“The word of the week, pretentious. In a world full of actions, behaviours and languages, every person falls back to the same. Pretentious. Arty, gaudy, elaborate, grandiose, pompous, extravagant. Take your pick, they act as nothing but examples of the same. Vainglorious attitude. To spit upon the man who begs naught but deeper thought than the surface, is to mock the beggar who wishes for nothing more than an education. La-di-da so say the weak. Look at that tasteless overblown poncy fancy pants. And yet, none of it expands upon their inability to comprehend their own insecurity. To lash out and break down, to pull together the dregs of their own pack. A pack of wolves they are. For when the pup cries, they all come running.”
“Miles Kasey.”
The lowlight of the late evening sun reflects of the glittering water surface. Bhardwaj Lake, a couple hours out of New Delhi. Alexander Raven sits on the edge of the sand, near the lake water. Fluttering about in the lowlight colourful arrays of butterflies. Rabbits make their scratching and noises in the distance, the low chatter of wild creatures dancing lightly upon the wind. Raven’s eyes are fixated on the water surface a few metres in front of him, transfixed. His eyes seemingly distant, his mind far away from his body. Slow, steady breathing brings his chest up and down. The heavy breathing in through his nose whistling slightly.
“Do you know what they call this lake, Miles? Death Valley, some call it. The locals, they call it Khooni Jheel. It means bloody lake. There’s even some that consider this lake a curse. That three human sacrifices are required every year. It’s interesting that here in New Delhi, we come across a location steeped in myth, blood and violent mythology. Perhaps even more interesting is the suggestions about those who would make the journey here. Do not swim, do not go alone. Do not take valuables, and be aware that you are unwelcome. Perhaps one of the more hostile places on this tour. I wonder, Miles. Do you feel confident stepping outside your boundaries? Are you pretentious enough, to think yourself above the suggestions of safety? Here, in New Delhi we make a choice. A choice to completely throw caution to the wind. We have been given the platform to set the tone for all of Violent Conduct Eight. We are expected to do something that would make those who fear Death Valley, see it as nothing but a fairy tale in comparison to the brutality of that which we will inflict upon each other. Do you understand, Miles? Violence is the language expected of us, and whilst I dig and belittle. Whilst I sit upon my high horse and look down upon you and all your little wolf friends I do so for good reason. I need you riled up, Miles. I need you angry, I need you with a focus. Defending Zoey’s honour. Defending the honour of your wolves. Standing up for yourself. Something. I need you to have passion, I need you to have a god damn focus.”
“If you would just listen. If everybody would just listen for once, they’d hear what I’m saying. Nothing I say is cryptic. Nothing I say is to analyse or extrapolate upon someone. If what I say seems pretentious, than so be it. I will accept my pretentious nature if it means that somebody will give me something. If it means that you’ll give me the challenge I so desire. Here, in New Delhi. Just a few hours from this place of blood, death and misery. Of violence, robbery and danger. This Bloody Lake should mirror the rivers of blood that will flow from your very flesh and bone. Are you listening to me Miles? Do you understand?”
“They never understand!”
The last words roar from deep in Raven’s chest. Agitation causes his brow to crease. His hands balling into fists as he rises to his feet. His eyes staring off into the distance still. The once peaceful butterflies now a distant memory as they flutter away. The sounds of creature and critter now falling silent. Just the gentle breeze, the soft lap of water and the orange tinged surface of the setting sun. Bawling his fists tighter still the flesh turning white as the blood is forcefully drained into the extremities. He presses the fists to either side of his head, pushing inwards, shaking his head slowly.
“Violence, Miles. You do not understand it. I know you don’t. You think you’re simply entering into another match. Entering into a place where you get to finally get your hands on me. I need you to understand, that the raking of my words across your flesh, has reason. I need you angry, I need you emotional. Because I need you to want to hurt me, Miles. I need you violent. I need you to be ready to bleed out in the centre of that damn ring, should the gods and heavens wish it. I need you to be this way because if you aren’t. If you aren’t ready to end my career Miles, I will hurt you beyond anything you’ve ever felt. Focus, I have found. You mention that I was silent following my loss. You’re right, I was silent. Not because I was lapping my wounds. Not because I was sorry for myself, or hiding. Jack was the better man on the night, and that’s fine. Sometimes you just don’t step up, and that’s okay. What you need to understand Miles. What you need to understand is that I wasn’t hurting. I was exploring this land. I was visiting places in search of her light. In search of hand, and her forgiveness. A sign from her to guide me, to give me the knowledge I need. My silence was my journey of discovery. For someone who is so focused on identification of their own soul, you seem to lack the ability to comprehend the journeys that other may be on.”
“In the place of death, I spread her ashes. In this lake of blood, I will spread hers. At Violent Conduct, I will bleed, as she bled. For I have discovered my purpose, my focus, my understanding. I am flawed, this is the truth. Delusional, lost and unfocused I have been. Delusional I will be, and flawed I will remain. Imperfections are what makes the world beautiful. Unlike diamonds we will not last forever. Unlike diamonds we will one day fade from this earth. Unlike diamonds, we are flawed. But I have discovered. As I searched this land in search of myself. In search of her guidance an understanding. That emotions shouldn’t be suppressed. That the broken, needing guidance in all things. That the broken will continue flock to their Messiah, whether willingly or unknowingly. Those seeking baptism in blood will find the One True King, and in his False Prophecies they will find the truth. The understanding that this is the ultimate truth.”
Raven has a smile creep across his face, laughter rumbling out of him. A deep, heaving and authentic laugh. Happy, yet also pained. His eyes remain open, his body bending at the mid section as he heaves over laughing.
“Words, Miles. That’s all it is. Words. The reality is this. The more I speak, the more people will deny listening. The more I speak, the more opinions they will form. Accuse me of being poetic, when no poetry have I ever recited. Accuse me of being pretentious, when I’ve never done anything but point out their own hypocrisy. The ultimate truth is this. The more they deny it. The more you deny it, Miles. The more denial the truer it becomes. Every step of the way, the more they deny caring the more they do. On the drop of a hat, reaction. I say something, and everyone suddenly has an opinion. Fenris, Zoey, Finn, whoever that Dick is. Even the returning chaser of golden glory himself Lachlan Kane. Everyone reacts. A wolf pack? Hardly. Juveniles and children react the same. Violent reaction to those who poke and prod. The ultimate truth? You, and every damn one of you Wolves are exactly the filth I intend to purge.”
“The incestuous mixing of this city of sin. I’ve spoken at length of it for months now. I’ve spoken of my desire to shake the foundations, to shatter the stained glass sky of lies and bring the reality to all that inhabit this sinful city. I’ve found my purpose, and it comes at the beheading of all mangy mutts. I’ve put Finn down, and he flounders to have any level of acceptable relevance now. Thinking the world owes him anything, but completely lost in his own enforced insecurity. Fenris got one up on me. I won’t deny it. That man is one of the best I’ve stepped in the ring with. Yet I’m still here, and he lulls in the sidelines. Coming to the defense of his alcoholic little puppy. Zoey screams for my attention, and resorts to juvenile antics when I refuse to give her the attention she demands. Careful Miles, for she had no qualms in being immoral in acquiring you. How long before those screams for attention, become screams of affection? You, Miles. I will break. I will hurt. I will bleed. If I so need to, I will bend, break and flay. I know what I must do. In my hands I hold the gold. In my hands, I hold the wheel of fate itself. In my hands, ultimate bloody violence.”
His jaw clenched tightly, screaming out at the sky above. Birds in the distance flying away in a screech. He thumps his fists into side of his head, doing so over and over. Not hard enough to knock himself silly, but enough to start to cause blood to well to the temples in red splotches. He does this a few more times before slamming his fists together and falling to his knees, staring up into the sky once more.
“The purge of the filth that infests this place, begins with you, Miles. Continues with your demise, and ends with the eradication of your filthy, grotesque and manipulative little lair of wolves. Jumping at any sound, snarling at any threat, and strangle-holding anything that you can get your hands on. If there is anything I respect, it is the power of those outside of your little pack of mongrels. Those who continue to rattle and shake the foundations, and throw the stones to reveal the reality beyond the stained glass lies. But the truth, the reality must remain thus. Violence becomes us, and violence ends us. By my hand alone, you will be blooded. By my hand alone, you will be ended. I want you angry Miles. So that in the moment of defeat. As you fade from consciousness, you are innately aware of this one truth. The truth that the Broken Messiah, the False Prophet and the One True King never once lied. That the reality I painted and handed to you, was the truth that I spoke it to be.”
His hands slowly fall from his head, palms falling open. His eyes held to the sky above him. His eyes suddenly very hollow, empty. His face slackens and the creased agitation now gone. Slowly he raises his left hand, palm upturned and reaches out in front him, seemingly reaching for someone. Softness covers his eyes, his mind once again far away.
“She will forgive me. For she has shown me what I need to do. She hands me the stones, and guides their arc. In her, my anger is justified. In her, my anger is guided. No longer suppressed but put upon the path of focus and destination. Understanding, acceptance and forgiveness. She will forgive me for the atrocities I will inflict in my journey to cleanse the filth that breaks my Conspiracy. My Conspiracy will feed upon the carcasses of dead mutts, and in my offering of sustenance. In my offering of a truth and future. In my guidance to my kingdom, my Conspiracy grows. All those that flock, will be gifted with the sight of truth. No more lies, no more delusions of the Stained Glass Sky. This Sin City will no longer be marred with the filth that the wolves spread upon it. No more. In her light, in her forgiveness, the truth. Blood for blood, and no longer will she shun me for it. I understand now, the truth she always bestowed. That the blood was not the issue, but the disappointment of my own failures. The disappointment was the tears that were cried, not the pain I received because of it. The promises were not broken in bleeding again.”
A deep inhale, and a slow exhale. Slowly he stands, pulling a small necklace from under his shirt, a small red bottle attached it it. He slowly uncorks it and dabs a finger into it. The tip of it now red. He runs the finger down his forehead and onto his nose, leaving a small streak of red. Recorked and returned under his shirt, he snaps his fingers.
Darkness.
The flick of a switch, the sound of a globe clicking to life. The Roulette Championship sitting upon a small wooden end table. Alexander Raven stands behind it, hands holding either side of the table. A single halogen bulb above head, buzzing in the desolate space, acting like a spotlight. Raven has a downward pointing white triangle painted over his mouth, the streak of red from forehead to the tip of his nose.
“Violent Conduct Eight, New Delhi. The Raven and Wolf pup meet once more. This time, the stakes are for the wheel of fate and chance itself. A game of chance, curated with blood. Miles, have you been listening? Do you finally understand? Have you been following me, Miles? If not, you will. Baptised in blood, and cleansed in fire. I will show you my reality. My truth. My understanding. Pretentious, Miles? Yes, I am pretentious in your eyes. I am vainglorious in the eyes of many. The truth, broken, flawed and false. As king I stand true. Cleansed will this city of sin be, and your blood with mark the shattering of the distortions cast by the stained glass sky over this city. The foundations will shatter, and be rebuilt with your flesh and bone. Truth, Miles.”
“For at the end, none can protect you from Alexander Raven. When that bell rings, you and I go to war. When the bell sounds again, I will stand tall. For above your waning body I stand, and you will acknowledge that I am the man. Truth, Miles. You are your namesake away from it. The beginning of my journey of understand, marks your end. You walk into Violent Conduct in New Delhi, but I can guarantee, your succubus will have to carry you out. Snarl and snicker, but know this. Beneath my boot you will fall. Her forgiveness rights me of any wrongs. Can you say the same of your wrongs? Deceptions of the heart, and immorality of behaviour. Juvenile antics and childish actions. Weak willed, and scared of being truthful. Weak, Miles. Will you walk through the Valley of Death? Can you face the truth, and truly accept your emotions? Denial betrays you, and in the end. You will follow. You will listen, and you will finally understand.”
Alex releases the table and wraps the fingers of both hands over the top of the championship belt. He grips it tightly and yanks it backwards as he steps into the darkness beyond the dim light.
“Have you understood me, Miles?”
The flick of a switch once more, and the light goes off.
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.
