1A: Out To Sea

May 01, 2021 - or maybe just into the next day

Alias, battered and bloody, pops off of Doc and immediately hugs Corey. But Corey’s eyes remain on Doc, and he retains a mixed expression. Just behind the house, a fireworks display begins! Holy! Fucking! Shit! Dolly Waters comes running in holding the 24/7 briefcase. She hands it to Alias, who takes it, but finds he’s too weak to stand, slumping to the ground but clutching it lovingly. The crowd rushes the ring and lifts Alias into the air. XWF MayDay fades to black as Alias is seen being hoisted by the mass of fans lifting his 24/7 Case into the air.

Forward I am carried.




Over the surging sea.

Its tidal peaks rise and fall, rise and fall. Waves of humanity sweep me out from shore and into a vast, deep infinity.

The hands, they reach up, gasping from below the surface. Not for survival, but in elation. A million strong (allegedly) individual molecules in a human ocean, uniting to provide life.

To me.

I grasp at my prizes, clinging tight so they can’t wash away.

My shoreline - friends and foe on a square canvas of a beach - fades away. Adrift, I draw a deep breath, my treasures secured, and lean my head back, sinking in and allowing my body to rock back and forth with the gentle ebb and flow as I am carried away.

By them.

But this isn't their story.

It's mine.

Above me, the twinkling promises of tomorrow continue to erupt in a technicolour display of pomp and circumstance. I muse to myself…

‘Tis for I the stars explode.

The words carry with them a sort of foreboding that simultaneously fills my heart with a warm glow and sends a shiver up my spine. Upon the words rests a mountain of expectation. Not of the others - those who bear my weight along their waves. But rather, expectations built by my own trials; my own scars.

Again, the dreams above explode and trickle down around tomorrow’s cold rock as it cuts a crescent in the dark velvet overhead. Time is meaningless there. It is kissed by light eight minutes after Sol discharges, but we never register it until over a second later, and there are sections upon which no light is ever seen. I’ll see it though; I’ll see it when the dreams become the waking.

Today we wake.
Tomorrow…

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1B: And Lo’, A New Battle

The waves crash at the edge of the world, and I, their tidal surfer, splatter onto the dusty, well-trampled ground.

“Oof…” the wind knocks out of me. But at least…

Safe and secure I hug tight to my prized keys as I find my footing on shaky, worn out legs. A tree - a large dread oak upon a poor excuse for a grassy knoll - supports my beaten frame. I survey the scene - the results of my actions. The throbbing sea of mortality before me celebrates their perceived victory.

Ding dong! The king is dead!

Pride filters through my pain. It is clear. My sacrifice offered a glimmer of hope to the masses. ‘The reign of terror will be over soon’, they convince themselves. But those are not my words. And thus begins the next fight. A million (allegedly) frenzied revellers and rebels gathered on the grounds of a mansion dedicated to the downtrodden vagrants of the world. Oh what a fitting ‘hero’ I am: the face of revolution. For when the king falls, surely his knights will follow.


I allowed myself to be carried away. I promised all sorts of things. But now, as I step into this new battle and push against the will of the people, the changing nature of my role is reflected back at me in their faces.

In the toothless grin of a frothing, rabid mouth, I see the reflection of a self-appointed representative of the freaks and weirdoes that first pointed an accusing finger in the direction of Thaddeus Duke. I lock in on the mouth’s deadened, washed-out, blue eyes.


I push through.

A mangled right hand dries wet, blue eyes. I can see the pain in them. They belong to a victim, searching for healing. Memories flash to mind, almost in rhythm with the girating of the crowd; memories of blood and fire, switchblades and blowtorches. To this damaged body, I can relate.


I push on.

Soft blue embraces him, tinged with the drunkenness of love. Up to their eyeballs in it, even. They wish for something out of reach. A fool’s errand, I know, but in turn, my heart replies to the unloved soul with the murmur of an unrequited passion. Still unfulfilled. I’m just as guilty.


I push.

And then blue turns to fire, and I’m hoisted in the air. More a spurt of a blowhole than another wave. I crash back into the blue, and try to object. A jubilant defiance meets me and I’m thrown into the sky again - elevated above my station. I fight my way back to control.


Through the faces of the crowd, I assemble the pieces of me like they’re the fucking Avengers. I, the talisman. And with the puzzle almost complete, it’s my turn to carry the load. They come with me. Through the people who want me to act for them. Do they not see, though? Can they not understand how fucking close I am? What if I were to never get this chance again?

Fuck.

A flame lights my way.

Of course there’s a fucking flame.

But wh…

No time to think.

I can’t let them sweep me away again. Things are finally getting clearer.


In the flickering light, through the ravenous ecstasy (or is that an ecstasy-ladden ravine?) a shimmer catches my eye. Her eyes; green and impossible. A glimmering wrist waves to me. Mindlessly, I follow.

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1C: Commune

I emerge into a small clearing by the side of the house, cut off from the near-riot by a long line of thick hedges wrapped around a sturdy iron wrought fencing, and a considerable mass of burly security. I’m not convinced it’ll be enough to hold them out for long, but for now it suffices. Betsy Granger is there waiting.

“Hey, Boop,” I greet her.

“Boop?” she cocks an eyebrow.

“Betsy. Betty. Boop,” I shrug. “You’ve had time to change. Looks like it’s party time.”

I take note of the short, studded dress she’s wearing, and the matching clutch.

“There’s always a reason to celebrate if you look hard enough,” she smiles. “You were out to sea for a while there.”

Was I? How long?

“Sorry it didn’t work out for you tonight,” I offer, falling back against the wall and letting my body slide down until I sit in the lightly-grassed soil on the building’s edge.

“Could’ve been better,” she admits. “There’ll be another chance though. Tonight’s all about you.”


The X-Treme Championship lies on the ground next to me, but it’s not about that. Not tonight. The 24/725/8 Briefcase sits in my lap and for a moment, it’s all I see.

“Congrats,” Betsy interrupts my dreaming.

“Thanks,” my head smacks back against the wall, harder than it should have. I guess that’s a comment on how little my body is listening to me right now. “How weird is this, huh?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, as she leans her shoulder against the wall next to me, looking down to where I sit.

“Three months ago I wanted to kill you.” I meet her eyes.

The honesty cuts through the night air. Betsy lets it hang there a moment.

“I knew you’d come around,” she smiles again. She’s not lying either. The patience she showed…

“I need you to know…” I start.

“I do,” she interrupts, not letting me finish. I’m not sure how to feel about that.

“Even so… there’s something not right here. I feel you’re one of the only people who seems to feel it too.” I break and lean back on the house again with another unnecessarily firm thud. “Even people who should see more, those who can even see the things that aren’t there… they’re all looking in the wrong direction.”

“Maybe this will help...” she says as she opens her clutch. Reaching in, she withdraws a small, brilliant blue stone. It shines. a swirling orb of peacock blue that hints at colours beyond the visible spectrum. She offers it to me, and I take it. To me it feels heavy, and I need both hands to hold it. I bring it close to my eyes, and I swear I can hear a voice calling from inside.

“It’s pretty,” I facetiously understate. “What is it? An Infinity Gem?”

Betsy chuckles.

“No, but to be fair, you’re not far off.” She drops down to my level, takes the stone from my hands (as if it wasn’t heavy at all), holds it up to the stars, and then drops it back into my hands. “This is your link to me and Excellence. Keep it with you, and if you need me, I’ll be there. I can’t see your mind, dear, so I don’t know if we’re seeing the same things or not. But war is definitely coming. That much I know. And you… you’re going to have a VERY big piece to play in it...”


“I’m not too big on the whole ‘destiny’ thing,” I object.

“Then don’t consider it ‘destiny’,” she replies. “Consider it a choice that you get to make.”

That sits better in my mind. I sit silently, and Betsy watches me roll the glowing stone over my palms several times. Holding it with both hands into the starlight myself, I then slide it into a pocket of my tattered, stained jeans.

“Be careful with that,” Betsy warns. “Don’t lose it. It needs to be on you.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t lose things.” Both my left and right hands rest upon the briefcase and championship respectively. “Hey, have you seen Corey anywhere?”

“I was actually wondering the same thing.”

“He’ll be here shortly.” Dolly Waters interrupts, floating around the corner. “He’s just finishing up with Thad.”

“Sounds gross.” I fight back the vomit. Stupid fucking Duke. “Thad didn’t want to come say ‘hi’?”

“No,” comes the simple reply. No jokes, no quips, not even a smile.

Groaning, I push myself to my feet, using the wall of the building as support and bringing the briefcase up with me. Betsy’s hands shadow my frame as I rise, prepared in case I topple to the side.

“Easy,” she says. I nod her off and turn my attention to the night’s organiser.

“Hell of a show, Doll’.”

“Yeah…” she agrees. “Hell.”

Betsy and I share a curious glance.

“You all right, there?” I ask. Before she can answer, the host of the evening, Corey Smith steps up beside her, sadly no longer in his referee’s outfit. He looks down at the briefcase in my hand and forces a grin.

“You did it.” He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “You actually did it.”

“It wasn’t quite how I thought it would go…” I stare at Corey. His head drops a little.

“I shouldn’t have…”

“Don’t worry.” I stagger forward, and clasp a hand on his shoulder. “You did what you thought was right at the time. That’s all you can do, no matter what Doc…”

“Did someone say ‘Dawk’?” Dolly pipes up. Betsy and I shoot each other another uncomfortable look. If Corey catches the vacancy in her voice, he doesn’t let it show.

“Yeah, look…” I step backwards so that all three are in my field of vision. “While I’ve got you all here, I just wanted to say ‘thank you’. I uh… I don’t know where I’d be without each of you. I know I’m not everybody’s favourite guy, but…”

“Yer not so bad,” Dolly interjects. “Hey, we should play laser tag!”

Even that doesn’t pique Corey’s interest.

“Yeah… maybe later though?” She smiles at my response. “I just… none of you held anything against me, even if you had good reason. And now…”

“Now you get to find yourself,” Betsy says, knowingly.

“Something like that.”

Time stands still as the sound of the party rages from the other side of the hedge. I look from one ally to the other. Every end of my emotional range influenced this moment. Hatred. Love. Utter confusion… heh. And now…

“Speaking of, I should go find my ride,” Betsy announces. “Before those crazy bastards set it on fire or something.”


“Fire!” Dolly blurts. Her eyes widen. I can hear her breath increasing rapidly. All eyes dart towards her - even Corey’s - and I quickly swoop in. Something flickers in her eyes.


“Come on, Doll’!” I reach out to her, wherever she is. Taking her hand, I gently squeeze it. As soon as they ignited, the flames died away. I gently lead her by her left hand to a large terracotta planter several feet away. For a brief moment the thought enters my head that I probably should have sat on this rather than the ground when I first linked up with Betsy here. That thought floats away like the flames.

“I’m okay…” I can tell she is. And isn’t. I look back to Corey and Betsy, and give them a thumbs up anyway. Relieved, Betsy leans into Corey’s ear and whispers something to him. She touches his hand, and as she steps away and gives a gentle wave on her departure, I catch the radiant blue within Corey’s hand as well.

He got a stone too.

“You did good, kid,” Dolly draws me back with a gentle punch in the arm. She’s back too, I think.

“So did you… kid.” Corey says with a cheeky grin as he rejoins us. He gently punches Dolly in the arm. She muffles a laugh. From the corner of my eye, I spy Corey’s smile fading a lot quicker than expected. He’s carrying something. Jeez… and people wonder how B.o.B. got any bloody traction to begin with.

“I should head off, maybe have a shower or something.” I look down at my clothes - still the same ones I wore when fighting Louis. I’m surprised anybody can even tolerate my stank. “Cor’, can I talk to you first?”

“GAY!” Dolly teases. I roll my eyes, and Corey and I step to the side.

We huddle together by the edge of a house that’s housed more monsters than men; two minds that could have the same said of them.

I make sure he’s paying attention.

“Look at me. I meant what I said, man. All you can do is what you think is right. But if you’re ever doubting, don’t use this...” I tap on his temple with my finger. Then, I move my finger to his chest and tap again. “Use this.”

“Wha…”


“I don’t need to know the ‘what’, to know the ‘who’.” He struggles to speak. I take a strange pride in rendering him speechless. While he stews on my words, I jerk my head in Dolly’s direction and speak a little louder. “Look after her.”

“I think you mean the other way round!” Dolly calls back, clearly still listening. I know these two have a stronger relationship than I do with either of them. I shoot her a crooked grin. She shoots me the middle finger.

“Alright kids, I’m off. Thanks for a wonderful evening,” I mock bow to them, the briefcase still in my hand.

“Aren’t you fergetting something?” Dolly points at the X-Treme Championship still lying on the ground.

“Oh shit!” I smack myself on the forehead and stumble over to it. I snatch it and throw it over my shoulder. “Thanks!”

“I guess it’s not like you need it now,” she says.

“Maybe, maybe not…” I pause. “That battle may be done, but it’s better that nobody else gets it until the next is won.”

“And when’s that?”

“Who knows?” I shrug. “It’s only just beginning…”

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1D: The Tick before the Tock

Pre-May 20 Anarchy

“Look into my eyes.

Do it.

What am I thinking?

Have you got it? Some sort of idea about who I am? Do you have any special insight into my psyche? Of what I do? Why I am the way that I am?

Now stop. Pause. Think for you fucking self. Ask yourself...

How does that make you feel?

HA! Fuckin’ got you, Louis! In both senses too!

You said ‘improbable but not impossible.’ I said ‘I like those odds’. So I took ‘em. Then I did it. And here we are. People are welcome to cast aspersions on how that outcome happened as much as they want, but if all it takes is one shove from Corey Smith for Big Lou’s gameplan to fall apart, then yeah… the better man won. And I’m willing to throw barbs with anybody who has an issue with that.

Because I have this…”



“Tick.

Tock.

I am on the fucking precipice of everything that I set out to do six months ago. And I hear you, Corey; I hear you, Demos; I know you want to see Chris Page fall, but… you get it, right? I explained myself on Savage, and now, I hope you’ll allow me the time to do what I need to do. Because Leap of Faith isn’t about taking that next step, it’s about clearing the fucking ground so that I have the room to move forward; to move on... unimpeded. Let’s be crystal clear here, I don’t consider the Brotherhood of Baddies an impediment; nor Avalanche; nor Centurion; nor whomever else is latched on to the other champions en route to the friggin’ moon. The only thing in my way is the baggage that I’m bringing myself, because this is my story. How many times am I going to need to say that? This was never going to stop at a briefcase. That’s a tool, not an outcome. It’s going to stop when I have what I need.

All of this is about me exerting control over my own life. Kind of like how some people try to control the narrative around how they might lose their precious championship, before they even do so. It’s almost like they’re trying to make an excuse before they lose. Thing is… if you know it’s going to happen and still don’t stop it… you’re kind of a dumbass. Especially when you have a bunch of ‘friends’ who could help stop it. Let’s just throw all ambiguity out the window: Chris, I’m talking about you and I’m damn sure willing to say it. Because I don’t fear the repercussions from B.o.B. I don’t fear a goddamn thing.

I’M IN CONTROL HERE!

Look into my eyes and tell me you see anything different.

I have everything exactly where I need it. I have my ticket to everything already secured, and I have the face of all my obstacles awaiting her commuppence with nary an ally to call upon. Not when we’re surrounded by two steel cages.

Because this planet isn’t big enough to hold this.

And one cage sure as shit can’t contain it.

It’s been a long, winding road for the two of us, hasn’t it, Lycana? For six months I’ve been chasing my answers, and for five I’ve been haunted by you. Not just you though, was it?

Andrew Logan.

Geri Vayden.

Ash Quinn.

Big Bitch Baph’.

Where are they now?

Miss Fury’s here, but not with you. All that’s left is Marf, but come Leap of Faith, even he won’t be a factor. It’s just going to be you and me, babe, and that’s significant. Because I’m not out here just spouting off the failings of the rest of your former compatriots in The Left Hand just because they’re such an easy target - even though they are. Their history, your history, is at the centre of this entire fucking thing. Everyone knows the story by now, right? I don’t need to spell it out to - hell, Lycana, you were there, for crying out loud! You were egging Ash on as she pressed that burning steel into my hand, and that set everything in motion. It led me to the likes of Jenny Myst and Tommy Romeo, not that I have anything to show for that. It also led me to Betsy Granger - congratulations, girlie, by bringing us together you proved that you can do the improbable too. But more than that, you instilled a sense of victimhood in me that I… I don’t fucking like.

That’s been the hardest pill to swallow when it comes to all of this. I had to recognise my own fallibility. And do you wanna know how that wound up for me? Take a fucking look…”



“There it is, kids! My Freddy fucking Krueger hand in all it’s glory! That’s what’s been under the glove. Except… it’s not what you and yours did, is it, Lycana? No...

I did that.

I took my fucking power back. I took control. See, it’s the recognition of my own limitations that pushed me to take the X-Treme Championship. It drove me further to my briefcase. And more importantly, it allowed me the strength of fucking will to literally burn away any fucking mark that pieces of shit like you could EVER hope to leave on me. There is no scar that you could even hope to leave that can ever rip that control away from me!

Never again.

It goes beyond the physical world too, Lycana. I’m not going to lie - I may have removed the brand, but it was the imprint on my mind that harmed me more. I’m not ashamed to say it. I struggled. But in case you haven’t fucking noticed, when faced with adversity, I overcome. Full stop, it’s what I do. I win EVERY FUCKING STRUGGLE that comes my way, and this will be no different.

In simple terms, I’m going to beat the ever loving shit out of you. I’m going to take five months of pent up rage out on your stupid fucking face. You talk about how you love pain, right? Well I’m going to reach inside your gullet, grab a hold of that cancerous fucking part of you, sing it a nice, romantic song - I’m thinking ‘Die in a Fire’ by The Living Tombstone - and then I’m going to show it some things that it ain’t ever seen before. Have you ever sat on a testicle before? No? I’ll show you how that feels. Have you ever given birth to an absolute cunt? No? Well I’ll make you feel like your momma. Have you ever caught fleas from one of those canines you plow and have one of their little larvae wriggle up your pee hole? No? Neither… but I can imagine. Oh boy, I can imagine. And in that ring, on that…


...we’re in my imagination, Ly’. So strap yourself in, ‘cause I’m gonna make you feel even worse than I do after listening to one of Thad Duke’s self-aggrandising rants. You think you enjoy pain? Not even half as much as I’m going to enjoy delivering it.

Kind of a good deal if you think about it - we both get our rocks off!

I’ve taken that image that you and your cronies burned into my handmind and I’ve thrown it onto the very fire that fuels everything that I do. My wounds are my motivation! That’s the difference between the me you’re facing now, and the guy who teamed with Jenny freaking Myst and still put you and Marfy Marfy down. Back then I was a guy who tried to deny his frailty. Now I embrace it. There is no Marf or Jenny this time - I mean, there is no Jenny, at all right? Betsy and Corey could go too. Everyone could leave me! But I’d still be here. Because just like I said before that match back in January: this is my meaning. This is my truth. And just like then, you’re not bringing even an ounce’s worth of meaning of your own to this. That pain you enjoy, it’s no more meaningful than the snake oil shit that Baph’ was selling.

But look into my fucking eyes.

You know what’s coming. You know what’s next.

Once and forever, yet for the last fucking time...

I’m going to Eat The Left Hand.

Or what’s left of it anyway.

Fuck you.”

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1E: A Dream of a Thousand Dreams

“See you soon, Cor’.”