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Dionysus · (12-05-2023)

Meeting after meeting after meeting.

It was like dealing with my crazy uncle and his fraud case all over again, only this time I am more directly involved than just a victim and witness.

A constant stream of emails, conference calls, meetings and investigations just to gather up as much evidence as necessary before the trial. My attorneys, Greg and Charles, attempted to negotiate a settlement with Scapelli's attorneys, but to no avail. It would be an all-or-nothing showdown in the courthouse, it seems. I left as much of it as I could to William to handle the finer points. Not that I didn't want to be involved, mind you; William is a fantastic business partner for me since he is more than capable of knowing my goals and vision in the event I was not around. And lately? I haven't been around.

Still, the amount of extra work I had to do in preparation for this trial had left me exhausted. I had become more irritable, what with the combination of working Warfare as well as The Strength Trials. The pressure to succeed was overwhelming me as new challenges arose to face me. I had snapped at William during one meeting and immediately regretted it, opting to return home to study the case in private.

I was reading through a new brief from the brothers, but in truth, I was trying to cope with my newfound responsibilities. For the first time in a while, there was more on my plate mentally than was feasible. Was I really going to be cut out for all of this? Perhaps my newfound confidence was just misplaced arrogance. What if I failed to deliver? Could I deal with the fallout?

Eventually, exhaustion took over, the documents spilling onto the floor as my body shut down, forcing me into a deep slumber.

It felt like hours had rushed by me in a manner of seconds. I stood alone at a podium in the middle of a courtroom. Looking around me where indistinguishable faces; black silhouettes with a crescent of white smiles lining their faces. A constant murmur arose from the gallery. I turned to face the judge, a blank slate of a face in judicial robes. "Dionysus Berget," the judge said in a low, brooding voice. "You stand accused of assault and breach of contract. How do you plead?"

I attempted to speak, but every time I tried, the gallery's murmurs rose in volume, drowning me out.

"Well?" The judge demanded.

I again made an attempt to speak, and again the voices grew to envelop me. The judge refused to call the court to order.

I saw what could be interpreted as a shaking of the head from the judge. "If you will not offer a plea, then I have no choice but to judge you...GUILTY."

GUILTY

GUILTY

My pleas for mercy were again drowned out under the chorus of the chant. Until a solid BANG from the gavel brought me into pure void.

Nothingness as far as the eye could see.

It was eerily silent once the echoes of guilt floated off into the distance.

I started walking forward, only slowing and stopping myself once I realized there was no point to any of this. All I could hear was my own breathing and each step I took. All I could see were simply my hands and feet.

And then...a pinch's worth of light.

...No, not light. An orb of some kind. It moved closer to me, and as it did so it expanded into a cloud. As if I were staring at a Dickensian ghost, there was an ethereal visage of a man whose suit was ragged and his arms and legs bound with shackles and chains. The face, however, was quite recognizable. "...Dr. Elbrook?"

The visage shrugged. "It is your subconscious, after all," Elbrook replied flatly.

I shook my head. "I don't understand-"

"That is your mistake," Elbrook interrupted, rattling his shackles and chains. "You do not understand...yet. In your delirium, you have lost confidence in yourself. What you saw there in the courtroom is a possible outcome, should you not steel yourself properly for the occasion."

"So if I don't clean up my act, I am going to lose this case. Is that what you're telling me?"

"I am telling you that if you enter into this battle without knowing what is at stake, you will lose not just this case, but you will lose yourself as well." The spirit of Elbrook, who I knew was still very much alive, hovered closer to me and pointed an ethereal finger at my forehead. "Your mind is awash at the moment and needs to be cleansed. Tonight, you will be reminded just how far you have come."

"By who, exactly?" I asked. "I take it you're not the one to guide me through this?"

"I am here as the self-defense of your mind," Elbrook explained. "I cannot guide you to your own conclusions, only offer the best course of treatment for your rehabilitation. There will be three visitors that will lead you through your memories, to show you the lessons you need to-"

"Alright, I've heard just about enough," I curtly interrupted. "We are not about to make this A Christmas Carol with my psyche. Are they really all going to show up one at a time and show me the most vulnerable parts of myself, to remind me of my worst memories and how they have shaped me? Because I live through that each and every day. Every twinge in my shoulder is a reminder of just how far I have come, and I don't need three spirits to show me that. So forgive me if this comes off as blunt, Marley, but I'm really not in the mood to deal with this right now."

"Do you not hear that emotion in your voice? It is that arrogant anger that we need to correct," Elbrook remarked pointedly.

He was right. I hadn't realized that, even in my fugue state, I had never raised my voice quite like that. I usually spoke with more determination. This felt more like...desperation? A clinging onto something? But why would I be feeling this anxiousness now? I had been doing better, had I not?

...What if it was a side effect of the Wishmonger? That by helping The Many Faces cope with their issues, it caused my own to remanifest?

It did me no good to speculate. I was here, it didn't seem that I would be waking soon. And besides, it would be interesting to see who would even show up. I sighed. "Fine. Since it doesn't seem like I'm going anywhere, I may as well play along. So...what, do you need me to get into a nightgown and cap?"

The spirit of Elbrook tilted his head to the side. "It...it is your own dream, Dionysus. You can wear whatever you wish. If that would make you more comfortable-"

Without even a moment's pause, I imagined myself in Scrooge's bedroom attire; a plain grey nightgown with a matching grey sleeping cap. Elbrook's sigh sounded more like a whisper as his form vanished into the ether. I couldn't help but chuckle; three spirits coming to visit. Christmas past, present, and futu-

"What the hell?"

"How did we end up here?"

"Dio's dream, remember?"

Those voices...I turned to face them. One was adorned in rags, frayed and torn but pristinely white. One was wearing a festive green jacket with red and brown stitching to make it appear as berries on a vine across the fabric. And one was wearing a black robe with a hood pulled over. They pulled their hood down, revealing the face...of Wide Dio. Daniel wore the rags, and Devin wore the green jacket.

My three Ghosts of Christmas were The Many Faces.

...This is going to be a long night.

Many have wondered when I lost the Television title why I did not immediately pursue Bulk Logan. By their accounts, I should have ripped him to shreds, or cost him his own reign. How quick people forget just what kind of man I am. Regardless of how I feel that loss went, it was still a miscalculation on my part and I paid for it...just as he made his own miscalculation and dropped the belt. That is the nature of this business. And if circumstances aligned with me having another go at the Television title, I would not turn it away. As it happened, fate had other plans in store.

Patience is truly a virtue.

Usurping BOB D for the Xtreme Championship was no simple feat. Doubly so considering I have attempted as much backstage with poor results. But it was not just an important victory for me, as I continue my ascent. It was also a reminder to myself of what I intended to do from day one in XWF.

Show the world why you have earned your keep. Leave no room for doubt.

Now, I certainly cannot rest on this laurel. For no matter the time or the place, I am constantly keeping my defenses up in preparation for a battle that is to come. But by now, you all know the kind of champion that I am. I fight tooth and nail. I give no quarter. And even in a sure defeat, I keep going until the bitter end.

And I will need every ounce of that determination if I plan on surpassing Centurion.

In very short order, Centurion has reestablished himself as a fixture within Anarchy, defeating Edward for their top title after a brief hiatus. Though what is brief to the man who has practically won it all? He sent a very clear message at Fire and Ice. It could be a day, a week, a month, a year; regardless how long it is that he is away, it will be as if he never left. Though it does surprise me that in the four months he has been kicking his feet up, he wonders why everything around him seemingly changed. It is still the same cast of characters as you have left it; simply rearranged to better suit their lot in this company.

But I suppose I could forgive a blip on the radar in the storied career of Centurion...if it weren't for the fact that he's considering four months of changes worth reverting to the days of yore.

Listen. You come off to me like a history buff. I myself have studied history. Earned a degree in it, as a matter of fact. And it is often times that those that wish to return to the order they envision for themselves as a good are often toppled by the inevitable march of progress. Oh certainly, there is a valiant effort to be fought to preserve what once was, but truthfully, was there much difference between the XWF of now and the XWF of when you started your time off? Is it perhaps that you see your enemies no longer surrounding you, giving you ample opportunity to reassert yourself at the top of the mountain? Or perhaps there is a deeper meaning to your current ascension.

Namely, that you're moving fast enough for the rest of the world to ignore your contradiction.

That you took a break. Because you could. After declaring "I'm no going anywhere."

That was the moment I decided, should we ever face each other in the ring, I would beat the responsibility back into you.

While you sat on your front porch, watching the colors change and sipping a nice sweet glass of ice tea, I put in the work to assert my dominance in Warfare. I fought wars and returned home with the spoils, all the while you were busy knitting a thick, cozy sweater for the colder months. When I need to take time off, it will be for an injury, or some actual legitimate reason. "I could so fuck you" doesn't cut it with me, Cent. But I will give you credit on this point; at least you simply came out with your indifference as opposed to making excuses for yourself.

Or did I misremember our brief time together in Level Up Wrestling?

Don't count on me holding that match-up against The Game Changers against you, though; after all, we were different people back then. Me, a bright-eyed bushy-tail up-and-comer looking up to and taking in lessons from every veteran who would give me the time of day. And you, the lateral call that would have spelled the end for The Game Changers had you not tapped out in the end. As I mentioned, I won't hold it against you, since I doubt you remember that day to begin with. What is one bad day to you anyway, right?

Think of it more as a sign that I am familiar enough with you to know that the work I must do has yet to be fulfilled. My team cleaned house at Fire and Ice. And it falls to my shoulders to ensure that the tie is broken. It could have been given to our newly minted Universal Champion, or the half of the Tag Team Champions I know you want to get your hands on. But unfortunately for you, I am the one that will be punching your dance card.

Maybe then when you decide to take another break "just because," the rest of the world will know what that reason is.

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