Post by Gabriel Baal on Jul 2, 2016 10:38:00 GMT -5
June 25th 2001
Daniel Collins looked young for his age – he was an intelligent, 17 year old who was usually full of verve and vigour. Yet on this day, he sat alone under the shade of a tree in Regent’s park. He was reading a letter – a letter that didn’t even look finished. He was subdued, and his eyes were red from tears. His mother, the only family he had ever known, had been buried just twenty four hours earlier. Seventeen years of age and left with nothing – alone.
Gabriel had always admired Daniel’s will to be the best at everything he did, despite the difficult start he’d had in his life. He didn’t complain, he didn’t whine – he merely pushed on. Daniel Collins was the type of person Gabriel himself wished he could be. Obviously, Gabriel was intelligent. He was on the verge of heading to University to begin the long, winding path to becoming a Doctor.
Gabriel’s upbringing had hardly been straight forward – he’d been in and out of foster care since he could remember. His parents abilities to look after him had peaked and troughed with their abilities to remain sober – and he didn’t have the positive outlook that Daniel had. Gabriel was bitter and twisted – angry with the world. The worst part about it all was that he knew it. He could see just how much he hated everyone and everything. Everyone except Daniel – Daniel was his best friend.
"Dan."
Gabriel called to his friend as he approached, and Daniel looked up from his book. As it ever did, Daniel’s mouth curled into a smile. As Gabriel approached, Dan climbed to his feet leaving the letter on the ground. As they met in the shade of the large oak, they embraced. A few seconds later, they pulled apart and both lowered back to sit against the tree.
"How’re you doing?"
It was a hollow question – it was obvious that Daniel was in pain. It was a question that everyone all ways asked the grieving knowing full well that the response would be as pointless as the question.
"I’m alright."
A few moments passed between them silent, as Daniel picked up the book and placed it on his lap.
"What’s that?"
A more pertinent question – Gabriel wanted to know what it was that his friend had been so engrossed in before he’d arrived.
"It’s… It’s nothing."
Gabriel reached out to take the letter, but Daniel pulled it away.
"Don’t."
"Dan, what is it?"
Daniel’s eyes filled with tears – he looked away from Gabriel, out over the boating lake. His breathing was heavy, as if trying to control his emotions.
"This letter is everything my mother wanted to tell me, but never had the stomach to say. These are all of the things that I should have known since the day I was born. I found it in her room, under her pillow the day that she…"
He trailed off, still looking out over the water. Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You know you don’t have to tell me anything – but you can tell me anything."
Dan took a deep breath.
"I’d always suspected who my father really was – I’d always thought her stories about all the things he’d done had been a little too perfect. But it turns out, that wasn’t even the half of it. He’s not a good man, Gabe – he’s not a good man. My entire childhood was a lie – my entire childhood was filled with stories of a man who I looked up to. A mother who lied to me every day of my life."
Gabriel smiled and shook his head.
"Dan – I’d kill to have a father in my life, good or bad. I’d kill to have a family at all. Don’t let something as small as her protecting you from the truth about your father tarnish the memories that - "
"I have a brother."
This, it seemed, was not what Gabriel had expected. Dan was looking him in the eye now. The tears and pain seemed to have turned to anger.
"My mother had a child, ten years before I was born. My mother had a child that had left her unable to love me in the way that she should have. My mother had a child, whom she named after my father, whom they sold to an American couple. A child that they sold like a puppy. A child that stopped my mother from ever loving me the way that she should have done."
Gabriel remained silent. Their eye contact was somewhat uncomfortable now.
"Do you know where he is?"
"Texas, apparently. He was an American Footballer and now he’s a wrestler."
"Do you even know his name?"
Daniel looked down at the letter, skimming over the shaky writing.
"Quentin Barnes."
"That was the first time that I knew what devastation your name could cause, Mr. Barnes. Sat under that tree, sat next to my best friend. Something changed in me that day – it was the first time I felt the rising fury within me. It was the first time I felt the need to do everything within my power to make sure that no-one would feel that way at the sound of your name every again."
Gabriel looked down at Barnes, sat staring at a monitor. On the monitor was the view of a chair in a room – an empty room. Barnes didn’t speak, he just watched silently as Baal stood behind him and talked.
"My best friend was never the same after that day either, Quentin. So much was the change in our relationship that it led to him becoming my first ever patient. On that day, I knew that Daniel Collins would become Patient Zero. I would have to work very hard to make right what went wrong in him. It would be difficult, it would be crushing but it would be the right thing to do."
On the monitor, there was movement. Slowly, but surely Patient Zero was wheeled into view. Strapped to his hand truck, his face covered. Gabriel could see Barnes tense at the sight.
"I’m sorry that this is how you’ve had to find out about your brother, Quentin. But I need you to understand that he’s here for his own safety and for yours. His feelings of rage and jealousy towards you are unfounded. He’s a man trapped within his own mind – he’s a man who is dangerous in the wrong circumstances."
Baal smiled as he walked forward and placed a hand on Quentin’s shoulder.
"Holden Orson is much the same, don’t you think? A man so dangerous because his mind is so clearly broken. A man so tortured about who he was that he would have to conjure an entirely new persona in order to cover up the fact that he can’t handle the truth about who he is and where he comes from?"
Barnes slowly turns his head to face Baal, with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.
"Go fuck yourself."
Gabriel presses on, as if Barnes hadn’t even spoken.
"I find it somewhat queer, that Martin Graber is unable to come to terms with the truth of his own nature. But this, for the rest of us, is both a blessing and a curse. You see, the blessing is simple – no man is infallible when he hides behind a façade of lies. Holden Orson is so wrapped up in this lie, that he believes it. He knows that he’s not real, that there is no basis or truth behind his existence, yet still he exists. The danger lies in the fact that Holden Orson knows no consequence. "
Barnes looks away, back to the screen where nurses are slowly and surely cleaning Patient Zero and unstrapping him. They lift him carefully and kindly onto his bed, before turning on a radio to his right.
"Holden Orson knows that if his actions should ever take him too far, he will merely hide away – disappear and allow Martin Graber to return and take the consequences of his actions. This is the danger for us all – a man so deeply and intrinsically damaged, yet in total control of his actions. Holden Orson could disappear at any time and leave us with The Mainstreamer. A broken, guilt-ridden, Mainstreamer who would be a danger to himself. Holden Orson is man living a lie, and I invite him to take a look in the mirror."
Quentin Barnes watches as Patient Zero – Daniel Collins – slowly slipped into slumber.
March 30th 2011
Gabriel adjusted the cuffs of his shirt – it was new. As was the suit, and the shoes. It was an impression he was looking to make. Just a year out of his residency and he was already the head of a successful retreat. The Angelfield’s Resort was brand new. Of course, his position had been created through his connection to a powerful friend. That was a point he’d been able to manipulate over the years. Gabriel Baal was a rising star throughout the medical world and he had one person to thank for that. He opened the door to the surprisingly dower looking diner and made his entrance. He looked around for the face that he recognised. The man with whom he was meeting was not alone, he was flanked by two others. Neither looked particularly happy.
"Here we go…"
Baal slowly walked across the room and grinned.
"Robert – good to see you.”
"Gabriel. How’ve you been?"
Robert was British, and in his sixties – his hair was mostly grey and the stubble on his face was salt and pepper. He stood up as they shook hands, before retaking his seat.
"Before we begin, Gabriel, how is my son?"
Baal nodded as he ran his hand over the top of the table knocking crumbs onto the ground.
"Thriving, you’ll be glad to know. Having started a much deeper level of treatment at Angelfields, his anger is much subdued and his emotional outbursts have reduced significantly."
Robert’s jaw quivered slightly.
"Do you think I would be able to visit soon?"
"Not a good idea, Robert – I’m not sure meeting you would be best for his recovery."
The man to Robert’s left seemed to swell with indignation, but Robert held up his hand to quiet him.
"If that’s what you think’s best, Dr. Baal. So – to business – I asked you here today to offer you an opportunity, should you be so inclined to take it."
Gabriel leant back in his chair, opening up his posture as much as possible.
"I wish for you to join the Order of the Inferno."
Gabriel slowly allowed a smile to cross his lips. The Order was powerful – it was their influence that had allowed him to flourish so quickly.
"Gentlemen – I appreciate the offer, but I have no interest in being a pawn in your grand plans. I know how your organisation works, and I do not wish to be one of the faceless masses that feed into your Organisation."
"You misunderstand me, Gabriel – I’m not offering you an affiliation. I’m offering you a role on the council. I wish to make you my nomination to become The Seventh Circle."
Gabriel lifted his hand to his jaw, feigning surprise. The truth was much simpler – they had already has this conversation. This meeting was a formality.
"I would like to introduce you to my right hand man, The Curator. He is the man who controls the flow of information into my office – however, given our history I would expect you to report to me directly."
The Curator’s eyes opened wide, he turned his head towards Robert.
"Father, this is highly irregular – everything must come…"
Again, The Curator is shut down with a simple wave of the hand.
"This, Gabriel, is Uriel – he will be your right hand. He has worked in the office of the Seventh for many years and would offer you the greatest path to success. He has contacts, and he will be most helpful to you. Should you accept of course."
Gabriel slowly climbed to his feet, and buttoned the jacket of his suit.
"Robert – it would be my privilege to accept. Or should I say, Father?"
"Not yet, Mr Baal."
The Curator’s sneer was hidden from Robert, but not from Gabriel. He would remember that. One day, the Curator would know it
"Gentlemen – could you give Gabriel and I a moment alone."
Uriel and The Curator exchanged a look before slowly climbing to their feet and vacating the table. Robert watched them walking away, talking, before retaking his seat opposite Gabriel.
"Those two could be a problem for you, Gabriel. You need to watch your back."
"I can look after myself."
"That’s what I’m worried about."
Gabriel let out a chuckle of laughter.
"Now that the formalities out of the way – I want to talk to you about our deal. You’re inducted onto our Council and you continue to provide care for Daniel. And of course…"
"Are you sure you want me to go down this path? He doesn’t even know you’re alive."
Robert slowly rubbed his forehead just above his eyebrow – he didn’t answer straight away. That was something that Robert Collins was good at – making you believe that he was considering what you were saying, before making whatever decision he wanted anyway.
"Neither does Daniel. I need to meet my son, Gabriel. Finally – I need to meet him. You told me you could arrange that – was that the truth?"
Gabriel slowly climbs to his feet once again and offered his hand to Robert who shook it with vigour.
"It may take some time – this is a delicate process. But I promise you Robert, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you will meet your son. What was his name again?"
Robert turned his head, recognising the power play that Gabriel had just made – he knew the name, he just wanted to hear it from Robert himself.
"Quentin Barnes."
"Your father wasn’t a good man Quentin – I’m not going to lie to you about that. He was a man, much like myself, who knew how to get things done. He was a man of power who introduced me to a World like no other. He introduced me to a world where you can manipulate almost anyone with the right leverage. Yet he was a man who would tell you that he rolled with the punches – he had no plan, he just played his hand as it was dealt. I think that was a lie."
Barnes now looked down at a video, taken at the funeral of Robert Collins, from just a few months ago.
"I made the agreement to bring you two together, and I feel terrible that I never made that happen. Unfortuantely, he was unable to tether his hound of justice and in turn I was unable to provide him with that which he wanted. Of course, it wasn’t just as simple as knocking on your door and introducing the two of you."
"Why not? Why not just call me and tell me?"
Baal smiled, but Barnes did not see it. He continued to look down at the screen, the silent video playing out as Robert Collins was entombed in the Chapel of the Inferno.
"Because if you had refused the meeting, I would have been in danger. My position would be teniable – and if I hadn’t been able to offer the meeting, I would have been removed. Forcibly. Whilst I still had the power to bring the two of you together, in a way that would have been amicable, then I would have been owed the entire world. I couldn’t risk you spitting in his face. And neither could he."
As the tomb closed over, Barnes slowly lowered the phone and placed it on the table next to him. He looked over his shoulder to the monitor, at Daniel asleep, comfortable.
"You see, your Father called himself an anarchist – he wanted to make sure that the status quo would always be disrupted. He wanted to ensure that this country was never stable, because whilst there was a lack of stability then the Inferno could control it all. He saw himself as a Rebel, despite his very specific actions that had a very specific conclusion. He’s not alone in that folly, Quentin. Many who believe they bring Anarchy do just the opposite."
Barnes flicked a look at Baal, knowing what was coming. Gabriel forged on non-the-less.
"The Crazed Anarchist is much the same. He fancies himself a creator of confusion, a director of discord. He likes to claim that he wishes to destroy the established order and allow the world around him to burn. Yet the truth is much more simple – he is a man who wants to win a championship. He is a man who wants to destroy the established order and replace it with an order which holds him in the centre."
Sliding his finger over the edge of his desk, Gabriel looks away from Barnes for the first time.
"People respect what I do because I’m honest about it – I want to take down Travis Roberts because he’s a false idol. I wanted to help Alan Wallace because I believed he would be truly happier with in a less narcissistic world. I want to defeat all comers at Wrestlestock because I want to be able to look at everyone else in that match and tell them – I am better than you. Exactly like I did at the Global Challenge. The Crazed Anarchist is a liar – he is not about anarchy. He is about Order. An Order of his choosing – and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a reality that we all desire, but we need to be honest about it – save it eat away at us all from the inside out. The Crazed Anarchist I a liar – and I invite him to look in the mirror."
April 24th, 2001
"The motion is cast – Gabriel Baal is duly named The Seventh Circle of the Inferno."
The applause from the galleries was loud, but the silence from the other members of the council was deafening. Gabriel had been appointed, but not happily. The Father’s nomination was effectively an appointment – no-one would stand against The Father. Yet as Gabriel remained in his seat, allowing the throng of watchers and council members leave the Chamber, he couldn’t help but feel that eventually he would have to make them all pay for their lack of support – especially…
"Congratulations, brother. Welcome to the Council of the Inferno."
Gabriel looked around to look into the face of Michael – the Ninth Circle – and the only man to have spoken out against the appointment. Yet he had voted to induct Gabriel nonetheless – he was as afraid of The Father as he was unsure of Gabriel’s role. Gabriel accepted the handshake as he climbed to his feet.
"Thank you, brother. It’s good to finally meet you – The Father has told me so much ab…"
Michael pulled Gabriel close, until they were almost embracing.
"I don’t like you and I don’t like that you’ve got direct access to The Father. I do not trust you. Do you understand?"
Gabriel nodded – who did he think he was?
"My job – my only job – is to protect this Order by any means necessary. Especially from those who could do damage to our cause. So whenever someone new is brought into the fold, my office does due diligence. It’s not a fun, nor popular job – but it’s one that has to be done. So you’ll be interested to know, that my agents were unable to find out anything about you except what is in public record."
"I would have hoped that would have been enough…"
Once more, Gabriel is cut off by the man who minutes ago had been one of eight to vote in his membership unanimously.
"Orphaned as a child, no history, no photographs, no friends, no family. Then, you disappeared part way through University, feared dead. You returned six months later with no recollection of where you had been and the amazing Gabriel Baal went on to Graduate with honours anyway."
Gabriel smiled, his hand starting to throb from the pressure of the shake.
"I took a personal interest in your case, Gabriel. I did some deep, deep digging and I found out some truths about you. I know… Gabriel. I know who and what you really are. I know what The Father thinks you’re doing for him – but I know what you are. Yet I can’t say a word. If I do, I’ll be cast out as a liar and a traitor because I can’t prove anything."
The smile became a grin – yet Baal was unnerved by Michael’s unyielding confidence.
"So here we are – at an impasse. All I can do is suggest that you stay as far away from this council as you can – do your job. Better still, leave that to Uriel as he was supposed to be sat in your seat, before you came along. Stay away, and I may let you live."
Gabriel let out a burst of laughter.
"You can’t hurt me, Michael. You may be our problem solver, but you wouldn’t risk…"
"This Order is more important than me, Gabriel – more important than my life. If I have to protect it with my blood I will. If you come back, if you show your face again I will kill you – I swear it."
Michael turned to walk away before stopping and looking back.
"And keep him away from The Father – or I will kill for that too."
Gabriel knew the answer to his next question, before unclenching his jaw.
"Keep who away?"
Michael turned his head, showing Baal that he knew the game that was being played.
"Quentin Barnes."
Walking around the office, Barnes is clearly distressed – mixed between pain, and anger, between relief and confusion. His breathing is heavy, his head is hung.
"Why didn’t you fuckin’ come to me, man? I would have had a choice."
"I’m not to proud to admit that I was a afraid, Quentin. Michael was a man with hellacious resources and a devote believe in The Order – I had no reason to doubt that he would risk his own life to end mine. The Father would never have agreed to meet you without my presence, and I would not return to London, nor would I visit our meeting place here whilst Michael hung this threat over my head – not until I had the requisite protection. It took me five years to find Solomon."
Barnes shook his head.
"I could have protected you. I would have."
"Please, Quentin – you didn’t even know me. Why would you protect me in exchange for without reason? Make no mistake, I would not have given you what I knew – why give up what little leverage I had over everyone involved. Once you knew, then there would be no need for the middle man. I wasn’t even sure I could trust your father. For all I knew, Mr. Barnes, my destiny was to lie at the bottom of the Hudson River once I had convinced you to visit your father."
"So you were never going to tell me? You were never going to keep your promise?"
Gabriel smiled, with his head tilted much like he always did.
"Of course I was – but only when I had surplanted him as The Father. I was to take his seat and then give him everything he’d ever wanted – both of his sons. Two men he could be proud of, take care of. A family. But fear prevented me from doing that, Quentin – you have to see the power of fear."
Barnes stopped for a moment and looked Baal in the face – he saw something in those eyes that was different to the anger of earlier – he saw a dawning of something new.
"Fear is but a word, Mr. Barnes – I can see that now. Even when Fear embodies a man – like Phrixus Deimos. Fear, as you once said, can make you strong as it keeps you careful. It keeps you alert. It keeps you on the edge of your very seat. But fear can also stunt, Mr. Barnes. That is what I’ve learnt – Fear is not power, fear is a shade. For me, Michael taught me that fear can prevent progression, but your Father taught me that true power can force progression where before there was naught."
Gabriel walked towards Barnes, and extended his hand onto Barnes shoulder.
"Phear is but a shadow – he prevents those he faces from moving forward. He stops them in their path because he embodies everything that fear is – but to me, Fear is nothing. Not compared to control - to power. Fear merely shows a man his true self, power can manipulate that self into anything you want. People do not fear me because I’m terrifying, people fear me because of what I can make them do."
"Is that what I’m here for, Baal? Do you plan on making me accept your agreement?"
"I plan on showing you that the fear you have in accepting my agreement is nothing compared to the power you will have when you do. Those who join me progress, Mr. Barnes. Those who fear regress. Mr. Deimos is phantom, Mr. Barnes – Mr. Deimos is a lie unto himself and all who fear him. I invite Phrixus Deimos to take a look in the mirror."
August 12th 2015
"And drop! Come on! Back up… Hit the ropes. Good! Good! Now drop again! Excellent – alright that’s good, that’s enough."
Gabriel rolled out of the ring and walked to the chair on which his water bottle and towel sat. He took a long slug from the bottle, before sitting down and slowly starting to untie his boots.
"Yo, Gabe. You got a minute?"
Baal climbed to his feet and walked across the gym – he pulled the tape off from around his wrists and looked up at Riddick Andrews – his trainer in this beat up, New York Gym. The ring in which they were training was a boxing ring – it hurt. Riddick had made it clear that when he wrestled in a real ring, it would feel like fighting on an airbed compared to this old thing.
"Look, I’m heading out of town for a while. I got a few names you could look at to continue your training while I’m gone. This one’s…"
"How long will you be gone for?"
"I don’t know man – I mean, I’ve been asked to help train an old friend in Texas. I say friend… We fell out a while back but a mutual buddy said he wanted to try and patch things up so… Hey, where you going?"
Gabriel had turned and started to walk away.
"You’re of no use to me now – you’re not going to be here."
"Hey – there’s no need to be like that, man – I’ve trained you for nine months."
"And as much as I appreciate it you were well paid. I feel my training is at its end. I’ll be making my debut soon."
Riddick shook his head and started to follow Baal across the gym.
"Don’t be an ass hole, Gabe – you need to do this right. You jump in the ring with real fighters before you’re ready and you’re gonna get hurt. Look these guys up – they’re a little crazy but they own a wrestling school."
Baal’s eyes seemed to flash for a moment.
"With all due respect, Mr. Andrews, you’re no longer my coach as we’ve just discussed therefore you opinion lends no weight to this discussion. I appreciate the help you’ve given me, but you have things you have to take care of – and so have I."
Without another word, Riddick shakes his head and turns away. As he begins to walk, Gabriel looks up from his towel.
"This friend – anyone I may have heard of?"
"Probably… He’s been around a pretty long time and he’s making a come back. Keep an out for him. The name’s…"
Riddick stopped and turned to make eye contact with his former trainee.
"Quentin Barnes."
Barnes looks down at the paperwork in front of him, his eyes firing over the wording, reading it bit by bit.
"It’s the deed to a new gymnasium I’m having built just outside the city – I want you and Riddick to run I like you did in Austin. I want Riddick to coach wrestling, and I want you to help him. You’re both good… very good."
Barnes shakes his head – not quite understanding what this is all about.
"What do you really want, Baal?"
"I’ve told you my terms – I’m just showing you that I plan to abide by them. Riddick Andrews was a terrific coach – the best of Quentin Barnes came under his coaching. We didn’t end on particularly good terms. I expect you to rebuild that bridge for me."
"What makes you think I can?"
Gabriel smiles as he pulls the deed in front of him across the desk, before signing the deed.
"Because you’re friends today despite everything you’ve done to one another. He contributed to the death of your niece, he had sex with your wife and he fathered a child you believed was yours. You ended his career, and almost his life – yet now you’re “Uncle Quentin” and sharing Christmas dinner. Riddick Andrews is a testament of not giving up, even when everything you’ve seen before tells you it’s time to do just that."
Barnes looks over the signed deed again, the spaces left for Riddick and Barnes to sign… He slowly begins to close over the paperwork.
"Moss Edwards clearly has no idea when the time is right to give it up. He’s come back, a shadow of his former self. And bar a handful of appearances that have been what some might call Moss-like, but for me, when Moss Edwards stood across the ring from me at To Be Determined he was merely a man – not this enigmatic auteur of our business that I’d heard about before his return. Now the fans are looking for the man they once knew and they’re being fed this imitation. Can they forgive that? Of course – they’re morons. They’ll scream and cheer for Moss Edwards because once he was great."
Barnes seems not to be taking any of this in, however, as he once again takes a look in the direction the monitor.
"I cannot forgive Moss Edwards for what he brings to the table, Mr. Barnes. I expect nothing but the very best when a man steps into the ring with me. I am not as forgiving as you, nor am I as forgiving as Mr. Andrews. Moss Edwards will find that out at Wrestlestock. He will find out that I do not appreciate the sham that is the man that stands in that ring using the name of Moss Edwards."
Barnes reaches to a console on the top of his desk. He presses a button and the picture on the monitor changes. The image that shows, forces Barnes to lean forward. He turns to look at Baal, his eyes wide, before looking back at the screen.
"I don’t accept the lies that Moss Edwards continues to peddle as truth. I invite Moss Edwards, to take a look in the mirror."
August 28th, 2015
Gabriel’s trips to the jails within New York City were few and far between these days – his position in the community was such that he would generally be able to see patients at his office. This patient, however, was special. So mistrusted were his links on the outside, he wasn’t even allowed to be transferred under armed guard. Gabriel draped one leg over the other and sat back in his seat – the door behind him opened and the patient walked inside.
"Hey, doc."
"John."
Baal continued to write some notes, without looking up as the patient took his seat. The guard who escorted him, stands to the side.
"This is a private session – I’ll have to ask you to leave."
"No can do – warden’s orders."
"Then I’ll have to ask you to take him back to his cell."
The guard exhaled and shook his head moving towards the patient once more.
"But of course, you’re aware that by denying him his legal right to Doctor-Patient confidentiality, there would be grounds for a law suit."
"And a pretty big one too I’d guess."
Johnny Dinucci, a crime boss, a former wrestling promoter and all round bad guy, seemed to enjoy how they were making this guard squirm. A few seconds later, he’d seemed to quantify the efforts of taking Dinucci back to his cell before finding out whether or not what they were saying was true.
"Fucking ass holes."
There was no attempt to hide the jibe as he made his way out of the room and closed it behind him. As soon as he was gone, the smile of bravado seemed to die, and Dinucci looked much as pained as he’d been every time they’d met.
"I was better – I felt good, I had a chance to get out of here, but turns out I’m not as connected as I thought I was."
"Explain."
Dinucci shifted in his seat, leaning back in his seat.
"I had a visitor who had the power to get me out of here – a letter of recommendation from him and I’d have been out. But I can’t get the information he needs – first chance I have to get out and I fucking failed."
"He won’t write your recommendation either way?"
"He will – but as soon as he realises how useless I am, he’ll have no reason to keep me out of here."
Gabriel made a few notes in his pad.
"You know, I could always arrange for you to come to Angelfields – it would be comfortable, we could speak whenever you required. You would have safety, comfort. After a while, we would probably be able to arrange day passes."
Dinucci smiled and shook his head.
"No offence doc, but if I had to choose between staying at your asylum and getting out, then I’m choosing freedom. "
They share a laugh.
"Look, I’ll be at your parole hearing and I will make it clear there’s nothing that I believe that should stop you being released. I’ll do what I can."
Gabriel ran his tongue over his lips.
"What did this person want you to find out?"
Dinucci ruffled through his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.
"I needed to find out everything I could about Matthew Zale – leverage for a friend of his. Not that I’m overly enamoured with the idea of pulling that thread."
"Related to Colin Zale. I’d done some digging about Colin and found out he had a brother called Matthew. One and the same?"
Dinucci nodded, somewhat nervously.
"I may be able to get you the information you need. Wouldn’t take much digging I wouldn’t have thought."
John immediately looked suspicious.
"Helping my parole case, helping me with this information. What do you get out of this?"
"Let’s just say I have a feeling that, despite your impending freedom, we’ll meet again – and when we do you’ll remember this."
Dinucci’s suspicions seem to have been quelled somewhat.
"We’d best begin, Mr. Dinucci, or you state paid time will be spent. But before we do – can I ask. Who is it that’s going to write this letter? Who wants this information?"
Dinucci shifts again in his seat, unsure as to whether to answer – in the end, the demons shout down the better angels in his head.
"Quentin Barnes."
"I told Mr. Dinucci we would see one another again."
Barnes stares at the monitor to see Dinucci, sat at a table, his hands cuffed staring at state police, guarding him in the room.
"His future is in your hands Mr. Barnes – I’ve offered you the positives. I’ve given you the chance to accept my agreement in exchange for everything I have offered you thus far. Now you have a straight forward choice – you accept my agreement, and Mr. Dinucci lives out his sentence in comfort, safety and security – he will be given all of the freedoms any other man in my care could have. Or you refuse my agreement, and you will never see him again – he will be buried in my secure ward, never again to see the light of day."
Barnes looks up, that bitter resentment showing again.
"I need a mentor, Mr. Barnes – and I’ve chosen you. I want you to guide me to the greatness that I am destined for. If you agree, then John will as close to free as he will ever get."
Barnes looks away, at the monitor, at Dinucci grinning at the police in attendance.
"Unless you realise what could be the truth? That the old Dinucci could well be just under that surface that he’s showing to the outside world. Could he still be that lying deceitful, hateful, arrogant monster that hurt your friends, that stole your company… That had men douse you with acid. You see the very best liars, can convince their enemies that they’ve changed. They can show the face a world, and even those who loathed them the most believe that there is something different inside. That is a genuinely difficult ask, and one that I dare never attempt – but some are capable. Is Johnny Dinucci one of them?"
Barnes looks defeated – his head is hung, his elbows rested on his knees.
"The same could be asked of Eden Morgan – are you as blind with her as you could be with him? I’ve seen patients like her before – those who realise that the only way to truly escape their captivity is to tell their captors what they want. Did Dinucci tell you what you needed to hear to gain his freedom? Did Eden Morgan tell her doctors what they want to hear so she would be released? Is she, even now, staring into the eyes of another one of the many she crossed and telling them how truly sorry she is?"
Baal yet again moves closer to Barnes and puts a caring hand on his shoulder.
"Has she convinced them all Quentin? Even you? The cynic inside of me, it’s screaming that no good girl can go that bad and come back from it. No-one could do the things she’s done and then turn their whole world on it’s head. Perhaps that sweet and innocent world that your old friend once trained was already hiding the truth of what she really was. A beautiful banshee, a gorgeous gorgon, a hellacious harpy? Could it be that the lovely young Eden was always the manipulative shrew? I know you have doubt, Mr. Barnes, because you’ve seen too much in this world to believe that kind of story. She’s no different to all the rest – deceit in Dolce."
Barnes shakes his head, as if trying to rid his mind of the things Gabriel was saying – but still he sat, and still he listened.
"Eden Morgan is no more saint than you or I, Mr. Barnes. We just accept what we are and move on – I know what I am. And I’m happy to admit that – but like so many, Ms. Morgan has fallen prey to the notion that she can transcend what she is. She cannot – and when she falls, she will fall hard. She will get the end she so craved at the hands of Colin Zale, and as I offered all those months ago I will be here to offer her help. Because that is what I do, Mr. Barnes. I help. But for now, I invite Ms. Morgan to take a look in the mirror."
Baal reaches across his desk and turns off the monitor.
"And now, Mr. Barnes, is the moment I know you’ve been waiting for. I offer you help you’re your brother, the truth about your past and your family, a new start for you and your friend Riddick and way out for Johnny Dinucci. In exchange I ask for your mentorship, Riddick’s training and the remanence of your purse now that you’re essentially retired. Should you refuse, then it’s simple – your brother will remain here, in what condition? You will never know. You will learn nothing of where you’ve come from. I will burn that gym to the ground and I will leave Johnny Dinucci rotting in box in my basement."
Baal smiled with only half of his mouth – sneer of unimaginable victory. Either way, Quentin Barnes would lose. Barnes would fight, Baal knew… He would kick and scream, he would curse and storm but in the end he would…
"I accept."
The words came from Barnes lips, but they were hollow and defeated. This had not been what Gabriel had expected – Barnes looked up slowly, and they made eye contact. Everything he’d seen, everything he’d heard… It had been too much.
"I accept."
Gabriel stepped back – a false grin crossing his lips. Had he gone too far? Had he done too much… Or was this the man Quentin Barnes truly was? Broken and defeated by a life that had done more damage than wrestling ever had.
"Thank you – I promise, this will be something wonderful."
"Go fuck yourself."
And there it was – the final act of defiance. And all was right with the world.
Daniel Collins looked young for his age – he was an intelligent, 17 year old who was usually full of verve and vigour. Yet on this day, he sat alone under the shade of a tree in Regent’s park. He was reading a letter – a letter that didn’t even look finished. He was subdued, and his eyes were red from tears. His mother, the only family he had ever known, had been buried just twenty four hours earlier. Seventeen years of age and left with nothing – alone.
Gabriel had always admired Daniel’s will to be the best at everything he did, despite the difficult start he’d had in his life. He didn’t complain, he didn’t whine – he merely pushed on. Daniel Collins was the type of person Gabriel himself wished he could be. Obviously, Gabriel was intelligent. He was on the verge of heading to University to begin the long, winding path to becoming a Doctor.
Gabriel’s upbringing had hardly been straight forward – he’d been in and out of foster care since he could remember. His parents abilities to look after him had peaked and troughed with their abilities to remain sober – and he didn’t have the positive outlook that Daniel had. Gabriel was bitter and twisted – angry with the world. The worst part about it all was that he knew it. He could see just how much he hated everyone and everything. Everyone except Daniel – Daniel was his best friend.
"Dan."
Gabriel called to his friend as he approached, and Daniel looked up from his book. As it ever did, Daniel’s mouth curled into a smile. As Gabriel approached, Dan climbed to his feet leaving the letter on the ground. As they met in the shade of the large oak, they embraced. A few seconds later, they pulled apart and both lowered back to sit against the tree.
"How’re you doing?"
It was a hollow question – it was obvious that Daniel was in pain. It was a question that everyone all ways asked the grieving knowing full well that the response would be as pointless as the question.
"I’m alright."
A few moments passed between them silent, as Daniel picked up the book and placed it on his lap.
"What’s that?"
A more pertinent question – Gabriel wanted to know what it was that his friend had been so engrossed in before he’d arrived.
"It’s… It’s nothing."
Gabriel reached out to take the letter, but Daniel pulled it away.
"Don’t."
"Dan, what is it?"
Daniel’s eyes filled with tears – he looked away from Gabriel, out over the boating lake. His breathing was heavy, as if trying to control his emotions.
"This letter is everything my mother wanted to tell me, but never had the stomach to say. These are all of the things that I should have known since the day I was born. I found it in her room, under her pillow the day that she…"
He trailed off, still looking out over the water. Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You know you don’t have to tell me anything – but you can tell me anything."
Dan took a deep breath.
"I’d always suspected who my father really was – I’d always thought her stories about all the things he’d done had been a little too perfect. But it turns out, that wasn’t even the half of it. He’s not a good man, Gabe – he’s not a good man. My entire childhood was a lie – my entire childhood was filled with stories of a man who I looked up to. A mother who lied to me every day of my life."
Gabriel smiled and shook his head.
"Dan – I’d kill to have a father in my life, good or bad. I’d kill to have a family at all. Don’t let something as small as her protecting you from the truth about your father tarnish the memories that - "
"I have a brother."
This, it seemed, was not what Gabriel had expected. Dan was looking him in the eye now. The tears and pain seemed to have turned to anger.
"My mother had a child, ten years before I was born. My mother had a child that had left her unable to love me in the way that she should have. My mother had a child, whom she named after my father, whom they sold to an American couple. A child that they sold like a puppy. A child that stopped my mother from ever loving me the way that she should have done."
Gabriel remained silent. Their eye contact was somewhat uncomfortable now.
"Do you know where he is?"
"Texas, apparently. He was an American Footballer and now he’s a wrestler."
"Do you even know his name?"
Daniel looked down at the letter, skimming over the shaky writing.
"Quentin Barnes."
"That was the first time that I knew what devastation your name could cause, Mr. Barnes. Sat under that tree, sat next to my best friend. Something changed in me that day – it was the first time I felt the rising fury within me. It was the first time I felt the need to do everything within my power to make sure that no-one would feel that way at the sound of your name every again."
Gabriel looked down at Barnes, sat staring at a monitor. On the monitor was the view of a chair in a room – an empty room. Barnes didn’t speak, he just watched silently as Baal stood behind him and talked.
"My best friend was never the same after that day either, Quentin. So much was the change in our relationship that it led to him becoming my first ever patient. On that day, I knew that Daniel Collins would become Patient Zero. I would have to work very hard to make right what went wrong in him. It would be difficult, it would be crushing but it would be the right thing to do."
On the monitor, there was movement. Slowly, but surely Patient Zero was wheeled into view. Strapped to his hand truck, his face covered. Gabriel could see Barnes tense at the sight.
"I’m sorry that this is how you’ve had to find out about your brother, Quentin. But I need you to understand that he’s here for his own safety and for yours. His feelings of rage and jealousy towards you are unfounded. He’s a man trapped within his own mind – he’s a man who is dangerous in the wrong circumstances."
Baal smiled as he walked forward and placed a hand on Quentin’s shoulder.
"Holden Orson is much the same, don’t you think? A man so dangerous because his mind is so clearly broken. A man so tortured about who he was that he would have to conjure an entirely new persona in order to cover up the fact that he can’t handle the truth about who he is and where he comes from?"
Barnes slowly turns his head to face Baal, with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.
"Go fuck yourself."
Gabriel presses on, as if Barnes hadn’t even spoken.
"I find it somewhat queer, that Martin Graber is unable to come to terms with the truth of his own nature. But this, for the rest of us, is both a blessing and a curse. You see, the blessing is simple – no man is infallible when he hides behind a façade of lies. Holden Orson is so wrapped up in this lie, that he believes it. He knows that he’s not real, that there is no basis or truth behind his existence, yet still he exists. The danger lies in the fact that Holden Orson knows no consequence. "
Barnes looks away, back to the screen where nurses are slowly and surely cleaning Patient Zero and unstrapping him. They lift him carefully and kindly onto his bed, before turning on a radio to his right.
"Holden Orson knows that if his actions should ever take him too far, he will merely hide away – disappear and allow Martin Graber to return and take the consequences of his actions. This is the danger for us all – a man so deeply and intrinsically damaged, yet in total control of his actions. Holden Orson could disappear at any time and leave us with The Mainstreamer. A broken, guilt-ridden, Mainstreamer who would be a danger to himself. Holden Orson is man living a lie, and I invite him to take a look in the mirror."
Quentin Barnes watches as Patient Zero – Daniel Collins – slowly slipped into slumber.
March 30th 2011
Gabriel adjusted the cuffs of his shirt – it was new. As was the suit, and the shoes. It was an impression he was looking to make. Just a year out of his residency and he was already the head of a successful retreat. The Angelfield’s Resort was brand new. Of course, his position had been created through his connection to a powerful friend. That was a point he’d been able to manipulate over the years. Gabriel Baal was a rising star throughout the medical world and he had one person to thank for that. He opened the door to the surprisingly dower looking diner and made his entrance. He looked around for the face that he recognised. The man with whom he was meeting was not alone, he was flanked by two others. Neither looked particularly happy.
"Here we go…"
Baal slowly walked across the room and grinned.
"Robert – good to see you.”
"Gabriel. How’ve you been?"
Robert was British, and in his sixties – his hair was mostly grey and the stubble on his face was salt and pepper. He stood up as they shook hands, before retaking his seat.
"Before we begin, Gabriel, how is my son?"
Baal nodded as he ran his hand over the top of the table knocking crumbs onto the ground.
"Thriving, you’ll be glad to know. Having started a much deeper level of treatment at Angelfields, his anger is much subdued and his emotional outbursts have reduced significantly."
Robert’s jaw quivered slightly.
"Do you think I would be able to visit soon?"
"Not a good idea, Robert – I’m not sure meeting you would be best for his recovery."
The man to Robert’s left seemed to swell with indignation, but Robert held up his hand to quiet him.
"If that’s what you think’s best, Dr. Baal. So – to business – I asked you here today to offer you an opportunity, should you be so inclined to take it."
Gabriel leant back in his chair, opening up his posture as much as possible.
"I wish for you to join the Order of the Inferno."
Gabriel slowly allowed a smile to cross his lips. The Order was powerful – it was their influence that had allowed him to flourish so quickly.
"Gentlemen – I appreciate the offer, but I have no interest in being a pawn in your grand plans. I know how your organisation works, and I do not wish to be one of the faceless masses that feed into your Organisation."
"You misunderstand me, Gabriel – I’m not offering you an affiliation. I’m offering you a role on the council. I wish to make you my nomination to become The Seventh Circle."
Gabriel lifted his hand to his jaw, feigning surprise. The truth was much simpler – they had already has this conversation. This meeting was a formality.
"I would like to introduce you to my right hand man, The Curator. He is the man who controls the flow of information into my office – however, given our history I would expect you to report to me directly."
The Curator’s eyes opened wide, he turned his head towards Robert.
"Father, this is highly irregular – everything must come…"
Again, The Curator is shut down with a simple wave of the hand.
"This, Gabriel, is Uriel – he will be your right hand. He has worked in the office of the Seventh for many years and would offer you the greatest path to success. He has contacts, and he will be most helpful to you. Should you accept of course."
Gabriel slowly climbed to his feet, and buttoned the jacket of his suit.
"Robert – it would be my privilege to accept. Or should I say, Father?"
"Not yet, Mr Baal."
The Curator’s sneer was hidden from Robert, but not from Gabriel. He would remember that. One day, the Curator would know it
"Gentlemen – could you give Gabriel and I a moment alone."
Uriel and The Curator exchanged a look before slowly climbing to their feet and vacating the table. Robert watched them walking away, talking, before retaking his seat opposite Gabriel.
"Those two could be a problem for you, Gabriel. You need to watch your back."
"I can look after myself."
"That’s what I’m worried about."
Gabriel let out a chuckle of laughter.
"Now that the formalities out of the way – I want to talk to you about our deal. You’re inducted onto our Council and you continue to provide care for Daniel. And of course…"
"Are you sure you want me to go down this path? He doesn’t even know you’re alive."
Robert slowly rubbed his forehead just above his eyebrow – he didn’t answer straight away. That was something that Robert Collins was good at – making you believe that he was considering what you were saying, before making whatever decision he wanted anyway.
"Neither does Daniel. I need to meet my son, Gabriel. Finally – I need to meet him. You told me you could arrange that – was that the truth?"
Gabriel slowly climbs to his feet once again and offered his hand to Robert who shook it with vigour.
"It may take some time – this is a delicate process. But I promise you Robert, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you will meet your son. What was his name again?"
Robert turned his head, recognising the power play that Gabriel had just made – he knew the name, he just wanted to hear it from Robert himself.
"Quentin Barnes."
"Your father wasn’t a good man Quentin – I’m not going to lie to you about that. He was a man, much like myself, who knew how to get things done. He was a man of power who introduced me to a World like no other. He introduced me to a world where you can manipulate almost anyone with the right leverage. Yet he was a man who would tell you that he rolled with the punches – he had no plan, he just played his hand as it was dealt. I think that was a lie."
Barnes now looked down at a video, taken at the funeral of Robert Collins, from just a few months ago.
"I made the agreement to bring you two together, and I feel terrible that I never made that happen. Unfortuantely, he was unable to tether his hound of justice and in turn I was unable to provide him with that which he wanted. Of course, it wasn’t just as simple as knocking on your door and introducing the two of you."
"Why not? Why not just call me and tell me?"
Baal smiled, but Barnes did not see it. He continued to look down at the screen, the silent video playing out as Robert Collins was entombed in the Chapel of the Inferno.
"Because if you had refused the meeting, I would have been in danger. My position would be teniable – and if I hadn’t been able to offer the meeting, I would have been removed. Forcibly. Whilst I still had the power to bring the two of you together, in a way that would have been amicable, then I would have been owed the entire world. I couldn’t risk you spitting in his face. And neither could he."
As the tomb closed over, Barnes slowly lowered the phone and placed it on the table next to him. He looked over his shoulder to the monitor, at Daniel asleep, comfortable.
"You see, your Father called himself an anarchist – he wanted to make sure that the status quo would always be disrupted. He wanted to ensure that this country was never stable, because whilst there was a lack of stability then the Inferno could control it all. He saw himself as a Rebel, despite his very specific actions that had a very specific conclusion. He’s not alone in that folly, Quentin. Many who believe they bring Anarchy do just the opposite."
Barnes flicked a look at Baal, knowing what was coming. Gabriel forged on non-the-less.
"The Crazed Anarchist is much the same. He fancies himself a creator of confusion, a director of discord. He likes to claim that he wishes to destroy the established order and allow the world around him to burn. Yet the truth is much more simple – he is a man who wants to win a championship. He is a man who wants to destroy the established order and replace it with an order which holds him in the centre."
Sliding his finger over the edge of his desk, Gabriel looks away from Barnes for the first time.
"People respect what I do because I’m honest about it – I want to take down Travis Roberts because he’s a false idol. I wanted to help Alan Wallace because I believed he would be truly happier with in a less narcissistic world. I want to defeat all comers at Wrestlestock because I want to be able to look at everyone else in that match and tell them – I am better than you. Exactly like I did at the Global Challenge. The Crazed Anarchist is a liar – he is not about anarchy. He is about Order. An Order of his choosing – and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a reality that we all desire, but we need to be honest about it – save it eat away at us all from the inside out. The Crazed Anarchist I a liar – and I invite him to look in the mirror."
April 24th, 2001
"The motion is cast – Gabriel Baal is duly named The Seventh Circle of the Inferno."
The applause from the galleries was loud, but the silence from the other members of the council was deafening. Gabriel had been appointed, but not happily. The Father’s nomination was effectively an appointment – no-one would stand against The Father. Yet as Gabriel remained in his seat, allowing the throng of watchers and council members leave the Chamber, he couldn’t help but feel that eventually he would have to make them all pay for their lack of support – especially…
"Congratulations, brother. Welcome to the Council of the Inferno."
Gabriel looked around to look into the face of Michael – the Ninth Circle – and the only man to have spoken out against the appointment. Yet he had voted to induct Gabriel nonetheless – he was as afraid of The Father as he was unsure of Gabriel’s role. Gabriel accepted the handshake as he climbed to his feet.
"Thank you, brother. It’s good to finally meet you – The Father has told me so much ab…"
Michael pulled Gabriel close, until they were almost embracing.
"I don’t like you and I don’t like that you’ve got direct access to The Father. I do not trust you. Do you understand?"
Gabriel nodded – who did he think he was?
"My job – my only job – is to protect this Order by any means necessary. Especially from those who could do damage to our cause. So whenever someone new is brought into the fold, my office does due diligence. It’s not a fun, nor popular job – but it’s one that has to be done. So you’ll be interested to know, that my agents were unable to find out anything about you except what is in public record."
"I would have hoped that would have been enough…"
Once more, Gabriel is cut off by the man who minutes ago had been one of eight to vote in his membership unanimously.
"Orphaned as a child, no history, no photographs, no friends, no family. Then, you disappeared part way through University, feared dead. You returned six months later with no recollection of where you had been and the amazing Gabriel Baal went on to Graduate with honours anyway."
Gabriel smiled, his hand starting to throb from the pressure of the shake.
"I took a personal interest in your case, Gabriel. I did some deep, deep digging and I found out some truths about you. I know… Gabriel. I know who and what you really are. I know what The Father thinks you’re doing for him – but I know what you are. Yet I can’t say a word. If I do, I’ll be cast out as a liar and a traitor because I can’t prove anything."
The smile became a grin – yet Baal was unnerved by Michael’s unyielding confidence.
"So here we are – at an impasse. All I can do is suggest that you stay as far away from this council as you can – do your job. Better still, leave that to Uriel as he was supposed to be sat in your seat, before you came along. Stay away, and I may let you live."
Gabriel let out a burst of laughter.
"You can’t hurt me, Michael. You may be our problem solver, but you wouldn’t risk…"
"This Order is more important than me, Gabriel – more important than my life. If I have to protect it with my blood I will. If you come back, if you show your face again I will kill you – I swear it."
Michael turned to walk away before stopping and looking back.
"And keep him away from The Father – or I will kill for that too."
Gabriel knew the answer to his next question, before unclenching his jaw.
"Keep who away?"
Michael turned his head, showing Baal that he knew the game that was being played.
"Quentin Barnes."
Walking around the office, Barnes is clearly distressed – mixed between pain, and anger, between relief and confusion. His breathing is heavy, his head is hung.
"Why didn’t you fuckin’ come to me, man? I would have had a choice."
"I’m not to proud to admit that I was a afraid, Quentin. Michael was a man with hellacious resources and a devote believe in The Order – I had no reason to doubt that he would risk his own life to end mine. The Father would never have agreed to meet you without my presence, and I would not return to London, nor would I visit our meeting place here whilst Michael hung this threat over my head – not until I had the requisite protection. It took me five years to find Solomon."
Barnes shook his head.
"I could have protected you. I would have."
"Please, Quentin – you didn’t even know me. Why would you protect me in exchange for without reason? Make no mistake, I would not have given you what I knew – why give up what little leverage I had over everyone involved. Once you knew, then there would be no need for the middle man. I wasn’t even sure I could trust your father. For all I knew, Mr. Barnes, my destiny was to lie at the bottom of the Hudson River once I had convinced you to visit your father."
"So you were never going to tell me? You were never going to keep your promise?"
Gabriel smiled, with his head tilted much like he always did.
"Of course I was – but only when I had surplanted him as The Father. I was to take his seat and then give him everything he’d ever wanted – both of his sons. Two men he could be proud of, take care of. A family. But fear prevented me from doing that, Quentin – you have to see the power of fear."
Barnes stopped for a moment and looked Baal in the face – he saw something in those eyes that was different to the anger of earlier – he saw a dawning of something new.
"Fear is but a word, Mr. Barnes – I can see that now. Even when Fear embodies a man – like Phrixus Deimos. Fear, as you once said, can make you strong as it keeps you careful. It keeps you alert. It keeps you on the edge of your very seat. But fear can also stunt, Mr. Barnes. That is what I’ve learnt – Fear is not power, fear is a shade. For me, Michael taught me that fear can prevent progression, but your Father taught me that true power can force progression where before there was naught."
Gabriel walked towards Barnes, and extended his hand onto Barnes shoulder.
"Phear is but a shadow – he prevents those he faces from moving forward. He stops them in their path because he embodies everything that fear is – but to me, Fear is nothing. Not compared to control - to power. Fear merely shows a man his true self, power can manipulate that self into anything you want. People do not fear me because I’m terrifying, people fear me because of what I can make them do."
"Is that what I’m here for, Baal? Do you plan on making me accept your agreement?"
"I plan on showing you that the fear you have in accepting my agreement is nothing compared to the power you will have when you do. Those who join me progress, Mr. Barnes. Those who fear regress. Mr. Deimos is phantom, Mr. Barnes – Mr. Deimos is a lie unto himself and all who fear him. I invite Phrixus Deimos to take a look in the mirror."
August 12th 2015
"And drop! Come on! Back up… Hit the ropes. Good! Good! Now drop again! Excellent – alright that’s good, that’s enough."
Gabriel rolled out of the ring and walked to the chair on which his water bottle and towel sat. He took a long slug from the bottle, before sitting down and slowly starting to untie his boots.
"Yo, Gabe. You got a minute?"
Baal climbed to his feet and walked across the gym – he pulled the tape off from around his wrists and looked up at Riddick Andrews – his trainer in this beat up, New York Gym. The ring in which they were training was a boxing ring – it hurt. Riddick had made it clear that when he wrestled in a real ring, it would feel like fighting on an airbed compared to this old thing.
"Look, I’m heading out of town for a while. I got a few names you could look at to continue your training while I’m gone. This one’s…"
"How long will you be gone for?"
"I don’t know man – I mean, I’ve been asked to help train an old friend in Texas. I say friend… We fell out a while back but a mutual buddy said he wanted to try and patch things up so… Hey, where you going?"
Gabriel had turned and started to walk away.
"You’re of no use to me now – you’re not going to be here."
"Hey – there’s no need to be like that, man – I’ve trained you for nine months."
"And as much as I appreciate it you were well paid. I feel my training is at its end. I’ll be making my debut soon."
Riddick shook his head and started to follow Baal across the gym.
"Don’t be an ass hole, Gabe – you need to do this right. You jump in the ring with real fighters before you’re ready and you’re gonna get hurt. Look these guys up – they’re a little crazy but they own a wrestling school."
Baal’s eyes seemed to flash for a moment.
"With all due respect, Mr. Andrews, you’re no longer my coach as we’ve just discussed therefore you opinion lends no weight to this discussion. I appreciate the help you’ve given me, but you have things you have to take care of – and so have I."
Without another word, Riddick shakes his head and turns away. As he begins to walk, Gabriel looks up from his towel.
"This friend – anyone I may have heard of?"
"Probably… He’s been around a pretty long time and he’s making a come back. Keep an out for him. The name’s…"
Riddick stopped and turned to make eye contact with his former trainee.
"Quentin Barnes."
Barnes looks down at the paperwork in front of him, his eyes firing over the wording, reading it bit by bit.
"It’s the deed to a new gymnasium I’m having built just outside the city – I want you and Riddick to run I like you did in Austin. I want Riddick to coach wrestling, and I want you to help him. You’re both good… very good."
Barnes shakes his head – not quite understanding what this is all about.
"What do you really want, Baal?"
"I’ve told you my terms – I’m just showing you that I plan to abide by them. Riddick Andrews was a terrific coach – the best of Quentin Barnes came under his coaching. We didn’t end on particularly good terms. I expect you to rebuild that bridge for me."
"What makes you think I can?"
Gabriel smiles as he pulls the deed in front of him across the desk, before signing the deed.
"Because you’re friends today despite everything you’ve done to one another. He contributed to the death of your niece, he had sex with your wife and he fathered a child you believed was yours. You ended his career, and almost his life – yet now you’re “Uncle Quentin” and sharing Christmas dinner. Riddick Andrews is a testament of not giving up, even when everything you’ve seen before tells you it’s time to do just that."
Barnes looks over the signed deed again, the spaces left for Riddick and Barnes to sign… He slowly begins to close over the paperwork.
"Moss Edwards clearly has no idea when the time is right to give it up. He’s come back, a shadow of his former self. And bar a handful of appearances that have been what some might call Moss-like, but for me, when Moss Edwards stood across the ring from me at To Be Determined he was merely a man – not this enigmatic auteur of our business that I’d heard about before his return. Now the fans are looking for the man they once knew and they’re being fed this imitation. Can they forgive that? Of course – they’re morons. They’ll scream and cheer for Moss Edwards because once he was great."
Barnes seems not to be taking any of this in, however, as he once again takes a look in the direction the monitor.
"I cannot forgive Moss Edwards for what he brings to the table, Mr. Barnes. I expect nothing but the very best when a man steps into the ring with me. I am not as forgiving as you, nor am I as forgiving as Mr. Andrews. Moss Edwards will find that out at Wrestlestock. He will find out that I do not appreciate the sham that is the man that stands in that ring using the name of Moss Edwards."
Barnes reaches to a console on the top of his desk. He presses a button and the picture on the monitor changes. The image that shows, forces Barnes to lean forward. He turns to look at Baal, his eyes wide, before looking back at the screen.
"I don’t accept the lies that Moss Edwards continues to peddle as truth. I invite Moss Edwards, to take a look in the mirror."
August 28th, 2015
Gabriel’s trips to the jails within New York City were few and far between these days – his position in the community was such that he would generally be able to see patients at his office. This patient, however, was special. So mistrusted were his links on the outside, he wasn’t even allowed to be transferred under armed guard. Gabriel draped one leg over the other and sat back in his seat – the door behind him opened and the patient walked inside.
"Hey, doc."
"John."
Baal continued to write some notes, without looking up as the patient took his seat. The guard who escorted him, stands to the side.
"This is a private session – I’ll have to ask you to leave."
"No can do – warden’s orders."
"Then I’ll have to ask you to take him back to his cell."
The guard exhaled and shook his head moving towards the patient once more.
"But of course, you’re aware that by denying him his legal right to Doctor-Patient confidentiality, there would be grounds for a law suit."
"And a pretty big one too I’d guess."
Johnny Dinucci, a crime boss, a former wrestling promoter and all round bad guy, seemed to enjoy how they were making this guard squirm. A few seconds later, he’d seemed to quantify the efforts of taking Dinucci back to his cell before finding out whether or not what they were saying was true.
"Fucking ass holes."
There was no attempt to hide the jibe as he made his way out of the room and closed it behind him. As soon as he was gone, the smile of bravado seemed to die, and Dinucci looked much as pained as he’d been every time they’d met.
"I was better – I felt good, I had a chance to get out of here, but turns out I’m not as connected as I thought I was."
"Explain."
Dinucci shifted in his seat, leaning back in his seat.
"I had a visitor who had the power to get me out of here – a letter of recommendation from him and I’d have been out. But I can’t get the information he needs – first chance I have to get out and I fucking failed."
"He won’t write your recommendation either way?"
"He will – but as soon as he realises how useless I am, he’ll have no reason to keep me out of here."
Gabriel made a few notes in his pad.
"You know, I could always arrange for you to come to Angelfields – it would be comfortable, we could speak whenever you required. You would have safety, comfort. After a while, we would probably be able to arrange day passes."
Dinucci smiled and shook his head.
"No offence doc, but if I had to choose between staying at your asylum and getting out, then I’m choosing freedom. "
They share a laugh.
"Look, I’ll be at your parole hearing and I will make it clear there’s nothing that I believe that should stop you being released. I’ll do what I can."
Gabriel ran his tongue over his lips.
"What did this person want you to find out?"
Dinucci ruffled through his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.
"I needed to find out everything I could about Matthew Zale – leverage for a friend of his. Not that I’m overly enamoured with the idea of pulling that thread."
"Related to Colin Zale. I’d done some digging about Colin and found out he had a brother called Matthew. One and the same?"
Dinucci nodded, somewhat nervously.
"I may be able to get you the information you need. Wouldn’t take much digging I wouldn’t have thought."
John immediately looked suspicious.
"Helping my parole case, helping me with this information. What do you get out of this?"
"Let’s just say I have a feeling that, despite your impending freedom, we’ll meet again – and when we do you’ll remember this."
Dinucci’s suspicions seem to have been quelled somewhat.
"We’d best begin, Mr. Dinucci, or you state paid time will be spent. But before we do – can I ask. Who is it that’s going to write this letter? Who wants this information?"
Dinucci shifts again in his seat, unsure as to whether to answer – in the end, the demons shout down the better angels in his head.
"Quentin Barnes."
"I told Mr. Dinucci we would see one another again."
Barnes stares at the monitor to see Dinucci, sat at a table, his hands cuffed staring at state police, guarding him in the room.
"His future is in your hands Mr. Barnes – I’ve offered you the positives. I’ve given you the chance to accept my agreement in exchange for everything I have offered you thus far. Now you have a straight forward choice – you accept my agreement, and Mr. Dinucci lives out his sentence in comfort, safety and security – he will be given all of the freedoms any other man in my care could have. Or you refuse my agreement, and you will never see him again – he will be buried in my secure ward, never again to see the light of day."
Barnes looks up, that bitter resentment showing again.
"I need a mentor, Mr. Barnes – and I’ve chosen you. I want you to guide me to the greatness that I am destined for. If you agree, then John will as close to free as he will ever get."
Barnes looks away, at the monitor, at Dinucci grinning at the police in attendance.
"Unless you realise what could be the truth? That the old Dinucci could well be just under that surface that he’s showing to the outside world. Could he still be that lying deceitful, hateful, arrogant monster that hurt your friends, that stole your company… That had men douse you with acid. You see the very best liars, can convince their enemies that they’ve changed. They can show the face a world, and even those who loathed them the most believe that there is something different inside. That is a genuinely difficult ask, and one that I dare never attempt – but some are capable. Is Johnny Dinucci one of them?"
Barnes looks defeated – his head is hung, his elbows rested on his knees.
"The same could be asked of Eden Morgan – are you as blind with her as you could be with him? I’ve seen patients like her before – those who realise that the only way to truly escape their captivity is to tell their captors what they want. Did Dinucci tell you what you needed to hear to gain his freedom? Did Eden Morgan tell her doctors what they want to hear so she would be released? Is she, even now, staring into the eyes of another one of the many she crossed and telling them how truly sorry she is?"
Baal yet again moves closer to Barnes and puts a caring hand on his shoulder.
"Has she convinced them all Quentin? Even you? The cynic inside of me, it’s screaming that no good girl can go that bad and come back from it. No-one could do the things she’s done and then turn their whole world on it’s head. Perhaps that sweet and innocent world that your old friend once trained was already hiding the truth of what she really was. A beautiful banshee, a gorgeous gorgon, a hellacious harpy? Could it be that the lovely young Eden was always the manipulative shrew? I know you have doubt, Mr. Barnes, because you’ve seen too much in this world to believe that kind of story. She’s no different to all the rest – deceit in Dolce."
Barnes shakes his head, as if trying to rid his mind of the things Gabriel was saying – but still he sat, and still he listened.
"Eden Morgan is no more saint than you or I, Mr. Barnes. We just accept what we are and move on – I know what I am. And I’m happy to admit that – but like so many, Ms. Morgan has fallen prey to the notion that she can transcend what she is. She cannot – and when she falls, she will fall hard. She will get the end she so craved at the hands of Colin Zale, and as I offered all those months ago I will be here to offer her help. Because that is what I do, Mr. Barnes. I help. But for now, I invite Ms. Morgan to take a look in the mirror."
Baal reaches across his desk and turns off the monitor.
"And now, Mr. Barnes, is the moment I know you’ve been waiting for. I offer you help you’re your brother, the truth about your past and your family, a new start for you and your friend Riddick and way out for Johnny Dinucci. In exchange I ask for your mentorship, Riddick’s training and the remanence of your purse now that you’re essentially retired. Should you refuse, then it’s simple – your brother will remain here, in what condition? You will never know. You will learn nothing of where you’ve come from. I will burn that gym to the ground and I will leave Johnny Dinucci rotting in box in my basement."
Baal smiled with only half of his mouth – sneer of unimaginable victory. Either way, Quentin Barnes would lose. Barnes would fight, Baal knew… He would kick and scream, he would curse and storm but in the end he would…
"I accept."
The words came from Barnes lips, but they were hollow and defeated. This had not been what Gabriel had expected – Barnes looked up slowly, and they made eye contact. Everything he’d seen, everything he’d heard… It had been too much.
"I accept."
Gabriel stepped back – a false grin crossing his lips. Had he gone too far? Had he done too much… Or was this the man Quentin Barnes truly was? Broken and defeated by a life that had done more damage than wrestling ever had.
"Thank you – I promise, this will be something wonderful."
"Go fuck yourself."
And there it was – the final act of defiance. And all was right with the world.
