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Joachim Bright · (08-07-2018)

//////Three years ago...//////

A fire crackled nearby as they sat in brown leather furniture, facing each other and waging respective internal debates on who would break the ice first. The room itself was bedecked in generic uplifting Wal-mart brand wall art and a large TV mounted just above the fire that was muted but playing some day time game show. All in all, Joachim and Taye's surroundings screamed posh upper middle class trappings in an effort to get the people meeting here to forget that they were sitting in a detox center, even if just for a moment.

Joachim fumbled with a loose string on his hoodie, casting a glance at a ring of folding chairs. Remnants of a support group meeting that had just let out before the room was relinquished for....this. But what was this? Joachim wondered. He looked up at Taye, his heart giving a sputter just as it always did when he looked at him again after a period of absence. But Taye's eyes were averted, his arms wrapped around himself in a defensive posture. The young man looked depleted, with dark circles under his eyes and an overall sunken demeanor. But even with all that considered he still looked better than he had a week ago, half strung out on heroin and riding the Rush Hour train to oblivion.

Joachim opened his mouth to speak, but he was surprised when Taye beat him to it.

What is this? Taye looked at him finally, but tightened the grip around his abdomen. The plain white tee he wore hugged his frame tight, probably a size too small. But it hinted at his athletic figure.

Jo fumbled, eyes nervously peeling away and then back again. What do you mean?

This. He gestured around him. Why are you here? What do you hope to accomplish?

I accomplished it. I got you here, got you clean. The younger boy replied, more resolutely than he felt.

Taye leaned back against the couch, still not releasing his anxious clutch on his own body. He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again uncertainly as though measuring his words minutely. I don't wanna be just another broken thing you put back together Jo. It's...it's sad....

I help people Taye. You needed....

I don't wanna be a charity case! Taye blurted abruptly, stopping Jo in his tracks. But then Taye held up a hand in a conciliatory fashion, shaking his head reproachfully. No, that was wrong....

It's ok. Tell him.

No, it's not. It's....

Look....I....I couldn't let you do that to yourself anymore. You're so talented, you could do so much. You got second in the National Jeet Kune Do championship at this time last year, the youngest person to ever do that. Just last year, man.

Tell me about it. The pain sang from his voice as he said it, eyes glistening with tears. He reached up to catch one as it fell. I know....I.... He chokes back a hitch in his voice. But no matter what I do....how far I go....I'll always be some

in the eyes of the people who matter to me....

Joachim went to him, sidling up next to him and putting an arm on his shoulder. It's their loss. Seriously. Don't let them do this to you, don't.

Taye looked up at him, something awakening in him as Joachim closed the distance. His expression became inscrutable.

What's wrong?

You're 17, Jo.

I don't understand. But he did.

I'm three years older than you. You're only 17 we....we can't....

Tell him

Oh, uh....no, no! Heh....I don't want....

Huh? You don't?

Tell him. It doesn't matter. Tell him.

Yeah, I mean....no. I want to be your friend, Taye.

Fuck.

Oh. Taye chuckles. I'm an asshole.

A forced smile. Heart hammers like it's gonna shatter. Don't worry about it. Just hang in there okay? I'll drop by next week.

Sure. I look forward to it. Taye pushes through a pregnant pause. Thank you. I mean it.

You're welcome. I love you. Anything you want me to bring you next time? I love you.

I'm dying for some cookie dough ice cream,brother. Can you get me some?

Jo smiles. You got it. I love you. He gets up off the couch, walking backwards towards the door.

Taye brings a hand up for a wave. Joachim returns it awkwardly. He turns towards the door, entering the hallway and rushing for the nearest bathroom. Singing the praises of single occupancy, he slams the door shut behind him, locks it and slides down it, dumping himself unceremoniously to the floor and running his hands through his hair as he bitterly grinds his teeth together in frustration.

FUCK.

///////Now.///////

What else can be said about Chris Chaos that hasn't already been said?

Joachim is standing in the middle of the stone expanse of the Plaza de Bolivar. It's early, so he's alone save for a sea of birds.

[Image: Plaza_De_Bolivar_en_La_Ca-Plaza_de_Boliv...00x375.jpg]

[Image: Plaza_De_Bolivar_en_La_Ca-Plaza_de_Boliv...00x375.jpg]

Well I'm gonna give it a shot.

He raises his hand and counts down on his fingers 3...2....1 (the last one is the middle finger, naturally)....

You are a festering boil on the taint of the XWF. A perpetually unhealing sore in a hard to reach place that simply refuses to go away. The XWF feels you every time it sits down, walks, takes a crap.....basically whenever it does anything. Always there. Always irritating. Offering nothing of any substance, just a steady stream of itching and pus and ruined underwear.

You're a self-styled villain here, the EXACT kind of person I came to the XWF to stop. Unfortunately you are so jacked up on your own ego you miss the fact that you are far from threat numero uno. Or even numero dos. In fact, you rate solidly BELOW your own girlfriend. Which, by the by, I was up FAAAAR too late last night watching the scene of Jenny bitch slapping you on endless repeat, a scene that positively lit up the Twitter sphere like a Roman Candle in the mouth of a Big Mouth Billy Bass during a drunken July 4th frat bender. #ChrisMyst #ChaoticCuck #BetaMale.

You know what's worse than being a self styled “bad guy”. Being an ineffective one. Chris, you have consistently shown that despite being one of the longest tenured guys on the roster your inability to climb up out of the grave of your own zombified career has made you a certified joke. For every step forward you take two steps back, and despite supposedly having a laser focus on climbing back up the ladder here in the XWF you can't even seem to figure out how to open it.

Joachim puts a hand to his mouth in mock surprise.

Oh no, but isn't Jo-jo supposed to play nice? Be respectful? Be a “good guy”? Well sure. Against people. But not against open sores like you Chris. You forfeited your right to basic civility a long time ago. When exactly? I got two words for you.

Jim Caedus.

Now, I know The Engineer has pretty much garnered a monopoly out of milking the poor guy's legacy here, but I've got a bit of skin in that game too. A very, very little bit....but still. Let me get you up to speed here Chris, because I'm sure you're in a perpetual sphere of ignorance regarding anything that happens outside of your own promos.

See, back when The Engineer and I were on speaking terms, he tried to bring me to the dance by introducing me to Jim as a prospective mentor. I met with Jim. Spoke with him for a long while. Hell, I LIKED Jim. But it occurred to me just what a masterstroke it was on Dexter's part to try to hook me up with Jim. Because for as dominant and charismatic and endearing as Jim Caedus was, he was also a deeply, profoundly broken human being. A man persistently at war with crippling insecurity. A man trying to escape a busted past full of bridges he burned and friendships he ended because of the allure of drugs and his own undiagnosed mental illness.

In short, Jim Caedus was a man who needed help. And Dexter knew that. He knew I would see that. And he knew I would be drawn to Jim because of that.

Of course, we knew that was not to be. The stress of his main event match with The Engineer caused Jim to break down completely. In fact, his break down was so catastrophic that even a man as fundamentally immoral as The Engineer felt no satisfaction in beating him. Seriously, watch the end of that match again. Engy snapped up that title and left before the bell even stopped ringing.

The whole thing was a damn tragedy. And yet, who was there to swoop in on that tragedy like a vulture smelling fresh carrion?

You.

Don't worry Chris, you can stop fast forwarding to the part where I say your name again. This is where you come in. Because you were the one to take that tragedy and up the ante by murdering a man who was already in arguably the deepest darkest pit he had already been in. And do you know what the absolute worst, sickest part of ALL of this is? You used a broken man to hype a faction that has done nothing but underwhelm. You killed a man and stacked a mountain of feces on top of him.

Think about that a second. A man's life was forfeit for Empire. A faction that thus far has been as equally well known for dropping mid card titles in record time as it is for having a revolving door of members, one of whom is literally a NAZI.

A human being DIED for this.

Do you think that's funny Chris? Don't get me wrong, your ego is way too large for you to have purposefully failed this much just to spite Jim Caedus, so I know that's not it. No, what you have done is murder a man for mediocrity.

I hate you for that. I hate you with every fiber of my being for that. And you know what, it's funny in a morbid kind of way, because I should probably hate you LESS for sucking as a villain so much because, hey, at least you're bad at it. But nope, I hate you more. You buried a disturbed man so you could half ass your way into a stupid heel faction that feeds your own ego.

Good God you are just literally the worst.

So I'm gonna take back that tag match loss where I walked out on Dexter and I'm going to beat you. I'm going to beat you for Jim and for everybody else you've wronged. I'm going to beat you for the sheer badness you represent, and confusingly I'm going to beat you for sucking at that aforementioned badness.

Do you hear me? You are going to lose to a 175 pound (on a good day) rookie in his fourth match ever. And your credibility will be forever forfeit. If it wasn't already. It probably was. So it'll be forfeit-er. That's a word now.

Come at me bro.

Taye calls out from off camera. REEEEEAAALLLYYYY need to work on your closers.

Yeah, I know. But everything else was solid, right?

Chills, lovey.

The sun breaks over the historic palacial building just behind Jo as the feed cuts to black.

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