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Dionysus · (09-22-2023)

It isn't every day that you stand in the void with the devil himsef.

But then again, this was the dream I was experiencing.

Only the devil himself was actually my uncle. Anton Heedon.

Twenty years ago, this man tried keeping the family business alive by making all kinds of shady dealings and taking out loans he knew he would never pay back. In return, he did just about anything to ensure his rivals never caught on. His crimes were only made aware when he had been charged with fraud and embezzlement, among other things. I had been more sheltered by the details of his arrest from my mother, who likely wanted me to see my uncle, her brother, in a better light. But we both knew just how evil he would be when debt collectors started pounding on our door to collect on loans I never had.

And here he was. Standing in the void with me, along with the images of my dead brothers piled around him.

Anton gave quite the evil giggle, playfully kicking at Wide Dio's head. A sickening crunch of sinew and bone echoed in the void, along with his unusually gleeful laughter. "So this is what you have been doing with your time since I have been away," Anton mocked. "Creating imaginary copies of yourself in some feeble attempt to forget me? I thought you were past all this, nephew."

"Stop calling me that," I snapped at him.

"Oh do relax, dear nephew," Anton continued, "Even at your age, you still act the weak, petulant child you were when I was arrested." He walked closer to me, aluminum bat in hand, and touched it to my face. I flinched as the bat felt incredibly cold against my face. Colder than was expected, given that he first appeared through a ring of fire. "It seems my lessons to you were not harsh enough for you."

I gently pushed the bat aside. "So what, you're going to beat those lessons into me now?"

"To what end? This is your dream, after all."

"What do you even want from me? After all this time, why now are you haunting my dreams?"

Anton's laughter was almost infectious. "My dear nephew-"

"Stop. Calling me that," I insisted forcefully.

This time, Anton shrugged. "Very well. Dionysus," He drew out saying my name, "the reason I am here to haunt your dreams is a very simple one. It is because you allow me into this space." He tapped on my forehead forcefully. "I live right here. In. Your. Head. Rent-free, for all eternity. You can force me out at any time. But you won't. You refuse to actually let me go. No amount of therapy will help you remove me. I wonder why that is..."

"You aren't my therapist," I said coldly.

"Well I am also not your uncle," Anton replied mockingly.

"No. Right now you are just my personal demon trying to psyche me out. Do you think showing me those dead faces was going to intimidate me? I haven't been afraid of you for years now."

*CRACK*

The taste of blood immediately filled my mouth as Anton slammed the bat against my jaw. Hopefully whatever I did in my sleep wasn't so bad. At worst, maybe just biting my cheek in my sleep. I spat out the blood, turning to him with a chuckle. "I thought you said that would be pointless."

"That one was for me," Anton retorted. "And no, I did not show them to you to scare you. I showed them to you as a symbol of your failures. How you will never measure up to the champion of righteousness you aspire to be." As he laughed again, his entire form changed to a pitch-black silhouette.

When he reconstituted, he took on the form of a silvery-grey haired man, an older gentleman but not nearly as old as my uncle. He was wearing a grey suit with a white shirt and red tie, though the same bat remained in his hand. "You were never going to be anything. Not if I had anything to say about it. And I was right, wasn't I?"

The form shifted once again, this time to a smaller, younger man with a blonde streak in his hair. "I used you to propel myself forward, all the while leaving you behind. Our friendship was one-sided. Your usefulness wore off the day we failed. And every day, I blame you."

The image shifted again, this time to a silhouette of a woman. A long-forgotten memory from ages ago. "You abandoned me when I needed you most. And even now, you cannot remember my face. Are you still ashamed of me? Or are you only ashamed that you could not be the hero you wanted to be?"

The form returned to that of Anton. "You see? I can take on any shape of those who you feel have wronged you in some way." He gestured to his own body. "This form is the most prevalent in your mind, having done the most damage to you in your life. The others are of little consequence; you have already made your peace with them. Now only I remain...forever haunting your dreams."

The silence was deafening. He was right; despite any hurt I might have felt over the last few years, this was the one constant that would not leave me at all. But he was wrong about one thing. "If you are, in fact, here to remain forevermore," I replied, "Then I suppose I have free reign to tell you how I really feel about you."

"Ooooh?" Anton said with excitement. He leaned closer to me, cupping a hand to his ear. "Tell me how you feel. How much you hate your uncle for all the terrible things he has done to you. That anger that is welled up inside will only feed me."

I took in a deep breath. "You misunderstand. It takes quite a bit of feeling to hate anyone, let alone you."

"...Beg pardon?"

"I don't hate you, Anton. That would require me to feel anything for you." I spoke those words with the truest conviction I could muster; words I had rehearsed in my head for some time. When I felt the time was right to finally visit him and say what I needed him to hear. This dream version of him took a step back, his face twisting in anger. "For years, your shadow has loomed over me, trying to crush any chance I had for a good life. I made the choices I made out of necessity for survival. But once I was free of your influence, I moved on. I found myself out there. I found people who respected the kind of man I am and respect the accomplishments I have made for myself. All the while, I knew you were rotting away in a cell, and that was enough for me to keep going. Over time, I stopped wondering how you were doing. Hell, it has been over a year since I have thought about you sorry excuse of a human being. So no, I don't hate you. I feel nothing for you. You got what you deserved, and my revenge is living my best life. You're not in here rent-free. You're in here as my own prison for you."

The image of Anton grew into a giant monstrosity, the bat growing in size to that of a small skyscraper. A loud howl roared through the void, as I watched the bat swing down from on high.

I closed my eyes with arms outstretched, awaiting the moment of impact.

...

...

...

I sat upright in bed, a cold sweat drenching my body.

I took several deep breaths, now realizing the whole ordeal was a dream. I ran a hand over my face, wiping away the sweat as best I could. "Until next time," I whispered to myself, as I laid back down in bed. Fatigue overtook me as I closed my eyes to sleep once again.

This time, the dream was on a field of green, the sky colored in vibrant blues and purples. Standing on a hill was a faceless woman in a flowing white gown.

...I think the dreaming will be better now.

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.

...Surprised that I would invoke the bard's words?

There was a time, long before I entered into this business professionally, where I had obtained the nickname of "The Urban Gladiator." My uncle, may his soul burn, left me with little choice in the matter, as he used my name to force debts I could not repay upon my name. I had to fight, in desperation, to clear a name that had done no wrong. They are painful lessons, memories I have chosen to bury deep within myself, in the hopes they will be lost to the river of time forever. In time, those debts were returned, my name was cleared, and now I live a much more stable and healthy lifestyle.

In short, Slade, I am not one that has to go to my worst moments to be a threat. I simply AM a threat.

The nervousness you are no doubt feeling is likely why you assume, incorrectly I might add, that my name is Deion. In fact, my given name was Dionysus Berget. No lies on that bio page about who I am and what I have accomplished. I'm certain your escapades in Lake Charles making a minor annoyance of yourself toward one dog and one used car salesman is supposed to be some subtle way of telling me that I should be afraid of just what you are capable of. You will find, however, that I am quite different to deal with than a wall-mounted television. So when you also proclaim to have "neutralized the threat," all I can sit here and do is chuckle. Deeply. Because it seems apparent to me that you really are not taking this as seriously as you should be.

But rather than fixate on just how badly you could mistake me for some car salesman out in Lake Charles, perhaps I should turn my attention to your performance as a whole. You talked a big game when thinking you could, on your "return" to in-ring action, defeat Mark Flynn and his hot streak. Despite having every advantage available to you, you still tapped out at the end of the day. So why not craft a match where that possibility is no longer there? That's right, Slade; I created this match as a favor to you. It was not a mistake to give us an even playing field. I want us to have an even playing field. You want to talk about how badly you can get into our heads, how dangerous a man you really are, that I am not booked against you, but sentenced against you.

So consider this my way of saying, "Aight, bet."

Come teach this champion a lesson in brutality. Show me why you are such a threat, not just to me, but to everyone around you. And when I knock you out, you will realize just how foolhardy this endeavor to hell will be for you.

This is no mere game anymore, Slade. I cannot guarantee your safety. We are in the pits of hell, destined to do battle. And you want to pretend that causing a mild annoyance to a complete stranger is the proof of just how threatening you are? Please; I have had shits more violent than what you've shown thus far. The Devil's Playground is your trial, where we will be seen as close to equals as you will ever hope to be. If the intent is to make me laugh, then that time has long since passed.

Despite my contempt, I am still a firm believer in creating and shaping a division where anyone is capable of usurping me. On this point alone, I will not falter. In this case, however, I have something truly worth defending; the honor of the Television Title division. Having someone like you hold this title, who refuses to treat it with the dignity and respect it deserves, is something I simply will not permit. In this one aspect, you are indeed a threat; a threat to the sanctity of all that I have done thus far to build this division to where it stands now. Some may see this as being egotistical, that I somehow made this division mine and mine alone. That obviously is not the case; I simply walked in and left my mark. However, as its current champion, it falls onto me to ensure only those who are, in fact, taking this belt seriously take it from me.

No amount of petty vengeance or squabbles with a random stranger are going to stop me from laying you flat come Relentless.

The time for toying around with you is long over. An example must be made of you, and to anyone else who thinks they can waltz into a title match with me and think it is the joke you consider it to be. When you step into those double-cages with me, there is no escape. I will bring the full focus of my fury upon you. I will show you just how bad of an idea it was to not step aside from this match-up. For you see, Slade, you had it all wrong. I'm not the one that is locked up in there with you.

You are the one who is locked up in there...with me.

Ensure your final arrangements have been made, for tomorrow comes a day too soon.

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