A Deal is a Deal

"No genius ever existed without a touch of madness."
- Aristotle

The rotten taste and warm heaviness in the air reminded the good doctor of his own office.  The four walls and decor he would conjure up with each session, however, was nothing like this grand place.  The black marble floor showed a crystal clear reflection, making it appear like you were walking on water.  Every step echoed over and over as if you were standing in a dome, but there were no walls or ceiling.  Just darkness as the office floated within the void.

Doc sat in a large, leather chair from the other side of a desk than he would be normally.  He was alone, summoned what seemed like days ago, but time did not tick here so it didn't matter.

He was patient.

A dark wind blew past him and swirled across the desk and over the chair behind it.  It whirled in place and gained momentum until it started taking the shape of a man.  Beginning as a shadowy silhouette, it began to gain color and features.

Soon enough, a man with a devilish grin stretching ear to ear sat before him.

"Well, well, well!"  He began.  "Fancy meeting you here again, old chap."

Hello, my friend, Doc said modestly, returning a D'Ville'ish grin.  Long time no see?

"Most certainly!  How long has it been?  Not long enough, right?  Hahahaw!"




Never is, Mister C.  Funny, I thought I'd be meeting with your brother.  Doc pauses.  Where is He?

Mister C snickered and bobbed his head around like a muppet.

"Oh, come now, you know how it is.  Busy, busy, all the time, and unfortunately, something has come up and He's unable to be here.  I am here in His stead."

Doc's smile melted away from his face.

Too busy for his own appointments?

"You understand.  Shall we get down to business?"

Mister C remained smiling and enthralled with the doctor.  He snapped his fingers and a white door appeared beside them and opened.  Another goblin, like the ones in the lobby, walked through pushing a cart holding an overhead projector.  The door then shut behind him and disappeared.

What is this, exactly?  Doc crossed a leg over the other and slid back in the chair.  I was summoned here assuming that I would be meeting with Him.

"No worries!  Please!  I swear I've been prepared to cover everything.  Trust me!"  He looked at the creature pushing the projector and pointed.  "Set it up right over there, Ernesto."

"Yes, Master."

The goblin pushed the projector into place and clicked it on.  Below, it opened a drawer and pulled out a folder filled with papers.  It took the first one from the top and placed it on the projector showing a line graph dating back from the last decade.  It was down, then went up a lot, then went down a little, then up a lot, and now it's back down again.

"You know that we appreciate everything you do."

You're assuming an awful lot.

"If you would, direct your attention to the display."  He looked at the goblin.  "Ernesto!  The laser pointer please."

The goblin patted around its tattered robe then looked around the cart for his Master's request.  He looked back to Mister C and held up his arms, unable to produce what he asked.

"Pickles…"

Mister C clapped one time and a door appeared exactly where the last one was.  Another goblin stepped through and stood in front of the desk.

"Jeffrey!  Act as my pointer!"

"Right away, Master."

It hobbled over and stood by the display.

"Very good.  Now, if you would direct your attention to the left at the start of the diagram.  You can see that numbers were running around average, slightly low."

The goblin pointed up to the left side of the display.  It was far too short and didn't even reach the display, which made Mister C scoff.

"Jeffrey!  I can't even tell what you're pointing at!  Ernesto!  Lower the display, please!"

"Yes, Master."

The goblin adjusted the lens down to the other goblin's level.  He lowered it too far at first, then when he tried to correct it went too high, then after three more tries got it right where he needed it.  Mister C was directing him the entire time.

"No, up a little.  Nope, down.  Almost got it.  There you go.  Nope.  For ff–  Thank you, Ernesto.  Moving along, our numbers began to increase a year later right around the time you reached out to us and we came to an agreement.  You recall our agreement."

Of course.

"Let's go over it anyway, shall we?  Ernesto?"

The goblin swapped out the paper with the graph for another one.  It was a contract.

"It was many years since you renewed.  I mean…  Many…  MANY years.  You were content just wasting away down here…"

Doc remained sunk in the chair, looking bored through the presentation.

"You were given access to the Universe again with the power that could crush an entire nation if used that way.  You chose to wear a disguise, which I absolutely love by the way, and use that innocent face of yours to suck the life straight out of people.  In return, we needed the numbers!  We considered this a ten year trial, because we know how you can be, and we're winding to the end of that journey here very soon, doctor.  Haha."

What's this about then?  An extension?

"An extension?!  BAHA!  Let me be straight with you, you've not been holding up to your side of the bargain as of late.  With the power you were given and the knowledge you possessed…  Let's not forget a certain skill in your craft…  The negative energy that you projected was unprecedented.  We see numbers like that during pandemics and world wars, which this last one saved your little behind because otherwise we would've likely had this meeting sooner.  You've fallen off, old man.  When you're not out there doing your job, there's no reason for you to be out there is there?"

What are you saying?

Doc recalled the encounter he had with Mister B on the train, who said he was sent to "test" him…

"Ernesto!"

The goblin quickly, yet clumsily, swapped the paper back out for the line graph again.

Wouldn't it have been simpler to just give me the papers?

"Absolutely, but we found this in one of the old closets downstairs and I wanted to see if it still worked.  They don't build them like that anymore, ya know?"

Doc remained with a blank stare as his lecture continued.

So, again, what is this?  A warning?  Are you cutting me now?  Should I clean out my desk?

"You're very funny, wizard," Mister C said without laughing.  "Consider this a warning, yes.  You have under a year to prove that you were the investment that you said you were."

Mister C leaned in on his desk and that wicked smile still stretched across his face.

"We all know you have it in you…  I heard about the train ride…  Hehehehe…  You, obviously, still have the will to fight and the fire burning inside that you've always had.  It's time to throw some gas on it."

Doc sat up a bit in the chair and actually soaked in a bit of what Mister C was saying.  After realizing that he wasn't brought in to just get thrown into the abyss, he comes to find out that maybe they're still rooting for him a bit.  How intriguing.

"Tell me…  Tell me, tell me…  That fire still burns…"

Doc looked up from the marble floor and right into the dark eyes of the creature before him, his master, and saw the fire burning in his own eyes reflecting back at him.  They both shared a smile and the doctor took a deep breath.

The fire…  Of course it's still there.  Did it die down?  Did I not tend to it properly at times?  Hm, I suppose not.  I didn't feed everyone else's need for me to thrive in this place and it seemed to hurt a lot of feelings.  Perhaps knowing what I was capable of and not acting on it displeased them because it did seem that I was surrounded by many who are gluttons for punishment.

"How will you rise again?  What's your outlook on your future now?"

I know it's everyone's go-to to just play on whoever's downfalls.  Mine apparently ALIAS and Mark Flynn.  Two fellows that anyone and everyone struggles to get by.  l call it a losing streak.  A streak is two, right?  I know what I have and haven't done in the last few years, I have beaten Charlie, Bobby Bourbon is right about that, and I always will.  Don't assume that's me reaching out and chasing an easy win, either.  Just like Bobby Bourbon, Charlie gimped over and humped my leg, insisting on a match each and every time.  If we didn't miss a year in the middle we could call it an XWFmas Tradition because he keeps on coming back.  He truly believes in that poor decayed pea-sized brain of his that there's actually a chance of him getting that elusive "W".  Charlie Nickles would, without a doubt, throw himself into the Lake of Fire if it meant a victory over me.

Mister C sat back and listened closely to Doc's glorious spiel.

I am and have always been a Bourbon Man, but apparently, not a very good one.  I've not been a Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, or a Copperhead.  I was never the comic relief henchman in the background that would subtly bounce out a one-liner to embellish something Bobby Bourbon would say and keep all parties engaged in his pointless, confusing, fan-fic dragon porn blabbering.  I'm not there like Miss Tote helping him shape his image because he doesn't know his shapes.  I was never the tag team partner that happened to have the brains to take something hated and considered a joke by all and turn it into the revolutionary team, the phenomenon known as Them No Good Bastards.

The way Bobby Bourbon comes off, it always seems like he ends up with the shit end of the stick.  A little bad luck and poor decision-making and you'll have that.  That was a mixture of whining and moaning that I've never heard and never thought would come from the Big Bad Most Bourbon'est Man, himself.  This was supposed to be our MAGNUM OPUS, but it's turning into some kind of pity party.  Bobby Bourbon is acting like the horse that's too old or stupid to work that you're leading out to pasture with a shotgun on your shoulder.  Am I putting him out of some kind of misery?

Is he in some kind of pain?

Tell me where it hurts.

Just kidding, you know I'm not that kind of doctor. 

Bobby Bourbon had me all lined up in the batter's box waiting for me to come up with a thousand excuses as to why I didn't grovel or throw a parade when he did something good.  That I never had his back.  That I never did anything for him.  Well?  Aren't you going to swing?  Does anyone know what I have done for Bobby Bourbon?  The same as I've done for everyone else, just especially him.  The same as the likes of Theo Pryce, Vinnie Lane, Gator have done…  You know, those few household names then, that still hold up to this day.  I stepped aside to make room in the front.  I allowed myself to stray from the mountain top.  I fell from the ladder and never bothered to climb back up again.  The Universe becomes boring when it runs out of tricks and games and you could simply crush it in one hand.  It was someone else's turn, because…  believe it or not! – I am not greedy.  And look what followed my reign as Universal Champion…  Vinnie Lane and Trax swapped it back and forth, then….  Scully, Gilly, Chaos, Reno, Caedus, Blingsteen, Raven, THEN Bobby Bourbon; only to get stripped of it two months later.  Are those the guys that were kicking him off the ladder for so long and keeping him from making a mark?  So while I was on vacation Bobby Bourbon was doing what?  Heh, certainly not thriving, but he was walking.  He was conquering.  He was proving.  Oh, mercy…

I never needed the extra ten pounds on my shoulder to keep my footing.  I've always been recognized for who I am not for what I have or do not have.  Only until recently, people like Bobby Bourbon haven't located a decent scab on me to prick at in hopes they could make it bleed.  There was always that delicious low hanging fruit, but everyone helps themselves to a couple of those…  These days, my few downfalls completely overshadow the fact that I can rule this fine federation.  Now, since everyone's obsessed with old Doc's resume, we only look at recent events because that's the juiciest content, right?  We hardly mention my two reigns as King of the XWF.  No one recalls my consecutive reigns as a Tag Team Champion lasting a long fifteen months.  Does anyone remember what became of all that?  I relinquished the titles; handing them over to the two survivors of my most glorious Shove-It Where the Sun Don't Shine Rumble.  I am not greedy and, once again, I stepped aside.  The division was a mess until we went full circle and I had my hands on them again with Baby Duke…  but we all know how that ended up.  You know what they say?  One bad apple can ruin the whole bunch and one spoiled brat basically gift wrapped my titles for Bobby Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles while I was winning March Madness and being crowned KING for a second time.

That's a scab that's scarred over.  If Corey Smith remains Universal Champion after I get my hands on this 24/7 Briefcase, then maybe I'll take the opportunity handed to me to crash his party, too, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.  Back to March Madness!  I am KING, BoB and Them No Good Bastards had JUST taken the title belts from Corytinuum; yet, as KING I held no grudge against them and I opened my arms to the unwanted, rebellious outcasts in the Brotherhood of Baddies.  They embraced my reign as I did them, took their knee before my throne, and kissed the Glorious Gauntlet.  When a side was to be chosen, they chose mine while my former team turned their backs, and I never forgot that.  Loyalty runs for miles and miles, am I right?  The following year when Bobby Bourbon was victorious and became my predecessor, where was the good doctor?  Was I there to celebrate and take a knee before the Grand Poo Poo?  Was I there to kiss the royal sandwich and hail his name?  No.  No, I was not.  I've ALWAYS been a Bourbon Man, so….  What did I do?  I stepped aside.  It's odd, but what Bobby Bourbon fails to realize is had I been there, he would not have been crowned KING.  I would have marched through that tournament as I do, found my mountain top, slayed my foes, and reigned victorious a third time.  I would've done him another favor and spared him the energy of picking himself up uh-gain and he could've stayed down on that knee continuing to worship the ground I triumph on.

Bobby Bourbon has claimed that there has never been one time that I have been better than him.  That's funny, pretty sure in 2015 when he couldn't touch me I was.  I remember when Unknown Soldier and I defeated Bobby Bourbon and Scully for the Tag Team Titles, there was that.  Also, Little Duke and I defended our Tag Team Titles against the Bastardly Duo and some cannon fodder, where the cannon fodder, of course, took most of the beating and the loss.  So, lucky ducky's there, I suppose, but… chalk it up, that's two for the good doctor.  Heh, not to sound crude, but….  I, honestly, can't remember a time that I haven't been better than Bobby Bourbon.  Since Mark Flynn has one on me, maybe it was when Bobby Bourbon beat him once out of the countless times that he didn't.

BAH.

I'm not here with a measuring stick.  The ladder, the blood and guts, and the fire and destruction at Relentless will tell this story.  We're going to battle through all the circles of Hell and when I'm through, I will bring you exactly what you want.  I was given a golden ticket because Bobby Bourbon has something to prove, which the only thing that this is going to do is prove the inevitable.  Alias and Mark Flynn beat him to the punch?  Considering he'll never get there, they never beat him to anything.  He's conquered many things, but in order to get the Platinum Trophy, cross something off that bucket list, and die a happy man, he's going to have to beat Doc D'Ville.  Which, unfortunately for him, has and will never happen.     

Mister C wiped a fake tear from his eye and stood up clapping his hands.  He waved for the two goblins to join in, which they did.

"Bravo!  BRAVO, good sir!  Now THAT is the fire that we've been looking for...  Oh, will my brother be pleased to hear this!"

I will not let Him down.  It's been a long time since I've even felt the passion to do this, but perhaps Bobby Bourbon's ignorance and willingness to throw it all away has...  inspired me.

With a devilish (D'Ville'ish) grin between them, the two met in the middle with a shake of hands that trembled the very foundation of the Universe.