Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Doctor Louis D'Ville · (05-23-2015)

"I used to live in a room full of mirrors; all I could see was me. I take my spirit and I crash my mirrors, now the whole world is here for me to see."

â€• Jimi Hendrix

You can learn a lot from your reflection . . .

Mirror, mirror show me clear, the fate of a Loverboy as the day draws near . . .

"What's this favor, then?"

I want you to assassinate Vinnie Lane.

The Ex-Detective wakes up. He's sitting in the driver's seat of his car. His sunglasses are half on and half off of his face as he slouched down in his seat. They were unnecessary, however, because the sun was in hiding today. The rain was relentless.

A half burnt cigarette lay rest between his fingers and his hands lay rest by his sides. He raises his head and opens his eyes. As he looks around and removes the sunglasses the rest of the way from his face. After he pulls himself up in the seat, with a trembling hand he slowly puckers around the charred roll of tobacco and fishes around in his pocket until he pulls out a lighter.

As the rain lets up, he's able to see around the car a little bit more and decides to step out and have a look around. He noticed the couple of drips of whiskey left in a flask inside his jacket pocket a few minutes ago... Could explain the black out. Either way, this is nothing far from what he's used to.

He stepped from the vehicle and pulled his jacket close against the back of his neck. The day is muggy, but the rain is still a little cold. He turns around and realizes he's facing an army of gravestones.

What. The fuck.

The Ex-Detective realizes he has come-to in some strange places before, but a cemetery? This is definitely a first.

He decides to pull the rest of the whiskey left in the flask. Then, without hesitation, he begins to walk towards the gate to enter the graveyard.

There's a lot of cars lined up near the entrance and in a small parking lot across the road from it. He was parked quite a ways up the street along the gate. He thought about hopping the gate up by the car, but that would look a little strange and with it being the middle of the day and all.

The Ex-Detective walks up a small path and notices the clouds begin to part in the sky. A beam of sunlight shines down from the top of a hill in the distance. He notices a large group of people slowly drifting away from the hill top, leaving only two. The Ex-Detective slowly makes his way towards the hill top, he watches as the one silhouette in the distance seems to comfort the other. After a few moments, there is only one silhouette. A tall, slender woman, it would appear, dressed from head to toe in all black.

Whether it seemed appropriate or not, it never crossed his mind, he continued to approach the hilltop. When he reached the top, the tall woman dressed in black stood tall and still in front of a lone tombstone.

Excuse me?

"?Em esucxe"

The Ex-Detective swallowed part of his words. His brain knew what to say, but did his mouth?

Am I speaking in tongues or something?

Hello?? Can you hear me?

"?Em raeh uoy nac ??Olleh"

?!

The Ex-Detective could compare speaking to spitting out shard of glass right now. He reaches out and touches the woman in black's shoulder and like a piece of plastic she fell forward to the ground.

It startled him at first, but then curiosity got the best of him and he reached down and rolled her over. The lifeless face of a life-sized lifeless plastic doll stared past the Ex-Detective into the clearing in the sky.

Funeral Barbie??

He picks up the doll and stands it back up on it's feet. He shakes his head then directs his attention to the tombstone that stood before him. He knelt down and rubbed his eyes. It seemed blurred to him. Jumbled. Indecipherable.

The Ex-Detective cocks his head and takes a deep hit from his cigarette. He blasts the front of the tombstone with smoke and it slowly becomes clearer and clearer. He reaches out and touches it as if to slowly uncover the lettering engraved into the marble.

A smile stretches across the Ex-Detectives face. He takes one last hit of his cigarette before reaching out with it and burning it out on the face of the tombstone. The end of it begins to spark tremendously and slowly begins burning into the marble. It cracks the face of it and splits the tombstone completely in half. The crack follows down through it and continues into the ground and in between the Ex-Detective's feet. He turns around and follows the crack as it continues to split the ground. The clouds that were begin to clear in the sky have been taken over by a thick sheet of dark clouds that rolled into the scene like a large carpet. The wind picked up and thunder begin to rumble in the sky and surround him with the sound. A single bolt of lighting strikes down and hits the tall tree standing at the hilltop with him. It instantaneously bursts into flames and slowly begins to crumble nearly on top of the Ex-Detective. A limb falls beside him and manages to throw enough ash and coals to ignite his arm. He begins to wave it frantically in the air while trying to rip off the jacket with his other hand.

The Ex-Detective flaps his arms frantically up and down as if he was trying to fly for the first time. He does it so much that he falls face first onto the floor from his chair. The Doctor chuckles out loud as the Ex-Detective begins to come-to.

Have a nice trip, Trevor?

"What the fuck was that?!"

The Ex-Detective looks up at the mirror and sees nothing but a reflection of himself and the room around him.

I told you the mirror was special.

The Ex-Detective stumbles up to his feet.

"This is really freaking me out, pal. I don't know what the fuck's real and what the fuck isn't anymore. This bullshit with the mirror and did you just ask me to kill someone?!"

Well, I wasn't really asking, but I brought it up. Yes.

"What?! Why?! Why me? Why kill someone?"

You know, Trevor. I believe I do owe somewhat of an explanation, I suppose. My purpose here, to this day, still seems unclear to even the ones that watched my arrival. They've heard me say it a thousand times as I continue to feel like a broken record. Just put me on 'repeat', ladies and gentlemen. It apparent that none of you seem to listen the first time. Or the second. Or third.

It would be appropriate, as well. I thought Mister Loverboy and I were far past introductions, but . . . I seem to be wrong again. What he doesn't understand though is, I DO know you, Vinnie. I know you every well. You don't have to replay your 'Behind the Music' for me again. Please, spare me. Spare us all. I know you've lived the rock n' roll dream your entire life. Age seventeen, looked down upon because of your golden locks and your mascara. You were determined to convince a certain someone that your choice of life would benefit you more than anything they could ever think up. Besides, this was your calling. The fame. The fortune. The rock n' roll. The woman. Who wouldn't ask for that type of life?

Yes. What a life.

An empire built with piss, semen, and vomit. What a kingdom. I know how rock stardom is, Mister Lane. You go from city to city. Town to town. You put on your little show. How many illegitimate little Vinnie Lane's do you think there are out in the world today, hm? And don't tell me that after all of the drugs and gallons of Jack and Cokes that you had the where-about to throw on a sock. You make me sick.

Here we are thirteen years later and what have you amounted to? Of course you're one of the most recognizable fellows in the world right now. The XWF has that power to boost someone's popularity like that. But see, it's the reason your out here week in and week out busting your balls to make an impression. How many other guys have to do that around here? I certainly don't. Do you think the next XWF fan will have no clue who the King is? The reason your there after Monday, week in and week out, is because you have to be, Mister Loverboy. You have to continue to make a presence and you have to continue to show that pretty face. Otherwise, your greatest fear will become a reality, you will indeed just fade away. You will be forgotten. And you will not be missed. I don't care how many times your throw your credentials and all of those stupid statistics in my face. Who you've beaten in the past is irrelevant. BEYOND irrelevant. Theo Pryce, John Samuels, Gator, Azrael . . . They're things of the past, Loverboy. A new era began when I stepped foot through the ropes for the very first time. I'm sure that in the XWF's many years, a few dark clouds have rolled in. But nothing like the one that I brought with me. From the first time that I said, 'Hello', the shadow has never left. The chill in the air has never ceased. And the inevitable remains infallible.

I don't understand what made you think stacking statistics next time mine made you look any more threatening. I never even stepped into the ring with half of those fellows, so your claims are pointless. I bet if I look back, you didn't beat a single one of them one on one. You were the Queen of Teams there for a while. "Vinnie and the Boys". All that did was cause drama stacked on top of more drama. You seem to surround yourself with that type of thing don't you, Loverboy? Always craving the attention and always opening your mouth. So much, it's put you in some strange situations before, hasn't it? You see, it's not your skill in the squared circle that's made you this renowned, Mister Lane. It's your constant presence when there's something afoot.

Let's back track a bit, shall we? The Doctor arrives on the scene and blows everyone out of the water, right? Impressed the right people. Won the right matches, including one with yourself. Ya-da. Ya-da. When it came down to who was the Superstar of the Month of September, you mentioned controversy and, in my opinion, stupidity from both parties costs you that award.

Controversy.

Vinnie Lane.

Two peas in a pod, my friend. I'm sure that my victory over you and just one failed Television Title attempt struck against me had nothing to do with the outcome of that. But there you were, defending yourself for some reason, like always. But all of that effort and bitching didn't lay to waste. Several, several, several months later you were finally awarded with Superstar of the Month. You have my congratulations, if I haven't already given them to you. It got to the point where there was really no one else to give the title to . . . So yeah, congrats, Vinnie.

Prior to all of that, you won the XWF Trios Titles! How exciting to win a title so quickly after your debut in this fine organization. Unfortunately, your friends didn't last long and the titles seemed to be . . . Taken out of commission a bit, am I right? That didn't stop you from carrying those little things around with you everywhere you went though! It took the XWF a few months to come up with something. You thought you chose wisely until you had to beat the two gentlemen you chose as your partners. Why do you think the XWF treated you the way they did, Mister Lane? You must be extremely well liked but the upper management to be thrown in stupid little games such as these. I've never had to deal with anything like that, to be honest. So anyway, you won, of course. The victory allowed you, Mister Gilmour, and Morbid Angel to team up and lose the titles to the Three Kings. So, minus the three month or so title reign you had with the titles. You never once managed to defend them. Did you forget to mention that credential during your last little storytime?

See, I know your story, my friend. You managed to actually make a few friends along the way to your Hart Title victory though. I can't say you are the tightest group to this day, but I'm sure Mister MacClay wasn't hesitant to provide you with some early favors. That Stampede looked awful easy, Mister Lane. I'm not sure what types of strings he pulled for you from the get-go, but the Asylum and myself placing Defiance in such disarray before the event surely played a decent part, as well. Is that the one victory you mentioned over Austin Fernando? Throwing him over the top rope? Hm. Talk about taking whatever you can. I mean, I know I gloated a bit about every kick out I made as the undefeated XWF X-Treme Champion, but I didn't count each one as say . . . A victory. But it's fine. Take whatever you can get, Loverboy. We know how you are.

As I said at the beginning, Mister Lane. It seems you've once against misconstrued what is I do here. My first time here I explained it over and over again. Simply put. I'm here to cure the XWF from all ailments. I've done a pretty good job so far, don't you think? Nothing is out of place. Everything is intact. Look around you. Have you ever seen such a prosperous organization in your life? I brought this light to the XWF. With all of my darkness and stormy whether, I placed a seed of prosperity in the center of it all. You can't deny that the XWF is the place to be right now. Look at your success, Mister Lane. Look at what you've become. You're a champion. Where do you suppose you would be if I never came here? Who do you suppose would be ruling at the top of the mountain? Would it be Gator? Would it be Morbid Angel? Would it be you?! Who knows. But if I never arrived here to place the bar where I did, none of you would be as talented or as successful as you believe you are. When I laid my first patient down with my Lobotomy, the entire world of the XWF stopped. They stopped, looked over their shoulder, and watched. That strange feeling your stomach? That chill that ran up your spine? That, my friends, was reality slapping you in the face. Whether the feeling was brought on by fear, lack of confidence, or something else. Every single person around that night began doubting their abilities. They doubted their true worth here in the XWF. If I didn't make you better, you perished. Those that did learn to adapt to their surroundings are still here. But they're waiting in hiding. In the shadows they wait for the right time to show their stupid little faces. Perfect example is right in front of me. Who else? Mister Lane.

Call us polar opposites. Arch enemies. Whatever you like. Say that I've been avoiding you . . . Whatever. The truth of the matter is that you won the Number One Contendership match for the Universal Title five months ago. Five months, Mister Lane. I have been Universal Champion for three of those five months.

Who avoided who?

You could have had your long awaited rematch that's been haunting you for ages whenever you wanted it. I've never backed down from a challenge.

Well, wait a moment. I did tell Mister Fernando he was in no position to be challenging me. Struck a deal with him and then put him in the proper place. So, I didn't exactly back down, but I procrastinated a bit. Hm. Much like you did, Loverboy! Was it procrastination or were you just biding your time? Training harder and harder everyday to ensure your victory at Bad Medicine? All of the training in the world isn't going to save you, my friend. You should know this. Also, I figured you'd be the last person to refer my talents back to my age. Because the fact I look eighty years old stopped me from dropping you on your head back in September, right?

Strength.

Speed.

Youth.

You could hold all of those cards, Vinnie. But I hold the ace in my back pocket. The gold around my waist is proof that no other competitor in this company can use any of those three things against me. Many have tried, some twice even. Some have even succeeded. But the gold does the talking. Your third or fourth place trophy. Your pink little prize . . . I would focus on holding onto that quite tightly the next couple of days, Loverboy. You don't want to walk away completely empty handed, anyway. That way, after Bad Medicine, you can forget about this entire week, or maybe pretend it was just a long bad dream. You can wear that belt with whatever pride that's left that you can scrape up and go back to representing Madness like a good little Loverboy. I'll continue to represent the XWF and rule over it like the dark cloud above it.

The Ex-Detective looks up at the Doctor.

"Back to to Madness? I thought you wanted him... gone?"

Well, of course. A mission is a mission, my friend. You sound convinced?

"No, no, no, no, no."

The Ex-Detective shoots up out of the chair.

"I'm not killing anybody, man. No way."

The Ex-Detective reaches over the desk and pulls a small glass bottle to his mouth. He gulps then immediately spits the liquid into the air.

"What the fuck?!"

That'd be kerosene for the lantern.

The Doctor points across the room to a hanging lantern near the door.

"Why the fuck would yo..--"

The Ex-Detective forgets the kerosene as he reaches for another bottle.

"Is this one alright?"

The finest bourbon . . .

The Ex-Detective takes a huge drink and barely manages to swallow it. The kerosene tasted a bit better he thought.

"Why do you want to kill this guy, anyway? Are you that afraid to fight him, or what?"

Nonsense!

I never mentioned WHEN, now did I? His demise could come long after Bad Medicine, or perhaps, the night of!

"But why?"

Why?

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Have you not been listening to me this entire time, Trevor? Remarkable, you're so far away from being you, yet you still retain the attention span of a complete alcoholic.

Hm.

The reason why, Mister Dedntik is because I've been in this fine federation for nearly ten months. The words of Vinnie Lane is I've had it easy up until now. I have but a single blemish on my record and I continue to shut everyone down. I'm sure I've made it look easy, Mister Lane. Rest assured, it kind of has been. Beating everyone around you and everyone you encounter kind of makes you the best. And when you're the best there's no one that can touch you. The reason of the Loverboy's demise leads straight to why I'm here. The filth. The vermin. The disease that plagues the XWF all originates with Vinnie Lane. He is poison.

The controversies.

The discrepancies.

All come back on you, Mister Lane. When I first arrived here, I had no idea I'd spend the time I have here. No clue. But in a short period of time I grew to love the place that I ascended here to save. I will not sit back and watch you destroy it. The thought of you becoming the Universal Champion is the first step to eradicating you. The second step, is up to my friend here. Is the reason me going after Vinnie Lane a result of fear? Indeed. Fear of losing what I love most. The X-Treme Wrestling Federation. If Mister Lane becomes champion, the XWF as we know it will become nothing but a memory. The face of Vinnie Lane will be the final stamp before the XWF closes it's doors and is forgotten forever. The Doctor, my friends, is not going to let that happen.

"Well, okay, if you're not afraid of him.... Why not just beat him? You beat him, he stays away from the title. Right?"

Of course, Trevor. As unstoppable as I've become, I may not always be around forever. It's easy to say that someday my services will be required else where and I'll have to step away. That does not mean that my love for this company will leave with me. Even in my absence, I will protect the XWF from the dirty and grime that Vinnie Lane brings to the ring with him EVERY SINGLE MONDAY.

"I--- I can't believe what you're asking me to do here."

What's not to believe? A simple task, my friend. You never used to be like this, I must say.

The Ex-Detective holds the sides of his head together. If he were to guess, he would guess the headache forming is apoplexy. Or he would hope.

The Doctor places his hand over the Ex-Detective's shoulder as he begins to sob a bit.

There, there, Trevor.

The Doctor whispers down to his patient.

You're doing a lot better with this than I had anticipated, to be honest. Do me a favor?

The Ex-Detective sniffles and looks up at the Doctor. If anyone is going through any type of fear right now, it's him. The Doctor meets the Ex-Detective's eyes with the one of his own and nods towards the mirror. He rubs his eyes and allows a moment for them to focus. It's the graveyard again. And there's the Ex-Detective, standing over the same grave puffing away at a cigarette. He slides out of the chair and begins to crawl across the floor to the mirror. He squints and can finally read what's written across the tombstone.

A look of horror stretches across the Ex-Detective's face as his own reflection turns around faces him. He removes the burning cigarette from his mouth and flicks it out of the mirror and hitting the Ex-Detective square between the eyes.

"What the hell!?"

The hot ash stings against his forehead and the bridge of his nose and he quickly begins to shuffle on his back side away from the mirror. His reflection begins to walk towards him away from the grave site. Somehow . . . The reflection steps through the mirror and into the office of the Doctor.

Well hello, Trevor.

The now physical reflection stands beside the Doctor above the Ex-Detective.

Doc... It's been a long time.

Indeed, it has. Are you ready for our next session?

You're fuckin' right.

The reflection reaches behind his back and pulls a pistol out from the back of his pants. He looks at the Doctor who responds with a nod and a grin. The Ex-Detective on the floor begins to panic and pulls himself away across the floor by his elbows.

"What the fuck is going on?!!"

The reflection walks across the room and picks the Ex-Detective up by the collar and throws him towards the mirror. He stumbles forward and falls into it. Instead of the mirror toppling over and the glass shattering everywhere, the Ex-Detective falls through it and lands on the other side.

The grave site is gone and it appears that he's standing in a similar room that he originally had woken up in. His prison. He reaches out and screams at the Doctor and his reflection and pounds on the glass which now seems impenetrable. The reflection returns a smile to the Doctor and lifts the pistol eye level and aims it at the mirror.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Shooting Star - My Reflection
Author	Message