She Hates Flowers
Scene One | Off-Camera | 1st March 2023
“Lu, it’s been weeks. You’ve got to let me in eventually.
The sound of the door latch clicking, the slide bolt being slid open. The twist of the door handle and the slight movement inwards to show it was open. Alex breathed deeply, and pushed the door open. Luna had quickly retreated from the door and slumped herself back down into a pile on the couch. The room had a slightly stale smell to it, clearly not having been opened or aired out in a few days. Alex stepped into the apartment, a crystal rose encased in a nice glass jar in hand. He placed it upon the kitchen counter near the entry, and stepped in.
“Ignoring me is one thing, but ignoring James? That’s not like you.”
“I just want to wallow.”
Alex shook his head slightly, and slowly moved over to her, leaning down on the back of the couch. One of his hands going to her head, his fingers lightly touching her hair. Softly stroking her hair.
“Sometimes. I like to wallow too. I want to hide from world. I want to pretend that everything means nothing, and that. That nobody cares, you know? I spent a long time, wallowing Lu. I spent a long, long time wallowing. Even now, there is days where I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t, want to be here anymore, you know?”
One of her hands reached up, linking her fingers with his, stopping him stroking her hair. Holding their hands together, fingers interwoven. Her grip was steely, her hands warm. A grip that she wasn’t going to let go. Squeezing with affection.
“You were right. I’m not ready. I wasn’t even close to being ready. I should’ve listened to you. I failed, lover.”
Alex squeezed her hand in response, maneuvering his way around the couch, and lifting her up. She stayed mostly limp in his arms, as he slowly placed himself down on the couch. It felt like he’d sat in a wet patch. Tears, he assumed. She did cry a lot. She nestled down, resting her head on his lap, still with linked hands.
“No, Lu. Do you remember, when James and I started? God. I was fucking awful. Six, maybe seven months until Remi took me under his wing. I couldn’t lace my own boots, let alone even think about getting a win. But it’s not failure. There’s a difference, you know? There’s a difference between failure, and losing. Losing, it happens. Even the best in the world, can lose. Even the best of the best, will have days where they just don’t succeed. But it’s not failure.”
“What’d you bring?”
“A crystal rose.”
“I fucking hate flowers. Real or fake.”
“Failing, is giving up. Failing, is getting knocked down and staying there. Failing is telling me I was right. Because I’m not. I’m not right about a lot of things, Lu. You know, when you’re ready. Not me. I’m just a spiteful old prick, you know? And I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want to see you cry. I don’t want to see you wallow. I don’t want to see you like this, because of me.”
She turned over, looking up at him. Bleary and red eyed, snotty and dried out. And he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Because just seeing her, made all his own worries go away. Just for a little while.
“Don’t ever buy me fucking flowers again.”
She raised her free hand, and cupped his face. She truly was, melting his heart of ice.
Freedom to Hunt
Scene Two | On-Camera | 2nd March 2023
Freedom to hunt.
An old two person bench painted with a faded red. Red paint is peeling from age, showing the lightened wood beneath. Alexander Raven is sitting on the bench wrapped up in a thick coat, a scarf wrapped tightly around neck, sitting just below his mouth. His eyes off in the distance, the cold wind whipping rapidly through the air, flicking his hair around his head. The bench is sitting on the porch of an old looking cabin, long without care. The wood still strong, but aged in the elements.
“We’ve come full circle, Ken. After I lost the Roulette championship, there was an opportunity presented to me. Redemption for failure, with an ascension to the top. I took the loss as an opportunity. Freedom to hunt. Freedom to take what I wanted, aim my gaze where I felt to aim it. No restrictions, nobody telling me what I needed to do. It resonated with you. Mutual respect borne of an idea of freedom. Everything to prove, and nothing to lose. That was my mind. That was the way I saw things. The way that I envisioned things. Yet the truth was far deeper than that. The truth extended far more than just the simplicity of freedom. I called out to the baying wolves, and the biggest one answered. Tried to put me out, broke my nose, and took me to a new limit. Yet, bonding maintained for us because of it Ken. One of only a few that even believed I had a chance at putting down the big bad wolf. One of fewer again that believed I had a chance when I called out Fenris. Yet that is where the tale of the hunt changes. For I realised something. I realised that in having the power to decide my fate, I had the freedom. The freedom to hunt.”
He lifts his hands up to his head, running his fingers through his hair. Pulling his hair up tightly, slipping a hair tie from his wrist and tying his hair up into a high bun. Pulling it loose and fanning it out a little. His eyes distant, his mind elsewhere.
“I became the hunter. I became the one with the choice to make. The one with the decisions to guide. It was in this, a reality was born. A fundamental truth. I could right the wrongs of my past, I could be free to hunt those I wished, and in turn slash the throat of dying kings and bleed them into the flames that would mould the steel that will build my legacy. For a king that fights, is far more than the monarch that sits idly behind the protection of swords and shields of knights and militia. Do you understand this ideology, Ken? I didn’t pick King James personally, but I picked the fight with the wolves. I poked the proverbial bear. And one bit back. I was unhappy with the silence that came. The mocking that followed, and bullying. The bullies who throw their weight around like it means something. Throw their weight around like it gives them some authority on the power of their existence here. So I took aim at the biggest bully of them all. The one who sits there and pretends to be holier than thou. That pretends to be a bigger man than all the others. Who uses the threat of his anger as validation for his misbehaviour. I took aim at Fenris, and I made him the prey. Hunting the hunter, because I have the freedom to do it. The freedom to hunt. Miles Kasey, O’Malley, two mistakes, two missteps in my past. Rectified because I chose to. I chose the kings who needed to be beheaded. I chose the wolves that needed to be culled. I am the hunter. For I have the freedom to hunt. Alexander Raven is the hunter of Sin City. I am on track to be one of the longest reigning Internet Champions in history. Lofty ambition does not distract, for it is the ambition itself that will guide the path of truth. But does it matter? I talk a lot. People complain that I talk too much. That I pretend to be more than I am. Do you know the truth, Ken? I talk, because everybody else does. I talk, but I listen. I listen to what they have to say. I listen to things said. I learn, I understand. I grow. Growth is what defines the difference between the hunter and the hunted. The hunter and the prey. The difference between being a predator and food for the hungry.”
“So I talk. Perhaps this time, you will listen. You will understand. You will follow. I need you to understand, Ken. I need you to follow. I need you to do this, because this is more than just a reversal of roles. This is a reversal of fate. This is a proving ground, for Alexander Raven. This is the ultimate test. Can the hunter kill the hunter? Can the hunter stop the predator in their tracks? Can Alexander Raven stop Ken Davison? Can the Messiah change the word of the Gods themselves? The False Prophet, will he deliver a prophecy of truth? Godly. I would not pretend to be more than I am. I am naught but a man. I naughty but another person who eat, sleeps, bleeds and dies. Yet, I will not fall quietly. I will not step aside for the sanity of another. I will not step aside for the sanity of those who do not want to listen. I am but a man, and in my humanity, in my mortality. I prove the ultimate truth. That those who would walk among us, believing themselves deities, rulers or magnates beyond their station. Humbled they will be. Humbled because I will humble them. Humbled because they will feel the truth of their own mortality. Humbled because they will be made to understand that they are not special. We are not special, Ken. We are but mortal men, ready to bleed for the truths we delude our minds with. Ready to fight and bruise for the delusions that we create to manipulate the eyes of those on us. I talk, for the people will listen. I talk because I do not believe myself to be silenced. I talk, because I will stand with them. I am the King who will raise all others to their opus. To the peak. For I am more than that. I am the beginning and the end. I am the Alpha and the Omega, for in me, the truth begins. And in me, the stained glass lies end.”
Alex stands up slowly from the bench. The wood creaking and groaning as he stands up. Hands sliding into his pockets, his eyes falling to the ground in front of him. The snow dusted world beyond the porch, a barrier between the two worlds. The croak of birds, as a set of ravens fly in, landing just in front of Alexander. A small smile spreading across his face, his mind still far away.
“I am a spiteful man, Ken. You of all people should know that. I am a man who holds grudges, and refuses to relinquish them. Whether that will be my downfall or not is neither here nor there. But what it does mean, is this. You took a win over me. You put me down for the three, and in that you dashed my immediate chances of becoming the unexpected SCW Worlds Champion. I cannot forgive these transgressions. Vindication for my failures is a requirement of my path to the top. To the sky above. And yes, it is easy to cast blame back at me for my own shortcomings. I’ve never been one to shy away from my failures. I am not delusional enough to believe that I above the real truth. What is the case however, is that the sleight against me remains the same. You hold a victory over me, and for that, I must make things right. And so, I offer to you, a choice. Do you stand against me, Ken and prepare yourself to ascend the throne once more? Do you end my pilgrimage here before I can avenge all my failings. Show the truth that Alexander Raven is smoke and mirrors? I wonder Ken. Are you focused enough to succeed, or are your shortcomings going to distract your mind? Push you to a place where the focus becomes less so. Push you to a place where the lack of focus becomes the issue. I want you at your best, Ken. For I want there to be no doubts. That the hunter that is Alexander Raven, is ready to ascend to the upper echelon. To fight the kings that stand above. To humble those who think themselves, Saviors. For there will be no saviours in the world that is coming. Biblical is the path of the kings who would rule the world.”
“But I will not be the tyrant who holds dictatorship above all. No, for I am the leader that shall raise the broken masses to the mountaintop. For where we will touch the Stained Glass Lies themselves, and push through the cracking visage of failings. A change is needed, and I will be that change. I am that change. I am the hunter who hunts. I am the king, who leads. I am the one who will show that Wolf, Hero or Savior, it matters not. For the ways of the past will be changed in the form of the future. The Conspiracy is here, and despite the irony of it, we are not a tin-foil hat wearing, raving lunatics. No, The Conspiracy is all who would stand for truth. And so, even if I do respect you, Ken. I will not stand for distortions of that. No, I will bleed you as a martyr for my cause. For all good must come from sacrifice. For all good, requires the spilling of life. For in the flames of retribution, the blood of Wolf, Deity and Hero-Kings will mix. When it all comes together, they will all bleed for Alexander Raven.”
He kneels down slowly, removing a small lighter from his pocket. The birds continue to potter around, pecking at the snowy ground, flicking snow into the air and at each other. Croaking and cawing at each other as the two birds play.
“Fret not, Ken. It is a honour that you have before you. It is an honour that you have this opportunity before you. For this honour is one that is reserved for those whose bodies, bones and blood will pave the path to the truth. My truth. The fundamental truth. The truth, that at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter the affiliation. It doesn’t matter the belief. It doesn’t matter the bluster, the lies, and the confidence. At the end of the day, the only thing that separates us, Ken. The only thing that separates any of us, is our fucking arrogance. Arrogant, mindless creatures. Fearing nothing but own death. For death is what truly makes our contributions final. In death, there is no more. The faces will be carved into the mountain, and if we do not stake our claim in life. Then our spirits shall never rest in peace. For some it is the arrogance of self. For others it is the arrogance of disbelief. The origin of the arrogance doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I don’t care what leads anyone to thinking themselves better than they are. I don’t care what leads anyone to thinking they are worth more than the muck that they shift through. The fucking arrogance of it all, is what bothers me. And I do not appreciate the arrogance, Ken.”
His eyes narrow, picking up a handful of snow and throwing it towards the birds. Both of them flying off, screeching as they flap their wings rapidly. He swipes his hands back and forth, brushing the snow to the side. Pushing it further and further away. A piece of wood, spindly, ancient and iced beneath the surface. Alex lifts the piece of wood from the ground, and sparks the lighter, holding it to the piece. Allowing the flames to lap and lick at the wood.
“The arrogance to call me out. To have faltered in your conquests, and to direct your ire at me. To spit upon the good will I have shown in allowing you to continue on with the mark against my name. The unholy, ungodly mark against my name. Alexander Raven was beaten clean by Ken Davison and then put out of action by Austin James Mercer. I did not demand retribution. I let sleeping dogs lie, for I had other desires. I had other focuses. I had other desires. Yet, here you stand before me. Arrogant. Demanding my attention. Demanding the attention, like I demanded the attention of the bully Fenris. Like I forced the attention of Miles Kasey and O’Malley. What right do you have to be the hunter, Ken? No. There is no right. It’s arrogance, through and through, and I do not appreciate it. And so…”
A small flicker, an ember. Part of the wood beginning to catch.
“I must now forsake the respect, for one night. For I must be the teacher, the hunter and the predator. The messenger of death, like the namesake I hold. I am more than just a bird of opportunity. The Magpie is a docile bird, but for one part of the year they are bloodthirsty. Swooping, attacking and violent. Without provocation, they attack. Go for the eyes, carve flesh with their beak. The Raven, though noble and approachable. It will pick flesh from bone. Strip a carcass, strip it down to its very core and leave it to bleach in the sun. The raven can see through time, through the veil that separates our world from the next. And in the understanding of death, a freedom. No arrogance. No ire. No disrespect. Just truth. Fundamental truth. Are you listening still, Ken? I need you to listen to this, very carefully.”
The wood now flaming on the side where the lighter was being held. He pockets the lighter quickly and steps forward, holding the small ebbing flame in front of him, at arms length. Three, four, five steps. Leaning down, he slowly places the piece on the floor. The flaming tendrils snapping at something beneath the snow, trailing rapidly along a shape in the snow.
“Understand this, Ken. I will not stand for fucking arrogance. I will not stand for bullies. I will not stand for those who think themselves better than me. I will not stand for those who think themselves better than anyone. Godly. I refuse to get biblical on you, Ken, for it is not the truth of your name. Less a man of revelations, and more a believer in the power of oneself. I do not believe in you, Ken. I believe in the broken. I believe in the false. And I believe in the one truth. I am the Broken Messiah, the voice of the broken. I am the False Prophet, the man who will speak the fallacies of the Stained Glass Lies into the world to be absolved in my truth. I am the One True King, for I do not belittle. I am king, because I was chosen to be. I am King, for all people can be king. I am the One Truth, the Broken and the False. I am, Alexander Raven. And at Blaze of Glory. I will beat the arrogance out of you. I will make a point of it. I will not live in the shadow of saviours. I will not live in the shadow of my past. I will be the forward light that cleanses the failures of my past. I will be, King. One and only. And once I purge the arrogance from you. Once I purge the filth from your mind, you will know. That this Alexander Raven. We will do anything to fix the errors of this Sin City. The ways of the past, will be burned away for the ways of the future. For my future. I will be Internet Champion, and then, I will be World Champion. I will stand atop that mountain, and I will change my past. You, Ken. You will be the blood that I spill in that cause. Do you understand?”
Alex slowly steps away, a low fire burning a shape into the ground. A bird, a raven. A visage of a raven in flames. And on the raven’s head, a crown. Alex makes his way back to the cabin, and sits on the bench once more.
“The Conspiracy will reveal all.”
And then…
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.
