MemoriesScene One | Off-Camera | 31st January 2023
For the first time in months, Alex finally had the apartment and the day, to himself. Whilst he didn’t wildly appreciate having Luna and James constantly in his home, he really did need a little time to himself. Luna had finally put in to paper. For Luna, this would be her debut year. At beck and call of The Conspiracy in the past, she’d taken the backseat to Alex, James, Sullivan and Harrison in the past. More a face of virtue and understanding, less an in-ring competitor. If Alex hadn’t been taken out for the second time by Alexander Remington, she’d probably be much further along. Loz may not have begged him to hang up the boots, and the boys may never have gotten so good at sling pints of piss across the bars of Australia.
Now, Luna had a chance to forge her own path. The Conspiracy was support, but it wasn’t a shield. Each battle was their own. Even if Luna would have liked to have gotten her hands on Zoey Lukas for the things that she had said to Alex previously, rules were rules. Nobody fought each others battles. You poke the bear, you fight it alone. The Conspiracy was a kingdom of learning, not an army. All were equal, but all were expected to be their own. James would come in time too, he was sure. But for the moment, he wanted to support his sister. He had different ideals, a different path. Different goals. The Phenomenal Barracuda would make himself known when it suited him and nobody else. Alex would give anything to run the ropes with his best friend, one more time. But truthfully, tag teams never were their strong point. Two big of egos, took too much of the spotlight. Not a cohesive unit, even at the best of times.
That wasn’t always the case. Alex was deeply in memories and thoughts of the past. Fenris had managed to crawl under his skin and frustrate him. People always seemed to think they knew who Alexander Raven. Fenris in particular seemed to think there was significance in his path because of where he is, rather than an acknowledgement of where people have been. An expectation of people to acknowledge his success but a refusal to accept the hypocrisy of his own statements. His hubris was his downfall in the end. And so, another former king had fallen to him. Regardless of the manner of victory, he had done what nobody expected. For the second time he had beaten the odds and shown himself better than the expectations. But the past was a torturous plague to him, at even the best of times.
Redemption for failures of the past, and the defilement of all former kings. Yet for some reason, Miles always brought him back to the past. Fenris has started the ball rolling, but now he found himself needing some introspection. So, that’s how Alexander Raven found himself sitting in an armchair in his bedroom. Across his lap were the UECW Tag Team Championships that he had won with Alexander Remington, in the first few months after signing with UECW. Alexander Remington, the long time and constant figurehead of UECW and who was their current World Champion ten years ago had sought him out. Had found the plucky, comic book and gaming obsessed youngster and opted to mould him into a future star. Someone with the ability to talk, to wrestle and to get under the skin of those who attempted to face him.
Yet there, on one of the championships was the tell-tale signs of his betrayal. Dented face plate, discolouration on the metal and strap. Blood never properly cleaned off. A month, maybe two, after they won the championships; he took the World Championship off Alexander Remington and attempted to end his career. He cracked him in the head with one of their tag team titles, and made a decision that would change the trajectory of his career; twice. A few months later, Griffin Hawkins avenged his friend at the time and took the UECW World Championship from him. A few years, and he won the inaugural world title of the new federation of the former head of UECW. And then it was taken again.
And even if any of them even cared, the same sentiment would follow. Fenris was undefeated and Alexander Raven was a failure. Fenris was a champion here in Sin City, and Alexander Raven was bumbling around with Bulldog Bill Barnhart. He has two wins over Finn Whelan, and a clean victory over Austin James Mercer in a steel cage. Hell, he even out-thought and out-wrestled Fenris in the end. And now, the one who was an ever prominent thorn in his side. Miles Kasey, was the runt that did naught but frustrate him. Took him off his game and managed to get under his skin. People will always look at his failures, and never the success. The success was greater than the failures. Yet it will never enough, and he understood. He understood it very well. But that was why he was stuck in his memories. So he continued to stare down at the tag team championships. The beginning of everything. The choices that would guide him to where he was today. Angry, and alone. Ready to take the fight to anyone and everyone, and the slightest sleights pushing him closer to the cliff every day. And then the voice came.
“You look pretty deep in thought there, bird-boy.”
Time suddenly felt like it had lurched years backwards but was completely still. His mind would often play tricks on him. Trauma had a funny way of bringing hallucinations to life. Sadness often tricked the mind with moments of happy delusion. The world had faded, and Alex found himself no longer sitting in his apartment. He was back on the River Ganges, the pyres burning in the distance. The night sky light by the flames leaping into it. Yet this time, there was no other boats. No other people. Just him, and Lauren. Sitting on the boat, floating on the inky blackness. A dream. He knew it had to be a dream. But…
“Luna seems older. More mature. I think I would’ve liked her like this, Alex.”
She sat across from him, just as he remembered. Her hair cascading down her shoulders and curling at the ends just before the elbows. Her eyes bright, shining and full of life. The slightest gap in her teeth, the gap she hated. The gap he loved. She smiled at him, and for a moment. For a moment he forgot it was a dream. He was lost in the depths of his mind.
“I miss you, Loz.”
“I know, baby. I know. I’ve seen how you’ve beaten yourself up. I’ve seen how you punish yourself. I don’t want to see you hurting, bird-boy.”
He reached forward, but his hands fell through her. Plunged into a dark world. She was the only light in the sprawling black that existed in every direction. The boat no longer held him, but it didn’t matter. He was floating in an empty world where she was the only light that mattered.
“I’m sorry. I tried to be the promises that we made. I tried, but. But this is who I am, you know? Without you, I’m lost Loz. I’m fucking lost.”
“It’s okay, Alex. You don’t need my forgiveness. You don’t need my approval. You need to live, for you. You need to live, Alex.”
“I don’t know how. I don’t know if I want to. I don’t know, Loz. I don’t know anything. I’m so lost, I’m always so lost.”
And then the world was empty. Her light gone. Everything gone. And then the laughter. The haunting, mocking laughter. The sound of the man he could never escape.
“Weak, timid and always seeking validation. Do you not tire of being so useless? No son of mine should ever be this pathetic. I taught you better than that. I taught you to be so much better than what you are.”
And there they were. Sitting at a small square wooden table, a discoloured yellow halogen light hanging above them. Their grossly off-white kitchen, with tobacco staining around the skirting boards and splotches on the ceiling. Alex sat opposite his father. A glass of amber liquid sat before the both of them. His father was resting upon the table, elbows pressed flushed and tight against the wood.
“You’d think, being my own dreams, you’d be nicer to me.”
“I’m just a figment of your own consciousness boy. I just happen to be the most logical voice in this whole little fantasy world that lives in your damned head. Weak, timid and seeking validation. Useless.”
Eyes locked, Alex lifted the glass to his mouth. His head hurt, his thoughts swirled. Every time he found himself in doubt, his mind would take him to dark places. And that dark place was always the same thing. His father, that kitchen and the taint of alcohol that took the once decent father from him and his mother.
“But here’s where I think I can help you, boy. Help with the doubts you have. Because you need my help. In your darkest moments you always turn your mind back to me. In your darkest moments we always worked together, because despite it all. Despite my short-comings, my abuse, my alcoholism, you’re just me with a slightly better control of your temper. Which isn’t much, considering you. But focus, focus is how you succeed boy.”
“I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. For one moment, I was able to talk to her again. For one moment, happiness. And then, even in my own dreams, you take it all away.”
His father laughed, took up the glass and downed the glass in one. Alex’s eyes focused down on the glass in front of him, taking it up to his own lips. Drinking deeply in response, finishing it in one. His eyes came up, and it was no longer his father sitting across from him. It was like staring into a mirror. His own doubts made manifest. His own face. He was sitting across from himself, younger, happier in the face, angrier in the eyes. The Raging Raven, comic book geek and video game nut. He swallowed hard, and closed his eyes, shaking his head.
“You can’t run away from your past, Alex. You were gentle once. Angry and full of vigor. But you were gentle. Happy, and care free. Without doubt and full of self-confidence. Be confident. Do not seek the validation, but know that you are already valid.”
And he felt the light spritz of water. His eyes snapped open and Luna was standing in front of him, beaming from ear to ear. She had a bottle of water in hand, and decided to flick some in his face. He shot up in his chair a little, momentarily shocked.
“How’d you get in?”
She jingled her keys in front of his face. A key to his apartment hanging from it. When did he give her that? When… He couldn’t remember. His mind was a sieve that no longer held anything. Just the nightmares. Just the voice of his father. The sins of his past, and the longing for her forgiveness.
The Runt in my Side
Scene Two | On-Camera | 1st February 2023
“Miles Kasey.”
The snapping of fluoro lights coming to life. Two columns four feet bays. A room stretching off into the distance. A small stage at the far end of the room. On the stage a man sits on a wooden chair, with a long towering back, and thick wooden arm rests. The Internet Championship sat on the lap of the man. His head cast downwards, leaning deeply into the chair, legs stretched out in front of himself, leaning heavily to the right.
“I wonder sometimes, Miles. How different things might have gone if I had managed to keep my temper. Managed to keep my mind. Managed to keep my focus when we went to the land of rebirth and pain. I wonder would I still be the Roulette Champion, right now? Close to being the longest reigning Roulette Champion in history. Would I have had my back to back wars with Austin James Mercer? Would’ve I have redeemed my failures against Fenris? There is so many questions I’ve asked of myself without answer. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be lost in your mind. It’s okay to think the what-ifs of existence, because it is okay to be unsure of the failures within yourself. And do you know why it’s okay to be unsure Miles? It’s because the most perfect situations in the world arise from the lack of certainty that we hold in our beliefs. I’m going to give you just a little insight into my life over the last six or so months. Insight into my existence since you stepped into it and took my number. Made me your little bitch, and made me unsure of myself.”
“Obsessed. Last year, when we were preparing to go to war, I was obsessed. Obsessed with the image of my deceased wife. Obsessed with the idea of forgiveness. I sought the image of my past to forgive the faults of my present. I sought an idea of someone to hold above all others. To worship as the peak of my faith. The Gospel of The Conspiracy is to seek the forgiveness of the woman who detested the very existence of our group. Of our belief. She didn’t detest those who were broken. She detested those who would seek to inflict a shattered reality upon those who were most vulnerable. A pedestal to be reached, for she was the climax of my ideology. She was the perfection in the broken world that I sought to escape. And so, in the land that she so loved. A place where she could see the beauty in the ideas, the existence, the beliefs. In India, on the River Ganges surrounded by the pyres, I took everyone to a personal place. A place where I could escape my own reality for just a minute. And in that hurt, that softness, that reality. A truth was borne into this world.”
Raven leans forward in the chair. His teeth gritting as he grimaces slightly. His legs moving stiff beneath him, a streak of pain stretching across his face. His fingers flexed, gripping tightly at the armrest. His eyes closing tightly against the light of the world around him. One hand loosening from the arm rest, going to his temple. Pressing two fingers tightly against his temples.
“The truth, was that the search for perfection, was beyond my grasp. That forgiveness I was seeking, was not for the vindication of my doubts. It was for the vindication of my own unbecoming. For the doubts, for the horrors of my own mind. A loss, a separation from reality. I became obsessed with becoming whole again, despite the fact that I was no longer broken. I hadn’t been broken in years. I was forgiven, I didn’t need to seek it. The truth that was borne, was this. I didn’t need to doubt me. I didn’t need to go back to the person I once was. Angry, obsessive and hateful. A child, obsessed with fantasy and worlds beyond my own. Because for me, that was an escape. A way to escape the reality of my own life. The traumatised children, as someone dear to me put it. But you see, Miles. I’ve learnt something. In my desecration of the legacy of kings fallen, I’ve learnt something. Losing the Roulette Championship to you, freed me. It took the hands of fate off my shoulders and allowed me something. The Freedom to Hunt. To take a look at you runty fucking wolves, look down the scope and fire. And the only one with the balls to step to the plate, was Austin James Mercer. Which people spent all their days telling me that it wasn’t the same man. A shell of his former self. I’m sure nobody was more insulted by the claims that King James himself.”
“Then the rest shunned my existence. They ignored the sleight I’d made against them, tucked their tails and ran. I beat the runt, Lachlan Kane, and took what he held dearest. I met King James head on and took the war to him. And then you all ran. Pretended I wasn’t worth the air that you would have to use to comment on me. All very confident when it came to mocking me, belittling me. To making fun of me. Bullies. All of you, were nothing but bullies. I spoke my mind, and like the pack of mangy mongrels you were, you leapt for the throat. And then when I stepped to the plate, you all scurried off back to your holes like the little bitch bullies you are. So I took matters into my own hands. I took aim at the biggest, mouthiest bully of them all. Fenris was the one to take my ire. And he tried to run. He continued to mock and bleat behind the keyboard. So I made a decision. I made a decision that no more would people be able to just hide. Though I no longer sought forgiveness, I had an understanding. I came to realise what it was that I had one tried to teach the broken. The guidance that lead me to being a Messiah. To being the One True King. In that understanding, my ideology became clear. I would seek out every person that thought themselves superior. That thought themselves special. I would seek out all those who thought themselves above all others, and show them my truth. My fucking truth!”
He launched himself up and out of the chair, the hand still on the arm rest grabbing the strap of the championship and holding it loosely by his side. His eyes opening wide, frustration etched across them. He lowered the other hand from his temple, and allowed it to hang at his side. His jaw tensed, his teeth grinding beneath a closed mouth. A twitch of the nostril. And a flicker of the left eye.
“My truth is the stones that are shattering the stained glass lies that encase this Sin City. And I’ve learnt, that the sky is held aloft by the castles of kings. The Kingdoms of the Fallen Kings. False Idols and Prophets alike, such as I. Fallen kings, with broken crowns. Skeletons that sit upon thrones long decaying. Fallen Kings, who still perpetuate the broken reality that stands before us. So I call upon them. I call upon those who think themselves better, because they once held castle to maintain the facade that floats over this Sin City. And I started already. Lachlan, done. King James, shown to be half the man that he was, and belittled by the peers who say they respect him. Fenris, now hiding away after an embarrassing loss. A king who spat upon my past because he didn’t see it in the same golden spotlight that he did his own. Who mocked my path because it suited his rhetoric. Who mocked my ascent because it made him feeling special. Because it made the big bad wolf feel like his existence meant something. But here’s the truth. I want you to understand this Miles, because there is a reason I picked your runty fucking ass. It’s the same reason I picked Fenris. I am going to take every former king, every person who has ever continued the Stained Glass Lies that keep this Sin City mired in a dark lie.”
“You Miles, are someone I have great issue with. A bully, a former king, and someone who bismirches the opportunity given to them. Who throws their frivolity in the face of all others and walks around like the world is owed to them. Everyone is loud and proud at bringing down the pompous, vainglorious and arrogant asshole that is Alexander Raven. Oh, that’s fine. Blood the waters and the sharks will swarm. But when the surfer is out of the water, only the brave seals continue to beat the flesh of the man who attempts to escape. Yet now that all the seals are dead, and the sharks culled, there is just you. The runty little wolves who have no focus on what lies before them. I handed you the world on a platter when I gave you the Roulette Championship. And at the first risk, you lost it all. You took for granted the warnings I gave and you threw it all away. Not even the final brick of your kingdom had been laid and you fell to another former king. Another former king whose crown I had already melted down to build my throne. You lost to the Bulldog, and continued to mock the failure I had in placing my faith in you. Failure to succeed where I had given you the opportunity to. You took everything and threw it away, and now. Now I have you in my crosshairs once more. I asked for this Miles. Not because you’ve earned it. You’ve done nothing to earn any chance at dethroning me for a second time. But I need to fix the wrongs of my past, to pave a future clean of the lies and distortions that you mutts perpetuate with every raspy breath.”
Raven slowly reaches into his pocket with his free hand, pulling a cigarette free and placing it to his lips. Quickly in again and a zippo lighter pulled out. With a flick of the wrist he lights the flame, before lighting the cigarette. A deep inhale, slowly allowing himself to fall back into the throne behind him. A deep inhale, before blowing the smoke out slowly, allowing the cigarette to hang loose on his lip.
“I want you to listen to me Miles. Because I am once again offering you the world. Not for your sake. I no longer believe you have the ability to be who I thought you could be. I see none of myself in you anymore. I see none of the pure innocence that you once had in my mind. You have none of the ability that I once thought you did, and it sickens me. It sickens me, that of everyone. You prove to be the biggest thorn in my side. Because it’s you, who started this path of vengeance and destruction. You brought the worst out in me, and it took the forgiveness of her. It took my best friends coming back into my life. It took the love of another to bring me back to a state of understanding. Love. I spoke once about love being the biggest motivator. That love is what guides us. That love is what controls us. Makes our impulses controlled. I think in this moment, you understand that better than ever. But I also want you to know this. If your focus slips because your mind is elsewhere, I will turn the world against you. Good, bad or evil, it doesn’t matter. The truth is this, and it’s becoming ever more evident. Every single week that I step into the ring and prove that my truth, is the only truth. Every single week, more and more people listen. Every single week there is more people cheering for Alexander Raven, and The Conspiracy. Deny it if you wish, but you and I both know. The more I speak, the more they accept. The more I talk, the harder it is to ignore it. The scratching feeling in the back of your mind. Maybe, maybe what he is saying is right? Maybe everyone is equal. That the broken can be fixed. That the broken can be guided back to a state of reality that is true.”
“Truth, Miles. That’s all this has ever been about for me. I want to show everyone the truth. That bullies, liars and miscreants do not succeed. I do not subscribe to this ideology that the pack mentality is defending your friends. All I ever did, was call you out. All I ever did, was ask that you fucking listen. But you didn’t. You never listened. Nobody ever listens. And they think it’s funny to mock. They talk about how I just rattle on. That they don’t want to listen. And it’s true, they don’t. They don’t want to listen deeply. They want the base truth, because deeper thought is far too painful. They hear, but they do not listen. It’s easier to mock than it is to actually try and understand someone who speaks differently. Arrogance is the word thrown at me because I refuse to submit to the ideology of the pack. And then you pretend like you didn’t send your mutts to bite and snap at my throat. To clack away at their keys on Twitter, and mock the future King of the Sin City. And that is not a claim of arrogance, that is a claim of truth. For every time I step into the ring I will permanently dethrone a former king, and melt their fucking crown down. So Miles. You are next on the chopping block.”
From behind the crown, a pair of arms. In them a rusted iron crown, marred with dents and cracks. They place the crown upon Alexander Raven’s head, as he once again lays the championship across his wait. He slowly lowers the cigarette from his mouth, flicking the ash to the floor. A deep snort through one nostril, the hocking of phlegm, and then spit a few feet in front of himself. He flicks the cigarette forward too, allowing it to smolder its final life away a few feet further than his spit.
“I will send you home, Miles. Back to your snappy wolves. Back to Carter. Last time it was Zoey who had your back. Who only had your back to get your mind off the last girl. I wonder, is Carter just the next flavour of the month for you, Miles? And yes, I’m going to get personal here with you Miles, because I want you to understand something. I intend to dismantle you, like you attempted to dismantle me. I will poke and prod are your personal life if I need to, because you felt inclined to make comment on who I am as a person. To make claims about things you didn’t know. So I will make claims to get under your skin. Because I want you to focus, Miles. I want your mind on me and only me, because you forsake yourself whenever you allow your mind to drift. Who will you turn to next, when your life drifts away from you? I wonder Miles. Will you run when it comes out that everything I say, is the truth. That you, are just another failure of a wolf. Like the others, you will fall. Like the others, I will make an example of you. I will take the crown that lingers upon your fallen corpse, and put you down. I will martyr you, like I shall martyr every fallen king. Because you are not my final goal. You are just another step on the pathway.”
The flickering ember from the cigarette begins to ignite some of the wooden environment. Flames leaping to life rapidly, filling the space with fire. Raven once again raises to his feet, holding the championship aloft in the air, tilting his head back a little to keep the crown steady on his head. The flames reflecting in his eyes, the flames of agitation dancing in unison with them.
“The Conspiracy has decided, Miles. You are the next wolf to be blooded. The next Former King to be removed. I chose you, to be the one that is reminded of their equality, and their lack of superiority. I will ensure that you know your place. A mongrel fit only to feed the the conspiracy. Take this prophecy, and wear it.”
The cawing of birds, the croaks and the chirps. The screeching as the sound of wings beating. The flames leaping higher and higher before obscuring the stage and Alexander Raven. The lights clicking off, one by one. The flames offering the only illumination. And then the granite head of a wolf flies through flames. Charred and cracked.
“Are you listening? Are you following? The Conspiracy is ready for you, Miles.”
And then.
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.
