A Martyr
“Failure.”
Alexander Raven is sitting on a nice, if not a little septic, couch. A deep teal colour, shadowed by the lack of lights. A small coffee table in front of him, a large candle in the middle of the table that has a flickering flame. It casts a light glow over the immediate area, casting shadows over the face of Alexander Raven. White tee, white pants, white shoes. A stark contrast to the dark world around him. His eyes are masked by the shadows.
“Failure.”
He breathes out heavily, and shakes his head. Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, clasping his left hand over the top of his right. Pressing his forehead against his clasped hands, breathing deeply.
“The arrogance of this situation is truly baffling to me, Gabriel. I have fallen from the top of the mountain, and now. The Kingslayer is fed the filth of the vermin who crawl in the lower throng of the sewers beneath the city. You, Gabriel. You are a mockery of everything I have done to prove that I am something. You are a mockery of everything I have spent my time trying to disprove. That I am nothing but bluster. That I am nothing but hot air. That I am nothing but an excuse to be excused. Yet here we are. The second time I put my eyes on becoming King for a Day, and you are what is put before me. Is it a placation from the Invisible Hands that have spent the last few months in an attempt to ruin me? I wonder, Gabriel. I wonder what wisdom exists that puts your before me?”
“I ask, because I do actually like you Gabriel. I do not think you deserve the opportunity you are being afforded, but I do like you. I like you because you are totally oblivious. A delusional, angry man-child. Disconnected from the truth of yourself. Disconnected from the reality of the world. Arrogant and full of bluster, you are the mirror image of what they wish me to be. So it almost poetic. Poetic that they lay you before me. It is almost poetic that they put that of which people wish me to be, as the martyr for their stupidity. A sacrifice to a greater outcome. A moron to be culled for the sake of entertainment. I’m sorry that you must suffer for their arrogance. I am sorry you must suffer for their ineptitude. But your very own inability is what will be your undoing, Gabriel. But why believe me?”
Raven lightly taps his clasped fists against his skull, sighing heavily. A defeated, deflated man. Lacking his usual fierceness. Lacking that fire.
“I am tired. I am sad. I am lost. I am many things, but myself is not one of them. I’m despondent, Gabriel. I’m exhausted with being less than I should be. I am exhausted with failing. Failure, Gabriel. Fucking failure!”
He kicks out violently, the coffee table flipping. The candle slams to the floor, the glass dish it was sitting on shattering. The flame continues to flicker, beginning to lap at the edge of a rug, threatening to set it on fire.
“People are wondering where my mind is at. I wonder this too. I wonder why I feel like I am asleep. Walking through sludge. I am not the person I was. The man who beat Lachlan Kane, stood toe to toe with Fenris and Austin James Mercer. The one who went hell for leather with former world champions every damn week. I am not myself anymore. I am asleep. I could make any excuse in the world. That I was playing the long game. That I was freeing myself up for greater things. That on any day, it was a matter of luck or fate that decided the outcome. The truth? I was afraid. I’m still afraid. I will continue to be afraid. I am afraid of being insignificant. I am afraid of being nothing. I am afraid of being forgotten. But my fear, my fear is holding me back. My fear is causing me to be lesser than I should be. Lesser than I could be. Lesser than I am.”
“I am without a doubt, one of the best Internet Champions that Sin City has ever had. There is fewer men who held it longer. There is but one who had more successful defense than me. There is not a single one among them that comes close to the pace, the difficulty and the danger I faced as Internet Champion. I avenged my demons. Defeated Miles, defeated Fenris. I slew kings in James and Davison. I made a victory over The Conspiracy mean something. It wasn’t just a win, it was a career changing victory. I suffered two losses in my one hundred and sixty eight days as the most dominant Internet Champions in history. What the fuck do I have to be scared of? I’ll put Jack Washington down, I’ll put fucking Calvin Harris down. I’ll put ever mongrel that steps in my path down, because that is what I need to do. I will defeat my fear.”
The rug catches, rapidly going up in flames. The fire leaping into the air, as it begins to slowly spread to the greater room. Throwing more light across the dull gloom. Alex is still sitting, unmoving. The flames threatening to leap to the couch he is sitting on. He slowly lowers his hands, placing them upon his knees as he leans forward. A flash of passion in his eyes.
“Failure, Gabriel. Failure is your story. And I apologise. I apologise for what is to come. I apologise for what you will inevitably suffer. I apologise, because you do not deserve it. You are disillusioned, deluded and just plain stupid. And whilst I like you. I truly do like you, Gabriel. You are everything that is fucking wrong with this place. A mockery of everything I have tried to undo. A mockery of the work I’ve done. To cleanse the Stained Glass Lies. To cut down every king, and melt their broken crowns in Napalm Death. You stand as the antithesis to everything I do. And I will snap your fucking neck for it. I will bleed your piggy little body.”
“Look upon your future, Gabriel. Look upon your destiny. I am the man who will fight fear. I am the man who will eradicate delusion. I am the man who will burn down all the world. I just need to wake up. Can you wake me up? Are you even aware of what is expected? I don’t want you to worry, but I need you to fear. I need you to fear what is coming. Because I want to smell the fear. I want to feel the fear. I need to feel the fear. You need to be afraid, Gabriel. Otherwise, you will be laid a broken, bleeding fucking mess in the middle of the ring. A cuntish little maggot good for nothing but the comic relief he refused to acknowledge himself as. A mongrel unloved by even their own kin. I will burn you in the Napalm Death if I must, Gabriel.”
Raven slowly stands up, reaching into his pocket. The flames leaping to the couch, engulfing it rapidly. He stands in a room that is burning down around him. All shadows eradicated by the blazing inferno. He pulls a cigarette out, placing it to his lips, and leaning forward. Lighting the tip of it with the leaping fire.
“My world is burning down around me, Gabriel. Everything has been taken from me, and I am now reduced… to you. I hope, you are ready for it all, Gabriel.”
“Luna.”
“I need you to Wake. Me. Up.”
Inhaling deeply, the cigarette burning brightly, the ember flashing a bright red. He shakes his head, and sits back down, sitting in the flames. The world being engulfed in the flicker red and yellow. Obscuring before completely hiding Alexander Raven from view.
“The Conspiracy is here.”
And then…
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.
