The Reunification of a Fractured Heart
Part II: Soul
There’s a chill in the air. The sky is dark, the world barely illuminated by the faintest errant beams of moonlight. A masked man sits on the edge of the shore, we know him to be Alyster Black, but one can never be certain as to the true identity of a man such as him. The mask covers all, it hides the wearers true intentions and conceals all that they wish not to share with the world.
The man himself is too preoccupied to question his own identity, having just arrived in this new realm. He finds himself resting on a bed of grey sand, watching as the black water swashes over the edge of this ever expanding beach. The foam backwash rises to meet his bare feet before receding into the black horizon that lays before him.
He lays down almost flat, resting on his elbows with his head risen, swivelling from side to side. The beach appears to have no edge, expanding into a dark abyss at all angles except for where the dark ocean reigns supreme.
This is truly an impossible place. Unrecognised by its only occupant and appearing to only exist to rouse his confusion. He has no memory of how he had arrived, nor any inkling as to where this beach is.
Though he barely has a care in the world he does have hope. And hope drives the masked man to his feet. He cannot wallow away on this beach, he cannot be lost. There’s a tournament to be won. An important tournament. His toes dig into the sand, the gold grains filling the recesses between them as he walks across the sand. Leaving footprints in his wake.
For hours he walks. No matter how far he travels the scenery does not change. He’s not even sure that he has travelled at all. There are no landmarks to judge the distance he’s travelled and every grain of sand is the same. There are no dunes, no hills, nothing. The tide remains the same, water swashing up the exact same range over the shore before receding back into the ocean.
Finally though Alyster encounters something rather unusual, footprints! Someone else is here with him, he needs only to follow their tracks and perhaps they can provide answers as to where this is and what is going on. The masked man is hopeful of that.
That hope runs dry as Alyster steps onto the first footprint and finds that the print matches his foot exactly. He grumbles before bending over and tracing a small X into the sand. He’s a theory and all the time in the world to test it. Onward he marches. For hours, following the footsteps until he reaches a familiar sight, the X he’d drawn into the sand. His theory had been proven, he was alone and this beach was truly an impossible place. With no memory of how he’d arrived and no idea as to what he was supposed to be doing, hope was starting to fade.
He layed back down in the sand. Silent. Motionless. With waning hope.
A gust of wind travels across the sandy shore, picking up sand in its wake and carelessly scattering the grains. Alyster is unmoving, still in the same position, now staring out at the horizon. The sand twirling around him, his inaction allows the gust of wind to almost bury him.
He’s startled, across the horizon he could swear there was a flicker of light. Rising to his feet, he walks out into the tide, the water rushing over his bare feet, sand scattering from between his toes. There it is again, that light. That faint ray of hope. It’s not the sun, it isn’t a star. It’s approaching!
The light increases in size from the smallest dot to a warm presence. A stark contrast to the cold dead beach. As it gets closer Alyster recognises its source, a lamp hanging from the end of an oar, the kind you’d see on a gondola. Indeed there is a boat approaching the beach, and its captain’s identity is a mystery. Perhaps this person is responsible for Alyster being trapped on this beach?
Alyster walks further into the tide to meet with the boat, submerged waist deep before they meet. The boat is being ferried by our fiery guide. The same who had appeared in Alysters dream during our previous adventure (See “Reunification of a Fractured Heart Part I: Hope). The guide is as he had appeared previously, bright, featureless, as if it was on fire but not projecting light to its surroundings. Impossible to describe.
“Apologies, re-commandeering this vessel required more finesse than I’d expected, and my rescue efforts, valiant as they were, have proven to be fruitless. How long have you perceived your time here to have lasted, a year, two?” Its warm Alan Rickman-like voice, smooth as honey and comforting, echoed through the abyss as it spoke. It reached out, offering Alyster a hand which he gladly accepted.
“I’m not sure, I don’t quite remember. I think about a day. Where are we anyway?” Alyster climbed into the boat, nearly losing his footing as the craft rocked back and forth. The guide pointed him to a seat at the head of the boat.
“I was afraid this would happen. Delving into the depths of these waters can destroy the mortal mind. You’re lucky to have only lost your short-term memory.” The guide begins to stir the oar in the waters, turning the board toward the horizon and paddling onwards.
“This ocean is the gateway to the place where you lost your soul. We’re going to collect it.”
Alyster leaned over the edge of the boat, extending his fingertips to water, letting them trail as the boat travelled.
“I lost my soul? I need my soul… How’d I lose it?”
“In your pursuit of the World Championship you put your whole being on the line, when you failed to claim that championship your heart was broken.” It scans its surroundings, making sure that the duo are safe.
This realm is where your soul resides, captured by a powerful being, I doubt that they’ll be willing to part with it.”
“Fuck em, it’s my soul and I’m taking it back. I don’t care how powerful you are, you don’t steal the metaphorical building blocks that make up Alyster Black, not without consequences.”
“It’s easier said than done, but I admire your spirit.”
“Hey!”
“Sorry, poor choice of words. I admire your tenacity.”
“No, not that. Something’s grabbed hold of my wrist.”
Indeed, a skeletal hand has reached up from the depths and taken hold of Alyster, it weakly pulls. Trying to take him down into the depths.
“I wouldn’t worry, the spirits in these waters are weak and frail. Besides, the gate is coming up and we will have to dive. These spirits pale in comparison to what’s waiting for us on the other side.”
Hope reigned supreme for Alyster Black as he easily yanked his arm free of the spirit. He lacked fear, his heart wasn’t yet capable of feeling it. He wondered if this may be an advantage.
The boat washed up to a dock in the middle of the ocean. Attached to nothing, just floating on the water. The boat seemed drawn to it. The guide didn’t even bother mooring the vessel, the boat seemed to remain still and safe on its own.
“This is the place. We dive when you’re ready.”
Alyster nodded his head. He stood up and stared down into the dark depths below. There were no signs of skeletal hands, no spirits close to the surface. He couldn’t see anything, only blackness. Alyster sighed and took a deep breath then leaped from the boat into the water, the guide lept in right behind him.
The masked man kicked his feet and waved his hands, swimming down into the darkness but struggling. The more energy he exerted the slower he seemed to move. The guide shot ahead of him. It didn’t have to move a limb, gliding as if it was flying through the air.
It turned its head back to Alyster,
“This isn’t really water.” It said as clear as day.
Alyster stopped flailing and relaxed. Focusing on moving forward. He began to move as the guide did, propelled by willpower.
They dove deep into the depths below. Disappearing into the darkness. Feeble creatures attempted to put a stop to their efforts but were easily brushed aside. All but one. Alyster felt a slimy appendage grab him by the ankle. It yanked him away from the guide, dragging him away from the path. Alyster fought, but like before the more effort he exerted the worse he fared. Quickly realising this he began to focus, fighting against the appendage.
Still he was being dragged, toward a rock formation, a crack in the wall was where the appendage had appeared from and was where Alyster was being dragged toward. He called for help but the guide was gone. All that there was when he looked outward was darkness. Despite his effort he couldn’t stop the appendage from taking him, in desperation he looked for another way out of his situation.
There! On the rock face, a short distance away from the crack was a door. A wooden door with a golden knob. Alyster willed himself toward it. Moving slowly, fighting the appendage with all his might.
He was so close but still being dragged. He reached out, fingertips brushing over the knob, but the appendage pulled him away. In one last desperate effort the masked man screamed and shot forward, taking the knob and twisting. The door opens and Alyster stumbles through, nearly tripping over the threshold as he finds himself on dry land. There’s no sign that he had been submerged in water, not a drop of water. Whatever had taken hold of him is gone.
He finds himself inside a ballroom. His clothes have been replaced with a black suit, black shirt, and red tie. His bare feet are now covered in black leather shoes. There’s a low hum of jazz being performed by a live band, all of whom are wearing Alyster Black masks, in fact and rather oddly everyone inside the ballroom is wearing an Alyster Black mask.
Taking in his surroundings he notes that the room is round and mid sized, able to fit maybe a hundred people. Not that the capacity for a hundred occupants is required, there’s maybe two to three dozen people enjoying the festivities, as well as wait staff circling the room with various hors d'oeuvres. The walls are adorned with white columns, red curtains hang down between each pillar. The ceiling is dark, as if staring at a blank night sky. The room itself is illuminated by a hanging golden chandelier that sparkles magnificently over a mirrored dance floor. Patrons are spread throughout the room, some dance, others are engaged in idle conversation.
There is, of course, a bar on the wayside that Alyster is immediately drawn to. His journey there is interrupted by one of the waitstaff offering him a thin slice of wagyu beef. Alyster refuses, he’s not hungry, he’s not felt hunger since washing up on the cold beach earlier. As the waiter moves on one of the party goers grabs onto Alyster’s arm. He immediately recognises them as Tommy Bedlam despite the fact that their face is covered with an Alyster Black mask. Perhaps the cowboy hat was what tipped Alyster off.
“Howdy partna. I’m gonna kick your head off, you know that right?” Tommy holds a beer up, toasting himself as a big shit eating grin spreads across his face that while obscured by the mask is obvious to anyone.
Alyster yanked his arm from Tommy’s grasp.
“Fuck off mate. The only shot that counts is the One Shot I take. Buckshots are for cunts who can’t aim.”
Tommy throws his head back, cackling before taking a long sip of his beer through the mask whilst flipping off the X Champion. Alyster could hear him chirping from afar,
“Fake tough guy!”
Skeeved and annoyed by the brash confidence of the second generation star, Alyster continues onward, desperate for a rum and coke. He leans up on the bar, raising a finger to try and garner the bartender’s attention but they’re too busy serving others. Another party goer steals Alyster’s attention.
“Hell of a situation we’ve got here.” Cyrus had his back to the bar, leaning back against it and overlooking the dancefloor. “Never would have happened if I was still the world champion. You know I never received a rematch for my title?”
“I heard.” Alyster lights up in response, he’d always admired Cyrus and had been frothing at the teeth for a chance to fight him.
“You never deserved a shot at Danny.” Alyster’s heart immediately sank as Cyrus voiced his disapproval of him, “This chicanery is really all your fault when you think about it. Krash’s little buddy receives a shot at the World Championship and everything goes to hell.”
“You couldn’t have done any better Truth.” Black retorts.
Cyrus was startled by Alyster. He took a brief moment to adjust his own Alyster Black mask before responding.
“Sorry, I didn’t notice you there. I’ve never noticed you. Even back in CWA when you were running around with Krash.”
Truth was behaving oddly, quickly turning his attention back to the dancefloor and not paying Alyster any more notice. Deciding not to waste anymore time speaking to Cyrus, Alyster turned his attention back to the bartender, who had seemingly vanished into thin air along with all the drinks that had previously sat on the shelves behind the counter.
He left the bar in a huff, scurrying across the room. In the middle of the dancefloor was a friendly-ish face. A man dancing disco in a white jumpsuit.
“Hey Chris! What’s going on man?”
“Hmm?” Peacock’s dancing didn’t stop, not for a moment. Rolling his arms over one another he looked Alyster over. “Oh hey. I deserve the World Championship more than you do.”
Black sighed, “You probably do.”
Chris turned his back to Alyster, shaking his body from side to side as he struck a few poses. “Even if this party doesn’t work out in my favour, I still have a shot whenever I want. And I’m not about to go and pull an Alyster Black with it.”
“Jeez, what the fuck is everyone’s problem with me today?”
“You’re the favourite to win. They all hate you for it. Not me though, this is my time. I’m going to beat everyone here, especially you.” Chris’s voice faded as he disappeared into a group of Alyster Black mask wearing dancers.
“Fuck this.” Alyster began looking for an exit. Scanning the perimeter of the room and finding no obvious outs, the door that had brought him to this room has apparently disappeared.
He wanders through the party and encounters a disturbing sight. Gabrielle, wearing her Black Caramel mask and holding a leash. On the end of that leash on all fours like a good dog is Kayden Knox.
“Ah Gabby, how awful to see you again.”
Gabrielle is nonplussed by Alyster, coming to a stop in front of him and staring him down. The longer she lingers the worse Alyster feels.
“Sorry.” His head dips as his voice lowers.
“I’m so sorry.”
Gabrielle sticks her nose up to Alyster and walks past him as Kayden begins barking at the X Champion. Alyster kicks at him, prompting Kayden to try and bite his ankle. Before he’s able to stomp her dog to death Gabrielle yanks on Kayden’s leash and drags him to safety.
Alyster kicks at the mirrored floor before walking toward one of the many pillars. He leans back against the white marble and slides down to a seated position with his knees raised, arms crossed and head buried.
He’d rather be alone on that cold beach again than caught up in all the drama and conflict again.
“Need a drink?” A familiar voice greets Alyster.
He looks up to the sight of a glass of coke being held in front of his eyes. The aroma of which lets him know that it’s mixed with what he craves.
“Desperately.” He replies as he takes the glass from Michelle and rolls his mask up to free his mouth and begin drinking away his woes.
MvH takes a seat down beside Alyster and begins to nurse her own drink. “Wild party isn’t it tulip?”
“If you can call it one.” Alyster held his nearly empty glass up to the light, casually inspecting it.
“A bad party is still a party. Your enjoyment doesn’t factor into its classification.”
“Right right. So what’s your deal Michelle, everyone here is being a massive prick to me. But you’re being nice.”
Michelle shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not participating in this fight tulip. I’ve no horse in this race. Well, besides that one.” She nods her head toward Gerald Grayson who is trading fists with Chris Peacock on the dancefloor.
“I hope Gerald does well. He was the first person to put up a real fight against me here, and besides Danny is the last one to pin me.”
There was a brief pause during which Michelle couldn’t help but to beam with pride.
“I’ll take an opportunity to conquer the World after I earn it. I’ll have to go through you to do it, but until then you are not my enemy.”
“You’re talking about the F1?” He inquired.
She nodded her head,
“I probably should hate you though. You robbed me of my chance to fight Danny.”
Alyster grunted in response before posing a question.
“Hey, do you think we’re in hell right now?”
“Not right now, no. And probably not ever, at least for me. Gerald is still kicking and he’s my ticket up there.” She turns to Alyster, her voice dropping as she delivers some bad news,
“You’ll end up down there. Your Gerald left you too early, there’s no chance of him saving you now.”
“Probably.” The masked man’s head sank in dismay.
MvH smirked before her attention was captured by the sight of Devin Golden hunched over not even ten metres away from them.
“Now that is just barbaric.”
“What?” He asked swinging his head as Michelle pointed toward The Golden One. Alyster swore under his breath.
“I’ll be right back.”
“No you won’t. But it’s okay, we’re destined to meet again very soon.” Michelle called out after Alyster as he hurried toward The Golden One.
“What the hell are you doing Devin?” Alyster stood over Golden.
“Making improvements.” In his hand was a piece of glass, and scattered around the floor were mannequins, all wearing Alyster Black masks, all freshly cut into by Devin Golden.
“Would you knock it off? It’s fucking creepy.” Alyster clutched at his chest as he watched Devin begin carving a fresh mannequin.
“Sure. I’ve done all I can for these lost souls.” Devin tosses the piece of glass aside and lays down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, or lack thereof, above.
“I made you. You were nothing before I carved your heart out. And now you’ve lost your heart for real. All after you let me down. You should have beat Danny.”
“You carving ‘FWA’ into my chest didn’t make me Devin.”
“Of course it did! I made you, and I made everyone. I mean…I think I made everyone. I thought I had it all figured out. You know none of this is real right?”
“Yeah, I know. It’s all fantasy isn’t it? I’m not really here. This is a dream or something. That’s what it always turns out to be.”
“Nah, this is reality. It’s the reality that we’re all dreaming together. But it’s as real as anything else.”
“That’s very poetic Devin.”
“We’re the only two left now.”
Alyster’s heart skipped a beat. He knew exactly what Devin Golden was about to say.
“The rest of them are gone. Randy, Ryan, Krash, now Danny. You and I are the sole survivors, and the FWA is a worse place for it.” Devin’s eyes dart toward Alyster.
“It’s your fault you know. You’re the reason why Krash and Randy died, and you’re the reason why Danny’s gone and we’re all in this mess.”
The X Champion was growing sick of apologising to people, he refused to in this instance. He raised his arms, placing both hands behind his head and sighing deeply.
“I’ll be gone soon too, then you’ll really be all alone. Isn’t that poetic? You tried to ruin everything that Golden Rock and TxR were building, and it came back to bite you in the ass.”
Alyster’s arms fell by his side, if his heart wasn’t destroyed he would be shedding tears. The thought of Devin Golden finally hanging up the boots, after sharing the battles he had with the X Champion was too depressing to even contemplate.
“At least you’ve given me another chance to be World Champion before I say my final goodbye. Thank you Alyster Black.”
Alyster nodded his head and turned his heel, stepping away from The Golden One. He paused for a moment, looking back over his shoulder.
“Hey Devin.” He called out,
“Is a hotdog a sandwich?”
Devin smirked and cackled as only he could. A reference almost lost to time had tickled him pink.
Alyster turned again and accidentally bumped into someone. This person wasn’t wearing an Alyster Black mask. No, she was wearing her own mask.
“Sorry.” Black remarked before the masked woman shoved him back. He didn’t recognise her at first.
“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. I’m Alyster Black.”
A smile crept across Vampyra’s face. She responded in Japanese, at least Alyster thought it was Japanese, he didn’t understand the language and most of what she said to him sounded like meaningless syllables thrown together to imitate the language. But in spite of his gap in knowledge he understood every word she’d uttered perfectly.
“It’s you!” She beamed, “You’re the one I’m going to fight!”
“Is that right?” The masked man’s mood immediately dropped, he was growing weary of this song and dance.
“I’m going to beat you too. I’m new and you don’t know anything about me. I’m going to surprise you and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” She grinned, baring her fangs. “I’m actually a Japanese wrestler too, you’re jealous of that! You cosplay as one of us, but you never will be. We don’t respect you in Japan, we think you’re a joke.”
He grumbled in response,
“That’s just hurtful.”
“Sure it stings, but does it hurt more than you missing out on fighting Danny again?” She began cackling an evil laugh as she turned around and left Alyster Black alone to contemplate her words.
She was right of course. She’d express every thought that was running through his head. Everyone did now that he thought about it. Everyone had said to him exactly what he imagined they thought about him.
He eyes the stage and makes a beeline toward it. A few wrestlers try to stop him. He pie-faces Caesar before the Roman has a chance to berate him. He ignores Parr as the Prodigy shouts something about Krash being happier teaming with him. The only person to say something nice to him, Lizzie Rose, is brought to tears when he refuses to acknowledge her and Joe Burr is stepped on, having not even shown up on Alyster’s radar.
Black almost stops to trade hands with Shawn Summers after his hated rival intentionally steps on Alyster’s ankle, the same one he’d snapped all those years ago, but he stops and marches onward.
Alyster climbs onto the stage and snatches the microphone from the band’s singer, stopping his mindless scatting. The rest of the band stops playing their instruments causing all eyes to watch the sage.
The masked man taps the microphone before speaking.
“Hey, I just wanted to say that I’ve been having a terrible time at this gala and that you can all go fuck yourselves. When I regain my soul I’m going to fuck you all up and establish myself as the God-King of this shit. Now, if any of you know a way out of here then that’d be much appreciated. Peace!” He drops the microphone on the floor, feedback echoes through the room.
At first the room remains silent. Right before breaking into a venomous uproar. Shouting insults and sluts, flipping off the X Champion, spitting and throwing beer bottles and glasses.
Alyster takes it all in, raising both middle fingers in response as he overlooks the crowd. From the corner of his eye he spots MvH, standing by one of the pillars and holding the curtain covering the wall open. Behind the curtain is another door.
“Of course it’s behind the curtain…that’s fucking obvious.” Alyster kicks himself as he dives off the stage and takes down the rioting group of gala attendees. He rises to his feet quickly and darts toward the waiting MvH but is stopped along the way by a waiting Vampyra kicking him in the face.
He stared up at her from the cold mirrored dance floor.
“Leaving so soon? Don’t you think you should focus a little more on me?” She said whilst stepping on his chest and posing proudly.
“Yeah, probably. Problem is that none of this is about you. It’s about me.”
He takes her by the foot and shoves her off, springing back to his feet before swinging at her. But the luchadores expertly ducks. He swings again and once again she avoids him, this time picking up an empty beer from the floor which she quickly smashes over the back of his head.
Alyster stumbles and swears,
“I’m the goddamn X Champion, you think a beer bottle’s gonna take me out?”
He swings wildly, clumsily. She avoids everything. It’s almost as if she’s inside his head.
The thought repeats itself. He tries to fake her out and she doesn’t flinch. She knew.
Alyster steps back and takes inventory.
“You gonna tell me just why you’re the only person here not wearing one of my masks?”
She smirks as the gale attendees all begin to circle around the duo, blocking Alyster’s exit.
“You strayed from the path and you’ve found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. But you’ve figured this all out haven’t you? Bravo.” She begins to slow clap and the faux-FWA wrestlers join in.
Alyster turns around and begins making his way toward the exit. The crowd doesn’t let him through, not without a fight.
Hands begin to claw at the X Champion, tearing his suit to shreds. Errant punches strike him all over. The crowd begins to collapse over the champion, swarming and suffocating him under their superior numbers.
Vampyra continues to rant whilst the gala attendants beat up Alyster further.
“You’re wasting your time. You’ll never regain what you seek. And in the real world you’re destined to fail. The battle royal, the F1, becoming World Champion. These are unrealistic goals. I mean look at what you’re trying to achieve? How self-centred can you be? You’re only doing this for yourself, you’re only focused on yourself. That’s why you’re going to be thrown out of that battle royal like a chump and it’s why you’re going to lose to Vampyra. You don’t know anything about her. You don’t know what to expect. You’re not prepared.”
Suddenly Black bursts out of the pack, climbing over bodies. His suit is torn to tatters as is his mask. His body is bruised and bloody. He doesn’t care, he thrives off the pain. Alyster begins throwing bombs, rights and lefts that catch every errant attacker. His knees are put to work as are his elbows. His whole body is a weapon.
He manages to break past the pack and makes a run for salvation.
Vampyra continues to call out to him,
“You selfish cunt! You don’t deserve to win this! You had your chance already and you blew it!”
But he ignores her, he’s reached the door and in turn salvation.
MvH is still holding the curtain open. She rolls her eyes as Vampyra continues to shout out to him.
Alyster hesitates for a moment,
“You’re not actually Michelle are you?”
She shrugs her shoulders,
“Are any of us really who we claim to be tulip?”
Food for thought, not worth lingering on. He wanted out of this gala yesterday and reached for the door handle to do so.
Alyster steps through the door and finds himself in a familiar setting. Not one that he’s ever visited before, but one he’s seen a million times. It was a psychiatrist’s office. Green carpet with a beige rug, a glass coffee table sitting in the middle with two couch chairs on either side of it, being overlooked by a nice office desk. The walls are adorned with a pair of bookshelves, each shelf of which is tightly packed with reading material, as well as a long rectangular window sill, of which the blinds are drawn shut. A few beams of light leak through, enough to illuminate the office. Alyster recognises this setting as Dr. Melfi’s office from the Sopranos. The suit he’d worn at the gala has been replaced by a three tone polo shirt and slacks.
He isn’t alone, who should be sitting in Dr. Melfi’s chair but a familiar moustached rouge. Only younger and missing his trademark stache. Young Krashy barely resembles the man he would grow into, sporting longer hair, a well kept beard, and missing the scars and age lines that would distinguish him. This version of Krash looks like he’d just walked out of a 2011 CWA Adrenaline Rush taping.
“So what’s the implication here? That I want to fuck you?” Alyster rolled his eyes at the very notion.
“I was under the impression this was more of a comfort thing. That this would be a fun place for you to let it all out.” Krash sat back, crossing a leg as he pulled a clipboard and pen from seemingly out of nowhere. He clicked the pen and began scribbling notes.
“Like Tony does in the Sopranos.”
“I don’t think you’ve seen the Sopranos.”
“And I think you’re lying to yourself when you say you don’t want to fuck me.” The non-moustached maverick nods his head and waves Alyster toward the empty chair across the coffee table, inviting him to sit. With not many other options available to him, Alyster accepted the invitation.
Krash smiles, it's a comforting smile. Comforting in a way that only Krash can achieve.
“So how are you feeling buddy?”
Alyster sighs and sinks into the chair,
“I dunno. Heartbroken I suppose.”
The non-moustached maverick leans forward, showing concern for his patient.
“And why do you suppose that is?”
“I lost the big match against Danny Toner.”
“Bummer.” He recoils and scribbles down a few more notes.
“Tell me about your relationship with your mother.”
The masked man raises both hands in protest,
“Nope, we’re not doing any of that shit.”
Krash bellows in disappointment,
“Fine.”
“I think I might be dogshit at multiman matches.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“I fucked up both Mile High Massacures that I was in. I’ve lost every Carnal Contendership and Wrestle Royals that I’ve entered. Cibernetico was a nightmare. Just now I got absolutely torn to shreds and practically thrown out of a gala by a bunch of FWA guys dressed up like me.”
Krash hummed, pondering his partner’s observation,
“I don’t think anyone can really consider themselves good at multi-person matches, it’s a matter of luck.”
“If you say so. Didn’t you win one of those CWA battle royals, and a Mile High Massacre? I’d say you’re pretty good at them. Got any advice?”
“Have you tried sitting in the corner and crying? I imagine most everyone in the match would avoid you.”
Alyster sighs in frustration as a smirk crawls over Krash’s face.
“Tell me then, when are you going to stop obsessing over me? When are you going to let me go?”
“I don’t know mate, I miss you more than anything in the world. Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m sick of it too but you’re my best friend and you’re gone. That’s not something you just get over.”
“It’s starting to get pretty creepy is all I’ll say.”
“You shouldn’t have just died without giving me closure then.”
“That’s not how life works.”
There’s a brief pause before Alyster follows up with a question.
“You’re not whatever the hell Vampyra was back there having followed me into this room are you?”
“I can assure you that I’m not. Though if I were, would I be honest with you?”
“I think you would be, cause I think this is all a sick game to you and…and…fuck…” Alyster clutches his chest, doubling over.
“What the hell?”
“Fascinating.” Krash begins to rapidly take notes as Alyster hisses in pain.
The pain quickly fades and is replaced by tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.
“God fucking… I can’t take seeing you anymore man. Why the hell did you leave me?”
“Come on now, you know why. You drove me away.” Krash replies curtly,
“You drove me away with that Leather Boyz stunt and with your incessant prattling about your feelings. Do you know how creepy it is to have someone like you unburden themselves to me all the time?”
“You fucker…we’re supposed to be brothers.”
“Brothers roughhouse, not treat each other like their personal therapists.”
“Explain this then!” Alyster waves a hand, motioning to their surroundings.
Krash shrugs,
“Irony.”
“Why the hell am I crying? I haven’t been able to cry since my heart was…was…Ah it’s you isn’t it? It’s the fact that you’re pretending to be Krash.”
“Krash was the heartbeat of CWA, and the heart of the Gang Stars.”
Alyster hops up to his feet, stumbling around the room.
“This isn’t okay. Drop the act or illusion or whatever. Just end this shit and let me go with my soul in peace.” He opens the blinds but they look out into nothing, it’s pitch-black outside the room. He then moves to the bookcases, pushing each volume of psych literature to the floor.
“Hey! That’s uncalled for.” Krash tuts and rolls his eyes,
“Fine have it your way you big baby.” He snaps his fingers and a blinding light envelops the room.
Alyster blinks and when he opens his eyes he finds himself submerged in the deep once again. Another blinding light sparks from seemingly nowhere and he’s brought to an interrogation room. Two-way mirror, white brick walls, steel table with a perp in handcuffs sitting at the table. Alyster is wearing a suit, not the one he wore to the gala, one that’s more in line with your classic detective. His badge hangs from around his neck, the insignia bears a large X and reads FWA X Champion rather than denoting what police force he belongs to.
The perp in question is a familiar face. Wearing an orange jumpsuit with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth is none other than Danny Toner.
Detective Black slams his fists down on the steel table.
“This isn’t funny!”
Danny simply winks at Black, infuriating him further.
“What’s the goal here? What are you trying to accomplish? You want me to pretend this is Danny? Fine I’ll play along, I’ve got a lot to get off my chest.”
Alyster hops up onto the table, grabbing Danny by the lapels of his jumpsuit and moving in close, practically nose-to-nose with the former World Champion.
“You abandoned me! You abandoned my hatred! We were supposed to fight forever! Don’t you understand what that means? It means forever! Until the end of time! We were supposed to trade hands until there was no one left but us. But you… you… you’re gone. Everyone I loved is gone, I can’t lose everyone I hate too!”
He shakes Danny violently as he screams in his face.
“I was supposed to beat you! I was supposed to take that World Championship from you and I…I guess I did but it wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did. I was supposed to beat you in the fucking ring, not find out I injured you after you beat me!”
Alyster lets go of Danny’s suit. Hopping down from the table and pacing back and forth, still ranting.
“Your leaving has tainted everything. What happens if I win the World Championship now? Huh? Huh? Every awful, vile, poisonous thing you said about me will be proven true. Well guess what Danny, you were right! You were always fucking right! I’m not on your level, you’re better than me. And the only way I could ever hope to become the FWA World Champion is if everyone leaves.”
He kicks out a chair in frustration, sending it flying across the room.
“Randy, Ryan, Krash, now you! There’s no Steve Storme here to hold me down. There’s no Randy Ramon here to kick my fucking head off. Krash sure as fuck isn’t going to break my heart by beating me for the fiftieth time. And you…you fucking broke me, that’s how bad you beat me. You literally broke my heart. I’m on some fucked up journey trying to fix myself. I’m getting sick of it! There was nothing wrong with me, I was fine, I’d gotten over all my issues and I was comfortable. Is that why I couldn’t beat you? Because I was feeling good about myself? Cause I wasn’t hopelessly depressed? Was I missing my edge? FUCK YOU!”
He takes a few deep breaths. Tilting his head toward the ceiling as he calms himself down.
“There, I got it all off my chest. Are we done with all this therapy crap? Can we please move on?”
An otherworldly voice echoes in the room.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Suddenly the brick walls, the table, the mirror, everything is engulfed in flames. Alyster is blinded by the lights. After some blinking his vision is restored. His surroundings have changed. The interrogation room is no more. Instead Alyster finds himself standing on a dirt mound, barefoot. A river of lava rushes by his side, pouring out from the top of a volcano that makes up most of the island and pooling into an ocean of lava that surrounds it.
Above where the sky should be is instead a dark abyss, an ocean. Alyster can see the edges of the tide as it washes over a beach, white foam forming and then sinking back into the sea.
Dead ahead, sat on a throne of bones is a giant red devil. A cartoonish depiction of Satan, only this one is wearing an Alyster Black mask. He appears to be bored, resting an elbow on his throne and in turn, his cheek on his palm. In his other hand he holds a chain link leash, at the end of which is a bright blue apparition. Alyster can only assume that the apparition is his soul.
“I was really beginning to enjoy myself. Thanks a lot for ruining that.”
Alyster sighs,
“Whatever cunt. Just give me back my soul.” He waves toward the apparition, beckoning for it to come to him. It moves forward only to be yanked back by the demon.
“Come on now, you know that I’m not going to give it up that easily. I quite like having it down here. It ties the room together.” A sick, twisted smirk crawls over the demon’s face.
“You didn’t fucking earn it. You didn’t win it from me. I didn’t sell it to you. I lost it in a fruitless endeavour.”
“Sure I earned it. It was all alone, lost and I found it. You know what they say, possession is nine tenths of the law. Finders keepers.”
The demon sits forward, moving its elbow from the armrest of its throne to its thigh, rubbing its chin in thought.
“But I’m not overly cruel, I’m willing to trade. So Alyster Black, what are you willing to give up for your soul?”
Alyster humours the demon.
“What do you want?”
“Forfit the F1 Climaxx and throw yourself out of the battle royal for the World Championship.”
“No deal!” Alyster begins walking toward the throne. He picks up a femur from the dirt and twirls it in his hand, ready to bash the demon with it.
The demon laughs obnoxiously at the sight of Alyster swinging the femur,
“What do you plan on doing with that? You can’t hope to hurt me, not here, not in my domain.”
“That’s the thing isn’t it? This isn’t your domain. It’s mine!” The ocean above crackles with lightning.
“Ah fuck…” The demon readies itself, rising to its feet and raising its free hand which sparks in flame.
The demon lets go of the chain and leaps from its throne, extending its wings and takes flight. It holds a hand out to Alyster, launching a fireball that the masked man swats away with the femur. Another fireball is swatted away just as easily. Alyster holds the femur up like a javelin. He screams at the top of his lungs and lightning strikes the femur, energising it. Alyster throws it, the demon is struck in the shoulder, the femur piercing through flesh, muscle, bone and wing. The demon spirals down into the ocean of lava.
The masked man turns his attention to his captured soul. They run toward each other but as they’re about to embrace and rejoin the demon bursts forth from the lava, screaming a death rattle, its flesh having been melted off. It reaches out with its boney hand and snatches the soul fright before Alyster’s eyes.
“Let it go!” Screams Alyster as he leaps onto the demon’s wrist, slamming his fists down onto the bone.
“I’m so fucking over this. I’m sick of you living in the back of my mind and poisoning me. I’m sick of you trying to get out and ruin everything. I’m sick of you trying to claim what isn’t yours!”
The demon screeches in response,
“You’ve no right to lock me away! All I've ever done is help you and you've let me down at every opportunity! I hate you! I hate you! I. Hate. You. Without me you'd be nothing!”
Alyster stopped, stunned at what the demon had just said. He muttered to himself quietly,
“You’re right.”
The demon held Alyster’s soul above its mouth, unclenching its jaw and ready to swallow it. In a flash Alyster leapt, knocking the soul free from the demon’s grasp. Alyster closed his eyes and clutched his soul tightly, absorbing it inside himself as he in turn fell into the demon’s waiting maw.
When he opened his eyes he found himself laying down in the warm sands of Zandvoort beach. Maskless, shirtless, with a pair of sunglasses on, an umbrella looming over him, and a cigarette in his mouth.
“So you figured it all out at the end there.” His guide’s voice sounded off inside his head.
Alyster nodded,
“I thought for a minute there that we were in hell or tartarus or some shit. And that I was going through some sort of ironic punishment. You know, fighting guys from the FWA outside of the ring. Hanging out with my best friend again in an awful and sterile environment. That whole thing with the boat was very Greek mythology too.”
He pauses, tutting as he thinks more deeply about the situation.
“It wasn’t hell though, it was something almost as awful. It was the very depths of my own mind. It was the pits where all my paranoia and anxiety resides. That’s why everyone was being a prick to me at the gala, they were saying what I believe they really think about me deep down. Krash was too. That thing with Danny, that was just a tease. It was just there to rile me up and make me feel shittier.”
“Atta boy.” The voice echoes.
“Some demon didn’t come and take my soul. I lost it in the place where it belongs.” He exhales, blowing a few smoke rings for his own amusement.
“How embarrassing.”
“I just had to reach inside myself and find it again.”
“And you did it without sacrificing a large part of yourself.”
“Right. At the end there I realised that thing was a part of me, it was the very essence of what makes me the violent son of a bitch everyone knows and loves.”
“Ding-ding-ding. We have a winner.”
“What I don’t get is why it wants me to throw the F1 and battle royal.”
“It probably thinks that if you win the World Championship your urge for violence will be sated and you’ll give up your career.”
“Never. Where the hell did it get that idea?”
“Look at where it resides. All of that negativity, especially the poison that is spawned from your sick mind. Who could blame it for going nuts. And being overworked in your battle with Toner definitely didn’t help matters.”
“Right, so you think I’m ready for the battle royal on Meltdown and Vampyra on Fallout?”
“You overcame your inner demons and reclaimed your soul. There aren't many other tests that can prepare you like that.”
“Yeah, well we saw what happened last time.”
“The journey to becoming worthy is one that you’ve travelled, there’s nothing more to say or do. There’s no more growth for you to achieve. You either do it right now or you do it after you’ve won the F1. The path to get there may be different but the destination is the same.”
“Everything’s almost tied up in a neat little bow. The rest of it is on you, all you have to do is win the World Championship.”
“Easier said.”
“Nothing worth doing is ever easy.”
Alyster nods his head and takes what’s left of his cigarette in hand. He puts it out on the back of his hand, hissing in pain for only a brief moment before breaking out into a smile. He readjusted his position, crossing one leg over the other, placing both hands behind his back and relaxing on the beach in Holland.
