I don’t want to be your King.

I’ve seen the kind of ‘Kings’ you people crown and I don’t want any part of it. I don’t want your cheap praise or your fake accolades. I don’t want your crown of thorns and I damn sure don’t want you to give me my “flowers”.

Not anymore.

Not after everything I’ve put myself through all for the sake of you people. I’ve shattered my body and my mind, I’ve broken my family and my bonds, all for you people. I spoon-fed you my misery, each and every week for years, but your stomachs were never full. You always demanded more: more bloodshed, more violence, more agony! And I always delivered. All in hopes that one day, you people would finally love me…love me enough to make me forget what I’ve done. 

But that road ends here. I’m done running from my past.

Tonight is when everything in the XWF finally changes.

I don’t want your shallow praises and your cheap accolades, I don’t want your crown of thorns….not anymore...but she does.

Can’t you see?

The era of Kings is over.

Now and forevermore, there will be one Queen to rule them all: the living and the dead alike. Her holy reign will wash away the blood on my hands. Her rebirth will be my only salvation.

Tonight, everything in the XWF finally changes. Because tonight, SHE returns. To take back the future that was stolen from her, to force you to confront a ghost in the flesh! To make you all forevermore beware…

The Ides of March.

The gravel rocks squealed as they were broken apart by the rolling weight of Charlie’s regrets. Their screeching only ceased when his car came to a stop in front of a beat-up tent pitched along the side of the highway. Charlie gripped the wheel as he stared down at his passenger seat, where the rotted corpse of his precious daughter lay wrapped in a burlap sack.

“This is going to work, Robyn…I promise this is going to work- because it has to work!”

He placed a tender, loving hand on his daughter before pulling a purple placard out from his glovebox. It was a glossy advertisement for “Laslan Talandre”, a so-called “Master of the Mystical Arts” who promised results that “guaranteed” a connection with lost loved ones. Charlie couldn’t remember where or when he’d picked it up, but he’d been clutching it for weeks, maybe even months! He thought that maybe, just maybe….this flyer could hold the key to everything.

“This Laslan guy’s legit, Robyn, I checked online and everything. He’s got nothing but 1-star reviews, which means everybody agrees he’s number 1 at this sort of thing.”

Charlie pats the burlap sack, as if trying to comfort his daughter’s decaying body- when suddenly he hears a silky-smooth voice purring out from his backseat.

“Number 1? Charlie, you used to be number 1…but now look at you.”

Charlie looks into his rearview mirror and sees Geppetto’s familiar face staring back at him. The Nickleman shivers at the sight of Geppetto’s haunting reflection. The familiar fiend, dressed in a suit and a hat, bares it’s shark-like teeth at The Nickleman in the mirror.

“Look how weak you’ve become. You’re driving across international borders with a corpse in your car, all for what? Because a ghost told you to? Charlie, my boy, you’re losing your mind…you’re letting her control you- manipulate you.”

“I’m doing what’s right! I’m doing what I should’ve done a long time ago!”

“You’re making a mistake, Charlie. You used to be number 1! You were a fox in the henhouse…and now, you’re just a slave to a sack of bones. I’ll tell you what you should do, Charlie, if you want to win the Ides of March and get back on top for good…”

Charlie turns back to face the creature directly, morbidly fascinated by the beast’s mysterious offer. Geppetto grinned as he whispered into The Nickleman’s ear softly, as if he were trying to keep the corpse from hearing his plot.

“Throw that garbage bag out the window, and let’s drive into the inner city! You’re -at- your best when you’re -on- your best, Charlie, you know it and I know it! Just a couple hits, Charlie, and your hits inside that ring will carry oh-so-much more weight.”

Geppetto’s eyes gleamed with sinister hope as he licked his chops. The fiend stared directly at The Nickleman, just waiting for Charlie to fall into his trap. Charlie looked between the fiend and the sack containing his daughter’s remains. Charlie shook his head softly, placing a hand on his daughter’s corpse before his gaze darted back towards Geppetto.

“I don’t need you or that poison anymore…all I need is her!”

With that, Charlie grabbed the burlap sack and stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Geppetto’s voice was cut off, silenced alongside the temptation to relapse. Holding his daughter’s remains close, Charlie marched away from the weight of his addiction and towards the ghost of his past. For The Nickleman, tonight wasn’t about a cheap high or fleeting glory. Tonight was about making right the wrongs, and atoning for the sins of the father.

You should’ve never said her name, Aurora.

But when you opened your big mouth, you pulled your own coffin out.

You should’ve kept your decency. You’re supposed to be our innocent little Aurora. You’re supposed to be that sweet up-and-comer who fell just short in the Ides of March. That was supposed to be your story, and you could have built your strength through defeat.

But then you took her name in vain, Aurora- and now, you will feel her pain. 

You don’t want me to bury you alive. You need to be careful what you wish for. Just think about it: why did I already dig up the dirt above my daughter’s grave? Just so I could drive to Pittsburgh, throw you in my trunk, and take you there to see it for yourself?

Well, you might be on to something…but you don’t deserve to rest alongside my daughter. That’s why I removed Robyn from her grave- because you don’t deserve to rest alongside her…but you can take her place.

You WILL take her place!

In the dustbin of history, where her career has lingered for years. In the void of the forgotten, where stars from the XWF’s past go to rot. You haven’t done enough to be remembered. When I end your run in the semi-finals, you’ll be forgotten before the curtains even close. You were one half of the tag team champions…and then what? Then you were nothing: fade to black!

Being ‘one half’ of a champion won’t get your name in the Hall of Legends, Aurora. Hell, it’s so forgettable they’ll probably skip that part of my career when I get inducted! It’ll be lost between my record-setting TV title runs, my War Games victory, my #1 TRIAD Draft pick status...you know, real accomplishments!

Accomplishments that should’ve been hers….that WILL be hers by the end of the night!

My daughter was cut down before her prime, but her career still eclipses yours in every way. In her short time on this earth my daughter became the first luchadora to EVER win the X-treme title! She was the youngest multi-time Anarchy Champion of all time! She was even the first person not named ‘Oz’ to win the Billion Dollar Championship!

To be clear, Aurora, you were ‘half’ a champion. But if you cut my daughter’s resume in ‘half’, she’s still a trail-blazing multi-time champion. You’ve had years to make up the difference, yet still, there’s nothing you can do to compare to her. You just don’t have ‘it’ in you: and that’s why you wouldn’t be ‘half’ the Queen that she will be! 

I already know what you’re going to say, Aurora, and maybe you’re right: maybe I am a horrible father. Maybe it is my fault that she’s gone, maybe it is my fault that she couldn’t win this tournament for herself. But the Ides of March isn’t about who’s ‘right’ and who’s ‘wrong’: it’s about making right the wrongs of the past!

Aurora, can’t you see? I’m the only one who can do it! I’m the one who made the bloody mess, and now, I’m the only one who can fix it! By winning the big one, by bringing her back, by forcing you ALL to confront the ghost in the flesh! By finally keeping my promise, by making you all beware the Ides of March.

You and Kieran are too focused on your personal vanity projects: you don’t care about righting the wrongs. All you care about is your selfish pursuit of glory and acclaim. You don’t care about fixing the past: and that’s why only my future holds the crown….her crown, forevermore. 

You’re not fit to be the Queen of March, Auroa- and by the time I’m done with you, all you’ll be is ‘one half’ of a semifinalist!  When these Ides of March finally end, She will be the Queen of the damned- and you, Aurora- you will just be damned.

And I will finally have my salvation.

Through your blood, through your suffering.

You never should’ve said her name, Aurora.

Charlie stood outside the beat-up tent with his daughter’s remains slung over his shoulder. Charlie approached the opening flap before hesitating. He considered turning back, but as he felt the weight of his daughter’s remains, he knew he didn’t have a choice.

Charlie crossed the threshold, just as he’s known to do, but the moment he stepped into the tent everything shifted. No longer caught in the remnants of an abandoned tent, Charlie now found himself inside an extravagant manor. The walls were adorned with mystifying tapestries that shifted under the light. Ancient relics and artifacts were on display all throughout the room, a collection of treasure from every continent.

Then, Charlie laid eyes on the greatest treasure of them all.

Her.

The young woman was waiting for Charlie, her soft skin barely illuminated by the dim light. Her plump lips curved into a smile once she locked eyes with The Nickleman.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You have?”

“Of course, and thank goodness you finally came. I was worried that you didn’t get the flyer!”

The Nickleman gripped his burlap sack tighter as he stared into the woman’s unassuming eyes.

“So you’re Laslan?”

The young woman chuckled as she took a step towards Charlie.

“Oh heavens no! Laslan is mi padre. I’m Camila.”

The Nickleman raised a curious brow as Camila began to circle him, moving with the grace of a tiger sneaking through the brush. Charlie tried to keep his wandering eye on this young woman as she moved around his periphery. There was something unnerving about her, something that The Nickleman just didn’t trust. As the woman circled Charlie, the potent scent of smoky incense and jasmine overwhelmed his senses. He clutched his daughter’s remains tighter.

“Where’s Laslan? The flyer said he could help me.”

Camila paused as she stood directly in front of The Nickleman, with only a foot of distance remaining between them. The stench of rotting flesh didn’t faze Camila; instead, she was solely focused on meeting the guarded gaze of The Nickleman.

“Mi padre is in his office right now, preparing for the ritual.”

“Ritual?”

“You want to bring her back, don’t you? Isn’t that why you came?”

“You’re not playing games with me, right now, are you? I’m not in the business of playing games- I’m in the business of hurting people.”

She smiled, delicate and knowing, like a predator who had already won.

“Like you hurt your daughter?”

Charlie's fists tightened but instead of lashing out, his arms just went limp. He dropped the burlap sack, causing the weight of his daughter's corpse to hit the ground a sickening thud. He sunk to his knees as the weight of her words echoed in his skull.

“It’s okay, Charlie. We can bring her back. We’re going to help you, remember? That’s why you came. Only a truly devoted padre would go to such lengths. I’ve always dreamed of becoming a wrestler, just like your daughter. I wish I had a padre like you, Charlie. A padre who would move heaven and earth to give me the Ides of March...you’re doing the right thing this time. I promise.”

The scent of smoky incense and heady jasmine swirled around The Nickleman as she pressed her hand against his back. Her soothing touch was almost too deliberate as she tried to mend the wound she inflicted.

“Do exactly what mi padre says and he will fix everything. You just have to believe in him.”

The Nickleman looked towards Camila, locking eyes with the young woman before slowly rising back to his feet. Once Charlie was standing tall, Camila called out loudly for her father.

“Padre! He’s ready for you!”

The door to Talandre’s office suddenly swung open, it’s doorhinges wailing in pain as they were forced into motion. Golden light spilled out from the inner sanctum as Laslan strode into the room, dressed in a black velvet coat. Laslan tipped his tailored tophat to The Nickleman as soon as the pair locked eyes.

“Charlie! Welcome to my fabulous mystical abode! Please, come. We have SO MUCH to discuss!”

Laslan gestured for Charlie to enter his sanctum. Charlie looked to Camila for confirmation, and her nod was all the encouragement he needed. The Nickleman picked up the sack of bones at his feet and stepped into Laslan’s sanctum. Camile and her father shared a knowing glance before Camile quickly shuffled away towards another room.

Then, Laslan slammed the door to his inner sanctum shut- because it was time for the ritual to commence.

Geppetto really rolled out the red carpet for his King, huh?

You couldn’t have asked for a more favorable bracket, Kieran! And we both know you asked for this bracket. You got to duck The Nickleman until the finals- and that wasn’t by accident. When your semi-finals match is against Matthias Syn, it’s plainly obvious that the fix is in.

How does it feel to have your legacy held together by Geppetto’s strings?

It’s clear they gave you the #1 seed, and still you almost fucked it up! You could barely scrape by Scoops…the very same Scoops that needed Geppetto’s protection to keep The Nickleman from taking his belt!

But putting Geppetto’s lackeys aside, your second-round match wasn’t any tougher. Sarah Wolf? I took that broad’s belt AND her motivation both in 3 seconds flat. The Wolf you faced was nothing but the walking hide of a beast I already fileted. Pinning Sarah Wolf and Scoops McGee ain’t nothing new to me, Kieran: if anything, you were late to the party!

But truthfully, I’m surprised you bothered to show up at all. Ever since my return, I’ve been an ever-present force in the XWF. Whether it’s in backstage hallways or main event matches, I’ve been there! On my first Premium Event back, my team won War Games. On my second Premium Event back, I won the TV Championship and brought Bacchus’ revolution to a screeching halt. And in between? Oh, I didn’t do anything much….except win the X-treme Championship twice!

And what have you done lately, Kieran?

You’re the ‘King’ of the XWF the same way Saddam Hussein was the ‘President’ of Iraq. I mean sure, you might have the title: but you’ve spent the past year hiding away in some forgotten crevice. You’ve been avoiding the Warfare raging on your lands, because you know we’re gunning for your scalp. And now that you’ve finally popped out of your hiding hole, I’m going to usher in the new era by breaking your fucking neck.

I’ve been sharpening my skills and fighting the best of the best all year long. I’m ready for this showdown, Kieran, but are you? You haven’t fought a match like this in months. My skin has been steeled against the bite of the barbed wire, but has yours? Is your blood yearning to be spilled, just the same as mine is?

I doubt it.

You’ve been the King in hiding, not the King presiding. Which begs the question…how much does this tournament even mean to you? Because to me, it means everything….but to you? It seems to mean nothing. What are you even going to do with the crown, besides hide? You had your chance to be King and you squandered it: whether it was laziness or cowardice, the world may never know- but we all know that you’ll never get a second chance. 

Not while I’m still breathing.

I won’t let you walk away from this with my TV Championship- you’ll just squander it when you fade back into obscurity. And I damn sure won’t let you walk away from this with my daughter’s dream! This little tournament might not mean much to you, Kieran….but to her?

It means everything.

You’re a shadow of the man you used to be- just like me. But the difference between us? I’m not here to reclaim my lost glory. I’m here to fix my biggest mistake. And when I look at you, I don’t see a King. I see just another obstacle standing in my way. The era of Kings is over, the time of our Queen is upon us, and I’ll drag you kicking and screaming back to the past to prove it!

Do you know the biggest difference between this year’s tournament and last year’s tournament, Kieran? Last year, I wasn’t here. But this year? Daddy’s back- and he’s not leaving until his little girl gets her crown.

The era of Kings is over and it’s never coming back.

Now, the Queen will be your only salvation.

Laslan Talandre sits with both his feet up at his desk, his hand holding Robyn’s disembodied head up in the air for close inspection as he ponders Charlie’s predicament carefully. Between the pair sits the rotted body of Robyn Gonzalez, the long-lost daughter of The Nickleman. Charlie sits across from Laslan, clearly torn up by the sight of his daughter’s headless body.

“Laslan, when are we going to bring her back?! You’ve been picking and prodding her body for hours, man! I thought you said you could bring her back!”

Laslan looks back towards Charlie as he places Robyn’s rotted head atop the table, next to her maggot-infested carcass.

“The mystical arts are incredibly complex and nuanced, Charlie. I’ve just been examining the situation from every angle, to make sure that I make no mistakes in the resurrection!”

Charlie leans forward and grips the table, clearly on edge.

“Mistakes? What kind of mistakes could you make?! I thought you said you could bring her back!”

“Woah now, Nelly- calm down. It’s of the utmost importance that we remain calm and civil at all times, because it’s important for the spirits. The spirits are very finicky, you know? And that’s why I’ve been very finicky, because, you know, it’s ver-”

As Laslan rambles on senselessly to buy more time, the lights in the sanctum suddenly flicker on and off for a few brief moments. A knowing smile grips Laslan’s lips as he leans back in his chair.

“Well, it appears the spirits are ready to begin.”

“Really?! It’s finally time?! We can actually bring her back?!”

The Nickleman appears anxious and giddy, almost childlike in his willingness to believe. Laslan grins, knowing that he has Charlie exactly where he wants him.

“Why of course it’s time! But I have to remind you….these mystical arts can be incredibly costly.”

The Nickleman arches his eyebrow as Laslan leans forward.

“Just tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen. I’d do anything to bring my babygirl back! You need me to slaughter an old folks home? Just give me the address. Need a few orphans? Laslan, there is no line I won’t cross to bring her back!”

“Well hold on now, big fella! It’s nothing like that….the mystical arts run on the same dark and twisted market that all art runs on…”

The Nickleman’s face contorts into an expression of bewilderment and confusion.

“I’m talking about MONEY, good sir! The spirits, like I said, very finicky! Very pricey! I don’t make a single dollar off of any of this, I assure you!”

“How much do you need?”

“That’s a great question, Charlie! Let me consult the spirits!”

Laslan takes a deep breath, then he closes his eyes and grabs a hold of the table. After a few seconds of silence, Laslan begins frantically shaking the table while bouncing up and down in his seat. He chants a few phrases of gibberish before suddenly pausing, releasing the table and opening his eyes as wide as possible.

“The spirits have spoken…”

“And what did they say?!”

“You must give me your future career earnings, forevermore!”

The Nickleman paused, hesitating for a moment as Talandre suddenly handed him a contract signing over all future royalties. A single bead of sweat rolled down Laslan’s forehead as he tried to keep his performance up. After a few seconds of deliberation, The Nickleman finally relented: because for him, this delusion was priceless. Charlie signed the document, and the deal was sealed.

“Fine…just make it happen! Bring her back!”

“As you wish, my good sir.”

Laslan smirked before washing the grin off his face and beginning the ritual. The conman’s fingers began tracing ancient symbols in the air before settling them upon the cold, headless body laid bare upon the table. His soft chants echoed through the sanctum as he reached beneath the table and pulled out a cannister of gasoline. Laslan began pouring the gasoline all over Robyn’s body as Charlie suddenly jumped out of his chair.

“Wait, what are you doing?!”

“Magic!”

Laslan lit a match, and threw it atop the Latina Submission Machina’s lifeless body. The flames sprang to life in an instant, dancing upon the corpse as they licked Robyn’s rotted flesh.  Charlie’s face froze in horror as the heat began to rise, filling the entire room with a dark and sinister smoke. Charlie looks back to Talandre with rage in his eyes, but before he can lash out, the door suddenly creaks open, breaking the tension. Charlie glances towards the doorway, where he sees a sight he could never have conceived.

It was her.

Her body was twisted and scarred, but Charlie would recognize his long-lost daughter anywhere: or at least, he thought he would. Laslan bore a grin that stretched from ear-to-ear as the woman walked slowly and methodically towards The Nickleman. With each and every step she took, his belief in her grew. When she finally neared The Nickleman, the scent of smoky incense and heady jasmine overwhelmed his senses.

“I told you I’d bring her back, Charlie!”

Laslan grabbed The Nickleman’s shoulders, forcing him to gaze upon the ghost in the flesh. Tears swelled in Charlie’s eyes as the flames rose, casting an eerie glow across the sanctum.

“She’s beautiful…”

The Nickleman stood in awe of the woman before him, even as his daughter’s body was slowly burning to ash in the flames. Each crackle of the fire sounded like a whisper of something lost, something he could never have again: something that was somehow standing  in front of him. To Charlie, the flames sounded like the return of a ghost in the flesh.

As the fire consumed his daughter's body, another fire ignited deep within Charlie's soul. He resolved to win the Ides of March, not for himself, but for her: for the woman in front of him. The world could burn for all he cared, because now that she was back, there was nothing that would stop him from giving her the prize she deserved: even if it meant everything else turned to ash.