[Kristopher Ryans]

 FLASHBACK
13 July 2017
9:43 pm PDT
San Diego, CA
OFF-Camera

He had almost forgotten how much hotter it was in San Diego than anywhere else he had lived. The strange thing was that he lived in New York City specifically because it was the polar opposite. He had gone there for the cold. He had gone there because if the weather was so much different, maybe life would be too. That was not only faulty logic, but the type of stupidity that Kris had made fun of in order to get his name recognized. Hypocrisy and irony aside, the fact that the weather was on his mind was a clear indication of how long he had been sitting on these stairs. Summer XXXtreme came and went. The hell that followed was also starting to pass. He was not sure where he, Heather, and Kali were headed, but he was confident that it was somewhere better than the purgatory they were all in while the cruise was going on. The only thing he was looking forward to now was a week off to prepare for whatever came next. It would be a few days before he would even have to focus on that though. Today was about something different. It was personal, which meant no crooked smirks, nor winks. He was nervous, which meant that it was not something that he was going to be sharing with the rest of the world. This was not a positive step professionally, or some hurdle on his way to handling his addiction. It was something else entirely. Whatever happened was going to determine whether the corner they were about to turn was an easy one, or if the road ahead was going to keep being rocky. The two ladies dropped him off at noon. For almost ten hours he sat, patiently waiting for the owner of the house to get home. What was he going to look like? How was he going to react to Kris being here? Was he going to feel ambushed? They were questions that Kris fought with all day, yet was no closer to an answer when a yellow hatchback pulls into the driveway. The man in the driver’s seat eyes Kris, but his expression is near impossible to read from the large sunglasses on his face. Kris gets up to his feet as the engine cuts off, and starts to make his way down the short sidewalk from the door to the driveway as the driver steps out.

Kris: “Excuse me...”

The man turns around, he was every bit as tall as the Roulette Champion, and built in a similarly stringy way. His hair was unmistakably the same color as Kris’, and from the looks of it, had every intention of sticking around on top of the man’s head for decades to come. All in all, things could have gotten off to a worse start. Kris tried as best he could to keep the nervousness out of his voice, but when the man turns and takes the sunglasses off of his face, he knew he had done a terrible job.

Man: “Someone that gets punched in the face for a living, looking nervous and anxious at the sight of a photographer. I don’t think anyone is going to believe me when I tell them.”

Kris’ brow furrows. He had questioned if this man would know who he was, but none of the answers, or scenarios, that Kris had come up with during the day were anything close to the man being a simple fan.

Kris: “You are a fan of Sin City?”

It could have been a double-edged sword. If he was not a fan, but knew who Kris was, the jab comes off personal. If he was a fan, there was a good chance that he did not like Kris based on that fact alone. People always told him the way he behaved in front of a camera was going to backfire someday. He did not think it was going to be today though.

Man: “I watch it when I have time to catch it. I’m not a devout fan by any means. I don’t lose any sleep if I miss it. Though the better question is, what brings the Sin City Roulette Champion to my doorstep?”

The words sound innocent enough by themselves, but the way they are said rubs Kris the wrong way. The man’s eyes linger on Kris for just a half-second too long, a giveaway that he was trying to read the champion’s expression instead of his words. He knew the look, because he had heard Jason describe it to him thousands of times over the course of their lives. Kris had never been able to recreate it in a mirror to see for himself, but it was exactly how Jason had described. Suddenly realizing that the awkward silence had dragged for more than a couple seconds, Kris shakes the thought loose and answers the question with a fake, lazy smile.

Kris: “I’m sorry. You must be pretty baffled. It isn’t the part of California to have a celebrity drop on your doorstep--”

The man grabs a few bags from the backseat of the car, throwing straps over his shoulders to carry all of his equipment. He closes the back hatch just as Kris finishes the first part of his thought, and cannot stop himself from butting in.

Man: “I wouldn’t really say celebrity. You’re the third tier champion of a company that hasn’t gotten much bigger than a really successful indy circuit despite being around for years. Your brother though...”

Kris winces at the word, like it physically hurt to put thought into his brother. There was no chance to hide it either, and he knew that the man had picked up on it. Unfortunately, it meant that he already knew more about Kris than Kris was wanting to tell him in this first meeting. However, it did mean that they did not have to play this game anymore. Kris’ tone comes out flat when he finds the right words.

Kris: “You’re Holden Ryans, aren’t you? I am in the right place.”

Holden nods his head, but goes to step around Kris, heading up to the house.

Holden: “If you’ll excuse me though I have a lot of film to develop...”

This was it, every worst case scenario was starting to come true. The shift in attitude, the brush off, it made it painfully obvious. He knew exactly who Kris was, and what he was, but he was still walking away.

Kris: “I know that you know you’re my father.”

It was less than tactful, but the words were out of his mouth before he could choke them down. The accusation lands perfectly though, stopping Holden in his tracks. He looks back slightly over his shoulder, but does not turn around as he speaks.

Holden: “I’ve always known. I was just never in a position to do anything about it back when it would have mattered.”

The words are just above a mutter, and clearly meant to justify why they are having this conversation twenty-eight years late. It was not a good enough answer though. If Kris was honest with himself, there was not going to be an answer that was good enough, no matter what it was.

Kris: “It matters to me.”

Holden shrugs off his bags, lowering them gently to the concrete sidewalk before turning around. Kris was hoping to see remorse on his face, but there was none to be found. It seemed as if Kris’ words had the total opposite impact.

Holden: “Listen kid, you had a dad that proved a few times that he was more than capable of beating me to death, and a mom that was so keen on keeping him around that she would have done anything to keep me out of the picture.”

Kris takes a step forward, not wanting to hear excuses. Every other person that had hurt him had slithered out of his life without getting to hear Kris’ feelings on the matter. His father was dead. His mother was fuck knew where. His brother had sent a messenger to break the news that he had a different father, the coward standing in front of him.

Kris: “You lived here the whole time. You had to know what he was doing to us. You have to have seen. You were an adult. You could have gone to anyone. You could have stopped it.”

Each statement sounds harsher than the last. By the time he gets to the end, he is practically screaming. Instead of raising his in return, Holden holds his arms out to his sides, shrugging his shoulders, defeated.

Holden: “I tried. I tried everything I could think of. At first it was the threats that kept me away. When those weren’t enough it was the beatings, so when I saw that I know what some of that must have been like for you, you can trust that. After that it was your brother. He was the only person you had in your life that meant something, and my being there would have taken that away. It would have invalidated the one positive thing in your life. I wasn’t willing to do that. I made your mom promise not to tell you anything until she died. I’m almost surprised that she last this long.”

The anger is gone, replaced by confusion. Kris’ face scrunches up and he shakes his head.

Kris: “What are you talking about? Jason found out about you. He’s the one that told me.”

It does not seem to surprise Holden at all. The fact that he was so plain-faced about the question was near infuriating on its own. Kris was starting to get a small dose of what he was like to talk to himself, and was finding himself suddenly much more supportive of the theory of nature over nurture. Holden tries to break it down for him anyways.

Holden: “And who told him, Kris? Where did he get all this new information what he wouldn’t have ever thought to look for on his own. You are all he has. He is all you had for a very long time. Why would he seek out something to ruin that? For someone that play smart on television, you’re playing pretty dumb.”

It should have made him mad, but instead it just made him want to prove himself. Kris was not going to stand there and let some man that was never there for him put pieces of a puzzle together or him like he was an idiot.

Kris: “So she told him. Who cares? I have died since the last time that I talked to her, and I bet she was excited to hear the news. The last motherly thing she did for me was push me out.”

Holden holds up his left hand, his fist closed, except his extended index finger. Kris had a similar mannerism for correcting people, and seeing someone else do it back to him made him feel like he was trapped in a mediocre Twilight Zone episode.

Holden: “She actually didn’t push you out. The doctors ended up having to pull you. She gave up when it wasn’t going as easy as labor with your brother.”

Kris’ mouth drops open, and he struggles to find the words to respond. Just when Holden is about to cut him off, Kris raises his hand, his palm to his father, stopping him.

Kris: “How do you know all this stuff about me? About her? About Jason? You keeping track of me from the shadows or something? Waiting for the day that I would find out?”

As much as Kris’ words made it out to sound like a negative, there was nothing that he wanted more than for the answer to be yes. Dr. Halliwell had even suggested to him that the reason that he was hooked on the idea of meeting this person was because of the hope that there was someone out there that actually wanted him. That is what made the answer all the more heartbreaking.

Holden: “At first it was just stories she told in bars. Then it was phone calls when he was drunk and they were fighting. I kept track of you for a while once you were old enough to be going around on your own. I could never actually be in your life while they were. Your… that man, did not want me around. I don’t have the kind of money to fight a custody battle, let alone even fully support you if I would have won. Then...”

He pauses but not pull his eyes away from his son. Kris made no attempt to interrupt, so is at a loss for an explanation. He shakes his head, rotating his left hand in a circle for his elder to spit it out.

Kris: “Then what? Come on. What’s your next excuse.”

Any hesitation that Holden has was gone. He did not enjoy feeling pressured into uncomfortable conversations, and realized that there were only a few ways to end this one.

Holden: “Then I saw the person you were becoming. The drugs. The being everyone else’s problem. The getting on television and saying horrible things about people you don’t really know. I decided that maybe there wasn’t any reason for me to waste my time. If that’s the person you choose to show the world, the man behind the scenes can’t be much of a gem.”

Holden reaches down for his bags, content that his words are vicious enough to push Kris away. Little did he know, stubbornness was genetic as well.

Kris: “Yeah, well I don’t know why I came looking for answers from a guy that’s full of excuses, and willing to turn his back on his family so easily. Maybe I was better off where I ended up.”

Holden stands back up, lifting the bags and shouldering the straps. He nods, happy to lose the argument if it meant getting to exit the conversation.

Holden: “We’ll never know, will we? All of us had a part in making that happen.”

He turns back towards the door, hoping that Kris would have it in him to let it go. The Roulette Champion was not about to absorb the last insult before simply tucking tail and running though. It just so happened that he had the perfect answer.

Kris: “My kids didn’t.”

Holden stops, unable to deflect away from that one. He turns, just halfway, the majority of his body begging him to just go inside.

Holden: “They’re both basically babies right? The boy is not even two, your daughter probably not even crawling yet?”

Kris nods, feeling some of the hostility start to drift away just with the thought of his kids.

Kris: “That’s not something you’re going to be able to hear me talk about when you can catch me on television. They aren’t going to be people you can follow on Twitter. You can write me off as the guy you see in front of a camera, or the kid that got hooked on drugs, but they didn’t do anything to deserve not having any grandparents at all. The ones they have either don’t care, or are dead. They’ll never get to know what it is like to get to know family outside of a couple people. They’re the best thing I have ever done in this world.”

It actually makes the older man smile. For the first time there is no game Kris is playing, or bullshit he was selling, only honesty. Unsurprisingly, it worked.

Holden: “That’s a popular thing parents say about their children.”

Kris nods.

Kris: “So maybe you should judge me based on the person I am with those two, and not the person I am to collect a paycheck.”

It was simple enough, but Kris knew that he would not be so simple. If Holden was going to cave a little, Kris was going to have to as well, quid pro quo.

Holden: “Then maybe you can try to see me as a guy that had to make a lot of hard choices, instead of just some guy you feel abandoned you.”

It draws a laugh from Kris, that Holden could have never have imagined he would enjoy hearing as much as he did.

Kris: “What do I have to lose? I showed up batting 1.000 on shitty parents. What could get worse if I am wrong about that?”

The question gets a response that Kris would have given if their positions were reversed.

Holden: “You don’t strike me as a person that enjoys being wrong though. You sure you can live with that?”

Kris closest the distance between them, pointing at one of the straps over Holden’s shoulder and offering a hand to help carry things.

Kris: “I guess I’ll find out.”



========================================
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”Really?”
ON-Camera

”Summer XXXtreme was the last match that I was booked in on purpose...”

As the scene comes to life we find Kris, lounging on a hammock in San Diego. The camera is angled so that the sunset is on one side of the frame, bathing Kris in light on the other.

”Correct me if I am wrong, but that was more than a month ago. I mean you can throw in that half-assed match I had as an alternate opponent for James Tuscini, but let’s be honest, it shouldn’t count. That was a matter of being available and in the right place, at the right time. It doesn’t change the fact that management has failed to intentionally book their longest reigning men’s champion since their last supercard. To that I can only ask one question.”

He holds his arms out to his sides, his face covered in disappointment.

”Really?”

It seemed overly cliche for Kris, but it only helped to drive home his point.

”Your world champion is so much of a draw, you can discard the Roulette Champion for more than a month?”

He sarcastically snaps his fingers, like the thought struck him only after posing the question. He makes a clicking sound with his tongue against his cheek, and shakes his head.

”No. That’s right. He quit. Now we have some replacement who gets to tell the world he beat the likes of Steve Ramone, and James Tuscini to win the top prize in this company. We get treated to the angry rants of someone that we have no reason to give a shit about. We lost J2H, a guy that carried the top title for a year, and in return, got the guy that took out that one nameless Samoan dude. Does that seem fair? Really?”

Almost as if by divine intervention, another idea strikes Kris. He raises his left hand, holding up his index finger, and disagreeing with himself.

”...but at least we have a hell of an exciting Internet Champion, right?”

He struggles to keep himself from laughing, and for the most part hangs onto his straight face. The sarcastic statement is followed by the same clicking sound, and same disappointment as he corrects the narrative.

”No, that’s right, that guy quit too, or maybe they were the same guy. I don’t know. I wasn’t out there when it happened. But rest assured, James Tuscini will be every bit as good repping the whole internet. This is a guy two claims to fame are being Dmitri’s partner in crime, and having a title reign that I am about to break. He couldn’t beat me, no matter how many different ways he tried, so they moved him to a different title. I guess that kind of takes away any reason to celebrate him, right? After all, he had title opportunities in back-to-back weeks against hacks. Once Dmitri and Harris were out of the equation, we gave it to the least worst loser. He should be damn proud though.”

Kris opens his mouth, wanting to move on, but feeling like he has left a very important group out of the conversation.

”With those two as champions, and me not being utilized, I guess we could try to sell The Bad Boys as the guys running the place. The problem is, they started as a joke that nobody really cared for, and haven’t changed. Even worse, from the moment The Black Sheep got named contenders, The Male Mean Girls have done nothing but clam up, and bomb matches. That doesn’t make for a flattering portrait of people that are supposed to be champions.”

He reaches down, taking a handful of sand, and then letting it run through his fingers while he composes his thoughts.

”All this focus on all these less interesting people, and all the while, the best talent on the whole roster is just slipping through your fingers.”

He stays focused on the grains of sand as they fall back to the ground, and then claps his hands together, brushing away what stayed stuck to him.

”Now, I know you are all going to say, ‘but Kris you have a match with Dmitri this week!’ Believe me, I know that I do. That’s not what this is about though. This is about the fact that I have been on a roll that nobody expected, and all of a sudden, someone has decided to slow my momentum a little bit. I haven’t been on the shows. I haven’t been in matches. I don’t even have a contender for my championship at Violent Conduct. Instead we have wasted time on invalidating three different championships while you put me on a shelf to rot with mine.”

Kris shakes his head quickly.

”That’s not going to work for me. The Roulette Championship might be looked down on as the least important in either division, but we all know that’s not the reality of it. It takes a talent that most people don’t have to hang onto my title. It takes endurance, and a willingness to suffer. It means being disregarded. It means being overlooked. Sometimes, it even means giving up more prestigious prizes in order to carry something that people turn their noses up at.”

He wags his index finger back and forth in front of his chest.

”Make no mistake though, I’m carrying my championship because I want to. I begged to be put in this spot. I wanted to be part of the Roulette division. I wanted to fix my failures from years ago, and I am doing so every day. I don’t have to chase titles in main event cluster fucks. I don’t have to waste fifteen minutes of everyone’s time acting angry on Climax Control without having the common decency to show up. I don’t have to beat people to death with statistics nobody has ever, or will ever, care about. Better yet, even with as many as I make, I am far from the joke that our tag team champions made themselves. The best thing about all of it though?”

He sits up on the hammock, his face coming center frame to the camera.

”Every single one of you out there knows every word I’m saying is true. There’s nobody that compares right now. Someone should probably let the people booking the matches know that. They put Steve Ramone in two more title matches this month instead of finding me a contender for the Roulette Championship.”

He smiles, reaching out to the camera.

”No really…. They did.”

With a wink, the camera shuts off and the feed dies.



========================================
========================================



Dr. E.G. Halliwell’s Office
9 August 2017
2:51pm PDT
San Diego, CA
OFF-Camera

This time Kris is laying on the couch on the back wall of the office. It is angled so that when you are laying on it, you are at a slight incline. However, always needing to defy the rules, Kris has chosen lay the opposite direction, his legs up over the raised end while his head is at the bottom, and lowest point. They had been at this for almost an hour, and both were starting to become annoyed with one another.

Kris: “I don’t know. Some days I think it is awesome and other days I just want to say fuck it and bail.”

E.G. rolls her eyes, and does not try to hide the heavy sigh that comes from her as he rephrases the same answer for what had to be the hundredth time this afternoon. Finally, she has had enough of it.

E.G.: “Why do you do that? Why do you have to hyper critique something until it has weakness, even where weakness does not exist? You need to poke holes in things is borderline obsessive. Remember when you made a big deal about being nice to absolutely everyone for an entire day? You counted down the seconds and then unloaded a whole day worth of angry tweets. You could not let it go. Do you not see the problem with that?”

Her words cause him to bring his hands up to his face, covering his eyes so that she cannot see and take offense to him rolling them.

Kris: “What does this even have to do with that?”

She sits up in her chair and puts the legal pad on the desk, before standing from her chair. She walks over to him, and looks down into his eyes.

E.G.: “Your father did not kick you out, ignore you, lie to you, deny you, or demean you. You two had a real conversation like real adults, got to know each other for a few days, and now you want me to pat you on the back and say job well done.”

He smiles, and she knew what was going to come out of his mouth before he even said it.

Kris: “I mean I did do exactly what you told me to.”

It was that kind of misinterpretation of her words that led parts of her to despise him. Everything she said was subject to the slightest twist and repackaging before he tossed it back at her.

E.G.: “I told you to meet him, see if he was a good person, and then get to know him. Get to see how much of him you see in yourself. Think about how you have blamed all of your flaws on the man that was not actually your father. Consider how long you told everyone you were genetically predisposed to being a douchebag. I suggested that you get to know him, so that you could learn more about yourself. Not so that I would praise you. That’s not how things work. You have a wife for that.”

He immediately turns his head away to break the eye contact she had lured him into. She had a way of looking deep inside of him if she could hold his eyes on her own.

Kris: “We are separated still. Just because we are not bickering and screaming at each other, doesn’t mean things are perfect. We have a lot of stuff left to do before we can really even think about moving forward. She has her music now. That is what is important for her. I want her to be able to do something where she does not attach the value to me.”

E.G. smiles widely, and proudly. As difficult as he was being on other subjects, she got enough information from her Skype sessions with Heather to know things were going well. The fact that he was being protective of it meant that all of his feelings for her were still there. It was sweet to see. She could not allow herself to get derailed on it though, or else the conversation would quickly become anything but professional.

E.G.: “What about you? Heather is putting on shows and releasing an album to work on her own feelings of self-worth. What are you doing to take credit for something positive?”

He smirks, but the smile shrinks off of her face and she shakes her head disapprovingly before he can even get a word out.

E.G.: “If I wanted a Kris Halc answer I would watch that company you work for.”

The scowl she gets gives her all the information she wanted to know about how sore the situation was with Kris’ brother. It was one of the things that she was not possible that he would set straight for himself. In so many areas her was progressing, but that topic was destined to go untouched.

Kris: “I am thinking about asking Holden to do a benefit just on our own. A few of the restaurants that used to hang my stuff around here have been asking about new stuff. I mean it has been two and a half years. I was thinking I could get them all together at an auction and give all that money to something worthwhile. Something like I did with the clinic. A little piece of me that I can give out and hope people feel good about it.”

It was a beauty pagent level answer, but the way he said it made it come across believable. She had seen firsthand that he enjoyed his other endeavors just as much as what he did in the ring. It did bring up an interesting question though.

E.G.: “Do you ever wonder why you feel the need to be so mean in front of a camera, but go out of your way to be the opposite in ways that most people will never talk about?”

He shrugs, closing his eyes and lacing his fingers behind his head to act as a pillow.

Kris: “I thought that was your job. You’re getting all of my money to tell me why I do things, right?”

With his eyes closed, and his defenses down, she reaches out and lightly taps his cheek with her palm.

E.G.: “Maybe one day I will tell you what I really think, but as of now, time’s up.”

His eyes immediately open wide, not at all offended by the playful smack, but the fact that she was throwing him out.

Kris: “How am I ever supposed to figure myself out with time limits like these?”

She leaves his side, moving back to her desk to write him out a reminder card for their next appointment.

E.G.: “You don’t need me for that. You have a whole roster worth of people to compare yourself to and contrast yourself against. Maybe you just need to put in some of your own legwork for once in your life instead of waiting for the answer to fall in your lap.”

He spins around, sitting up on the couch and planting his feet to the floor just as she turns to hand him the card.

Kris: “Why would I want to compare myself to people that I am better than?”

He takes the card, but she does not let go of the end. She waits to give him his homework until after he looks up confused.

E.G.: “Try it. Let me know how it goes.”


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========================================



"Comparisons”
ON-Camera

”I died once...”

It was a strange statement to start off with. As the video starts, we see Kris sitting on top of a turnbuckle. The area around him is black, so there is no telling where this ring that he sits in actually resides. A single light above the center of the ring showers his lower body in light, but shades his face. In the middle of the frame, catching the most light, is the Roulette Championship around his waist.

”I don’t say that to scare any of you. I don’t say it to make myself seem tough, or rough around the edges. I don’t say it because I think it makes me a badass. I don’t say it because I think it gives me an advantage. I say it, because it is the truth. Love me, hate me, like me a little, or feel totally indifferently about me if you want, but there is one thing that I never do, and that is outright lie. There is no need. A lie will not get someone heated on social media. A misleading comment will get more eyerolls than genuine interest. I tell the truth, because the truth is more fun to tell. In the land of sensitive wrestlers with easily hurt feelings, that makes me a bad guy. However, I don’t bring up the fact that I was very dead at one point in my life, because I am a bad guy either.”

He holds out his right hand, his palm facing up towards the ceiling.

”On one hand, we have Dmitri. A guy that will tell you that he is centuries old. A guy that enjoys the fact that he is one of the most frightening bastards on this roster. He will talk about how being more than human, better than human, gives him so advantage. He is older, wiser, stronger, more experienced, and literally engineered to take people apart. Even better for him than being made for this kind of work is the fact that the guy actually enjoys it.”

As he finishes, he holds out his left hand next to his right, focusing his attention on it now.

”On the other hand, you have me. I’m just a normal guy. I had parents that could have done a better job. I have a relationship where everyone is just a little too stubborn. I have kids that make me hate leaving my house. I have two bosses that only signed me to a year long contract to avoid the fallout of me breaking a big one. I have a whole roster of people taking bets when my next relapse will be. I’m not the most physically imposing, or the most agile, or the most highly trained. I’m giving up some significant size to Dmitri, and I have done everything in my power to piss the guy off this week. After all, I am the Patron Saint of Discord. I have to learn up to that name somehow, and winning ‘Favorite Tweeter’ awards from a middle-of-the-road internet journalist is just not going to cut it. I’m the Human Yellow Starburst, because anyone trying to chew me up is bound to find the flavor disappointing. ”

He lowers his left hand just a little, raising the right, and turning his attention back to it.

”...but Dmitri is next level. This is a guy that lived a life, and had that life end, all before he became what he is today. Everything that we see is totally different from the person that he was then, right? That is essentially the same story told in every trashy vampire romance novel, shitty movie for teenage girls, and even the terrifying vampires from the black and white days. People tend to focus less on that fact, and more on the easy puns when they are facing Dmitri. That is a shame. In doing so, you miss the important stuff. Sure, calling myself a Human Garlic Clove going to get a few laughs. Doing a bit on Twitter where I was bargain shopping for wooden stakes was good for a chuckle. That’s not substance though, and it’s the substance that is important. It is the substance that makes all of the difference in the world.”

He lowers the hand again, tilting his head back towards his left, and allowing a smirk to come across his face.

”...but here I am. I am a guy that came from nothing, spent my life doing nothing, and, at one point, died a nothing. My spectacular reemergence into this world was not because of some pointy teeth, but modern medicine. I spent five minutes in the afterlife, and came back a better man for it. I stopped with the self-pity. I turned my career around. I finally captured the championship that had always eluded me. I haven’t been pinned since coming back. Even more important than all of that, I had kids, and got married. My death is different from Dmitri’s, because when I came back, I wasn’t the same sad sack with a bunch of new flashy tricks to pass the time.”

He leans forward, allowing his face to come into the light for the first time. His eyes are still covered in shadows, but his chin, lips, nose, and cheekbones find the light. Against he shifts his focus to his right hand.

”Did you all hear him during Climax Control last week? Better yet, did you feel his frustration? Could you tell how many times he has failed in all of the hundreds of years he will bore you with stories from? Maybe his glorious transformation wasn’t as glorious as it seems on paper. Maybe it isn’t as glamorous as I made it sound from the start. Maybe, just maybe, his whole state of being more than mortal simply amplified the person he was beforehand. That would have been a huge positive, if he wasn’t a boring, try-hard, that always seems to come up just a few inches short of what he wants.”

He pauses, looking down quickly, allowing one short, controlled laugh before cutting himself off. His head cocks back to the other side, now excited about each of the comparisons.

”Yet, when you break a person completely, it is amazing to see what they build on their way back up. A bite mark, or shared blood, or demonic whimsy, didn’t make me the person that I am today. Years of having little pieces stripped away from me until I decided that enough was enough is what made me the person I am today. I died, because I was so broken there was no coming back, not for that person. The person that I was when I woke up, was recognizable in a mirror, but not many other places. I went from the guy jumping people in alleys, to the guy being jumped. I went from living in a storage unit, to owning a house. I went from being a chump, and a punchline, to being unstoppable. You know how I did it? Willpower. Not being a bitch. Being really, really good at what I say, and what I do. One of my best friends gave me something to read to reflect on that whole time in my life, and a quote that stuck out from it comes to mind. ‘I understood myself only after I destroyed myself. And only in the process of fixing myself, did I know who I really was.’ Truer words cannot be spoken about what happened to me. The change that I went through fundamentally altered the person that I am, and will be for the rest of my life. ”

He drops his hands and reaches around his back to pull the strap on the Roulette Championship, freeing it. He holds it in both of his hands, in front of his chest.

”I tried against Equinox and failed twice. I tried to fight my way back into contention, and someone whose name I don’t remember anymore stopped me. The championship that I wanted from the moment I first signed in this company was always a lost cause to me. Then I went through this experience, this change, and I took some time away. When I was ready to come back, and I felt whole again, there was nothing that I could not do. I have done everything I have set out to do since I came back. I said no to the main event. I held the tag titles. I finally grabbed hold of the Roulette Championship and am going to hang onto it until I finally beat Equinox by erasing his record and replacing it with my own. Then, and only then, am I going to stake my claim to take the top prize of this company from whoever dares to hold it. If the last year has been any indication, I shouldn’t have too rough of a time.”

He drapes it across his lap so that it appears as little more than a thin line to the camera, its faceplates hidden from the light when he leans forward.

”Dmitri came up short against J2H how many times? How many times did he reach for the stars, and find himself plummeting back to Earth empty handed? How many times did he bounce back and forth between the tag team division and chasing singles titles? In how many of these divisions has he found success? All I see is a long line of failures. Then again, I have only been around for a short while. If that line is already long in my experience, I can only imagine what the last several hundred years have been like. It almost makes me pity him. It must be a miserable existence to have so much power, but lack the talent to make good use of it. It must be defeating to constantly be told that you were almost good enough.”

He holds both of his palms up, shrugging in exaggerated fashion.

”I heard all of those things, and experienced even worse. It broke me, but the person assembled from the pieces was someone worth spending your time on. I’m not sure anything that Dmitri has ever experienced has really broken him. I don’t know if he has had his fill of failure yet. If it has really been nothing but near misses for his entire life, perhaps there is nothing that can make him snap. I guess it is possible that he will just be a failure forever. After all, the less talented member of his tag team, holds a championship right now. Where is Dmitri? Finding himself lucky to be given the main event of Violent Conduct, and about to get his ass beaten by the Roulette Champion.”

This time he cannot stop the laugh from flowing from him and breaking his rhythm.

”A vampire that can’t win under pressure challenges the biggest success currently employed by Sin City Wrestling. If every reason that I have given you until now weren’t enough, think for a moment about what is going to happen just before this match gets underway. Dmitri is going to walk in knowing we are having a match, but not knowing what to expect. I get to walk into a match decided by my wheel, based around my championship. The vampire is not just showing up to fight me. He is showing up to fight me, in a situation that I have engineered from the moment that the card was announced. He is fighting me in a match that is going to level the playing field between poor, addict Kris, and big, bad bloodsucker.”.

He hops down off of the turnbuckle, the light hitting his full face for the first time in the video. His eyes are cold, and the smirk on his lips is cruel. He steps up to the camera and raises the title up next to his face, filling the frame.

”Here’s to hoping the wheel says you have to stake your opponent and piss on the ashes to win.”

With that, he pushes the camera backwards, and as it falls, the feed cuts off..