Murder, She Wrote
Scene One | Off-Camera
And then he pulled the trigger.
Luna’s scream echoed through the streets. Lights turning on in various nearby houses. The blood curdling scream enough to wake the dead themselves. But there was no gunshot. There was no bang, there was no muzzle flash. The gun wasn’t loaded.
Sullivan had collapsed to his knees, clearly thinking this would be his final night. A powerful enemy, but one Alex didn’t fear making. His eyes were still fixed on the man, the shivering whimpering mess of a man who had fallen to the floor. Luna’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him away. Pulled him away from the man he had just pulled the trigger on. It didn’t matter if the gun was loaded or not. He had done what he needed.
“I fucking own you, you stupid fucking cunt.” Alex spat venomous words, still fixated on Sullivan as Luna forcefully dragged him away. Forced him back towards the car. Forced him to be separated from the situation. Sullivan just knelt there, whimpering. Crying. Emotion from the skeleton himself. Seems even he was capable of feeling fear. Even he was capable of being broken.
“Alex, get in the fucking car.” Luna said coldly. She was burning inside, a rage that she would let him have every inch of once they were away. Away from the scene. Alex replaced the gun in an inner coat pocket, as he finally broke his eyes away from Sullivan. Eyes locking with Luna’s as she continued to pull him by the shoulders. The tiny little thing, pulling away the raging Raven himself. Every part of him burned, screamed to break eye contact. But he knew he had to keep eyes on her. For just the moment.
“That bastard should be dead, Lu. He should be dead, and James should be alive.” Alex said through gritted teeth. The adrenaline was pumping, flight or fight wanted him to fight. He knew the gun wasn’t loaded, but it didn’t change the fact that it was tugging at his soul, that in that moment, he knew he could have killed him. If that gun had been loaded, he would have put that bullet straight between Sullivan fucking Pleasant’s eyes.
“Get in the car.” Luna said, and then the sickening crack of her hand across his jaw. A deserved slap, but it shook him nonetheless. Shook and returned him to Earth. A few people had come out now, surveying what was going on. Sullivan could go to the police. Could have Alex charged. The past and the reality of the situation is that it wouldn't happen. No, Sullivan was far more the type to take things into his own hands. But would he? That was the real question.
Alex pulled open the passenger door, a hand rubbing at his blisteringly hot cheek. Rubbing at where a hand print was surely beginning to welt up.
“He took everything from us. Everything.” Alex said the words as calmly as he could. A shake in his voice still. He could pull the trigger, but he couldn’t bear Luna hating him. He couldn’t bear the thought that she would resent him for making the decision he did. He didn’t want her to see that. He thought he had more time.
“You’re a fucking moron, Alex.” Luna said coldly again, as she turned the key in the ignition. Turning the engine over, and slamming her foot on the accelerator. Wanting to get away from the staring eyes, the curious persons. Away from the shuddering form of Sullivan Pleasant who was finally getting to his feet. Silence filled the air, as they drove through the still night. No music, no radio. No chatter. Just the heaviness of their breathing. Thoughts churning in their minds.
“Sul killed my brother.” Luna stated, more a fact than a question. Alex simply nodded a little in return, turning in his seat a little to face her more head on. Trying not to distract her from the road as she ripped through the night. Definitely over the speed limit.
“I didn’t catch a good look that night. Memory is kind of hazy. Trauma stuff, I guess. But… Harry found out. Harry told me. And then it all started to make sense. The man kept turning up wherever I went. Every which way I turned he was there.” Alex spoke, before Luna pulled aggressively off the road. Slamming on the breaks, whipping the both of them in their seats. Pulling the handbrake on she turned, staring daggers into him. Staring straight through him.
“What the fuck were you thinking Alex?” Luna asked, a tightened jaw, her eyes narrowed. Nothing in this world was scarier than the woman who was staring him down right now. No answer he had would be good enough. And no answer he could give was going to calm things down. The only difference with this fight? They didn’t have anywhere to escape, to leave. To disappear too. They were stuck in this fight, and that was something brand new for them.
“I wanted to hurt him, like he hurt us. I didn’t think I’d be able to pull that trigger. I thought I’d go, yell and scream. Threaten and then walk away. But I knew there was a possibility otherwise. It’s why I didn’t load the gun. It’s why I didn’t put that trust in myself.” Alex responded, staring out the windshield now, rubbing again at his slowly swelling cheek.
“James would’ve put you in the ground if he caught wind of this bullshit, and you fuckin’ know it, Alex.” Luna said with some finality, turning in her seat to look at him. Just the slightest bit of softness crossed her face as she lightly slapped his hand away. Her hands either side of his face and pulling him towards her a little.
“I’m a fucking mess, Luna.” Alex said softly, tilting his head forward a little. Resting his forehead lightly against the bridge of her nose. Luna frowning a little and shaking her head, lifting him off for a moment to tap him on the nose.
“It’s weird when you use my full name. You’re the one in trouble here, Lexi. Not me.” She said, soothingly. Placing a gentle kiss to his forehead before turning in her seat. Handbrake off, and slowly pull back onto the road. He settled himself back into his seat, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Hey, you don’t know Ashton Mire, do you? I got this really weird text, it seemed… like a premonition.” Luna asked.
He’d heard the name before. Worked for a Vita Mors Co. He didn’t really know much about them, but this did seem somehow in their bizarre little wheelhouse.
“I know of him. Nothing good to come from it. I wouldn’t engage. Seem like a bunch of cultists. Weird cats.” Alex said, trying to remain somewhat impartial. The whole idea of them being under the watch of Vita Mors was unnerving in itself.
He didn’t know it at the time. But things weren’t going to be as simple as ‘simply avoiding’ Ashton Mire and the illusive Vita Mors. Little did they know what was coming for them. Life was about to change for them, forever. Old friends, new friends and what could only be described as a mystical space cult fronting as a corporation.
The next morning, there was a knock at their door.
Understanding
Scene Two | On-Camera
“I’m beginning to understand Jack Washington. That’s a scary thought in of itself, but I’m beginning to really understand what he was talking about. It feels like, the more I look, the smaller this ocean becomes. The more I stand here and think about it, the less I feel like a big fish in a gigantic ocean, and the more I feel like a shark in a fucking swimming pool. It’s funny how time makes idiots of us all, and yet in becoming the moron we become the understanding. The ignorance becomes a veil we cannot hide behind any longer and into the light we step. A light of understanding, a light of knowing. Seeing that the longer I stand here, the longer I swim in this ever shrinking bath tub of sticky waste, I begin to understand the minnows that nip and nibble at my fins.”
“I’m beginning to understand why Jack Washington has to disappear for six months a year, and then comes back screaming for attention. I’m beginning to understand why he complained so fervently every single week, and I understand it because now I feel like I’m becoming Jack Washington. Denied the very right to the championships I deserve, in place of undeserving scum sucking filth like Ben Jordan. Like Bill fucking Barnhart. And like you, Goth. The undeserving failed challenger who took my spot. Who took my opportunity from me and then squandered it. Threw it to the wayside and failed to capitalise. But that is our story isn’t it, Gerrit. Ooh, ahh. Let’s get personal with this one, shall we?”
“Let’s really get down into it, because I’m sick of the facades, the masks and the lies we tell ourselves. I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not, and I’m tired of you pretending to be someone you are not. The babbling god talk is, for sake of simplicity, horseshit. Bland, boring and uninspired. At least when your old friend, your fellow Savior would talk, there was substance to it, Gerrit. There was this certain power behind the words. There was this belief that I could have in that man. He wasn’t using godliness as an excuse, he wasn’t using it as a sled to the bottom of the hill. No, there was a power in Ken that you do not have. A power that I refuse to accept you even fully understand. But that’s okay, I’m here to show you the truth. I’m here to help all lost sheep be guided back to the truth of it all. That none of you fucking matter and in this puddle, I am the only fish that gets to eat.”
“I can hear it now. The numerous ways that people will talk about it. How Alexander Raven cannot get a win. How Alexander Raven continues to fall at the feet of Goth, how even now. When he was so close to being the one on top of that mountain he floundered at the feet of those who are better. Better? Nobody is fucking better than Alexander Raven. Bad luck and a bad run. A ticking engine that doesn’t allow for the motor to cool down. I haven’t had an extended break. I haven’t more than a few weeks off in the years that I’ve been back. I don’t take time off, I’m always working. Always trying to get better. I’m putting metal spikes in people’s heads, and having my arms ripped open on glass shards in foreign countries where nobody can understand me screaming for help.”
“I’m out there competing with the juggernauts of this industry. So you’ll have to forgive me, if I’m a half-step too slow when I come home to roost. You’ll have to forgive me that I’m just having a bad time of it lately. But the wheel of fate changes and in time, in turn and in reality. In all the facets of the life we live, there is a change in the wind. And the shrinking water droplet can only get so small before it can no longer hold all of us. I wonder, Gerrit, if you feel the noose tightening like I do? Do you think that they will take pity on you? Or will they hold you at knifepoint, blade pressed to your throat and demand that you continue to dance? To dance for the money, for the peanuts and for the applause. Do you think they like you more than they like me? I don’t think they like any of us anymore. I don’t think they actually care anymore. No, because if they cared, they wouldn’t be serving us up for the third time in less than six fucking months.”
“No, I think they might hate you just as much as they hate me. Pitting us against each other in the first round of that tournament in the hopes that it would break us. Pitting us against each other in hopes that one would take out the other, and then the betters, their favourites would make it all the way. They got there in the end, didn’t they, Goth? Finn Whelan stands at the peak of the mountain once more, and the golden child is the king. That’s what they wanted from us, and we gave it to them on a silver fucking platter. So whilst you were failing, in the same way you failed before. I was putting the nails in the coffin of the Cockney king himself, Ben Jordan. Oh, but oh, I hear you cry. Didn’t Ben make you pass out poor Alexander? Alexander the not great. The fallen king himself falling ever further to the British bastard himself.”
“No, no, dear Goth. No, that's not right. That’s not right at all. Ben may have left as the winner, but all it proved was that I am right. Those things I have been saying for months, for years now. That there is a whim from the higher ups to put me down. That there is this desire to stop and end Alexander Raven before he can make changes. Before he exposes us for the villains that we are. The invisible hands are not so invisible now that they are in broad daylight manipulating and controlling the outcomes to their whim and desire. There is no competition when the competition is rigged, Goth. And when it comes to me and you, its been rigged from day fucking one.”Murder, She Wrote
Scene Three | Off-Camera
The knocks, rapid and light. Demanding yet comforting. There was a knock knock knocking at the chamber door. He wasn’t really much of a poet in the mornings, but something about this day felt strange. The night before he’d had the gun held to Sullivan Pleasant’s head. The night before he learnt that if time really called for it, he could be that killer. It didn’t matter if it was leaving his father to burn in a flame of his own making, or by putting a bullet in those who deserved it. Alexander Raven was less than he was before James died, and would forever be plagued by the thoughts of what he was capable of.
Luna was surprisingly chipper that morning, which should have set off alarm bells. It should have made him realise that things were not going to be all hunky dory for the man who just wanted to hide from the world for a while. Luna opened the door, and there were squeals of delight. Notably, there were two sets of squeals. Most notably he recognised both sets of them. The loud and the obnoxious, and Luna was far from obnoxious. No, that second set belonged to an old friend. James’ little marigold princess. Adrienne.
Alex groaned as he rolled out of bed. For having been dead sober the night before, he was experiencing one hell of a hangover that morning. He slipped on a simple black tee, pulled on a pair of blue denim jeans, and sat on the edge of the bed. The two girls had shuffled into the apartment. There was the distinct muted sound of suitcase wheels on carpet. A conversation he was sure they would have had if he had not made the decisions he had made the night before.
“About time someone came around to show everyone what a true ginger looks like.” Alex shouted out from the bedroom, as the two girls laughed. Maybe a blessing in disguise. Luna wouldn’t be angry or distant with him today. At least, not as much as she could and would be in normal circumstances. Normal? What was normal anymore.
He opened the door of the bedroom and stepped out in the lounge area. Luna was in the kitchen, making coffee. Three cups. He was expected to be more sociable than he already had been. What a wonderful notion. He smiled at her softly, a polite if somewhat hollow one returned. The stunning orange mane of hair of Adrienne shone brightly in the morning light. She was planted on a seat near the kitchen island counter, her back to him. She turned to look over her shoulder and beamed at him. The bright smile, the happy-go-lucky colorful girl. They may not have always got along the best, but there was something about Adrienne. Something that had always made him want to make sure she was safe.
Something that the Pasilno siblings had always admired. Luna and Adrienne had been roommates for a while, after James and Alex had stepped in to protect her from an abusive partner. They’d become good friends. He knew James would never admit it, but he’d also spent that time teaching Adrienne the finer parts of being a terror in the ring. Another to add to the Pasilno-Rabenschwarz dynasty of broken kids who found solace in the pain of being in the ring.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make it over in time for the funeral. Apparently money doesn’t grow on trees, and I was the last one to be informed.” Adrienne said, a softness to her voice. Alex placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She in turn rested her cheek on his hand for a second, lifting her shoulder to gently squeeze his hand in response between her shoulder and cheek.
“Hands off, she’s my friend buddy.” Luna said, a stupid smile plastered on her face. Maybe the sleep had done enough to make her not hate his guts. Maybe it was the presence of Adrienne so soon after that was creating a buffer, and a future fight was on the cards regardless. He didn’t know, he probably never really would. For as good as he was at reading people, Luna had always been an enigma. Probably why he had been drawn back to her after all this time.
“Well, I’ll just climb back in my box with all my imaginary friends then.” Alex quipped, as he took the mug of coffee handed to him. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pant pocket, offering one to each of the girls. Luna took one, Adrienne took one, and he put one to his own lips. Walking with his mug in hand out onto the balcony. Breathing in deeply as the two of them followed him out. Maybe he should have stayed in bed.
“So, I know it’s short notice but I’m sure you’ll have no problem with it, Lexi-baby. Adrienne needs somewhere to stay for a little bit until she can get her own place. She would have taken the apartment over the bar, but someone has yet to sign-off on the transfer.” Luna said, the implication being that it was Alex who had yet to sign. That was wrong, it was definitely Luna who needed to sign, but he would wear the damage for the day.
“Good thing I bought a comfortable couch, with how much I’ll be sleeping on it then.” Alex replied, lighting his cigarette as he plopped himself down onto one of the balcony seats. Adrienne sat in another, as Luna dropped into his lap. Had he fucking dreamed the events of last night? Things were too calm. Too surreal. Too…
normal. “Thanks Alex. I appreciate it, truly.” Adrienne said gently. Always a quiet girl, but there was a big personality waiting to burst out. Timidity was not her modus operandi by any stretch of the imagination. But she hadn’t had the creature comforts and support that they had after James’ passing. She was grieving, and that was her right. In any way shape or form. There was another knock at the door. Alex cocked an eyebrow and looked at Luna. Luna shook her head, not knowing who it was. Adrienne also seemed ignorant.
Shifting Luna off him and into the chair behind him, he placed his half smoked cigarette onto the edge of the nearby ashtray. Walking inside he looked through the peephole at the men who stood outside. Two suited men, who by any stretch of the imagination couldn’t be anything other than police detectives. The way they held themselves, the way they scanned the nearby area. Alex swallowed hard as he opened the door. The two men looked at him, somber smiles.
“Mr Rabenschwarz, I presume?” The shorter of the two asked, presenting his badge. Alex simply nodded as he stood there, trying to keep eye contact with the both of them.
“You may not remember us, but you gave a statement at the time of one, James Pasilno’s shooting. We thought we’d make a personal visit to say we believe we have the culprit in custody. A man you know personally. A, Mr Sullivan Pleasant. He turned himself into police custody earlier this morning.”Alex’s heart caught in his throat. Looking at them incredulously. It all made sense now. The reason Sullivan was out so late, the reason he was so accepting of his fate. The reason he had seemingly attempted to repent. Alexander Raven didn’t own Sullivan Pleasant, because Sullivan Pleasant didn’t play by others rules. He was always going to turn himself in that night. And Alex had given him all the ammo he needed to worm his way out of trouble.
The slimy fucking weasel.
Outcomes
Scene Four | On-Camera
“See, this game we participate in. It's rigged from the word go. I’ve done everything right and I continue to be punished for it. I played their game the way they wanted. I took the whippings that they decided I needed to take. I stood there and faced off with the kings they deemed in need of a lesson, and now. Now I’m punished for not succeeding at every step of the way. I’m being punished and turned into just another Jack Washington. I’m becoming the training dummy for all they wish to test, and in turn they continue to screw me every which way until Sunday. Have you ever had the referee end the match because they assumed you were out? That you were unconscious and not just attempting to play possum? No, I don’t even think they want to hurt you that badly. Not yet anyway. Not until you do something really egregious. Like losing to Alexander Raven. Like failing to stop him on his journey to exposing the truth of the bullshit that happens beneath the surface here.”
“No, I think we all know the reality of what happened in my latest outing. And I will not be allowing it to happen again when we get in that ring. See the only thing people remember, Gerrit. The only thing people give a fucking damn about is what happened last. They don’t remember every success. They don’t remember that you were the first into a match. They don’t care if you run the whole damn gauntlet, they just care if you stand as the victor at the end. Ben Jordan couldn’t lace my fucking boots, and you boy. You will see what happens when you piss off Alexander Raven.”
“See, I need you to understand me here, Gerrit. I need you to understand why this is getting fucking personal for me. I need you to understand that things I’m saying are not just the rantings and ramblings of a man lost to his own delusions. I need you to understand that I am a man who knows what the lies happening beneath the surface actually mean for us all. So that when this water molecule that holds us all finally bursts and only the sharks remain. You’ll know why I’m wiping your face off the bottom of my boot and all you can feel is the blood trickling down into your throat. I am not playing for the sake of being another member of the roster. I am not playing to be another body to be thrown to those who are touted as the superiors. I am not just another man who will play the games that they want us to play. No, I am Alexander Raven. I am the fucking Raging Raven. And before you even thought about being the Messiah of Pain, I was the leader of the broken. I was the king of the truth and lies. I was the Broken fuckin’ Messiah before you even thought of muddling about with your holier than thou delusions of grandeur.”
“You’re not a messiah, Gerrit. You’re not a leader, you’re not even the king.You’re just another middling nobody who in this ever shrinking world, thinks that they are getting bigger. Yet the more you stay the same, the more space you take up. And when you’re in the way of those who need that space. When you’re taking hold of that noose for far too long, then you will be punished for it. The punishment you seek to give. The punishment you pretend is owed to others and in it their salvation. There is no salvation Gerrit. There is no escape. There is no freedom. There are just the whims and demands of those who would control us. But it’s okay. I will free us from their chains. I will wipe your blood off the bottom of my boots and paint a beautiful picture. A picture of the future. A future without delusional freaks like you. A world where the Alexander Raven’s of society are no longer held down.”
“I’m offering you true freedom. An escape into a world free of the pain and suffering that you feel is so obligatory. I’m offering you the truth. I’m offering everything you think you can give, and demand praise for. I demand no thanks, no praise, no love. I demand nothing but honesty. And honestly Gerrit. I don’t even think you deserve it. But that’s what giving is. It’s giving to all, even the fucking unworthy. So come Climax Control I need you to understand. I need you to listen. Everything begins and ends with you. Because I finally understand what. Do you?”
“Are you listening to me?”And then…
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.
