As I sit alone on the edge of a cheap murphy bed in some roach-infested motel within the desolate landscape that is Canada; I look at my phone. The meager $80 in my bank account. The followers lost on my Instagram. And to the XWF website where my broken, chapped lips crack the first smile in weeks.

“Micheal Graves…”

My voice is hoarse and venom-filled. No longer letting loose the dulcet, sultry tones I once knew. I lay my phone on the bed and stare at the corrupted, insignificant thing I’ve become in the mirror, the glass stained with fingerprints of past junkies and peasants.

“Even my revenge for stealing the Television title from me won’t be satiated. As just like so many others, you’ve become a puppet under control by the filthy, rotten, communists who curse my existence!”

A croaky laugh exits me like a machine gun as I stand and turn to my suitcase. I stroke the Gucci badge on it, a final remnant of who I was.

“Dude.”

An unimpressed voice slices through the air. I turn around the room seeing no one; my heart rate picks up as I pull the shiv I made out of my jacket pocket. The voice clucks it’s tongue at me.

“Is that a homemade shiv? The hell did you use one of our butt plugs to make that thing!?”

Ours!? I turn to the mirror, seeing myself. But he’s youthful… Beautiful. With glowing. Perfect skin and bountiful curls of hair, wearing a silk kimono. I flick the shiv up as he eyeballs me.

“You’re not real. You’re DEAD!”

“... I’m you, you fucking lunatic! Jesus Christ what are you wearing? … ARE THOSE CARGO SHORTS!?”

I look down and back to the spectre haunting me. It shakes its head in disgust.

“And a leather jacket too? Oh my god, I want to throw up. What happened to us, man?”

“Thaddeus Duke happened!!” I roar at my reflection, spittle flying as I move closer. “He and the rest of those layabouts!!! Those benefit hogs taking up TV time and plummeting stocks! The sea of plotters and conspirators making me the monster you see before you!!! ”

The vision throws up his palms.

“Okay, Alex Jones, take it down a notch. That twink fucked up, yeah, but we’re Dick Powers, baby! We ALWAYS land on our feet like the sex-kitten we are!”

It claws the air with a meow as I shake my head.

“No, no… We’re too far gone now. Nothing to our name… The only thing I can do is destroy his company from the inside… Become a cancer! I’ll work my way up the roster to him until I get close and BAM!”

The ghost flinches as I shove the shiv in the air and twist the blade.

“I’ll take everything away from him like he took everything from me.”

I stare at the shiv with a devilish grin and look back to the mirror, seeing myself again.

“But first…

GRAVES!!!”

Placing the shiv into one of many pockets of my cargo shorts before pacing around the stained room.

“Fitting we see ourselves in the title picture once more you bum! Such a shame that only your vile, misspelled name is the only thing I can exact my revenge upon! Oh yes! HAHAHAHA!!!”

“I SEE THROUGH YOUR DISGUISE!”

“You cannot fool me! It all makes sense! How you’ve grown from being a joke to becoming a force within the slums of Anarchy, dispatching challenger after challenger. All you needed to do was don a disguise and let Thaddeus aim your hand.”

“Isn’t that right…”

“FRANKIE!?!?!?!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Your father forces you to wear this get-up to protect his lineage but I know exactly what you are! A spoiled little nepo-baby! An heir to his throne dressing up like a Saturday morning supervillain because daddy doesn’t pay you much attention anymore does he!? NOoooooo! He’s too busy THROWING AWAY MY FUCKING MONEY!!!!!”

I pant like a beaten dog and wipe the spit from my lips.

“When I get you in that ring, “Micheal”... I will not stop until you lay broken and beaten on the mat, until the outside of your attire and the corpse paint matches the husk within it! I WILL become Anarchy Champion! I WILL get a pay raise! AND I WILL DESTROY YOUR FATHER IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO ON THIS EARTH!!!”

“You have beaten Vita Valenteen, a joke who hasn’t had a wrestling match in fuck knows and who cares! You beat Mark Flynn! Some forgotten, dusty fuck who has Robbie Bourbon’s hand up his ass in some mock revolution! You beat Madison Dyson! HA! Someone who has done so poorly as of late she’s had to convince Dolly Waters of all people to aid her!”

“You have NOTHING, “Graves!” Your victories are meaningless! At least you kept true to the name you adopted and continued to play with children. But now! You’re against me…”

“And I will do whatever it takes to prove to the world that you are NOTHING!”

“AND YOU WILL BE NOTHING LIKE YOUR FATHER MADE ME!!!!”

“I WILL PROVE TO THE WORLD THAT YOU’RE A JOKE LIKE ME!!!!”

“And when you’re littered upon the canvas, a broken child. I will tear your mask away and show the world the crying boy underneath.”

“And I will look past the crowd.”

“Through the cameras broadcasting to millions.”

“And I will see your father staring back at me.”

“And I will take everything away from him like he took everything from me.”

My eyes water as I stare so long into the middle distance picturing my brutality. A second smile forms on my face followed by a sickening laugh I didn't know I could muster. As I wipe my face I turn to the cigarette stained ceiling.

“Vengeance, “Micheal”. I will seek vengeance.”

Fade to black.