Ever since my mother escaped the psych ward that she's been in, from the time that my brothers and I were teenagers...


Correction.


Faked her death and escaped. Unbeknownst by both doctor and staff member alike. Much to the dismay of my brothers and I, who foolishly thought that sort of thing would never be possible. I mean, it's not like it's that outlandish to think that a small woman should be secure in an institution, with a full, operating staff that's supposed to be there - 24/7. Still somehow, someway, she managed to allude the watchful eye of everyone employed in the hospital, possibly kill someone cause there's a random cadaver involved and leave the place, without anyone being the wiser. A lunatic, with severe, anger issues and zero strings attached to reality, did this. It's such an impossible theory it's insane, in itself.


Well, ever since I had this information bestowed upon me, it's like my mind doesn't know how to process things anymore and my inner alien has finally emerged. I feel strange, foreign in my own body. The places that normally made me comfortable and feel safe, are now just weird, dark, wastelands that I find no solace within. Every darkened corner or shadow is foreboding and looming with possibilities of the unknown. These locations are now the sites where monsters might hide, and she could be lurking.


I can't sleep or eat and my nerves are totally shot. Can't even retreat to the activity that used to calm me down in tense situations. Smoking pot, isn't an option anymore. Because I think... nay, I tell myself; over and over again, to the point that the words become a mantra of sorts or some kind of chant... if I let my guard down, even for one second, that's when she'll strike. Like some sort of venomous cobra, swaying unseen, till you stop paying attention and that's when it attacks, sinking its fangs into you. Killing you swiftly, before you have a chance to act.


That is what she does to me and the possibility of her being on the loose, out there somewhere. The thought of that is terrifying because I've convinced myself that she's out there, waiting and watching. For the perfect opportunity to enact revenge. And I believe with all my heart and soul, that if that happens, I will be her primary target. Because that's how it always was when I was younger. I was the target. True, I brought it on myself but I only did that to direct her sights away from my brothers. I shouldn't have had to do that sort of thing at all!


God. This is so fucked! I'm twenty four years old, a fully grown man but right now, on the inside it's like I'm nine and trapped in an attic, all over again. It's utterly insane and completely irrational. Logic is definitely not at play and yet, I find myself crippled by it all. At the mercy of my own panic stricken, anxiety driven thoughts. People talk about super powers and how they make you stronger than most. A fearless, powerful entity to be reckoned with. The advantage of having abilities beyond others, giving you the upper hand in battle. If only they all knew the truth, that my own fucking mind is my greatest arch-nemesis and kryptonite combined.


This isn't anything that I can show outwardly though, so at the same time, I find myself becoming the showman and the liar, once again. Pretending my way through life like I'm some sort of actor in a stage play, portraying that I'm normal and everything's fine. In my own home, no less. Everyday, that my mother is at large, I pull my sleep deprived ass out of bed and I put on that mask. This is what I have to do but as the days and time continue to pass, I can feel that the mask is starting to slowly slip away... what am I going to do when it finally falls off?





Night and day, my brothers and I, have been searching. Scouring the city streets, looking for our mother turned escape artist. We tackle the city in sections, dividing it into portions between the three of us, we systematically comb those areas looking for some kind of sign. Anything that will lead us to her whereabouts. For me it has become an obsession. I think that's because in a way, it feels like this gives me some sort of power over a situation that weakens me, tremendously. Never did I think that the person that tormented me and taught me the true meaning of fear, the entire extent that I was growing up. Who continued to haunt my thoughts on my journey into adulthood. Would... EVER! Eventually become the object that I spent so much of my time hunting for... and yet, here I am - Donovan Blackwater, tracking his mother like some sort of bounty hunter. Life's funny that way, isn't it? Always throwing you them curveballs, hoping for that swing and a miss. However, I am relentless and tireless in my search, if she's out there and I know she is, I will find her and put her back where she belongs. I need to do this, for my own sanity if nothing more.


I arrive back at my apartment, after another full day of endlessly scanning the city streets, late. A quarter after midnight to be exact. Only to find the place empty and dark, with Abigail and Arkin, no where to be found. In my fragile, frazzled state of mind, I tell myself that this is it, you finally driven away the woman you love and she's taken your son with her. Your entire family infrastructure has crumbled apart and dissolved. Good going, you crazy bastard, they're on to you and know that you've been deceiving them... well, mainly I believe that my wife derived this conclusion, I doubt Arkin would go into any complex thought processes like that considering that he's three, put a cardboard box in front of him and his day is set. Anyway, that damned internal voice in my head says, Abigail knows something is up and that I've been keeping things from her and she's tired of my shit. Which is true, I have been keeping things from her, a lot actually but I've convinced myself that it's for her protection. Her own good. When in reality it's just me, hiding what dwells within, afraid that if she sees the true me, the dark, unstable parts... she'll leave me.


Now, standing alone, in the middle of my pitch black apartment, I feel as though I chased her away. Like my secrets and lies, finally did the trick and pulled it off far better than if I would have simply been truthful, from the start. Yet, through this madness that my mind wants to desperately sell to me, at the low, low price of soul crushing guilt and debilitating self pity. Followed by the entire bottle of scotch that's staring me down from the kitchen counter. I manage to power through it all and find my wits, they were at their end but they were still there, nonetheless.


Then I locate my phone and call Abigail. The phone rings three times before I hear someone answer. Lets be clear on one thing here, the voice that answers is not my wife. Nor is it my mother, not that it would make sense for it to be her but you never know, she is a deranged, escaped mental patient, fresh outta the asylum and running amok. Anything is possible. I've seen enough thrillers and horror movies to know that. Anyhow, the voice that greets me, isn't anyone I recognize, all I can tell is that it's a woman. With a very unusual accent, if I could describe it properly, I would say that it sounds like my father, only very sultry, smoky and feminine.


"Hello, lover. I've been waiting for your call."


The words seep through the ear piece, sending chills down my spine.


"Who is this?"


"Oh, you know, a friend. At least, that's what I hope we could be but you know, relationships can be tricky and unpredictable."


"That they can be, tell me..."


I can feel my jaw clench.


"Friend."


Really had to spit that word out and it comes with all the spite that this situation has invoked within me.


"Do you have a name?"


"Well, I'm not sure if I should tell you, I don't like your tone."


"Well, what can you tell me?"


"That I'm with your wife and son. He's cute you know, looks just like his father... even his grandfather, a little in a way."


"You listen to me, you crazy fucking bitch if you hurt..."


"No! You listen! To me! If you want to see your wife and son, alive and each in a solid, whole piece, you'll come to see me."


"Where?"


"I'll text you the coordinates. You have to promise me something though."


"What?"


"That you'll come alone. If I even sense, that those meddlesome brothers of yours are with you... and that goes for your older brother Oliver as well, in spite of him being supposedly off-grid, or your sister Lila... or any, single member of that rag-tag, reject, super squad, your family is dead. And not quick and painlessly dead. Slow agonizing, torturous death. You will find their bodies in fucking pieces... literal shreds! If you find them at all."


"I get it! I'll come alone. You have my word."


"Good. You shall receive a message from me shortly then. Oh and Donovan..."


"What?"


"Pull yourself together. You're starting to look like absolute shit. Byeeee!"


The call ends and I feel like I'm going to puke. Scratch that. I know I'm going to puke. Turning, I rush to the sink and proceed to retch. With shaking hands, I turn on the tap and toss water in my face. This has to be some sort of nightmare, it can't be real. Yet, here it is, plain as day, staring at me straight in the face. On top of everything else that was going on, now here comes another demon that threatens to pull me over the brink.





"Luxington Luxford Luxelle Luxman the third, Esquire and sons."


"I caught your first promo. Seems like you had quite the day. Buying a dog with The Engineer. I see he picked precisely the dog that I would have expected. Fits him perfectly. I'm sure they'll wind up dying together. Doing what they love. Scratching themselves, cussing, watching bad eighties television and twisting light bulbs." (whispers) "That last part means smoking meth." (back to normal tone) "Anyway, you go right on and give that guy a big hug, tell him that comes from all three of The Brothers Blackwater."


"Alright, well now that, that's out of the way, let's get on to business, shall we?"


"Not wanting a title and still defending it. Right then. Well, I'm going to tackle this subject... bullet point style! Lets see how many points I can produce before I reach my conclusion. Here we go..."


• "I didn't choose to pursue the title."
• "I found myself in a title match after beating Dolly Waters."
• "Then I took the title from Hanari Carnes because it was funny and well, I could."
• "Keeping the title was still amusing after that."
• "Boredom set in. Cause who the fuck wants to be latched onto a single show, like they're a fucking Stepford wife, waiting for their husband to come home with a cocktail, in hand?"
• "Enter Thaddeus Duke."
• "Eureka! An idea."
• "Halfway through my pay-per-view match, I changed my mind. I do that quite a bit. I'm soooo changeable. It's a weakness of mine. To be fair, it is my only weakness. Although, I think it adds a bit of charm and intrigue to my already marvelous personality"
• "Lux."


"Wow! Nine points. Nice. Okay, now that, that's over and done with, allow me to clarify something. The last two points that I made, happened back to back, in rapid fire succession. You see, I was in the middle of my fight with T.D and while I promised ol' stink face the title, out of nowhere I thought to myself... nah, I don't want to give it to him. Look at him, he looks like a Punch and Judy puppet. Someone, will come along on his first defense, swat him in the head with a club and take it. I know, why does it matter if I didn't want the title anymore but it does, for reasons unknown even to me. Then immediately after that it came to me, like an epiphany or divine revelation. The heavens parted, there was a brilliant white light and angels on fluffy clouds descended as they played shimmering, golden harps. It was magical. Beautiful. And with this glorious, celestial occurrence, there came a name. Like a bolt of lightening to my brain."


"Lux."


"That's right. Even before our match was set, this fight was foretold. Prophesied. You and I would meet in the ring and I would grant you the title, Lux. Either that, or I was just really fucking high cause I smoked a fat ass blunt before my match and simply came to that conclusion by myself, randomly. With no rhyme or reason, actually backing the choice, whatsoever. Regardless of which, I decided, right then and there, that I would pass the title on to you. You were never meant to be the king/queen, you're meant to be the Savage Saturday Night Stepford Wife! You can pick up a set of pearls, some black pumps and a nice fluffy, fifties looking dress. It'll be perfection. You'll be all set and I'll be free. Free to roam where I please and do whatever the fuck I want."


"C'mon it only makes sense. You're like the poster boy/girl for Savage anyway. After you become the champ, you can finally let that freaky inner female loose and fully embrace it. Now, I am not judging you one bit, when I say that. I mean, my father is currently trapped inside the mind of a chick named - Rocket. Why the fuck would I judge you? That would be asinine. Hey! Maybe you know the key to getting him outta there! You threw yourself into Corey's mind, you have to know how to free a being from another's mind. One would assume, anyway."


"Wait a second. Oh wow. This is serendipitous, indeed. Your name is Lux. Well, back in 2015 my father was running around the XWF, with a bad case of amnesia and guess what? He was going by the name Lux Lyden. I know... freaky, right? It would be one thing if you were both named something mundane or normal but Lux. How many of those do you see? Wrestling in the same federation, no less. It gets even weirder though. Wait for it... wait for it."





"Now there you are... well, your host body, Corey but really same diff by this point, right? Trust me there's a reason behind this. Here's a picture of what my father looked like when he was running around, calling himself, Lux Lyden. I found it in his laboratory. Coincidentally, just now."





"Shut the front door! Look at that shit! You two could have been brothers! Twins! Imagine if you had appeared on the scene back in 2015, there could have been dueling Luxes... Luxen... whatever. In any case that's super weird, right?"


"Hahahaha! I say this like I wasn't planning on dropping that shit on you from the beginning. How'd I do? Was I believable? Did I portray the part perfectly? Sorry, I didn't mean to deceive you or mislead, but it really kind of creeps me out. Seriously, that shit is out of this world. Insane. Makes me feel sorta like I'm in the Twilight Zone. Especially since this occurrence was happenstance. Huh? Kinda makes me wonder, if there's another guy out there that looks like me. Can you imagine? If we ever met, the world would fucking implode. It couldn't handle such absolute perfection uniting in one single place."


"Okie Dokie. I've had my fun. I'm done. Back to a serious tone. Cause despite my previous shenanigans, I am ordinarily an extremely somber and humorless man. Never laughing, intensely staring straight out in almost a menacing way, while I disassemble and reassemble a gun. Strict and stern, like R. Lee Ermey in Full Metal Jacket. Mostly because we shout insults and we're both drill sergeants in the Marines. True Story. I defy you to prove otherwise."


"Alright, for reals this time, lets get back on topic. Our match. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to meet in that ring and really WOW! the crowd. Give them something to stand up and scream about, totally tear off the fuckin' roof and then I'll give you the title. Deal. I'm thinking I'll do my best impression of a possum that's been struck several times by the same exact automobile somehow and then, that'll be it. You can don the pearls and I'll venture abroad. Oh and if you could hook me up on any information about getting my father out of Rocket's brain, that would be great. Assuming you know of a way. Fingers crossed that you do."


"Till next time darling, Donovan Blackwater out."

Donovan Blackwater
Former 1x...