2A: Beings

"Be…"

He has some rather peculiar qualities that tend to shift with the sands. This cold open to his monologues cycles in and then cycles out. I see a frustrating vanity in it, and my woes are compounded further by his steadfast refusal to accept this deformity of mortality. There is a powerful rationale for this resistance in that he possesses such a unique awareness of numerous other aspects of his impermanence that the millstones that still hang from his neck are frequently obfuscated. To use a heretical idiom - that is his cross to bear.

Even so, I was forced to mask my true feelings when he showed me the metal trinkets he had looted from his battles. They were meaningless hunks of tempered ore - glamorous but impractical. Even so, he brimmed with a prideful folly. Ultimately, those false treasures contributed nothing to the overall undertaking. Nay. It was not the trinkets he procured but the means by which he did so that were of relevance. Each triumph sends ripples throughout the realms. This is why the girl is important, impossible though it may seem.

“Be…

That’s what I told you, Ashley. You broke free from The Left Hand the night your pal Jenny Myst and I showed that even their strongest are fallible, and then later that night you paid me a… compliment? I guess? You gave me props for giving it all I had against them. Thanks and all, but I’ve got to break some bad news to you:

We haven’t even scratched the surface of what I have to give.

But let’s dig into this a bit more, Ash. Was that supposed to be some sort of olive branch? An act of contrition? Did you think that words alone were enough to erase what you had done? Oh God, I’ve got some more bad news:

They’re not.

I told you what you needed to do.

Be…

Be a different person. Be better. Show what you have learned from your mistake!

I’m still waiting.

Your silence condemns you.

All we’ve seen from you since is that you’ve fallen in line behind another leader. A leader who has berated you and dragged you through the mud every chance that she got. A leader who revelled in your misfortune.

This is what you’ve learned?

I guess it’s nice that you’ve finally learned Jenny Myst is better than you, but if you’re just going to go from lapdog to lapdog, then what have you really accomplished? You can trade black for glitter but you’re still just the same old Ash Quinn. I mean… best ass in XWF? I beg to differ, ironing board! It looks like it would literally hurt just for you to sit down. I heard there are jeans that can fix that…"

This exemplifies another of his flaws. For all the wisdom he at times demonstrates, he still regresses to these infantile jabs. His environment influences him far more than I am comfortable with. That juvenility consistently encounters positive reinforcement from the social underclass he’s forced to deal with during the circadian cycle. It makes me grateful that I no longer walk that plane.

The worst part is when the delinquency distracts from his vocation. That gormless puppet show risked derailing everything while the plan was still in its formative stages. I was able to deter him in the end, but even so, it no doubt delayed events. Fortunately it flushed the others out into the open, so mayhaps the fates were at work after all.

“So what do we do with you now, Ash? Have you done anything to change my opinion of you?

Not a chance.

You’re the same lost, little girl as you’ve always been. Now you’re just sitting at the mean girls table, but you still don’t fit in. You don’t have the bite, the bark, the wit to keep up. You’re the DUFF.

The thing is, I almost respected you when you joined The Left Hand - as much as I could respect any of them. I liked the fire that it lit in you. You were bold and unflinching, ready to break the world. And boy does it need breaking. At your most intrepid, you even dared to do the impossible - you tried to break me.

I remember your face as you pressed that iron into my skin: there wasn’t a single hint of hesitation in your eyes. Such moxy. Like I said… almost respect-worthy.

Almost.

What was the follow up though? On your end, I mean. We know what it was on my end. The whole damn world does. I haven’t let them forget it. I showed the world the limits of The Left Hand’s power, and in the process, I took my own power back.”


Oh, braggadocious he! He is doing it again. He has a habit of promoting his self-mutilation as some sort of victory. It is duplicitous at its core. He hides behind a blustering bravado and flaunts this act of immolation was a triumph over all evil. It is a facade. I see him with the cameras off. I see when reality sets in. He is haunted by it. That group of vagabonds assaulted his person in such a way that he has still yet to convalesce.

Since then he has sworn revenge, although I am not convinced that he knows how to make that happen. He found a partner, was victorious in a skirmish, but was still left battered and bloodied. Somehow he frames that as a success, all because they failed to keep him grounded. There is some authenticity in that. Though he embraces the fragility of his mortality, he still views himself as other - as though kismet is not rapidly encroaching upon his being.

“What did you do though, Ash? How did you apply this newly found attitude?

You…

Honestly, I don’t even know how to end that sentence. Just what have you been doing?

That Shooting Star championship used to be such a big deal to you. It almost seemed inevitable that you’d eventually get there. What a story that would have been, right? But since you joined The Left Hand, you’ve seemed further and further away from what you desired. And I mean, now you’re even trying to get it for someone else rather than yourself. Goddamn that Jenny has some good tricks up her sleeve. I do respect that. You… you’re still at ‘almost’.

Or, we were at ‘almost’. As you’ve slipped back down into irrelevance, you’ve become harder and harder to respect. So was joining The Left Hand worth it? Did you get what you were looking for?

I doubt it.

All it’s left you with is a big target on your back. They’re after you now. You know that, right? You know that they’re coming for their pound of flesh? I may have reached across the aisle and offered aid to Jenny Myst, but all of that is off the table right now. Not because she abandoned me to my fate. I actually considered forgiving that. No, she’s lost that aid because of you. So the next time The Left Hand comes to burn her, I won’t be there to save her. And I sure as shit won’t be there for you.

I say that, Ash, remembering full well our little tet-a-tet in the locker room several weeks back. You told me that you had the inside scoop that could take The Left Hand down. Even if that were true - and that’s a big ‘if’ - I don’t need nor want your help. Not after what you’ve done. I don’t believe that you even care about it. I’m just the weirdo, right? The freak who was in the wrong place at the wrong time? Nobody cares about the nutjob in the corner.

Flip that, bitch.

Right place, right time.

Because now I’ve seen them for what they really are. And I’ve seen you.

It’s not that I know what you’re capable of, I know what you wish to be capable of. You wish you could be the kind of person you were that night - the kind of person who can bring others to their knees.

But…

That’s. Not. You.

You’re not the kind of person who can stand against the rising tide. Not alone. Not now that your night light has gone out.

You’re afraid of the dark.

That’s why you fled.

Me, though? I’m different. Dark and light, that shit’s all predictable. It’s played out! I’m something else. But you’re not in a position where you can even understand the difference. So as the dark that you supposedly know begins to hunt you - and I still call bullshit on you knowing anything helpful - you should be happy. Because that dark should be a lot more comforting to have hunting you than my alternative.

Rest assured, Ash, I am hunting you.

I know a thing or two about that. Since Snow Job, the bumpkins have been out in force trying to hunt me. You, Ash… you’re my first example of flipping the tables.

I’m not the hunted anymore.

I’m the hunter.

And you’re going to be my first kill. Target number one.”

His knack for survival is under scrutiny. I have eagerly observed each presumptive aggressor. They have come in all shapes and sizes - a cast of deviant miscreants. The Rebellious One painted a literal target on his back, and the metaphor has corporealised.

I have watched as The Heartless One and The Underground King thuggishly joined their accomplice in their assaults. A legend gently padded in the first blow; a human wrecking ball followed. It oscillated back and forth again, striking multiple times. No doubt its momentum will see it return again. But who else will also strike again? The seducer? The pig? The madame?

The latter was intriguing. He could have achieved so much more when she ambushed him; he could have ensured that the task was complete. I assured him that the madame would circumvent her bondage, and she did. I similarly suspect that one of her will escape the explosion. The multiverse is at her disposal. As it will be at his one day.

By his response to my accusations, I surmise that he found comfort in them. I ponder what that means for his future. Is he capable of making the difficult decision? Would he do what needed to be done? Fury was a message, but what if something greater is required? He cannot go on just letting people get away with harming him.

“Target number one on an ever-growing list.

I’m done with it all. I’m done with people like Thaddeus Duke lording over the rest of us - boy did he sure get his comeuppance, right? But are any of us surprised? What goes around comes around.

And I come back around to you.

I’m a very busy man these days. I’m defending myself for one championship, while making new friends for another, but Ash… I still have time for you. Because all of these attempts to take me down are not even close to being enough to do the job.

The entire world is coming after me, and I am thriving. Could you do that? Could you be a world-beater? Could you be a world-breaker?

Ashley… can you bring the entire fucking universe to its knees?

Huh?! CAN YOU?!

That’s what it’s going to take. You need to be the kind of person who can stand at the edge of space and time, two middle fingers in the air, and scream into the unknown: ‘Bring it on!’

Bring it, Ash!

Bring it, Marf!

Bring it, Lycana!

Bring it, Demos!

Bring it, Charlie fucking Nickles!

You want to shoot your shot? Well fucking do it!

Every single one of you motherfuckers: bring it the fuck on!

All of you.

I feel your red eyes peering out from under that intricate braid; I still remember your manipulations when the stakes were highest. I see you all; I hear you all; I can fucking feel you all coming. Come in waves. Come in hoards. Come in brotherhoods! Come in LEGIONS!

I WILL SURVIVE.”

This is the awareness that first captivated me. He has a burgeoning sense of the others. He can perceive them, though they are unclear. It is why he was awoken.

The universe is quivering.

The mortal realm limits him to a more material form of warfare. But he is learning. I must push him to uncover more of his latent endowments. I must draw his attention to the ones who are still obstructed. Aiwass still seeks a way back to this plane, but more and more are already beginning to stir…

...The Obsidian Mirror has been disturbed…

...The queen’s cold breath lingers on the air…

...Ares has been illuminated...-

...Ramesses has awoken...

...And The Beast sits upon the throne...

...I know about them all…

Even the stars grow worrisome: The Elite gather at the Citadel. We are nearing a crisis. It is so much bigger than Lucy around his waist and the voice burned into his hand. In time he will understand his role as the nexus of ghosts.

“I am change. I told Thaddeus Duke that when I first returned. I promised him that the tides would shift.

Can you feel it, pals?

Can you feel it, Ash?

You need to ‘be’...

I ‘AM’.

I am your reckoning.

You’ve had weeks, Ash, but you’ve done nothing to make up for your error. You could have pulled me aside at Snow Job; you could have spoken to me in the locker room; you could have sent me a card with a little unicorn on it that jizzes out the words ‘I’m sorry’ in rainbow cum. But you didn’t. Because you’re not. The one time the damn words even came out of your mouth was because I cornered you. I forced it out of you without even laying a hand on you. So what do you think I’m going to do when only my imagination is the barrier? It’s time to put my theory to the test - my assumption that you’ve learned nothing; that you’re still the same weak and powerless little girl as before.

I am going to break you.

And you’re going to love it.

There’s a strange irony about all of this. This match feels tailor-made for this very occasion. I get to pummel you into oblivion and get you to acknowledge what you’ve done. Because you won’t hate me after all of this. You’ll love me.

I’ve moved past wanting you to say that you’re sorry. I’m going to embarrass you. Because who could love me, right? The ‘patchouli-smelling, homeless-looking, one-handed sack of shit’. Who could love that?

You could.

You will."

He is determined, that is indubitable. His unwavering commitment impresses me more and more. But he is torn. Precariously he balances his promotion of liberty with an unfettered rage that dwells just beneath the surface. The two sides of him lash against each other with force. With each collision, one spills over the top and leaks into the world around him.

I earnestly guide him as best I can towards discovering his being. I tie the unravelled threads together, uniting his halves. They always loosen. His irises always transfigure. He always changes. It is inevitable.

"You will say those words, Ash. If I have to snap every bone in your body to do so.

Inevitable.

If you don’t, you're going to see my face from now until the end of your miserable fucking days. I'll be behind every door of every room you walk into. I'll be grinning back at you in every mirror. My very being will permeate through every fucking drop of fucking water that you will ever fucking see!

I will fucking haunt you until you set this right!

You will feel the flames that I felt. You will beg me to stop.

And I won't.

Not until you tell me that you love me.

Tell me….

Before I Eat Ash Quinn.”

---

2B: The Message

Making her suffer will be a message to the others.

This world will not go quietly into the night.

He will not.

If any of the others take issue with that, then they will have to go through me...



















































(Thanks for the image, Atty!)