[Mark Ward]

 Post all roleplays for this match here.

Limits: 1 RP per week, 10,000 words max.

Good luck!

[DistortedAngel]

 Quick Note Reader: This is a parody/fantasy piece. Likeness used with permission I've done a couple before similar to this so it is a little different from my usual style but I hope you enjoy it all the same




“Why do people assume? If I hate you, I'll tell you. In this case, it's not hate. It's hurt. I'll lick my wounds, which only oozed because I gave a damn, and be over it before the sun rises.”
― Donna Lynn Hope




Prologue:

“I wanna tell you a story…

Just like every good story there is good and evil, the righteous and the immoral clashing in a proverbial joust of ethics. Philosophical lances crashing through the flimsy armour of the arguments each bears so proudly as though theirs is the only one with any legitimacy.
However unlike most stories your mother might have told you, should she have loved you enough to tuck you in before having it on with the maintenance guy three apartments along, these roles are subjective. They are undefined, fluid and open to interpretation- because in anything tat holds worth in this world, opinion rules all.

I won’t tell you who to cheer and boo, only that you should do either at your own peril. After all, the righteous can only be so because they have continually designated something as opposition, and the immoral are more often than not justified in their heinous actions.
No, I’m merely a guide on this choose your own adventure- your choices don’t affect the outcome by any means, however they may change the way you perceive not only the world, but those you surround yourself with in it.

So who the fuck am I…

I’m no protagonist, and to place any kind of stakes in me is to fall upon the first hurdle. I’m no hero in spite of my best efforts- no, that role belongs to someone else far more qualified than I, or so i thought when this all began. Nor could I be considered the antagonist, a villain lurking in the shadows with long fingers and hooked nose hatching a devious plan- many would like to paint me as such, but that negates a far more painful truth.
I’m simply a harbinger of chaos, for where I walk lies a path of absurdity and ruin.

You see, where I’m from my name stands as a legacy painted in the deepest shades of scarlet, the things I’ve brought to pass serving as warnings to the willful and campfire tales in under collapsing bridges. My name is the graffiti on the subway walls that never fades, the scars that don’t quite heal over and the monster that fuels a child's bedtime fears. No one ever really remembers me until I’ve cut through them and all they can wonder aloud is where all that blood is coming from before they’re just another notch in my belt…

Fuck, soon I might need a new belt.

Maybe who I am will be irrelevant before these words ever reach another. Sin City sending another bright spark supernova before the door has even closed behind them, that all of this will be lost among the rest of the tomes written about people like me cause the digital age moves far faster than we are able to document.
Maybe all this will simply end up as another false memory in the mind of an Alzheimer's patient as their insides scream cause they’ve finally forgotten how to breathe.

For the sake of a good story though, you can just call me Red.”



******




Part 1: The Color Red



Carnage Heights
Sin City
30.05.2020
9:13pm



It could have been so easy.

With legs dangling over the edge of the apartment building she’d recently come to call home, all she had to do was let herself go. Couldn’t have been more than seven storeys she imagined, hell if she caught a balcony at just the right angle on the way down she might not even notice the landing.
Clean up admittedly might have been a bit messy, but by that point it’d no longer be her problem, just another nameless nobody leaving their face on the pavement for some other poor bastard to pressure wash down the gutter.

Typical lazy millennials, right?

Her fingertips scraped the edge of the building, searching for purchase. Her fingernails were bitten low and raw- there were no diamonds on her fingers, only swollen knuckles bruised and bloodied from another night of fighting over what felt like nothing of importance.
Fighting simply for the sake of doing so, as proof to another desperate no one in particular that your brand of emptiness meant more than theirs- this was supposed to be a place for new beginnings, but man did old habits refuse to die quietly.

Thick tresses of crimson tumbled around her shoulders messily, occasionally getting caught in a cold gusting breeze while her oversized hoodie only served to make her lithe figure obscured and indistinct. She’d promised herself this time would be different and the lie came easier than she expected, days in though and already those voices were creeping back in, those itches flaring up just below her skin. Fight after fight with the only way seemingly out was with her last exhalation of breath, as though there were ever any other option.
After all, it wasn’t as though she’d died a thousand times before now… what was one more to add to the tally?

Yeah, she could do it now. No one would even care- few knew who she was… what she was, what baggage she carried like Atlas bearing the world upon his shoulders, the places she’d left in ruins simply because nature couldn’t be overcome with sheer brute force.
Sin City wasn’t supposed to be this cold in summer, she mused distractedly, watching those beneath trace around like ants looking for purpose but finding death and taxes instead- maybe that's what bothered her the most about this place already.

They just wanted to be ‘good people’. What an absolute load of… well, not everyone. Just enough to make up a full cast with back up roles filled beyond requirement, each of them buying into a narrative of contentment and moral wholesomeness in hopes that it might somehow make their eventual grave a little less desolate.
So many were determined to buy into the sick pantomime, desperate puppets feigning happiness while scissors snake menacingly between their strings. Red had been determined to try to fit in with these principled citizens- hell, she’d have been willing to seperate her vertebrae one by one if it mean she could be seen as a little more ‘upstanding’.

Even before she had started though, it felt like she’d already placed every step wrong.

She couldn’t feign the lack of substance behind their eyes, the insincerity of their friendly waves as they passed on the street and those forced greetings of small talk that made her want to eat her own frontal lobe just to make everything a little more comprehensible.
All glitter and garish neon on the surface and an empty tunnelling nowhere underneath. Just model citizens pulled off a production line, customizable on the surface but determinedly blank slates everywhere else that might have mattered.

It was all a carefully choreographed dance for those determined enough to want to be perceived as just like everyone else- and Red had untied shoelaces and two left feet. She’d tried to color within the lines but her indistinct watercolors didn’t quite mix with their acrylic Jackson Pollocks, she’d tripped and fallen more times than she’d cared to count… She remembered the way they flocked when she skinned a knee, whipped into a goddamn frenzy when they smelled blood and exhaust fumes- not because any of them cared, but because you damn sure weren’t supposed to bleed on the fucking pavement.

Red itched for a cigarette, however her last pack was back in the apartment downstairs and the building manager was patrolling the corridors, thoroughly back on his bullshit. Instead, she had to settle for idly scratching at some paint peeling away from the buildings poorly maintained facade.
Another heavy blow to the establishment and all that.
She could do it, take down as many of those ‘good people’ as she could with her for the effort- wondering if the rest of them would squirm as they tried to maintain their veneer of self-righteousness while managing to do nothing more than complain, as they stepped over the worst of the splatter on their way to another unnecessary meeting.

Love. Pride. A sense of self-worth. A sense that the world cared whether she was around. A determination to truly be better. It could have been any one of those things that brought Red back from that edge with a knowingly half smile- but it wasn’t…
It was something that sparked a crooked little in the glimmer of those blue-green eyes, something that had been there for her far longer than any person ever could, something that kept her alive a thousand times over when the world flagrantly proclaimed that she might just be better off dead.

Something that no one could ever take from her, even in a dying breath.

Spite.



******


“This is where it all begins… with a hero.

A perfect, morally incorruptible, ethically untainted hero.

A classic and timeless trope in our storytelling venture, the all conquering  and all knowing, the be-all-end-all that man and mythos are so delightfully enamoured with the idea of.

What a fucking joke.

You see, by nature man cannot simply do no wrong. It is built into us to be imperfect, to be flawed and at fault but in our stories that can’t possibly be the case can it? How can they save the day if the only thing they have to overcome is their own crippling insecurities, who can save the princess from the tower if they cannot drag themselves from their bed cause they’re just feeling rather flat.
No, heroes by nature cannot be flawed. They cannot be anything less than utmost excellence cause our society relies on this, they buy in whole heartedly under the illusion that maybe they themselves can overcome their nature and be that person who slays princesses and kisses dragons.

They don’t make mistakes like us, they don’t suffer consequences cause in fairytales those only exist to punish the anticipated wicked and immoral.

Yet in this place, everyone tells me there's a hero and all I wanna do is prove that they are no better than I am.

Revered as a demi-god but flesh and bone as we might be ourselves, this hero is given absolute and consequence free judgement over all simply because their moral compass happens to be a little less cracked than the rest of ours. Supposed decency being used as currency between those bereft of it and those wielding it as a weapon to bring everyone else down a peg, cause you know that pedestal doesn't look nearly quite as impressive when everyone else isn’t driven into the ground around it.
Selflessly selfish and celebrated simply for being something the rest of us are working on, the world is so busy adoring and admiring the glow the Hero casts to take a breath and realize that there’s nothing more than a dumpster fire at it's centre.

I won’t sit here and pretend like I didn’t want to be just like that. There was a part of me for a long time that wanted admiration and devotion, to be acknowledged as more than just a nuisance and more trouble than I was worth.
Heroes don’t let you forget that about yourself though, see that's the problem isn’t it… The more people on their level, the less special they seem, so they dull everyone with unrealistic expectations so that their light might shine that little brighter for a little longer. Leopards and their spots right? You can’t change who you are- you can’t be anyone else than who you’ve already been like somehow our mistakes make us incapable of redemption.

I tried to change those spots though, I helped little old ladies out of the way of car pile ups and saved kittens from forest fires in the middle of the cityscape- but the Hero, they look at someone like me and they don’t see the stitches of good intentions keeping me together, but the flawed and broken pieces they hold.
I did my damndest and get rebuked at every turn- I wanted to be that person so fucking badly that I was willing to change everything about who I was, came to a new place for a new start and got told it can’t happen cause you’re a liability. A loose cannon. A monster peeking from between the poorly sewn stitches of a human suit.

Eventually I started hating who I was, who trying to be this good person was making me… I wasn’t getting better, I was getting worse. More toxic from the inside out. I hated the person I was becoming even more than the one staring back in the mirror at me now.
Vague. Nebulous. Indecisive. Empty. Finite.
I guess I’d rather be among the dregs, the undesirables and the nefarious cause at least when they smile at me, I don’t feel hollow and empty as though I’m staring into a spiritual black hole.

That's not to say I wouldn’t change the things I’d done given the chance- but then on those nights when the booze didn’t quite sink deep enough to dull my last nerve and the cigarettes were running low, but I couldn’t get to the corner store cause the streets were bleeding again…

All I could do was wish I had done far more.”[/i]


******



Part 2: Keys To The Kingdom


Downtown
Sin City
21.06.2020
4:37pm



“Ah fuck”]

Red hadn’t quite realized that she’d stepped straight into the gutter, gurgling and murky, until her socks had become uncomfortably damp inside her worn out converses. Distractedly enthralled and disgusted in less than equal measures, her outburst drew furtive glances from some of the closest gathered crowd. None of them, much to Red’s disappointment, had mustered the fortitude to say thing instead choosing to glower in her general vicinity as though that might have more of an effect than just making them look kinda stupid.

With an annoyed scowl of her own, more to due the incessant squelching noise now emanating from shoes than anything else, she slipped between a pair of particularly loud middle aged aren’s debating whos angled bob brought more terror to the hearts of innocent retail managers towards a hastily built stage- as though the city needed yet another reminder about the temporary nature of all this pomp and circumstance.

Upon it, and pacing as though his jarring movements didn’t just induce a case of motion sickness to a stationary crowd, was one of the many social climbers probably looking for public support on a project projected as more farce than fact.
Wealthy beyond reasonable measure, he appeared to be late 50’s and aging far worse despite the obvious plastic surgeries trying to defy the rigors of gravity, age and a career in politics. Manicured eyebrows seemed permanently fixed in a constant state of partial surprise, while the harsh curl of his lip suggested unnatural means of keeping a hundred thousand dollar smile- cause you know those lawsuits get costly after awhile- set at its widest and most welcoming.

Nose job. Eye lift. Lip fillers. Cheekbone shaving. Fuck, Red was almost sure that Steve Jobs himself might have been able to build an early computer from the amount of silicon the speaker on stage had accumulated in his face alone.
Vanity couldn’t save his hairline though, despite it's best attempts to remain straight in a chilling, disruptive breeze snaking between the legs of a populous still determined to wear shorts and overly revealing skirts, as the poorly secured toupee shifted askew. Nor could the tailors disguise the way his lavish champagne lifestyle had piled up around his midsection- at least for now it seemed.

Red couldn’t recall his name, maybe she’d seen it plastered all over a digital billboard or written in vulgar neon- he was heavy into property and heavier into young, blonde secretaries with ambitions far out-weighing their standards in the face of the mighty dollar. Prettier than smart, perfect eye candy provided they didn’t try to nag like any of the four wives he’d kept in the lap of luxury in exchange for their time turning a blind eye to his fluctuating whimsies.

Talking into a microphone that no one had informed him wasn’t actually plugged in, the tinny whine of his voice straining to carry over any kind of distance, the crowd interest in his speech only seemed to extend as far as his proclamations might disseminate. Few outside of that limited range seemed to care much for the spectacle, simply finding it as something to do, boredom and agitation spreading like wildfire among the burgeoning crowd.

Orating over-loudly, he spoke as though the city were some utopia or oasis in a world that no longer believed these things to be viable, as though the bleak and oppressive cityscape wasn’t splashed with more shades of grey than even E.L James could imagine or that the unseasonal chill in the air, filtered through steel and concrete, wasn’t viscose and suffocating among the masses.
Somehow this was supposed to be meaningful and uplifting but he’d only succeeded in alienating an already disinterested crowd.

“... whose morality and ethical fortitude is a beacon of hope for the rest of us.”

Occasions like this were supposed to be weighty and significant, yet somehow his words felt trivial and demeaning. Maybe it would have been preferable to simply retire back to her shitty fifth floor apartment, she could curl up on the couch and pretend the place had heating while watching the ceiling corner growth of mould flourish undisturbed- watching on TV as news reporters gushed over the craftsmanship of the speakers suit as though it hadn’t had to go up three sizes in the past two months instead of dissecting how a man could take something so important and make everyone care significantly less.

“... without people like her, our wonderful city would surely fall into chaos and ruin…”

He referred to a woman to call her beautiful would be an understatement, a certain regality and grace in her movements suggested she’d done all this a thousand times before but her faint grimace subtly expressed that she still had the humility to hate it. Red had heard the term the name Hero tossed around, mostly followed by effusive praise, described as one with a moral superiority and exclusive rights towards enforcement and judgement over the populous.
All the cliches and platitudes would follow, everyone had a story they’d heard from a friend of a friends uncle about something the Hero did… All of them following a similar trajectory as though recycled from past experiences and anecdotes, never once heard from the person who had actually witnessed anything for themselves though.

“... it is with great honor and gratitude that I am able to present the key to the city…”

It was all symbolic, a show of histrionics and good faith. Everyone loved a good Hero, they loved them humble and gracious yet confident and willing to own a space when required as though they weren’t simply a walking oxymoronic cluster of demands from a society unable to deliver in any other way.
Cameras flashed on cue as the speaker took the Hero’s hand into a forceful handshake as though trying to express bravado and equality in a space where he was woefully outclassed. Blinding and harsh, even Red had trouble making out more than the Hero’s grandiose silhouette for a moment until everyone had done a thorough enough job wrecking everyone else's opportunity for a front page snap.

Red didn’t move as the crowd began to dissipate around her, embittered murmurs permeated by cheers and applause from the more raucous- in the meantime the Hero had continued to engage in some contrived small talk with the speaker, who had only now reluctantly released the Hero’s hand from his grasp. Like he might have been posing for a terrible caricature no one really wanted to draw, the speaker laughed riotously at something that likely wasn’t that funny, head thrown back as though someone might have snapped his neck should the city have been so lucky.

Something about all this- the dramatization of something so very banal and utterly trite and the overt need for public validation left Red feeling nauseous in a way she hadn’t expected, although she imagined the vortex of people headed nowhere swirling around her probably didn’t help much.
Drowning in the spaces between people, it was as though the expanse of the universe was spreading out between Red and the Hero despite the fact they were both standing still, the stoppage of all time and space as though a vacuum simply consumed them.

While the Hero seemed perfectly at home in this social chaos, Red was falling without ever leaving her feet.

In the briefest moment, in the time it might take for an eyelash to hit the floor- their eyes locked and everything rippled with an unseen electricity as the Hero mouthed five words that sent the pit of Red’s stomach straight through the fucking bitumen, her heart somehow falling from a hole burned through  chest by a Hero’s stare and flailing weakly on the floor waiting to be promptly stomped on.
A microcosm of everything and nothing that left Red more disillusioned than she ever could have imagined.

“I know what you are.”





******


“She looked just like me.

Pulled from a mirror and forced to walk among the world- or maybe I’m the cursed one, told to act normal in a place that I just don’t belong in.

I looked at her and I saw myself, and I couldn’t stand it. There she was, just standing there like she didn’t feel the same way, pretending like she wasn’t just a carbon copy who found an easier way to colour between the societal lines.
She walked like me, talked like me- hell I’d be willing to bet damn good money that she probably ate, shit and fucked like me too, but those things aren’t what really got to me.

What bothered me was looking at my reflection being venerated and celebrated for being ‘a good person’ and realizing I was the only damn person who saw something different, that the Hero wasn’t this deity of righteousness and dignity… She was just like the rest of us, and no one seemed to care that this was all just a fucking lie.

I’d rather have been tasered in that moment cause at least it would have made me feel something other than last night's whiskey and bile trying to tickle the back of my tonsils.
.
What I’d been asking myself most of all was- what did it truly mean to be a good person, under what criteria could someone be determined that way…
I mean I hadn’t killed anyone for at least a month maybe so did it make me worthy of city wide adoration?
I had refrained from sniffing lines of coke out of the asshole of a stripper so did that mean I was entitled to a gold sticker next to my name?
I didn’t punt the head of the neighbours crotch gremlin cause he took a dump on my doorstep again- so where in god's name was my ticker tape parade?

God my Mama would have been so proud, bless her ever-lasting soul.

Telling someone they were a good person was like offering them an ice cream cone after you licked all the best parts off- they have no choice but to be appreciative of the gift despite it's backhanded nature or otherwise renounce the title bequeathed.
Yet here we were… celebrating the greatest form of mediocrity known to man, the societal participation award for being slightly less shitty than the rest of us. That was what we were told to look up to, our youth to idolize and our nostalgia to misremember fondly.
Aim just a little higher than average, exceed the lowest of expectations cause clearly the rest of us weren’t capable of such things, the rest of us incapable of bettering ourselves in spite of past misgivings. Be better than who you were, but not enough that you can’t be buried beneath all your dirty laundry and skeletons playing checkers in your closet.

After all, heroes couldn’t possibly exist if they didn’t have anyone to be better than.

Wasn’t that the basis of their very existence?

If everyone did their good deed for the day, there might be no evil left in the world but then the world would fall into chaos cause heroes need something to oppose, despite their efforts to eradicate threats to the status quo- they would never succeed cause in doing so would have made them obsolete.
It's why people like me- chaotic neutrals, misfits and miscreants who just wanted to see how the world worked by pulling it apart, still existed in pockets of humanity where the light didn’t quite reach and our mothers didn’t hug us enough.

This supposed Hero, they could have single handedly wiped from this place every piece of shit human being who tried to atone for their sins and only found that it created more, every terrible judge of character who stepped from the footpath in search of something more than just what they were told they were supposed to be and every person who proudly owned their mistakes and were told to burn for their lies cause there was no pride to be had in being flawed.

I learned a long time ago that it took far less effort to look down than up, that gravity favoured those with the moral high ground and it was far easier to drive someone into the ground when the world already thought that you stood above them.
People needed something to believe in, that's was truest purpose of the hero today, to give people something to sink their teeth into cause reality was just the fucking worst. They wanted to know something better existed, even if they have to make it themselves, even if it wasn’t real.

That's the thing though- you tell someone who they are for long enough and eventually they begin to believe it.

Tell someone for years that they are simply the best person who ever existed, that everyone adores them and that they simply can do no wrong… They start to buy into it themselves, if only on a subconscious level, they start believing their hype and so you create a vicious cycle of validation and desperation to stay on that same level.
Belittle someone, tell them for years that they’re better off dead, that they have no place in a world they helped build with every shitty decision they’ve made, tell them that everything they’ve done to this point was a mistake and it makes them a god awful person with no hope of redemption despite their best efforts.

Tell someone for long enough that everything they’ve done makes them a monster…

You should no longer be surprised when they finally embrace being one.”



******



Part 3: Nature Of The Beast


Carnage Heights
Sin City
05.07.2020
3:08am



“Why are you doing this?!?”

Red never expected to be having a verbal discourse on philosophy and reason with a man dangling rather precariously from a rooftop edge, while he desperately sunk his fingernails into the flesh of her forearm.
New gouges bubbled with globules of red while her lip curled into something resembling a vague disgust at the discoloured and jagged edges like broken rats teeth scraping through her skin, new gashes forming beside those that had began to heal- their raw and angry edges straining to remain closed as gravity and desperation threatened to pull them asunder.

She could hear the toecaps of worn out sneakers scrambling against crumbling brickwork searching for a foothold that didn’t exit, sending a sizeable chunk careening into the alleyway below before shattering on impact with an audible crunch while the noise alone only served to fuel his panicked frenzy further.
Maybe if he didn’t squirm so bloody much, Red contemplated impatiently, then we wouldn’t be having this issue…

“What is it you want… I’ll give you anything, just for god's sake pull me up!”

He reminded her of vermin- angular features tapering into something grimy and guttural, his beady bloodshot eyes betrayed a lack of sleep while the patchy stubble that grew in unevenly around his chin reminded her of the singed edges of a rat's whiskers as they strayed a little too close to a beggars fire. Sunken cheekbones and a badly broken nose left his voice slightly nasally and irritating as he tried to claw against gravity when he was the only one of them making a concerted effort to hold on.

Red had found him in an alley somewhere in Carnage Heights- peddling poor quality false illicits and misinformation, his life worth less than the rats scraping through the dumpsters cause at least their work was honest. People like him didn’t deserve chances, squandered absolutely every fucking opportunity he’d been given- yet here he was pleading that his life now held worth if only because he now realized that it had an expiry date.

Just like all those before him.

Only the next of far too many, as her trail of ruination and bloody footsteps snaked through the depths- knee deep in the worst of society, through the concrete quagmires of a place that didn’t recognize the plights of martyrs.
Perhaps in a place like this- Red could have been considered a hero, a paragon of limited virtue or a nihilistic archetype…

“What I want… Now that's a damn good question. What I want is a cup of coffee that I don’t need to take a mortgage out to afford, what I want is eight hours of sleep without waking up and checking that I’m not imaging my own pulse… What I want, and judging by the job you’re doing on my forearms, is a rabies shot for good measure…”

Lowering her face closer to his she could practically smell the methylated spirits on his breath, while watching the way his thin lips seemed to peel back through mumbled heavy, frenetic breaths.

“... What I really, really want though…”

Measured and barely above a hiss, the words almost fell from her lips as though each one tasted like poison to speak.

“... is for you to beg for a hero to save you.”

“Please you don’t have to do this”

“... Beg.”

“I promise I’ll change- ”

“I SAID BEG!”

There were always promises but his despondant pleas died in a whimper as her scathing outburst of frustration echoed vehemently, she could make out mumbled words- a constant ooze of sound resembling something pathetically remorseful, begging quietly under his breath as though now were the perfect moment to atone for all the things he’d done till now.
Like any of it really made a difference and this was his acceptance of fate- many of the others did the same, their previously vocal appeals and arguments failing into something resembling a scared childs mewling in the face of real consequence.

Others though, others sang like birds… like pigeons shitting all over everything, their begging efforts overdramatic and bordering on lewd in an inadequate attempt to be heard by anyone other than the stone deaf apathetic redhead.
They’d plead in the face of everything they’d done, things far worse than Red could comprehend and yet their consequence seemed far less harsh, merciful in a way compared to what their fates rightly should have been- hell, some of them even found religion in their struggle for leniency… Somehow remembering that maybe they believed in something else at one time, something that could save them in the same way they were asking for a hero to save them now.

“... Wanna know a little secret?”

More whimpering, though nothing resembling a definitive answer.

“You have to promise you won’t tell…”

Sickly sweet, her voice dripped like a honeyed venom he’d never appreciate- his hands were reaching the edge of her wrists, digging and clawing at something not designed to hold him.
Each moment somehow lasting a little longer than the last as she draws on a last reservoir of strength, one designed to instill hope as she lifts just enough to bring his face within inches of her own.

However she doesn’t get the words out before his hands fall away, outstretched and clutching for anything solid but finding only cold, thin air. Disenchanted with the anti-climax, Red propped herself onto her knees before picking a shred of yellowed fingernail from one of the bloody gouges in her arm- disgusted and yet bemused all at the same time, as the expected sickening crunch quickly dissipated into the silent evening air.

“... the thing is…”

Distractedly, Red tossed the fingernail shard over the edge after him.

“Heroes…Heroes aren’t actually real.”




******


“I once watched a man help an old lady across the road.

Not because he wanted anything but from the sheer goodness of his heart, he gave her his arm and they toddled across the street making small talk. It was honestly quite the heartwarming sight to see, everyone on the sidewalk around me is watching this happen as though it's this abnormality… and perhaps in a way it was.

Especially when they got the other side and the old lady pushed him out in front of a moving bus.

He ends up smeared 30 feet down the street, his wallet ends up on the curb just beside where he was standing, figure it must have been in his hand or pocket before he got smushed- and this little old lady picks up his wallet, rifles through it, takes everything of value and continues on her merry fucking way.
… and not a damn person did anything about it.

Not one.

See, we’re conditioned all wrong cause we all think that in that situation we’d be the guy helping the little old lady across the street, we’d be doing the good deed and karma gives us a ‘get out of jail free’ card for our efforts. We’d be the ones getting scraped off the bitumen cause karma is a cruel bitch and likes to have a little fun at our mortal expense.
In that moment, we imagine ourselves doing anything in our power to be good when the situation calls for it… When in reality we’re all just the pedestrians going on with the rest of our day pretending like we didn’t stand by and watch someone else be the person we should have…

We aren’t heroes any more than the guy getting super glued back together cause the family insists on an open casket, nor are we any better than the little old lady- just jealous that she happened to think of it first.
What we need to remember in our human absurdity is that nowhere else in nature, do heroes exist… It is a man made and manufactured concept that we have bought so deeply into that it's now subconsciously ingrained in our psyches to recognize it.

Nature doesn’t want heroes though, nature doesn’t want us to act with decency and morality- it wants us to be primal and savage, and while we might have evolved form the most basic form of this, we have never outgrown it. When it comes down to it, like electricity and black tar heroin, it's a mass-produced by-product of us trying to handle something we are woefully unequipped to deal with.
Heroism is in direct contrast to Darwinism, it's a deliberate affront to survival of the fittest in terms of putting yourself in an unsafe situation for the benefit of adoration and belief- it's why heroes have a short life expectancy, not because it's dangerous but because it's in defiance of the natural order.

Heroes create a void, a socio-black hole and nature… Nature abhors a vacuum.

It doesn’t want us to be the best, it doesn’t want us to be shiny beacons of excellence.

Just better. Just better than what we are now- and the concept of the hero stands in direct contrast because heroes need to feel special, they need to be snowflakes otherwise they become obsolete. It's like religion, without belief it has nothing to support it and eventually collapses under the weight of a carefully structured mythos they have created.
Everything they do must be documented, must be publicised and spotlighted or else it has no importance, if people don’t care then there's no point in doing it. That's the curious thing I suppose, they need so badly to be believed in that they’ll create a narrative around that need so it appears organic, that it appears to have simply occured in such a way that they are framed with perfect lighting and an action pose against a sunset.

Fifteen minutes stretched into fifteen years overnight it seems- thriving off an infamy that shouldn’t exist, their legacy built on a foundation of lies and sickening validation. Heroes don’t need churches and stained glass windows depicting their greatest hits, just a legacy in word of mouth and over-exaggeration of events presented in the most rose-tinted flattering light.
Humility and arrogance somehow twisted into something inorganic and deceptively ugly.

We get so swept up in this idea that there is someone out there who is better than us in all the best ways we’re willing to turn the other cheek when they’re less perfect than we imagined, only because it hurts our belief and be damned if we, as flawed imperfect humans, are proven any kind of wrong.
That is, after all, why the interwebs exist.
We’re trained like puppies to believe that we need this, that we need a hero in the same way that they need us- a symbiotic relationship full of gaslighting and emotional blackmail.

I won’t pretend like I didn’t believe, that I desperately wanted to be proven wrong and that everything I thought I saw was simply my paranoia and cynicism coming back to bite me squarely in the ass. I wanted this symbiotic relationship to make me better, cause that's what this is supposed to be… Mutual benefit.
All I got from it was a load-bearing neurosis where if you even touch that fucker, everythings comes down with it. I got a ten thousand volt taser straight into the depths of my sociopathy and most importantly… I got the startling revelation that I was right all along.

… and let me tell you, I really fucking hate being right literally all the time.

Heroes aren’t real, they don’t exist. It's a sycophantic sociological hallucination designed to inflate the importance of the only person who still somehow needs convincing that they’re real.

Heroes don’t exist in nature, but parasites definitely do.

… and no one ever said that parasites couldn’t be pretty.”





End Part #1.

[Roxi Johnson]

 {Our scene opens inside the hospital, where Roxi is in a hospital gown, bandages wrapped over her eyes. We can see burnt hair on her forehead where they stuck from the sweat and the heat from the fireball. There is also a patch on her forehead of discolored skin, more precisely a 1st degree burn. Roxi lays there in obvious discomfort and completely blind, as one of the nurses comes in. Roxi grips the sides of the bed, unaware of who is in the room.}

Nurse – Hello, Mrs. Johnson, my name is Brandy, I’ll be checking on you tonight.

Roxi – Oh, okay. Just… for future reference, can you please identify yourself when you come in all the way? Sorry for being paranoid and all.

Brandy – I understand. You don’t need to be paranoid though, Mrs. Johnson. All of our nurses are the doctors are here to help you, you will be safe.

Roxi – Just… I get a little jumpy is all.

Brandy – I understand, Let’s just take your vitals real quick.

{Brandy the nurse proceeds to take Roxi’s temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate. She looks at the results and nods to herself.}

Brandy – Okay Mrs. Johnson, it looks like everything is normal right now. But since you were exposed to heat and light of that intensity at such a close range, we just want to leave the bandages on for a little bit. Doctor Howard will be in in a little bit to talk to you and give you a more detailed plan.

Roxi – Thank you.

{Brandy reaches down and places the call button for the nurses in Roxi’s hand.}

Brandy – I’ve just given you the call button, if you need anything, just hit the button and we’ll be in when we can.

Roxi – Thank you again. If you have some water, that would be great.

Brandy – Water? Sure.

Roxi – Also, did you say Doctor Howard?

Brandy – Yes.

Roxi – Is there a Doctor Fine who works here too?

Brandy – Ummm.. .no.

{Roxi snaps her fingers.}

Roxi – Dang.

Brandy – Do you know them or something?

{Roxi sighs.}

Roxi – No. It’s a Three Stooges reference.

Brandy – I don’t think I’ve ever seen that.

{Roxi sighs again.}

Roxi – I didn’t think so. I’m just getting old. Don’t mind me.

Brandy – Okay. I’ll be right back with your water.

{Brandy leaves, and Roxi is once again alone in the dark. She simple begins to listen, until the door opens once again. Roxi again grips the sides the bed, and due to sheer instinct, she attempt to see who’s there.}

Roxi – Hello?

Keira – Hi.

Roxi – Keira?

Keira – Mmhmm.

Roxi – Keira, you know you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll heal.

Keira – You should know me better than that by now. I’m never going to leave your side. You’re stuck with me.

Roxi – It’s just going to take some time Keira. I’ll be back on my feet in no time.

Keira – But you’re not now, and it worries me.

Roxi – I know what you’re about to say.

Keira – And?

Roxi – And it’s not your fault. There was no way of knowing what was going to happen.

Keira – I knew not to trust Amber. If I had been there, she wouldn’t have done this.

Roxi – Maybe. But that’s neither here nor there.

Keira – Yes it is!

Roxi – Keira, I told you at the very start of this whole thing, that it was my fight. It’s always been my fight. I know that with everything we’ve been through, everything we faced, we’ve always done it together. I know that. But this time, it has to be different.

Keira – What? So you can end up like this again? No Roxi. I get that you have your honor and your pride. But dammit, I cannot lose you to someone like that.

Roxi – You won’t. We’ve faced far worse than Amber Ryan, and we’re still here. This is just the opening shot in the war.

Keira – It’s the war part I’m worried about.

Roxi – You just have to let me do this. I promise in the end, it will be okay.

Keira – I can’t. I can’t say that, looking at you right now. I don’t know if it will be okay. With everything that’s happened?!

Roxi – There’s nothing we can control right now. But I need you to stay strong. I can’t have you falling apart. You have to be the glue for right now and hold it together. For me.

{Keira sighs and she begins to cry.}

Roxi – I know you’re crying. Please don’t cry. I need you to hold on. Just a little bit longer. We’ll get through this, like we have before.

{Keira sniffles as she wipes away some tears, and there is a knock at the door.}

Brandy – Hi, I’m back with your water. Oh… are you Mrs. Johnson’s –

Keira – Wife.

Brandy – Oh. Well, she’s doing okay. We’re here to help if she needs anything.

Keira – Good.

Roxi – Be nice, Keira.

{Brandy places the bottle of water in Roxi’s hand}

Brandy – There you go. Just call if you need anything. We’ll check in soon.

Roxi – Thank you.

{Brandy smiles at Keira, who nods and watches Brandy leave.}

Roxi – Don’t glare.

Keira – What?

Roxi – I can tell by the tone in your voice. Brandy has been very nice.

Keira – Fine. Is there anything else you need? Do you need help with that water?

Roxi – I’m only temporarily blind, Keira, not helpless. So long as the food tray is somewhere close.

{Roxi begins reaching for the tray, and Keira swings it towards her. Stopping it so Roxi can touch it, and she places the water bottle on the tray.}

Roxi – Thank you.

Keira – Of course. Is there anything else I can do?

Roxi – Well… since you’re here…

{Roxi points randomly in the room}

Roxi – My phone is somewhere in here with my clothes. I need you to let people know I’m okay.

Keira – Really?

Roxi – Yes. I kinda can’t type.

Keira – Fine. I could have done that for you.

Roxi – Just so people know Keira.

Keira – Yeah yeah.

{Keira gets up and eventually finds Roxi’s phone, and turns it on.}

Keira – I need to unlock it.

Roxi – 2-3-6-8.

{Keira types it in and the phone unlocks.}

Keira – What do you want me to say?

Roxi – Keira, take a letter.

Keira – What?

Roxi – *Sigh* no one gets my comedy from the ‘30’s and 40’s.

Keira –   Maybe it’s just not funny anymore.

Roxi – The classics never die.

{Keira rolls her eyes.}

Keira – Just tell me what you want me to put here.

{Roxi begins to tell Keira what to tweet as the scene fades.}

{We flash to the next day where Roxi is still bandaged up, and Keira sits with her, reading tweets and messages Roxi received. After a while, the doctor finally knocks and enters.}

Dr. Howard – Well, Mrs. Johnson, how are you feeling?

Roxi – I’m feeling pretty good.

Dr. Howard – Well, I think we’ve let enough time pass, so let’s go ahead and get those bandages off and see if we can see.

Keira – That’s not funny.

Roxi – Keira…. Be nice.

{Keira frowns and allows the doctor to approach, and with his safety scissors, he cuts the edges of the bandages off.}

Doctor Howard – Now, if you could reach up and hold those bandages for me?

{Roxi does so, as the remnants of the bandages are tosses aside. Doctor Howard then cuts the bandages down the middle, leaving Roxi hold one over either eye.}

Doctor Howard – Alright. Now, slowly, let’s do it one at a time. Can you close one eye and keep the other open?

Roxi – Yes.

Doctor Howard – Okay, so, whichever eye you can keep closed, keep the bandage on that eye and lets see if one eye is okay. We’ll do it one at a time.

{Roxi slides the bandage off her right eye and keeps the left eye closed. She slowly opens it and blinks a few times. And the first thing she sees is Keira.}

Roxi – Keira.

Keira – I’m still here.

Doctor Howard – So, that looks okay, right?

Roxi – Yes. It feels good too.

Doctor Howard – Okay, so let’s try the other eye.

{Roxi pulls the bandage off and opens her other eye slowly. She blinks and adjusts her eyes to the light in the room and now had full depth perception.}

Roxi – I can see. I see pretty well.

Doctor Howard – Okay, that’s good. It’s going ot take a little bit longer to get your vision back 100% I would just have you stay overnight, and make sure your eyes properly adjust to the light and the dark. If all turns out well, tomorrow, we’ll release you and send you on your way.

Roxi – Excellent.

Doctor Howard – And if for some reason you get fire in your face again, then we’ll be happy to treat you.

Roxi – I don’t plan on it.

Doctor Howard – Good. Alright, we’ll be here if you need anything.

{Doctor Howard exits the room as Keira moves forward and hugs Roxi tightly.}

Keira – Welcome back.

Roxi – It was only temporary. I’m back now.

Keira – Good, but I still think you should think about my request.

Roxi – I can’t do that Keira. It’s not me. I have to be myself. I just may have to take it to a different level.

Keira – That’s what worries me.

Roxi – This is unlike anything that’s ever happened, so it’s all about being able to adapt and overcome.

Keira – But what if you don’t? I don’t want to see you back in another hospital bed.

Roxi – I am fully prepared to stay in the hospital again if it means that the problem is handled.

Keira – Please don’t.

Roxi – I have to. But, I do have some help that’s going to be invaluable.

{Keira smiles.}

Keira – I can’t wait to take her down.

Roxi – It’s not you. I don’t want you anywhere near the ring, or the match when it happens. You focus on your match, and I will focus on mine.

Keira – …

Roxi – Just trust me.

Keira – For now.

Roxi – Thank you.

{We cut again to the next day where Roxi is now moving around doing the things she would normally be able to do without an issue, and operating it seems at full capacity. She passes all the sight tests, and is released from the hospital where Keira is there to meet her.}

Keira – Ready to go to the hotel?

Roxi – I’ll meet you there. There’s something I have to do first.

Keira – What?

Roxi – I need to make a stop and visit an old friend.

{Keira sighs.}

Keira –  Just don’t take too long, and don’t get hung up on something and put yourself at risk.

Roxi – Trust me, nothing is going to keep me from that boat, and kicking Amber Ryan’s ass. I promise.

{Roxi gives Keira a kiss on the forehead and then the two share a tender kiss.}

Keira – Come back to me.

Roxi – I will. I always do.

Keira – I’ll be waiting.

Roxi – I know. Tell Candy I said hello, and I’ll see her soon, okay?

Keira – You got it.

{Roxi and Keira part ways, with Keira headed back to the hotel, and Roxi headed off to her next destination as the scene fades.}


{We open back up with Roxi knocking on a familiar door. It isn’t long before it is answered. The familiar face of Amy Jo Smyth is behind the door, and she wears a serious look on her face, mixed with concern and relief.}

Amy Jo Smyth – Roxi?

Roxi – Hey.

{AJ wastes no time grabbing Roxi by the arm, pulling her into the house and hugging her tightly. AJ kisses Roxi repeatedly on the head, and all the same time, slaps her on the arms and shoulders.}

Amy Jo Smyth – You damn near gave me a heart attack!

Roxi – I’m sorry, I –

Amy Jo Smyth – Sorry? No! You don’t get to say sorry to me, Roxi! You damn near got your face burnt off!

Roxi – I’m aware of that AJ. It was out of my control.

Amy Jo Smyth – You should never have given her ANY sort of trust! That’s all she wanted, you know that, right?

Roxi – I do now.

Amy Jo Smyth – We’re going to fix that bitch, real good.

Roxi – Wait, what?

{AJ leads Roxi by the arm down into her basement, there’s still plenty of random experiments going and AJ causally turns Bunsen burners down or up, and tweaks things here and there seemingly at random. She escorts Roxi to a chair and motions for her to sit down. She begins to examine Roxi.}

Amy Jo Smyth – You still have burns.

Roxi – It was a fireball.

Amy Jo Smyth – Typical. Fucking Amber.

Roxi – You seem more upset about this than me.

Amy Jo Smyth – Because she tried to BLIND you, Roxi! The bitch tried to burn you worse than you are now. If she could have gotten away with it, she would have! Jesus, give me a second. Don’t move.

Roxi – AJ, I’m fine.

Amy Jo Smyth – I said don’t move.

{AJ walks away, and returns with a cold compress and presses it up against Roxi’s burn.}

Roxi – You don’t need to do this.

Amy Jo Smyth – Yes. I do. Hold that against your head and the burn should stop entirely.

Roxi – I know how a cold compress works.

Amy Jo Smyth – But you don’t know how Amber works.

Roxi – It’s why I came to you.
Amy Jo Smyth – You should have come sooner. I could have told you what was going to happen.

Roxi – She did something like this to you before?

Amy Jo Smyth – I can’t count the number of times the bitch has tried to hurt me. I’m over it, but when she does something like this to someone I care about, she’s got to pay.

Roxi – AJ, Please let me handle this.

Amy Jo Smyth – You did a really fucking good job almost losing your eyesight last time.

Roxi – I healed.

Amy Jo Smyth – Yeah, and how many more times are you going to potentially get your fucking face burnt off?!

Roxi – Hopefully, not any more.

Amy Jo Smyth – Alright, you can let go of the compress.

{Roxi let’s go and the burn shows signs of subsiding.}

Roxi – Are you doubting me now, too?

Amy Jo Smyth – No. I’m not doubting you, I’m going to educate you on everything.

Roxi – I know who she is.

Amy Jo Smyth – But you don’t understand what she’s capable of doing.

Roxi – I think I have a pretty good idea now.

Amy Jo Smyth – No, you don’t.

Roxi – AJ, seriously, I can handle it.

Amy Jo Smyth – When I’m done, you will.

Roxi – What?

Amy Jo Smyth – Look, if you can just wrestle her, you have a very strong chance of beating her.

Roxi – Well, this match is now no disqualification.

{AJ closes her eyes for a moment, biting her lip and she exhales exasperatedly.}

Amy Jo Smyth – Very well.

{AJ walks away again, taking the cold compress with her and tosses it into a wash area. She heads into a room, and returns with some cloth, some scissors, and lighter fluid. She plops them down on a table clearing a place for them.}

Roxi – What are you doing?

Amy Jo Smyth – Amber Ryan wants to shoot fire at people, then we’ll shoot fire at her.

Roxi – Wait what?

Amy Jo Smyth – Just watch carefully.

{AJ begins to cut the cloth into strips, taking one and rolling it into a ball.}

Roxi – What are you doing?

Amy Jo Smyth – Hang on…

{AJ opens a drawer behind her and gets a needle and thread. She plops them on the table.}

Amy Jo Smyth – Just remember that the cloth has to be cotton. Not a blend or polyester. And the thread can’t be nylon.

{AJ loops the needle and thread and begins tying the little roll of cloth together. Once she finishes, she picks up the lighter fluid.}

Amy Jo Smyth – Now, make sure the lighter fluid has Naphtha in it. It’s the only way this is going to work.

{AJ take the lighter fluid and put a small amount on the ball, and then pulls out her lighter, and lights the ball of cloth in her hand. She stands proud.}

Roxi – Did you just…

Amy Jo Smyth – Yup. Fireball. Now, this is going to feel like a hot pizza out of the oven, but it burns over time. So… you make a couple of these babies and just chuck them at her.

Roxi – You literally want me to fight fire with fire…

Amy Jo Smyth – That’s your best option now. I would have told you to just wrestle her, but of course, now you’re in a match that lets her have weapons to use freely. Which is unfortunate. Because she’s a walking hardware store. Fire may be the least of your concerns. There’s also thumbtacks, mist, brass knuckles, spikes, and pretty much anything she can get her hands on if she didn’t already bring it. And she’s going to bring plenty of weapons.

Roxi – Sounds wonderful.

Amy Jo Smyth – Don’t joke. She may do this because the whole “Wrestling” thing isn’t what she’s good at. It’s fighting. She’s good at fighting because for her, it’s survival. You are about to encounter someone who is only concerned with hurting you. And you’ve only given her more motivation to do it because she feels justified now.

Roxi – You’ve been paying that much attention?

Amy Jo Smyth – I’ve known Amber for years, and in a controlled environment, she can be at least slowed down. But you’ve just given her free reign.

Roxi – I’ll be careful.

Amy Jo Smyth – So, how many fireballs should I make?

Roxi – What?  You don’t need to make any.

Amy Jo Smyth – What do you mean, not make any?! You’re taking these into this fight. You’re going to need them.

Roxi – I’m going to do things my own way.

{Amy takes the fireball which was still burning, and puts it out forcefully by closing her fist.}

Amy Jo Smyth – Have you not listened to a word I said? You’re dealing with a person who is trying to literally END you. If she could have gotten away with it, she would have done worse. Don’t give her any more of an advantage. You’re going to have to put her down, maybe permanently.

Roxi – That seems harsh.

Amy Jo Smyth – Again… FIREBALL, Roxi. The bitch burnt you with a GODDAMN FIREBALL.

Roxi – I’m aware of that.

Amy Jo Smyth – So, then you understand what you have to do. You need to strike back harder. Maybe these fireballs aren’t enough. But I can make a bigger one. I can make a fireball so big it will burn all her goddamn hair off! That’s what I’ll do.

Roxi – No! No, you don’t need to do that.

Amy Jo Smyth – Roxi, don’t make this difficult. I can make up some other stuff then. I won’t outright maim her, I’ll figure something else out.

Roxi – Don’t… it’s fine. Okay, what you showed me, it’s more than fine.

Amy Jo Smyth – Don’t patronize me, Roxi. If you’re not going to be motivated to fight fire with fire, then don’t bother. But if you wind up in the hospital again because you didn’t listen, I will show up at your show and I will beat the hell out of both of you.

Roxi – It’s not going to come to that.

Amy Jo Smyth – It better not. She hurt you, Roxi, and that makes me upset. She’ll try to hurt you again if you let her. Just don’t give her the opportunity to use any of those weapons and you’ll have a much better chance. And you’ll have an even better one if you just use weapons yourself.

Roxi – That’s exactly what she wants.

Amy Jo Smyth – Fuck what she wants. Who cares? You brain her with a stick in the head, or you smash a chair on her back, it doesn’t make you a malicious person. It makes you a survivor. You’re doing what you have to do to win. And you deserve revenge. Don’t ever think that you’re anything like Amber because you hit her with something. Remember that. Always remember that.

{Roxi finally nods and hugs AJ.}

Roxi – Thanks for the advice.

{AJ removes the hair from her face and looks around. Finally opening a drawer.}

Amy Jo Smyth – All this stress… where is it. Aha.

{AJ produces a small handgun from her drawer.}

Roxi – Um… why do you have that?

Amy Jo Smyth – Protection. Also, I collect them. I need to go shoot something now.

{AJ begins looking in the drawer and she pulls the slide back and locks it, looking for a magazine. She tosses one aside, and then produces a gun in a plastic bag, and places the other gun back in the drawer.}

Amy Jo Smyth – There we go. Come with me.

{AJ leads Roxi to the backyard outside the house, where makeshift shooting range is assembled, and AJ takes the bag and places it down.}

Roxi – Doesn’t anybody say anything?

Amy Jo Smyth – There’s nobody around here for a few miles. Of course, there could always be someone in the woods out there or something. It’s certainly a possibility, but I haven’t hit anything but a target in a long time.

{As long as it took AJ to complete her sentences, she has assembled the pistol, locking the slide back and releasing it, letting it slide in place perfectly.}

Amy Jo Smyth – Like a glove.

Roxi – Well… I’m gonna go ahead and head back to the hotel. And uh… I think we’re going to be moving soon.

Amy Jo Smyth – Moving? Why?

Roxi – We don’t want Nate to get sick. And this place is becoming insane with the virus.

Amy Jo Smyth – Damn. Yeah, these people are fucking dumb. I don’t blame you, but… you know, don’t be a stranger.

Roxi – Never.

{AJ quickly fires off a shot. And peers down the way.}

Amy Jo Smyth – Just remember what I said. Don’t give her any quarter. None.

Roxi – I gotcha.

{AJ fires off another shot, and looks down at her pistol.}

Amy Jo Smyth – I gotta make some sight adjustments. Anyway, just let me know about those fireballs and I’ll get them to you.

Roxi – I will.  I promise.

Amy Jo Smyth – And Roxi…

Roxi – Yes?

Amy Jo Smyth – Do what you know you have to do…

{Roxi nods, walking away from AJ as the scene fades.}


{Roxi is now back at the hotel, as she stands on the balcony looking out at Las Vegas. It is pretty quiet, and for just this moment, Roxi has a little bit of peace. There is a quiet serenity with Roxi just alone, enjoying her view. This is eventually interrupted by her wrist communicator going off.}

Roxi – Vision.

Vision – Hey Rox, how ya feeling?

Roxi – Better. I can see.

Vision – Good to hear. Passed all the tests then?

Roxi – Yeah, back to normal. At least… somewhat normal, I guess.

Vision – Keira still having nightmares?

Roxi – Yeah, we’re going to bring her in for an exam. I don’t know what’s going on there, but, recently, she’s been okay. So… I don’t know, maybe it was just a run of bad dreams.

Vision – I don’t know, people don’t normally scream at the top of their lungs about everything and talk to people who aren’t there.

Roxi – Since when if my wife normal? Since when am I normal? I’ve pretty much given up on the whole normal thing. I don’t even know what it is anymore. How do you define normal? Isn’t normal pretty boring?

Vision – I don’t know, I guess that’s for the psych majors to ponder.

Roxi – I guess. Jeez it’s actually pretty out here.

Vision – Vegas? Isn’t it a desert?

Roxi – Yeah, but… even still. It’s something to look at.

Vision – Oh, right…

Roxi – I guess if there’s one good thing that came out of this, it’s the fact I got a chance to actually know what it’s like to not have my eyes. And all the little things I took for granted. All the things I just didn’t ever stop to take the time to look at. And the idea that I may lose something some precious was terrifying. I’m not going to lie to vision, I didn’t actually know if that was going to turn out for the best.

Vision – But, you can heal.

Roxi – Yes, but it was a slow process. It wasn’t like it should have been, and that is worrying to me. Maybe it’s just me getting old or something. Or maybe something else is wrong. Maybe I should get checked out too.

Vision – We can always schedule you both to come and we’ll take care of you.

Roxi – I know that. I just don’t want Keira to worry. I know she will and I want her to not focus on me, but on herself.

Vision – Good luck with that. You know you’re the same way.

Roxi – I can’t help it. That’s who I’ve always been.

Vision – And that’s who your wife is now.

Roxi – Yeah, I noticed. But, since I got you here, have you been keeping tabs on Hamilton?

Vision – Nothing significant since the thing with Warren. He was ousted by the board and power was given back to Heather.

Roxi – Keep looking at it. I wanna know if they make any sort of move. Has anyone been able to get anything out of Warren?

Vision – No. They’re thinking of using the equalizer.

Roxi – That bad… Alright, just keep me informed.

Vision – Will do. You just be safe out there.

Roxi – I will, you have my word.

Vision – And Rox?

Roxi – Yeah?

Vision – Welcome back.

Roxi – … It’s good to be back.

{Roxi ends the call and sighs, continuing to peer out into Las Vegas as the scene fades.}






Slime like you made me. You earned me.
- Batman (Batman Vol 1 0)


Hello SCW.

As you can see, I’m alive and well. Granted, I had no vision for a couple of days, but that has all returned, and now I can focus on the task at hand. I want to thank all of the people who texted, or tweeted, some of you writing on my Facebook fan page and even some letters, wishing for a speedy recovery. It meant a lot to me to hear from me in a time where, I needed to hear them quite frankly. For those couple of days, it was rough. I know Keira mentioned that I would be at Summer XXXtreme, and that was always going to be the plan, sight or no sight. How smart or effective a choice that would have been is another story, but even with fire literally in my eyes, it couldn’t match the fire inside me, and the anger that seemed to want to consume me like a flame.

Mostly, I was mad at myself. I’m mad I allowed myself even for a second to think that maybe, just maybe, that Amber Ryan was being sincere in her attempts at being a decent human being. After everything that happened, I thought that maybe Amber was actually trying, but as I suspected from the very start, there only thing genuine, was the attempt at being genuine. I’ll give credit where it’s due, Amber put on a heck of performance for the past two months. And maybe, if I wasn’t me, it would have been far worse. I can only take a little bit of pride in making her work that much, but in the end, it worked. And I’m angry at myself for not sticking to my guns and keeping her at least at arm’s length.

But I didn’t. I got to close and much like the rabbit from the old story, I got bit by the snake.

For those that don’t know, there is an old fable about a rabbit that was trying to find a hole to sleep in for the winter. And all the other animals there just wasn’t enough room for them, and the rabbit, and then the rabbit, got invited by the snake to come into his hole. And the rabbit, at first, didn’t want to. He knew it was a bad idea. But the snake insisted. He said I’ve got plenty of room and so after some convincing, the rabbit he went down into the hole, to be safe from the winter storms. And the snake kept luring and luring the rabbit closing, until he had the rabbit in his coils, and he bit the rabbit and began to crush him.

And the rabbit said “why are you doing this?”

And the snake said “Because, I’m a snake. You should never trust a snake.”

The rabbit had to learn the valuable lesson about trusting his instincts. It’s the same one I had to learn the hard way. I had to damn near lose my eyesight in order to learn it, but I did. So in a way, I have to thank Amber for opening my eyes to the truth. This entire thing was a masterful piece of deception.
Sleight of hand, really.

You see, we all have seen magic performed before. But we all know there’s a secret to the trick. It’s about making you think about one thing while doing another. David Copperfield really didn’t make the statue of liberty disappear and Penn and Teller can’t telepathically know what number you’re thinking of. There’s a trick to every trick. But in this case, Amber Ryan revealed the whole trick before she even started.

She challenged me to a match. Her first time in front of all of you, she challenged me to a match. That was the end goal all along. But with everything that happened in between then, and where we are now? That was the magic act. That was the deception, the sleight of hand. Because it was that same night, she wrote me a note. And just a week later, where she could have nailed me with a chair, but she chose not to. And everything subsequently after that, was to make us all believe that while Amber wanted to wrestle me, I was, someone she at least had some respect for. A person she saw as perhaps an equal, and heck, maybe, when it was all said and done, that we could be allies, and even a team.

And low and behold, we did team up. We teamed up and we won a tag match. The misdirection.

And while I was true to my word, and I shook her hand, I can’t even really argue that Amber wasn’t true to hers. At the end of the day, she got what she wanted. The sleight of hand.

And by the time I realized it, it was too late. And that’s how I ended in the hospital with flash blindness. She threw a fireball right in my face, because that was the trick the whole time. Because as we all know, magic really only works if the people you’re doing believe. If you can make them suspend their disbelief for just a few moments, you got them. And I feel like a complete sucker for even entertaining the idea that Amber wasn’t who I thought she was.

They warned me, and I didn’t listen. So I have no one to blame but myself for what happened out there. I know that people can and will just simply blame Amber, and while that’s convenient, it isn’t the whole truth. Let’s not give Amber too much credit. I was the one who gave Amber the benefit of the doubt for that split second, and that’s all she needed. The magician can’t trick someone when they know the trick. And I gave her the powers, and it cost me. Almost dearly.

I mean, worst case scenario, she could have ruined my eyesight permanently. Blinded me for life. I wouldn’t ever be able to see the things I take for granted. A sunset, my birds in my yard, my friends, my neighbors, my own family… my son. All of that could have been taken away because Amber Ryan has a problem with me.

Because why not? A lot of folks just have an issue with me. Mostly for calling them out on the carpet when they do the same things they complain about. I don’t like hypocrites. Simple as that. I don’t like liars and I don’t like people who take pride in bringing others down because they just aren’t interesting as they believe they are.

The fact of the matter is that Amber attempted to take away my livelihood. If she wanted to fight, I was ready right when she made the challenge. But no, we had to play this little game, and at the end, it was all for some cheap thrill. And now, to make matters worse, now I’m being blamed for what happened to me.

Yes, it is completely my fault that I have the ability to read people on a social setting. Maybe it’s because I know bad vibes when I feel them. Maybe it’s because of a person’s track record it’s very hard to take them as a completely changed person. Especially when it’s out of nowhere. And especially after that person challenges me to a match right out of the gate. Sorry that my trouble radar picked up trouble the day Amber Ryan walked in the door. It only comes from experience.

A lot of you do not know Amber Ryan like I do. But let me just state for the record that what happened to me, can happen to anyone at any time. Whenever Amber feels like it she can try and take everything away from you. It’s how she has operated for the past 6 years. At the very least. I’ve seen her stab people, try to break bones, use thumbtacks, mist, and obviously, fire. I’ve seen all of it. And simply because Amber took some time away and came back, I’m supposed to believe she’s changed? Sorry, but it’s not an easy thing to just casually toss aside.

I mean, I did for about 30 seconds and I ended up in the hospital.

So, forgive me for not believing a leopard ever changes its spots. And it turns out, I was right. I didn’t drive Amber to this behavior, and to do what she did. Amber was doing it long before she came to SCW. And not batting an eyelash at any of the destruction she caused. Not caring one bit who she hurt, and how many that were hurt. And now, Amber comes here, and she obviously expects to do the same.

And I will not allow that to happen.

I didn’t make Amber the bad guy, she chose that role for herself. If she wants to play villain, I will play the hero.  She can the lonely child that never fit in, and is not lashing out at the world. But we’ve very rapidly come past the point of words really meaning anything. We’re past the point of being civil and cordial. Amber threw all of that out of the window when she tried to maim me. And yes, I’ve had my hand in it as well. But there is no butterfly effect style thinking here. Thinking if I had treated Amber as anything other than a threat, then we wouldn’t be standing here right now in the exact same position. It was always going to end this way.

This was inevitable.

I know that now. I’ve always known that the day would come, but I just didn’t know when. And now, I do. Summer XXXtreme, finally, after all this time, we’ve come to this moment. And as much as I should be, making the point of how exciting this is to finally get this match and to finally be able to stand across from Amber Ryan and make this something to be remembered… That feeling is now gone. I don’t care about that anymore.

All I care about, is taking Amber Ryan apart. Piece, by piece.  

I chose long ago to be a good person, a decent person. Not to make all the noise, and make myself stand out for the wrong reasons. But then again, any reason one stands out, makes them a target. A target for people who also want to stand out. That’s just human nature. Getting angry and jealous of others, no matter what they do. If a person stands out for being awful, we hate them. We demonize them. But we’re morally superior because we didn’t do, or don’t do, what they did. It makes us all feel like better people.

But when someone stands out for the right reasons, we still demonize them. They’re a “Goody-two shoes” the “Teacher’s pet” so on and so forth. We didn’t do what they did, and now we feel inadequate and inferior. And those who take it to the level that Amber Ryan has taken this, have looked for any reason, any small tiny imperfection to point to and say “Look! Look at this! They aren’t as perfect as you think they are!”

I never claimed to be perfect, just lucky, and a nice person. I’ve got plenty of flaws and imperfections. It’s just a simple case me not being afraid to show them. Not being afraid to embrace them for what they are. I don’t hide who I am from anyone. But if you want to blame me for that, then fine, go ahead and blame me. I will completely accept blame for not being a petty, jealous human being who wants to bring everyone else down instead of lifting them up.

The only thing I do, is tell the truth. And sometimes, the truth hurts when it’s said out loud. It stings to have someone bring up everything that you don’t want to admit about yourself. It stings to have someone lay everything bare. You can either, accept it and make a solid change, or you be willfully blind to it. And deny that it’s you who is the problem. No, it can’t be ME, it has to be everyone else.

And with a fireball, Amber Ryan chose the second option. It’s my fault. Because I didn’t chose to ignore all the pain she’s caused and enjoyed every single second of it over the past 6 years… at least… and accept the new and improved Amber Ryan who is suddenly the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. I’m sorry, I can’t even really count the number of times people in my life, friend or otherwise, who have done the same thing to prove they have changed, and as soon as it got them what they wanted, they went right back to doing what they’ve always done. So now… it’s going to be really difficult to ever have that be something that gets me ever again.

Amber Ryan came here and called me out, not the other way around. I didn’t start this whole thing by making a judgement of Amber Ryan at all. Right before she signed here, I congratulated her on winning the Carnage championship. Perhaps I should have said nothing, or perhaps called her victory hollow, or assumed she had to resort to the types of things she normally would have to, in order to win. But I didn’t. Because at that point I figured we could at least be on somewhat friendly terms. But as soon as Amber walks into the doors here, she wants to fight me. Which makes this entire silly game we just played, entirely pointless. The only thing is accomplished, was a fireball.

I’m never making that mistake again.

So here we are. And now, I once again face a dilemma. I once again have to deal with someone who simply wants to destroy everything I’ve tried to build. A person who just handle the idea that I stand for something that isn’t tainted. A person who wants to erase my legacy, and add to their own. It’s not a secret that Amber Ryan is good. Very good. And dangerous. Extremely dangerous. Her actions, and reputation, proceed her. Amber Ryan has a legacy, and she’s obviously lived up to it. Now there are those that question whether or not I’m thinking clearly. Whether or not I should have signed up to take on Amber in a match where, there are no rules. I come into her playground. And it’s not a smart thing to do. I’ll be the first to admit, it isn’t.

Knowing what happened to me, and what could happen, I would be much safer simply having a normal match, and beating Amber in the middle of the ring. And while that’s true, that’s not good enough. It’s not even CLOSE to good enough. This has to be handled the correct way. So I step out of my own comfort zone and into Amber’s. Because I’m not afraid to get hurt. I know I’m going to take a healthy share of punishment in two weeks. That’s not something that’s lost on me. I know I’m going to get beat up, but you know what? I’ve been hit with sticks and rocks. I’ve gone through tables and fell off of ladders and crashed and burned more times than I care to remember. I’m not afraid of a little pain.

And by doing this, I can beat Amber at her own game. I can stop everything cold, right here, and right now. And if there’s one thing that I know better than anything now, it’s that Amber Ryan has to be stopped before she hurts someone else.

But I know what this truly has turned into.

By doing what I really want to do to Amber, Amber will take it as some sort of victory. She will take it as me being just like her. And that’s the problem. I’m not like Amber Ryan, I don’t take pleasure in hurting others. At least, not as much as she does. Does it feel good sometimes to shut someone up? Sure. Are there times where I feel like I need to cut loose and just do what needs to be done? Yes. But that’s what Amber wants. Giving her the pain she’s caused me back to her, makes me no better than she is. I keep thinking about this and what it does to me. What does it change? Does it mean I’m just as bad if I burned Amber? Would it be more than poetic justice?

But then I also realize that I have to do, what needs to be done. Sometimes, drastic times call for drastic measures.

I think this qualifies.

I didn’t start this fight, but I will finish it.

[DistortedAngel]

 “Nothing warms the cockles of the heart more than the smug self-satisfaction of being right.”
― Val McDermid





Part 4: Mirror, Mirror In The Night





Carnage Heights
Sin City
12.07.2020
11:34pm




“Can you fucking believe this?”

Perhaps a rhetoric wasn’t the most fitting choice of exasperation in this case as Red’s less than subtle disgust manifested in what had quickly become a very one sided conversation. Not that she had expected much response from the crumpled male figure sitting up against the metal dumpster, trying to ignore the fetid and stale fluids that pooled beneath rusted holes and edged closer to his unaware fingertips.
At first there had been some screaming and crying, as though unusual in this area of the city, painful wails and accusations of wrongdoing tempered with weak whimpering and ragged breathing.
Something was murmured about his legs, though she wasn’t paying all that much attention by that point...

He wasn’t from around here- the tailoring suggesting an upper middle class but the glassy eyed stare pointed more towards high functioning chemical imbalance. Red vaguely recognized him from the city circle jerk ceremonial key giving- him and his few mates heckled from behind a much larger group, draining beer from bottles unhealthily fast before throwing them poorly towards the makeshift stage.
One had broken by the Hero’s feet- shattering into larger, clumsy pieces while the tiny shards skittered off into the street. Now it was him- in pieces, humanesque if not a little… twisted.

“I mean will you look at this? Unbelievable.”

Kneeling while trying her best to avoid the spreading mess of unidentifiable liquid waste, it's surface rippling in spite of a stimulus and forming tiny streams of stagnant water, cigarette butts and general unpleasantness between the concrete fissures, Red held up a newspaper front page dated to that morning.

"Hero Cuts Ribbon For New Orphanage. People Clap Politely But Nothing Changes…"

Admittedly, the headline didn’t actually say that however for all intents and purposes it may as well have for it's saccharine delivery and subsequent bootlicking- hell, for all of the overt and cloying adoration one would have presumed that it was God himself coming down from his place of light and all round goodness to cut some stupid ribbon in front of children bribed into looking a stage happier than totally miserable.
Even in the soft, almost jaundiced glow though Red could make out his lack of interest- his eyes rolling around loosely inside his head and the whimpers tempered to a dull teeth grinding and jumbled guttural noises bubbling from between his lips between body wracking sobs.

Returning to standing, perhaps sensing a lack of desired acknowledgement, Red scoffed, her footsteps deliberately heavy and lumbering as opposed to her usual near on silence.
Two floors up didn’t seem like much on the fire escape initially- however she presumed that his wild flailing had little effect on his terrible form and less than picturesque landing, should there have been a judging panel he would have no doubt taken some serious deductions.

Just a clumsy avoidable accident… of course.

Even in stark black and white- the Heroes' toothy smile had radiated beyond the page and through the tattered remnants of the redheads soul as though directed at her and her alone. Beaming and joyous with pride, Red couldn’t help but find something missing behind though captured eyes, something devoid and terrified but otherwise entirely empty like a vessel waiting to be filled with mindless validation and acceptance.
Children around her tried to look delighted- however some were unable to hide their childish bemusement, perhaps aware of the self serving nature of the venture, and the fact that the only things that had really change were a couple less leaks in the roof and rats that would now prefer to cannibalize than steal the occasional toe peeking out from scratchy blankets.

“... Gotta think that ribbon had it coming.”

Red’s asinine commentary was directed at presumably no one now, idly crumpling the paper in one hand while lamenting the fact she’d left her lighter back at the apartment.

“Did you think I’d just not notice?”

A sly smile crossed Red’s tired features, invigorated if only temporarily by the chiming voice of a Hero looking surprisingly grandiose standing between a heavily graffitied wall filled with obscenities and a leaky dumpster dribbling fetid trash juice around their shoes.
Strangely enough perhaps, Red found herself somewhat underwhelmed by it all.

“Oh, run out of photo opportunities have we? Still looking for that reason to make me seem like an asshole or have you already fulfilled your quota with grannies in trees and kittens waltzed across roads today…”

A pregnant pause fell between them, mirror images to the naked eye. Two sides of a coin that seemed intent on tearing itself apart as Red leaned against the wall lazily trying to ignore the fact that some of the paint she thought was paint may not have actually been so.

“Don’t try and play coy, you and I both know where this leads…”

"I just wish you’d get to the lecture already.”

“You need to stop all this- all this pretending like you’re this good person, all the fakery and bullshit. I liked you far better when you were at least honest about who you were…”

Another scoff, albeit more forced this time.

“Stop what exactly Hero- infringing on your little gimmick or just doing your job for you. Admit it- despite that little charade you couldn’t give a shit about people, you’re an addict for validation and I’ve got none to offer you. You’ll do just enough to get people to keep liking you- not too much or you set the expectation too high and not too little cause then people start realizing the horrifying truth… don’t they?
That you’re just like me…”

Hero shakes their head, disappointment and confusion etching lines deeper into her otherwise expressionless  face.

“Is that what you think this is? Don’t you dare try to compare us- what you do is savagery, it's violence for the sake of it and it's nothing close to what you think it is. You think you’re doing everyone a favour but instead you’re trying to justify your actions with thin threads of reasoning and then you want to put it back on me… but that's not how this works.”

Red paused before taking a laboured step closer to the Hero who didn’t so much as flinch.

“If this all weren’t so depressing it might actually be hilarious… You really just think you have me all figured out. You know as though watching from afar is a real accurate representation of what someone was, or what they are now…
See, what I am doing is something you cannot bring yourself to. You wanna act all good and righteous but when it comes to actually doing it… doing things that are ugly for the sake of good, well shit son, all of a sudden you’ve got better things to do. You’ve hands to kiss and babies to shake cause acting as an absolute means you have to take a step closer to being like everyone else.”

Another pause brought Red another step closer, a few feet away at most now and still nothing more than a sullen apathy.

“A step closer to being just like me.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

Red raised an eyebrow, this time though the Hero takes her step-in- narrowly missing the noxious, tracing streams around her feet.

“That's where you're mistaken... You mean to tell me you have all these codes and boundaries- but you don’t flex them when it happens to suit you, that you wouldn’t dare sink into the mire just to prove you’re capable of getting some dirt on your hands… That all morals and ethics get shoved to one side when someone happens to simply rub you the wrong way.
No Hero, you’re exactly like me… The only difference is I’m willing to embrace it, see I tried to be the Hero just like you. Trying to view the world in a way that doesn’t make me wanna vomit my liver half way down this alleyway, I tried to be just like you…
But you don’t want that… right? You just don’t want me to be me either.”

A soft chuckle emanated from Red, idly kicking away at some chunks of brick around her feet.

“No one ever told me I could be anything more than this… regardless how much I might try. Whereas you my darling Hero, you’ve spent your whole career being built up into something you could never live up to, something you absolutely don’t deserve while just making up the rules as you go along to keep that dream alive."

Hero stepped closer, making it an arm’s length now.

“You’re a monster throwing on a halo and hoping it doesn’t fall around your neck. Maybe other people believe you, maybe someone out there thinks you’re everything you say and more- but underneath, you’ll always be this. I sleep soundly knowing that I’ve tried to make this place better, that I’m a good person. How do you sleep at night?”

With an evasive smirk, Red takes two steps back before turning to disappear into the gritty darkness.

“With my fucking eyes closed just like everyone else Hero.”

A soft thud, like that of a sneaker on flesh and bone rang out as the Hero swallowed her initial response.

“You think doing all this makes you better, that it’ll change you into something you can look at in the mirror and not despise- but it won’t, you won’t. Stop pretending you wanna change the world when all you wanna do is destroy it.”

She’d lost sight of Red now, bathed in the anemic glow of the streetlight as the disembodied voice rang out one last time full of venom and contempt.

“One of us is a liar Hero… I just hope you like the smell of smoke.”


******


“I wasn't angry… I was just disappointed.

Disappointed when a Hero acted exactly as expected, disillusioned by the idea that a Hero could act as that paragon of virtue, disenchanted with the level of expectation that I had set for someone else only for them to balk and fail at the first real hurdle.
I accepted it though, I was willing to man up and admit that maybe I was wrong, took one on the chin and hoped my penance and loose tooth would be enough to cease the advancement of the blood starved masses for another day.

It wasn’t supposed to be anything like this.

I had it all planned out.

This was the point where the hero was supposed to get on their soapbox and make a rousing, heartfelt speech into the void in hopes that something vaguely human might be listening. This was the point where the hero looked me in the eye and proclaimed with all sincerity that they believed I could somehow change… that within me were the bones of a far better person.
Although between you and I, I have a sneaking suspicion that that's also known as cannibalism but I won’t tell if you don’t...

This was the point where all those stupid goddamn cliches and lukewarm platitudes were finally supposed to mean something...

Except I didn’t get that.

I got apathy. I got resentment. I got told that I might as well throw myself off a building next cause the expectation is lower than the brow of my sense of humour and sinking fast. Fuck, might as well have had a pocket watch thrown at me and been told that I wasn’t worth their time…

Because I was willing to be an absolute. I was willing to conduct myself in a way that guarantees an outcome that negates all their prestaged heroism, that I was willing to act decisively while Heroes get all wishy-washy about ethics and boundaries.
Predator and prey logic kiddies. A lion won’t starve to death while trying to figure out if attacking old animals that can’t keep up is morally bankrupt, a bear isn’t going to contemplate whether killing so that they might survive all winter is unethical and selfish. An alligator doesn’t give a fuck if the zebra only came to the waters edge for a drink- only that it needs to act for it's own good.

Animals do it, we call it the food chain. Humans do it, we call them monsters.

How is it we can commend and celebrate those who refuse to act in the best interest of many, for the sake of their own reputation? Apparently we do it with ease, a hack built into the psyche of the population where we are drawn to those we perceive as ‘better’ than us…

Consider the age old ‘Trolley Problem’- a test that heroes notoriously fail- five people strapped to a railroad track by a villain, mustache twirling  and top hat definitely included, and you are told you can pull a switch and save those five people…
In doing so though, you condemn another person strapped to a similar track. You might save five, but you deliberately muder one. Fail to throw the switch, your negligence kills five- but you definitely saved one…

Heroes try to find a way to save all, they try to manipulate the physics and twist the wording so that it might be possible to simply derail the train before it ever gets close- just like in society… Manipulation of the masses into a false adoration, perception being the devil in the details when you’re only shown the bigger picture.

People like me… we throw that switch and don’t ever think of it again. Heroes though? Heroes take so fucking long to make a decision that the train ends up coming back the other way and hitting the single person as well without a lever ever being touched… but they’re still the good guy cause they didn’t kill anyone?
Maybe most would see indecision as this little quirk, a personality flaw that makes them endearing and relatable or something a little kooky perhaps like a mechanical mannerism used to build suspense for the heroes final act where they save everyone.

Except they don’t and  leave everyone else feeling  a little metaphorically sore.

Deliberate in their ambiguity- their every movement preplanned calculated to the moment for the best photographic angles against watercolour sunsets, every action designed to garner the best possible response despite its practicality but heaven forbid actually having to critically think about someone else's fate.
Imagine it, living in flux, never committing to anything more than the next self-serving good deed on their itinerary cause those pats on the backs don’t just earn themselves, you know.

Survival is based on decision making, that's how I had lasted in a world not designed for someone like me to succeed.  Decisions though, decisions have consequences yet here stood a Hero thinking they were exempt- like all the rules in the universe just one day no longer applied. Choice and action weren’t impersonal- it was a domino effect and heaven be damned if we don’t get caught up in the middle of it all. For everyone one you made you hurt, you bleed until one day you’re left dry and devoid of anything else but this great fucking stone under your sternum.
You don’t really know how it got there, only that you’re hefting this thing around cause it's sentimental now- it's all you’ve really got left to show for everything you’ve done. It's your consequence after all, you own it, it's your penance in a world that doesn’t give you anything for free.

Heroes don’t carry that weight though, do they?

They go about their business, self-serving and self-destructive cause what they do needs to feel more important than everyone else. They don’t understand that karma doesn’t just ask for it's pound of flesh but takes it only when you don’t have it to spare- they don’t view the world in terms of action and reaction, only that things happen but it's okay cause they’re above all that.

Makes you wonder though, doesn’t it?

What if.

What if you could make those heroes understand. Make them accept the consequences and watch them drown. Show them that their words, their actions and their total existence has bearing… has weight, even if it's carried in someone else's chest.

What if you could become their consequence.

What if.

What… fucking… if indeed.”





******





Part 5: Little Fires Everywhere




Carnage Heights
Sin City
19.07.2020
10:53pm





If there were stars in the sky, Red could no longer see them.

Acrid and billowing, the inky sky had been marbled with an ashen grey and punctuated by flames flickering hungrily at the shattered windows. Even in the street, among the gathering throng of macabre onlookers, the thick smoke was blinding and suffocating as though a hand made of smog had reached into every chest and started to squeeze.
Red lingered among them out of spite, her hoodie up and lit cigarette in hand… An act perhaps a little too ‘on the nose’ as many of the begrudging glances had suggested however a girl couldn’t be denied a fix of nicotine in such a stressful situation.

After all, she was waiting for a Hero to emerge from the burgeoning flames with civilians dangling beneath each arm and a triumphant smile plastered across her sooty features.

Classic. Prototypical. Cliche. Predictable.

Red chuckled at the thought, a Hero searching room after empty room and floor after collapsing floor for desperate and needy stooges, trapped and starting to singe. Even out on the street Red could hear those frantic screams amid the searing heat- picturing the look on the Heroes face when she came to find simply an old tape player stuck on a loop.
Realistically it was an easy enough ruse- after all, the only variable came down to human reaction, the heroes age old desire to ‘do good’ when the opportunity presented itself. As such- the more dire the situation, the more the likely the hero would be to act out of character. Rashly. Impulsively. Stupidly.

A headstrong urge for validation overwhelmed the obvious red flags- a supposedly empty apartment complex, screams that sounded like a poorly edited montage of jump scares and murder scenes from classic horror films. Fire on a night when it had been projected to rain.
Something inside the building shuddered and crunched loudly sending a shower of glowing embers spewing violently from the nearest windows, the startled cries of those ogling spectators drawing Red from her stupor long enough to make out someone behind her vomiting, the visceral sound sending a disgusted, hushed murmur through those within splash radius.

Many would say she finally went too far, that things had escalated to a point that she couldn’t return from- however those same people would defend a heroes words and claim they were right all along. No, fuck those people, they gave up their right to a worthwhile opinion once they bought into the false heroes narrative.
They’d say she crossed the line as though she weren’t justified in going further.

Like the Hero, she could have done more. She could have acted far more violently and ended this far more simply- no ruses, no plans, no spectators. Blood and bitumen as though a girl needed much more to be happy in a place like this.
Was it symbolism- the crumbling decrepit building an analogue for the views of heroes in a society that no longer needed them, broken windows a shattered perspective and the screams like those who’d fallen in her wake already. Did the fire represent jealousy or rage- fierce emotional pain manifesting in ash and chaos, an infernal incarnation of Red’s destructive betterment… Tearing something down in hopes of something better being rebuilt in its place. Phoenixes and their proverbial blaze of glory…

After all, a pyre in the middle of a downtrodden neighborhood deserved more than just eight lines somewhere on page 12 between a scathing restaurant review and the lonely hearts columns. Journalists would lap this up, dribbling subjective and derisive narrative on paper before hand feeding it to the masses- basic and banal, just the way they liked it.
They’d call Red reckless, dangerous even, as though she hadn’t been either until just this point. They’d call her a monster as though the Hero hadn’t already proclaimed it for all to hear.

Truth be told though, Red mused as someone pointed out a silhouette on the second floor, it was never about the building… Never even really about the fire… Tools in a toolkit, props to prove a point, a contrived means to a much needed end.
Spluttering and coughing, the flames parting like Moses before his Red Sea moment, the Hero staggered wildly from the building, clothes smouldering and singed in places while a thin layer of soot seemed to have settled onto her fair skin. Illuminated by the glowing doorway, there was that typical heroic moment of glory before she collapsed onto the sidewalk grazing her knees.

Onlookers rushed forward in veneration and concern, the Hero still blinded by the smoke trying to communicate however only succeeding in spitting black saliva in thick globs and gasping for breaths not filled with embers and debris.
Despite the surge, Red remained where she was knocking a head off ash off the neglected cancer stick that had burned right down to the filter- something inside her secretly pleased that the Hero had made it out in one piece, yet still dissatisfied with the mindless admiration heaped on someone who had only acted in their own individualistic interests.

Fire was a cleansing process, it's why many cultures used it in ceremony. Sacred and meaningful- to emerge from flames was to be reborn anew, an opportunity to see the world from a different perspective. Red watched intently, the filter catching alight between her fingers before falling away to the ground and being crushed beneath the worn out sole of a converse sneaker.
She had gifted the Hero one last chance, the gift of a phoenix's rebirth to embrace the person she truly was- rather than the contrived facade she had bought into. Few had the chance to see the world in a different light, Red had been one although her circumstances far more tragic than consequential, perspective rinsed clean in an inferno in hopes that something more broad-minded might be written upon the newly clean slate.

Except it wasn’t though, the Hero had emerged as the same one who’d entered. Privately vindictive, unreasonable and so woefully self-justified in her distorted context that in hindsight a frontal lobotomy might have been far more productive for time and efforts sake.

“I… I… I couldn’t… save… Still in there… I’m so sorry…”

Disjointed, the words cast a hush over the crowd.

It was a guilt trip. It fucking had to be, an effort to draw Red from the crowd so that she might be driven further into the ground, a ploy to prove that Red was every bit of the sociopath that she’d claimed.
No, the place was fucking abandoned. Empty to the point even the vermin had given up on the place years before. How could it possibly…

Red could feel the Hero staring at her, no, through her. With clouded eyes and dark charcoal streaks, the Hero narrowed her eyes at Red like she were staring through a grimy window trying to make out shadows on the other side
No one was ever supposed to get caught in the crossfire, and perhaps no one had, but it would be inevitable now that the Hero had proven that she had no fear for those who might stand in Red’s way- if only testing the limits of her indifference.

Red tore her eyes away from the growing scene while sirens in the distance wailed mournfully. Not for the loss of life, but of the idea that at some point she might have been worth saving. Only then, with the crackling sound of an inferno and the hum of indolent chatter falling into the difference did it finally start to rain.





******




"There was a time once that I needed saving.

I looked out into the world, the edges fading into darkness and inside myself I begged one last time for help, for something to change, for a second chance cause at this point I was still worth one. At least I thought so- I was young and dumb, I had made mistakes but I was still a fucking good person. I wasn’t what I’d become, I hadn’t been ground into dust and snorted for shits and giggles, I hadn’t been dragged through the muck and the guts and the raw metaphoric sewerage that this world had to offer.

I was a kid, a kid hoping that maybe she was worth something. A kid with hope in her heart that Heroes truly did the right thing and a kid who dreamed that maybe she could be just like them...

I needed saving and nothing happened.

I needed saving and no Hero came, no one stopped nor did they care. Despite all that, despite it I still believed for a long time that there was good to be sought out- that those deigned as heroes and saviours might still be credible and that I had simply been unfortunate.
Wrong place, worse time.
Wouldn’t be the first and surely not the last.

I came to this place based on a promise there there was a Hero, that maybe I could be saved after all. That they could look me in the eyes and tell me I was worth trying for- despite my background, despite everything I had done, despite what I promised I would do to survive.
I looked a Hero dead in the eye and got told that I would always be a monster, that I wasn’t worth redeeming. I was beyond the point of redemption, that I was irredeemable like I’d gone terminal overnight and no one could stop the spread.

So all I really had left to ask was this… WHO THE FUCK GOT TO DECIDE WHETHER I WAS WORTH SAVING.

Not one Hero got to stand up in front of the world and decide my fate- that the middle manager stuck in traffic and blowing his stack or the ‘Karen’ pushing her expired coupons till she was red in the face, somehow held more worth than me. Another living person with thought and feelings, with intentions that had been questionble at times and pure otherwise, with a difference to make in this shitty fucking place.

There's an adage about men who just want to watch the world burn- but no one ever questioned what brought them to that point, driven to extremes and condemned when they act in the most humanly fallible form. People only see the flames- not every goddamn step it took for them to pick up the gasoline, not every word that led them to grabbing a box of matches and not every side eye and judgemental gaze that left them with no other option but to try and start over.
No one ever remembers anything except the culmination, the single climax of every time the world let them down, the moment they told the world all the ways they could go fuck themselves cause it just wasn’t worth trying anymore.

Still, there were those who said ‘you can’t save everyone’ cause time is finite and resources are limited. Only one person could do so much and that maybe I was just bitter and vindictive.
You’re damn right I was bitter and vindictive- but that never meant it wasn’t worth the attempt, that there was only one chance to be had. Over and over again, denied and derided for acting as an absolute cause nothing else had worked. Nothing else had even made a goddamn dent in the armour.
Chided for getting my hands dirty, demoralized cause I didn’t fulfil a certain image- I wasn’t worth it cause I was a liability.

Either way it was never up to one person to decide.

Maybe the hero was right all along, that I finally showed off my true colours  and I’m every bit the piece of shit they told everyone I was- you know, as though they hadn’t poisoned the well from the start. See, heroes wanted more badly than anything else to be right… Fuck the cost. Fuck the consequence.
They were willing to sabotage the world around them and send the world to hell in a handbasket just so that they could have their sweet, sweet ‘I told you so’.
Never mind what they had to do to get there, the lies told and decisions passed upon if only so the narrative flows in the precise direction that they wanted. Heaven forbid anyone try to colour outside the lines cause that just wouldn’t sit right with the fairytale ending.

It was just a shame we lived in a world where things were more complicated than that, that clicking your fingers didn’t earn you a do over and tapping your heels didn’t get you home with a sweet smile and some carefully worded phrases.
We lived in a place of fire and hurt- of sticks, stones and broken bones where words killed with the same frequency as a bullet to the brain. We lived in a place that I’d have set alight a thousand times over if it meant that I might create change for the better.

It's just a shame that only in hindsight do I realize that I should have.”





******





Part 6: When Two Rights Make A Wrong





Downtown, Near Sin City Harbour
Sin City
02.08.2020
8:57pm






Summer XXXtreme.

A city wide celebration culminating in a fireworks display that may or may not have been threatened to be cancelled cause a couple years prior the homeless shelter caught alight from not being up to building standards. Many congregated near the harbour jostling for the best spots to obscenely crane their neck cause the fireworks were always far closer than what they appeared- families milled and bustled, maneuvering strollers and inconsolable toddlers with the promise of ice-cream whilst swearing that next year they wouldn’t bother. Just like every other year before.  

It had become a night of tradition for many of the teenagers- like prom except without the threat of a chaperone finding them in one of the toilets trying to wriggle their pants past their dress shoes while an impatient girl in a marshmallow dress held layers of tulle out of the toilet bowl. Underage drinking on rooftops escalated to drunken brawls by the water and sex-capades between shipping containers.
Prom had nothing on Summer XXXtreme around these parts- a blessing and a curse on a city in dire need of destruction and distraction.

Red found herself on one of these many rooftops- the writhing mass of humanity below completely oblivious to anything beyond the violations of their personal bubble. She couldn’t quite see the festivities, but that wasn’t why she’d chosen this spot- neon and garish against the midnight sky Red was only invested in the fireworks display, with t-minus three minutes to go.
Watching the world pass beneath, her hoodie fluttered around her as her legs dangled off the edge and tendrils of red hung lankly around her face- her hands gently twirling a sealed red envelope between her dextrous fingers.

“What if I told you, Hero, that I knew what you would do before you do it.”

Behind her, the Hero stood defiantly. Red could feel the tension, a hair trigger between them before she could see the less than impressed expression on the Hero’s face, nor the red envelope of her own, opened and clutched tightly in her hand.

“That I know you better than you potentially know yourself.”

Red teetered on the edge slightly, the surge of adrenaline in her veins leaving her wired and a little further on edge. She swung her legs back over, finding her feet as the Hero watched on pensively.

“But I’m giving you the opportunity to prove me wrong… Just this once”

Red paced methodically, each set of eyes firmly trained on the other.

“A choice Hero… See, you know everything I’ve done. All the things I have the potential to do and frankly how little I care for your opinion on all of the above. No matter what I seem to do- you think I’m evil, that I’m a bullet with a name.
But what if that could end tonight?”

Red paused contemplatively, her expression softening into something vague and indecisive.

“No one knows we’re here and fewer would probably care. You could push me off this roof, you could stop me in my tracks and save everyone around here a whole lot of heartache… Friends, family, loved ones. Tell me Hero, do you think I’d stoop that low or would you rather not find out.
You could FINALLY act decisively, like a real goddamn hero and end my miserable existence- but know that I would remain on your conscience cause despite how much you must loathe me, you still feel guilt Hero. You’re still human and being decent is just another personality flaw.”

Red watched, waiting for a response however the Hero remained stoic, as though waiting to be presented with further choice to which Red obliged albeit with a tired smile.

“Or… I walk away without you ever laying a hand on me. Your conscience is saved, but for how long? All those people down there, the ones oblivious to our little song and dance… It's their blood on your hands. We both know I’m too far gone now and that's on you- everything that has led to this exact point is on you. You can choose to let me walk away but you will unwittingly disappoint every single person that cares about you in the process.
They will never know your choice, they will never understand why my name cuts you so deep or why you can’t seem to look in the mirror anymore cause you know it's my face you’ll see… But you will.”

Trailing off in a hiss, Red’s voice dies in the breeze as the silence between them falls heavier by the second.

“... and I know precisely what you’ll do. Or do I?”

“You don’t know shit.”

“That makes this the perfect test then! I know that you could have done anything to stop me and not once have you- you complain and dismiss me like I might just turn to dust, you clearly know who I am and what I’m capable of and yet you do nothing about it.”

Red closed the distance swiftly, her fists balled so tight it's a wonder her knuckles didn’t snap under the strain however she slowed to a stop mere feet before the Hero as though inviting any form of repercussion or reaction. As though begging for something to happen, begging to be proven either way.

“I could have maimed you whenever I chose, injured you to the point you’d be sucking every fucking meal through a straw for the rest of your godforsaken existance. I could have hurt you in ways you didn’t even know existed and all I didn’t… Cause I want to see you make a decision.
Prove to me that you are capable of not disappointing me just once Hero… Just… once.”

Red’s expression falls slightly, the previously unwavering confidence and venom allowing a peek at something far more raw and vulnerable. Even from the distance, she could smell the residue of smoke on the Hero’s skin, the grime in her pores that couldn’t be gotten rid of without scrubbing down to the bone.

“Show me something Hero. I might not be a Hero but you haven’t shown me anything that doesn’t mirror who I am and what I do- see it's not up to me to be proven good, it's up to you to be proven anything except indifferent.”

With an unintended flourish, Red stalked back towards the edge expectantly… Counting down the seconds, her lips carefully morph into every number with the tenderness of a lover's final kiss. Eyes closed, she takes the deepest breath she might muster, pulse rampant between her ears and heart planted firmly in the back of her throat.

Nothing. Nothing except fireworks.

Red had never felt so anticlimactic about fireworks, fierce and yet fleeting a spectacle for the easily entertained masses. Far easier to digest than the philosophical war raging between mirror images, Red suspected as she turned to find the  Hero continuing to eye her warily.

Perhaps she was expecting more, maybe they both were.

Exhaling a soft sigh, Red padded across the rooftop softly towards the Hero, envelope clutched tightly in hand and expression contemplative as though actually disappointed about not having been pushed to her probable death.
With lip curling into a familiar half smile, Red pulled up to the Hero's side allowing the tension between them to violently bubble up to the surface before forcing the envelope between the Heroes reluctant fingers.
Red leaned in, just enough that her voice might tickle the edge of the Heroes ear but not enough that she might be within ‘Liverpool Kiss’ range and spoke in a hoarse whisper that betrayed something more than a simple statement.

“Congratulations Hero, maybe you really are all you're cracked up to be.”

Lingering a second longer than necessary, Red’s vitriolic confidence and mischievous smirk left the Hero fraught with confusion and anxiety though she dared not show the darker mirror image that she was even remotely shaken.

With a soft, barely audible chuckle Red disappeared from sight leaving the Hero to contemplate the envelope. Smaller, more tightly folded than her own- she considered briefly simply shredding the fucking thing and tossing it into the night like cheap confetti against a backdrop of exploding neon.


Cautiously, the Hero slid her finger beneath the seal and tore the paper edges asunder to find a neatly folded note. Crisp white but otherwise generic and unassuming, her expression hardened even without Red peering over her shoulder she could tell she was still somehow being observed.

Four words, four words that confirmed perhaps what they both had already known as the note tumbled to the floor, drifting lazily before settling on the cold concrete surface as the Heroes footsteps stormed away.
Even as the edges soaked through in the residual damp and the ink started to run- those words, those four little words could very easily be made out in black, scratchy letters…

'Better Luck Next Time'





******




[/color=teal]"What's worse than a story not ending as you expect…

Quite simply it's one that ends exactly as you would expect.

Heroism was nothing short of predictable- if it wasn’t it would be deemed chaos, it would be scorned and held in the utmost contempt. I learned that people loved heroes cause they knew exactly what they were getting- no surprises, no unexpected outcomes and most importantly it was safe. Comfortable, certain safety.
See, the world wanted its chaos but at the same time they wanted to be able to say when they wanted it, how much they wanted and where it had to end- they wanted mayhem but they wanted it to jump through all their hoops in the process. It's why they would stare at a car crash despite how gruesome and offensive it might be, a distinct desire to see the worst case scenario provided it wasn’t happening to them.

Heroism filled that void- or tried to at least- so many living vicariously through the feats of heroes and martyrs alike because it's safe for them to do so, I mean it's not their body nor their lives, it's not their loved ones who suffer nor their relationships they trample in the process. They got to see the world through someone else's eyes without having to deal with the baggage that came with it…
That's why heroes had a short life expectancy, especially in a place like this…

Supply and demand kiddies. Eventually everything becomes mundane that they had to continue upping the proverbial ante- stopping grocery store robberies and arresting street dealers turned into stopping bank robberies and thwarting organized crime. A taste became an addiction until they could no longer keep up so they’d move onto the next shiny wonder in a cape and ill-fitting tights.
Heroes believed they could do more, that they could do everything and nothing else mattered. Fulfil the objective, be what everyone wanted them to be or go down in flames trying cause who didn’t love to see a hero on fire. They convinced themselves that everyone else could live up to the unrealistic expectation cause they had a million people at their back pushing them off a fucking cliff and waiting for them to sprout wings and fly.

We couldn’t cause that wasn’t our place.

Heroism couldn’t exist without something to oppose. Simple nature vs nurture.

Who we were and what the world made us were the precise reason that two sides of the same coin could be convinced that they weren’t anything alike. Trauma and triumph impacted us all in ways unseen and unwilling- the most naive and caring of us all deformed into something detached and disinterested, the darkest of souls finding a light that brought them back from the brink and heroes… Heroes that acted against all they were supposed to be just so they could say they opposed something, so that they could claim to be heroes if only cause what they did was marginally better than the next guy.

After all this time, the stories and anecdotes alike it begs the question…

Who is to blame for the situation we found ourselves in?

If it weren't for me- maybe there’d be a lot more people in the world who could change for the better, they wouldn’t but I didn’t give them another go-round to try. If it weren’t for me then maybe a hero wouldn’t be frantically dissecting everything they are in hopes of finding that core that they know mirrors mine in hopes of tearing it out.
If it weren’t for me- we wouldn’t be questioning the justifiability and necessity of heroes in a world that had long since moved on.

However…

If it weren’t for the Hero- maybe those people would have done worse, could have been another version of me running anarchic through the streets creating chaos purely because it's far more fun than the alternative. If it weren’t for the Hero then maybe I could have found that piece inside myself that was good and used it instead of burying it beneath someone elses shitty fucking opinions.
If it weren’t for the Hero… None of this would ever have happened.

What was the lesser of two evils, cause there was no good here. No decency and morality to behold- anyone who made that argument lost their right to have an opinion, cause if there were any kind of virtue among us then it had been thrown aside the moment things got a little heated the moment a Hero got threatened that she might be exposed as a fraud.
Being a Hero wasn’t a moral choice in the end, it was a facade for damnation.

As humans that's what we desired most of all- the ability to cast judgement, to know there was always someone one step lower than us, someone more unfortunate than us, someone whose circumstances made us feel far better about our own first world bullshit. We wanted to be seen as the best, but only if there was someone to beat- after all, first place meant nothing if there wasn’t a second and so on.
When things went awry, we needed a finger to point and someone who could take the brunt on their shoulders so that we might only see shrapnel of collateral damage… so we started looking down, cause cowardice- like water- always sought out the lowest point.

We started looking down and then gravity took over.

That's where the heroes paradox came in- the final choice I gave the Hero was the ultimate test, after she’d failed every one set before that. See, at every given turn she had the opportunity to act as the world desired, to be the hero they all wanted her to be and instead she chose the route that would bring her closer to me.
All she ever had to do was believe in me, or admit that she too… she too had something inside of her dark and ugly, something uncontrollable that scared her to fucking death ten times over knowing it might somehow escape and hurt everyone around her.

Act good and fail everyone even if they might never know the extent to which you’d damned them… Or act evil, admitting that you aren’t perfect but know it's for a longer term good, that you’re saving far more than you sacrifice.
No doubt she would have told me she couldn’t, that she wouldn’t cause she was somehow better than that.

STOP FUCKING LYING ALL THE TIME HERO.

She had her chance to be better and instead she threw it in my face, only when held accountable did she decide she suddenly had boundaries and codes of conduct again. None of them seemed to matter when she could have taken my head off with a single punch, somehow they never applied when I was dropping scumbags from heights and she just watched them all fall…
It was only when I started to set the world alight in hopes that maybe I might just cleanse this godforsaken place of her influence that she remembered who she was supposed to be, the mask slipped and for a moment the world saw who you were and you didn’t like who it was they saw.

Nothing mattered until the fight reached your doorstep, knocked politely and asked to come inside.

She didn’t care until it was her head I was coming for. One above all, forever and always.

Will you ask if this is where the story ends- unfulfilling and fraught with loose ends?

Did you expect a fairytale ending- good over evil, the righteous over the immoral, the hero standing tall as the villain crawls on bloodied hands across broken glass in hopes that maybe there is some salvation left for them to cling to.

Tell me, who is it you saw as that hero standing tall?

Proud. Undeniable. Justified.

And why, I’m sure you’ll ask, was it me you saw all along?”[/color]

[Roxi Johnson]

 {We open not long after Roxi returned the hotel after leaving the hospital. Roxi and Keira would do like most during the brief rest before heading back on the road, they returned home. While they did so every week after the show, this one was something that seemingly both Roxi and Keira needed more than ever. As soon as they enter the front door, Nate is right there to meet them.}

Nate –   Mommy! Mama!

{Roxi and Keira smile as they kneel down and hug Nate.}

Roxi –  Are you okay, baby?

[cololr=blue]Nate –[/color] Uh huh.

Roxi –  Good. Were you a good boy for Gramma?

Nate –   Uh huh. We play with the legos and the tablet.

Keira –  Did Gramma make you some good food too?

Nate –   Uh huh. We eated the macaroni and cheese.

Keira –  You did? Did you eat all of it?

Nate –   Uh huh.

Keira –  Good boy. I’m proud of you.

Roxi –  Where is Gramma?

Elizabeth –  In the kitchen.

Roxi –  Thank you Mom.

{Roxi slowly gets up as Keira picks up Nate and her bags and walks to the bedroom. Roxi joins her mother in the kitchen.}

Roxi –  Was he okay this week?

Elizabeth –  He’s no trouble. A lot of the time so long as he’s in eyesight he’s fine. He just plays on that tablet or with his toys, he tells me when he hungry or he has to go to the bathroom. He tells me all about the videos he watches and the games he plays.

Roxi –  Sounds like you have a busy schedule.

Elizabeth –  He keeps me busy. Helps me make up for lost time.

Roxi –  Thanks for doing this.

Elizabeth –  No problem. I –

{Elizabeth notices the scab on Roxi’s head where the burn was. She also notices the small amount of hair missing.}

Elizabeth –  You know, you’re going to get seriously hurt one of these days.

Roxi –  It’s nothing. Just part of the job.

Elizabeth –  Getting burned? Roxi, I know you know what you’re doing, but come on now, this is ridiculous.

Roxi –  I know, I made a mistake, but those types of things happen.

Elizabeth –  I don’t see where that’s part of the job when you wrestle.

Roxi –  Bruises, cuts, scrapes, and burns, they’re all part of wrestling when you do it long enough.

Elizabeth –  You could have been blind the rest of your life.

Roxi –  I put my life on the line every time I step in to the ring. I just don’t think about it.

Elizabeth –  I made sure Nate didn’t watch.

Roxi –  Thank you.

Elizabeth –  Just… be more careful.

Roxi –  I think we’re beyond careful. I’m gonna need you to pack your things.

Elizabeth –  Pack my things? Why?

Roxi –  We’re going to need you to come on the trip.

Elizabeth –  Are you sure that’s wise?

Roxi –  We’ll need someone to watch Nate.

Elizabeth –  What kind of trip?

Roxi –  A cruise.

{Elizabeth sigh and shakes her head, putting her hands up.}

Elizabeth –  No thank you. I get seasick really easy.

Roxi –  You don’t have to leave the cabin.

Elizabeth –  No. I cant handle the waves and all that. It makes my stomach all queezy. I’ll be okay at home.

Roxi –  You’re sure?

Elizabeth –  Positive.

Roxi –  Then I’m gonna call dad to make sure he can keep you company.

Elizabeth –  I’ll be fine. I’ve got some sewing I can do, and some cleanup around the house.

Roxi –  The movers will be here soon to start packing things up.

Elizabeth –  Have you even decided where you’re going?

Roxi –  We haven’t had time to discuss it. I’m sure Keira is looking for something. And besides, it’s only temporary.

Elizabeth –  Provided this actually gets better.

Roxi –  Doesn’t it always?

Elizabeth –  No. Sometimes it doesn’t get better. That’s just life.  But you should discuss this with Keira. Moving is a big deal.

Roxi –  I know, I just don’t want her to worry so much. She’s got important things to do.

Elizabeth –  And you don’t? I’m pretty sure you’re getting back into the ring with the person who did that to you.

Roxi –  Of course.

Elizabeth –  Stubborn.

Roxi –  Just like my mother.

Elizabeth –  I beg your pardon?!

Roxi –  Mom, you’re stubborn as a mule. Dad is too. That’s how we all are.  It’s how you raised Nicole and I. It’s how dad raised us. It just runs in the family. It’ll be how Nate is when he gets older.

Elizabeth –  He’s stubborn now.

Roxi –  Well then I guess I made my point.

Elizabeth –  I know you and your sister are stubborn. But our goal always was to raise you to be independent. To be able to understand the world. Though I’m beginning to understand myself that… the world is a confusing place and you may not ever understand it. I sure don’t.

Roxi –  It’s not going to be easy. It may take a lifetime, but I’m gonna try. Now, you’re sure you don’t want to go on this cruise?

Elizabeth –  No dear. You and Keira should take this time and be with Nate anyway. He needs his parents. Enjoy yourself.

{Roxi finally nods… conceding her mother’s wishes.}

Roxi –  Fine. Fine. I just don’t want you to be alone.

Elizabeth –  I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about me.

{Roxi stops, and then smiles at her mother.}

Roxi –  Wow I talk like you a lot.

Elizabeth –  It runs in the family. Now go take care of your son.

Roxi –  Yes mother.

{Roxi eventually walks away from her mother and back to the living room, where she grabs her bag and returns it to the bed room. Keira is laying down on the bed, with Nate snuggled up against her.}

Roxi –  Have you taken out all the dirty clothes?

Keira –  Uh huh… There in the hamper.

Roxi –  Alright, I’ll get the load started.

Keira –  Okay.

{Keira closes her eyes, playing with Nate’s hair and quickly beginning to fall asleep.}

Roxi –  We do need to talk about something.

{Keira groans.}

Keira –  What did I do this time?

Roxi –  Nothing, but it is about the future.

{Keira slowly sits up and eases off the bed. She accompanies Roxi out into the hallway, leaving Nate on the bed, playing with his tablet.}

Keira –  Okay?

Roxi –  Have you thought about what we’re doing for moving?

Keira –  Not really. I mean, I have places I’d rather live, but I don’t know if it’s even possible. I assume they’ll let us know before they come get the stuff.

Roxi –  I just hope it’s temporary.

Keira –  Me too.  But it’s the best solution. With Nate, eventually, he’s going to want to go outside and play, and we literally can’t do that now. I’m afraid to have him outdoors without all of us here.

Roxi –  I am too. I just hope this all ends soon.

Keira –  Is your mother coming on the trip?

Roxi –  No, she hates being on the water. Maybe that’s why dad liked fishing so much.

Keira –  So… wait, is she going to be here all alone?

Roxi –  I’ll call my dad before we leave. Try and make sure that he keeps her company.

Keira –  But… isn’t your dad you know… out of the loop? What if he comes and he starts snooping around or something.

Roxi –  Well, he’s pretty much the only one who doesn’t know at this point. I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Keira –  I don’t like it. I think someone else should come?

Roxi –  What, like Jenny?

{Keira frowns.}

Keira –  Jenny Tuck, is not setting another foot in this house.

Roxi –  Okay, touchy.

Keira –  I will end her before she does it.

Roxi –  Okay, relax. If we need someone else, then what do you suggest?

Keira –  I don’t know, we can figure it out. I just want to get some sleep.

Roxi –  How have you been sleeping?

Keira –  Better, But I still feel fried.

Roxi –  Me too. Maybe mom was right, maybe we do this vacation.

Keira –  I certainly do.

Roxi –  Yeah.

Keira –  What about you?

Roxi –  What do you mean?

Keira –  I mean, people don’t ask you, how you feel.

Roxi –  That’s my fault for telling them not to worry.

Keira –  It’s why I’m asking you now. You’ve been through a lot.

Roxi –  I know that, I’ll go through more. But you know the deal we made.

Keira –  I know, I’m not going to interfere or doing anything to Amber, but I want you to be at your best.

Roxi –  Maybe a few days on the open ocean will do me some good. Get my mind of everything that’s clouding it, and just have a good time until Sunday.

Keira –  Sounds like a plan. Anyway, I’m going to go to sleep.

Roxi –  Alright.

{Keira heads back into the bedroom and soon Nate walks out of it, smiling at Roxi as Roxi kneels down and kisses him on the forehead.}

Roxi –  I love you.

Nate –   I love you too, mommy.

Roxi –  Are you ready to take a trip on the boat again?

Nate –   The big one?

Roxi –  Yeah. The big one.

Nate –   Oh yeah. That’s cool!

Roxi –  I know, you get to go out on the big boat again and see a lot of friends.

Nate –   It’s gonna be… awsme!

Roxi –  Awesome! Now, are you hungry? I can make you some food.

Nate –   No, I’m okay mommy. I just gonna play with the legos.

Roxi –  Okay, go plug your tablet in then.

{Roxi watches Nate walk away, as she takes a moment to rest her head against the door frame and give a deep sigh. She walks down the stairs and into her room full of her drum equipment. She sits down for a moment, but in that moment, she doesn’t actually want to play anything. She looks at the kit, and then slowly stands up. She begin touching all the pieces of the kit and then walks away from it, as the scene fades.}



{The new scene is here and we are aboard the cruise. Roxi, Keira, and Nate make their way aboard and into their room.}

Nate –   This is small.

Roxi –  Yeah, it’s not as big as the house, but the boat is big, right?

Nate –   It’s a great big boat!

Roxi –  That’s right.

Keira –  Now… to find that cafeteria?

Roxi –  We literally just got here!

Keira –  And I’m hungry!

{Roxi rolls her eyes and watches as Keira sets her bag down and exits the room, looking for the food.}

Roxi –  Mama is silly.

Nate –   Mama is silly!

Roxi –  Okay, is your tablet charged?

Nate –   Uh huh.

Roxi –  Okay. You play with for a minute while I get everything set up for mommy’s laptop and then we’ll go look out at the water, okay?

Nate –   Okay.

{Roxi sets up her laptop and plugs it in, setting up her wifi and then receives a buzz on her phone. She pulls it up and it’s a facetime request from her sister.}

Roxi –  Nicole?

Nicole –  Guess whose back home?!

Roxi –  Nicole that’s good news, but… I don’t maybe bad news.

Nicole –  Yeah.. may not have been the smartest move I’ve ever made.

Roxi –  How long have you been back?

Nicole –  For like… a day. I’m stuck in quarantine for two weeks, at least. Gotta get tested.

Roxi –  Ouch.

Nicole –  Yeah, nothing like being stabbed in the brain I tell ya.

Roxi –  I’m just glad you’re okay.

Nicole –  I will be after I get outta here. It smells like old people.

Roxi –  That’s just Florida.

Nicole –  Haha. Good one, Rox. And they say you don’t have a sense of humor.

Roxi –  No, you see, that’s the problem. I have a sense of humor. And when there is humor, I will sense it.

Nicole –  That wasn’t any better.

Roxi –  Well, I thought so.

Nicole –  Well, don’t quite your day job then.

Roxi –  That’s not funny either.

Nicole –  Anyway, what are you guys up to?

Roxi –  We’re on a boat.

Nicole –  Must be nice.

Roxi –  It is for now. Just to get away from everything. A nice little cruise.

Nicole –  Perks of being a wrestler.

Roxi –  Sometimes it’s good.

Nicole –  I’ll bet. Where’s m- Oh wait… you didn’t bring her did you? You know she doesn’t like water.


Roxi –  I learned as much. She’s at the house. If you’re back, can you… at least swing by and stay with her?

Nicole –  I’ll see what the quarantine lets me do. But I’ll be sure to give her a call if that helps.

Roxi –  Anything at this point. I already told dad to swing by and check on her. We don’t have any alcohol at the house but…  I don’t put it past her to go stir crazy since she’s alone.

Nicole –  Well, that’s how this whole mess started isn’t it?

Roxi –  It was.

Nicole –  Yeah, so, probably not good to leave her alone for too long. Anything I should know about before I go over there?

Roxi –  What do you mean?

Nicole –  I don’t know, you have like deactivation codes for your door or is it land mined or something?

Roxi –  Why would my door be land minded?

Nicole –  I don’t know. I don’t know how you guys work!

Roxi –  Okay, no the front door isn’t land mined. All you have to do is knock. Mom should always be there. If not, you have a key.

Nicole –  Okay, but inside, anything super crazy?

Roxi –  Just don’t fiddle around in the basement and we’ll be okay.

Nicole –  What’s in the basement?

Roxi –  Stuff.

Nicole –  What kind of stuff?

Roxi –  Nicole. Don’t be nosey, and we’ll be fine.

Nicole –  Wait… does mom know?

Roxi –  *Sigh* … it wasn’t my intention, but it happened.

Nicole –  No shit… man, that’s nuts.

Roxi –  It wasn’t something I was planning to ever tell her. I didn’t want her to worry.

Nicole –  And? How’d she take it?

Roxi –  Surprisingly well. She does my sewing now.

Nicole –  What the hell? She never did my sewing!

Roxi –  You gotta be home for her to do that, Nicole.

Nicole –  Well, I’m home now. At least, somewhat close to it. I’m gonna head back to my place, and then I will give mom a call, let her know I’m back, and if she needs anything she can call me. And when I can, I’ll head over there.

Roxi –  Thanks. Please be careful out there. This virus thing isn’t a joke.

Nicole –  Look, if I gotta facetime her every day until I can get over there, I will. You don’t have to worry. I’m back, and I’ll take care of things.

Roxi –  I really appreciate it.

Nicole –  What are sisters for?

Roxi –  Many things.  Oh wait…  One second.

{Roxi motions for Nate to come to the phone and he looks into and sees Nicole.}

Nicole –  Hi buddy!

Nate –   It’s aunt Nikki!

Nicole –  Are you on the big ship?

Nate –   Uh-uh!

Nicole –  That’s pretty sweet. You gonna take lots of pictures?

Nate –   Uh… I don’t know.

Nicole –  Well, that’s okay. You wanna know a secret?

Nate –   Okay.

Nicole –  I got you some presents from my trip.

Nate –   For me?!

Nicole –  Yup. I’ll come over soon and we’ll play lot of games!

Nate –   Okay! Yay!

Nicole –  Okay buddy!

Nate –   Okay, bye!

{Nate walks away abruptly, causing Nicole and Roxi to laugh.}

Roxi –  Well, He’s done with you, I guess.

Nicole –  Must be.

Roxi –  Anyway, I’ve gotta go find Keira before she tried to eat the whole ship.

Nicole –  Alright.

Roxi –  You enjoy quarantine.

Nicole –  Har har har.

Roxi –  Alright, talk to you soon.

Nicole –  Yup. Take is easy. Don’t work too hard.

Roxi –  Very funny.

Nicole –  Bye!

{Roxi ends the call and looks over at Nate, grabbing her key to the room.}

Roxi –  Come on Baby, we need to go find Mommy.

Nate –   Okay.

{Roxi takes Nate by the hand, and leads him out of the room, and onto the deck. They look out at the water, Roxi finally having just some time to really be at peace. There she was, with her son, on a beautiful cruise. For Roxi, it was a nice calm, but she also knew, it was the calm before the storm. She tried her best to relax and enjoy the time with Nate as the scene fades.}


<Hr>


"I vowed to protect the innocent. I promised that no one would suffer if I could do anything to stop it. I've lived this years to be a guardian to the entire city. But there's little I can do against disease and natural disasters. A lost cause can become a fool's errand. I'm still only human. I did what was humanly possible. I hope you don't think I've failed in my promise. And I renew that promise now. Mother...Father...As long as there's breath in my body I am an instrument of justice. Justice for you. Justice for all. I only hope you can forgive me my failures. Because I'm not sure I can forgive myself."
- Batman (Detective Comics Vol 1 724)


Hello SCW.

As this day gets closer and closer, all I hear from people is that I’m in for the fight of my life. That perhaps, my career is in jeopardy because of who I am facing. That maybe, this is where Roxi Johnson faces something that she’s never faced before. And that maybe, this is it. That Amber Ryan is going to end my career or something close to it. After all, she blinded me for two days, and she’s proud of that fact. She pleased and amused that she was able to cause me great bodily harm. This is what I’m facing. Not a person, but a force of nature. I’m facing a woman who will stop at nothing if it means that she gets what she wants. And most importantly, they say I made a huge mistake demanding this match be no disqualification. Because I’m not ready for what Amber Ryan is bringing to Summer XXXtreme.

Now it’s no secret that Amber has changed many things. She made me appreciate what I took for granted, and made me not want to play on my drums, when that was always some solace for me. She’s made me question a number of things about myself, and how things will be in the future.

But I think that perhaps, some of those people seem to have forgotten just who I am, and what I’ve been through.

You have watched me SCW. For the past 7 years. For 7 of the 10 years I have wrestled, I have been here. And we have grown up together. You have seen people attack me, you have seen people chase me with a chainsaw… multiple times I might add. You’ve seen me form and be part of the best tag team in SCW history. You watched me rise up to face a legend in this business with no fear.  The point is, you watched me overcome situation, after situation, time after time. You have seen me fall, and you have seen me rise. And no matter what has knocked me down, I have gotten back up. I’m still standing after everything that has happened to me in my entire career. I don’t mean to brag, it is not my intention. It is a simple statement of fact. Multiple statements to be clear. I would have never thought I needed to sit here and list my accomplishments, but here we are. It’s a new monster, a new bad guy, and it may be the type of fighter that you guys haven’t seen my face down. You may not fully understand why I made the request, especially after what happened. It may have been a slight bit of anger and frustration, but rest assured, while you may not fully grasp it, I do.

Because like Amber herself, I’ve been watching, and planning for this for a long time.

4 years ago, Amber and I were in the same place at the same time. We crossed paths, but nothing ever came of it. But it has always been in the back of my mind that one day, perhaps one day, our paths would cross and we would be standing in the same ring across from each other. And now, that day has come. But I wouldn’t be the person I am if I wasn’t paying attention to exactly what I am up against. I know what I’m facing. And while there is a lot of truth to what the people who are genuinely concerned for my well-being, it is not going to be this match, on this night, that ends anything for me.

All the times I’ve said I know Amber, and that I know what she’s capable of, it wasn’t a psyche out attempt on Amber. It was simply due diligence. Because I’m not dumb. I know that Amber is a dangerous person. I know that this is her wheel house. She can use any toy she wants to try and hurt me. I wasn’t expecting to walk into a match with Amber Ryan and not walk out without some pain and suffering. I’m fully prepared for that. The thought of pain is already etched in stone for this match. I’m going to get hurt. I accept that. But let’s also understand that Amber Ryan is going to experience pain herself. I get that she is probably used to it. She’s the champion of a company called Carnage, I’ve watched her wrestle many, many times. I know that she isn’t a stranger to pain. But I am not out of my element. You’ve seen me do this, and you know that I’ve been through wars, and I’m still standing.

The question I have wrestled with for the past week, as I reflect on what has happened, is one that I have never really asked before. Because there has always been a line. A line that doesn’t get crossed. Because those who formed my thought process told me, that there was a clear right and wrong in the universe and the distinction is not hard to make. What Amber Ryan did by trying to burn my face was wrong. Clearly. I know this, and many other do too. And then again, some agreed with what happened and that, maybe I got a little karma for treating Amber the way I did.

I can explain my position a thousand times over and it won’t make any difference to Amber, or others. I can tell you that this was going to happen eventually anyway, maybe not a fireball, but this match. And let’s be real here for a moment, this shouldn’t have been a normal match. It was never headed that way. Regardless of what Amber wants to say, we were not going to wind up in a simple wrestling match to see who the better “Wrestler” is. This has been brewing for far too long to be settled that way. It was inevitable that when Amber and I did fight, that the rules would only prohibit us from doing what needs to be done.

And so, I return to the question at hand. The age old question of “How far is too far?” What exactly is over the line at this point? I mean, getting a fireball to the face would probably rank pretty far on the too far scale, but I’ve never wanted to go down the path of eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth. Burning Amber’s face isn’t going to solve anything in the long run. Because I can already tell, that this isn’t going to simply end on the boat. We are not about to go our separate ways and call bygones or anything close to that. No, we’ve gone far beyond that. But I sit here and I wonder what the heck I’m going to have to do to even think I’ve drawn even. And I have to wonder what Amber thinks even would be in this situation, considering she’s hell bent on trying to defame me or something.

Because apparently, Amber Ryan is insecure.

I didn’t think I would ever say that, but the simple fact that now, everything is my fault, and there’s an excuse for everything now. It’s never her fault, it’s someone else’s fault now. I mean, that’s some crazy levels of projection. I’ve seen this before. Dealt with it before. Amber Ryan is projected her own short-comings on to me. I didn’t think it would ever be this type of revelation, but it is. I mean, whatever happened to the days of the clear bad guy? The guy who robs the bank and shares no remorse for his actions. The person who accepts that they are evil and just goes with it? When did all turn into “this person made me do it.” Amber knows that right now, she got what she wanted, and she’ll accept that. Because when it’s good, it’s an “I” thing. When it’s bad, it has to be outside forces. Perhaps that’s too much psychoanalysis at this point. Are we really even trying to justify things right now? Why am I bothering? Amber Ryan tried to burn my face off, of course revenge is totally justified.

I simply wonder if anything is too far at this point. I wonder if I try and break an arm or a leg, would that be too far? If I made Amber bleed like a hog, would that be too far? Because I now take into consideration that this is what Amber is expecting. And I know people have told me that hitting her with a weapon doesn’t make me a bad person, nor does it make me like Amber. And that part, I’m still struggling with. Because I know, despite all of this, that the moment I go over that line, even an inch, Amber is claiming victory. Regardless of the outcome.

I didn’t want it to end up that way, but that’s where we are now. Any little victory is a victory. I would have much preferred if Amber Ryan had just told me she was going to take me out and dedicated her time to doing so. But this charade about being a good person and trying to get me accept her as a good person really feels… almost beneath Amber. Because let’s face, Amber Ryan didn’t need to do that entire act. She didn’t need to try and gain my trust, but she got her jollies from trying to manipulate me, and my family, and people I respect and that respect me.  So now… the penalty must be paid for that.

I have to admit that it makes me feel good that so many are concerned for me. That they care that much to give me advice or even a warning. But as many have learned over the years, that are doing the exact same thing that Amber is doing right now, my kindness, is not a weakness.

I try to be a good person. I try be caring and look after my fellow man. Because I was raised that it was the right thing to do. But I completely understand the world isn’t black and white, I get there are plenty of grey areas in life that require all of us to choose the lesser of two evils at times. And it is a situation like this that challenges how I go about things.

But that doesn’t mean that I am incapable of being angry, or upset. I able to go to places I rarely visit emotionally. Those things happen to me like they do everyone else. I just chose to not let those emotions override everything else. I made the choice to be in control of my emotions, not the other way around. Does it slip sometimes? Yes. I never said I was perfect, or that I didn’t make mistakes. I’ve made plenty I of course have my share of regrets. But that has not defined who I am, nor what I am capable of.

I went to that dark place before. I went to that place that allowed me to be more aggressive and to be less forgiving and less understanding. It allowed me to actually enjoy what I am capable of doing to people. And for a long time I swore up and down that I would never go back. I may have been fooled myself into thinking that maybe I did go back there a couple of times in the recent years. But I made a promise to my wife that I would never fully go back to that place and let it consume me. Because that wouldn’t be good for anyone. I lost sight of what was important back then, and I lost a lot of things, and nearly lost more.

But this time, it feels like that all too familiar feeling of years past.

But last time was different for one big reason. I wasn’t aware last time that this is where I would end up. I was unprepared for the consequences and what decision that were made would do. I didn’t even know I was going to fall into this dark place, so I wasn’t ready for when that darkness embraced me. Yes, I made a promise to never go back, but I just want all of you to understand that I will be headed there, but I will come back.

I will be headed to that dark place, but I will not allow it to consume me. That was my promise to my wife, and I will uphold that promise. But if you’re asking me to do what I know needs to be done, then this is the result. This needs to be done. And at the end of this, it will be worth it.

To my son, I want you to just understand that mommy is just playing a game. You may see Mommy do some bad things that we have always taught you not to do. You may see Mommy actively trying to hurt another person, please do not try to do this. We have raised you to never hit or hurt someone because you think you should. Fighting isn’t the answer in most cases. Mommy and Mama sometimes just have to fight when there is no other choice. We just hope that you listen to this and know that everything is going to be okay. And you will understand more of this, when you’re older.

To my wife, you have stood by me through a lot. I have done the same for you. But we also understand that some things, you just have to do alone. I thank you for staying on the sidelines in this while it played itself out. This, is my fight. Once that’s been brewing for a long, long time. I don’t need the collateral damage on either side. I don’t need you to get hurt, nor do I want Amber to have any excuses. This fight is mine, and mine alone. Just like with Nate, I want you to know that at the end of this, it will be okay, and it will be worth it. I promise. But you know as well as I, this is going to be worse, before it gets better.

And to Amber herself…

I know you’re ready. I know you’re licking your chops ready to do all the damage you can muster. I just want you to know that you are going to have to KILL me to win this war. It’s not me that doesn’t know what they’re getting into. It’s you. You don’t understand what I’m really capable of. You want to fight Amber? I will fight you. I will fight you until my lungs no longer draw breath. I said before that I didn’t start this fight, but that I will finish it. So I hope that YOU are prepared. Because what you have started, isn’t going to end on Sunday. Not even beating you in the ring will really settle this. You know that as well as I do. But you need to understand that you started something that you won’t be able to finish. No matter what you, or what you think is going to stop me, it’s not going to happen. You may, in fact, like so many other, knock me down. But I will be damned if you’re going to keep me down. Because I’ve wanted this fight just as much as you do. And now we’re here. We’re here and there no more time for speculating or dreaming about what could be.

It’s here. Dream match. Roxi Johnson vs. Amber Ryan.

As the old saying goes…. It’s not about who’s right, just who’s left. And what will be left of them.

See you soon, Amber.