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James Raven · (07-03-2017)

Stepping through the black curtain after a match usually goes one of two ways; you can't face anybody, you're weak with shame and guilt, your body hurts... or it's like walking through the gates of heaven.

This time is definitely in the latter category.

My agent, Jeremy Silver, meets me backstage as soon as the curtain shuts behind me. He throws his arms around my shoulders and bear hugs me, bouncing excitedly.

SILVER: You did it! You fucking did it! You just mother fucking DID. THAT. SHIT!

The XWF staffer standing near the curtain shoots him a dirty look. He shoots her the bird.

SILVER: Fuck you! My boy just beat the Universal Champion like he was a goddamned snare drum! He just made Chris Chaos look like a bitch! I'll celebrate as loudly as I fucking want to!

She rolls her eyes but says nothing. He turns back to me.

RAVEN: You say all of that like you're surprised.

SILVER: Surprised? Of course I'm not surprised! You're the GOAT!

RAVEN: I can't take all the credit, Doc held up his end of the-

I motion to my partner who had followed me through the curtain, but he's already gone. I look up and down the hallway but there's no sign of him.

SILVER: What a creepy bastard.

RAVEN: Tell me about it. Did you hear what happened when I went to his office?

SILVER: You had hot flashes like a bitch. Everyone heard. Fuck Doc. Back on topic! You just beat the Universal Champion right before you take the title off of him! He's going to dream about this for a month! He's going to wake, shaking! When he lines up against you at King of the Ring, he's already going to know that you're better than him! This is GREAT! You've already won the war!

Suddenly the female staffer gasps loudly, and throws her hands up over her mouth.

SILVER: What? What could I have possibly said to offend you now? Are you a Jim Caedus fan or something? Did Daddy slip someone that Big Dick?

STAFFER: FUCK! YOU! Watch the monitor you freaking pig!

SILVER: The monitor? What fucking monitor?

She points franticly above our heads, and for the first time I notice a small television set angled into the corner of the wall. On it I see Jim Caedus, still broken in the ring from the beat down D'Ville and I just put on him. He's not alone though.

SILVER: Who the fuck is that?

RAVEN: John Blaq.

SILVER: Again, who the fuck is that?

RAVEN: Just some

.

The staffer looks appalled.

RAVEN: Don't worry. It's an inside joke.

STAFFER: Oh... like... a clever nickname?

RAVEN: Sort of. He loves to suck cocks. So we call him a

. Clever, right?

The thick green smoke in the ring clears and I see Blaq brandishing something large and rectangular in his hands. A briefcase. It takes me a second; we didn't have 24/7 back in my day but Chris Chaos spends enough time bitching about it that I'm totally aware of the implications.

SILVER: What the hell? Is this even legal?

STAFFER: It's a 24/7 case, it means you can-

SILVER: I know what the hell it is, I'm asking if it's legal! Does this

even have a briefcase?

STAFFER: It's in his hands.

Jeremy turns to me with a look that says he's going to throttle a bitch, but I'm too focused on the television monitor as Blaq pulls off his mask. People recognize him. I don't.

RAVEN: Who da fook is dat guy?

SILVER: I don't know, but it looks like they're about to let him cash in. Must be legit.

RAVEN: Fuck.

SILVER: How good is this guy? Maybe Caedus can still hold him off?

RAVEN: He's fucked.

I watch in horror and silence as "Bruce Blingsteen" lays out the Universal Champion; soon to be the Universal Champion no more.

SILVER: JESUS CHRIST!

RAVEN: Fuck.

SILVER: Is this real?

RAVEN: FUCK.

SILVER: No way this can stand, absolutely no way in hell.

RAVEN: I don't know. I don't see any signs that it's getting called back. I think there's just a new champion in town. We may have to come up with a plan b.

SILVER: Nope. No plan b. We're going to fuck this Blingsteen guy up. Who cashes in a briefcase when James Raven is already the contender waiting in the wings? Ballsy. Really fucking ballsy.

STAFFER: Would you guys please stop swearing?

SILVER: Holy shit, you're still here? No, no I will not stop. Are you seeing what's happening here? Bruce fucking Blingsteen. The guy sounds like a porn actor, and not a good one either. The kind taking it in the ass from three guys because he heard "that's how you work your ways to the girls".

STAFFER: Ewww... stop it!

SILVER: You're the squeamish type, aren't ya? Awesome. Hey James, are you hearing this chick? James?

I stopped listening to the two of them bicker a few minutes ago. I'm totally rooted in place and transfixed by the television monitor. I haven't been able to stop churning through possibilities; who is Blingsteen, and am I facing him at King of the Ring? Do I have to step aside and let Caedus get his rematch? Am I looking at a triple threat to regain my belt after all this time and energy spent searching for a one on one shot? It's only when XWF GM JT Washinton storms past us and through the black curtain to the ring that I snap out of my daze. Even then, it's only because he suddenly appears on the monitor I'm watching.

RAVEN: Wait, what the hell? OH! OH SHIT! This isn't over yet!

SILVER: What are you talking about?

RAVEN: Jon Blaq vs. JT Washington was the original main event! Blingsteen's going to have to fight again.

SILVER: For the belt, though?

RAVEN: If there's really a God.

STAFFER: It's for the title, look, the referee it taking it over to the announcers table.

SILVER: Thank you. We were totally oblivious to what that meant.

He turns to look at me, smiling widely.

SILVER: So you're a believer now, huh? Want to go to church on Sunday?

RAVEN: Fuck you.

SILVER: The lord wont appreciate such language, just a heads up.

I shoot him a furious gaze and point at the monitor. The back and forth here is cute, but what's happening in the ring right now directly impacts my life and career. That means it impacts his life and career. If he doesn't understand that enough to pay attention, he can at least shut the fuck up. He quiets down like a scolded child and returns his attention to the television set. By the time I look back to the screen, JT Washington is celebrating.

RAVEN: How the-

SILVER: I didn't see how that just happened. Did he win? Is the general manager really the champion now?

RAVEN: I know as much as you do, you distracting bitch. If you hadn't been sitting here and making your little quips the entire goddamn time, I might actually be able to answer that. Don't get me wrong, Jeremy, you're generally really good at your job... but sometimes I wonder what the hell you're-

Out of the corner of my eyes I see the black curtain flick wide open and another body storm through to the ring. I turn to the XWF staffer.

RAVEN: Who just went out there?

STAFFER: Theo Pryce.

He appears on screen a moment later; the man controlling the entire company after Vinny Lane prevented me from putting him down once and for all at High Stakes. My blood boils a little each time I see him. I respect the man, don't get me wrong... but I still have something to prove there.

He speaks into the microphone, but the crowd roars make it too difficult to hear him clearly from backstage. There's no sound on the television set.

SILVER: What's he saying?

RAVEN: No idea.

SILVER: Is Washington the champ?

RAVEN: I don't know.

SILVER: Is Blingsteen?

RAVEN: I don't know.

SILVER: Where does all of this leave you for King of the Ring?

I almost punch him in the mouth. Instead I take a deep breath and turn slowly away from the monitor.

RAVEN: I don't know. These are all excellent questions, and ones that as my agent you should begin finding the answers too. I'm going to take a shower, and change. I'll meet you back at the hotel. I want answers when I get there. Understood?

SILVER: You got it, champ.

I turn and walk away from the gorilla position like a victim staggering away from a car crash. Confused. Disoriented. There's only one question blasting away inside my mind, over and over again.

STAFFER: What just happened?

FADE TO BLACK
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[Image: RavenCanada.jpg]

Sorry Barney, I wasn't trying to leave you hanging all week, I swear.

I know a match with me is the closest thing to relevancy you've sniffed since I left, and you worked damn hard to convince everyone to make it happen. I'm sure a part of you was terrified I had just up and ditched you like your mother did on her prom night (in a gas station bathroom, if rumors are true? Or was it a dumpster?) but have no fear Barney... your ass whooping is still on schedule.

Barney you one-eyed, six-titted, nine-toothed, quarter ton

. Why are we doing this again? We've done this dance and sang the chorus together through your bloody teeth at least a half dozen times. Why put yourself through the torture and humiliation once more?

Do you honestly think I've declined that much? Do you honestly think you've improved? No. I think we both know that this is a publicity stunt more than anything, Barney. Stop pretending this is about inflicting pain on me. You're not capable. Stop pretending you don't care about the fans anymore when all you're doing is screaming out for attention and begging for a hug. You're not punishing me, you're not punishing the company; the moment you called me out is the moment you punished yourself, and with the ferocity of someone with a fetish for it you kinky fuck.

You've taken a lot of shots to the head over the years, Barney. You're right about that. A good amount of them have been to the face from a trannys cock, but a handful were chair shots that seemed to have knocked your brain loose. I can barely understand what you're saying these days. You did pose an interesting question to me in one of those garbled promos, though. With a resume like mine, why did I come back if not to play the savior and feed my ego? Well aside from the well documented "I came back because

gave me all the old XWF shows in exchange" thing?

I came back because I was never finished here, Barney. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the XWF was taken from me. That's why I've been away. That's why I never came back to claim the Universal title I was forced to forfeit. That's why I never came back to cross the 100 win plateau. That's why I wasn't here to keep the curtain jerkers like you in their place instead of letting a cockroach take over the house and become World Champion.

I came back because

pulled me from the Top 50 and Hall of Legends and this new generation didn't know who I was, and I never stopped being the best. The best there's ever been, and the best any of you bitches will ever see again.

I won High Stakes. I beat the Doc. I beat Jim Caedus, and I'll beat him or whoever else is holding the belt at King of the Ring.

Who the fuck are you to think you're going to stop me? You have more losses than pounds on your body, and less charisma than fissures on your tranny rammed asshole. You're sick of putting your body through hell for the XWF? Then you should have kept my name out of your mouth. You're upset Chasm took that eye home and bronzed it for his mantle? I'll rip out your fucking heart and feed it to my dog... bit by bit, though, he couldn't handle that much lard in one sitting.

Sorry to hear about Foley Anderson. You'll see him again soon.

Fuck you.

Fear the Raven... ah, fuck it... you're not even worth the effort. I'm not even going to edit this shit.

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