“La plus belle des ruses du diable est de vous persuader qu'il n'existe pas."

("The devil's finest trick is to persuade you that he does not exist.")

― Charles Baudelaire, Paris Spleen



Kansas City, Misery
Monday
Minutes after Monday Night Madness

The cold, damp shower room flashes in and out of existence, from light to dark, as a single dim light swings back and forth from the ceiling. The tile on the floor that was once pure white, is stained with blood and scarred with wear and tear. A few open stalls and urinals decorate the one wall, and across from it, a line of sinks with a single mirror above them. In front of the mirror stands the Doctor, staring at his own reflection in the wall.

Moments ago, the Doctor, once again, became a martyr. A sacrifice to show someones high power here in the organization. One week ago, a familiar setting took place during the final moments of Monday Night Madness. Following his victory over the Loverboy, the Bodyguard of this one superstar continued his effort to take the Doctor down. In which, he and the Loverboy succeeded. Leaving the Doctor face down in a puddle of his won blood in the middle of the ring.

This week, following yet another victory, the Doctor witnessed a similar ending. Defeating Douglas Delacroix lead to the arrival of a former XWF superstar. Returning from a certain hiatus from the organization, was Wyatt Reynolds. The "so-called" devil himself. "How intriguing" the Doctor thought to himself.

As he stares at his reflection, the Doctor smirks as he rubs his bare chest. No burns, scars, cuts, or bruises in sight across his chest. As if his match tonight never existed. He turns and faces us to reveals bloods stains across his face. Cuts and scrapes across his bald head. And most distinctly, a message burnt into his own flesh across his chest; "In Wyatt I Trust". He looks down to it and smiles even more.

The Doctor turns about and reaches for a shirt hanging behind him on a restroom stall. Retrieving a large cigar from one of the pockets, he lights it and pulls a long drag from it. The large dark circles of smoke flood the air.

Doctor D'Ville- Hello, my friends.

The Doctor pulls another large drag from his cigar.

Doctor D'Ville- My triumphs as of late have seemed to opened a few doors for some. Two weeks ago, Mister Loverboy's failed efforts left him once again showing his true colors. Unable to accept his failure, he and his bodyguard took it upon themselves to take their extended aggression out on me. Was I angry about this outburst? Of course not. I am here to help my patients in whatever ways present themselves. If being a martyr is one of them, so be it.

The Doctor turns and faces the mirror once again. The reflection shows the Doctor in his full attire; white suit, derby hat, and shiny black shoes. He chuckles as he leans in a bit and rubs his chin.

Doctor D'Ville- It seems I've been a bit of the center of attention to some as of late. These cries for help never get old to me. I've had the pleasure of being the first encounter in the return of a former XWF superstar, one Wyatt Reynolds. Pleasure to meet you, my friend. Your return here, I'm sure, has shocked the world. I find it quite a pleasure to have been part of it. As I am still somewhat of a newcomer here, I'm a bit unfamiliar with your actions previous to your hiatus. But I'm sure I'll learn lots more about you this week.

The Doctor turns around once again, in his full attire he walks away from the mirror and towards the door. He opens it and walks into his office, with the normal red glow and the fire blazing the background. He approaches a table across the room by his desk and pours himself a drink. After taking a large gulp he approaches his desk and sits behind it, as he normally does during his sessions.

Doctor D'Ville- Allow me to clear the air a bit.

The Doctor blows a large puff of smoke from his cigar into the air and places it in the ashtray in front of him.

Doctor D'Ville- Your apparent relationship with my previous opponent, is of no concern of mine. Spare us of your reasons to align yourself with a man that lacked the ability to follow through with his plans. Mister Delacroix, along with a number of others, has failed to take me down. That is, without outside assistance. Your choice to target me upon your arrival does not surprise me. And you being added into my next session this coming Monday, also does not surprise me. What has stuck in my mind is not your actions, but your words, friend. As you stood over me after making me your personal billboard, you said, "One may smile and smile and be a villain, Doc! And there ain't no question, I'm a villain!" And perhaps you are. I've noticed I have the ability to bring the villain out in some recently. Your actions, as I said, before my arrival are a mystery to me, but I'm sure that your devil-ish ways did not begin with me. Will they end with me? Maybe not. But just know that your simple tactics to get a rise out of me failed. All they've done is made me curious.





Friday

The Ex-Detective wakes up. He sits in the backseat of an old blue Chevy, wrapped up in a suit jacket he wore the previous day. He rises up and tries rubbing the pain away from his face. He stumbles across the middle console on his frail arms and reaches for aspirin. He opens the bottle and pours about seven pills into his mouth and washes it down with a small bottle of whiskey that lays on the floor boards in front of him. He cringes and kicks open the door at his feet.

Climbing out of the vehicle he shivers from the brisk air in the early morning. He lights up a cigarette and nearly falls out of the vehicle. Looking around the streets around him in the small town are barely moving. The town is dead for early morning on a Friday. He reaches for the door handle on the driver's side and pulls it open. Climbing in the driver's seat he notices a small doll sitting on the passenger seat of the car. He stares at it for a moment then picks it up. He continues staring at it for a moment as it smiles back at him with it's old, stitched together face. He tosses it outside of his vehicle and shuts the door. He starts his vehicle and holds his head for another moment. When he picks his head up, he nearly jumps through his skin at the sight of a small girl staring at him through the driver's side window. She dressed in a night gown that stretches down to the top of her feet, where they are bare. Her hair is long and dark and nearly covers her entire face, which is pale as a ghost. After regaining what senses he had, he begins rolling down his window. The girl just stares at him as he looks out at her and reels the window down. She places both of her hands on the window and lets out a scream that should have awakened the entire world. The windows of the vehicle shake and begin to shatter. The Ex-Detective covers his ears and is nearly blown to the other side of the car. The young girls face nearly turns blue as she belts out the blood curdling scream. Holding his head by the sides he feels like he's doing everything in his power to keep his head from exploding on the spot.


The Ex-Detective wakes up. He sits in the backseat of an old blue Chevy, wrapped up in a suit jacket he wore the previous day. He rises up and tries rubbing the pain away from his face. He stumbles across the middle console on his frail arms and reaches for aspirin. He opens the bottle and pours about seven pills into his mouth and washes it down with a small bottle of whiskey that lays on the floor boards in front of him. He cringes and kicks open the door at his feet.

As he places his feet on the ground, he looks around the town. The town is bustling with traffic and people going to and from where they go on a typical Friday morning. He shakes off the night before and climbs into the driver's seat of the vehicle. After a few moments, he starts the vehicle and drives away.


South of Chicago
I-94
Friday

The Doctor walks along an abandoned highway towards his next destination. His next appointment. His next stepping stone. The city of Detroit, Michigan hosts the next XWF event, Monday Night Madness. The Doctor, once again, finds himself across the ring from not just one opponent, but two. From Battle Royals, to tag team matches, to one-on-one matches resulting in multiple participants anyway. Here we are. Days away from another session, where the Doctor will once again show his stance in the federation. As he walks, his briefcase to his side, the clouds above him gather and threaten with sights of lighting, wicked weather. The rain begins to fall at a steady pace, not phasing the Doctor, he continues along.

Doctor D'Ville- On my travels to the next event in Detroit, I've had quite some time to think about my next session. The XWF officials seem to find it necessary, since my induction, to provide me with multiple patients at a time. Which, trust me, is no trouble to your doctor. I find it fascinating they place such responsibility upon me. I have yet to disappoint them, I hope.

My session this Monday, will surely be a night to remember. Not only do I have the man who stood over me last Monday with scarring impacts, but also, a man I've already had the privilege of introducing myself. Do you still have my card, Mister Knight? Do you remember? Your arrival here consisted of you chasing after these "wenches" you claimed to cleanse the XWF of, as you spoke of being this noble avatar of heroism. Since everyone seemed to see through your lies and hypocrisy from the start, I felt leaving you my card was just enough. If you felt the need to come and see the doctor, you would have. Well now, it seems my doors that have remained open this entire time have invited you in. So please, come. Have a seat Mister Knight. Tell me more of these things that haunt you today. I noticed you feel you're a bit of an underdog going into Monday night. I must admit, my friend, it's a shame our private session has been drug out and twisted into just repercussions of previous events. It's a shame that you're now involved in such a dangerous situation, all because of the actions of another man. It's also a shame, that I notice an extreme lack of confidence leaking out of your every word. You will not be ignored, my friend. You will not be in the background. You are just as part of this as Mister Reynolds and I. In fact, this is less about me and more about the two of you. Mister Reynolds with his current state of villainous. And you, with your terrible interpretation of what this is actually about. There is no doubt that Mister Reynolds and I have something to settle now. But the way I look at it, Mister Reynolds was only trying to get his point across. Which he did, to me at least. But don't think for one second that you're going to sit back and watch the two of us destroy each other, just for you to capitalize when the timing's right. Your timing and choices from the get-go, Mister Knight, have never been right. Your arrival to the XWF was nearly the same day as my own. The choices you made, targeting opponents that stretch far out your league, were poor. You approached the entire roster and made enemies with your first few words. I extended my hand to aid you and you ignored it. Now, here we are. Face to face... to face. The three of us, by the time Monday comes around, will have much more to settle than our disagreements or griefs prior to all of this. You Mister Knight, are once again, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My final thoughts I must pass back to Mister Reynolds. One thing has stuck in my mind the past couple of days. Your reference to yourself. The Devil stands before me... and to never trust him. Heh. Well said, my friend. Your villainous behavior has certainly come across as evil. It was most definitely fed from greed. And you've most definitely attempted to steal from me. But let me share something you, Mister Reynolds. The best trick the devil played, was persuading the world that he does not exist. You exposing yourself to the world as you see yourself, has only shown us your hunger for nothing more than the lime light. It has shown us that your evil ways derive from your own inner desires. You've used me to come back to the XWF and make a name for yourself. From your ranch house in Texas, sitting for dinner with your "Momma" and "Daddy", you seen an open window and jumped through it. As you watched my name come up more and more here in the XWF, you just couldn't help yourself, could you? You had to throw your filthy southern drawl into the mix. I've welcomed every challenge that has been placed before me and win or lose I've certainly had an impact. Being the first one to actually volunteer for one of my sessions, I gladly accept you. Just know that after a session with me, my friend, you may get a taste of what the D'Ville is actually capable of.


**The above banner created by Azrael Erubus.
*Song "Southern Man" by Neil Young performed on piano by matt cassidy via YouTube.