The time has arrived.

A moment that’s haunted my dreams. The genesis of each and every nightmare. An occasion that has never strayed far from my thoughts. A goal scribbled atop all other personal desires.

It may not seem like much to you.

Any of you.

But to me, this is the moment of my life.

The time has come for me to face – MASTERMIND.

“Are you ready?”

No response.

“I said...ARE YOU REEEEEEEAAAADYYYYY!!!”

“Yes, I’m ready, would you guys calm down?” If I sound agitated, it’s because I totally was. The outfit I’d been given by the group of LARPers who answered my Facebook ad was pretty shitty. It wouldn’t fit right...kept grabbing at my skin, pulling my arm hairs. Totally bush league.

The Michael Buffer wannabe put his hands in the air in an innocuous gesture. He was doubling as an announcer and a knight...or something. Like I said, these costumes weren’t very illustrative. They looked like something a Christian elementary school pulls together from a hall closet for an impromptu stage performance. And that might be giving them too much credit.

Mof finished chewing on the final nail he had left, “I still think this is a bad idea.”

I shot back, “Eddie, would you let me handle this? It’s only the biggest match of my career. The match I’ve desired for years.”

“I get that...but...LARPing? With...what even are these people...are they kids? Teens? Young adults without jobs?”

“They are LARPers! They answered The Wizard’s call. We shall treat them with respect,” I commanded, slowly placing the horridly made helmet over my hooded, wizardly head.

“Uh, sir, are you ready now?” the announcer asked, his cadence dialed down to a human level.

“Yes,” my voice muffled via the helmet, “now I want you ALL to attack me at once.”

They looked around, surprised.

“All of us?” the announcer/knight asked.

“Yes, all of you.”

Mof grabbed at my sleeve, nearly tearing it in half, “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. Why ALL of them?”

“Because,” I turned, trying to look him in the eye, but the helmet was dark, lending near-zero visibility. So I took the best guess as to where Mof stood, “Mastermind has his Misfits. I need to be prepared to face them all if need be. I CANNOT lose this match, Ed.”

With a sigh coated in frustration, Mof released my sleeve, threw his hands in the air, and yelled, “SERENITY NOW!” before walking away, kicking some rocks.

“Okay,” I lowered my voice, getting my game face on under my helmet, “Let’s get it on.”

And get it on we did.



“Mr. Wizard...Mr. Wizard...are you okay?” the announcer/knight asked, standing over The Wizard. XWF’s hottest act was down, in the dirt. He wasn’t moving. He appeared – dead.

Edward Mof fought through the LARPers, knocking them on their asses. He looked to be the most adept LARPer in the group. Dropping to one knee, he worked to carefully remove the helmet from The Wizard’s head. “C’mon, kid…”

“Is he just pretending?” A LARPer asked.

“He’s really good!” another noted excitedly, through braces and a wide smile. This LARPer was super impressed.

Mof didn’t believe The Wizard was faking. He knew the man had too much pride to go down so quickly. He removed the helmet. The hood remained. Mof realized he had to get some air to The Wizard’s head. He turned and scowled at the LARPers, “BACK AWAY, ALL OF YOU!” He couldn’t risk these LARPers spotting The Wizard’s true identity and handing it over in exchange for a box of pizza rolls.

They did as instructed. The LARPers huddled. The seriousness of the situation began to resonate within their childlike minds. Mof gently lifted The Wizard’s head from the ground and slid the hood back. “No...NO!” he shouted. “COME BACK TO ME, KID!” he screamed. The Wizard’s face was pallid, a ghostly complexion of pale.

In unison, the LARPers screamed and ran away.

---

Edward Mof stood over the stricken Wizard. The blurring of his face didn’t hide the fact he was all tubed up to a bunch of medical devices, clinging to life by the skinniest of threads. Hands in his pockets, Mof produced the posture of a man defeated.

“I should have stopped you,” he lamented, “I just had no idea LARPing could be so dangerous.” With a sniffle, he wiped a desolate tear to the floor. The man’s emotion pushed him into rare territory. The realm of confession. It was now or never.

“I know you resented me all these years. I never understood why…” he paused, rephrasing his stance, “or, well, I guess I understood it. I just didn’t get the anger.” Swallowing enough air to suppress emotion, he continued, “But that’s no excuse for failing to apologize. I’m sorry, kid. I’m sorry if my actions ran her away.”

---

“Yea! There ya go! Get him, Mastermind! Master his mind! Let’s go! Hell yea!”

You see? It didn’t start off as HATE. It didn’t even begin as indifference. Nope, it all began with admiration. As a lowly pledge, learning the art of Pro Wrestling, I ADMIRED Mastermind. He was what I strove to emulate. I craved his success.

Why? How? Two strong and succinct questions.

Here comes a two birds, one stone reply. Not so succinct, I’m afraid.

There was an old TV in the locker room of the gym I trained in. It aired nothing but Mastermind matches. All-day, all night. So, while gearing up, showering, or using the facilities...that’s what I heard. That’s what I saw. THAT’S WHAT I WATCHED.

Mastermind defeating this guy. Mastermind defeating that guy. Mastermind mastering everyone’s mind that dared step foot inside the ring with him. It was, dare I run the risk of getting punny...it was fucking MASTERFUL.

Like a child growing up, watching Muhammad Ali, I was enraptured. This was MY hero. He was THE standard. If I wanted to be a champion. If I wanted to be a LEGEND. I needed to become as good as Mastermind.

---

“AHHHH!” I screamed! I was falling...free falling! It was like a dream, only I refused to wake up. Instead, I just kept falling. “Whatthefuck!” I repeated over and over, looking every which way, only to find the same, harrowing conclusion – darkness. I was in the void. A black hole.

What the fuck? Like, normally when I’m having some kind of weird-ass dream or nightmare, I realize it. Might take a while...but eventually, it hits me, “ah, yea, this is a fuckin dream. Okay, I can chill now.”

Not this time. Nope. I’d been falling for HOURS. This was real.

Last memory I could conjure was being rushed by all those LARPers. They threw their spells and weapons at me. Those didn’t hurt. What did catch me and more importantly, my breath, was that tight mask over my hood. I remember not being able to breathe...stumbling around and then…

THIS.

A FUCKING FREEFALL.

The hell was I going? Or was I already there. Ya know, Hell. Was this my own personal hell? I was scared of rollercoasters and they do say Hell is comprised of something you fear. Could it be -

THUD!

FUCKING OUCH!

Holy fuck that hurt.

Ugh.

Well, I guess that answers the aforementioned question. There WAS a destination. A hard one.

Yet, I wasn’t dead. Which, I dunno, I’m no expert on physics but it seems as though a landing after hours worth of falling SHOULD result in instant death.

Weird.

Gathering my wits as well as my weight, I stood. Consumed in darkness, the only item my eyes were able to snatch appeared in the form of thin, yellow light, struggling through the tiniest of slits. Taking a few, tenuous steps forward, I extended my arms. It didn’t take long for them to hit land, or, in this case, a door. Sliding down the slick surface, I grasped a handle.

“Wait.”

I hesitated. I’d just fallen down a giant hole. I experienced a rough landing. Now, standing in the darkness, I was about to open a door leading me to...probably no place I wanted to be. So, I did the rational thing and looked for an alternative exit.

It’s hard to explain what surrounded me when you eliminated the door. It wasn’t exactly gel. It wasn’t exactly thick air. It wasn’t exactly fur. It was a less than firm surface, yet completely impenetrable. A ridiculous vision of my near seven-foot frame climbing all the way back up lasted a few seconds before being dismissed. Dropping to my knees, I felt around, only to discover the hard floor held no secret that would lead to alleviation for my conundrum.

My fingers attempted to wedge underneath the foreign walls, to no avail. Struggling to my feet, thanks to an aching back, I reached the inevitable conclusion that I was trapped – save for that door.

“Well, here we go.” I re-located the handle, turned down, and pushed forward, entering into the other side.

---

The clock read 4:47am. Darkness subdued the hospital that housed the comatose Wizard. Mof, slouched in a really uncomfortable hospital chair, half-opened his right eye. It’s destination – the clock.

“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled, shifting around. The man hoped more time had elapsed. Time crawls when it needs to speed and speeds when it needs to crawl – it’s a bitch like that.

Deciding sleep was no longer an option, Mof sat up and blinked several times while scratching his hair. Stumbling to his feet, he looked inside a bag packed for The Wizard, should he wake up. Inside he found the very VHS tape The Wizard used to watch when he idolized Mastermind.

Mof sighed, flipping the VHS tape over. To say this thing had seen better days would be a gross understatement in regards to its dilapidated condition. In fact, if an experienced VHS user were forced to guess, they’d probably surmise the thing had been ripped, violently from an unrelenting grip. Bottom line, it was now unplayable. The device served only as a reminder.

Edward tossed it back into The Wizard’s bag and exited the room, in search of coffee – or a drink – or, preferably both.

---

“What the fuck are you doing?” My trainer asked, for apparently the fifth or sixth time. I’d blocked everything out, choosing to stare at my opponent.

“I’m mastering his mind,” I replied.

“Uh,” my trainer slapped the apron with both hands, leaning his right ear forward in disbelief, “excuse me?”

“I said…” my eyes narrowed, my voice grew raspy, “I’m mastering his mind.”

The gym was filled with that ‘wtf’ aura. I didn’t care. They didn’t understand. They were merely wrestlers. Nobody in that gym was a Mastermind. I’d seen greatness. I witnessed it on a daily basis inside the locker room. THIS, mastering someone’s mind, was how you conquered your opponent. I was going to get it right.

“Lay his ass out!” the trainer yelled. My opponent, a shorter but far stockier man, charged at me. I continued staring him down. He drilled me into the mat with a spear. I lost consciousness for a moment and my wind for several. Rolling toward the apron where Mof provided support, I overheard laughter.

They were mocking me. But that was okay. I’d get it down. Before long I would master all of their minds.

---

The door slammed shut behind me. Instantly, I turned for it, seeking a reprieve from the lone decision at my disposal. Anathema was in the air. This was NO place to be.

Swiping for the handle, my hand found air. The door sank into the gelatinous substance that comprised the walls. My head lowered, in defeat. My mind felt bent. At my very core, I was astray.

“Don’t quit,” the voice of Ed Mof echoed inside my head.

I turned, facing what lay ahead. On the far end of the room, a new door appeared. All that lay between me and that door was air and opportunity. A fear that can best be described as that feeling you get when you take the trash out late at night, enticing you to run back to the house. That’s what I felt. I took off, sprinting for the new door.

Until, my feet became stuck. Looking down, the once hardened floor transformed into the very, strange gelatinous substance that made up the room. I couldn’t move. Turning to my left, I saw a fire begin to emerge. Thankfully, it was in place.

The illumination displayed a giant chair in front of the fire. On the back of the chair was stuck a plate that read ‘Thinking’. A man sat in the chair. Only the back of his head visible.



Could he help?

“Uhm, hello...I…”

And, suddenly, he turned around.



WHAT.THE.FUCK.

The...man stared a hole right through me. If my feet weren’t stuck, my frozen body would have made running an impossibility. Who was this man and why was he staring at me?

“Hello, Wizard.” His mouth didn’t move, but his voice boomed throughout the strange room. “This has been a long time coming.”

I couldn’t move my mouth. But, somehow, like this man, I spoke, “Who are you?” I began to freak out, feeling my mouth, “Why aren’t my lips moving?”

“Just go with it, Wizard.” I dared not argue the man. “For years I’ve haunted your mind, both forms of consciousness. I’ve never been far from your thoughts. You’ve been unable to move beyond me. I have, in effect, Mastered your Mind.”

“Wait, you’re not…”

His eyes widened. The black eyes bearing down upon me. “I am your personal demon. I am your Mastermind.”

I had a Mastermind? A bug embedded within my brain from the trauma caused years earlier? Was this the very reason I’d been unable to achieve success in life. Like a virus, had my own personal Mastermind infected my cerebrum? Had I allowed my brain to be mastered?

“Yes.” He replied.

I shook, “You heard all that?”

“Yes.”

I did my best not to think.

“Not thinking won’t help.”

…

“Ellipses won’t help, either.”

“Well, then what the fuck do I do?” my voice shrilled with pity.

---

Ding.

The elevator doors opened. Several hospital staff exited, hustling with the urgency medical officials need to be successful. One person remained behind, Edward Mof. A steaming, large styrofoam cup of coffee gripped in one hand, he reached to close the doors with the other.

They shut. He pulled out a tiny bottle of whiskey, emptying it into the coffee. While mixing it with his straw, the doors open. He stepped out, back onto the floor containing his one and only client.

With a nod, he greeted the receptionist. By now he had the walk memorized. Scooting down the hallway, he turned away from the rooms that smelt funky. Upon reaching The Wizard’s room, he opened the door to find a nurse exiting. Her face carried concern.

“What is it?”

She hesitated before forgoing concern and blurted out, “Some woman has been trying to get up here. I believe she’s called...Tranny?”

“You mean Fanny?”

“Yes, her!” The nurse’s face suddenly reddened, “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I just called her Tranny.”

“That’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. Could you just...keep her away for now?”

The nurse nodded and left Mof alone with his client. He took a sip of his coffee and gazed upon The Wizard’s motionless body. Edward could sense something...a struggle...a few wrinkles in The Wizard’s forehead. Leaning over, he whispered, “What’s going on in there, kid? Are you okay?”

---

“I am very much NOT okay,” my voice yelled throughout the strange, gooey room. My personal Mastermind laughed. The black, sticky goo continued to consume my very being. I was at risk of being swallowed whole.

“This was inevitable, Wizard. Let it happen. Give it up.”

“Kid.” A new, benevolent voice slid into the dark, hazardous room.

“Ed...Edward, is that you?” It sounded like Ed.

“Fight, kid...fight. We need you.” It WAS Ed. Only, it seemed as though he couldn’t hear me. But his words, they acted as an elixir to kick my personal Mastermind’s ass. Fuck this shit!

Fighting, I tore away from the black gunk that had latched onto my skin. My upper body free, I yanked my right foot away from the clutches of some deep, dark place I did not want to experience. The left leg followed.

It wasn’t easy. It took a really long time. But eventually, I reached the door on the other side of the room.

Grasping the handle, I twisted downward, opened the door, and turned, facing my own personal Mastermind. With narrowed eyes, my voice shot across the room, “Eat shit, Mastermind!”

I stepped through the door.

---

“Keep fighting kid,” Mof reiterated, standing over The Wizard. And, like that, The Wizard went calm, back to a state of cerebral serenity.

Edward smiled and threw back a generous helping of whiskey-fueled java. His ass plopped down in the chair, the liquor in his veins told him the cushion was comfier than he remembered. He leaned back, placing what remained of the cup on the tray within arm’s reach.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Mof spoke aloud. “He’s gonna be okay. The kid is gonna be okay.” He repeated the phrase over and over. It grew quieter with each repetition until he fell silent. Passed out in the chair.

The clock read 6:32am.

---

They helped me to the back – Mof and a fellow trainee, kinder than most. The type of guy who hates to see someone bullied or taken advantage of. While we remained unfamiliar enough to lack the knowledge of our real names, I had ample understanding of the man to realize he would be there if the situation called for support.

Holding my ribs. They felt as though they were split wide open. I swore a river of blood was flowing from my ribcage, into my internal organs. Death felt possible.

“Relax,” Mof’s soothing voice acted as medicine to relieve some of the pain. “You might have a cracked rib or two. Nothing serious.”

Seated atop a wooden bench, I leaned against the lockers, arm wrapped around my throbbing waist. My eyes found the tv. There he was, Mastermind. About to vanquish another opponent.

“Yes…” I coughed, barely able to speak, “you show him who’s boss, Mastermind…”

A concerned Mof motioned for me to remain quiet. The kind, helpful wrestler folded his arms, “Why do you like that guy so much, kid? Of all the wrestlers to idolize you pick…”

“Because he’s the greatest!” I sat up, violently. Not the greatest idea. I spat blood. I coughed, violently. Mof hurried over, holding me, rubbing my back.

I felt his arm shoo the other wrestler away. “It’s okay, kid. Breathe, relax...breathe…”

---

I stepped through that door, feeling like a champion. Freedom had to be mine. I’d passed the test. While far from hard, it wasn’t what I’d call easy. Took gumption, spirit, and strength.

All things a man needs to overcome his demons.

Ready, I was. Stepping into the new room, I awaited a light. I awaited an elevator. Some stairs. Something to return to normalcy. Get me back in the right timeline, right dimension, right reality so I could continue, finalize, and hone my preparation for my greatest rival, Mastermind.

None of those things met me on the other side of the door.

More darkness.

The door behind me slammed shut. Again, I turned, reaching for it – but, like the previous room, it was gone.

Spinning around, I spotted a door appear on the opposite side of the very dark room. I felt around the walls...they were different. Finally, SOMETHING different. They were marble...maybe granite – regardless of their geological composition, they were hard and smooth.

And then...I saw it.

A chair

A FUCKING CHAIR.



“No…” my voice groaned around the room, “no, no, no, no…” I fell to my knees, hands clasped together, “please, no…” I shook my clasped hands at the chair, “not again, please not again, let me go...let me be free!”



“NOOOOOO!!!” My horrific screams bounced around the walls, dying like a tree falling within a thick forest.

Things were worse than I realized.

My mind was crippled with mastery.

I had a long way to go if I had any hope of escaping.