1A: Thank You

20 January 2021 Smith tries to help Alias up, but Alias shrugs him off. He opens his eyes, and stares down at his hand once more. With a deep inhale, Alias lifts his hand and rises to his feet. Corey rises next to him, clearly concerned. But Alias doesn’t notice. Barely standing, he scans the crowd. They’re on their feet for him. A standing ovation. Alias smiles.

“Thank you.”

I fall into a dark corner of a damp vessel. My transport. My world. With no knowledge of the hows or whys as to the camera being present, I lean into the opportunity to turn the inner monologue off and be one with the world around me, if just for a moment.

Off.

“I mean it.

Thank you.

My right hand is my left.

Thank you, Corey.

Thank you for respecting my wishes to fight for myself; to allow me to exert control over my own future. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s all I’ve ever asked for people to give me. It’s been too much for others though. They resort to surface-level jabs and wilfully avoid peeling back the outer layer to see reality. Thanks for giving me the chance to write my own destiny. And then, thank you for checking on me in the aftermath. I appreciate you.

And while I’m at it - thank you, Jenny.

Yeah, I said it.

Thank you.

With our powers combined, we did it. Though your courage wavered, you fought on. It was only in the aftermath that it wavered again. And then... I paid the price.”

20 January 2021 Marf reaches through from the outside and holds it in front of Lycana’s face like a shield. Alias takes a couple of steps backwards while Myst speeds out of the ring, wanting nothing to do with the fire.

“You left me to my fate. But it was the fate I chose. And you… you gave me the opportunity to choose it. You stepped up before you backed off. I saw it. The whole world saw it. We saw what Jenny fuckin’ Myst could be. One day.

I can be angry at you - and I am - but I’m also appreciative. I volunteered you for tribute, and you could have viewed it as a sacrifice. But you didn’t. You fought when you didn’t have to. You believed.

Like I did.

Honestly, I understand your survival instinct kicking in. Mine did too. Fight or flight - I guess we’re opposites there. But like you, I survived. Even if I had to do it the hard way. I hope you saw that. I hope you saw what became of me. And I hope it gives you something to think about for the future.

We’re not okay.

But we can be.”

20 January 2021 Satisfied, Marf joins Lycana again and together they drag Alias over to the table. The lay him across the broken fragments and start wrapping the chain around him. After several wraps of the chain, Alias finds himself chained to a fresh table, but with a layer of wooden shards in-between.

“Thank you, Lycana. Thank you Marf

Thanks for the shackles that bound me; a reminder of the chains of oppression. I was bound long before you and I ever had the chance to meet. It was a timely reminder about why I do what I do. Why I fight. Why I dissent.

To free the shackles; break the chains.

My right hand is my left.

You’ve done more than just reminded me about myself though. You’ve put yourself on display too. You’ve shown me your underbelly - the soft, unprotected part.

I beat you.

It’s a small victory in the grand scheme of things. I know that. The war continues and you made that much perfectly clear. But I, along with Jenny, were at the least a speed bump along your journey last night. A journey that ended in the wanton devastation of the witches and warlocks that tried to trick me earlier that night. Kudos, friends. Keep that part up. But on my end? With that exposed underside of yours in my sights, all I need to do is make the bump a little larger, and it’ll knock you all off course. Including your new friend. I can’t wait to play with you, Andrew.

The good news is, that bump is growing as we speak. You can feel it can’t you? My presence; my spectre.

It’s growing.”

Bump.

20 January 2021 Smith tries to help Alias up, but Alias shrugs him off. He opens his eyes, and stares down at his hand once more. With a deep inhale, Alias lifts his hand and rises to his feet. Corey rises next to him, clearly concerned. But Alias doesn’t notice. Barely standing, he scans the crowd. They’re on their feet for him. A standing ovation. Alias smiles.

“They feel it.

Thank you, Milan.

Thank you for your appreciation. I’m not really the kind of guy that people cheer. But you did… I don’t know why - I don’t deserve it - but you did.

For that, I thank you.

“I’m not a hero. I don’t have the right temperament for that. But even so… it’s nice to be… appreciated. Even if that thought never crossed my mind before. Like I said to Jenny, I’ve just been fighting for my right to survive.

I guess there’s something relatable in that. Especially in this day and age.

And what choice do I have but to keep surviving?”

23 December 2020 Ash steps forward and without hesitation, presses the glowing brand against Alias’ palm. Smoke and the stench of scorching flesh fill the air along with a sizzling sound. Alias screams in pain, his first instinct to jerk away but Lycana and Baphomet hold him steady as Ash completes her work. She pulls the iron away, revealing the blistered brand on his palm. The Left Hand abruptly let him go, and step back, all raising their left hands. They take their leave, leaving Alias in the ring, cradling his hand, staring at the brand.

“I’ll always bear the scars. I’ll fight, I’ll get a leg up, and then… I’ll fall. I’ll always fall. By your standards. The standards of the Thaddeus Dukes of the world. But I’ll keep fighting. And I’ll keep being honest with myself. Or trying to, anyway.

In that spirit, let’s talk facts. One win does nothing. The Left Hand hasn’t fallen apart - they’ve grown. Baphomet or no Baphomet. And if I’m growing too, then sooner or later there isn’t going to be enough space for both of us.

I say sooner.

I say fight.

From now until their decimation, I’ll throw my body against The Left Hand. If I don’t, I won’t survive.

Snow Job was supposed to be the start of that. I was supposed to get The Baphomet. I could have ended it all.

Instead?

Reggie Estrada.

Is this a reward? Or a trick? Am I supposed to get lulled into a false sense of security in thinking that for once - just once - I don’t have to look over my shoulder for The Left Hand?

Unless…

No, that’s stupid. Even they wouldn’t touch you.

Although they did welcome Ash Quinn into the mix…

Nah! I’m pretty sure you’re on the up and up. You’re just a guy. And this is just a match. Not a war, a fucking match. But… it is X-Treme Rules. Again. Because apparently I’m not allowed to have regular matches.

Hmm… with the lack of rules, I think I’m still going to need to keep an eye on my own back. And, that’s probably the best situation you could find yourself in Reggie. I’ll openly admit I’m a little… distracted. I don’t want that to sound like an excuse. It’s just the reality of the situation. I’ve been given you instead of that prison-bitch Baph’, but all his lackeys are still out there. And as long as I am too, everything that they’re trying to achieve hangs on a knife’s edge. But Reg, for you, I’m going to do my best to focus. Whatever that looks like.

It’s out of respect that I want to focus on you, my man. I actually appreciate your own survival instinct. I want you to know that. For nigh-two months you’ve had that X-Treme Championship, and for nigh-two months you’ve survived. How many people have taken their shot? 10? 20? 30? None of them have been able to take that championship from you, myself included. Because you’re a survivor. The difference between you and I, though? You survive without fighting. I survive no matter what.

But let’s back up a bit. Yes I’ve rolled you up in a variety of ways, but that’s just been business. I kind of feel like I still need to properly introduce myself to you, Reggie. I mean… I tried. You remember High Stakes, right?”

29 November 2020 Page mule kicks Doc in the groin before seizing the opportunity to come up behind Reggie Estrada and dump the Xtreme Champion over the top rope and out to the floor!

“Of course you do. To be fair, it’s a little disingenuous of me to point out your elimination and not mine, but I’m trying to make a point here. That match was an opportunity for me to change the world. Were I able to win that crapshoot - Thad Duke’s words - I could have set the standard for how the XWF and its universe responds to people with different worldviews.

Just think, this whole Left Hand nonsense… it could have been completely different, had that crapshoot gone another way. But now, I’m the guy getting beaten down every week. And people like Thaddeus Duke, they’re nowhere to be fucking seen.

Kind of like Reggie Estrada being booked on a television wrestling show - I kid!

No I don’t.

You were there though, at High Stakes, Reg. That was probably the last time you actually stepped foot in a ring, right? After your only title defence to date, you were then out there in that battle royal alongside me while I was fighting to make this world a better place for the oddballs and weirdos. But just what in the hell was your plan? Do the bare minimum and collect a paycheck?

More broadly, just what in the hell is your plan for that championship?”

(01-14-2021, 01:27 PM)Reggie Estrada Said: Yes, there is rules about defending this belt and I know I need to "buck up"... but you need to be able to find your own person to speak recklessness with, and not get yourself a target, i anit the one for that, Smith. I don't want to go to prison for manslaughter against a kid like yourself.

“Huh?

Like… actually…

Huh?

I know you said a bunch of words, but I straight up have no fucking clue what you said. Every single time you open your mouth you just leave me completely baffled.”

(01-14-2021, 11:56 AM)Reggie Estrada Said: "If you have no patience and want a shot at this belt... go wait in line, down in the chow line for your crumbs. You need to find a better belt to chase after, go after Thad or grab your homie and take out Thad and Doc for the tag straps, that'd be more prestigious to your record than this belt."

“I repeat: huh?

I don’t need to stick up for him, he’s perfectly capable of getting it up sticking up for himself, but you know Corey is one of the tag champs too, right? And you know that there was already a number one contender announced for the Universal Championship, in CCP, right? And you know what perks come from being the X-Treme Champion, right?

Do you know that? Do you know what you’ve got in that championship?

Shit…

I don’t actually think you do. Based on how you approached High Stakes, it’s pretty clear you don’t really pay attention to the world around you.

Maybe you just don’t have the drive for this.”

(01-14-2021, 03:34 PM)Reggie Estrada Said: Sure Corey Sure...I can't find ANY arenas to defend it in, chico... oh well, that means i'm no good as a champion in your eyes, then. I can't please anyone, even to the likes of you... sadly, i don't have the same drive as the undead biker guy named Main who would make you proud to see him uphold the division to a highest standard.

“Oof.

This is… uncomfortable.

Reg... you’ve kind of played your hand there. You don’t know what that X-Treme Championship means in the grand scheme of things. On my end, it’s not that I care for the glory. I certainty don’t care about being the ‘most hardcore’. That championship though… it means opportunity. Opportunity that you’re wasting. If I want a chance to affect things on a larger scale - to set things right - I need to find a path. And that championship, Reggie, that’s my ticket.

Somehow, I’ve lucked out to be in this position. But this opportunity has still been dangled in front of me, and I’m going to take it.

I’m going to take the X-Treme Championship.

Because I need it.

So thank you, Reggie.

Thank you for giving me my future back.

My right hand is my left.”

---

1B: Bump

All sorts of creatures live in the woods.

I remember Lycana telling Corey and Reginald about them many moons ago now. And suns too. Days. Weeks. Feels like years. So much has changed since then. And so much hasn’t.

He knew about the creatures too. The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur. He told me all about them. He knew more of them than Lycana did. She only knew about the dark ones - the ones that hide and hunt and go bump in the night. But he knew about them all. All of the dwellers of Lycana’s limited kingdom, and so many others! There were the pretty ones and the ugly ones; the furry ones and the slimy ones; the loud ones and the quiet ones; all and all and all.

The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur even knew about the secret ones.

Bump.

He told me about them as he drove us down a bumpy dirt road in a vintage Ford F-100. At 7-feet tall, the beast would have trouble fitting in most vehicles comfortably. But with those horns? On a day like today where he seemed particularly… horny…? To help him fit, he ripped the damn roof off it with his bare hands. It was a sight to behold!

Bump.

Looking over the side of the truck's shredded frame, I saw long strips of sky blue paint dangling to the sides of the cabin. The paint streamers clung desperately to the truck as it coughed its way down the path. Flakes fell off with each bump, like a trail of breadcrumbs leading back from whence we came.

Bump.

There they go again.

We chug past an endless wall of half-frozen green. In the frost and mist, the woods had grown dense and ominous. I squint through whatever openings I could find between the trees, trying to find some of the secret ones. The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur said that this was the perfect conditions for them. Especially The Lying Lionheart who hides in plain sight.

Bump.

"I think I see one!" I exclaim.

Bump.

And it was gone. I think the noise spooked it. Lionhearts tend to stay away from anyone who might expose them.

The truck begins to slow, and I turn to look at my guide. He grunts, and steam discharges from his nostrils into the multiverse. He turned slightly, and the truck rumbled onto the verge and up a small mound, coming to rest on a thicket of weeds overlooking the chilly waters of Green Bay. Fuck knows how I got here so fast. I’m not exactly an airplane guy, and I sure as shit don’t have a phone box time machine. Even so, here I am. From this vantage point, I could see right across the Door Peninsula and to Lake Michigan proper.

I squint once more, bringing my gloved right hand to my temple and applying some light pressure. Sometimes that helped my eyes focus over greater distances. My hand stings as the glove pulls on blistered skin. I don't mind though. By now, I had mostly gotten used to the pain. Mostly.

With greater acuity, I scan the waters of the lake for another of the secret ones. I had been told that The Chronically Underwhelming was known to frequent these waters this time of year. If I looked hard enough though, I thought I might see it flailing its arms as it tried to keep afloat, only to be eventually swept away by the current and crushed under the pressure of expectations. No such luck this time.

"Is this it?" I ask, turning back towards my steward. The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur growls a response that I took for yes. Eagerly, I unbuckle my seatbelt, jump to my feet upon the seat, and spring over the side of the truck, taking full advantage of the open air above me. The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur opens the still functioning door and climbs out that way. He’s not a monster, after all. I stretch my legs out, shaking them about from atop the mound and inhaling the cool air. Roof or no roof, the air somehow seemed fresher outside the confines of a rolling steel structure.

“So… what now?” I follow up. I notice The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur carrying a black napsack, kind of like the one I kept the blowtorch in on Warfare.

Bump.

He drops it onto the hood of the car and it hits with an unnatural thud, before getting straight to business. He rustles through the bag in the search of a promise. Things inside clinked and clanked in mysterious ways. Eventually, with another steaming huff, he pulls out a large parchment and begins to unravel it. I step beside him and gently push a gargantuan, fur-coated bicep out of the way. It was a map of the world! On it, five red Xs were marked, with a dashed black line running one-at-a-time through each of them. The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur taps on the first X and grunts again.

Tombstone, Arizona.

I had been told that I met another secret one there: The Tapestry Doctor. He would weave his wicked works while he kept hidden away. Over time, he became oblivious to how irrelevant his art form was becoming. He left a mark on me, unwittingly or not. And now? Now I know his identity. Now I make a promise to find him again. Now that I know about the secret ones.

The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur’s snort reminds me of what started that night. I raised my right hand and the big bad creature in the open tumbled out of the ring.

Bump.

The wheels were in motion from then.

With his finger and nostrils, The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur continues to tell me the story of the secret ones I had met. And the ones I hadn’t. He drags his finger along the dashed line. The trip seemed to take forever. It finally stopped.

Venice, Italy.

It was on the journey there that The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur first showed me this map and pointed me on the cosmic pathway. He had told me it needed to go through Venice; that whatever was to happen there needed to happen. As I felt my hand seer, I prayed to him that he was right.

He revealed the secret one that I met there: The Discarded Ashes. She revelled in her relevance that night. As The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur dragged his finger across the map again, I thought of how much I will revel in her ruin.

Rome, Italy.

Events on the path to Rome had apparently again led me to a secret one: The Anarchist of Self. He told me how I touched this one already, and took a piece of it away. He was pleased. I didn’t take all of it though. For that, he reminded me that I must find it again. I must.

In Rome itself, all I found were the creatures who live out in the open in a dairy-based honesty. Not the creatures of the night but the creatures of the day. A joyful, unfamiliar normalcy. It was a moment out of time, but marked on a map for a reason. Or so I thought. A frustrated snarl emanates from The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur’s snout. Something had bothered him in Rome.

Milan, Italy.

It had seemed like a sign of things to come. Unity and separation. Victory and defeat. The dichotomy of life. Yes I suffered, yes I was hurt, but it was worth it. I trusted his vision; I trusted his path. But even so… who were the secret ones in Milan?

I could see his full eyes chiding me. They told me to hold true. Only he knew about the ones watching me. Only he knew about the hushed voice in the back of the library; the flashing lens from the black car outside the gelateria.

He knew the secret ones.

He drags his finger across the ocean one last time.

Green Bay, Wisconsin.

Just where he said the winding path would lead.

He raises his finger, and points into the woods. That’s where the secret the universe wanted to tell me was. The cosmic treasure.

“Are you sure?” I ask, stupidly. He didn’t even bother responding. We both knew. I didn’t wait for it. Without thinking, I float to the treeline and immerse myself in the forest. The woods rushed behind me as the world beyond whipped away.

“I’ll find you”, I say aloud.

The forest heard.

The creatures heard.

Bump.

---

1C: Through the Woods

The light looks dark when in the deep
It confuses all the creatures
Their cunning whispers plan their creep
Obscuring all their features

The dark grows bold in dimming sun
The light rejects its bluster
Thou can’t ignore what has begun
No shine retains its lustre

The creatures circle, closing in
I march forward through the trees
In the face on an imposing wind
I rebel against the breeze

On pale steeds, the dark ones sit
They raise their paws like hands
The blind they herd towards the pit
“Comply with all commands”

The light ones are rare and hard to spot
Divided in the struggle
Those who unite are tied in knots
Competing needs they juggle

They poke, they prod, they light the flames
Each of them doth whip me
Still I march, immune to names
Leaping vines that seek to trip me

Behind each tree, I hear their noise
They bay with red hot vigour
Each creature’s threat is faced with poise
My truth resists with rigour

As I survive the coming purge
Their charge will grow unravelled
Into a clearing I’ll emerge
Impossibly, I’ve travelled

---

1D: Cosmic Pathways

I step triumphantly from the forest into a perfectly concentric clearing.

I survived.

Always.

The centre of the clearing glows in white.

Weeks old smoke billows from a rock in the middle of a crater.


I step closer to it.

And closer.

And closer.



























My hand sears and I collapse to my knees.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force the image from my mind.



























“Raise the left hand,” a voice calls to me, seemingly from the woods.

“NO!” I bellow back.

In a rage, I open my eyes and jam my stinging right hand into the crater. Clasping the treasure, I pull it from its resting place.

I found it! It’s mine! My fucking precious!








The world grows quiet.







I lift the glowing rock into my line of sight.

In it, I saw.

Another secret one.

The Nameless One.



















































She saw it too.

“I knew I would find you here.”



...

---

1E: 2A

Next...