OOC: The doors are clickable. So with that, let's do this.

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1A: Altered Altars

Five altars.

Kaleidoscope clouds coil around the stone slabs in protean puffs. As they are want to do.

In the background, beyond the thrumming, existential meningeal membranes (that’s as much of a mouthful as Lou had at May Day!), the chaos without continues to rage. Separate, yet indistinguishable from the inner peace inside this sanctum. Palpating veins stretch across the surface of the dividing wall, weaving their stories across my mind. But here I stand.

My own story.

The map, inherited as it was. Left behind by a force that can’t be found.


The dagger, taken as it was. Obtained from the enemy through sheer will.


The rope, created as it was. A symbiosis of those whom would harm and help.


The stone, gifted as it was. Visions of tomorrow.


The final altar is bare.

The mystery of this has been overstated. I know what lies beyond. You do too. It’s that intangible goal. The other side. But that’s not the challenge. I just need to get this fucking thing to work!

I place the Universal Championship atop the altar once more. And now…




The universe, earned as it was. All questions put to rest.


There is a shining light.
There is a ringing bell.
The heavens open up,
As do the gates of hell.

Doors reveal themselves, embedded in walls of nothing.

Today is the reason
I wished upon a star.
Rocks streak across the sky,
They fall and leave a scar.

This is it. This is what I have been waiting for. I was made for it.


A phoenix turned to ash?
A mythic tale of woe?
Childish games and playthings?
A bountiful meadow?

There is a shining light. There is a ringing bell. As I step to the doors, there is choice to be made. But don’t worry, you don’t need to choose your own adventure, the path has already been set. Just explore a little. You’ll get to the same point in the end no matter what.

Just like I will.

This is just a little trope that I thought it might be nice to revisit after a while. A throwback to another life. But I’m not shutting doors. No sir! Not this time.

The doctor’s door is always open…

No blowtorch or fireworks needed.

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Nothing here, jackass!

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1B (Black): The Monster





The lights peel away. It’s all black. Dark and spooky. More on that later. Or not. Who knows? Who ever knows? The fun is in the mystery.

The fun is in the monster.

It looks back at me from through the open door. I raise my right hand and it raises its left.


But it’s not a mirror. It’s just an aspect. Incomplete.

“Hi Lou.

Or… a version of you. One that *POOFED* away almost as quickly as it arrived!

Hey… why didn’t that work?

I like cereal too!

So ominous it was. Scared me to the bones. My very own skeleton shook, you should’ve seen it! Oh what a sight! Louis, with a K! The big bad made badder. Burned and charred, and not just his hand either!

I could use that gauntlet, you know.

No sir-eee, ol’ Lou was well-done right down to his little pants doctor! Don’t ask me how I know that, I may or may not be making it up.

But there he was, a black hole of terror, with just a hint of fun sprinkled on top. Like Burning Man, but without the orgies (I think). Oh yes! There certainly was a modicum of fun to be had. After all, they don’t call it ‘playing with fire’ for nothing! Crispy Lou got to go to the moon - I’m glad I’m not the only one! Crispy Lou got to lose a race. Crispy Lou got to beat on Chaos! (I’m glad I’m not the only one redux). Crispy Lou got to… err… that’s it, I guess.

Huh…

Crispy Lou didn’t do a whole lot, did he? But he was still super scary!

Right?

Right?

Right?

Left.

HA!

No wonder he… *POOFED* away again.

…

…

…

Seriously, Cadryn?! Rude.

Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

Tell me about the fire, Lou. Tell me how it felt to be turned to ash. After all, I’m the only one who can relate. Me and my phoenixing, eh? Me and my copying you, as you said in all the to-ing and fro-ing before War Games. Cool line, that. Blah blah blah AtaraCorey blah blah blah. Cry me a fucking river, then drown in it. Now that’d be a novel way to die! Maybe coming back as Swamp Thing would actually make you better, instead of whatever the fuck actually happened. The big bad got badder, all right. Just not that kind of ‘badder’.

So bad. Cringe even. Better hit the reset button and go back to what you started with!

But I saw. We all did. The inside bits were on the outside, and as far as I’m concerned, Lou was exposed. With the lights turned on the spooky sound was just a little pussy cat. Pussy. Who cares what I think though, right? I’m sure you heard the sarcasm dripping off my admissions of fear. Maybe that wasn’t what you were going for though. Maybe you were going for…

Umm…

That thing. You know…?

…

Huh?

Oh, nothing? Well great job then! You did it!

Points for trying something different, I suppose. How much of that were you in control of? It’s okay if the answer is ‘none. I uh… I know a thing or two about having things just happen to you. The colours I saw may have been different but you certainly spoke with the same kind of cadence, so I guess there was a part of the old you in there, behind the droop.

Side note (literally!):

Sorry for talking about the colours again, I know how much you hate that.

Kind of thought you’d be able to diagnose that for me though.

So the thing I’m tossing up about, Lou, is whether that whole fiendish face change was just for show. I know it’s done now; discarded back into the void. But if you’re going to be out here throwing stones about my literally getting set on fire by an enemy as if it’s some sort of copy of you, then inevitably the question is going to have to come down to ‘who did it better?’ and uh… you are chasing me there, bud. Both in the real world, and in this little analogy.

Broadly speaking, you’re chasing me again with this match fight in general. But I’m probably talking about that right now behind another door, so for now I’ll just drop that point like it’s extra-evil you and you can go and find it at your own leisure. Better yet, I’ll drop it like it’s you, full-stop.

You came back a monster, right? But people already called you that. A fresh coat of paint didn’t change a thing, and I’m taking your reversion as a sign that you’re realising that. Same ol’ Lou, except now the drapes matched the carpet. Me? I came back as the Universal fucking Champion. Those two things are not the same. We are not the same. Put aside the flames; put aside their scars; put aside all the vibes, the lore, the myth. Break us down to our smallest parts and though we may bleed the same, though we may burn the same, we are here for very different reasons. That vision of you as a seared piece of meat - for the eating, I might add - where the outside looked like the innards, that’s fairly emblematic of everything that you try to do. You and your head-games, trying to sow doubt. I don’t know how much you’ve been paying attention in between your trips to the void (did I steal that from you too?), but I’m too dumb to feal fear.

And too stubborn to doubt myself.

So if you’re not going to be the bastard son of Freddy Kreuger and yo mama, what’s it going to be? What new trick do you have up your sleeve? Or is it just going to be more of the same line of attack? Painting me out to be some sort of happy accident. Painting me out to be a force pulling on the strings of others.

A monster.

Just Like You.

Blah blah blah AtaraCorey blah blah blah.

Shit, maybe you’re right! I am a bit of a beast, aren’t I? Running through the world, eating this and that while I flip off anyone and everyone. If that makes me a monster, so be it. But while you get your jollies by seeing others suffer, I get mine by fighting. For myself. And the fight? It ain’t over yet, Lou. Not by a longshot.

Does that make me a monster? Maybe to you. Maybe I’m the monster that haunts your void, or whatever. Immune to your wily charms. Because, didn’t you hear?

I’m the world-beater. The war-winner. The legend-breaker. The Godkiller.

I’m the motherfucking Kingslayer.

Falling to me once made you look like a fiend.

After Relentless, when you’ve fallen to me twice… you’re going to look like my bitch.”


~~~~~

Behind the door of black
The sun’s death ushers night.
I hear a ringing bell.
I see a shining light.

~~~~~







Or if you’re done exploring...

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Nothing here either!

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1B (Gold): The King





All that glitters is gold. Light, reflected off of every surface, becomes meaningless. The treasure room is full. But there is still that yearning.

The yearning of a king.

He waves a royal gauntlet at me. Just another shiny object. I clench my own gloved hand. It yearns too.

“The king is dead! Long live the king!

Did I say that already? Months ago I mean. I can’t remember. If I didn’t, then I really missed an opportunity to ham it up a bit. If I did, well then I’d say I completely met my own exceptionally low expectations for entertaining myself. Go me!

Have you met your expectations, Lou? Floating in and out, as is your want, since you became king… have you done everything you wanted? You rose up for Leap of Faith, and all you have to show for the effort is Karen Hunt’s dildo. You rose up for War Games and… well… we know how that worked out for you, don’t we? So many threats made, and just like at May Day, so much of that not followed through on. Now, I know you took another round on Chris Chaos’s bootyhole in that time as well, but I actually think highly enough about you to think that while you probably enjoyed that - I certainly did as well - you’re not exactly going to boast about it. Not after he shit the bed AGAIN at War Games.

You know… like you did.

Ladies and gentlemen! This is our ‘king’! He’s not there very often but when he is - you wouldn’t even notice!

Bring back the throne, I say. That at least gave me a few chuckles. However, I guess we don’t have a Universal Champion willing to bend the knee either anymore. Might be less of a comedy fest without Page puckering up. With all this in mind, Lou, I’ve got a question that I feel compelled to ask you, and since you seem so committed to the bit of falling when you come up against me, I’m going to commit to the bit myself and give you my best Urkel impression!

‘Did I do that?!’

You were the king, for crying out loud! Wouldn’t know it based on recent performances. So I ask again, sans-silly voice though you can add one if you’d like: did I do that? You can tell me that beating you ‘made me’ or something to that effect, but I’d feel pretty comfortable saying that losing to me ‘unmade’ you.

Or something to that effect.

The point is, you really haven’t been the same since, and come War Games you were making some pretty bold promises about how the two of us weren’t done yet.

Because you know that you’ve got some repair work to do.

Don’t worry, Lou, it happens to everyone. No doubt it’ll happen to me too. Hell, it already did once, back at High Stakes. It won’t be happening against you though. While you were using my defeat of you to try and… what? Get under my skin? Weird choice, but okay! While you were doing that, I was telling you to your fucking face that my fall will NEVER be against you. You’ve had a few Left Hands in your life? Cool story, bro. I’ve had a fuck ton of yous. Each of them has tried to pull my strings, but you know how I get with puppets. They try to fit me into their box, but none of them have managed to do so. I’m a star-shapped peg shoving a spike into your wrinkly sweet round hole.

I don’t kneel.

I swing my wee pork sword and scream ‘off with their heads’!

And the heads, Lou… man, you should see how they roll.

Who’s the fucking king again?

Last time you got off your throne, it was more or less to ruin my day. That didn’t work. Instead, it fed my flames even more. But the argument then was that you were a test for me. Even though you were the challenger, that certainly wasn’t the conversation piece. I was the one with something to prove. To an exten, that was true even in my own mind. But just like last time, my mind’s an open book and I’m straight up inviting you to read it. When you do, you’ll see what it’s saying about our roles now.


I’m curious to know whether you see it. Whether you feel it. At this exact time, somewhere in another door or something, I’m going to be mentioning that you’re chasing me. And you are. I’m that bigger mountain that was rising while you were climbing yours at March Madness, and now? You’re starting your climb all over again.

You’re you though. Dumbest statement I’ve made - and that’s saying something! - but it’s true. You’re a heck of a climber!

I’m a heck of a mountain.

And your climb, it’s really just to right a perceived wrong. I’m still out here fighting for my very fucking survival. Universal Championship or not. There may only be a small line of difference there, but it’s important, because while I’ve been tarred with a whole lot of labels - and I’m sure there’ll be plenty more before I’m pushing daisies - there’s really only one that matters.

Survivor.

When I last slayed the king, the voices roared as though I had freed them all. They treated me like their hero.

But they were wrong.

I’m no hero. I’m no revolutionary. I’m just a man with a fucked up hand.

And an indomitable will.

I move forward.




~~~~~

Behind the door of gold
A flame that once burned bright.
I hear a ringing bell.
I see a shining light.

~~~~~







Or if you’re done exploring...

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Suck my dick!

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1B (Red): The Doctor





When the river runs red, the scales are balanced. A drop for a drop. An eye for an eye.


‘Tis a crimson moon, on the other side of the red door. Its grotesque shadow stretches across the nothing upon which I walk, and with it I know I am not alone. An evil lives here. Is it mine or yours?

“I hope you had your fun, playing dress-up as a king, and dress-down as a beast. It’s a pity that we didn’t get to see any more of it. Maybe you’ve got another version of yourself that you want to drop on me? You could go full Corey with it!

Jeez, and you said I was copying you?

But hey, we’ll always be able to look back fondly on that ONE match you had as a king. Or those TWO you had as a monster.

That’s not a dig, by the way. I know I’ve referenced it a few times now, but I want to clarify that I don’t actually think less of you for popping in and out like you do, not that you’d care if I did. Honestly, I completely believe that you don’t have to prove yourself week-by-week like say, Chris Page. He’s in the Hall of Legends yet is still desperately trying to prove the value of his legacy. That’s not you though.

You just need to prove yourself against me.

I guess with that in mind, while I’d have loved to have tangoed with your ugly side, I kind of understand why you’d be going back to ‘OG’ Lou. Go back to what worked. What helped you climb that March Madness mountain. Speaking of which, you know I never actually threw out any of that weak sauce about how you only won that tournament because I wasn’t in it? Or Corey wasn’t. Or even cunt-rag Thad wasn’t. Now I freely admit I could have gotten distracted by his fab jaw line, but to the best of my knowledge, Corey didn’t either. So where’d that shit at War Games even come from? Truth be told, man, aside from Kieran Overton, you probably had the hardest road to the finals of that tournament. I KNOW what you can do. You’ve been a presence here long before I *POOFED*...”

“HIYA, CAWK!”

“Wait… you’re not Cadryn. How’d you get in here?”

“Through the door, dummy.”

“Pretty sure I’m trying to get Cadryn to turn up in another door right now though.”

“Well I can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Seems like I can.”

“Yeah, but you’re a freak.

“Well that’s just unpleasant. Do you mind going back through that door?”

“Fine!”

*POOF!*

“Sorry. My mind’s a bit of a cluttered space sometimes. I think there’s even an anthropomorphic sea bass around here somewhere. Maybe ‘OG’ Lou can help me out with that? We’re going to need some use for the good doctor, because he sure as hell won’t be the Universal Champion.

He. Won’t.

Yes, I know what you’re capable of. Yes, I know what you can do. But by now… you know damn well what I can too.

Now, by stepping back into those El Classico shoes, that presence you’re so known for should really be re-established, right? I mean, those doors were a perfect example of that. You don’t even need to show up in order to affect the world around me.

But I’ve got a presence too, bud. An ‘aura’ that as you rightly pointed out was earned when I put you down. And that aura, that presence, it’s not about what happens when I’m not there. It’s about what happens when I am.

I fight.

I survive.

I EAT.

Despite the theatrics, I don’t pretend to be the scariest man in the world. But I prove a fucking point about who I am, every single time that I step into that ring.

Every. Single. Time.

Relentless will be no different. On the biggest stage the XWF can offer, I will fight; I will survive; I will EAT. You know what? Fuck that! I WILL FEAST. I thrive under pressure, Lou, because when you treat every day as if the stakes are the highest, then what’s another fight? It’s just what needs to be done.

You were right about something in the build up to War Games though, bud. This, between you and I, was never going to be settled after one. Shit, I could have told you that a few months back. It’s almost like I’ve deliberately hinted as much ever since. But hey… that’s then and this is now. Que séra, séra, and all that.

Blah blah blah Atara YOU blah blah blah.

Keep chasing me, baby-doll. Keep showing your fucking hand. I’ve read you since day fucking one, just like I read the boy. You must feel pretty proud of yourself, eh? Driving him away from his friends and bringing out his heart of darkness.

And confirming everything I’ve ever said about him.

You got what you wanted there. Or at least you’re very much on your way to it. But that’s where this story comes back around to me. Because you tend to get what you want.

Except when I’m involved.

You didn’t stop my climb. You didn’t drive a wedge between Corey and I. And come Relentless, the pattern repeats.

I fight.

I survive.

I slay the fucking king.

Rinse and repeat.

So be the old you. Be that looming threat. I'll do what I always do. I’ll overcome.

And there isn’t a god damn thing that you can do to stop me.”


~~~~~

Behind the door of red
Are remnants of the fight.
I hear a ringing bell.
I see a shining light.

~~~~~







Or if you’re done exploring...

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Please?

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1C: The White Door

“It’s an amusing situation, I suppose. I’ve spent so much energy trying to figure out who I am, and now… now I’m here thinking about who someone else is going to be.

That’s the natural order of things though, isn’t it?

There’s always a bigger fish.

Maybe it’s hubris, on my behalf. Probably. But haven’t I always had these extravagant thoughts? Isn’t that what we’re doing here as we recite our tales of gods and monsters, champions and kings? Am I doing this wrong?

No.

Because it brought me here.

One last door to step into.

Are you ready?”

I turn backwards to where a stroller sits. The child looks back at me with an innocent trust. I wonder… was I ever like that?

I unstrap her from her harness, and hoist her into my arms. Her still slightly oversized head flops a little to and fro before her muscles kick in and stabilise it. The beautiful colours that abound around us captivate her for a few seconds, but even faced with the majesty of the universe itself, her gaze soon settles once more upon my face. And then, with a haunting deliverance, she looks towards the white door.

Through it, a bright light shines upon a city of promise. Bells chime in celebration. They’re calling for me! I told you all that you’d see! The universe is rooting for me!

For me.

“One small step for man…”

And I step into tomorrow.

Que séra, séra.























































BANG!

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1D: XX_Progress Notes_210913

Patient Progress Notes
Date: 09/13/21	Therapist:	Facility:
Patient:	Age:	◻ Female ☑ Male
Session length: ______	☑ No Session: Patient unconscious.
Treatment Issue:
Symptoms observed during session:
◻ aggression (physical) ◻ aggression (verbal) ◻ agitation ◻ anger ◻ anhedonia ◻ anxiety/fear ◻ appetite disturbance ◻ danger to others ◻ danger to self ◻ decreased energy/fatigue ◻ delusions	◻ depressed ◻ distractibility ◻ emotional lability ◻ feelings of worthlessness ◻ hallucinations (auditory) ◻ hallucinations (visual) ◻ hopelessness/ helplessness ◻ impulsivity ◻ irritability ◻ negative statements	◻ noncompliance (medical care) ◻ restlessness ◻ sad/pained/ worried expression ◻ self deprecation ◻ sleep disturbance ◻ socially inappropriate ◻ social withdrawal ◻ suicidal ideation or plan ◻ thought disorder ◻ other: ◻ other:
Diagnoses: Undetermined
Intervention strategies implemented and session focus or theme: Re-assessment of functioning following therapeutic disruption.
Patient Response:	◻ Marked improvement ◻ Some improvement	☑ Same functioning ◻ Symptoms worsening
Evidence of patient response: Patient not yet conscious.
Future treatment/Follow-up: Assess upon awakening.
Signature of therapist/title: