. It’s easy to pretend that you are holier than thou, when the holiest thing you could do is ignore the moralistic behaviours of human society. It’s easy to pretend to be who you are Fenris when nobody has the balls to call you out on the lies you live in every aspect of your life. I enjoy the stories; I enjoy the mythos. I enjoy history because history teaches us many things and in those many things it has also taught us this. Those who live in a doomed past will fall as the same. That those who refuse to learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. I mock with monikers, with my names, with my titles. I mock because I feel no need to hide in ideas of the old. I have no need to hide in the ideas of gods and greater powers. There is no greater power, there is nothing unique or special. Some would call it nihilistic, but I resent that. There is nothing nihilistic about believing in one’s own ability to make the right choices. To make the correct understands. To guide one’s own morals with the shepherd of human decency and not the warped ones of a manipulated system. Tell me, Fenris. Did you become obsessed with stories before you became a liar? Or did it suit the rhetoric of lies to become a fan of the stories? Did it accentuate the image you try and paint of yourself as a foreign warrior come to take, plunder and pillage. To be the best warrior you can. Perhaps you are seeking that final battle in which you can be taken to the lands of eternal drink and revelry. Where the alcohol flows unabated, and battles are waged every night to keep fresh.”
“And I know what you’ll say. You’ll tell me I have no idea. That I’m attempting to ‘mansplain’ something to someone who already knows everything there is to know. Because learning is sin. Because teaching is wrong. Because anyone who would mock cannot be taught the truth, can they? It’s easier to belittle, to berate, to tear down. I don’t believe in breaking people down. I don’t believe it berating them. I don’t believe in breaking them. What I do believe in, is showing the broken the truth. In guiding those who need the guidance to a better place. To help those who are lost, broken and defeated. Those who need guidance but are defeated by the world that teaches them that to be taught is sinful. That to learn they must do so themselves. It’s easier to tell people they are wrong, then it is to guide them to the correct answer, isn’t it Fenris? Believe it or not, I don’t like the way that you behave. Is that clear at this point? I don’t like any of your god damn mongrels, because allegiances or otherwise, you behave the same way. Pack animals who are only each other’s comrade when it suits you. False beasts because a true one wouldn’t abandon or attack its own kin for the point of proving yourself superior. And oh, how we laughed, didn’t we? The Alpha theory, we mock the one who doesn’t believe in it because it’s fundamentally flawed. No, it’s easier to insult people as a ‘beta’ that isn’t to their level of ‘alpha’. Because superiority guides us all doesn’t it, Fenris? It’s nice to feel like you are the leader and the head of the pack. And yes, I understand the hypocrisy of the one who speaks as the One True King talking about others pretending to be superior. Yet anyone who has ever fucking listened would understand. That I do not take mantles to sit above people. I take a mantle to show people where the base line exists. That any person who wishes to see the truth and act upon it. That any person that throws aside the false behaviours of a forgotten world and throws the stones to shatter the stained glass lies, is capable. That every person in The Conspiracy is not just another mindless member. But all equal in the family. That every member of The Conspiracy is a King above all others that refuse to accept the one truth. Speciality does not exist. It’s a lie purported to make us believe that they are something more than we are. And you, Fenris. You are the biggest victim of this ideology. This belief that anyone is better, that anyone is special. You’re just another kid who thought Mjolnir was cool and decided to craft an identity to reflect your teenage angst.”
“Am I wrong?”
The whirlwind of birds dissipates. A four walled room replacing it. Brightly lit, the walls reflecting a never-ending space. The person carrying Alexander Raven fading with the birds, leaving the bound Alexander Raven in the middle of the floor. He rocks up, getting onto his knees. His face towards the ground. The ceiling and floor mirrored too. A never-ending world of the same repeated room, and only Alexander Raven occupying it.
“Yes. Maybe I am. Maybe the trappings of my mind continue to compound upon the thoughts that I concoct in my own mind and validate my opinions. Because the one thing that people feel the constant need to remind me of, is that I talk shit. That I talk too much. That I create these fantasies, these lies. The reality I paint in my own head is but a distortion of the truth of what really exists beyond the world outside of my view. I know what people will say. I know that once everyone hears what Alexander Raven has to say, they will quietly post a remark about Alexander Raven. They’ll quietly post a comment about me being pretentious, or a prick, or being pompous. They’ll post something because they have to. Because nobody can escape their own narcissistic vain views of themselves. Everyone thinks they are the most interesting person in the world, and that their words will make a difference. But you know like I do, Fenris. That at the end of the day every single word is for naught. My opinion of you changes nothing and your opinion of me controls the mindless mob who throw themselves behind you. In your words you alter the view of anyone who decides that Fenris is the one who speaks the truth, and push them against any who would go against that rhetoric. The most sickening part of it all however is the blinders that every fucking one of you wears in pretending that it’s not true. That you are all independent thinking, self-sufficient and mainting persons. That each of you doesn’t need the other, and that it’s a simple fact that I am so detestable that you all seem to repeat the exact same bullshit as each other.”
“Yet I know. I know because I am not blind to the absolutely pretentious arrogance of it all. I called out all of you mongrels and the only one that truly had the balls to do anything was Austin James Mercer. And you all smiled, and rubbed your palms together. Because King James was going to hurt me, was going to end me. You were all happy to throw your lot behind him because it becomes so much easier for someone else to do the dirty work that you do not want to do. So when it went to a draw I’m sure there was a moment of panic. Not only had Alexander Raven dethroned the plucky little runt in Lachlan Kane, but he’d managed to weather the storm. You kept your eyes on it all though. Money on Mercer. Attack the old man, and put your money on Mercer, because there is no way Alexander Raven goes the distance with King James in a Steel fucking Cage, is there, Fenris? No; two birds with one stone. Alexander Raven loses his mind and his life. In a chamber of steel, Alexander Raven has no chance. But it didn’t work out that way. The only person with the balls to actually step to the plate was also the only person who acknowledged what I have said for over a year now. I am not just words, I am not a liar. I can take a beating, I can take a thrashing. I will take blow after blow. I will bleed, my flesh will tear and bruise and I will even take broken bones. There is nothing that any single person can do to Alexander Raven that will slow me down. That will stop me from reaching my ultimate goal. But this right here Fenris. This all boils down to one thing. You are a snivelling little bitch. You hide behind your keyboard, purport lies against me. You charge into any interaction regardless of your relevance in it and attempt to put me down. So when I call you out, I expect a fucking response. Not this pathetic reaction of “I only want the best”. You’ve got the best staring you in the face.”
Alex slowly pushes himself up on to his feet, and turns his head upwards, staring at the roof. Countless Alexand Raven’s standing facing upwards, hands bound behind his back. Anger lacing his features, a vein beginning to visibly pulse on his neck. He closes his eyes as he begins to struggle against the bindings on his wrists. The rope digging into the flesh refusing to come loose.
“No more restraint. No more holding back. I have my eyes set on you Fenris, and for one very good reason. Once I put you down, the lies stop. No more can people pretend that they know Alexander Raven. No more can people run around and pretend that anything beyond the truth is right. You will acknowledge that Alexander Raven, is no liar. No False King. No imaginary prophet or messiah. No, you will acknowledge that Alexander Raven is everything he says. That at the end of the day, if I’m second best then that means you’re nothing but a bottom bitch. You don’t want to acknowledge my past, but demand that I acknowledge yours? Fuck you. I am not afraid of you Fenris. I’ve been beaten by fists as educated as yours. I’ve bled for better men, and I’ve been broken by far less. The one constant remains. That I do my best to be as restrained as I can for as long as I can. But when you insult me, when you stick your nose in my business and then you walk away and pretend I’m beneath you? The gloves are off Fenris. I’m going to start the year by making you understand something crucially important. That being blinded was the lightest you’ll get off. I went to war with Mercer and walked out the victor. I put Lachlan in so much pain the runt doesn’t even remember losing. I beat the colourblind moron in Finn Whelan, twice. But like the petulant child he is, and all those that spend time around you. He pretends that it’s a matter of effort. He didn’t try, he didn’t care, imagine if I tried. Imagine if anyone gave a flying fuck.”
“Do you understand Fenris? Can you for once, open your mind and listen. Listen to what is being said and instead of falling into this idea of superiority and holier than thou self righteousness. Make no excuses, and just face the music. Face up to what you instigated because you decided that you had any right to put your nose in my business. None of you had the right to put your nose in my business. None of you had the right to say anything, but you did. So now I have an issue with everyone. Because every single person follows like the sheep that they are. Nobody wishes to spread their wings. Sheep pretending to be wolves and every single one of you kisses each other’s asses to make yourselves feel valid. I don’t care for it. I don’t care for the lies. I don’t care for the excuses and the reasons. I care for none of it. For me there is one ultimate truth. There is one reality, and there is on thing to understand. If you stick your nose into my business, you will be called out. You will be made to confront me, and I will dog you until I am adequately pleased with the outcome. Obsession, focus, arrogance. Whatever you want to call it, the end result is the same. I will follow you until you stand and face me. Because I believe in solving things. I believe of being free of my binds.”
Light gone. Sudden darkness.
Then the click of lights, and the sound of flickering flames. Alexander Raven now stands, hands free and gripping a marble sculpture of a wolf head. Just south of him emblazoned in flames are the twin Ravens. The symbol of Huginn and Muninn. He slowly leans down and places the head of the wolf into heads of the ravens, into the flames.
“Duality. Thought and memory. Death and transformation. People often accuse me of waning poetic. Of being an angsty teen trapped in a adult’s body. Obsessed with birds, and being edgy as a result. The truth, however; as it has always been. A namesake. Be it one my father’s ancestors took mockingly, or be it one of signficance, I do not know. But the truth is that I am Duality. Anger and flames, but peace and truth. Thoughts of forgiveness but memories of anger. Death and Life come together, I walk that line. I intend to walk that line Fenris, and I do not know which side I will end up on. But I want you to know. I want you to remember.”
“I do not fear you. If my arm must break, then it will break. If my spine must bend, then it will bend. If my knees will give, then I will give them. But I will not be afraid. I will not let any story alter my view. I will not walk away. One mind, one path. I picked you, because you would not pick me. And that infuriates me beyond anything else. You may not be of the same ilk, but that ilk associates with you. I respect most people I step into the ring with. I leave with more. There is no respect here Fenris, because you stopped showing me any. Blinded you are still, even if you pretend otherwise. Though your physical sight returns, your mental sight is dimmed. For any man who behaves the way you have, should have seen the retribution coming. I intend to do what I need. Win, lose or draw, it matters not. The end result will be the same. I will take your throat, run it dry and put your head on a fucking spike for all others to see. That when you mess with Alexander Raven, there is but one final outcome.”
“Ruination.”
Alex smiles as he holds his hands up. Thousands of repeated reflections, a world of flame and laughter. His eyes fixated upon the flames, upon the marble sculpture that is cracking under the heat of the flames. A red liquid seeping from inside.
“A funeral for the White Wolf.”
The smile creeps across his face. Hands outstretched, before thrusting them downwards to his sides. The flames extinguishing, darkness taking everything. The flutter of birds wings, the cry of birds. Yellow and blue eyes filling the darkness. Hundreds of them. A spotlight illuminating a lectern with a red velvet pillow upon it. Sitting on it the Internet championship. Three sets of hands reach from the darkness, and rest upon it. The tattoos of one matching Alexander Raven. One set belonging to a woman, and the others to an unknown third.
“The Conspiracy has finally arrived. And you will build our throne.”
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.