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Joachim Bright · (08-15-2018)

/////IN DREAMS/////

The Razor Mother called to him again in dreams. Sliding through a tunnel of partial memories and fantasies composed of half remembered fictions, Joachim Bright lands again in the statue park. It's night once more, stars twinkling overhead as the rows of cement guardians stand watch, vigilant and weeping. The blood issued forth from their eyes, as it always did, thin rivers of essence working a path down their frames and congealing in ponds at the bases.

Joachim was seated on the path leading to the weeping guardians, legs splayed out in front of him. A child's legs. Shocked by the development, he brings his hands up to his face and finds that they too belong to a child. Joachim darts to his feet and to a nearby viewing pool. Gazing in at his reflection, he sees features carved in innocence. A boy again. This had never happened before, not in any of his other dreams.

A haunting sigh cut the air, and the child winced and shuddered. Familiarity in this case breeding not so much contempt but creeping horror. This much was the same every time.

The sighs on the wind gained in ferocity. A moan, and then a sob, building and building in crescendo. This terrible, terrible ritual playing itself out again. Joachim's hands went to his ears, his boy's ears with his dark hair peeking over his lobes, uncut and unattended to for too long. But, as always, the attempt at escape was a meaningless gesture, the supernatural wailing undeterred by flesh and bone.

A shriek cuts the air, followed by uncontrollable sobbing growing stronger and stronger, ever closer. A tingle raced up his spine, an unconscious warning that a threat as at his back and reason and terror waged a war in the child's mind. Turn or run. Turn or run.

Joachim turned, and saw now that the reflecting pool was no longer filled with water but blood thick as plasma. Too thick, creating a crimson muck whose nature was only betrayed by the sickly smell of iron distinctive of blood. It dawned on him that the unearthly crying was bubbling up from the pond's depths now. Slow moving ripples appeared on the surface of the plasma, and something rose from it's depths.

It was gargantuan, but it's features were obscured by the viscous gore painting it. It rose up on spindly legs, like a spider but with far too many legs. It's center mass was too square, too polygonal to be natural. Joachim backed away, beset with horror by the size and sheer unnaturalness of this thing. And yet it somehow felt familiar too.

The blood plasma begin to slip from the beast in nauseating clumps, revealing the full glory of the abomination rising from the depths. The legs were made of intertwined razor wire, scores of strands helixed about each other to form spindly legs. The center mass consisted of a hospital bed from which all the legs protruded. And on the bed, wrapped tight into it with hand and leg cuffs also made of wire, was Joachim's mother.

She was emaciated, her features sallow and cavernous. Her gown was naturally soaked through with blood, which caused it to pull on her bony frame, revealing horrible scars etched into her flesh. Her hair was wispy and dead, and clung wet to her scalp. But worst of all were the eyes, simultaneously pleading and lost. It hurt Joachim to look at them, and the hurt shocked and confused him. To think something in him could feel for this monster. But of course, he knew this beast...this thing....was somehow his mother. The woman who birthed him but was too lost in her own broken psyche to love him properly as a mother should. The boy could feel no anger towards this thing, only pity and fear.

Still trying to back peddle, Joachim hit a tree root and tumbled onto his behind. The thing was on him in an instant, it's sharpened brittle legs closing the distance unnaturally fast so it loomed over him, dripping it's remnants of red plasma down upon him like a foul plague rain. Joachim caught a scream in his throat as it shifted its weight, bringing the hospital bed and the wraith restrained to it closer to him.

It was face to face with him now, the bed shifting horizontally so his Razor Mother was directly above like an insane fun house reflection. Jo averted his face as a speck of blood landed in his eye. But he could feel her drawing closer on top of him, eclipsing any chance of escape. The side of his face tingled, a breath in his ear. He screamed now, but still her voice was louder.

thedarkstarwillshatterandtheswordofaiwasswillbebornitwillbeyousonitwillbeyou

The words merged together into an incomprehensible word salad. Joachim screamed his throat raw in response, screaming and screaming and....

/////IN REALITY/////

...screaming himself awake. Joachim lurched forward in his seat, heart hammering. A cool breeze tickled the sweat on his brow and it took him a moment to realize where he was. Back on the patio of his hotel room. He looked back at the sliding glass door seeing Taye asleep on the bed. He then returned his attention to the edge of the patio, willing himself to calm down. Walking to the barricade now, he looked out upon the lights of the city. Dots of warm orange lights beating back the night. It should have been beautiful, but for now all he could feel was a terrible chill sinking deep into his marrow.

/////THE FOLLOWING DAY////

The shot opens on a Columbian market. Stalls line either end of the street, with vendors chattering and calling out enticements to view their wares in Spanish. The market is crowded today, and Joachim finds he has to use the skills he learned earlier in life to manuever it easily, darting in and out of the throngs, he had to keep his muscle memory at bay and avoid the urge to slip wayward fingers into pockets to seek out wallets and money clips. The skills of a thief came easily to him, and his teachers (typically not much older than he) were oft impressed at how quickly he picked up the trade. Joachim wasn't especially proud of his talent, and had stopped relying on it by the time he turned 15. Of course, he still had to make a living, and employment at that age was often under the table, back breaking, and most of all, scarce. It was around that time he started turning tricks, and in his quieter moments he found himself considering which “talent” had caused him greater shame.

Hey, there you are!

The words, spoken in English, brought him out of his thoughts. Jo turned around to see Mercedes Clarke working her way through the crowd towards him. She was dressed a lot more casually than the last time they had met, wearing khaki shorts and a white Gucci t-shirt. She finally found herself at his side.

Interesting place for a meeting. Thankfully for you, I'm accommodating.

Sorry about that. I kinda like to get out amongst the places and people I travel to, you know?

Mercedes steps aside to allow an old woman to pass. How do you mean?

I've noticed a lot of the talent on this tour tends to keep to themselves in the hotel rooms, or only hit up the touristy spots. I've always thought that was kind of waste though. Stepping outside your comfort zone is half the fun, really getting down into the nitty gritty of the daily culture of a place. Some of these folks are probably gonna be paying to watch me wrestle tomorrow, so the least I can do is see how they live.

Mercedes smiles and makes a strange expression. Jo chuckles awkwardly. What?

Sometimes you sound too good to be true. You gotta have some bodies buried somewhere.

Jo laughs. Nah. I cremated them all. Less evidence.

They resume walking now, taking care not to step on any toes. Speaking of too good to be true, where's that boyfriend of yours?

Is it possible to sexually harass somebody who's not an employee? Jo chides her playfully.

Good God I hope not. But seriously though, that boy is fine and you won the lottery.

He laughs again.I gave him the day off. I figure I have at least enough Spanish in me to snag a couple bananas. He holds up a hand to Mercedes and makes his way towards a stall. The vendor spots him, and Jo responds by gesturing towards his bananas and making a “two” sign. Dos, por favor. The vendor nods and bags up the produce, and Jo produces some money and hands it over before rejoining Mercedes. So am I still popular?

Very. Although you got some competition for eye balls now. Damon Tyler especially is turning heads. But your fan base is pretty secure. In fact, our focus groups gave really positive responses to that National Geographic promo you did.

Jo winces a bit. They did, huh? He takes one of the bananas out and peels it.

Yeah. Before, you were a good, decent kid. Earnest. Fun. And cute doesn't hurt either. But after that, I think you established that you've got the fire in your belly too. The desire to win. People love that kind of hype. And teen girls love a boy who's got some edge.

Still gay though.

Still doesn't matter. But you looked like you had some misgivings when I brought the promo up.

Jo spots a bench off to the side and sits himself down. Mercedes follows suit. He pulls out the other banana and offers it to her, but she declines. He shrugs, puts it back, and starts eating his. It's not me. He says in between mouthfuls.

What, the promo? Because it was a damn good promo.

I was only able to produce that because I was angry. My feelings about Chris Chaos aren't hype, they're legitimate. I can't stand people like him. But that rage isn't who I am, not usually. And to be honest, it scares me a bit. Being like that.

Because you think it makes you like your dad?

Jo chews a bit, and his features sink. Weren't you the one that said I need to separate myself from him?

I did, but it's not going to happen overnight. Mercedes looks out at the crowd. That got to you, didn't it? What Chris said about you sounding like him.

Jo looks right at the camera. Nope.

Mercedes laughs and turns back towards Jo. Okay, okay, we won't give Chris any material. But I think we all know the score.

I just don't want to lose myself in this. Lose myself in anger and animosity, become a different person. But this job, it's hard. And what I want to do here in the XWF by cleaning it up and making it more positive and more open, it's gonna be really hard too. I just....I just want to stay true to myself.

Mercedes puts a hand on his knee and leans in. You should have more faith in yourself. Use your passion as a tool to fight the good fight.

Thanks Master Yoda. Are you always this inspirational with new hires?

Mercedes pretends to take offense. Hey, I AM keeping it professional. I'm offering this advice from a business standpoint too. The fact is that the XWF has been hurting for a strong positive role model for a long, long time. Our reputation isn't exactly the greatest....

I cannot IMAGINE.

Bite me. But yeah, we're always in hot water. People labeling us filth, crapping all over us in the media and calling us the end of civilized culture, blah...blah. We really do need someone like you.

Jo finishes of his banana. No pressure.

None whatsoever. She gets up. But anyway, I got more consultations to do today. Including explaining to VV why so many of the guys backstage want to be “friends” with her.

Bless her innocent heart.

Catch you later, Jo. Tell Taye I said “hi” and “think long and hard about considering bisexuality”.

I will definitely do the former. He waves. Ciao!

He watches Mercedes merge with the crowd before getting up and exiting the market. As he reaches a clearing, his eye catches a piece of dilapidated fencing topped off with a single strand of coiled razor wire. He lingers on the sight a moment, and his heart pounds in his chest yet again. Finally, he tears his eyes away and hurries along, desperate to put it behind him.

/////EVEN MORE LATERER/////

We return to the place this promo series all started, the plaza. The ring crew is putting the finishing touches on setting up the ring and it's environs, working double time under large spot lights. Joachim is seated off to the side in a folding chair, trying not to be in the way but watching the team work.

You got the tingles, Chris? Because I sure do. You know, at the risk of padding your ego, this really is the biggest match of my very short career. I mean, that's not saying TOO awful much considering it's you, but yeah. The tag team championship match was, as far as I'm concerned, a total wash. I didn't even want to be in it and had no intention of helping The Engineer retain those belts. I just didn't care. But this match? It's big time for me. And it's also why it's been so disappointing that a guy as characteristically long winded as you has had so very little to say.

The way I see it, we got a couple options here. Option 1, you just don't know what to do with what I've said. I tore into you in my second spot, and then reversed course a bit in the third to offer to team with you if I win. That offer still stands, by the way. Maybe you're confused, maybe you're thinking it's some kind of mind game or trap. That's on you dude, I already said I don't do that crap. But you probably don't believe me, so here we are.

The second, and more likely scenario....Chris Chaos is being Chris Chaos. Or in other words, you're playing the game.

One of the toughest things to wrap my head around when I first started here was just how much power people attribute to these promo videos. It's just talk, right? It's just bluster. But some people actually walk around acting like the ability to out shit talk your opponent is the single defining factor that wins or loses you the match.

Crazy, right? I didn't get it. I thought it was pretty stupid. But then Mercedes started getting me up to speed, and I started to realize that you can actually learn an awful lot about someone based on these things. But it's not necessarily what they say or the zany skits or the drama that's most insightful. After all, that's just what they WANT you to see. Rather, it's how people say things, and when...now that's where the REALLY good stuff is found.

Chris Chaos has had over a week to answer my offer and/or refute what I had to say about him. And he has just now chosen to. Why?

Well, because if he did respond earlier, he couldn't squeeze something in at the last minute in the dead of night and remove my ability to respond. I believe that's called “deadline dropping”? Man, Taye is right....using industry terms IS fun! Jo smiles cheekily and claps his hands.

Now I'm sure this entire time Chris has probably been in the editing room cooking that particular steaming poo. But he just now decided to unclench and drop it so I can't hit him back.

And that my friends, is bonafide Grade-A chicken shit.

Now, I'm sure Chris will say that's just being strategic. He likes to fancy himself some puppet master. Pulling the strings of everyone in the XWF. The consummate master mind. But naaaaah. That's just window dressing for all the chicken shit. Which makes me wonder, what would that look like anyhow? He muses on this for a bit before continuing.

Chris, if you were so confident in your positions, in your supremacy, in your ability to put me in my place, then why the waiting game? Why hold your A-material so close to your chest? Could it be that maybe you're not so confident after all? And you see, that's the point I've been trying to make all along. That bullies like you, with all their cruelty and overconfidence, usually possess a deep dark pit of insecurity. A pit SO deep that you build up all this obnoxious bullshit on the surface like a scab to try to deflect.

And it's easy to see why you're so insecure. As I said before, you peaked. Oh sure, you get a victory here, a title win there. But it's not the Universal Championship. No, that pinnacle, that apex, continues to allude you time and time again. And it's chipping away at you Chris, bit by bit. Making you question your abilities with each passing day, month, year even. “Am I still good enough?” I dunno, but so far, all signs seem to point to “no”. And thus, the scab grows. It's an endless cycle.

So go ahead. Drop your dead of night, last second promo on my head. Hell, drop two, that's what you're gonna do, right? Remain oblivious to the fact that you're just outing your insecurity and lack of faith in your abilities. Me? I'll be having some naughty times with my ridiculously sexy boyfriend because I'm confident enough in what I've said already. I've got you dead to rights.

Later 'gator. See you on the other side of this massive fight between good and evil.

Joachim makes a gun cocking motion at the camera, and mimes bubbles coming out instead.

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