Pest:Hell, Karl. We do not know each other, or rather, you do not know me. That is fine, all will be corrected. What you do know of me is perhaps flawed, and that shall be corrected as well. Let us begin with proper introductions, shall we? I am Pest, and I will be the man pinning you on Monday. Do not fret, there will be no shame in it. You will do well in the fight, but there is a particular issue with this match. It is designed for me. It is a no holds barred match, for the man who honed his craft in the jungles. The man who learned no other way of fighting. You, you are a competent fighter, Lethal Lottery has shown that, but are you able to contend with someone of my caliber? You handled yourself well with the likes of SAM, and Dylan George, but let us be honest. Sam has a certain feeling to him, a feeling of Deja Vu. He reminds me of a certain man who was never taken serious. Perhaps because like the other man, SAM will never be taken serious, as he will never earn it.

And Dylan George, the man wishes he was a nightmare. He wishes he was scary and terrifying. The man wishes he was Pest. And here you stand, ready to face the real deal. The real creature Dylan George wishes he was. Are you excited, Karl? Or, will you fall back on the false bravado of utter apathy. Trust me, Karl, that is a surefire path to failure. That is a time tested, and time failed tactic that never goes over well. Surely you are above that method. Do not let us down, and do not fall into the same trap as many before you, the trap of believing us all beneath you simply for the weight your name once carried. Once.

I do not believe you will do this, Karl, but I do hope you take the advice and see it for what it is. Respect. I respect what you did at Lethal Lottery, and I respect what you had done. But, I will not allow those to paint you as anything but what you are. My next victim. Good bye, for now.

Jack, I want to address you right now. I feel as if you owe me at least the opportunity to speak my mind to you. You are correct, that I did betray you, and set you up for failure. I did not trust that you would make it further than the contendership match. I do not find the need to apologize to you for the betrayal, despite the fact that I was paid to leave the ring. I allowed you advance notice of my betrayal, and even the price of my betrayal. There was no hiding it. I was, and still am, a man who will do things when paid. The pay was not the only benefit, the pay was also backed by the humor in costing you something. Foolish me, I should have ensured your utter failure. That was my mistake. Trusting you after that, that was also my mistake. Yours, yours was to believe that you would be free of my wraith. Cain is not your concern come Madness, I am. Be on the lookout for me, Jack.

Karl, Jack, I hope you answer me. Do not ignore, Jack.

---

The Pest is laying down in his bed. He is alone, and resting. There is a knock on the door, which awakens him from his slumber. He looks at the door, and waits for the knock. The second knock comes. The Pest slowly gets to his feet, and moves toward the door. The door opens and a figure walks in. The Pest stops dead in his tracks. The figure moves slowly to the Pest. It is a brown haired good, pale, young. She appears to be a teenager. The Pest backsteps. The Figure moves. They both stop.

Figure:Hello, father.

Pest:You are dead.

Figure:Yes, father. I am dead. You watched as I died, did you not?

Pest:I did. Your sixteenth birthday.

Figure:Have I not aged a day?

Pest:You have not.

Figure:Do I still look good to you, daddy?

Pest:Just like your mother.

Figure:Did you kill her, too?

Pest:No, she died giving you to me.

Figure:So, you did kill her. You murdered her, you murdered me, and you have murdered countless others. Is that what you are telling me?

Pest:If you wish to take it as such. I seem to recall your death being forced by your own hand.

The Pest steps back, and hits the bed, he collapses onto his back. Helpless, and afraid. The figure sits atop the Pest and leans in close. Her mouth near his ear. He feels the cold from her breath as she speaks. The moisture in her mouth, or lack thereof, slaps the side of his face. Each syllable coming from her mouth resonates like a gunshot in his cerebral cortex. Each sound drives a nail into the Pest's heart.

Figure:I died because of you. You were a horrible father. You took my innocence. You took my youth. You took everything from me.

Pest:I gave you everything I had. I spent my life working to provide you with things. Provide a home, provide food, a fucking cat. Clothing so you could parade as a whore in front of the high school boys.

Figure:Parade around like a whore? Father, you have things wrong. I wanted someone to rescue me.

Pest:From what?

Figure:From you, father. I wanted to be free from you.

Pest:For how long?

Figure:Since I was thirteen. It took me three years to truly be free of you. Three fucking years.

Pest:Why would you want to be free from me? Did I not give you everything you wanted? Everything you needed?

Figure:You raped me! I was your daughter, and you raped me!

Pest:I did not rape you.

Figure:Call it what you will, the only way to be ride of the ghosts you see now. Is to kill the entity they are coming for. Take the life they want to see ended. Assist them. Allow them to find the solace they are looking for.

The Figure points to the 1911 the Pest had stolen from The Boyfriend earlier. And vanishes.

Pest:Daughter.

The Pest awakens in his bed. He is alone, and has not moved. The Receptionist lay to the side of him. The door remains closed, and the room is filled with the empty feeling of regret. The Pest looks at the gun on his side table. He picks it up, and examines it. It's heavy. Weighted to compensate for the kick of the .45. The Pest pulls the slide back, he does not look to see if a round loads. He places the pistol to his temple. The only way to end the ghosts is to end the entity the haunt. The Pest. He sighs, one last sigh. And pulls the trigger.



Click.


The empty click of a firing pin hitting an empty chamber. The Pest pulls the gun from his temple, removes the clip, and looks at the clip. Empty. The Pest slides the slide back, and examines, empty. He did not check how many bullets were in the clip after he removed it from the Boyfriend's possession. He sets the gun down, and lays back down.





In the morning, after The Boy has gone to school, the Pest sends the girl out to the mall. He requires time alone. The Receptionist is at work, and the Pest sits in his chair and thinks. Alone. No ghosts to plague his mind, and no children to pester him. The Pest sits and thinks for hours. The Receptionist comes home for lunch, and sees the Pest sitting in his chair.

She moves to him. He does not see her. Instead he focuses on the nothingness of the wall in front of him. She gets close, and sits on his lap. She kisses his cheeks, and pulls him back into the world.

Pest:Hello, Receptionist.

Christine:Hey, honey.

Pest:What are you doing here?

Christine:It's lunch time. I came to see you.

Pest:Why?

Christine:Because I want to see my boyfriend on my lunch break?

Pest:I am not your boyfriend.

Christine:You are, so.

Pest:I do not believe so.

Christine:What would you call us, then?

Pest:Acquaintances. Who occasionally have sex.

Christine:Friends with benefits? Is that what you think we are?

Pest:The flaw there is the word friends. I do not recall us being friends. Merely acquaintances that have sex.

Christine:You're an ass.

Pest:I tried to kill myself last night. I believe I need to see a therapist again.

Christine:And what if he has a receptionist that's cuter than I am?

Pest:Then it would appear you would not be needed anymore.