Breaking It In
Scene One | Off-Camera
Celebration was the name of the game for the night. It was something that Luna had always heavily encouraged in their household. New jobs, successes, encouragement after a tough run. Realistically, celebration was just an excuse for them to keep things feeling fresh and exciting. Winning the Roulette Championship for a second time? That was a good reason to celebrate. Even if right now it felt little more than a consolation prize.
Part of Alex wondered if this was more a case of them attempting to keep him interested. To make the negotiation period a harder one for him to knock back. Reality wasn’t as clear cut as he was making it. It wasn’t so much he wanted to leave and stop. He couldn’t stop. Being in the ring, hurting himself, hurting others. Breaking his back and running himself into an early end. That was his goal. That had always been his goal.
So, when it came to his contract, to potentially leaving Sin City? It wasn’t the end goal. It had never truly been the end goal. No, the goal had been for him to have autonomy in his career. To have the choice to take the matches he wanted, when he wanted them. To be able to throw his ego-filled weight around any way he wanted. It had been that way since the beginning of the year. He had wanted an out, and that had been the goal when he put his career on the line against J2H. To give himself the space to be the supporter.
To celebrate Luna and her achievements.
He’d asked for the opportunity to simply take a step back. To be an observer for the time being. The discussion was meant to happen after the world title tournament. He’d made such an impression on J2H, that the man vacating the belt had all but demanded that Alex be given a chance to make a run to the end. In another situation? That might have been the right call. It might have finally given him the chance to make a run to the top and sit there. To fight off the likes of Finn Whelan, Goth and with how the Blast from the Past played out, new contenders like Sean Parker.
That wasn’t the case, however. He was still in mourning. Six months later, he was still mourning. Maybe not as fiercely, and not as heavily, but he was still mourning. Mourning the loss of his brother-in-law. His best friend, Luna’s blood brother. There was a fog of sadness and depression in their house. There was a fog of loneliness. Celebration was another way of hiding the pain. Slipping into the throes of romance and passion, covering up the painful thoughts with alcohol. They were dealing with it, and they weren’t even pretending to try.
He wanted time to grieve, and that had not been given to them. The discussion on giving him some autonomy had been shelved, and he had been screaming for them to pay attention ever since. He had been screaming for them to give him just a moment of their time to acknowledge what he needed. If that meant throwing accusations of foul play around, taking out other talent and disrupting the status quo? Then he would do so. That had always been his area of success. To take what was good and turn it on its head. If they would not listen, he would make them.
That was where he was at with it all. He just wanted the ability to choose. To take his own life into his own control. To be Luna’s manager. To work grudge matches and be the guy who put the spurs to those who thought themselves bigger than they were. To take arrogant upstarts like Jayden Harris and put them in their place. To make them understand that no lineage, no amount of training and no amount of bravado and arrogance was going to make them mean anything. To make people respect each other once more. No more failures, no more hypocrisy. An understanding. He wanted to grieve, heal and then hurt others. It wasn’t such a far-fetched idea.
If it meant taking the Roulette Championship? So be it. If it meant teaming up with the likes of J2H who had the autonomy he so desperately sought? So be it. If it meant putting people like Ben Jordan and Samantha Marlowe of the shelf? So be it. He would ruin tournaments; he would disrupt their ideas and he would make them listen. He needed them to listen.
This wasn’t all, however. He’d jumped in bed with the devil, for lack of a better phrase. He’d been attempting to meet with Sullivan Pleasant ever since Alex’s last meeting with Vita Mors. The host needn’t be willing, it simply needed to be someone who Mors could overpower, and Alex had no doubt the defeated and downtrodden Sullivan Pleasant would be able to fight back. The problem however was it was hard to talk to a man who was locked up, if that man didn’t want to take visitors. Mors didn’t seem particularly concerned, but for Alex? The sooner he could unload the beast, the better.
His head felt like a battlefield. Dealing with his own issues, with the blurring of lines between real conspiracy and his falsified ones and then the ever-looming presence in the back of his mind. No matter how much he worked to go against it? He could swear that he could hear Vita Mors whispering to his own mind. Having a conversation with his own brain and body, that he wasn’t privy to. He was used to the ghosts. He was used to having conversations with things that didn’t exist. With people who had long since died. Manifestations of his own psyche’s guilt that persisted to torment him. He could deal with their voices… for the most part.
But having someone essentially living inside his mind? Having someone having conversations with his own mind but keeping that hidden? That was a concern. That was not an ideal situation. It wasn’t an ideal outcome at the best of times, but currently? It was making everything else a far more difficult situation than it should have been.
“You’ll get stuck looking like that if you aren’t careful.” Luna said softly, her voice pulling him out of his thoughts. Bringing him back to reality. Blinking a little bit he suddenly remembered where he was. Celebrating. Sitting on a chair in their bedroom, Roulette championship draped over his legs. Luna had slipped on a dressing gown at some point, and by the looks of it had showered as well. He breathed in deeply and smiled at her, leaning forward a little in the seat.
“Unfortunately for you, this is just my face.” Alex said in response, looking around for something for him to slip on. As liberating as it was to sit around in the nude being covered up by nothing more than the championship, it was also a little bit exposing. Luna shrugged, picking up a bottle of champagne she’d left beside the bed. Refilling a pair of glasses that were nearby. She nodded her toward the dresser, Alex’s own dressing gown hanging over one of the drawers that was sticking out.
“When were you going to tell me about this little partnership with J2H, lover? It’s one thing to try run that poor Jayden boy over. It is another thing to get in bed with… that thing.” Luna said with just the slightest hint of repulsion. Alex had known this conversation would come along.
“You’ve been busy. You’ve got more on your plate than me. One thing to get to the end of the Blast from the Past. Another thing to go on to try and win the belt on that ship. We dropped the ball last year, my fault, not yours. Didn’t want you to worry about my machinations, you know?” Alex said softly, standing up slowly to cross the room. He placed the championship belt on the dresser top, pulling his own gown on slowly. Wincing slightly as he did. His body was held together by sticky tape and glue at this point.
“Shit excuse. I hope you’ve thought it out, that’s all.” Luna said sharply, casting a severe sideways glance his way. She handed him one of the glasses, and then stepped into him, throwing her arms up and around his neck. Her own glass hanging at a dangerous angle.
“Sorry, you’re right. Better the devil you know. Can’t say I’m ever going to be in Mark Cross’s good books, to see how he gets his autonomy. For what it is worth, there does seem to be some mutual respect between myself and Hawkes. He has what I want, too. Freedom to choose. If I can’t get it myself before that contract comes up, then I’ll put them in a losing situation.” Alex said, placing a soft kiss to the top of Luna’s head, wrapping an arm around her waist in response. She breathed in deeply and nodded a little into his neck, pulling back to look up into his eyes.
“I understand, baby boy. I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. Just be smart, okay? Mantle needs a few more belts on it, you know?” Luna said quietly, nodding toward the Roulette championship. Alex laughed a little and nodded.
“Got space for at least three more, I think. You’ll show ‘em all.” Alex said, slowly walking them toward the bed. His neck was starting to hurt something fierce, and the extra pressure wasn’t doing much for it. Luna could see the pain etched on his face and dropped her hands, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Alex let his arm drop from around her waist.
“You need a massage, lover?” Luna asked softly, shuffling back on the bed a little before getting up on her knees, wobbling about. It seemed that the champagne had gone straight to her head tonight. They did seem to be drinking a little more than usual lately. Hiding their pain. Alex turned and sat on the edge of the bed, rolling his head back and forth a little. She held her glass out to him, gesturing that he holds it for her.
He took it with his free hand and held both glasses as her hands came to rest on his shoulders. Surprisingly strong and yet nimble hands. That was just another reason he had serious doubts and concerns coming into October. He was falling apart physically too. Ever since his Internet Championship reign, he’d been running on fumes. He’d been given small breaks, medically mandated ones, but it hadn’t been enough. Years ago, it took his skull nearly being turned into soup, and being set on fire in the middle of the ring to put him on the shelf. It was four or five years on before he felt okay again. Where he wasn’t waking up in agony.
The last year had not been kind to him. Busted noses, cracked ribs, and a plethora of strains and pulled muscles. The medical advice was often that he should take time off, but he was technically well enough to compete. Held together by sticky tape and glue, but still able to go. The freedom to choose his matches, that. That was for preservation as well. As Luna’s hands worked their magic trying to ease the tightened muscles and knots, he wondered how long he really had left in the game. At his current work rate, he might not even make it to October. Truth was that a thirty-minute ironman match against Jayden? It was begging for his body to shut down on him. Experience was going to be the play here, and maybe pulling in a favour. Quid pro quo.
He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, trying to just take the moment as it was. To be happy here, as a new champion, with his wife who was going to be a future world champion, having ‘broken in’ the Roulette Championship. A firm but loving touch working out the aches, and a hopeful window at the end. Even if the path to that window was becoming muggier with every day.
“I love you, Lexi.” Luna said softly, as she draped her arms over his shoulders, and kissed his neck.
“I love you, Lu.” He said softly, taking the moment to just be… here.
An Example
Scene Two | On-Camera
“Everyone around here is a fucking comedian. I mean, there is no other reason that every single person would be talking about choking, right? I’ll give Aiden his props. The boy at least pretended to show me some respect. Acknowledged that when it comes to being in this ring? There’s none more lethal than Alexander Raven. He at least acknowledged that when it comes to preparation? There’s none that match the acumen of Alexander Raven. So, when Aiden Reynolds stepped into that ring he knew, that was going to be it. Simple as he is, simplicity was the only thing needed.”
“I walked into Climax Control, the challenger, and I walked out, the champion. Like I said I would. I appreciated what that man stood for, and then I washed his respect down his throat. For only moments earlier, I had put my hand in the grip of one of the few that actually deserve my respect. That being, James Huntington-Hawkes III, J2H. The man, who this week, will look to take that Golden Opportunity and hold it. Hold onto the opportunity to take back his World Championship whenever he goddamn feels like it. That’s one hell of a play.”
“I shook James’ hand, because there is nobody else that even comes close to that man in terms of the impact that they have here. So, when a mouthy little bitch like Jayden Harris looks to step out of his lane? That doesn’t sit well with me. When a Harris throws their weight around here, like the name itself doesn’t stir irrational anger and involuntary nausea. When a Harris steps to the bar and pretends that they mean something, well. I’ve got something to say about that, but before I do. I want to acknowledge something. To acknowledge the chirping and the nattering. The incessant barking and complaining, because it seems to me that no matter how much I tell people to fucking listen, they all talk and talk and talk, and not a single fucking one of them uses their ears.”
“Not me. I listen to the chirps of every bug that thinks they can get away with it. Christian himself pretends to be ignorant to my desires. To the one thing I have been saying for the last six months. Come October, I am gone. ‘Oh, but Raven, why don’t you just leave early?’ I hear them say. Well, if people listened they’d know already. I wanted out. I wanted to take my ball and go home. I wanted to explore the world and my options. I wanted to be fucking free of this company, and then they put me in the World Title Tournament. Now if it hadn't been for the request from James himself? I wouldn’t have turned up. I’d just lost my best friend, and I was in mourning. You know what this company gave me for that? Legal threats.”
“See I’ve wanted out, I’ve asked for my out, and every time I have tried to ‘break’ my contract, the same threats are laid on the table. Sin City Wrestling will take you to court and take you for all your worth. I’ve said it since day one, and not a single fucking time have they denied it. No, they have just simply kept on keeping on. So, for the final fucking time. All of you are being punished for the actions of two men who think in holding me hostage, that I will become subservient. That by occasionally feeding the frenzied beast, I will forgive them for their transgressions and let them walk all over me. Remain shackled and held in a place I resent. That I have spent six months attempting to destabilise, and successfully mind you. So, hopefully people will finally fucking listen, but now. Now you’ve got my full attention.”“Hello Jayden.”
“I’m glad we’re finally going to get this opportunity. To step into that ring together. Thirty minutes, as many falls as we can. Ironmen. That’s what this is all about. The man with the cape has determined that as recompense for my actions, that we will have to bang and bash heads for thirty minutes. I may be a little bit older, and a little bit more rundown, but. Like a good car, Jayden. I can’t be slowed down.”
“It’s somewhat apropos that we are thrust into this submission only ironman match. I get it, truly. I know you’re thinking that this falls into your ballpark. I want you to think about this for a moment. I want you to really understand why I don’t think you understand why this isn’t in your favour. Let’s go back to the end of last year. When J2H and I were butting heads, not over blood rivalry and hatred. No, nothing that dramatic. What it meant for us was a contest of respect. For the World Championship. You see the untimely firing of your relative, Michael Harris? It left a void up there at the top. Six men were chosen to try and fill that void, and the two that stood there? Alexander Raven and James Huntington-Hawkes. The two best that this company had to offer.”
“James walked away the winner, but he put it to me. To pick the time, place and stipulation. A confident champion, and one who demanded I win his respect. I went through the works, the different ideas and the concepts. The safe part of me wanted to go with the grit. The blood and the guts, the deathmatch ideology. That is where I feel safest. I feel safest when I slice my forearm open on a skylight in Peru. I feel safest when there is a threat of being dunked in a tank of questionable fluid origin, filled with Piranha. I feel safest when I get to slam person after person into an ambulance in an eliminator to the dulcet tones of the Death Grips. Where I didn’t feel safe? Technical masterclasses. So, what did I do? I picked a submission only match. I had the two options in mind, ironman or submission only. Those were my choices; those were my thoughts.”
“The things that put me outside my comfort zone, for only in reaching into a bag of tricks that isn’t attached to my heart, could I grow. Could I find a way forward, could I prove to myself once and for all. I wasn’t the second-class citizen of Sin City Wrestling, no. I was the god damn man to beat. I was the kind atop the fucking hill. I was the man who was going to be, and then. Like everyone keeps saying. I choked.”
“I lost that match. I got tapped out by James, a sweet irony of losing my best friend that same week. A man who shares his namesake. I lost my James and in turn? I was ruined by J2H. I wanted out, Jayden. You know what people didn’t have the confidence to say at the time? That they thought less of me. That they thought I choked. No, they were silent. They were silent, talking and laughing behind my back. Tearing me down in the private conversations that they were certain would not reach my ears. I know this, because of the confidence with which they mock me now. The confidence I’m sure you will mock with me. I know what people think of me, Jayden. I know what you must think of me. I want you to think long and hard about the choices you are making. The bravado of youth threatening to be your undoing. That is what you need to acknowledge. That is what you need to think about.”
“Let’s loop it back though, before I lose myself. The one thing I learnt in that match? When it comes to tapping someone out? When it comes to choking someone out? It wasn’t so far out of my wheelhouse. It turns out, I kind of like the feeling of someone losing their consciousness in my arms. I kind of like how it feels when someone is screaming and begging for me to let them go, at risk of breaking their fucking body. Hell, you go back far enough, and my Internet Championship reign started with me putting Lachlan Kane to fucking sleep. I am a fast learner, and a deadly tactician when I need to be. I want you to listen to the respect that Aiden Reynolds gave me last week. I want you to listen to the concern in his voice, I want you to see that. I want you to know it. I want you to talk to your friends, and your family. I want you to look at what I can do and understand this.”
“For thirty minutes, it is you and me. For thirty minutes I get to choke you out. I get to take your arm and snap it. I get to take your leg and break it. For thirty minutes I get to put you in every imaginable stretch, every imaginable hold and every imaginable choke. I get to hurt you for thirty minutes Jayden. I didn’t even have a stake in the game, and I was willing to run your ass down. What do you think I’ll do to you now? Now that I have something to win. Now that I have something to gain. I want you to consider this, Jayden. For there is nothing I would like more than to hurt the prodigal son of the man who dominated this company last year. For there is nothing I would like to do more than hurt the up and coming ‘Brat’ of Sin City Wrestling. To take another piece of the board and leave this place wanting just a little bit more than it already was. I took out Ben, no problem. Truthfully? I don’t know if we see Aiden Reynolds back in the same way, so we’ll chalk that one up to. Jack Washington? Hasn’t been seen around here since he came up short against me in the aforementioned six pack challenge. Mark Cross? Sent his fragile fucking ass home and left him feeling as foolish as his face makes him appear.”
“I don’t want to have to hurt you, Jayden, but I will. I don’t want to have to put you on the sidelines, but I will. I will hurt you, because you don’t respect people who you should. I will hurt you because your cock-sure arrogance does not sit well with me. I will hurt you, Jayden. I will break you, and at the end? You’ll thank me for it. You’ll thank me for putting you out of your goddamn misery. You’ll thank me for showing you that you are not the big dog in this park. That there is a reason you couldn’t get past Mark Cross and I could. That there is a reason that J2H hates you fucking guts and will shake my hand instead. There are reasons for everything, Jayden, and I intend to show you why.”
“I’m going to put you out; I’m going to hold onto this Roulette Championship. Hell, I might go win the Mixed Tag Team Championships with Luna, and in four months? I’ll walk away with it all. I’ll take the championships, I’ll take the careers of every person they put in front of me, and then at the end? Everyone will be thanking me. Thanking me for being kind enough to let them survive. Kind of enough to let them keep on living. They’ll thank me for giving them the opportunity to thrive, because right now? Mouthy little shits like you Jayden? Uppity hypocritical and flaky fucks like Carter? Delusional and forgetful cunts like Miles? Every single one of you, I will break. Every single one of you has a mark on your name, and that means that the Napalm Kingslayer will be coming for you.”
“So, I’ll start this week when I break you down Jayden. Straight off a championship win in the main event last week. I’ll tap your bitch ass out as many times as it takes to make you realise that thirty minutes with me? That’s thirty minutes of your life you cannot salvage. That is thirty minutes that is going to cost you thirty fucking years. When your knees ache, when your neck hurts. When your back struggles to hold you up, and you realise you’ve only aged another five years? You’ll remember the mistakes. You’ll remember that Guy put you in this match with Alexander Raven, and that it was the biggest fucking mistake of your career, and it only happened four matches in.”
“I don’t know how you swung this match with that freak, the pretender king, but I’ll make you regret it. I’m going to walk the floor with you, boy. I’m going to make you forget about redeeming your family in this company. I’m going to take what you think you are talented with and break it. If I must snap your arm, I will. If I must snap your neck, I will. If I must break your scrawny tiny little body, then I fucking will. I am bigger than you, I am stronger than you. I am more experienced, and Jayden? I’ve faced much more intimidating opponents than an uppity kid who thinks they can slap on a choke and be seen as something. Everyone keeps calling me a choke artist, and maybe that is apt. Because I got not problem choking your bitch ass out. I hope you listened, Jayden.”“Have you been listening? I need you to fucking listen."
