Post by strat on Oct 11, 2022 21:57:40 GMT -5
The air hung heavy and stagnant, as though much of the furnishings in my surroundings had not been disturbed in some time. In this light, it was difficult to make out all of the intricate details and embellishments that Le’Andra Black had agonized over to create the ideal parlor room for entertaining the high society she anticipated bringing to the New Orleans Mansion she shared with her husband, Xavier.
Just a slither of daylight crept in at the edge of the blinds that guarded an impressive window to the far wall. Its tapered ray dragging the faintest hint of visibility across his legs as they lay beneath a crushed velvet throw, and as my eyes adjusted, I am able to once again reach out for the chair, where I can brace my arms and lower myself down.
“ XAVIER BLACK HAS BEEN SHOT ” The news anchor’s voice echoed in my head as I looked down toward where his lifeless body lay, though I could only make out parts of him.
Although it was perhaps not Le’Andra’s primary concern, given the circumstance, this meticulously and methodically decorated room had been repurposed as of late. The poseur tables and canapé stations had been stowed off to the side beneath large white dust sheets in favor of a series of amenities and facilities intended to aid her husband in his convalescence.
“ Rivals are as such because they are competing for finite resources. Perpetually in conflict, vying for the right to seize whatever opportunity may come their way. Kill, or be killed. ”
I pause, only briefly, allowing my softly spoken words to float into the air, dispersing as they finally reach the vast ceiling. He would have a house so grand and fanciful that your voice would echo, if it were any more than a gentle conversation.
“ In Botswana, the river Okavango formed an inland delta way above sea level, which managed to create a huge island separated from the rest of the game reserve by miles of deep water. On Duba Plains - as it is called - large swathes of water buffalo live and a couple of lion prides do, too. It’s reasonable to suggest that water buffalo are a valid food for a lion, right? They are big, and powerful, but food nonetheless. You don’t take on a water buffalo unless you really are out of all other options, if you’re the lion.
What this strange natural experiment has taught us is that when confronted with adversity, both the buffalo and the lions drastically exceed the expectations and limitations that are imposed upon them elsewhere in the world, in a world where their options are more vast and plentiful. Duba Plains Lions live on a diet of water buffalo, an incredibly nutrient-rich meat, but that alone does not account for the fact that the female lions grow manes, are several multitudes more muscular and their bones are more dense than female lions anywhere else in the world. They are more intelligent and have adapted their hunting methods to become incredibly adept at taking out water buffalo.
And on the other side of the coin, the buffalo have adapted too. Those found on Duba Plains are some of the most aggressive and hardy buffalo species the world over, and have fashioned ways in which to warn each other of impending danger.
You may consider that this could be a different species of lion, or buffalo, only found here. But you would be wrong. These Plains became isolated from the national game reserve less than fifteen years ago, what you are seeing is evolution fast-forwarded. You are seeing rivals who know that their survival depends on the continued genesis of their thinking. ”
He lays there, still. If I didn’t know differently, I could be easily convinced that the man before me was lying in state. Embalmed and manicured, on display, for his loved ones to pay their respects. His fierce, arrogant features were softened as his permanently clenched jaw rested at last. His lips pressed closed and his eyes, too. Shadows on his prominent, ridged brow from the ray of light make him look even more menacing than when his scowl is fully engaged.
“ With each shot comes a counter-blow. Each move anticipated or reacted to. When one force applies enough pressure, the other responds, trying to top their adversary. Trying to establish their dominance. Gain the higher ground.
You and I, we took each other to places that others simply couldn’t. Standing opposite you conjured something inside of me, an unquenchable thirst that I had not experienced until we crossed paths, and have still not sated. I would be foolish to assume that it wasn’t the same for you. ”
I reach my hand up toward the shape of him beneath the velvet blanket, but leave my hand just short of making contact as I’m distracted by the feel of my phone vibrating in my back pocket. But my phone is the last of my worries right now – at this moment there is nobody else in the world but me and him.
“ The things we did to one another are beyond anything that anyone clinically sane could conceive. At the behest of our own egos we tore families apart, ruined lives, ended careers and sent people to jail so nonchalantly for the mere transgression of having dared move anywhere close to our vast sphere of consuming destruction. The consequences of our clashes still reverberate like devastating aftershocks through the daily experiences of anybody that was unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire. ”
I feel like I can hear footsteps somewhere in the building, but I convince myself that it is paranoia. I’ve looked down on this room for months on end from our house on the waterfront, I know the routine of the nurses that come and go. I know that Le’Andra hasn’t visited in almost three weeks. The baby is demanding, I bet.
“ Together, we created something special. A spark, a glimmer, a momentary rip in the fabric of time and space where everything in the world revolved around us and the rest could be damned. For good reason, too. Because no matter who it was or what they tried to do, it was insignificant in comparison. The gravitas of our influence caused the downfall of dynasties. I could not have done that if the person standing opposite me was not a person like you. I could not and would not have risen to this level without the drive and ambition to match and ultimately defeat you.
When you’re able to tap into the primal part of your brain, all of the window-dressing disappears. All of the facades, they fall away. You’re stripped clean of your social armor and the mirrors you place around you to refract the light just enough to portray you as you hope to be seen shattering into the fragile pieces that they always were. The truth comes out, your truth. That’s what I live for, that is the most powerful feeling I have ever experienced, and I’m hungry for it. Desperate.
That genesis of thought, the tactical evolution from where we were to where we got to, it created a void, a power vacuum beneath us. For a moment there, I was indestructible. It was tangible even in its intangibility, the knowledge that no matter what was in front of us, the other one wouldn’t be far behind. In the shadows, biding their time, waiting to make the next move. Because the hunt goes on. The lion gets hungry again, after all. And now he’s got a taste for water buffalo, and a run-of-the-mill antelope just won’t satisfy him anymore. So he hopes beyond all of it that the change in his ecosystem is permanent, that buffalo is on the menu for the rest of time.
Sure, the buffalo might fight back, and sometimes he’ll come away wounded, but he will eat like a King for the rest of his life– ”
I am cut short in my thoughts by what seems undeniably like the sound of something moving outside. I get to my feet, and carefully choose my path as I traverse almost blindly toward the sound.
“ But then, you got shot. ” My voice rises ever-so-slightly, betraying the emotional undercurrent that I’d hidden with my back to him as I spoke.
As my index finger runs the seam of the fabric blind, and edges it away from the window, the light pours in more fervently than before and it sears into my retinas as they rush to dilate. The pain is uncomfortable, but fleeting, and then I can see. A squirrel scampering through the hedgerow, collecting its late autumn bounty. Erratically moving from one side of the greenery to the other, as if wired on impulse alone and without any sense of a plan.
“ A lot has happened since your shooting. At first, it seemed like a scandal was afoot. Conspiracies started to circle, names started to be mentioned. Funny how it should transpire right as several prominent faces from your past began to emerge from the shadows with impeccable timing. Of course, my name was mentioned, until even the harshest of critics couldn’t deny that I was on the other side of the world, minding my business. It didn’t make sense that I’d meddle in your affairs after you closed down your vanity project. Some people thought Damon Riggs could’ve been capable of it, which I’m sure amused you as he danced on a hot tin roof protesting all too insistently about his morality. Nobody who knows the man would have thought with any shred of seriousness that he was involved. He doesn’t have the ruthlessness needed, despite the many years of built up frustration that he must live with knowing that Kal’s little brother lauds over him with such a volatile mix of arrogance and indifference. Others thought that Johnny Stylez might’ve been behind it. Unfortunate timing on his part to make his dramatic escape from Rikers within days of it happening. But the reality is that he is far too hotheaded and impulsive to have organized anything with the level of detail and planning that it would’ve required to get this job done. The internet sleuths discounted him the fastest. And since then, the rumor mill has quietened down, the new news cycle rolled in and people moved on, as they do. Fickle to the last. ”
Between the grip of my index finger and thumb, I idly roll the beads of the blind’s cord loop like some sort of subconscious rosary. I pressed my back against the window frame and slid into a seated position, letting my shoulder slip between the cord and the blinds. A human barrier between the cord and what it controlled.
“ All eyes were trained on the next moves of our contemporaries. Where would they end up? XWF? OCW? CU:LT? UGWC? Level Up? I took my time, waiting to see how things shook out before making a decision on what I wanted to do. The reality is that throughout the lifetime of FIGHT! NYC, I’d grown incredibly disillusioned. What happened in the final OPW show left my expectations high. With me out of the picture, and you moving from competitor to owner, it left a void. I looked at the people that we fought with and against, and I was certain that we had done a good job and would be leaving our respective legacies in good hands. I looked at Paul Montuori, Brandon Moore, Dane Preston, Joe Montuori, Michelle, even your brother Vincent, and I knew that they could carry the torch. Or I thought that I did.
Lamentable, though it was, to watch as they fell short time after time under your stewardship. I wondered if they were too in awe of the man that they worked for, if that was the reason that they spent month after month falling second best to the likes of Dickie fucking Watson, James Raven and Shawn Warstein. Nomadic journeymen who dine out on name value alone making the best of the rest of us look insignificant. Heavy was the burden of those who tried to walk in our shoes, Xavier.
Even now, in a post-FIGHT world, they struggle to recreate their former successes. Perhaps we were all looking at them through rose-tinted glasses, looking at our own triumphs and projecting that success on those that fell at our feet.
The worst part of it all, to me, is how much it serves to diminish our accomplishments. By this point, half of the industry has had their way with Dane Preston and Paul Montuori. Joe is back to his tried and tested method of cozying up with anybody who carries a clipboard and tries to elevate himself in that way, He’s hanging out with Chris Page now, which should tell you everything you need to know about the choices he is making in his life, regardless of what his win and loss record may look like on paper.
I had so much hope that they would grow into the space we left behind. It has been difficult viewing over the last year or so. Disappointment after disappointment. Every time a big opportunity came and was squandered, it was like reopening a deep wound. In your mind, you look at what is to come and you’re hopeful. Paul had several opportunities to dethrone Dickie Watson, Dane too. The relentless exposure to the truth was soul-destroying. And it isn’t so much the disappointment that gets you, it’s the hope. I wanted them to succeed so strongly that when they came up short, it hit me like it was myself in there.
So when it appeared as though the majority had signed at least partial deals with Level Up Wrestling, it seemed like this would be the place where I would re-emerge. It begin with, it was almost an exhibition, to show my face and to demonstrate directly to our people that they’re blinded by their own bullheaded arrogance.
But in time, it changed. I started to care less about what they saw and what they learned. A big thing that I’ve been working on through the teachings of Buddha is to relinquish control of the things you cannot change. People will do what people will do, and despite all the evidence you may be able to draw upon to show them otherwise, they always know best.
But I got the hunger back. And week by week, adversary after adversary, I have been searching for the release, the satisfaction. Trying to find the one person that I can recreate that magic with, that I could stand across from and know that in their rivalry I will be forced to endure worse things than I could ever anticipate and know that it will drive me to be better than I ever was. ”
I look back down towards him, the porcelain skin of his cheeks contrasted against his neatly styled onyx hair by the inconsistent light as my body moves the material of the blind ever-so-slightly when I breathe. He is clean shaven, groomed, and the smell in the room certainly does not come from him. Even now, in his immediate presence, the aroma of peppermint is there. Faint, but there nonetheless.
“ Which brings me to Sarah... your sister is perhaps one of the only ones who could fit the description and you would be incredibly proud of her, if only you could take a moment to accept the person she has emerged as.
Whatever happened to her whilst she was away, well, you already know. You dealt with her in New York. But here she is unshackled, she’s different. Almost liberated by being out from the shadows of her family. Bats may’ve emerged from a coffin-like cocoon under your stewardship, but since your shooting, she has really gotten a handle on her wings.
There is no doubt in my mind that she’s your sister, to her very core. She can destroy someone in a butterfly’s wingspan, though if she tried to follow it up with a Xavier Black trademark smile, that might not go as well.
I worry for her, though. With each passing day, with each passing interaction, she seems to care less and take more risks. Week by week, I sit and watch as she takes on a new challenge, desperate that she will encounter a setback to slow her down.
Hopeful that her momentum will be halted and she will take pause, yet each of the roadblocks she’s been confronted with, she obliterated. Now she stands alongside me as one of three champions that make up the TriForce. This week, she must rematch the man she took that championship from in order to solidify her opportunity to unify those belts. One last opportunity for my hope to turn to despair.
And the other one is Frank. The Hyena to your Wolf and my Leopard. She performed the same trick here that she did in Pro Wrestling: Excellence, and Outlaw Pro before that. Two matches and a high profile championship victory. Waltzing in, playing up the ditzy idiot stereotype who has no idea what she’s doing, before dropping the proverbial hammer. It surprises me that people are so short-sighted and don’t see it coming. The difference here, though, is that when it comes time to put her money where her mouth is and find out whether she really can compete, she has no element of surprise. We will fight for the opportunity to establish ourselves as the dominant TriForce Champion in a few short weeks and there is nobody who knows her strengths and weaknesses better on this planet than the two people she will share the ring with.
However, she has never fallen into the same pitfalls as the others, she has never faltered in her pursuit of breaking any and every ceiling whether it pertains to her or not. She was always on our heels and it is one of my great hopes that she will find her place among the greats, and be always remembered fondly for her prowess. Despite the fact that she married your twin. ”
In some way, I felt like I was looking for purpose. Why else would I be here, in secret? Why else would I be here at all?
“ But I digress. I did not come here to fill you in on what has happened. When the time comes, I am sure that there are plenty of people who would be willing to do that. No, truly, I came here because I did not know where else to go. I didn’t know who else could understand the discomfort that sweeps through me. The loud, screaming entity that jolts me from my focus whenever the whim decides.
Demi and Charlotte are and will forever remain beyond everything in my life, I trust them completely with each aspect of my being. The good and the bad, the glory and the transgressions, the joy and the sadness. We confront life in unison, and climb each mountain in lockstep. However, they have not fought until their bodies were physically incapable of fighting anymore. They haven’t spent every cent of blood equity a person could expect to earn in a lifetime in one night, only to be unable to finish the job. They haven’t felt themselves ascend to a stratosphere, peerless in their success, to understand the emptiness that follows.
I came here because I hoped you would be able to help me.
The lion is as hungry as ever, and I’m afraid that I’ve lost my lust for hunting. ”
I slowly pull on the cord, raising the blind and allowing the daylight to flood into the room like a deluge. I note that Xavier’s eyes do not react to the sudden change, unlike mine. I’m squinting once more, as I drop to my feet.
Over my shoulder, I look up at the window. It would be too far to see anything at all, gazing back at the spot that I had spent so long observing from. Even if he could’ve looked out of the window, he would have never seen me. Not even my shadow.
And in that moment, the musty and dank lifelessness gave way to something more overpowering. The smell of decomposing organic matter. Something rotten.
My body follows as my boots press into the cold dust-coated marble floor one after the other. As if animatronic, I can feel the muscles of my face contort into a contented smile looking down upon my peaceful rival. I reach down my hand, but I’m unsure if the thought of touching him would incite something unexpected, in me or in him. We are and have always seemed to be interconnected on some level. A level that transcends mortality.
I trace my finger across the silk lapel of his pajama, and then reach down to where I placed my things at his bedside when I got here earlier. As I walk away from this self-made sycophantic confessional booth, I place an eldritch-looking wreath at his feet. Black roses woven between gardenia and a solitary dying red rose with curled up petals laid on top of it.
When I said that I am worried about having lost my motivation, I don’t want that to be mistaken or taken in the wrong way. By no means am I saying that I have no desire to win, or that I am unenthralled by the challenges that lay ahead. I am saying that as a lion that has grown accustomed to eating water buffalo, the prospect of another deer for lunch is unexciting. But I am not intending to go hungry, do you understand?
I am not going to insult your intelligence by trying to position Eli Goode as a water buffalo. He is not. I hoped that the nasty piece of work sitting beneath the surface might emerge with some big fucking horns and take me to deep water, but we saw how that turned out.
When I fought Eli Goode at Combat Evolved, I framed him as a potential rival. I hoped beyond all hope that I would be able to coax something out of him, something that would thrill me and instill a true fight or flight response in me.
I did nothing short of everything to pick him clean to the bone prior to our match, to ensure that the animal that lays beneath the facade would emerge. I knew that if he stood any chance of taking me to that dark place, he would need every ounce of anger and aggression that he could muster, he would have to forego the good boy persona that he threw together with tack and glue to try to win over a girl, he would have to embrace darkness.
What transpired thereafter was something like what I hoped for. He certainly put on the front of being an angry person, shouted at the world and blamed everybody but himself for the predicament that he was in both personally and professionally. The trouble was, as I mentioned at the time, a fiery rage burns hard and fast before fizzling out. Eli Goode ran out of steam long before he had taken me even a few levels deep, he exposed all of his vulnerabilities and second guessed himself at every major turning point.
To his credit, he had opportunities that he could’ve capitalized on. But that’s the problem, instincts are called instincts for a reason. It is very difficult to train bad instincts out of you. Young boxers with a propensity to turn their back on their opponent when the flurry is coming too thick and fast will never un-learn that bad habit – it is just a fact. When the chips are down, we revert to type. Eli’s type is irrational, it’s emotional, reactionary.
He had me dead-to-rights in the center of the ring and he chose to give a piece of mind to my wife. What does that tell you about the man who thinks that he was simply off his game due to all the mind games that came before? What does that tell you about the man who couldn’t stay true to himself let alone his girlfriend, and let his emotions get the better of him, despite explaining ad nauseum how contradictory that would be, and how it would make him ‘as bad as them’.
At EXP31, he exposed it once again. Sleepwalking directly into his own demise because he doesn’t have the foresight to see an oncoming train and think he should get the fuck off the track.
Sarah and myself have a shared lineage in terms of how we learned the business. I grew up taking a beating from her brothers. And she watched. So it wasn’t a surprise that we both had a very similar approach in how we handled that match. Why waste time and energy helping somebody else with their title challenger, when you can take the opportunity to stamp your authority on them right then and there.
Why do less than everything in preparation?
Eli Goode wants to be above it all, he wants to rise above the bullshit and be the bigger person, because he thinks that is what it is going to take to win over his girlfriend. And that is seemingly all he cares about. He doesn’t care about his championship, or the pathway that being the holder of that championship unlocks. He wants to kick the shit out of me because I shined a light in a closet he wanted to keep closed. Because he’s a fraud.
He showed us that he is not a good person at all. And he is not a smart person, either.
Not only did he allow himself to become distracted, he KNEW that this was the move I had made and he KNEW why, yet he still went over the edge and failed to control himself.
There is little evidence that would suggest it would be any different this time around. Eli Goode makes the same mistakes. The same mistakes that ended his Multiplayer pairing. The same mistakes that cost him his Courage championship, the same mistakes that will lead him to obscurity following EXP 32.
From what I have heard, his entire mindset is focused on hoping I’m not as good this time as I was last time. He is still indignant about the part I played with his step-son and Katie. Just as I said prior to Combat Evolved, fortune will not favor the one who cannot accept responsibility for their part in a catastrophe. Eli isolated himself from everyone he ever loved, yet has the audacity to question their loyalty when something comes up. How can he ever expect to improve his outcomes if he still has not demonstrated that he understands how he got there in the first place?
I get the impression from watching Eli at EXP31 that he would be satisfied to exact some form of revenge for what happened prior to losing at Combat Evolved, result be damned, if he can inflict serious damage on me then that would be satisfactory enough.
It could be that he is too preoccupied with his personal life to really put any focus onto his professional one, or it could be that he has come to terms with the fact that there is no realistic way in which he walks out with his dignity and my championship belt.
The other ex-champions in the TriForce ecosystem have been carefully handcrafting their personal legacy - foretelling the linear quest-line fairytale of Competitor, to Champion, to TriForce Heroes and the glory that leads them to the Holy Land where they can face the Final Boss, Duncan Whatever - only for it to be snatched from under them at the finish line. What Buster and Tact lacked in foresight, Eli didn’t.
Before the likes of myself, or Sarah Wolf, or Vhodka Black graced these halls, Tact and Buster likely didn’t see anybody capable of usurping them. But Eli knew. Eli was not so naive as to believe he could pull this off because he knew he was riding a wave of fortune that was so evidently going to crash down as soon as he stepped into the ring with any of the other champions, if not before.
But the one thing Eli has in abundance is hope.
Misguided, naive enthusiasm and hope.
Everyone has a puncher’s chance, right? Monkeys, typewriters, and Shakespeare, right?
What if the water buffalo played his cards right and managed to impale a lion with its horn? It could happen, right?
Yeah. It could happen. But as soon as the buffalo kills the lion, he’s still eating soggy fucking grass and now there’s dead lion blood on it.
Losing is losing. When you lose to the better wrestler and you know they were better, it hurts but at least you learn from it. When you lie to yourself over and over again, utterly convincing yourself that you can do it, and you don’t?
You know what they say.
It isn’t the disappointment of defeat. It’s the hope that kills you. I should know.
I step out into the brisk New Orleans afternoon, and reach down toward my pocket. My phone has not stopped vibrating for much of the last forty minutes.
As Face ID verifies me and unlocks the phone, I start to realize that something bad must have happened.
Sixty-seven missed calls, 25 text messages.
Many of the calls came from Demi, but there were a dozen from the person saved under Sisyphus. I expanded the Messages app, and the latest message from Demi simply read “WHERE ARE YOU?”, but what really caught my attention was the message beneath it, from Sisyphus, which read “BONFIRE.”
As I began to sift through the messages, trying to gather some information about what everybody was so amped up about, another phone call came in.
My heart skipped a beat. The caller ID read “Pegasus”.
“ Yes? ” I answer, curtly.
The panic in her voice confirms my instinct to be worried.
“ Darling, slow down. It’s okay. It’s okay. ” I reassure her, trying to stop her from saying too much over the telephone. “ No, really. If there was any danger, I would tell you. It’s fine. He will be fine. Stay the course, stay the course. ”
