Post by Rated R on Oct 31, 2012 12:55:43 GMT -5
“You clearly don’t know who you’re talking to so let me clue you in. I am not in danger… I am the danger… I am the one who knocks.”
- Walter White, Breaking Bad
< *** >
Trace Demon has always been fascinated by the game of chess, has been ever since he was a young boy and his grandfather taught him the intricacies of the game. He had never seen the relevancy in the game before his grandfather explained its elegance, but then again he was a five year old boy, he probably didn’t even know what relevancy and elegance even meant. He might have of course, but his brain has been addled over the years by so much alcohol and narcotics that he barely remembers anything outside of what he considers life defining moments. He doesn’t even know what his own first words were, if his mother ever told them to him in the first place. Regardless, back to the matter at hand, the big important topic that will help everything make sense.
Chess.
Now Trace has never cared about the history of the game, about the men that created it, about the best players in the world or the reasons that they play it. That is all history, and Trace’s feelings on history are that unless it directly effects the current moment then it is all pointless. He has always been focused on this present moment, on today, on the now. For him the most important day in the history of the world will always be the one that he lives in at whatever time the question is asked. So no, the history of the game has never been of much interest to him, but what it tells him… now that is another matter entirely.
His grandfather had once told him that you can learn a lot about a person by the way they play chess. Yes at first glance there is very little direct correlation between moving thirty two pieces around a black and white board and why you do whatever it is you do from day to day, but if you truly think about it, his grandfather told him, you could see the truth in their moves, in their gambits and their routines. It was all related and over time Trace began to understand. You see while there are many ways to play the game, there are very few types of players. Attacking, defensive, passive, reactive, adaptive and so on and so forth. His grandfather had told him that each of these was a valid way of playing, but that the best players were always attacking and adaptive. These players go on the attack from the moment the game begins, they hound the opposition and they play only for victory. When the opposition does something unexpected these players will always be able to adapt, they will always be able to turn it into something that they can use. But the most important thing is that they will never allow themselves to be put on the back foot.
His grandfather had a word for these types of players. He called them kings.
This is, in truth, where Trace Demon acquired the moniker that he would become synonymous with. It had never been about a belief in Satanism or that he thought himself as some kind of man reigning above demons as many believe, but because he sought to be one of these kings. He sought to live his life in the same way that they played the game, to always attack, to be able to adapt and most importantly to never let anyone else truly believe that they were capable of winning. That was how a true winner lived, how a true winner played and for the longest time he believed that he was one of these so called kings.
But now… now he has his doubts.
Because for the first time in his life he is starting to realize that he has never truly been one of these kings, he has never truly been attack orientated in anything he has done. Yes he has always been good in a fight, always had a talent for going to war, but he has never actually made the first move. He reacted, he let other people act first and then worked off of that. The only reason he got his iron-clad, money making contract in the first place was because he reacted to Xavier Pierce running the company into the ground, because he reacted to losing to Drakz and letting a nobody like Drake Elias have the title of number one contender. If he was truly a king he would never have let any of that happen in the first place, and once that dawned upon him he started to see everything in that same light.
He only got clean because it was either that or die a lonely old man, he only won Alexa back because she just so happened to come back into his life at an opportune moment, he only opened his wrestling school because Wayne had asked him to train Scarlett. It was all reactive, he was never taking the lead in any of it and it killed him, because it made him understand that every mess he had ever gotten into could have been avoided if he had just acted first. But here he was again with yet another mess on his hands. He had Xavier Pierce trying to screw him over, he had Yukio Blaze interrupting and attacking him, he had some nobody called Cameron Stone challenging for his title and worst of all he had Ari Teague, a relic of his drunken past, threatening to reveal their one time kiss to the only family he had.
If he had been the man he claimed to be then none of it would ever have happened. He should have taken care of Xavier Pierce the moment that he saw the cracks begin to form in the foundations of the WFWF. He should have put Yukio Blaze in a wheelchair three years ago when he had the chance and he should have ensured that Camerone Stone was out of the picture before he could have… wait, no, he couldn’t have done anything about that one, I mean he doesn’t even know who Cameron Stone is. But most importantly he should never have kissed Ari in that bar, he should never have been in that bar to begin with and he should never have even become an addict because with each of these events he failed to be the man he wanted to be, he became a nobody, a loser, a letdown.
And now he has problems, and he has but two choices. Become the king he has always claimed to be… or walk off into the darkness and never come back.
Your move.
< *** >
HOUSE OF HELL WRESTLING SCHOOL
25th OCTOBER 2012
Trace Demon: Now, can anyone tell me who this man is?
Trace holds up a photo to the near twenty five strong class of wrestling wannabe’s who he had somehow been roped into training that day. This was the biggest problem with running a wrestling school, dealing with so many undesirable vagrants who thought that they had the makings of a star when really all most of them had was a job at walmart on hold for them. Usually this was Wayne’s problem and Trace just handles the people that he actually doesn’t hate, namely Scarlett, but today Wayne was running late for whatever reason and he had to step in and save the day in the only way that he knows how.
By making it all about him.
Nearly every hand shoots up in the class, bewildering Trace. Is he truly the only person who has no clue who this guy is? He points to a stick thin teenager who probably considers himself the next Michael Kyzer. What with the lack of noticeable talents he’s more likely to be the next Yukio Blaze or Shawn Malakai.
Trace Demon: Yes, you, who is it?
Trainee: It’s Cameron Stone sir.
Stranger and stranger.
Trace Demon: How in the world do you know that?
Trainee: He works for the WFWF sir.
So people have been telling him, but Trace just couldn’t remember ever seeing or hearing about him. At first he thought he was new, apparently Pierce has this thing about giving people title matches when they’ve never wrestled a match before, but that had been shot down as quickly as his ‘is he a really famous guy under a mask’ guess. How was it that somebody so irrelevant could get a shot at a title despite having done nothing to earn it? Trace Demon was rightly baffled.
Trace Demon: Has he ever done anything of value, like something I should actually know about?
A few hands remain up, Trace pointing at the one who looked least likely to have an annoying voice. He was wrong of course, they all have annoying voices.
Trainee: He was the National Champion.
Trace Demon: I said of value, everybody and their mother have held that title by this point.
Except for a certain World Champion, but he probably doesn’t like being reminded of that one.
Wayne McGurk: Trace!
He hears the shout before he hears the door slam from across the gym. He turns to find Wayne, one of the very few men who consider themselves friends with the socially self-destructive Trace Demon, storming towards him. He doesn’t look best pleased.
Trace Demon: Ah good, Wayne, tell me, am I meant to know who this is?
Trace holds up the picture again and Wayne looks at it confused, the question so random that he is temporarily distracted from the entire reason that he came into the gym in such a determined state in the first place.
Wayne McGurk: What, Cameron Stone?
Trace shakes his head in disbelief.
Trace Demon: Am I the only one who has no idea who he is?
Wayne McGurk: You faced him in a tag match like last year.
Trace Demon: Really, did I win?
Wayne McGurk: Yeah, I’m pretty sure you did.
Trace Demon: Well that’s something I guess.
Wayne stares at him, unable to comprehend how a man who was smart enough to get himself a big time contract doesn’t even know about the man he’s supposed to be defending the International Championship against. He’s always known that Trace is self-centred, that he is a man who very rarely pays attention to anything outside of his own little bubble, but recently it’s gotten worse, he’s gotten worse. In the past few weeks, ever since he won that International Championship he’s seemed more disinterested than ever before, more arrogant, concerned only with his own life and showing little care for anything else.
Wayne McGurk: We need to talk.
Trace hates those four words. They never precede anything good. You never hear anybody say ‘we need to talk… you’ve just won a million dollars!’
Trace Demon: What, in front of these losers?
Trainee: Hey!
Trace Demon: Did I say you could speak?
The skinny guy lowers his head, if there is one person you don’t argue with its Trace Demon. He’s got a very short fuse.
Wayne McGurk: You’re office, now. All of you… do some laps or something.
Trace doesn’t bother to argue, mostly because it’s an excuse to get away from these people who think that just because they pay him means they get to take up his very valuable time. Well that and the fact that if he doesn’t follow Wayne then he’ll just become really annoying and won’t stop until he gets to say whatever it is he wants to say. This is one of the downsides to being sociable with other human beings; they all seem to think that they have a monopoly on his time.
As they walk into Trace’s office he pulls his phone out of his pocket to see that he’s gotten another three missed calls from Ari, almost certainly to do with how she is trying to ruin everything that is good in his life. B*****s be crazy like that.
Trace Demon: So what’s the problem this time?
Wayne McGurk: Phillip Schneider is my problem.
Trace Demon: What’s he done this time? Did he kill a hooker and leave her on your doorstep, because that seems like the next logical step for him.
Wayne McGurk: Do you even look at the cards, other than your own match?
Trace Demon: I glance at them, but usually I get half way through and find myself getting bored, so I end up watching funny videos on the internet instead.
Wayne looks like he’s about to explode and while that would probably be utterly hilarious there was always the chance that it could prove detrimental to their little business deal, and then Trace would have to either find someone else to deal with the classes, which would mean people new people, or that he’d have to take the classes himself. Neither of those sound particularly appealing to him.
Trace Demon: I’m guessing this is about Scarlett.
Wayne McGurk: Of course it’s about Scarlett; she isn’t ready to be getting into the ring with a guy like Phillip Schneider. He’s going to kill her; I mean you know what he’s like. He injured Alexis, and that was only because Meg broke it off with him. I mean what do you think he’s going to do to a girl that you’ve trained.
Trace Demon: Whoa, what’s this got to do with me?
Wayne McGurk: Well I’m going to guess that he hasn’t forgotten about all the times you’ve made fun of him. Oh, and then there was the time you beat him, probably not happy about that.
Trace Demon: I know, I just like hearing other people saying it.
Wayne McGurk: Has anybody ever told you you’re an arrogant ass?
Trace Demon: It’s been brought up in the past, yes.
The past being this morning, and the accuser being the person who served him coffee. Apparently there really is no good way to tell somebody that they’re wasting their life and that flirting with the coffee shop manager isn’t going to get them the raise they want.
Trace Demon: I don’t see how you’re not seeing the upside here.
Wayne McGurk: What upside could there possibly be to that psychopath beating on my daughter?
Trace Demon: Because it isn’t going to happen. Scarlett is being trained by the only man left on the roster who has beaten Schneider since he came back. I mean yes she’s young and slightly strange, but she’s got the talent to pull this off as long as she has the right game plan, and who better to come up with that game plan than me? If she listens to me, she’ll be fine. But here’s the long and the short of it though Wayne, you’ve got to accept that the girl is going to face off with some pretty unsavoury people in that ring, I mean this company is full of drug addicts, psychopaths and homeless people. It makes me miss that guy who was always wearing a giant chicken nugget costume.
Wayne slumps against the wall, trying to calm himself. Part of him knows that Trace is right, that if he reacts like this every time that Scarlett is in a match then he’ll just end up giving himself a stroke, but part of him is cursing himself for even letting Scarlett go through with this in the first place. He knows what this business does to people, why would he let his little girl get involved with that?
Trace Demon: Speaking of homeless people, I have something that will cheer you right up.
Wayne McGurk: I really don’t want to watch anymore videos of Yukio getting kicked in the nuts. I mean it was fun the first dozen times but now it’s just getting kind of weird.
Trace Demon: There will never be anything weird about watching a homeless man like Yukio Blaze getting kicked in the nuts alright? There’s a reason that it’s called a viral video, but that isn’t what I meant.
He picks up the DVD from the desk and walks over to the television in the corner of the room. He’d been using it to watch his opponent’s matches in glorious Technicolor, to scout the opposition. He probably should get around to doing the same with Cameron Stone, although that will also require him to actually find some matches that he’s been in while he’s at it, god he missed the days when he was facing actual threats.
Trace Demon: Just watch this.
He inserts the DVD and hits play, backing up and sitting on the edge of the desk. As the screen flickers to life he can’t help but grin as the video begins to play, showing what would appear to be a bedroom.
Wayne McGurk: This is ridiculous, what are we even…
He forgets what he’s saying when two people appear on the screen, one of them undoubtedly being Trace and the other a woman. Wayne recognises her but can’t put his finger on it to start with. Then she turns to where the camera is, it looks like she has no idea it’s even there, and he gets a good look at her face and it dawns on him.
Wayne McGurk: Is that…
Trace Demon: Yes.
Wayne McGurk: And are you…
Trace Demon: Oh yes.
Wayne McGurk: But she’s with…
Trace Demon: I know.
The video continues playing, Wayne finding it very difficult not to keep staring at the screen even if it felt completely weird. Then a bra is popped off and Wayne hits his limit for weirdness, grabbing the remote and stopping the DVD, the television going dark much to Trace’s disgust.
Trace Demon: What are you doing? It was about to get to the good stuff.
Wayne McGurk: I think watching that video would just end up making this friendship really awkward moving forwards. Why do you even have this? When did this even happen?
Trace Demon: Drunken night a few years ago, I just never got around to getting rid of it. Good thing too because now I get to use it.
Wayne McGurk: Use it?
Trace Demon: Yeah, I’m going to use it to destroy Yukio Blaze’s life. Pretty obvious when you think about it.
Wayne McGurk: You can’t be serious.
Trace wasn’t surprised with his reaction. Yes Wayne had always been capable of violence and he’d even made a few selfish decisions over the years in order to finally get that World Championship he’d missed out on his whole career, but he’d always had a line that he wouldn’t cross. Ever since Trace had known him Wayne had always had this line in the sand, a limit that he kept for his own inner peace. In the past Trace had heeded his words on matters like this, used Wayne as a sort of sounding board for matters of morality, but not anymore, he couldn’t afford to do so.
Trace Demon: Don’t start giving me the whole it isn’t the right thing to do speech Wayne, I’ve made my mind up on this, it’s the only option I have.
Wayne McGurk: Face him in the ring like a man, attack him and taunt him, hell, kneecap him with a baseball bat, that’s all fine with me, but this, this is going to destroy a family Trace, imagine if somebody did that to you, what would you do?
Trace Demon: I’d put them in the ground Wayne, because that is the type of man I am, but Yukio Blaze won’t have that opportunity. It’s been two weeks and I’m already tired of seeing his face, of being reminded of my failure, of the mistake I made three years ago when I didn’t wring his neck with that bullrope. But not anymore, from now on I make the first move, from now on I dictate the pace of the WFWF and if that means destroying a family to make sure that Yukio Blaze learns his place and pisses off then so be it. Men like Yukio are weak and reactive, me… I’m a mother f*****g king, and I do what has to be done.
Wayne McGurk: You’re losing it.
Trace shakes his head, grins just a little bit. He has this look in his eyes that doesn’t belong in the eyes of a normal man, the look of a man who is ready to truly tear everything down around him if it means that he is just one step ahead of everybody else.
Trace Demon: No I’m not Wayne, I’ve only just found it. I’ve only just found what I’ve been missing, no more waiting around for people to screw me over, from now on I’m in control of everything, you understand me?
He begins walking towards the office door, careful to eject the DVD and take it with him as he goes.
Wayne McGurk: And where exactly are you going now?
Trace Demon: I’ve got a match to prepare for, remember?
< *** >
KING’S BAR
25th OCTOBER 2012
There are some places that hold nothing but bad memories, that define themselves in your mind as nothing more than a place where something happened, where you did something that you regret. King’s bar was one of those places for Trace. He had promised himself that he would never come back here, that he was done with this place, and it was for that very reason that she wanted to meet him there. He hadn’t accepted the call out of defeat, out of a resignation to being unable to do something but the opposite, he needed to put an end to this and in his head there was only one way of doing so. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t the act of a nice or pure human being, but if he wanted to be in control then he knew he would have to do some things that he wasn’t proud of and when it comes down to it, isn’t that what’s important? Control, victory, respect, these are the only things that hold any truth anymore.
Ari Teague: I didn’t think you’d show.
Trace leans with his back against his car, looking at her with this hollow, hate filled gaze. He pushes the anger that builds in his gut down deep, knowing that if he is to achieve anything of substance here then he had to be in control of his emotions. He would achieve nothing if he lost his head here.
Trace Demon: You didn’t give me much choice.
Ari Teague: Shall we get a drink?
There’s a voice in the back of his head that suggests that it’s a good idea, that a drink will settle him but that too is pushed to the very recesses of his mind. He nearly lost everything the last time he relapsed – Alexa, Eliza, Emily, all of them. He wasn’t going to go through that again, not for a whore like Ari.
Trace Demon: No, I just want to get this over with.
She places a finger on his chest, slowly runs it down his body, attempting to act seductively. There was a time that it would have worked, but now all he feels is disgust, with her and with himself for ever thinking that she could be anything more than a passing fancy in a drug fuelled night.
Ari Teague: You make it sound so… sordid.
He bats her hand away, doesn’t care that she looks so offended. He turns and starts walking down the street, hands in his pockets, eyes looking down, hoping that she will take the bait. She does and starts to follow him, strangely attracted to whatever pheromones that he gives off that makes him so attractive to women.
Trace Demon: Here’s the deal. You don’t tell anyone about us, ever, and I leave you alone.
It’s blunt but in his mind it’s a lot more important than a simple demand. It’s a final offer, a final chance for her to back away without any more questions. It’s an offer that she doesn’t take.
Ari Teague: That doesn’t sound like a good deal to me.
Trace Demon: It’s the only one that you’re going to get, I suggest you take it.
Ari Teague: I’ve got a counter offer.
She stops, attempting to dictate the pace, attempting to take his control away from him. He won’t let that happen, he refuses to stand by, to wait and see where she is going with this. He won’t be that man anymore, he’s done with all of this reactive bulls**t.
Ari Teague: How about…
She doesn’t get the opportunity to finish the sentence, Trace grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her unceremoniously into an alleyway down the side of King’s bar. If it was later in the night then this place would probably be filled with drunkards hoping to score a hit from whatever dealer was in the neighbourhood that night, but that was later, right now it was empty. Perfect.
Ari Teague: Oh, I didn’t realize you still had a thing for grimy places like this.
Trace Demon: Will you shut up?
He wraps a hand around her throat and pushes her against the wall. Her expression changes in a instance. No longer does it feel like he is standing in front of a sexy, confident but crazy woman but a scared little girl who is just now starting to understand that she is in out of her depth. It worries him a little bit, not that he could do this to somebody but that he could do it with so little remorse. When he was in the ring he didn’t have the time to think, he didn’t have the time to concern himself with trivialities such as compassion because everyone else was trying to hurt him just like he was trying to hurt them. Ari is just a stupid girl who doesn’t understand that if she had tries this a week earlier she would have got away with it.
Trace Demon: Here’s the thing Ari, a few years back and you’d have probably gotten a bit further with this. I’d of waited around, assumed that you’d tire and go away, and then when I felt like there was no other option I’d have done something… let’s just say less that desirable. But I’ve gotten bored of that entire routine, and I’ve gotten bored of you, so I’m going to put an end to this before anything really happens, understand?
She tries to say something, maybe to beg him to let go or to make another wiseass remark that would just antagonise him ever more, but the grip that he has around her throat is putting pressure down on her windpipe, stopping her getting any words out or any air in.
Trace Demon: Good. So here’s what’s going to happen.
He slips his hand into the pocket of her jeans, pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through it. He finds his number in her phonebook, any messages or calls or photos she has kept of him for whatever reason and deletes them, just erasing himself from her life as if he never existed in the first place. It’s a gratifying feeling, better than anything he has ever felt before. The rush of adrenaline caused by knowing that you have won the game long before your opponent had any clue that you had actually started playing.
Trace Demon: I’m going to go back home and be with my family and you… you’re going to go back to whatever gutter call home nowadays. We’re both just going to forget about this little meeting, about all these migraine inducing phone calls you’ve been making this past week and we’re just going to get on with our lives. Otherwise… well, you remember that trucker from a few years back, the one with the beard and syringe marks up and down his arm, the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer? Well if you don’t leave me and my family alone, I’m going to make what I did to him look like a day at Disneyland compared to what happens to you.
There is no need for him to consider whether that is an empty threat, because the threat alone is enough to put the fear in her eyes. And that look, that crippling fear induced only by his words, makes him feel like a winner, like the king that he needs to be. She nods, a tear rolling down her cheek. He releases his hand from her throat and she desperately gasps for air.
Trace Demon: You know the scary thing about all this? I’m not drunk or stoned; I’m very much in my right mind, maybe even clearer than I’ve ever been. That’s worrying right, that maybe now I’m thinking straight that I’m actually more deranged than ever before? What is it they say; it’s only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy?
She doesn’t answer, he’s taken the fight right out of here.
Trace Demon: Sorry, I sometimes like to get a little melodramatic. Meant what I said though, if I see you again, well, bad things will happen and all that jazz.
He turns his back on her for what he correctly assumes to be the final time. After this she’ll go into the bar and get drunk, find herself another man. He’ll be respectable, not the sort you expect to find in a bar like King’s. Then again that’s because he’s married and just looking for a good time. She’ll find out but won’t care, not until it’s too late, not until his wife starts getting suspicious and he takes the drastic steps of making sure she isn’t around to cause any trouble. But that’s a story for another day, for another person entirely. Right now there are other matters to attend to.
Right now Trace Demon needs to make a phone call.
< *** >
CAR INTERIOR
25th OCTOBER 2012
He listens to the dial tone as he drives back home, a calm sense of acceptance running through his body. He’d taken the lead now, ignited something within himself that there was no backing away from. Ari Teague was one problem that he had taken care of with relative ease, but another far greater problem still hung above him and the WFWF like a disease, a disease that needed to be cut out before it could spread any further. And if he was going to do that then he’d need help. Gone are the days when he will wait for some other man to come along and start the war, gone are the days when he would insert himself into somebody else’s great scheme to bring down the man in charge. This was his time now.
EBR: Hello?
The voice echoes out through the hands free set in his car, a voice that Trace Demon had never expected to hear again, especially not in such circumstances, but he had made the call for a reason.
Trace Demon: E, it’s Trace.
EBR: Oh ... can I ask how you got this number?
Trace Demon: You can get just about anything when you know the right people.
Actually all he had to do was call in a favour from Xavier Pierce’s secretary. As it turned out she was quite the fan of trying it on with married men and he knew how to hold that kind of information over a person.
EBR: That’s shrewd ...anywhoo, I’m a little busy so I’ll have to call you back ... and stuff ...
He wasn’t surprised by his reluctance to talk to him. It wasn’t like they’d ever gotten along. They’d fought each other one on one once before, a match that EBR won, and then there was the whole time he tore down Trace’s administration with The Anointed. So yeah, they weren’t exactly friends, but this wasn’t about friendship.
Trace Demon: Don’t hang up, just give me a minute, I’ve got an offer for you.
EBR: This won’t be awkward.
Trace Demon: Look, I known that you want Xavier Pierce gone.
EBR: Pierce? What? Nah, we good.
There’s a hesitative pause that tells Trace Demon more than EBR’s words ever could.
EBR: Wooord.
Trace Demon: Right, whatever you say. Look, I want to make you an offer, you help me and I help you and we get rid of Xavier Pierce for good, before he can take the entire company down with us in it.
A brief silence as the man who Trace once considered a legend considers the offer. He’d have much preferred to have offered this role to Wayne, Vanessa or hell, even to Thunder if he hadn’t become such a whimpering failure, but none of them has what it takes to do what needs to be done. EBR is the only one Trace considers capable.
EBR: Yeah I’m not gonna be doing that, but hey I appreciate you asking me. Good looking out.
Trace Demon: I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself here E, to get rid of the pathetic clown who thinks he runs the place.
EBR: Hrm. That doesn’t really interest me at all but hey, good luck with ... that ... and uh ... ah man I think my phone is breaking up ...
Muffled noises which are clearly EBR just cupping his mouth follow before the phone beeps and hangs up. Trace simply smirks, he should be mad, should be pissed off, but he isn’t because now he has his answer, his plan, and all he needed was a hesitative pause. Because whether EBR has accepted it or not, he has him onside.
< *** >
I’m usually pretty good at these. Big speeches where I explain why I’m going to win, how I’m going to hurt you and tear the flesh from your bones and all of that macabre stuff. You know the drill by now, it’s all the same, but that’s the problem, isn’t it? That’s been my problem for years. I’m the same, the same man that I was one, two, even three years ago. I dance around to the beat of my own drum, don’t take crap, make a mess and hurt a few people. That’s all I’ve been doing, and that’s a problem, because it isn’t enough. It’s not enough for me. Because you see the one thing that I have been claiming to be, a king, it was all a lie, it’s been a lie for so damn long now that I just stopped paying attention to it. But I can’t do that anymore, because now I’m seeing things through clear eyes and I don’t like what I see. I look in the mirror and I see the International Champion and I realize that I should be happy, but I’m not.
So why am I not happy? That’s the logical question, right? But I don’t have a logical answer for you, because unless you’re up in my head you wouldn’t understand. Unless you’ve lived my life you wouldn’t be able to grasp the intricacies behind it, and that’s fine, you don’t have to understand, it doesn’t matter whether you know what I feel or not. All that matters is that I feel it, all that matters is that day after day, month after month, year after year I feel it and I know it’s there and it eats away at me. It tears me apart. You see I stopped doubting myself recently, but as it turned out that doubt was well placed, it was just directed at the wrong thing. Because while I’ve been in this business six years now I’ve never really been in control, I’ve never just gone for it.
I’ve always been there, sat at the back, watching, waiting, seeing what happens and then making my move. But that doesn’t work for me anymore, that isn’t who I want to be. Nobody respects the man who waits, they respect the man who just simply does it. And that’s the man I need to be, I need to stop waiting and letting people act and then reacting to it, I need to stop waiting for other people to begin wars and then jumping in at the most opportune moment because by the end of it all while people might remember me for being a part of it all, they’ll never remember be as an instigator, and that just p****s me off. If I want to be remember, I need to stop being reactive, and start being a king. I already know I can adapt to whatever people throw at me, so what’s been stopping me just starting the fire instead of watching it, what stopped me from going out and crippling Yukio Blaze the moment I heard he was coming back instead of waiting for him to come out and interrupt me and then catching him off guard? I didn’t plan that, I was just prepared and that isn’t good enough anymore! It’s not!
Because preparation is not victory in itself, but the precursor for those willing to make the first move. And I am now willing, I am now willing to bring the fight to each and every one of you. Drakz, Kyzer, David Brennan, Yukio Blaze, Phillip Schneider, Shawn Malakai, Cameron Stone, Raider, Cam Nitta, any single f*****g person who thinks that they are going to get in my way are going to learn a very crude lesson in pre-emptive action. Because from now on I am not going to wait for anybody to become a problem, I am going to eliminate the issue before it arises. Because I’m thinking forwards to a grand scheme indeed, a masterpiece of chaos and I can’t have anybody causing a hitch in that, I can’t have one of you popping up and de-railing me. So that’s the way this is going from now on.
Yukio Blaze, you have become a recurring nightmare in my psyche and I don’t like that. You are the most clear cut example of how my failures have come back to haunt me. Three years ago we had our problems and when it came time to settle them I failed, I couldn’t do it and then you left and I never got the chance. And then you came back and I… I ignored you, can you believe that? That woke me up Yukio so thank you for that and because you helped me achieve this enlightenment I am going to give you a gift this week on Revolution. So before I beat this Cameron Stone guy, I’m going to ask you to join me in the ring and I am going to give you your gift and I have this feeling, no, I’m damn sure that you will appreciate it because I’ve put a lot of thought into it. But Yukio, and I don’t have any hard feelings about this, but you are not allowed to be my sole focus this week. No, you don’t get to take up all of my energy.
Because there’s this man, this man called Cameron Stone. Now Cameron, I don’t know exactly how you managed it, how you somehow got under Xavier Pierce’s skin to such a degree that he granted you a shot at my title, but let me just say that I am impressed. I am impressed at your stupidity. Because let’s face it Stone, you’re a f*****g nobody. You don’t belong in that ring with me, I don’t think you even belong in this company, but here you are and you’ve just been given a match against Trace Demon and for some reason you accepted, you didn’t run away and hide? Rookie mistake kid, rookie mistake. Because right now, in this very moment in time, I have to make an example out of somebody and while I would like it to be somebody who actually matters to… well, matters to anybody, I’ll take what I can get.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking past you, I can’t afford to do that. So I’m training the same way I always do, I’m preparing for this with the same focus, now that I actually know that you’re an actual wrestler and not another rookie making his debut. I’m coming at you with the same mind-set that I did when I beat Drakz, when I beat Hutton Brown, when I beat the World Heavyweight Champion. Because I am no longer taking risks, because I am not going to let you survive just to come back in a few months or a few years and become a pain in my ass, that’s not happening anymore. So either two things can happen, I either beat you so bad that you never want to step in the ring with me again, or I beat you so bad that you’re never physically capable of stepping in the ring again full stop.
I see what this really is Stone, and I’m sure you even with your double digit IQ see it as well. This is Xavier Pierce’s answer, this is his return move to what I’ve brought so far. He thinks of himself as quite the tactician, as quite the player, and that’s fine, let him think what he wants, let him move his pawns around the board however he wants, because by the end of it all, when you all finally see what it is I am doing… then you’ll all be hearing the exact same thing. You’ll all be hearing me say the same words to Xavier Piece, to Cameron Stone, to Yukio Blaze and to anybody else who thinks they can play my game. And when those words drift through your ears, it will be the moment before I cut them off simply because I can.
Checkmate.
- Walter White, Breaking Bad
< *** >
Trace Demon has always been fascinated by the game of chess, has been ever since he was a young boy and his grandfather taught him the intricacies of the game. He had never seen the relevancy in the game before his grandfather explained its elegance, but then again he was a five year old boy, he probably didn’t even know what relevancy and elegance even meant. He might have of course, but his brain has been addled over the years by so much alcohol and narcotics that he barely remembers anything outside of what he considers life defining moments. He doesn’t even know what his own first words were, if his mother ever told them to him in the first place. Regardless, back to the matter at hand, the big important topic that will help everything make sense.
Chess.
Now Trace has never cared about the history of the game, about the men that created it, about the best players in the world or the reasons that they play it. That is all history, and Trace’s feelings on history are that unless it directly effects the current moment then it is all pointless. He has always been focused on this present moment, on today, on the now. For him the most important day in the history of the world will always be the one that he lives in at whatever time the question is asked. So no, the history of the game has never been of much interest to him, but what it tells him… now that is another matter entirely.
His grandfather had once told him that you can learn a lot about a person by the way they play chess. Yes at first glance there is very little direct correlation between moving thirty two pieces around a black and white board and why you do whatever it is you do from day to day, but if you truly think about it, his grandfather told him, you could see the truth in their moves, in their gambits and their routines. It was all related and over time Trace began to understand. You see while there are many ways to play the game, there are very few types of players. Attacking, defensive, passive, reactive, adaptive and so on and so forth. His grandfather had told him that each of these was a valid way of playing, but that the best players were always attacking and adaptive. These players go on the attack from the moment the game begins, they hound the opposition and they play only for victory. When the opposition does something unexpected these players will always be able to adapt, they will always be able to turn it into something that they can use. But the most important thing is that they will never allow themselves to be put on the back foot.
His grandfather had a word for these types of players. He called them kings.
This is, in truth, where Trace Demon acquired the moniker that he would become synonymous with. It had never been about a belief in Satanism or that he thought himself as some kind of man reigning above demons as many believe, but because he sought to be one of these kings. He sought to live his life in the same way that they played the game, to always attack, to be able to adapt and most importantly to never let anyone else truly believe that they were capable of winning. That was how a true winner lived, how a true winner played and for the longest time he believed that he was one of these so called kings.
But now… now he has his doubts.
Because for the first time in his life he is starting to realize that he has never truly been one of these kings, he has never truly been attack orientated in anything he has done. Yes he has always been good in a fight, always had a talent for going to war, but he has never actually made the first move. He reacted, he let other people act first and then worked off of that. The only reason he got his iron-clad, money making contract in the first place was because he reacted to Xavier Pierce running the company into the ground, because he reacted to losing to Drakz and letting a nobody like Drake Elias have the title of number one contender. If he was truly a king he would never have let any of that happen in the first place, and once that dawned upon him he started to see everything in that same light.
He only got clean because it was either that or die a lonely old man, he only won Alexa back because she just so happened to come back into his life at an opportune moment, he only opened his wrestling school because Wayne had asked him to train Scarlett. It was all reactive, he was never taking the lead in any of it and it killed him, because it made him understand that every mess he had ever gotten into could have been avoided if he had just acted first. But here he was again with yet another mess on his hands. He had Xavier Pierce trying to screw him over, he had Yukio Blaze interrupting and attacking him, he had some nobody called Cameron Stone challenging for his title and worst of all he had Ari Teague, a relic of his drunken past, threatening to reveal their one time kiss to the only family he had.
If he had been the man he claimed to be then none of it would ever have happened. He should have taken care of Xavier Pierce the moment that he saw the cracks begin to form in the foundations of the WFWF. He should have put Yukio Blaze in a wheelchair three years ago when he had the chance and he should have ensured that Camerone Stone was out of the picture before he could have… wait, no, he couldn’t have done anything about that one, I mean he doesn’t even know who Cameron Stone is. But most importantly he should never have kissed Ari in that bar, he should never have been in that bar to begin with and he should never have even become an addict because with each of these events he failed to be the man he wanted to be, he became a nobody, a loser, a letdown.
And now he has problems, and he has but two choices. Become the king he has always claimed to be… or walk off into the darkness and never come back.
Your move.
< *** >
HOUSE OF HELL WRESTLING SCHOOL
25th OCTOBER 2012
Trace Demon: Now, can anyone tell me who this man is?
Trace holds up a photo to the near twenty five strong class of wrestling wannabe’s who he had somehow been roped into training that day. This was the biggest problem with running a wrestling school, dealing with so many undesirable vagrants who thought that they had the makings of a star when really all most of them had was a job at walmart on hold for them. Usually this was Wayne’s problem and Trace just handles the people that he actually doesn’t hate, namely Scarlett, but today Wayne was running late for whatever reason and he had to step in and save the day in the only way that he knows how.
By making it all about him.
Nearly every hand shoots up in the class, bewildering Trace. Is he truly the only person who has no clue who this guy is? He points to a stick thin teenager who probably considers himself the next Michael Kyzer. What with the lack of noticeable talents he’s more likely to be the next Yukio Blaze or Shawn Malakai.
Trace Demon: Yes, you, who is it?
Trainee: It’s Cameron Stone sir.
Stranger and stranger.
Trace Demon: How in the world do you know that?
Trainee: He works for the WFWF sir.
So people have been telling him, but Trace just couldn’t remember ever seeing or hearing about him. At first he thought he was new, apparently Pierce has this thing about giving people title matches when they’ve never wrestled a match before, but that had been shot down as quickly as his ‘is he a really famous guy under a mask’ guess. How was it that somebody so irrelevant could get a shot at a title despite having done nothing to earn it? Trace Demon was rightly baffled.
Trace Demon: Has he ever done anything of value, like something I should actually know about?
A few hands remain up, Trace pointing at the one who looked least likely to have an annoying voice. He was wrong of course, they all have annoying voices.
Trainee: He was the National Champion.
Trace Demon: I said of value, everybody and their mother have held that title by this point.
Except for a certain World Champion, but he probably doesn’t like being reminded of that one.
Wayne McGurk: Trace!
He hears the shout before he hears the door slam from across the gym. He turns to find Wayne, one of the very few men who consider themselves friends with the socially self-destructive Trace Demon, storming towards him. He doesn’t look best pleased.
Trace Demon: Ah good, Wayne, tell me, am I meant to know who this is?
Trace holds up the picture again and Wayne looks at it confused, the question so random that he is temporarily distracted from the entire reason that he came into the gym in such a determined state in the first place.
Wayne McGurk: What, Cameron Stone?
Trace shakes his head in disbelief.
Trace Demon: Am I the only one who has no idea who he is?
Wayne McGurk: You faced him in a tag match like last year.
Trace Demon: Really, did I win?
Wayne McGurk: Yeah, I’m pretty sure you did.
Trace Demon: Well that’s something I guess.
Wayne stares at him, unable to comprehend how a man who was smart enough to get himself a big time contract doesn’t even know about the man he’s supposed to be defending the International Championship against. He’s always known that Trace is self-centred, that he is a man who very rarely pays attention to anything outside of his own little bubble, but recently it’s gotten worse, he’s gotten worse. In the past few weeks, ever since he won that International Championship he’s seemed more disinterested than ever before, more arrogant, concerned only with his own life and showing little care for anything else.
Wayne McGurk: We need to talk.
Trace hates those four words. They never precede anything good. You never hear anybody say ‘we need to talk… you’ve just won a million dollars!’
Trace Demon: What, in front of these losers?
Trainee: Hey!
Trace Demon: Did I say you could speak?
The skinny guy lowers his head, if there is one person you don’t argue with its Trace Demon. He’s got a very short fuse.
Wayne McGurk: You’re office, now. All of you… do some laps or something.
Trace doesn’t bother to argue, mostly because it’s an excuse to get away from these people who think that just because they pay him means they get to take up his very valuable time. Well that and the fact that if he doesn’t follow Wayne then he’ll just become really annoying and won’t stop until he gets to say whatever it is he wants to say. This is one of the downsides to being sociable with other human beings; they all seem to think that they have a monopoly on his time.
As they walk into Trace’s office he pulls his phone out of his pocket to see that he’s gotten another three missed calls from Ari, almost certainly to do with how she is trying to ruin everything that is good in his life. B*****s be crazy like that.
Trace Demon: So what’s the problem this time?
Wayne McGurk: Phillip Schneider is my problem.
Trace Demon: What’s he done this time? Did he kill a hooker and leave her on your doorstep, because that seems like the next logical step for him.
Wayne McGurk: Do you even look at the cards, other than your own match?
Trace Demon: I glance at them, but usually I get half way through and find myself getting bored, so I end up watching funny videos on the internet instead.
Wayne looks like he’s about to explode and while that would probably be utterly hilarious there was always the chance that it could prove detrimental to their little business deal, and then Trace would have to either find someone else to deal with the classes, which would mean people new people, or that he’d have to take the classes himself. Neither of those sound particularly appealing to him.
Trace Demon: I’m guessing this is about Scarlett.
Wayne McGurk: Of course it’s about Scarlett; she isn’t ready to be getting into the ring with a guy like Phillip Schneider. He’s going to kill her; I mean you know what he’s like. He injured Alexis, and that was only because Meg broke it off with him. I mean what do you think he’s going to do to a girl that you’ve trained.
Trace Demon: Whoa, what’s this got to do with me?
Wayne McGurk: Well I’m going to guess that he hasn’t forgotten about all the times you’ve made fun of him. Oh, and then there was the time you beat him, probably not happy about that.
Trace Demon: I know, I just like hearing other people saying it.
Wayne McGurk: Has anybody ever told you you’re an arrogant ass?
Trace Demon: It’s been brought up in the past, yes.
The past being this morning, and the accuser being the person who served him coffee. Apparently there really is no good way to tell somebody that they’re wasting their life and that flirting with the coffee shop manager isn’t going to get them the raise they want.
Trace Demon: I don’t see how you’re not seeing the upside here.
Wayne McGurk: What upside could there possibly be to that psychopath beating on my daughter?
Trace Demon: Because it isn’t going to happen. Scarlett is being trained by the only man left on the roster who has beaten Schneider since he came back. I mean yes she’s young and slightly strange, but she’s got the talent to pull this off as long as she has the right game plan, and who better to come up with that game plan than me? If she listens to me, she’ll be fine. But here’s the long and the short of it though Wayne, you’ve got to accept that the girl is going to face off with some pretty unsavoury people in that ring, I mean this company is full of drug addicts, psychopaths and homeless people. It makes me miss that guy who was always wearing a giant chicken nugget costume.
Wayne slumps against the wall, trying to calm himself. Part of him knows that Trace is right, that if he reacts like this every time that Scarlett is in a match then he’ll just end up giving himself a stroke, but part of him is cursing himself for even letting Scarlett go through with this in the first place. He knows what this business does to people, why would he let his little girl get involved with that?
Trace Demon: Speaking of homeless people, I have something that will cheer you right up.
Wayne McGurk: I really don’t want to watch anymore videos of Yukio getting kicked in the nuts. I mean it was fun the first dozen times but now it’s just getting kind of weird.
Trace Demon: There will never be anything weird about watching a homeless man like Yukio Blaze getting kicked in the nuts alright? There’s a reason that it’s called a viral video, but that isn’t what I meant.
He picks up the DVD from the desk and walks over to the television in the corner of the room. He’d been using it to watch his opponent’s matches in glorious Technicolor, to scout the opposition. He probably should get around to doing the same with Cameron Stone, although that will also require him to actually find some matches that he’s been in while he’s at it, god he missed the days when he was facing actual threats.
Trace Demon: Just watch this.
He inserts the DVD and hits play, backing up and sitting on the edge of the desk. As the screen flickers to life he can’t help but grin as the video begins to play, showing what would appear to be a bedroom.
Wayne McGurk: This is ridiculous, what are we even…
He forgets what he’s saying when two people appear on the screen, one of them undoubtedly being Trace and the other a woman. Wayne recognises her but can’t put his finger on it to start with. Then she turns to where the camera is, it looks like she has no idea it’s even there, and he gets a good look at her face and it dawns on him.
Wayne McGurk: Is that…
Trace Demon: Yes.
Wayne McGurk: And are you…
Trace Demon: Oh yes.
Wayne McGurk: But she’s with…
Trace Demon: I know.
The video continues playing, Wayne finding it very difficult not to keep staring at the screen even if it felt completely weird. Then a bra is popped off and Wayne hits his limit for weirdness, grabbing the remote and stopping the DVD, the television going dark much to Trace’s disgust.
Trace Demon: What are you doing? It was about to get to the good stuff.
Wayne McGurk: I think watching that video would just end up making this friendship really awkward moving forwards. Why do you even have this? When did this even happen?
Trace Demon: Drunken night a few years ago, I just never got around to getting rid of it. Good thing too because now I get to use it.
Wayne McGurk: Use it?
Trace Demon: Yeah, I’m going to use it to destroy Yukio Blaze’s life. Pretty obvious when you think about it.
Wayne McGurk: You can’t be serious.
Trace wasn’t surprised with his reaction. Yes Wayne had always been capable of violence and he’d even made a few selfish decisions over the years in order to finally get that World Championship he’d missed out on his whole career, but he’d always had a line that he wouldn’t cross. Ever since Trace had known him Wayne had always had this line in the sand, a limit that he kept for his own inner peace. In the past Trace had heeded his words on matters like this, used Wayne as a sort of sounding board for matters of morality, but not anymore, he couldn’t afford to do so.
Trace Demon: Don’t start giving me the whole it isn’t the right thing to do speech Wayne, I’ve made my mind up on this, it’s the only option I have.
Wayne McGurk: Face him in the ring like a man, attack him and taunt him, hell, kneecap him with a baseball bat, that’s all fine with me, but this, this is going to destroy a family Trace, imagine if somebody did that to you, what would you do?
Trace Demon: I’d put them in the ground Wayne, because that is the type of man I am, but Yukio Blaze won’t have that opportunity. It’s been two weeks and I’m already tired of seeing his face, of being reminded of my failure, of the mistake I made three years ago when I didn’t wring his neck with that bullrope. But not anymore, from now on I make the first move, from now on I dictate the pace of the WFWF and if that means destroying a family to make sure that Yukio Blaze learns his place and pisses off then so be it. Men like Yukio are weak and reactive, me… I’m a mother f*****g king, and I do what has to be done.
Wayne McGurk: You’re losing it.
Trace shakes his head, grins just a little bit. He has this look in his eyes that doesn’t belong in the eyes of a normal man, the look of a man who is ready to truly tear everything down around him if it means that he is just one step ahead of everybody else.
Trace Demon: No I’m not Wayne, I’ve only just found it. I’ve only just found what I’ve been missing, no more waiting around for people to screw me over, from now on I’m in control of everything, you understand me?
He begins walking towards the office door, careful to eject the DVD and take it with him as he goes.
Wayne McGurk: And where exactly are you going now?
Trace Demon: I’ve got a match to prepare for, remember?
< *** >
KING’S BAR
25th OCTOBER 2012
There are some places that hold nothing but bad memories, that define themselves in your mind as nothing more than a place where something happened, where you did something that you regret. King’s bar was one of those places for Trace. He had promised himself that he would never come back here, that he was done with this place, and it was for that very reason that she wanted to meet him there. He hadn’t accepted the call out of defeat, out of a resignation to being unable to do something but the opposite, he needed to put an end to this and in his head there was only one way of doing so. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t the act of a nice or pure human being, but if he wanted to be in control then he knew he would have to do some things that he wasn’t proud of and when it comes down to it, isn’t that what’s important? Control, victory, respect, these are the only things that hold any truth anymore.
Ari Teague: I didn’t think you’d show.
Trace leans with his back against his car, looking at her with this hollow, hate filled gaze. He pushes the anger that builds in his gut down deep, knowing that if he is to achieve anything of substance here then he had to be in control of his emotions. He would achieve nothing if he lost his head here.
Trace Demon: You didn’t give me much choice.
Ari Teague: Shall we get a drink?
There’s a voice in the back of his head that suggests that it’s a good idea, that a drink will settle him but that too is pushed to the very recesses of his mind. He nearly lost everything the last time he relapsed – Alexa, Eliza, Emily, all of them. He wasn’t going to go through that again, not for a whore like Ari.
Trace Demon: No, I just want to get this over with.
She places a finger on his chest, slowly runs it down his body, attempting to act seductively. There was a time that it would have worked, but now all he feels is disgust, with her and with himself for ever thinking that she could be anything more than a passing fancy in a drug fuelled night.
Ari Teague: You make it sound so… sordid.
He bats her hand away, doesn’t care that she looks so offended. He turns and starts walking down the street, hands in his pockets, eyes looking down, hoping that she will take the bait. She does and starts to follow him, strangely attracted to whatever pheromones that he gives off that makes him so attractive to women.
Trace Demon: Here’s the deal. You don’t tell anyone about us, ever, and I leave you alone.
It’s blunt but in his mind it’s a lot more important than a simple demand. It’s a final offer, a final chance for her to back away without any more questions. It’s an offer that she doesn’t take.
Ari Teague: That doesn’t sound like a good deal to me.
Trace Demon: It’s the only one that you’re going to get, I suggest you take it.
Ari Teague: I’ve got a counter offer.
She stops, attempting to dictate the pace, attempting to take his control away from him. He won’t let that happen, he refuses to stand by, to wait and see where she is going with this. He won’t be that man anymore, he’s done with all of this reactive bulls**t.
Ari Teague: How about…
She doesn’t get the opportunity to finish the sentence, Trace grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her unceremoniously into an alleyway down the side of King’s bar. If it was later in the night then this place would probably be filled with drunkards hoping to score a hit from whatever dealer was in the neighbourhood that night, but that was later, right now it was empty. Perfect.
Ari Teague: Oh, I didn’t realize you still had a thing for grimy places like this.
Trace Demon: Will you shut up?
He wraps a hand around her throat and pushes her against the wall. Her expression changes in a instance. No longer does it feel like he is standing in front of a sexy, confident but crazy woman but a scared little girl who is just now starting to understand that she is in out of her depth. It worries him a little bit, not that he could do this to somebody but that he could do it with so little remorse. When he was in the ring he didn’t have the time to think, he didn’t have the time to concern himself with trivialities such as compassion because everyone else was trying to hurt him just like he was trying to hurt them. Ari is just a stupid girl who doesn’t understand that if she had tries this a week earlier she would have got away with it.
Trace Demon: Here’s the thing Ari, a few years back and you’d have probably gotten a bit further with this. I’d of waited around, assumed that you’d tire and go away, and then when I felt like there was no other option I’d have done something… let’s just say less that desirable. But I’ve gotten bored of that entire routine, and I’ve gotten bored of you, so I’m going to put an end to this before anything really happens, understand?
She tries to say something, maybe to beg him to let go or to make another wiseass remark that would just antagonise him ever more, but the grip that he has around her throat is putting pressure down on her windpipe, stopping her getting any words out or any air in.
Trace Demon: Good. So here’s what’s going to happen.
He slips his hand into the pocket of her jeans, pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through it. He finds his number in her phonebook, any messages or calls or photos she has kept of him for whatever reason and deletes them, just erasing himself from her life as if he never existed in the first place. It’s a gratifying feeling, better than anything he has ever felt before. The rush of adrenaline caused by knowing that you have won the game long before your opponent had any clue that you had actually started playing.
Trace Demon: I’m going to go back home and be with my family and you… you’re going to go back to whatever gutter call home nowadays. We’re both just going to forget about this little meeting, about all these migraine inducing phone calls you’ve been making this past week and we’re just going to get on with our lives. Otherwise… well, you remember that trucker from a few years back, the one with the beard and syringe marks up and down his arm, the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer? Well if you don’t leave me and my family alone, I’m going to make what I did to him look like a day at Disneyland compared to what happens to you.
There is no need for him to consider whether that is an empty threat, because the threat alone is enough to put the fear in her eyes. And that look, that crippling fear induced only by his words, makes him feel like a winner, like the king that he needs to be. She nods, a tear rolling down her cheek. He releases his hand from her throat and she desperately gasps for air.
Trace Demon: You know the scary thing about all this? I’m not drunk or stoned; I’m very much in my right mind, maybe even clearer than I’ve ever been. That’s worrying right, that maybe now I’m thinking straight that I’m actually more deranged than ever before? What is it they say; it’s only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy?
She doesn’t answer, he’s taken the fight right out of here.
Trace Demon: Sorry, I sometimes like to get a little melodramatic. Meant what I said though, if I see you again, well, bad things will happen and all that jazz.
He turns his back on her for what he correctly assumes to be the final time. After this she’ll go into the bar and get drunk, find herself another man. He’ll be respectable, not the sort you expect to find in a bar like King’s. Then again that’s because he’s married and just looking for a good time. She’ll find out but won’t care, not until it’s too late, not until his wife starts getting suspicious and he takes the drastic steps of making sure she isn’t around to cause any trouble. But that’s a story for another day, for another person entirely. Right now there are other matters to attend to.
Right now Trace Demon needs to make a phone call.
< *** >
CAR INTERIOR
25th OCTOBER 2012
He listens to the dial tone as he drives back home, a calm sense of acceptance running through his body. He’d taken the lead now, ignited something within himself that there was no backing away from. Ari Teague was one problem that he had taken care of with relative ease, but another far greater problem still hung above him and the WFWF like a disease, a disease that needed to be cut out before it could spread any further. And if he was going to do that then he’d need help. Gone are the days when he will wait for some other man to come along and start the war, gone are the days when he would insert himself into somebody else’s great scheme to bring down the man in charge. This was his time now.
EBR: Hello?
The voice echoes out through the hands free set in his car, a voice that Trace Demon had never expected to hear again, especially not in such circumstances, but he had made the call for a reason.
Trace Demon: E, it’s Trace.
EBR: Oh ... can I ask how you got this number?
Trace Demon: You can get just about anything when you know the right people.
Actually all he had to do was call in a favour from Xavier Pierce’s secretary. As it turned out she was quite the fan of trying it on with married men and he knew how to hold that kind of information over a person.
EBR: That’s shrewd ...anywhoo, I’m a little busy so I’ll have to call you back ... and stuff ...
He wasn’t surprised by his reluctance to talk to him. It wasn’t like they’d ever gotten along. They’d fought each other one on one once before, a match that EBR won, and then there was the whole time he tore down Trace’s administration with The Anointed. So yeah, they weren’t exactly friends, but this wasn’t about friendship.
Trace Demon: Don’t hang up, just give me a minute, I’ve got an offer for you.
EBR: This won’t be awkward.
Trace Demon: Look, I known that you want Xavier Pierce gone.
EBR: Pierce? What? Nah, we good.
There’s a hesitative pause that tells Trace Demon more than EBR’s words ever could.
EBR: Wooord.
Trace Demon: Right, whatever you say. Look, I want to make you an offer, you help me and I help you and we get rid of Xavier Pierce for good, before he can take the entire company down with us in it.
A brief silence as the man who Trace once considered a legend considers the offer. He’d have much preferred to have offered this role to Wayne, Vanessa or hell, even to Thunder if he hadn’t become such a whimpering failure, but none of them has what it takes to do what needs to be done. EBR is the only one Trace considers capable.
EBR: Yeah I’m not gonna be doing that, but hey I appreciate you asking me. Good looking out.
Trace Demon: I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself here E, to get rid of the pathetic clown who thinks he runs the place.
EBR: Hrm. That doesn’t really interest me at all but hey, good luck with ... that ... and uh ... ah man I think my phone is breaking up ...
Muffled noises which are clearly EBR just cupping his mouth follow before the phone beeps and hangs up. Trace simply smirks, he should be mad, should be pissed off, but he isn’t because now he has his answer, his plan, and all he needed was a hesitative pause. Because whether EBR has accepted it or not, he has him onside.
< *** >
I’m usually pretty good at these. Big speeches where I explain why I’m going to win, how I’m going to hurt you and tear the flesh from your bones and all of that macabre stuff. You know the drill by now, it’s all the same, but that’s the problem, isn’t it? That’s been my problem for years. I’m the same, the same man that I was one, two, even three years ago. I dance around to the beat of my own drum, don’t take crap, make a mess and hurt a few people. That’s all I’ve been doing, and that’s a problem, because it isn’t enough. It’s not enough for me. Because you see the one thing that I have been claiming to be, a king, it was all a lie, it’s been a lie for so damn long now that I just stopped paying attention to it. But I can’t do that anymore, because now I’m seeing things through clear eyes and I don’t like what I see. I look in the mirror and I see the International Champion and I realize that I should be happy, but I’m not.
So why am I not happy? That’s the logical question, right? But I don’t have a logical answer for you, because unless you’re up in my head you wouldn’t understand. Unless you’ve lived my life you wouldn’t be able to grasp the intricacies behind it, and that’s fine, you don’t have to understand, it doesn’t matter whether you know what I feel or not. All that matters is that I feel it, all that matters is that day after day, month after month, year after year I feel it and I know it’s there and it eats away at me. It tears me apart. You see I stopped doubting myself recently, but as it turned out that doubt was well placed, it was just directed at the wrong thing. Because while I’ve been in this business six years now I’ve never really been in control, I’ve never just gone for it.
I’ve always been there, sat at the back, watching, waiting, seeing what happens and then making my move. But that doesn’t work for me anymore, that isn’t who I want to be. Nobody respects the man who waits, they respect the man who just simply does it. And that’s the man I need to be, I need to stop waiting and letting people act and then reacting to it, I need to stop waiting for other people to begin wars and then jumping in at the most opportune moment because by the end of it all while people might remember me for being a part of it all, they’ll never remember be as an instigator, and that just p****s me off. If I want to be remember, I need to stop being reactive, and start being a king. I already know I can adapt to whatever people throw at me, so what’s been stopping me just starting the fire instead of watching it, what stopped me from going out and crippling Yukio Blaze the moment I heard he was coming back instead of waiting for him to come out and interrupt me and then catching him off guard? I didn’t plan that, I was just prepared and that isn’t good enough anymore! It’s not!
Because preparation is not victory in itself, but the precursor for those willing to make the first move. And I am now willing, I am now willing to bring the fight to each and every one of you. Drakz, Kyzer, David Brennan, Yukio Blaze, Phillip Schneider, Shawn Malakai, Cameron Stone, Raider, Cam Nitta, any single f*****g person who thinks that they are going to get in my way are going to learn a very crude lesson in pre-emptive action. Because from now on I am not going to wait for anybody to become a problem, I am going to eliminate the issue before it arises. Because I’m thinking forwards to a grand scheme indeed, a masterpiece of chaos and I can’t have anybody causing a hitch in that, I can’t have one of you popping up and de-railing me. So that’s the way this is going from now on.
Yukio Blaze, you have become a recurring nightmare in my psyche and I don’t like that. You are the most clear cut example of how my failures have come back to haunt me. Three years ago we had our problems and when it came time to settle them I failed, I couldn’t do it and then you left and I never got the chance. And then you came back and I… I ignored you, can you believe that? That woke me up Yukio so thank you for that and because you helped me achieve this enlightenment I am going to give you a gift this week on Revolution. So before I beat this Cameron Stone guy, I’m going to ask you to join me in the ring and I am going to give you your gift and I have this feeling, no, I’m damn sure that you will appreciate it because I’ve put a lot of thought into it. But Yukio, and I don’t have any hard feelings about this, but you are not allowed to be my sole focus this week. No, you don’t get to take up all of my energy.
Because there’s this man, this man called Cameron Stone. Now Cameron, I don’t know exactly how you managed it, how you somehow got under Xavier Pierce’s skin to such a degree that he granted you a shot at my title, but let me just say that I am impressed. I am impressed at your stupidity. Because let’s face it Stone, you’re a f*****g nobody. You don’t belong in that ring with me, I don’t think you even belong in this company, but here you are and you’ve just been given a match against Trace Demon and for some reason you accepted, you didn’t run away and hide? Rookie mistake kid, rookie mistake. Because right now, in this very moment in time, I have to make an example out of somebody and while I would like it to be somebody who actually matters to… well, matters to anybody, I’ll take what I can get.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking past you, I can’t afford to do that. So I’m training the same way I always do, I’m preparing for this with the same focus, now that I actually know that you’re an actual wrestler and not another rookie making his debut. I’m coming at you with the same mind-set that I did when I beat Drakz, when I beat Hutton Brown, when I beat the World Heavyweight Champion. Because I am no longer taking risks, because I am not going to let you survive just to come back in a few months or a few years and become a pain in my ass, that’s not happening anymore. So either two things can happen, I either beat you so bad that you never want to step in the ring with me again, or I beat you so bad that you’re never physically capable of stepping in the ring again full stop.
I see what this really is Stone, and I’m sure you even with your double digit IQ see it as well. This is Xavier Pierce’s answer, this is his return move to what I’ve brought so far. He thinks of himself as quite the tactician, as quite the player, and that’s fine, let him think what he wants, let him move his pawns around the board however he wants, because by the end of it all, when you all finally see what it is I am doing… then you’ll all be hearing the exact same thing. You’ll all be hearing me say the same words to Xavier Piece, to Cameron Stone, to Yukio Blaze and to anybody else who thinks they can play my game. And when those words drift through your ears, it will be the moment before I cut them off simply because I can.
Checkmate.
