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James Raven · (05-03-2019)

You always see the moments of glory, your hero standing tall with their hand held high as the fans roar and chant their name and the haters bite their tongue, swallow their pride, and applaud politely while living to hate another day. You never see the aftermath; that same hero laid up in a hospital bed or hotel room with nobody around to cheer them on or hold their hand through the darkness.

You’ve seen me win upwards of three hundred matches in my career, but you’ve never seen the fortnight that follows the worst of those bouts where I’m laid up in the shadows, skull splitting migraines decimating me every time my cell phone screen lights up with a text and brings the dimmest bit of illumination to my world. You’ve seen me win main events and beat legends, but the coverage stops there…

… not today. I don’t have that luxury anymore, no ability to save face with a favourable spin. Everyone has seen the photos from OCW’s Block Party; James Raven covered in his own blood, looking like a bad ‘Carrie’ cosplay. The People’s G.O.A.T. concussed and wheezing through bruised ribs and a swollen jaw. I got hit by a freight train on Monday night, but despite it all there’s one thing nobody can take away from me. I did the damn thing… I may not have walked out, but I was carried out the tournament champion and an overnight legend for OCW as an ambassador of the XWF.

Fuck with me.

RAVEN: … kill me.

It still hurts though.

BETSY: James?

Her voice is a dull whisper from across the dark room, drifting to my ears from the armchair in the corner where she’s been sitting watch over my recovery. It’s barely audible but still sends a fissure splitting down my skull. I feel a wave of nausea wash over me, and try to suppress it.

BETSY: Sorry, I didn’t know if you were awake… Centurion’s been calling for you.

RAVEN: Not now.

BETSY: I know, but he’s been calling a lot.

RAVEN: I’ll deal with it later.

BETSY: Right, sorry.

It’s not her fault, she’s just running interference and preventing anyone else from getting to me while I’m in this condition, it’s exactly what I asked her to do… I just can’t handle the political red tape and tip toeing around everyone's feelings right now. Centurion and Drew Archyle have been snapping at each other on social media and the tension every time I see either one of them has become suffocating. They both want answers and they both deserve them. They both want to know where they stand after years of standing loyally at my side.

I’m not trying to screw either of them over, I’ve just had a lot on my mind the past few weeks; the tournament, finalizing my deal to buy into the XWF ownership once more, trying to slow the arrival of Chronic Chris Page and a half dozen things that people don’t even know about yet… it’s been tough to sit down and really ask myself if I’m Prophecy or Apex deep down inside.

I can’t play it week by week forever, soon I’ll have to make a choice and pull the trigger.

For now all I can do is try and heal up in time to get back in the ring on Warfare. Drew and I have the tag team titles to defend, and as much as people would like to make fun of Rain and Snow for their ridiculous sexual proclivities and lack of in ring prowess, I’m not sure I can beat anyone in the state I’m in right now… especially if my partner doesn’t know whether or not he trusts my loyalties.

The nausea returns.

The headache intensifies.

This time it’s nothing to do with the injuries, and everything to do with the internal strife.

BETSY: Are you OK? Do you need something?

RAVEN: Sleep. Quiet.

BETSY: No problem…

She says nothing more. I try not to think.

I don’t succeed.

FADE
TO
BLACK

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Soft Deadline Tag Title Defense vs. Rain and Snow (w/ Drew Archyle)
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