Scene One
Off-Camera
“Alright then. Show me.” Luna said.
I took a deep breath. There was no turning back now. I nodded my head, handing the Key over to Luna. She couldn’t stop staring at it, transfixed, just as I had been the first time I’d laid eyes on it.
“Clear your mind,” I said. “Visualisation, connection, experience, language and peace. These are the steps you need to remember and follow. Visualise what you want to see. Connect to it, see it in your mind’s eye. Imagine you’re there. Give yourself to what you want to see.”
I placed my hand on Luna’s shoulder. I was hoping the bond we’d forged in the brief time we’d been hanging out together, both in and out of the ring, was enough to convince her that this was the right thing to do. For both her and Alex. Whilst I was at it, I was trying to convince myself of the same thing. I watched Luna’s face, steeped in concentration as she mouthed the five words of the instructions I’d given her and nodded assuringly. It was working. The red mist within the key was swirling like a storm cloud now. The Void was ready. I focused my own gaze upon it as well. If this were to work, both of us had to share the same laser focus and concentration.
“Now, in a clear voice, repeat after me… Mater et infans.”
“Mater et infans,” Luna repeated perfectly. And then, instantly, the Void took us in. No longer were we sitting in the Helix pub in Turkey. The look on Luna’s face told me we were in the right place. She was double-taking, as if this place was eerily familiar, as if unable to believe where we were. It was a quaint living room of sorts with what looked like a clean lick of paint on the walls, like it had recently been redecorated in a purple-esque colour.
And then a sound that was all-too-familiar to me could be heard. A sound that made Luna’s face drop. And moments later, the form of a fresh-faced almost…happy-looking Alexander Raven. Cradled in his arms was a baby, cooing cutely away.
It was somewhat disturbing seeing Raven this way. I don’t think I’d even seen him smile before. He always looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulder. But not this Alex. He looked at the baby in his arms like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on. Luna was drawn to both of them. I gently lifted my hand from her shoulder, as if it were a sign of approval for her to go to them. And go to them she did, as if she were drawn to the gargling sounds of the infant cradled in her husband’s arms.
“Is that mama? Mama and her friend Sean are here. Violet, can you say hello?” Raven said in the softest tone I’d ever heard him speak in. It was oddly disconcerting. It wasn’t right and I instantly felt a pang of regret in my stomach. Whatever Mors had planned for him, it wasn’t going to end with a happy memory like this. I clenched my fist tightly, so much so my knuckles turned white. Veni Domum I said in my head. Just say them, for Christ’s sake, Sean. Get you and Luna the fuck out of here! But, as if it were preempted, I then felt like someone was pinching my brain. It caused me to jerk my head involuntarily and it took everything in my being not to shout out in pain. Instead, I shut my eyes tight, screwing my face up.
“Remember our deal, Mr Parker. Do not back out now!” Mors’ voice said, as if it were coming from inside me.
Get out of my head, Mors!” I said hushedly through gritted teeth so as not to alert Luna whose eyes were now filling up with tears as she leaned her head over, captivated by the baby girl before her, her tiny hands reaching up instinctively to touch her mother’s cheek. I visualised the five steps Mors himself had taught me. I channelled them and somehow, some way managed to respond inside my own head.
“This isn’t right, Mors! Whatever you’ve got planned for Raven, I’m not having any part of it!”
An eerily-pleasant surprised tone laced his response.
“Ahhh, well look at you, Mr Parker, mastering a new trick. You’ve come so far! Nevertheless, need I remind you of your contractual obligation?
“You need me more than I need you, Mors. You need me to unite the TRIAD and free you, remember, there’s no one else that can do it…for…you…”
It suddenly dawned on me. Raven. He made a deal with Mors. To get the TRIAD.
“You’re using Raven to get into the Great Illuminatus, aren’t you? That’s what this is all about? You need Luna to see what she’s missing out on to convince her of what you can give her!
“You continue to amaze me, Mr Parker. Perhaps I underestimated you. Do you not think I wouldn’t make contingencies for myself? Mr Rabenschwarz is a tortured soul and you know all too well how susceptible tortured souls are to the right amount of leverage. Now, you will stay there, you will stay with Ms Pasilno and you will do what I asked you to do. Speak those words before the time is right and it will not be just your body I will hang from my rafters.”
And then, just like that, his voice was gone. It was like I’d been underwater and suddenly resurfaced. Everything was clear again. I felt sick to my stomach though. What exactly did Raven agree with Mors as collateral for uniting the TRIAD? My hands were tied. I had to carry on.
I refocused back to the scene in front of me as Alex gently transferred little Violet from the nook of his muscled arms seamlessly into Luna’s. Seeing her face light up, cheeks tear-stained, it reminded me of my first trip into the Void, when I spoke with my late father. The feeling of incredulousness, not sure whether to believe it was real or not. Luna then turned to face me.
“Violet, we always said if we had a girl. We’d call her Violet…” her voice barely registered. Her face said it all. That what she was experiencing wasn’t real but she so wanted it to be.
“I don’t want to leave.” I heard Luna mumble to herself, planting herself in an ascendant armchair. She was completely besotted with the little girl in her arms. She looked up at me, the look of someone desperately trying to keep it together painted on her face. The expression was then repainted. Anger took over. Her brow furrowed. I hadn't seen this side of Luna before. Alex’s voice then travelled from the kitchen.
“I’ve got one of my arms elbow deep in a chicken’s ass in here, the doors open! Come in!” he yelled. The front door opened a few seconds later, not far from them. Luna’s back was to the door, but she broke her eyes away from me just for a moment, craning her head to see who it was and her face dropped a second time.
In walked another man I didn’t recognise. He looked like something out of a My Chemical Romance music video but shared a striking resemblance to Luna herself. Did Luna have a brother? He was huge, bigger than Uncle Butch and that was saying something. He looked at me and subtly nodded with a smile before making his way over to Luna, leaning down and kissing the top of her head softly before stroking Violet’s cheek gently, as if she were a porcelain doll that would shatter if he were too hard. Luna looked at me again, her head shaking from side-to-side, glassy-eyed.
“I want to go home now.” she wept as she took one last look at baby Violet in her arms. She stared at me with pleading, tear-filled eyes. I sighed, fighting my own tears back, seeing Luna’s broken, vulnerable state. What had I done?
“Veni domum.” I said quietly. Instantly, the Void spat us back out again. The scene was exactly how it had been before, as if we had never even been away. Luna looked inconsolable. The tears were still streaking down her cheeks. She shoved the Key into my chest as if it were poisonous to the touch, shaking her hands out, rubbing them on herself.
“Why the fuck would you do that to me?” she cried, her voice breaking as she battled with the adjustment of experiencing the Void. She started to hyperventilate, her chest heaving.
“Luna… I’m sorry….
Scene Two
Off-Camera
Present Day
Gateways Hospital & Mental Health Center
Los Angeles, California
It had been sometime since I’d visited Doctor Wilson for a therapy session. When I suffered my spinal injury back in 2013, they had been mandated as part of my mental recovery, deemed to be just as pivotal and vital in bringing me back from the brink as the physical rehab I had been doing. At first I rejected them, building up psychological walls so thick, they had become practically impenetrable. Over the years though, my psyche had softened. The bricks that had built this wall of protection around myself had started to loosen and slowly but surely Doctor Wilson had helped me to tunnel out. Like Andy Dufrene in the Shawshank Redemption, I was able to dig my way through a river of psychological shit and come out clean on the other side.
These days though? Things were much, much different. I hadn’t needed to speak to Doctor Wilson in months. The last time I sat here was before the TRIAD Strength Trials, still trying to figure out where I fitted in amongst all the complex pieces of that particular puzzle. The nightmares that had plagued me for decades that had come part-and-parcel with the pain I had experienced with my spinal trauma had finally been laid to rest as well. In all honesty, up until recently, this had been the freest I’d felt mentally in years. Two championships around my waist, my stock in the professional wrestling industry continuing to rise at a meteoric pace, a husband, a father.
I allowed my eyes to scan across Doctor Wilson’s office. It hadn’t changed much at all in over ten years. Doctor Wilson was a creature of habit, never straying far from his own comfortability. The same framed pictures, awards, degrees adorned the walls, the same books side, spines out, in the same exact bookshelf I remember staring at when I rolled my wheelchair in for the first time.
The door creaked open and in he walked, a broad smile spreading across his face as he clapped his own eyes on me. We were beyond the usual formalities by now. I stood up and embraced him warmly, giving him a pat on the back for emphasis.
“It’s good to see you, Sean,” he said jovially, “How are you doing?”
Doctor Wilson broke away from the embrace but still kept a hold of my arms. He looked at me, as if trying to gauge my pending answer. Once a shrink, always a shrink. There was no point in lying. He was practically a human lie detector. I knew that from experience.
“I’m not sure in all honesty. Kinda why I’m here.”
He motioned me to sit down with a beckoning hand before plonking himself down in his office chair.
“What’s troubling you? Surely being married and being a father isn’t that stressful?”
He said that last part with a smile but I knew he was just casting some bait out.
“No, no, not at all. Eve’s incredible and Amelia is just… she’s just perfect. I love being a husband and I couldn’t be happier being a dad. No, it’s something else.”
“Is the pain back? The nightmares?”
“No, thank God. I wish it were as simple as that. But no, it’s… this….”
I delved into my pocket and pulled out the Key. The pocket watch-esque device that Vita Mors had gifted me before the TRIAD Wit Trials.
“An old watch?”
I shook my head, not taking my eyes off it, gripping gently between the tips of my forefinger and thumb.
“This isn’t a watch, doctor. Remember the man I told you about before? The one in the mask?”
“Yes, Vita something-or-other?”
Doctor Wilson brought out his notebook and started skimming back in previously-filled pages.
“Mors? Vita Mors?”
I nodded.
“That’s the one.”
“And this… trinket… has something to do with him?”
“Yes, but.. It’s complicated.”
“Well, if it weren’t, you wouldn’t be here, Sean. Talk to me.”
I sighed deeply, puffing my cheeks out.
“I already have a deal with this guy. Two deals in fact. Whatever penance comes with it, it’s a cross I’m willing to bear and I’ve made my peace with that. But there’s someone I’ve grown quite fond of. A woman I’ve been paired with in a wrestling tournament…”
“Grown fond of, you say?” Doctor Wilson asked, a knowing tone laced through his voice. I knew what he meant and I shut it down quickly.
“No, not like that, Christ! No, she’s a friend. I’ve kinda grown a sense of responsibility for her, like a big brother. It’s her husband I’m actually worried about. He’s a wrestler too and I know for a fact he’s also caught up with Vita Mors. Only I have a really bad feeling about this. I’m not exactly drinking buddies with the guy but Luna? I don’t want her getting hurt and caught up in this.”
I lowered my head, my hands clasped around the back of my neck. I couldn’t help but see Luna’s face when I closed my eyes. Seeing her hold baby Violet, how happy she looked and then the look of resentment she cast on me afterwards.
“And what makes you think she’s going to get caught up in…whatever is going on with her husband and this Vita Mors character?”
“Because she already is,” I replied. “She and her husband, they… can’t have a family. So I showed her what life would be like if things were… different. It didn’t exactly end well. And now I’m racked with guilt. The look on her face, it’s exactly the way I looked when I saw my dad and realised it wasn’t real…”
“I’m assuming you’re talking metaphorically here, Sean?” Doctor Wilson asked, his face laced with confusion. I just stared at him. I couldn’t show him the Void. It was too big a risk. He probably wouldn’t believe me anyway.
“To be honest, I don’t know what I’m talking about anymore, doc.”
“Are you sure there’s something you’re not telling me? You haven’t talked about your dad since our first session when you were a kid and now you’re just casually dropping him into conversation and talking about seeing him like it was just yesterday, showing another person what her life would have been like? Plus, and please take this with the care it's intended, you look like hell. When did you last get a good night’s sleep?”
Good question. Since Turkey, Luna and I had barely spoken. I didn’t sleep a wink on the flight home to Los Angeles and truth be told, I had hardly been able to even close my eyes without seeing Luna’s heartbroken expression or hear Mors’ chilling voice inside my head. I stood up.
“You know what? This was a bad idea. I’m sorry, doc, I’ve wasted your time. This is beyond anything I can tell you… I… I need to go…”
“Sean, wait!”
I didn’t even give him time to catch up as I speed-walked out of Doctor Wilson’s office, meandering through the corridors and out the nearest fire exit. I pinned myself to the wall outside, feeling my heartbeat racing. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck Fuuuuck! I shouted inside my head. There she was again. Luna. That tear-stricken, heartbroken face. There was Alex Raven, the doting dad. There was Mors, his creepy mask and his haunting smile. I grabbed my cell phone from my pocket and raced my thumb through the contacts before pinning the phone to my ear.
“Hey, this is Alex, I’m not around right now. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you!”
Shit!
“Hey, Raven…um it’s Sean, Sean Parker. Look, I know we haven’t talked a lot. Hell, I think the last time we were in the same room, you were trying to cleave my head in two in Cambodia… anyway… look, I really need to talk to you, it’s about Vita Mors… call me back, please.”
Scene Three
On-Camera
Artie, Artie, Artie. Wow, kid, look at you! All the way to the semi-finals! You’ve certainly come a long way since the start of the tournament, haven’t you? All that training with Fenris and Bobbie really is paying off. Each time you get in that ring, you surprise everyone. You’ve surpassed everyone’s expectations even daresay your own I’m betting.
I see a lot of similarities between us if I’m being honest, Artie. See, I know what it’s like to be in your shoes. To see a family member succeed in this business, to want nothing more than to emulate that, to be that. You see them in the ring, how seamless they move, how graceful yet punishing they are. You hear the roar of the crowd when their hand is raised in victory, see the glimmer of the championship belt being placed over their shoulder and think, yeah, I want that. You saw the success of Bobbie, how fiercely and bravely she fought, watched her claim the Bombshell Roulette Championship, watched her begin to cement a legacy for herself as one of the most dominant wrestlers, not just in the Bombshell Division, but in all of Sin City Wrestling. You want to be known as more than just the husband of Bobbie Dahl. You want to be known as Artie Miler, the World Heavyweight Champion.
That was me over ten years ago, Artie. A naive 15-year old kid who got in over his head and wanted to be a World Champion. I watched my Hall-of-Fame uncle bulldoze his way through every single opponent put in front of him. He had the ferocity and strength of the mighty warrior, Ajax and the grace and finesse of Achilles. I watched as he landed lung-busting Jackhammer after lung-busting Jackhammer, explosive lariat after explosive lariat, building a legacy of tournament wins, World Championships and notoriety as one of the most dominant professional wrestlers of his generation.
I watched. I watched every movement, every connection with the ropes, the way his feet moved, the way he anticipated his opponents’ every move, the way he absorbed the punishment he took and shook it off like it was nothing. And I said to myself, I want that. I said to myself, I want to be known more than just the nephew of Butch Parker. I wanted to be known as Sean Parker, the World Heavyweight Champion.
But the Moirai had woven a different thread for my destiny, much different to the one that I had fashioned for myself in my own mind’s eye. I was to endure my own labours, much like Heracles, a test to see if I could weather the storms ahead for me and prove my worth. And you know what? Turns out breaking my spinal cord and being trapped within the confines of a wheelchair for two years was probably the greatest thing that could have ever happened to me. You know why? One word. Perspective. It’s a gift, Artie. One that you haven’t been given in the lessons you’ve had with Fenris and Bobbie.
But, just like me all those years ago, the thread of your own destiny won’t lead to success at the first time of asking, Artie.
You can train under Fenris, train under the watchful eye of your wife, you can run the ropes in the training ring, take bumps the hard way all day long. You can show guts, fortitude, desire and determination, which I know you already have in spades, to get you through the odd match here and there. But at some point, all those admirable traits just aren’t enough. At some point, you have to bring something other than gritty, steely determination to a fight. Experience, guile, ruthlessness, the ability to flip the switch in your head that will help make the brutal decisions when going gets tough. To be able to find that extra gear you didn’t know you had. A killer instinct. Eyes on the back of your head. You don’t have any of these, Artie. You will, in time. But you don’t have them now. Right now, you’re greener than the grass in my front lawn and I’m in no mood for entertaining the dreams of a rookie who, the further he gets in this tournament, is venturing into deeper, darker and murkier waters that he’s not even remotely equipped to traverse.
Come Climax Control, you’re going to learn very quickly that I am not Justin Smith and I am damn sure not Konrad Raab. In fact, I am not like anything you have ever come up against before or anything you have ever seen in Sin City Wrestling and beyond. Just like the Blast From The Past Tournament will not be the crowning achievement of your fledgling career, Artie. It will not end with yours and Kallie’s hands being raised and the two of you earning your respective shots at World Championship glory. No. Like Gettysburg and General Lee, this match will be the one where everyone will tell you that you bit off way more than you could chew.
Years from now, you’ll look back at this Blast From the Past Tournament and you’ll tell your kids that it was the making of you. That if it wasn’t for this tournament, you wouldn’t be the champion you will be in the years to come. If it wasn’t for facing Sean Parker, you wouldn’t be the professional wrestler you will become one day. This is going to be my gift to you on Sunday, Artie. The gift of perspective you’ve been sorely lacking.
See, right now? You’re not the mighty Achilles leading the Myrmidons into battle. No. You’re Patroclus. Poor, in-over-his-head Patroclus, so eager to prove himself that you’ll jump at the chance to show what you’ve learned, even when others tell you it’s too soon.
You’ve adorned yourself in greaves, a helmet, and armour you’re just not ready to wear yet. You’re wielding a sword and shield that are just too heavy for your tenderfoot soul to bear the burden of carrying. You’ve rushed into battle, your self-confidence growing as you somehow take down adversaries that no one thought you’d be able to take down. But as the pack starts to dwindle, and the bodies begin to fall, you see another warrior on the battlefield, also taking down opponents around him with unbridled ease. Everyone wants to see the clash between Prince Hector, fabled and legendary Trojan Prince soldier and the legendary Achilles. Like I said though, you’re not Achilles. Poor, little Patroclus.
And this is where you’ll be found wanting, Artie. This is where your journey ends. This is where you get found out as the boy trying to prove himself a man. This is when your movements get tracked and your sword swings become telegraphed and your overconfidence becomes your downfall. This is where I unsheathe Masamune from its scabbard and slice its blade across your neck, separating your head from your shoulders before you have even the slightest comprehension of what’s happened. Just like you haven’t the slightest comprehension of what awaits you and Kallie when Climax Control rolls into Pennsylvania.
You’re a raw recruit charging headlong into cannon fire. Admirable. But this isn’t your ordinary skirmish. This is Gettysburg, kid. The ground trembles with the weight of an expectation you’re just not prepared for. And come Sunday, you won’t live to see the sun rise over Little Round Top and all you’ll be is just a footnote in my campaign.
The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.
