The apartment of Vincent Lyons Jr is uncomfortably immaculate. The single broken glass in the sink, the only oddity or sign that the place has been lived in at.
Vincent stares at the broken glass with a cut on his hand speaking to himself in a low steady whisper.
“I was right there..” he said “I had everything right my hands, it was perfect until it wasn't."
He huffs in frustration.
“HB Carter.” he grumbled of all people “HB fucking Carter. I let that little primadonna bitch catch me slipping.”
He slams a fist on the counter leaving a small stain of blood from his cut hand.
“That's all it takes is one slip…” he said “That's all it takes for them to see weakness in you. That's all it takes for them to see you as a failure.”
There was a short pause and a knowing nod.
“You always pick the perfect time to show up these days.” he said.
“I only come when you call for me.” his father reminded him.
“I didn't call for anybody.” Vincent muttered.
“You don't have to.” his father said “You bleed and I hear it.”
Vincent looked at the blood on his hand and clenched it into a fist.
“I had him dad.” Vincent said “That match was mine and then it was gone just like that.”
“It's not that big of a deal..” his father said “We all miss now and then.”
“It wasn't a miss.” Vincent shot back “It was a rare moment of hesitation.”
“Same thing..” his father said.
“Don't call it the same thing!” Vincent snapped.
“Take it as a lesson.” his father said “And grow from it.”
“A lesson?” said Vincent beginning to pace in his kitchen “This is humiliation. Everybody's going to whisper about my decline and rewrite what they think they know about me.”
“You're still a champion.” his father said “Take a look at the card, you're in a championship match, Victoria is in a championship match. Is Eddie in a championship match? No. Because your Uncle Ray raised him to be soft. I raised fighters, and that's why the two of you stand where you do, and why you'll do more for the Lyon's name then Eddie or any of your uncle Zachary's bastards.”
“So I should feel honored because of names on a family tree?” Vincent said.
“I'm just saying you and Victoria are standing where you are because you don't apologize for anything, use that” his father said “Put Carter behind you and focus on what's next.”
“Hendrix..” Vincent said. “He's one of those who did something in SCW years ago and is trying to find his former glory. He gave a whole sob story about his parents, his daughter and his heart and this and that. He seems desperate if you ask me.”
“Use it.” His father said, "Whatever you can find to get under his skin, throw it in his face.”
“I will.” said Vincent.
“Good.” said his father “You take Brandon Hendrix and let him know who runs scw now. Show him why returning to the company was a mistake he'll never forget.”
“Oh he's going to find out he's in the wrong place at the wrong time." Vincent said “I have a lot of anger to let out after my loss to HB Carter and I'm going to unleash all this aggression on Brandon Hendrix.”
“Remember to focus.” his father said “Make sure to make them see the consequences of stepping into the ring with Vincent Lyons Jr.”
“Well.” Vincent said “This Brandon Hendrix seems to think he's some heartbroken hero in a tragedy. Perhaps I'll remind him what he seems to have forgotten in his absence, that this is no charity and I'm not going to be forgiving of anything.”
“Do more than remind him.” his father said “Make him feel it. Every second you're in that ring with him, make sure he knows you're not here to play nice.”
“Nice,” Vincent chuckled “There's nothing to be nice about. I lost to HB Carter because I hesitated. This time hesitation is no longer an option and Hendrix will be the first one to find that out.”
“Watch how he clings to his past like his shield.” his father said “It makes him predictable, use that and make him forget his own story.”
“Oh I'll make him forget.” Vincent smirked, “It won't take him long to realize that he gets no sympathy from me, and by then it will be too late and he will realize his own destruction is imminent.”
“Remember.” his father said “He doesn't get to define, you the Carters don't get to define you, you get to define you, and you set the terms.”
“And those terms are calling for me to put Brandon Hendrix back into history where he belongs.” said Vincent.
“Then do it.” his father said.
“I will.” replied Vincent.
Then everything was quiet again the voice of his father gone once more the glass was still broken in his sink a reminder of his aggression with the sigh he grabbed a fresh rag out of a drawer and applied a tourniquet to his injured hand, then sat in his living room comfortably among the silence with one single person on his mind.”
Brandon F'n Hendrix.
__________
Vincent liked the calmness of his mother's house and his mother always made him feel welcome. The cut on his hand from the other day had become a wound, a quiet reminder of the anger and frustration that still dwelled inside him.
“You've been quiet for a while.” his mother said looking up at him from across the table “You seem more settled than usual .“
“You could call it that I guess.” Vincent said humorously sometimes “I just like the familiar space to think.”
“Well it's good to have you here.” his mother said “It's always so good to see my wonderful children. Victoria was here the other day.”
That piqued his interest.
“And what did Victoria have to say, mother?” he asked.
“She's mostly focused on her own championship match.” she said, "I tried to talk to her you know, tried to get her to see things differently to come around to your point of view. But you know how stubborn your sister is.”
“Yeah.. I know.” Vincent muttered.
“She means well of course.” his mother said “But she overcomplicates things. You just need to give her time she'll come around.”
“I suppose.” Vincent said “Right now I'm not concerned about my sister, I need to focus on Brandon Hendrix and retaining my championship.”
“So what's the plan then?” asked his mother.
“To turn his sympathy against him.” Vincent said "Take the armor he uses and make it so heavy it crushes him entirely.”
His mother said nothing, only listened.
“He wants people to feel for him and his sob story.” he said “Maybe he thinks it'll make people be merciful. But I intend to show no mercy, mother and I will show him that he can't skate by on sentiment.”
“Nor should you.” his mother reminded him “Your father and I didn't raise you or your sister to be weak.”
“Yeah that's what Dad said.” Vincent replied.
His mother raised an eyebrow curiously.
“What do you mean that's what your father said?” she asked.
I..I mean thhhat's what he wwould have said..” Vincent replied stuttering slightly.
“Okay then.....” his mother said still looking at him curiously.
“I'll be fine Mother.” Vincent said, “Brandon Hendrix is nothing more than a mere obstacle. He's not ready to stand with the new school of SCW and I'm going to be the one to introduce him to that. A couple wins over Bill Barnhart don't make him a threat to me.”
“There's that Lyons spirit.” his mother grinned. “It's getting late, are you staying for dinner?”
“Of course.” Vincent said, unable to refuse one of his mother's home cooked meals.
“I'll go get the roast started.” she smiled and headed toward the kitchen. “You just get comfortable.”
Vincent watched as his mother headed into the kitchen to start the dinner preparations, and leaned back into his lounge chair comfortably, and had been his favorite growing up and still was.
He thought about Hendrix and the way he carried himself using sentiment as a shield. He could see the cracks forming before he even stepped into the ring with him. There was something he admired about somebody trying to fight their way back into relevance, but admiration and mercy were different things. He could give some admiration, but there would be no mercy. He would show Brandon Hendrix why he was the standard now and why he was the chosen champion of SCW.
He let his thoughts drift to Victoria for a moment, thinking about his mother and how she had tried to broker peace and failed to get Victoria to see reason. Victoria was stubborn in her own convictions as he was stubborn in his own, they were still twins after all and that brought a slight smile to his face. Someday maybe they'd reconcile, or maybe they wouldn't. Right now his focus was singular.
The wound on his hand ached slightly as he flexed his fingers, an almost meditative pain that reminded him of everything that had got him to this point. Thought about the looking Hendrix eyes when his armor of sympathy cracked under the weight of what Vincent was going to deliver, his jaw tightened at the satisfaction of the inevitability.
Falling back further into the he closed his eyes for a moment and allowed the warmth of his mother's home to overcome him. It all helped him feel grounded and reminded him that no matter what happened this place would remain his constant.
This was his calm before the storm that he intended to unleash on Brandon Hendrix.
__________
The camera opens on Vincent Lyons Jr leaning against a concrete wall in an empty warehouse. The roulette championship resting on his shoulder. He lets the camera linger on him for a moment, letting the silence get just uncomfortable before he speaks.
“You ever notice how some people treat this business like a confession booth?" he said shaking his head “They come with a story, sob in front of the camera and expect absolution. Begging for sympathy like it's currency. Just hoping someone will find them a spot on the card based on sympathy because of a tragedy they were once handed.”
He shakes his head.
“Is that what you expected Brandon Hendrix?” Vincent continued “When you told Bill Barnhart that little sob story about your past like anybody was supposed to care?”
He looks into the camera with no expression in his eyes.
“All I saw was weakness Brandon.” Vincent said “You revealed your weaknesses, because I'm going to tell you right here and now I don't give a damn about your dead parents. I don't give a damn about your ugly little daughter, and I certainly don't give a damn about that bad heart of yours.”
He remains expressionless as he continues.
“You don't bring heat, you just bring a sob story that nobody cares about.” Vincent said “Holding that little locket up , showing your daughter's picture like people are supposed to feel things. Not this guy, not Vincent Lyons Jr. I only know pain and chaos and you're going to find out exactly what it means to go up against somebody with the last name Lyons.”
He pauses.
“Being soft is not a virtue Brandon, it's a liability.”[/color] said Vincent “It's a weight that hangs between your ribs and makes you slow, the difference between a man who fights and a man who performs with grief.”
He exhales.
“This doesn't end well for you Brandon.” said Vincent “So you can save the tissues and the sob stories for someone else. Because I am going to hurt you, and your daughter will most likely have to visit you in the hospital. You know that bad heart of yours? I have the right mind to stop it early for you, and send you to go visit your parents.”
He laughs, amused with himself.
“You should never came back Brandon.” Vincent said “Because I'm going to expose you, and show that you just can't hang anymore. If you really care about your daughter you know you would do? You would go home and hold her and be with her.”
A sinister smirk grows across his face.
“You think you're the judge, jury and executioner.” said Vincent “Because maybe for a time that's what you were, but now that title belongs to me you can ask Logan Hunter what it feels like to piss me off. Maybe all those people all along were right when they shouted die Brandon die, perhaps your daughter should realize that her father is in fact, a fucking loser and the truth will only set her free and be better for her in the end. ”
He laughs again.
“Now all that's going to happen is your daughter watching and wondering… why.” Vincent said with a smirk “Wondering why the scary man won't stop hitting Daddy. Why he won't show Daddy any mercy, and let me tell you little girl… it's because your daddy is weak and your daddy doesn't deserve any mercy.”
He grins.
"You want to make this your second act that's fine." Vincent said "But I'm the director and this second act is only going to bring you more tragedy. More pain and more suffering I decide your fate and I decided you don't get a happy ending your daughter doesn't get a happy ending. The happy ending belongs to me, the chosen champion of Sin City wrestling Vincent Lyons Jr.”
He holds out his belt in front of the camera.
“You want this Brandon?” Well, you're not going to get it.” Vincent said “You can say anything you want, but when that bell rings you're going to see the look in my eyes and they're going to fill you with fear and you're going to realize that you made a huge mistake. You still have time to back out but if you don't then whatever happens is on you. Brandon Hendrix you have been warned.”
With one final arrogant smirk the camera jarringly cuts to black.
The diner looked cheap from the outside but Vincent was hungry and the place seemed like a quiet place where nobody would bother him and he could eat alone in peace.
Over the door gave a tired chime sound as he stepped inside, the waitress smiled at him unbeknownst to the fact that she had actually served his family earlier that day and he wouldn't be the last member of the family to arrive in the diner that day either.
Of course each of them gave the waitress a different experience, and Vincent definitely didn't give off the same warm feeling that Eddie and Sabrina had earlier.
His aura was more uncomfortable and left a feeling of uneasiness throughout the diner as he found his own little table in the back corner to sit alone.
The waitress came by giving him the same smile she gave every customer.
“Names Mindy, Can I get you some coffee?” she asked.
Vincent just nodded, and the waitress poured him the cup and left, vanishing without a second glance, he stared down to the blackness of his coffee. The first sip burned his throat and that was just how he liked it.
He could still see Carter's stupid grin in his head in that moment after the match was done and all that was left was a white blur, the taste of his own blood and the smell of humiliation. He could feel them all looking at him after looking at him like a lion who lost his teeth.
He clenched his jaw tightly.
People just saw him as the volatile member of his family, but nobody ever saw what came before the anger. The hours were he bled in silence so when the lights came on he could survive in the ring.
And still he was forced to watch someone like Carter get his hand raised.
It was enough to make him sick. He was better than HB Carter and he knew it. He was the one that they had chosen to be one of their champions. They had handed him a championship, and said we want you as our champion. Nobody else had that honor except Vincent Lyons Jr.
His mind shifted to Brandon Hendrix, the next sacrifice. The name he would carve into memory to show the world that he wasn't done yet.
He took another sip of coffee, still hot, still delicious.
“They think I've gone soft…” he muttered quietly to himself. “But I'll make Brandon Hendrix an example to show them how wrong they are.”
He looked up as the waitress returned to his table.
“Just coffee tonight hon’?” she asked politely “Or can I get you something to eat as well.”
“Steak.” he muttered “Rare. No sides.”
“Just a steak by itself?” she asked
Vincent glared at her as if to say -did I stutter-
She gave a nervous nod, refilled his coffee and took his order to the kitchen.
He took another sip of coffee, every sip stoking something inside of him. A burning fire that nobody could feel but him.
The waitress reappeared before he realized it, setting down his plate with a cautious smile.
“Rare and bloody for you sir.” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”
“More coffee.” he said.
She nodded, and quickly got him his refill and left him alone deciding it best to avoid any small talk.
Vincent grabbed his knife and pressed it through the meat, watching it open up underneath the blade bleeding slightly onto the plate. A grim satisfaction came across him.
The steak tasted cheap but that didn't matter it was just something to keep his hands busy as his mind tore through past memories and future plans.
That grin of HB Carter just wouldn't leave. That smug tilt of his mouth when the bell rang looking at Vincent not with pity, but with certainty like figured him out.
He sliced through another piece of steak and pictured Brandon Hendrix. He couldn't wait to get his hands on him to make him. To make him flinch and show him the reality of what it meant to get into the ring with Vincent Lyons Jr.
He stared at the blood collecting on his plate. It wasn't enough, it never was.
Vincent finished off the steak and wiped his mouth clean with the napkin. When the check came he left his money and neatly stacked his dishes, in that politely creepy way, before quietly making his exit.
He got into his car, and with no music playing drove off down the road, allowing Brandon Hendrix to remain the only thing on his mind amid the quiet.
_________
The camera opens on a dimly lit area with black curtains and a single light that only picks out the planes of the face of Vincent Lyons Jr looking at the lens like it owed him an answer. The roulette championship on his shoulder shining brightly through the darkness.
“I listened to you talk, Brandon.” Vincent said “I listened to you talk and talk and talk. Every word out your mouth sounding like a therapy session that nobody asked for.”
He keeps his expression calm and focused.
“Whatever you were in this company before doesn't matter to me.” said Vincent “What matters is what you are now and what I see is a crybaby who refuses to hold himself accountable for his own failures.”
A cold, calculated grin grows across his face.
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” said Vincent “Because if that's what you think you really don't know who I am. I'm not out there looking to meet the expectations of others. I'm looking out there to meet the expectations of Vincent Lyons Jr.”
He pauses shortly.
“And you know what? I failed those expectations on Climax Control when I let HB Carter beat me.” said Vincent “That primadonna little piece of…”
He clinches a fist and exhales heavily in frustration.
“No no NO! I can't let them do that to me. said Vincent “I can't let that family get under my skin. That's what they do to people you know. The Kasey's.”
His lip quivers, the name Kasey rolls off his tongue with the utmost disgust.
“Now Brandon I have this rage. This rage building inside me.” said Vincent “I can hear the Kasey's. Their smug voices mocking me. I need to let this rage out, and unfortunately for you, you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He laughs smugly.
“Because the truth is what I've already told you." said Vincent “I don't care. Whatever sob story you want to wine and complain about, means nothing to me. Your daughter, means nothing to me. Your failing heart, means nothing to me. If you want to paint yourself as a victim I have no problem making you one.”
He pauses.
“You want to complain about being told you weren't good enough.” said Vincent “All the critics, all your doubters. Did you never stop to think that maybe they weren't wrong?”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Respect isn't something you cry about.“ Vincent said “It's something you take. You stand tall when the smoke settles and everyone else is broken. That's what I do. That’s why I was chosen to hold this championship because I don't ask for anybody's sympathy.”
He probably pats his championship.
“That's what truly makes us different.” Vincent said “You think the world is unfair and against you. But I know it is. But unlike you I don't complain about it, I feed off it.”
There's a slight quiver in Vincent's lip.
“You think you're the only one that's bled under those lights?” [/color]said Vincent "You think you've got the monopoly on suffering? Because you don't. You just don't know how to shut up and live with it.”
He gives a heavy annoyed exhale.
“You're tired of people looking at you like a joke.” said Vincent “But the thing is Brandon, when you spend all your time screaming for validation what else can people call you? You're not fighting for respect, your auditioning for pity and pity doesn't win championships. You say you'll be damned if I take your spot? What spot is that exactly? Because last I checked one of us is a champion around here and one of us isn't.”
He motions to his championship drawing attention to it.
“You think this championship is going to fill some empty void in your life.” said Vincent “That's not drive, that's desperation.”
He pauses, taking in a breath.
“You're all upset because I questioned if you were ready?” said Vincent. “Your goddamn right I did. All your whining and complaining only tells me that you're not because the man who has to convince himself that he's ready, truly isn't.”
He pauses shortly again.
“You don't need to worry about me taking your spot." Vincent said, “Because I already have. You just haven't realized it yet. You don't understand that I'm not looking to go as far as I need to win this match, I'm going as far as I want.”
He smiles, but it's anything but friendly. His eyes never move, remaining fixated on the camera, unblinking.
“I'm not looking for people to love me.” Vincent said “I'm looking to make them remember me. They're going to remember me as the man who rips people apart. The man who turns every match into an autopsy.”
He exhales, keeping the cold grin on his face.
"I'm not just going to beat you Brandon. I'm going to instill fear in you I'm going to make you wish you never came back. I'm going to send you home to your daughter with a chill that crawls up your spine every time you hear my name.” he continued
He laughs.
“I want you to remember everything Brandon." Vincent said “Every broken rib, every cracked bone, because it's going to be proof that you're crying and excuses need to stop. Proof that Vincent Lyons Jr showed you what happens when pain evolves into purpose, rather than pity.”
He takes a few steps closer to the camera.
“You say you're going to fuck me up?” said Vincent “Well, challenge accepted Brandon. I mean, somebody's going to be getting fucked up in this match, but it's not going to be me. I'm going to be the one fucking you up. Understand there will be no respect, there will be no mercy. Just cold, cruel calculated violence. I'm going to walk out of High Stakes still the Roulette Champion, and I'll send you home with something to truly cry about.”
He laughs to himself again as the light flickers above him, then slowly dies to the sounds of a violin, leaving everything in darkness.
[/i]