Post by Gabriel Baal on Sept 24, 2016 14:30:49 GMT -5
Gabriel didn’t drink – it wasn’t a rule per se but it was certainly happenstance. Days, weeks, months would go by without him touching a drop. He didn’t have a problem, nor did he have a vague recollection of someone close to him doing bad things when “tanked up”. He just preferred his life to be as clear and simple as possible. Alcohol was clouding. Alcohol caused bad decisions, and he was making enough of those without the added impetus of liquor.
Or at least, so he’d thought.
He’d started to drink hours ago – maybe minutes, he couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t much, not by a long shot, but he’d drank nonetheless. This was a paint by numbers situation – fill glass, drink until empty and repeat. Yet no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t seem to get drunk. It was odd – he was sure he’d emptied the bottle on more than one occasion, yet here it was still half full. Here was the glass, still amber with scotch.
"You know, it’s bad form to drink alone compadre."
Gabriel lifted his head, for the first time noticing that his vision was a little blurry. He blinked away the fog, bringing Jason Ingalls into sharp relief. Jason Ingalls? In his office? Without so much as an introduction. He sat across the desk, a sarcastic grin on his face. He was leant back in the chair, his legs spread in a way that was supposed to exude confidence, but did little more than display a misplaced arrogance.
"I could think of a thousand names I would choose to drink with before you."
Ingall’s smile refused to fade – he just continued to stare with those beady eyes.
"You mind?"
He pointed at the bottle, and reached out without waiting for an answer. He didn’t know why, but Gabriel did nothing to stop him. Jason slowly poured out the scotch, all the time keeping eye contact with Baal. The Seventh Circle ran his tongue across his teeth, trying to keep the scorn off his face. He was failing miserably.
"What are you doing here, Jason?"
"I figured we should meet up, you know, before Outlast? Before I systematically dismantle you, brother. Before I show the world the truth about Gabriel Baal."
It was Gabriel’s turn to smile now – Jason Ingalls had finally located his balls.
"And what truth is that, Mr. Ingalls?"
Jase searched Baal with a look – for some reason, it unnerved him. He couldn’t understand why this man could ever come close to breaching his core. Yet here he was, slowly allowing himself to fear what he would say.
"You and me – we’ve fought before, Gabe. You think you’re hot shit, but you’re not. The truth about you is pretty simple – you talk strong, but your game is weak. And before you toss in my direction that you beat me, so what? You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. You’re smoke and mirrors. You talk like you’re the guy everyone should fear – you don’t know what intimidation is. You’re no Mickey fucking Dragon. You’re not even Fear. Fuck man – you’re not even Alex Stein. You’re a guy in a suit, who’s great at talking but better at losing."
He fought the need to laugh – this was what Jason Ingalls had? Insults and threats. He fought and fought, but still something burrowed deep inside him – Ingalls hadn’t finished.
"You’re a fraud Baal – a charlatan. I know everything, and I could end your little game in a second. I know about Hugh, I know about Eden, I know what you’re planning and I can bring your whole world crashing down around your ears. That’s the truth… Baal. You’re not in control of this, I am… And no matter what happens at Outlast, I’ll still be in control. You want Chaos, you fucking prick? I’ll bring you Chaos."
He wasn’t sure how, or why… He wasn’t sure what made him do it – it felt almost as if he was floating above his own body. Like he watched the entire thing happen before his eyes. He took a moment, rolling the glass in his hand in his fingers before throwing the scotch in Jason’s eyes. He coughed, and spluttered but that didn’t drown out the sound of shattering glass. He slowly walked around the desk and waited – waited for Jason to wipe away the burn of the alcohol. Ingalls slowly looked up, before realising that Baal was stood over him.
And then came the blood – hot, crimson spurts of blood. He pulled back the glass and felt it jar from the deep gash in Jason’s throat. Ingalls began to cough and splutter, trying to hold in the very life that was slowly seeping down his white t-shirt. Gabriel sat back, leaning against his desk, a satisfied smile upon his face.
"You think you know everything, Mr. Ingalls. That’s always been my problem with you – your ability to overreach. In case I didn’t make it abundantly clear the last time we faced, I don’t like you. I don’t like what you are or what you do. You’re not the only one who knows things – I know what you did to Eden in her brothers office. How exactly do you think Cypress or Chaos or any of those horrendous Bikers would have reacted if they’d known? But they didn’t, because I know how to keep my mouth shut."
Gabriel tilted his head staring down into the wide, terrified eyes of what would have been one of his four opponents at Outlast.
"I prefer to deal with things my own way – no threats of revealing secrets, no faux acts of bravado. I will call you out on what you’ve done and I will punish you for it. You, Jase, have become a liability. You, Jase, have become a thorn I can no longer ignore. Fifteen minutes ago, you were an opponent over which I was required to step. Now, my friend, you’re an obstacle that I have removed – I’d love to say it wasn’t personal. But I cannot."
Baal pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his fingers – it had already started to congeal on his skin. He would need some Purell.
"I’m not known for doing the sensible thing, Gabriel, but this would be somewhat fucked up even for me."
Gabriel wasn’t shocked to hear the voice – in fact, he felt almost like he’d been expecting it. Like it had always been there, whispering in his ear. Baal turned around to face the source of the conversation.
"I mean – killing one of your opponents just a few days before Outlast? That’s got to be a step too far."
"I believe you dug up a body last year."
Ichabod let out a chuckle, before looking up at the ceiling.
"Yeah – the good old days."
"So you can understand if I don’t take your advice about what is and what isn’t sensible."
"I dug up a body – I didn’t cause one. It’s hard work, digging up a body, but likely not as difficult as it would be to bury one."
Gabriel was starting to feel a little irked – here he was with a dead body in his office, and all Ichabod could do was make jokes.
"Do you think anyone will miss him?"
"I know I won’t, fucking choad. But when he doesn’t turn up on Monday night, I figure people are going to ask questions. Questions lead to investigations. I know you’re hot shit in this town, but I can’t see you managing to kill off all the CCTV that shows him getting here and never leaving."
This, Gabriel knew, was correct – this would be problematic. Jason Ingalls may not be liked in the wider world, but there would be questions.
"Forgetting, for a moment, your impending doom – I have to give you props."
"Really?"
He tried to avoid sounding snarky. He failed. Thankfully, Ichabod seemed not to mind – in fact, he smiled.
"Yes – really. When you arrived in UGWC you seemed willing and able to do whatever you had to. You seemed determined to destroy the established order. You focused on Alan Wallace, Travis Roberts, Eden Morgan – the so-called Elite here in UGWC. I enjoyed watching that. Whilst it was a happy coincidence that I wanted to protect Holden from your prying, I also knew that we could do some important work together. Yet since we agreed to align, your intentions have been clouded. Strike that. You’ve been acting like a choad. Sulking over Eden, picking fights with anyone with a tweeter handle..."
"Twitter…"
"Whatever… You seemed to have strayed from your purpose. You seemed to have lost your ability to dig deep and do whatever you had to do to upset the balance. And now here you are, with blood on your hands and a body in your office. It finally feels like you’re back to who you were always meant to be."
Gabriel turned to look at Jason again, as his hand dropped limply to his side.
"And who is that?"
"Gabriel fucking Baal."
He turned his head and smiled, yet Ichabod was gone – just he’d arrived.
The gymnasium at Angelfields wasn’t a part of the original design – which is why the pool was some way across the facility. It had been added after and in truth, was rarely used by anyone other than Gabriel and his more upmarket clientele. Recent accusations, although unfounded, had caused a somewhat dry spell as it concerned privately paying patients. Despite the obvious fiscal issues, it also meant that Gabriel Baal had one of the best equipped private Gymnasiums in the state. He divided his day between early morning cardio and weight sessions and evenings spent sparring with his coach, Riddick.
Now, though, he just found himself taking in the air of the place. The ring, in the centre, could be used for boxing, MMA, wrestling – it had seen the most use of anything else in here. The stains of sweat and blood tinged the air with the kind of smell that was unique to this kind of place. He’d had musicians, actors, politicians – all sorts really – spend their recovery time sparring with either one of his own fitness guru’s or someone brought in from the outside.
Gabe’s wrestling education had started outside of Angelfields, at a school just outside of Chinatown. Riddick had been his coach and his mentor before he’d suddenly upped sticks and head on down to help out Quentin in Texas. Gabriel’s typical reaction had been to cut the guy out of his life – they hadn’t spoken again until Barnes had reintroduced them a couple of months earlier. Now they were thick as thieves all over again – only here, instead of downtown.
"Self-monologue went out with Geocities mate. You planning on getting in here or you gonna stand around musing about how bitter and twisted you are."
Baal looked towards the ring, which had been empty a moment ago, to see the figure of a man silhouetted against the lighting behind him. Gabriel stepped forward, holding up his hand to shield himself from the light. He moved around, rather than straight forward, the light now pouring across the face looking back at him. Jordan King… The Cyclone… In full wrestling attire, waiting to spar.
"You’re not getting in? You could do with the practice mate – you’re pretty good in a group, but when you’re one on one you don’t seem to have what it takes."
Continuing his long walk around the ring, Gabriel merely stared into the ring, a somewhat fixed smirk upon his upturned face.
"At the very least, give me the chance to beat some respect into you, mate. You know why I came back? Because men like you are what’s wrong with this business today – no respect for what came before, no willingness to give the required props to anyone who give up everything, fighting to give you the chance to do what you do in that ring. If it wasn’t for Moss Edwards, there would be no Gabriel Baal – that’s the truth I want to beat into you."
He didn’t answer – just watched in amusement. He enjoyed JK’s frustration. He enjoyed JK’s anger – it was why he did what he did. For the reaction. JK walked towards him now, leaning on the top rope looking down.
"Yet here you are – cowering in your palace, just waiting to hide behind better men in the hope that you’ll ride their coat tails into the Main Event – all in the hope that you’ll be able to scheme and snide your way to a World Heavyweight Title – but what then? Then you’re all alone – no Rogan to hide behind. No Killian to carry you. No Larry to drag you through. You’ll stand across from someone better than you and you’ll fail. And you’ll fail. And you’ll fail some more mate."
Gabriel turned away now – walking around the ring still, yet now not even meeting JK’s gaze. He just walked, whilst JK called at him, over and over again.
"Here we go again – a lack of respect. Hey… Hey Baal, I’m talking to you mate."
JK pulled down the ropes and slowly climbed out of the ring. He jumped from the apron down to the mat, but didn’t immediately follow. He called again, but Baal just continued to walk.
"You know the truth, Baal? You won’t make it past Qualifying – you know why? Because Eden Morgan is better than you are, because Mil Vidas is better than you are, because Jason Ingalls is better than you are and most of all, because I’m better than you are. I’m looking forward to being the one who beats some respect into you mate, and it’s going to be one hell of a ride…"
JK had made the mistake of following Gabriel across the room – he wasn’t far behind now. Gabriel stopped, and JK did the same. Almost instinctively, Gabriel stretched out his hand and gripped a steel dumb bell. He lifted it up into the air and turned – the momentum of the turn and the swing of his arm brought the weight up into JK’s lower jaw. The crack of bone split the air and JK fell backwards to the ground hard.
"Finally, I’ve found a way to stop you talking."
Gabriel slowly advanced upon JK who had fallen ten to eleven feet away from where Baal had stood. He was moving, but only slightly.
"The Cyclone – that’s what they call you. But the truth is that you’re nothing more than bluster. The only remotely destructive thing about you is your inability to step out of the spotlight and allow those who devote their lives to this cause to take centre stage. The only thing remotely impactful about you, Jordan, is the effect you have upon those for whom you claim to have forged a path for. Not because of your skills or capabilities in the ring, but because you take the spot of someone who truly deserves a chance."
Gabriel begins to advance upon JK who stirs now, slowly blinking some life back to his eyes. He looks up and realization begins to dawn.
"Moss Edwards returned from the abyss, and spent months merely taking up space – then he decides to retire and finally it appears that he’ll be making way for a new name. Yet the choices for his final opponent were who? Jet Somers – hardly a man in need of the boost of retiring a former World Champion. Ezekiel Pax, a man who – like Moss – returned from the past to offer tribute to the retiring hero… And you… JK… The man so renowned for his moth-like tendencies to find the spotlight. There was a chance, Jordan… A chance for Rogan MacLean, for Killian King, for Ichabod – for anyone to cement a legacy by being the final man to face Moss Edwards, such as he was, yet you unyielding cling on’s couldn’t help but beat your drum."
King began to clumsily scuttle backwards, trying to pull himself out of harms way – it was moot. There would be no escaping Baal, should he strike. Yet JK had to try, he had to at least summon the courage to try – Gabriel understood that.
"We’ve been over your reasons, Jordan. I’m not going to tell you what you already know, so how about something you don’t. Rogan and I made an example of Moss Edwards because he was there. Had he fallen, it would have been Jet Somers, or Eziquel Pax… Or even you. Of course, we had hoped it would be Moss – that would allow Rogan to play his little game. He wanted Moss Edwards to be his target demographic. But I didn’t care – and I still don’t. My only regret is that we stopped where we did – we should have made sure Moss Edwards had no choice but to stay retired. We should have dragged you and Pax out there and made sure that you couldn’t raise your beastly self-centred heads again. We should have ended each of you, one by one, until we could be sure there would be no coming back."
Gabriel lifted the dumbbell again, JK lifted his hands to shield himself for what it was worth. Yet the blow never came – JK’s eyes opened to find a figure stood between them. Baal too had been surprised when this newcomer had stepped between them.
"Where exactly did you come from?"
"Been here the whole time"
Gabriel tilts his head, doing his best not to be amused at Larry, the Conquerer of Pain, the Protégé of Planets… Or something like that… Stood between himself and Jordan King.
"What do you want, Larry?"
"I think I’m here to stop you from making a huge mistake, Baal. I don’t like you – I don’t have to. But I know a mistake when I see one."
"I take it you’ve been looking in the mirror?"
Larry smiles and sidesteps as Baal looks to walk around him.
"Jokes about my parents – original. You can insult me all you like, but that won’t change the fact that you’re about to do something that you’re going to regret for the rest of your life."
Baal stands, his eyes rolling backwards to show his distain.
"What do you know about regret, Larry?"
"I know I disowned my godfather – who I may never speak to again. I know I turned my back on my family. I know I followed a man who never really cared about me. I know I’ve wasted months of my career licking my wounds. I know that if you go ahead with this, you’ll never be able to come back from it."
Gabriel’s frustration had started to boil over now – he was pacing now. Behind Larry, JK was still trying to pull himself away. But he had nowhere to go – Gabriel knew that. He couldn’t escape – which was why he allowed Larry to distract him.
"Understand this, Larry – you’re my team mate at Outlast. You’re not my friend. You’re not my friend, you’re not my ally, you’re not my confidante. You’re a man who was chosen, much like me, yet you weren’t the first draft pick, you weren’t the second option – you were the only option. Now I suggest, if you want to make it to Outlast, you step away and allow what will be… To be."
Larry shook his head for a second as Baal walked past towards the cowering JK. Baal stood, hard, on JK’s foot refusing to allow him to move.
"Gabriel – you can’t do this and do what you want. Trust me when I tell you, that the choices we make are more important than the perception they cause."
Baal stopped and slowly turned towards Larry with a thoughtful look.
"Larry – I’ll take my chances."
He turned and swung the dumbbell again – the crunch was sickening – and JK didn’t move again.
He wasn’t a hundred percent sure how he’d reached Patient Zero’s new quarters. But he had the bottle, and for some reason that was all that seemed to matter. His hands were clean now, which led him to believe that the smell of alcohol was as much from the Purell as it was his breath. Patient Zero… or Daniel as he was known to some had been Gabriel's first case study. Everyone remembered their first… Gabriel was lucky he’d been able to keep him around. A testament to his good work over the years. There had been a preference, where Gabriel had been concerned, to keep Patient Zero close. That was why he’d had the vault built. Originally designed as a panic room, to protect him from violent outbreaks, it had become Patient Zero’s permanent home.
And then Eden Morgan came along.
Still, there would be time for that later – for now he wanted to visit his oldest friend. He felt he had something he needed to get off his chest and a trip down memory lane would likely help him to find the words he needed to say. He placed his hand upon the biometric scanner and waited. Yet nothing happened – in fact, there was nothing too happen. There were no lights, no sensors… Nothing. He pressed his hand against the door and pushed – it opened with ease.
For a moment he hesitated – what was going on? This room should be secure at all times – if it wasn’t, that meant that someone didn’t want it to be. If it wasn’t, then it meant that whatever was behind this door could strike at any moment. He took a deep breath and pushed – the door swung open into darkness. This was some hammer horror scenario – walking into a pitch black room. Pricks didn’t very often come out of these situations faring well – and he was definitely a prick.
"Hello?"
Why did people do that? Why when faced with an unknown danger do they call out “hello” as if whatever was in there would call back. “Don’t worry friend, I’m not going to hurt you… Just come on in to my dark world.”. Nothing answered. Gabriel moved forward into the room, and began searching for the light switch. He felt the notch on the wall and flicked it, the room being thrown into light.
"Boo!"
Gabriel staggered backwards and tripped over a chair, falling hard and hitting his head on the ground. The room swam in front of him. He looked up into the brightly coloured face of whatever had been waiting for him. The figure was laughing now, as it sauntered around the room.
"You scare easily, amigo."
Baal blinked again, finally realising just who his guest was – Mil Vidas. He looked the luchadore up and down before casting his eye to the upright bed to which Patient Zero should now be strapped. It was empty.
"Do not worry about your friend, essay – he is safe. Which is more than I can say for you."
Baal did his best not to laugh – Vidas’ confidence was misplaced. Baal pushed himself up and back against the wall, his lip turning into a sneer. He opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off.
"This Monday, I finally take my revenge – I take away from you, that which you desire most. This Monday, I take away the opportunity for you and your friend to – what is it you say – bring change to the established order. I’ve waited, Gabriel – I’ve waited for this chance, for this opportunity to get my revenge for what happened the week after Wrestlestock. I’ve waited for the opportunity to get my hands on the two of you and show you what a mistake you made."
Baal reached up and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, before resting his elbow on his bent knee. Vidas was staring him down now, as if waiting for a response. Baal merely waved his upturned palm at him – “come on… What else have you got to say?” Vidas’ reaction was hidden behind his mask – all but for the smile.
"You realise that this team was created for a single purpose, essay? Su derrota. La destrucción de usted y su amigo. It was everything I had hoped for and more – Eden Morgan, with whom you have played games for months. Jordan King, who felt the bitter taste of your treachery whilst watching his friend fall at your hands. Jason Ingalls – taunted and humiliated at your expense. We may not be the most decorated team in history, but we have a purpose. Stand in your way and block your path."
Vidas slowly moved backwards until his back was against the bed upon which Patient Zero had spent most of his life.
"We have your number, Dr. Baal – we have everything that it takes to stop you and I will take pleasure in doing so. This time, your world will fall, and it will be you who is strapped to this bed. Hasta el lunes"
Vidas’ smile was fixed for a second – Gabriel’s finger was still pressed to a button on the underside of the desk to which he sat adjacent. Vidas couldn’t stop smiling, because his muscles had contracted and paralysed him. The bed, upon which Patient Zero spent so much of his life, had been electrified in order to prevent him from lashing out at patients. Of course Mil Vidas wouldn’t know this – how could he? At least… He didn’t know it until now.
Gabriel hopped to his feet and released the button – Vidas started to slowly slump but Baal reached him in time and held him up, pushing him back against the bed. A few seconds later, the restraints were tied and Vidas was now restricted to the bed. The electricity had taken it’s toll, but Vidas slowly came too. Baal pulled up a chair and took a seat and pulled off his jacket.
"Do you know the hours I’ve spent in front of this bed talking? I couldn’t imagine – I would suggest I’ve spent more hours with the resident of that bed than I have with anyone else in my life. The reason I enjoy it so much is that my friend, as you so eloquently called him, didn’t speak all that much. In fact, that was the only thing I really liked about you – I figure your attempts at intimidation this evening are the reason you don’t talk much. It’s not within you to muster even the merest sense of fear in those you’re addressing. You’re less than a threat – Vidas. You’re a moron."
Baal stood up, stepped forward and placed his hand against the mask – it was intricately beautiful in it’s design. In his time studying professional wrestling, he’d skipped over lucha culture – a mistake, he’d been told on more than one occasion. Looking now at the care and attention that had been paid to a mask created for a talent as mediocre as Mil Vidas Jnr. he had to admit that perhaps, that assessment had been correct.
"You think this team has been created to destroy us – well let me enlighten you… Amigo. Eden Morgan is, at all times, walking a tightrope between the woman she is and the woman she wants to be. That’s not that it doesn’t make her dangerous – it does, but it also means that she’s a second away from caring about nothing other than herself. I can relate to that, so it doesn’t concern me – but if you think she’ll give up what she wants to bring myself and Rogan down then you’re sadly mistaken.
Baal smiled and slapped Vidas gently on the cheek.
"I can promise you, Vidas – the rest of your team are not a threat. You have nothing – nothing but this idea that Outlast is the moment you’ve been waiting for to take your revenge. That Outlast is the very moment you’ve had to get to in order to take revenge on myself and Rogan for what we did to you. Christ man, we’ve been in the same building every week for the past two months and you’ve done nothing to make us pay. What is it about Outlast that’s so special? Because you’ve been placed into a match against Rogan and I? If that’s what you’ve been waiting for, Vidas – then your honour is going to cost you."
Vidas wasn’t talking now – he was merely struggling and fighting to find a way out of the restraints.
"I said it before – I have no problem with you. I don’t believe Rogan had any problem with you that taking your Chaos Championship didn’t solve. The facts are plain and clear, you were the wrong man, in the wrong place at the wrong time – you were caught up in a plan that Rogan and I hatched together and now you feel scorned. But not enough to reach down and find your testicles. Yes you had to wait for permission to take your revenge. We, on the other hand, await no-ones permission. We will take what we want, when we want, how we want. We are the agents of disorder, we are the soldiers of anarchy, we are the Engine of Chaos…"
Baal found himself now, with his fingers over that button once more. He could feel Vidas’ fearing stare burning into the back of his head.
"Do you plan on stepping in at any time or…"
Gabriel turned his head, enough to view the chair upon which he’d sat earlier.
"Not me fella, I’m all for this. Kill the prick."
Rogan MacLean had taken audience right in front of Vidas, staring up at the luchadore with a smile on his face.
"I assumed you were here to talk me out of some inhuman mistake that would cost me my very future?"
"No lad – I’m here to watch you flick that switch. I need to know you buy into this Chaos stuff, before I do. We’ve had some problems the last month, fella, but if you flick that switch I know you’re in – balls deep."
Gabriel smiled and nodded. He flicked the switch and turned to face the room at large – Vidas began to twitch uncontrollably – there was the faint smell of burning flesh. His cries were stifled, and his mouth began to foam.
"Now this is the Gabriel Baal that Sid Griffith’s told me about – willing to do whatever it takes, whenever it’s required. This is the man that Sid told me would help to change the very face of UGWC. This is the man that I signed up with – not that Eden Morgan chasing, title losing, kiss-ass that I’ve had to deal with for the last month. This is the beginning, man – this is the very start of everything."
Vidas twitching slowed until it stopped – the foam was running down his chin now, his fingers were blackened with the effects of the electrocution.
"Let Chaos ensue…"
He heard splashing from the pool – and rubbed his face. He was tired – so very tired. It had been a long, long night and he could feel it was far from over. The glass roof allowed the moonlight to shine down into the dark pool, causing spectacular ripples of light to move over the surface. The pool wasn’t still, because there was someone in it. He could see from the doorway that they were swimming lengths – one after one, over and over – all he could tell was that the shapely form was female. He took a deep breath before walking inside.
"Beautiful night for a moonlight swim."
The woman in the pool had stopped momentarily, pulling herself up so that her arms were holding her against the side.
"Big place you’ve got here – I can see why the police didn’t find anything. Would take them, what? A month to search everywhere."
"Two, I would suspect."
"You really have got your bases covered haven’t you Gabriel?"
Baal smiled down at the stunningly beautiful face of Eden Morgan – some women had a knack of looking fantastic when coming out of a pool and she was one of them. She pulled herself out and patted off her one piece swimsuit with a towel by Gabriel’s side. She wrapped it around herself and sat down next to Baal.
"What are we doing, Gabrel? What’s this game all about?"
"No game, my dear – you know what I want from you. That’s never changed – say the word and you and I will rule this place with an iron fist. You just need to let go."
She smiled, but not kindly. She was almost pitying.
"Do your new friends know that you’d drop them in a second if I agreed? Do they know that you’d probably target them because they’d be a threat to us. Do they know that your black heart belongs to no-one but you, and that you’ll turn your back on them as soon as it is convenient?"
"They do – because they would do very same to me. It’s the nature of Chaos, Eden – nothing is for certain."
She slapped his leg mockingly. An unsaid “Sure, whatever you say.” Crossing her as she climbs to her feet.
"I don’t like you Gabriel – you know that. I don’t know why you persist with this continued campaign. Friends, partners, colleagues… I don’t care what you think you want, but it’s not going to happen. You’re vile, you’re cruel and you’ve done nothing but torment me since the moment I’ve come back. Well I won, Gabriel. You threw every last thing you had at me and I beat you. You fucking drugged me, and I beat you. You savaged me in that match, Gabriel, and I beat you. I have nothing left to prove to you – so stop trying to make me. Otherwise I’m going to have to do something about it."
Baal smiled. She stood up and walked way. If she’d left it there, he’d probably have let her go. He’d probably have watched her leave and moved on to whatever else the gods of chaos had in store for him on this night. But she didn't... Because Eden.
"You know what, Gabriel. Despite everything you’ve done to me, I’m still better placed than you. Sure, I lost to Fear but it took you and your cult of chaos fucks to distract me in order to make that happen. Well you know what? This Monday, I’m going to beat you, I’m going to beat Rogan and I’m going to beat Larry and I’m going to beat Killian Fucking King… Then the four of you can sit backstage and lick your wounds while I go on and beat whoever else gets through to the Main Event. This year, Outlast is MY event. I don’t care what the event is called, Sin City is my city – Gabriel. Don’t think for one second you’ll be able to do a damn thing to stop me."
He climbed to his feet, and walked towards her – even then. In that moment, he could have just let her go – but she slapped him. A full, open hand slap that caused the world to turn black.
"Baal – what the fuck are you doing? Baal!"
It was if someone had flicked on a light. He took a moment to shake his head, bringing himself back to his current situation. He looked to his right, a figure was stood behind the closed gates to the pool – locked at all times to ensure patients couldn’t just wander in.
"Sh… Shut up…"
"Oi, you fucking nutter – open this gate now!"
"I said shut up Killian!"
King rattled the gate, over and over again. Baal slowly turned on the spot, and he could see now what Killian had been shouting about. Eden was strapped to a hand truck, her arms and legs bound and her mouth gagged. She faced inwards, her back to the pool. There were weights attached to it, and the only thing stopping her falling backwards into the water were two ropes – one tied to each handle. In Baal’s hand was a knife… He quickly realised what had been about to happen.
"I’m so tired of this, Eden… I really am."
He sat down, on one of the benches.
"You and I have been dancing this dance for months now – and we’re no better off. You don’t believe what I tell you, so I get angry and do something regretful… Then you hate me, and I do something less regretful. Then you hate me less, before you make it clear you don’t believe me and the cycle begins again."
"Baal please… Don’t do this."
He nonchalantly waved his hand at Killian.
"But you’re good at cycles – it’s what you do best. You convince yourself that you’re good enough to do this alone – you convince the world, that you’re good enough to do this alone. You convince your opponents that you’re good enough to do this alone and then you do! You win the World Title at Sin City… Alone… You Win the Cross Hemisphere title from me… Alone. You shock the world and make them see that Eden Morgan is a force to be reckoned with and then? You fail… Alone. Precious Killian last year, Fear this… It’s almost like, once you’ve made your point you don’t care anymore. You beat Alan Wallace… You beat Gabriel Baal. You’ve proved everything you needed to prove."
"Open the fucking gate mate. Now!"
"And here you are, all over again… Perpetuating the cycle. You may well walk into Outlast and prove your point that you don’t need Killian… That you can beat me, that you can beat Rogan. You might have that fire and that determination to take that step that you need to take to prove the naysayers wrong… And then you’ll walk into the Main Event and you’ll lose. Why? Because Travis Roberts hasn’t given you a reason to beat him. Because no-one else who could get to that final will have given you a reason to beat them. That’s what you need Eden… The motivation. I give you that motivation… You’re welcome."
Killian rattled the gate over and over - he backed up and tried to kick at the lock. It was no use, the gate was going nowhere.
"I’m gonna break your legs when I get in there Baal, I swear to god."
"BE QUIET!"
Baal screamed at Killian who sneered and shook the gates more violently.
"We have to break the cycle Eden – we have to break it. That I what the Engine of Chaos is all about – breaking the cycle. Removing conformity. Releasing the slaves from their shackles and allowing them to see that change is not only for the best, but it is… Inevitable. One way or another we have to break the chain – and it starts with you."
He leans forward and places his lips upon her forehead. Her eyes widen in horror.
"Don’t do this, Baal – don’t do this. This is not something you want to live with. You don’t want to hurt her – she’s done nothing! She’s done nothing!"
"I’m sorry."
Gabriel swipes up with the knife and cuts the ropes. The truck, unable to support it’s own weight, tumbles backwards into the pool. Almost immediately, Baal strides towards Killian.
"What the f…"
"She has about sixty seconds before she passes out so I suggest you listen carefully. You’re better than standing in the shadow of Alan Wallace, you’re better than being Eden Morgan’s puppet. You’re better than playing jester to the whims of those you defeated last year. Embrace the Chaos Killian King – take it into your heart and allow it to take you to places that you could only dream of. Think fast – take your revenge or try to play the hero. What will it be?"
Baal turns the key and unlocks the gate – for a moment Killian looks like he wants to strike, but sensing the urgency he merely moves towards the pool. Baal slips out, not waiting to find out just how this story plays out.
The meeting rooms at Angelfields had been created for those times where his office just wouldn’t do – this was rare. So rare that the rooms had been sparingly used over the years – in fact, they were generally only used for business involving the Order of the Inferno. There were times where Gabriel used it as a place of solace – there were no windows and the doors locked from the inside. He could relax in here – he could be at peace.
"Typical…"
Baal let out a groan as he closed the door behind him and locked it. He pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning back to match the nonchalant poise of his visitor. The UGWC World Heavyweight Champion, The Blessed One, The Headliner, The TWiSTeD… You get the picture… Travis Roberts sat with his feet up on the desk in front of him.
"Ain’t nothing typical about the Blessed One, Gabriel, you should know that by now."
"All I know, Travis, is that you’re somewhere that you shouldn’t be and the fact that you know that makes you incredibly happy."
"Let the psychobabble begin… Not even so much as a hello. You not a fan of foreplay, Baal? Your girl must really appreciate that."
He felt a strange, pang in his gut at the mention of Lilith – he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps the insinuation that he couldn’t please her.
"What do you want Travis?"
"A World Championship reign that lasts forever, to go down in history as the greatest of all time and a DVD of every match I’ve ever fought in. Nothing like a masterclass."
Gabriel smiled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his fingers entwining into one another. He didn’t speak, he merely waited.
"We’ve been going at one another for the last month, and I’m here because I want you to know that I understand your end game. I’ve been in this business for long enough to recognise a guerrilla attack – I was pulling this shit before you even knew what your name was. Let me spell this out for you – see if this what you’re thinking. Take me off my game? All four of you coming at me from every angle – you want me to flounder, to falter, to focus on one of you in the hope that the others can ambush me. I’m in a no win situation, right? I can’t fight you all off at once, and if I focus on one of you at a time, well then I’ve got my back turned to the other three."
Roberts smiles and feigns looking up thoughtfully.
"So, you head into this match full of flattery for Larry and Killian. You claim that you’re all about team Euro-Amercian Chaos Protégé’s because that’s the only way that you’ll rid yourselves of Team Aussie-Emo-Luchadores. At the same time, Ego-Questing-Americhaos do the same thing – you taking Donnie and Rydell out, then you’re all in the Main Event. Of course, Killian and Vain will be surplus to requirements – if you’ve not already hung them out to dry – leaving the four of you and me… Travis Roberts. The greatest Champion UGWC has ever seen."
Gabriel rolls his eyes, thinking of Eden for a moment, before shaking his unease.
"But that’s the problem isn’t it Baal? I know what you’re planning and I know what you’re trying to do. You didn’t count on that, because if I know what’s coming I can plan for it. I can plan my own attack – I can beat you at your own game because I’m better at this than you are. There’s a reason that I’m the Champion and you’re not – and it has nothing to do with faulty engineering, and it has nothing to do with opportunity. It has everything to do with the fact that Gabriel Baal just isn’t half the man that Travis Roberts is… There’s no excuse for that – it’s just cold hard fact."
Gabriel climbs to his feet – and begins to pace.
"The only thing I can’t figure out is… Who are you planning on benefitting from this? I don’t see Gabriel Baal as the type to give up an opportunity when offered. Then again, you’ve all been banging your drum about .03 for the last month – perhaps it’s Holden who you’re all behind. Yet could it be Ichabod? He’s the one of you who's actually beaten me… Is it time for the master of Chaos to reveal himself. Or perhaps you’re swerving us all and Rogan MacLean is the one… Perhaps you mean to completely throw me. But here’s the rub, chump… It doesn’t matter. Whoever it is, I’ll beat you… because I’m Travis fucking Roberts and winning when the odds are against me… Well that’s just what I do best, right?"
Gabriel takes a deep breath, his hand in his pocket – suddenly, he lunges at Roberts. The Champion, however is too quick to react. Baal, syringe in hand is stopped in his tracks as Robert’s grips his arm.
"Predictable, Gabriel, very predictable."
The bigger Roberts slowly begins to overpower the wide eyed Baal, as the syringe finds it’s mark in his neck. Almost immediately, Baal deflates, with Travis lowering him into a chair.
"I hope you’ve recovered in time for Outlast, man… I really do. I can’t wait for you to prove me right."
Roberts leans forward to slap Baal on the cheek. And then It happened, Baal’s hand lifts and a second syringe connects with Robert’s neck. The Blessed One begins to fold like a deck of cards as Baal slowly pushes him back into his own chair.
"Saline, Travis. I had a feeling you would expect me to go on the attack so I needed to show you that, whilst you think you’re always one step ahead, the fact is that you’re so far behind that you can’t see our tracks in the sand. You’re correct about one thing – we have a goal at Outlast, but what that is you’ll have to wait and see. We know who, and why… We know what and when. What you and your mindless fans see as Chaos, I see as careful orchestration. This is all a giant chess game to me Travis and I see every move on the board… Every permutation. I saw the path I would take if I lost to you then, and I know the path I’ll take if I lose to you now. Planning is not pessimism my friend – it’s just good sense."
Gabriel reached up with his handkerchief and wiped the spot where Travis had sunk the needle. He was clumsy and now Baal was bleeding.
"You may think you know what is going on around you Travis, but the truth is that you’re oblivious… Always oblivious. Your friends conspire to defeat you, your enemies conspire to defeat you and you cast that away with a mocking shrug like you don’t care. Let me ask you, Travis. When faced with the Engine of Chaos, who will come to your aid. Not Eden Morgan, not Sex and Violence… Not Donovan and Rydell. Because given the opportunity, they will stand at our side and do everything in their power to ensure you’re not the champion any more. Because that is the desire of the masses – to see you finally fall."
Baal rests by sitting on the desk in front of Travis Roberts.
"You have a habit of reading things the wrong way, Blessed One… You saw your defeat of me as a show of dominance, when in truth you were merely blessed by consequence. You saw my rendering you paralyzed as a sign that I felt that I couldn’t defeat you – when all I truly wanted, was to show you that at any moment I can take what you have and hold it as my own with the blink of an eye. I’ve shown you again tonight. I am a danger that you can’t predict – my Chaos is my cruelty, and my cruelty is my chaos. And when we come face to face one more time, Travis, I can promise you that happenstance will not stand in the way of me taking that Championship away from you. One of us will Outlast you, Travis, because that is our truth. That is our endgame."
Gabriel pulled from his pocket a vile, half full with liquid.
"This is what I’ve used to render you paralysed Travis – on two occasions no less. I can measure the correct dose perfectly. Not quite enough and, well, we see what happened with Miss Morgan at In Your Hands… Too much and the effects can be damaging. A double dose, however? That is quite deadly."
Gabriel pushed the needle into the vile and drew out another dose of the solution.
"Right here, right now is a metaphor – Travis. I hold your very life in my hands. Just like I would hold everything you’ve ever worked for in my hands on Monday. This is true power, Headliner. Not your belief that you’re the best, not your ability to win against the odds… The true power is choice, and I have a choice to make about your future. You’ve mocked and sneered at me since April, you’ve chastised my position as a threat – yet in this moment you have more fear of me than you do anyone else at Outlast. Had you even given me even that level of respect, Travis… Perhaps I would have made a different choice."
The needle pressed into Travis’ neck – he couldn’t move to react. He couldn’t call out, he couldn’t fight. As Baal slowly started to inject he solution, he smiled down at Roberts.
"Good night sweet prince…"
When the syringe was empty, he pulled it out and tossed it to the ground. He took a deep breath and turned around, to find Holden Orson sat in the seat from where Gabriel had risen.
"You’re a little late if you’re here to stop me, Holden."
"Scoff."
Baal smiled.
"As if I would be here to stop you, Gabe. Have you not noticed the pattern here tonight? Ichabod, Rogan and now me? We’ve not been here to stop you – we’ve been here to make sure you genuinely, truly and honestly embraced the Chaos. Of course, Ichabod and I were here to make sure you’d bought in, but Rogan? Well he needed convincing himself. You did a good job, well done."
Baal tried not to sneer – he felt belittled, patronised - it was enough to make him explode.
"You’ve been distracted, Gabriel – we’ve all seen it. I’m not sure you’ve been in this 100% from the beginning. I think you accepted Ichabod’s proposal not because you wanted to join with us, but because you like to solve a puzzle and that tribute was one too juicy to say no to. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve played your part – you’ve even allowed Rogan to look like the spoiled child, but Ichabod and I have always wondered – always noticed that you stood apart from the group."
Baal moved to speak – but Holden cut him off.
"We always feared that you had your own agenda. Until now."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Laugh."
Baal rolled his eyes, but waited with all the patience he could muster.
"I’m talking about tonight – your distractions. You rid your world of each of your distractions in order to fully embrace the Chaos. We have to applaud you for that – it was bold, it was striking… It was beautiful."
"I think you might need to stay in my facility for a few nights, Holden – you’re making no sense."
"Of course… you don’t see it yet. Tell me – do you still believe those slayne tonight were those who we’re due to fight at Outlast?"
Baal stared – he had no idea how to answer that. Travis Roberts lay dead behind him, and Holden was trying to act like it never happened.
"Look again, Gabriel…"
Baal shook his head before turning on the spot. Immediately, he backed up. His eyes were wide and his mouth was dry – he felt dizzy. He felt hot. What… What was this? What was happening… No. No, that wasn’t the question… The question was… What had he done. He looked down at the body sat in the chair, eyes open with pupils blown… But they weren’t that of Travis Roberts… He looked down upon the body of Uriel… His second in command in the Order of the Inferno.
"You have truly embraced who you are… You have cut all ties. You have become a true Engine of Chaos. Gabriel Baal – congratulations."
Baal turned around, his head spinning yet Holden was gone. He felt that pang of pain in his stomach – his mind raced back over everything he’d done, everything he’d seen. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t see and then…
"No… No…"
He broke into a run, blindly making his journey his heart beating in his ears. He couldn’t have… He would never… He could never. He crashed against the gate to the swimming pool and it burst open. He ran to the poolside and could see the hand truck lay at the bottom… The face staring up at him filled him with horror. He staggered backwards and fell… The emotion broke and tears began to stream down his face. Lilith… His beautiful Lilith… What had he done.
He placed his hand into the inside the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out his phone. He felt numb, except for the hot tears rolling down his face. He dialed the only number he could think of…
"Gabe – you realise this is my night off? I’m about… Gabe? What is it? What’s wrong?"
"I’ve killed them Solomon… I’ve killed them all…"
"Who? What the fuck are you talkin' about?"
"Quentin…"
The blood pouring down his front, the life draining from his eyes.
"Riddick…"
The crunching of bone as the dumbbell connected with his skull.
"Daniel…"
The foaming pushing through the gaps in his metal mask as the electricity scorched his face beneath…
"Uriel…"
The life draining from his friend, his second in command, as the serum took it’s effect…
"And…"
He paused… This would be almost as hard for Saul as it had been for him.
"And?"
Baal could hear the urgency in Solomon’s voice now… He knew what was coming.
"My Lilith… My beautiful Lilith…"
Gabriel broke into uncontrollable sobs… He was broken, destroyed. He looked to the pool and thought of sweet release… He thought of the glass in his office… That would work. He thought of the serum in his pocket – he could do it now, he could be with them… He could tell them just how sorry he was. After a moment of silence, Solomon spoke. It was cold… The voice of a man doing a job.
"Go back to your office. Stay there. I’ll be there soon. We need to contain this fucking mess."
"I can’t go back… Quentin’s in there…"
"Just do what I fuckin’ say. Get back to your office and lock the door."
He sat back for a moment – he wanted to dive into the pool and pull Lilith out. He wanted to burn the building down around his ears. He wanted to curl up into a ball and face oblivion with those whose lives he’d taken. He fought against the tears, swallowed down the lump in his throat. He slowly climbed to his feet and began the walk back to his office on autopilot.
He ignored the scene of destruction in the gymnasium, he forced himself to stay away from Patient Zero’s room – even when he walked into his office he refused to look at the blood stained body sat across from his side of the desk. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths… He lay down on his couch and thought of the glass. He’d have to look at the body… Just once… But then he could take all of the pain away. It would all be gone…
It felt like seconds, but time must have passed more quickly. He was breathing still, when the door of the office burst open.
"Gabe… Gabe."
Baal didn’t answer, he just wiped his silent tears from his cheek – how could they all be gone?
"Where the fuck is it?"
"Is what?"
His answer was hollow - as if he had nothing else to give.
"The body, the fuck you think I’m talkin’ about."
Gabriel sat bolt up right and looked across his office – there was no-one there. Not Ingalls, not Barnes… No-one.
"This… This can’t be… Someone must have… Who could have moved it?"
"Well I fuckin’ hope it was you, otherwise we’ve got some major problems."
"Where would I have moved it… Where would…"
He looked to the floor underneath the chair – there was no blood. He looked to where the glass should have been, smashed against the desk, plunged into skin and dropped to the ground … Yet it was the wall that was damaged. The glass was shattered into a thousand pieces on the ground against the wall.
"Gabe… Barnes has just tweeted a good luck message to Eden…"
Gabriel blinked, and blinked and blinked… He took a deep breath, a mix of fear and relief washing over him. He quickly pulled out his cell phone… It dropped to the ground almost immediately. A message, from Lilith… Time stamped 2 minutes earlier… He shook his head, the relief making way for panic.
"Solomon…"
"Look, relax… You said there was Barnes, Riddick, Daniel, Lilith and Uriel… Right?"
"Yes… Yes…"
Solomon quickly shifted behind Baal’s desk and rewound the footage on all of his security cameras. There was nothing there – every single room was empty. Even when Baal was there, he was merely shouting into space.
"Gabriel… This wasn’t a dream, mate. This was…"
"A hallucination…"
He closed his eyes as his addled mind replayed each and every moment – three versions. Ingalls… Barnes… An empty office with a glass smashed against the wall. Jordan King… Riddick Andrews… A hand weight smashed against the ground. Mil Vidas… Daniel… An empty room, subjected to fury. Eden… Lilith… An empty hand truck dropped into a pool. Travis Roberts… Uriel… A self-administered shot that should have taken him down to the ground.
He blinked away the new tears now as the realisation began to set in… He would need to protect those around him. He would need a contingency.
"Solomon… We need a plan b. Just in case…"
"On it, boss… I’m on it."
Solomon turns on his heels and leaves the room, his cell phone attached to his ear. Gabriel leaned back in his chair and let out a chuckle… He’d imagined it all… He was two parts relieved to three parts terrified…
"Well…"
He grinned at his reflection across the room.
"This is inconvenient."
"Perhaps…"
His reflection answered.
"But it’s going to be fun… Allow me to introduce myself…"
Or at least, so he’d thought.
He’d started to drink hours ago – maybe minutes, he couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t much, not by a long shot, but he’d drank nonetheless. This was a paint by numbers situation – fill glass, drink until empty and repeat. Yet no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t seem to get drunk. It was odd – he was sure he’d emptied the bottle on more than one occasion, yet here it was still half full. Here was the glass, still amber with scotch.
"You know, it’s bad form to drink alone compadre."
Gabriel lifted his head, for the first time noticing that his vision was a little blurry. He blinked away the fog, bringing Jason Ingalls into sharp relief. Jason Ingalls? In his office? Without so much as an introduction. He sat across the desk, a sarcastic grin on his face. He was leant back in the chair, his legs spread in a way that was supposed to exude confidence, but did little more than display a misplaced arrogance.
"I could think of a thousand names I would choose to drink with before you."
Ingall’s smile refused to fade – he just continued to stare with those beady eyes.
"You mind?"
He pointed at the bottle, and reached out without waiting for an answer. He didn’t know why, but Gabriel did nothing to stop him. Jason slowly poured out the scotch, all the time keeping eye contact with Baal. The Seventh Circle ran his tongue across his teeth, trying to keep the scorn off his face. He was failing miserably.
"What are you doing here, Jason?"
"I figured we should meet up, you know, before Outlast? Before I systematically dismantle you, brother. Before I show the world the truth about Gabriel Baal."
It was Gabriel’s turn to smile now – Jason Ingalls had finally located his balls.
"And what truth is that, Mr. Ingalls?"
Jase searched Baal with a look – for some reason, it unnerved him. He couldn’t understand why this man could ever come close to breaching his core. Yet here he was, slowly allowing himself to fear what he would say.
"You and me – we’ve fought before, Gabe. You think you’re hot shit, but you’re not. The truth about you is pretty simple – you talk strong, but your game is weak. And before you toss in my direction that you beat me, so what? You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. You’re smoke and mirrors. You talk like you’re the guy everyone should fear – you don’t know what intimidation is. You’re no Mickey fucking Dragon. You’re not even Fear. Fuck man – you’re not even Alex Stein. You’re a guy in a suit, who’s great at talking but better at losing."
He fought the need to laugh – this was what Jason Ingalls had? Insults and threats. He fought and fought, but still something burrowed deep inside him – Ingalls hadn’t finished.
"You’re a fraud Baal – a charlatan. I know everything, and I could end your little game in a second. I know about Hugh, I know about Eden, I know what you’re planning and I can bring your whole world crashing down around your ears. That’s the truth… Baal. You’re not in control of this, I am… And no matter what happens at Outlast, I’ll still be in control. You want Chaos, you fucking prick? I’ll bring you Chaos."
He wasn’t sure how, or why… He wasn’t sure what made him do it – it felt almost as if he was floating above his own body. Like he watched the entire thing happen before his eyes. He took a moment, rolling the glass in his hand in his fingers before throwing the scotch in Jason’s eyes. He coughed, and spluttered but that didn’t drown out the sound of shattering glass. He slowly walked around the desk and waited – waited for Jason to wipe away the burn of the alcohol. Ingalls slowly looked up, before realising that Baal was stood over him.
And then came the blood – hot, crimson spurts of blood. He pulled back the glass and felt it jar from the deep gash in Jason’s throat. Ingalls began to cough and splutter, trying to hold in the very life that was slowly seeping down his white t-shirt. Gabriel sat back, leaning against his desk, a satisfied smile upon his face.
"You think you know everything, Mr. Ingalls. That’s always been my problem with you – your ability to overreach. In case I didn’t make it abundantly clear the last time we faced, I don’t like you. I don’t like what you are or what you do. You’re not the only one who knows things – I know what you did to Eden in her brothers office. How exactly do you think Cypress or Chaos or any of those horrendous Bikers would have reacted if they’d known? But they didn’t, because I know how to keep my mouth shut."
Gabriel tilted his head staring down into the wide, terrified eyes of what would have been one of his four opponents at Outlast.
"I prefer to deal with things my own way – no threats of revealing secrets, no faux acts of bravado. I will call you out on what you’ve done and I will punish you for it. You, Jase, have become a liability. You, Jase, have become a thorn I can no longer ignore. Fifteen minutes ago, you were an opponent over which I was required to step. Now, my friend, you’re an obstacle that I have removed – I’d love to say it wasn’t personal. But I cannot."
Baal pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his fingers – it had already started to congeal on his skin. He would need some Purell.
"I’m not known for doing the sensible thing, Gabriel, but this would be somewhat fucked up even for me."
Gabriel wasn’t shocked to hear the voice – in fact, he felt almost like he’d been expecting it. Like it had always been there, whispering in his ear. Baal turned around to face the source of the conversation.
"I mean – killing one of your opponents just a few days before Outlast? That’s got to be a step too far."
"I believe you dug up a body last year."
Ichabod let out a chuckle, before looking up at the ceiling.
"Yeah – the good old days."
"So you can understand if I don’t take your advice about what is and what isn’t sensible."
"I dug up a body – I didn’t cause one. It’s hard work, digging up a body, but likely not as difficult as it would be to bury one."
Gabriel was starting to feel a little irked – here he was with a dead body in his office, and all Ichabod could do was make jokes.
"Do you think anyone will miss him?"
"I know I won’t, fucking choad. But when he doesn’t turn up on Monday night, I figure people are going to ask questions. Questions lead to investigations. I know you’re hot shit in this town, but I can’t see you managing to kill off all the CCTV that shows him getting here and never leaving."
This, Gabriel knew, was correct – this would be problematic. Jason Ingalls may not be liked in the wider world, but there would be questions.
"Forgetting, for a moment, your impending doom – I have to give you props."
"Really?"
He tried to avoid sounding snarky. He failed. Thankfully, Ichabod seemed not to mind – in fact, he smiled.
"Yes – really. When you arrived in UGWC you seemed willing and able to do whatever you had to. You seemed determined to destroy the established order. You focused on Alan Wallace, Travis Roberts, Eden Morgan – the so-called Elite here in UGWC. I enjoyed watching that. Whilst it was a happy coincidence that I wanted to protect Holden from your prying, I also knew that we could do some important work together. Yet since we agreed to align, your intentions have been clouded. Strike that. You’ve been acting like a choad. Sulking over Eden, picking fights with anyone with a tweeter handle..."
"Twitter…"
"Whatever… You seemed to have strayed from your purpose. You seemed to have lost your ability to dig deep and do whatever you had to do to upset the balance. And now here you are, with blood on your hands and a body in your office. It finally feels like you’re back to who you were always meant to be."
Gabriel turned to look at Jason again, as his hand dropped limply to his side.
"And who is that?"
"Gabriel fucking Baal."
He turned his head and smiled, yet Ichabod was gone – just he’d arrived.
The gymnasium at Angelfields wasn’t a part of the original design – which is why the pool was some way across the facility. It had been added after and in truth, was rarely used by anyone other than Gabriel and his more upmarket clientele. Recent accusations, although unfounded, had caused a somewhat dry spell as it concerned privately paying patients. Despite the obvious fiscal issues, it also meant that Gabriel Baal had one of the best equipped private Gymnasiums in the state. He divided his day between early morning cardio and weight sessions and evenings spent sparring with his coach, Riddick.
Now, though, he just found himself taking in the air of the place. The ring, in the centre, could be used for boxing, MMA, wrestling – it had seen the most use of anything else in here. The stains of sweat and blood tinged the air with the kind of smell that was unique to this kind of place. He’d had musicians, actors, politicians – all sorts really – spend their recovery time sparring with either one of his own fitness guru’s or someone brought in from the outside.
Gabe’s wrestling education had started outside of Angelfields, at a school just outside of Chinatown. Riddick had been his coach and his mentor before he’d suddenly upped sticks and head on down to help out Quentin in Texas. Gabriel’s typical reaction had been to cut the guy out of his life – they hadn’t spoken again until Barnes had reintroduced them a couple of months earlier. Now they were thick as thieves all over again – only here, instead of downtown.
"Self-monologue went out with Geocities mate. You planning on getting in here or you gonna stand around musing about how bitter and twisted you are."
Baal looked towards the ring, which had been empty a moment ago, to see the figure of a man silhouetted against the lighting behind him. Gabriel stepped forward, holding up his hand to shield himself from the light. He moved around, rather than straight forward, the light now pouring across the face looking back at him. Jordan King… The Cyclone… In full wrestling attire, waiting to spar.
"You’re not getting in? You could do with the practice mate – you’re pretty good in a group, but when you’re one on one you don’t seem to have what it takes."
Continuing his long walk around the ring, Gabriel merely stared into the ring, a somewhat fixed smirk upon his upturned face.
"At the very least, give me the chance to beat some respect into you, mate. You know why I came back? Because men like you are what’s wrong with this business today – no respect for what came before, no willingness to give the required props to anyone who give up everything, fighting to give you the chance to do what you do in that ring. If it wasn’t for Moss Edwards, there would be no Gabriel Baal – that’s the truth I want to beat into you."
He didn’t answer – just watched in amusement. He enjoyed JK’s frustration. He enjoyed JK’s anger – it was why he did what he did. For the reaction. JK walked towards him now, leaning on the top rope looking down.
"Yet here you are – cowering in your palace, just waiting to hide behind better men in the hope that you’ll ride their coat tails into the Main Event – all in the hope that you’ll be able to scheme and snide your way to a World Heavyweight Title – but what then? Then you’re all alone – no Rogan to hide behind. No Killian to carry you. No Larry to drag you through. You’ll stand across from someone better than you and you’ll fail. And you’ll fail. And you’ll fail some more mate."
Gabriel turned away now – walking around the ring still, yet now not even meeting JK’s gaze. He just walked, whilst JK called at him, over and over again.
"Here we go again – a lack of respect. Hey… Hey Baal, I’m talking to you mate."
JK pulled down the ropes and slowly climbed out of the ring. He jumped from the apron down to the mat, but didn’t immediately follow. He called again, but Baal just continued to walk.
"You know the truth, Baal? You won’t make it past Qualifying – you know why? Because Eden Morgan is better than you are, because Mil Vidas is better than you are, because Jason Ingalls is better than you are and most of all, because I’m better than you are. I’m looking forward to being the one who beats some respect into you mate, and it’s going to be one hell of a ride…"
JK had made the mistake of following Gabriel across the room – he wasn’t far behind now. Gabriel stopped, and JK did the same. Almost instinctively, Gabriel stretched out his hand and gripped a steel dumb bell. He lifted it up into the air and turned – the momentum of the turn and the swing of his arm brought the weight up into JK’s lower jaw. The crack of bone split the air and JK fell backwards to the ground hard.
"Finally, I’ve found a way to stop you talking."
Gabriel slowly advanced upon JK who had fallen ten to eleven feet away from where Baal had stood. He was moving, but only slightly.
"The Cyclone – that’s what they call you. But the truth is that you’re nothing more than bluster. The only remotely destructive thing about you is your inability to step out of the spotlight and allow those who devote their lives to this cause to take centre stage. The only thing remotely impactful about you, Jordan, is the effect you have upon those for whom you claim to have forged a path for. Not because of your skills or capabilities in the ring, but because you take the spot of someone who truly deserves a chance."
Gabriel begins to advance upon JK who stirs now, slowly blinking some life back to his eyes. He looks up and realization begins to dawn.
"Moss Edwards returned from the abyss, and spent months merely taking up space – then he decides to retire and finally it appears that he’ll be making way for a new name. Yet the choices for his final opponent were who? Jet Somers – hardly a man in need of the boost of retiring a former World Champion. Ezekiel Pax, a man who – like Moss – returned from the past to offer tribute to the retiring hero… And you… JK… The man so renowned for his moth-like tendencies to find the spotlight. There was a chance, Jordan… A chance for Rogan MacLean, for Killian King, for Ichabod – for anyone to cement a legacy by being the final man to face Moss Edwards, such as he was, yet you unyielding cling on’s couldn’t help but beat your drum."
King began to clumsily scuttle backwards, trying to pull himself out of harms way – it was moot. There would be no escaping Baal, should he strike. Yet JK had to try, he had to at least summon the courage to try – Gabriel understood that.
"We’ve been over your reasons, Jordan. I’m not going to tell you what you already know, so how about something you don’t. Rogan and I made an example of Moss Edwards because he was there. Had he fallen, it would have been Jet Somers, or Eziquel Pax… Or even you. Of course, we had hoped it would be Moss – that would allow Rogan to play his little game. He wanted Moss Edwards to be his target demographic. But I didn’t care – and I still don’t. My only regret is that we stopped where we did – we should have made sure Moss Edwards had no choice but to stay retired. We should have dragged you and Pax out there and made sure that you couldn’t raise your beastly self-centred heads again. We should have ended each of you, one by one, until we could be sure there would be no coming back."
Gabriel lifted the dumbbell again, JK lifted his hands to shield himself for what it was worth. Yet the blow never came – JK’s eyes opened to find a figure stood between them. Baal too had been surprised when this newcomer had stepped between them.
"Where exactly did you come from?"
"Been here the whole time"
Gabriel tilts his head, doing his best not to be amused at Larry, the Conquerer of Pain, the Protégé of Planets… Or something like that… Stood between himself and Jordan King.
"What do you want, Larry?"
"I think I’m here to stop you from making a huge mistake, Baal. I don’t like you – I don’t have to. But I know a mistake when I see one."
"I take it you’ve been looking in the mirror?"
Larry smiles and sidesteps as Baal looks to walk around him.
"Jokes about my parents – original. You can insult me all you like, but that won’t change the fact that you’re about to do something that you’re going to regret for the rest of your life."
Baal stands, his eyes rolling backwards to show his distain.
"What do you know about regret, Larry?"
"I know I disowned my godfather – who I may never speak to again. I know I turned my back on my family. I know I followed a man who never really cared about me. I know I’ve wasted months of my career licking my wounds. I know that if you go ahead with this, you’ll never be able to come back from it."
Gabriel’s frustration had started to boil over now – he was pacing now. Behind Larry, JK was still trying to pull himself away. But he had nowhere to go – Gabriel knew that. He couldn’t escape – which was why he allowed Larry to distract him.
"Understand this, Larry – you’re my team mate at Outlast. You’re not my friend. You’re not my friend, you’re not my ally, you’re not my confidante. You’re a man who was chosen, much like me, yet you weren’t the first draft pick, you weren’t the second option – you were the only option. Now I suggest, if you want to make it to Outlast, you step away and allow what will be… To be."
Larry shook his head for a second as Baal walked past towards the cowering JK. Baal stood, hard, on JK’s foot refusing to allow him to move.
"Gabriel – you can’t do this and do what you want. Trust me when I tell you, that the choices we make are more important than the perception they cause."
Baal stopped and slowly turned towards Larry with a thoughtful look.
"Larry – I’ll take my chances."
He turned and swung the dumbbell again – the crunch was sickening – and JK didn’t move again.
He wasn’t a hundred percent sure how he’d reached Patient Zero’s new quarters. But he had the bottle, and for some reason that was all that seemed to matter. His hands were clean now, which led him to believe that the smell of alcohol was as much from the Purell as it was his breath. Patient Zero… or Daniel as he was known to some had been Gabriel's first case study. Everyone remembered their first… Gabriel was lucky he’d been able to keep him around. A testament to his good work over the years. There had been a preference, where Gabriel had been concerned, to keep Patient Zero close. That was why he’d had the vault built. Originally designed as a panic room, to protect him from violent outbreaks, it had become Patient Zero’s permanent home.
And then Eden Morgan came along.
Still, there would be time for that later – for now he wanted to visit his oldest friend. He felt he had something he needed to get off his chest and a trip down memory lane would likely help him to find the words he needed to say. He placed his hand upon the biometric scanner and waited. Yet nothing happened – in fact, there was nothing too happen. There were no lights, no sensors… Nothing. He pressed his hand against the door and pushed – it opened with ease.
For a moment he hesitated – what was going on? This room should be secure at all times – if it wasn’t, that meant that someone didn’t want it to be. If it wasn’t, then it meant that whatever was behind this door could strike at any moment. He took a deep breath and pushed – the door swung open into darkness. This was some hammer horror scenario – walking into a pitch black room. Pricks didn’t very often come out of these situations faring well – and he was definitely a prick.
"Hello?"
Why did people do that? Why when faced with an unknown danger do they call out “hello” as if whatever was in there would call back. “Don’t worry friend, I’m not going to hurt you… Just come on in to my dark world.”. Nothing answered. Gabriel moved forward into the room, and began searching for the light switch. He felt the notch on the wall and flicked it, the room being thrown into light.
"Boo!"
Gabriel staggered backwards and tripped over a chair, falling hard and hitting his head on the ground. The room swam in front of him. He looked up into the brightly coloured face of whatever had been waiting for him. The figure was laughing now, as it sauntered around the room.
"You scare easily, amigo."
Baal blinked again, finally realising just who his guest was – Mil Vidas. He looked the luchadore up and down before casting his eye to the upright bed to which Patient Zero should now be strapped. It was empty.
"Do not worry about your friend, essay – he is safe. Which is more than I can say for you."
Baal did his best not to laugh – Vidas’ confidence was misplaced. Baal pushed himself up and back against the wall, his lip turning into a sneer. He opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off.
"This Monday, I finally take my revenge – I take away from you, that which you desire most. This Monday, I take away the opportunity for you and your friend to – what is it you say – bring change to the established order. I’ve waited, Gabriel – I’ve waited for this chance, for this opportunity to get my revenge for what happened the week after Wrestlestock. I’ve waited for the opportunity to get my hands on the two of you and show you what a mistake you made."
Baal reached up and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, before resting his elbow on his bent knee. Vidas was staring him down now, as if waiting for a response. Baal merely waved his upturned palm at him – “come on… What else have you got to say?” Vidas’ reaction was hidden behind his mask – all but for the smile.
"You realise that this team was created for a single purpose, essay? Su derrota. La destrucción de usted y su amigo. It was everything I had hoped for and more – Eden Morgan, with whom you have played games for months. Jordan King, who felt the bitter taste of your treachery whilst watching his friend fall at your hands. Jason Ingalls – taunted and humiliated at your expense. We may not be the most decorated team in history, but we have a purpose. Stand in your way and block your path."
Vidas slowly moved backwards until his back was against the bed upon which Patient Zero had spent most of his life.
"We have your number, Dr. Baal – we have everything that it takes to stop you and I will take pleasure in doing so. This time, your world will fall, and it will be you who is strapped to this bed. Hasta el lunes"
Vidas’ smile was fixed for a second – Gabriel’s finger was still pressed to a button on the underside of the desk to which he sat adjacent. Vidas couldn’t stop smiling, because his muscles had contracted and paralysed him. The bed, upon which Patient Zero spent so much of his life, had been electrified in order to prevent him from lashing out at patients. Of course Mil Vidas wouldn’t know this – how could he? At least… He didn’t know it until now.
Gabriel hopped to his feet and released the button – Vidas started to slowly slump but Baal reached him in time and held him up, pushing him back against the bed. A few seconds later, the restraints were tied and Vidas was now restricted to the bed. The electricity had taken it’s toll, but Vidas slowly came too. Baal pulled up a chair and took a seat and pulled off his jacket.
"Do you know the hours I’ve spent in front of this bed talking? I couldn’t imagine – I would suggest I’ve spent more hours with the resident of that bed than I have with anyone else in my life. The reason I enjoy it so much is that my friend, as you so eloquently called him, didn’t speak all that much. In fact, that was the only thing I really liked about you – I figure your attempts at intimidation this evening are the reason you don’t talk much. It’s not within you to muster even the merest sense of fear in those you’re addressing. You’re less than a threat – Vidas. You’re a moron."
Baal stood up, stepped forward and placed his hand against the mask – it was intricately beautiful in it’s design. In his time studying professional wrestling, he’d skipped over lucha culture – a mistake, he’d been told on more than one occasion. Looking now at the care and attention that had been paid to a mask created for a talent as mediocre as Mil Vidas Jnr. he had to admit that perhaps, that assessment had been correct.
"You think this team has been created to destroy us – well let me enlighten you… Amigo. Eden Morgan is, at all times, walking a tightrope between the woman she is and the woman she wants to be. That’s not that it doesn’t make her dangerous – it does, but it also means that she’s a second away from caring about nothing other than herself. I can relate to that, so it doesn’t concern me – but if you think she’ll give up what she wants to bring myself and Rogan down then you’re sadly mistaken.
Baal smiled and slapped Vidas gently on the cheek.
"I can promise you, Vidas – the rest of your team are not a threat. You have nothing – nothing but this idea that Outlast is the moment you’ve been waiting for to take your revenge. That Outlast is the very moment you’ve had to get to in order to take revenge on myself and Rogan for what we did to you. Christ man, we’ve been in the same building every week for the past two months and you’ve done nothing to make us pay. What is it about Outlast that’s so special? Because you’ve been placed into a match against Rogan and I? If that’s what you’ve been waiting for, Vidas – then your honour is going to cost you."
Vidas wasn’t talking now – he was merely struggling and fighting to find a way out of the restraints.
"I said it before – I have no problem with you. I don’t believe Rogan had any problem with you that taking your Chaos Championship didn’t solve. The facts are plain and clear, you were the wrong man, in the wrong place at the wrong time – you were caught up in a plan that Rogan and I hatched together and now you feel scorned. But not enough to reach down and find your testicles. Yes you had to wait for permission to take your revenge. We, on the other hand, await no-ones permission. We will take what we want, when we want, how we want. We are the agents of disorder, we are the soldiers of anarchy, we are the Engine of Chaos…"
Baal found himself now, with his fingers over that button once more. He could feel Vidas’ fearing stare burning into the back of his head.
"Do you plan on stepping in at any time or…"
Gabriel turned his head, enough to view the chair upon which he’d sat earlier.
"Not me fella, I’m all for this. Kill the prick."
Rogan MacLean had taken audience right in front of Vidas, staring up at the luchadore with a smile on his face.
"I assumed you were here to talk me out of some inhuman mistake that would cost me my very future?"
"No lad – I’m here to watch you flick that switch. I need to know you buy into this Chaos stuff, before I do. We’ve had some problems the last month, fella, but if you flick that switch I know you’re in – balls deep."
Gabriel smiled and nodded. He flicked the switch and turned to face the room at large – Vidas began to twitch uncontrollably – there was the faint smell of burning flesh. His cries were stifled, and his mouth began to foam.
"Now this is the Gabriel Baal that Sid Griffith’s told me about – willing to do whatever it takes, whenever it’s required. This is the man that Sid told me would help to change the very face of UGWC. This is the man that I signed up with – not that Eden Morgan chasing, title losing, kiss-ass that I’ve had to deal with for the last month. This is the beginning, man – this is the very start of everything."
Vidas twitching slowed until it stopped – the foam was running down his chin now, his fingers were blackened with the effects of the electrocution.
"Let Chaos ensue…"
He heard splashing from the pool – and rubbed his face. He was tired – so very tired. It had been a long, long night and he could feel it was far from over. The glass roof allowed the moonlight to shine down into the dark pool, causing spectacular ripples of light to move over the surface. The pool wasn’t still, because there was someone in it. He could see from the doorway that they were swimming lengths – one after one, over and over – all he could tell was that the shapely form was female. He took a deep breath before walking inside.
"Beautiful night for a moonlight swim."
The woman in the pool had stopped momentarily, pulling herself up so that her arms were holding her against the side.
"Big place you’ve got here – I can see why the police didn’t find anything. Would take them, what? A month to search everywhere."
"Two, I would suspect."
"You really have got your bases covered haven’t you Gabriel?"
Baal smiled down at the stunningly beautiful face of Eden Morgan – some women had a knack of looking fantastic when coming out of a pool and she was one of them. She pulled herself out and patted off her one piece swimsuit with a towel by Gabriel’s side. She wrapped it around herself and sat down next to Baal.
"What are we doing, Gabrel? What’s this game all about?"
"No game, my dear – you know what I want from you. That’s never changed – say the word and you and I will rule this place with an iron fist. You just need to let go."
She smiled, but not kindly. She was almost pitying.
"Do your new friends know that you’d drop them in a second if I agreed? Do they know that you’d probably target them because they’d be a threat to us. Do they know that your black heart belongs to no-one but you, and that you’ll turn your back on them as soon as it is convenient?"
"They do – because they would do very same to me. It’s the nature of Chaos, Eden – nothing is for certain."
She slapped his leg mockingly. An unsaid “Sure, whatever you say.” Crossing her as she climbs to her feet.
"I don’t like you Gabriel – you know that. I don’t know why you persist with this continued campaign. Friends, partners, colleagues… I don’t care what you think you want, but it’s not going to happen. You’re vile, you’re cruel and you’ve done nothing but torment me since the moment I’ve come back. Well I won, Gabriel. You threw every last thing you had at me and I beat you. You fucking drugged me, and I beat you. You savaged me in that match, Gabriel, and I beat you. I have nothing left to prove to you – so stop trying to make me. Otherwise I’m going to have to do something about it."
Baal smiled. She stood up and walked way. If she’d left it there, he’d probably have let her go. He’d probably have watched her leave and moved on to whatever else the gods of chaos had in store for him on this night. But she didn't... Because Eden.
"You know what, Gabriel. Despite everything you’ve done to me, I’m still better placed than you. Sure, I lost to Fear but it took you and your cult of chaos fucks to distract me in order to make that happen. Well you know what? This Monday, I’m going to beat you, I’m going to beat Rogan and I’m going to beat Larry and I’m going to beat Killian Fucking King… Then the four of you can sit backstage and lick your wounds while I go on and beat whoever else gets through to the Main Event. This year, Outlast is MY event. I don’t care what the event is called, Sin City is my city – Gabriel. Don’t think for one second you’ll be able to do a damn thing to stop me."
He climbed to his feet, and walked towards her – even then. In that moment, he could have just let her go – but she slapped him. A full, open hand slap that caused the world to turn black.
"Baal – what the fuck are you doing? Baal!"
It was if someone had flicked on a light. He took a moment to shake his head, bringing himself back to his current situation. He looked to his right, a figure was stood behind the closed gates to the pool – locked at all times to ensure patients couldn’t just wander in.
"Sh… Shut up…"
"Oi, you fucking nutter – open this gate now!"
"I said shut up Killian!"
King rattled the gate, over and over again. Baal slowly turned on the spot, and he could see now what Killian had been shouting about. Eden was strapped to a hand truck, her arms and legs bound and her mouth gagged. She faced inwards, her back to the pool. There were weights attached to it, and the only thing stopping her falling backwards into the water were two ropes – one tied to each handle. In Baal’s hand was a knife… He quickly realised what had been about to happen.
"I’m so tired of this, Eden… I really am."
He sat down, on one of the benches.
"You and I have been dancing this dance for months now – and we’re no better off. You don’t believe what I tell you, so I get angry and do something regretful… Then you hate me, and I do something less regretful. Then you hate me less, before you make it clear you don’t believe me and the cycle begins again."
"Baal please… Don’t do this."
He nonchalantly waved his hand at Killian.
"But you’re good at cycles – it’s what you do best. You convince yourself that you’re good enough to do this alone – you convince the world, that you’re good enough to do this alone. You convince your opponents that you’re good enough to do this alone and then you do! You win the World Title at Sin City… Alone… You Win the Cross Hemisphere title from me… Alone. You shock the world and make them see that Eden Morgan is a force to be reckoned with and then? You fail… Alone. Precious Killian last year, Fear this… It’s almost like, once you’ve made your point you don’t care anymore. You beat Alan Wallace… You beat Gabriel Baal. You’ve proved everything you needed to prove."
"Open the fucking gate mate. Now!"
"And here you are, all over again… Perpetuating the cycle. You may well walk into Outlast and prove your point that you don’t need Killian… That you can beat me, that you can beat Rogan. You might have that fire and that determination to take that step that you need to take to prove the naysayers wrong… And then you’ll walk into the Main Event and you’ll lose. Why? Because Travis Roberts hasn’t given you a reason to beat him. Because no-one else who could get to that final will have given you a reason to beat them. That’s what you need Eden… The motivation. I give you that motivation… You’re welcome."
Killian rattled the gate over and over - he backed up and tried to kick at the lock. It was no use, the gate was going nowhere.
"I’m gonna break your legs when I get in there Baal, I swear to god."
"BE QUIET!"
Baal screamed at Killian who sneered and shook the gates more violently.
"We have to break the cycle Eden – we have to break it. That I what the Engine of Chaos is all about – breaking the cycle. Removing conformity. Releasing the slaves from their shackles and allowing them to see that change is not only for the best, but it is… Inevitable. One way or another we have to break the chain – and it starts with you."
He leans forward and places his lips upon her forehead. Her eyes widen in horror.
"Don’t do this, Baal – don’t do this. This is not something you want to live with. You don’t want to hurt her – she’s done nothing! She’s done nothing!"
"I’m sorry."
Gabriel swipes up with the knife and cuts the ropes. The truck, unable to support it’s own weight, tumbles backwards into the pool. Almost immediately, Baal strides towards Killian.
"What the f…"
"She has about sixty seconds before she passes out so I suggest you listen carefully. You’re better than standing in the shadow of Alan Wallace, you’re better than being Eden Morgan’s puppet. You’re better than playing jester to the whims of those you defeated last year. Embrace the Chaos Killian King – take it into your heart and allow it to take you to places that you could only dream of. Think fast – take your revenge or try to play the hero. What will it be?"
Baal turns the key and unlocks the gate – for a moment Killian looks like he wants to strike, but sensing the urgency he merely moves towards the pool. Baal slips out, not waiting to find out just how this story plays out.
The meeting rooms at Angelfields had been created for those times where his office just wouldn’t do – this was rare. So rare that the rooms had been sparingly used over the years – in fact, they were generally only used for business involving the Order of the Inferno. There were times where Gabriel used it as a place of solace – there were no windows and the doors locked from the inside. He could relax in here – he could be at peace.
"Typical…"
Baal let out a groan as he closed the door behind him and locked it. He pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning back to match the nonchalant poise of his visitor. The UGWC World Heavyweight Champion, The Blessed One, The Headliner, The TWiSTeD… You get the picture… Travis Roberts sat with his feet up on the desk in front of him.
"Ain’t nothing typical about the Blessed One, Gabriel, you should know that by now."
"All I know, Travis, is that you’re somewhere that you shouldn’t be and the fact that you know that makes you incredibly happy."
"Let the psychobabble begin… Not even so much as a hello. You not a fan of foreplay, Baal? Your girl must really appreciate that."
He felt a strange, pang in his gut at the mention of Lilith – he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps the insinuation that he couldn’t please her.
"What do you want Travis?"
"A World Championship reign that lasts forever, to go down in history as the greatest of all time and a DVD of every match I’ve ever fought in. Nothing like a masterclass."
Gabriel smiled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his fingers entwining into one another. He didn’t speak, he merely waited.
"We’ve been going at one another for the last month, and I’m here because I want you to know that I understand your end game. I’ve been in this business for long enough to recognise a guerrilla attack – I was pulling this shit before you even knew what your name was. Let me spell this out for you – see if this what you’re thinking. Take me off my game? All four of you coming at me from every angle – you want me to flounder, to falter, to focus on one of you in the hope that the others can ambush me. I’m in a no win situation, right? I can’t fight you all off at once, and if I focus on one of you at a time, well then I’ve got my back turned to the other three."
Roberts smiles and feigns looking up thoughtfully.
"So, you head into this match full of flattery for Larry and Killian. You claim that you’re all about team Euro-Amercian Chaos Protégé’s because that’s the only way that you’ll rid yourselves of Team Aussie-Emo-Luchadores. At the same time, Ego-Questing-Americhaos do the same thing – you taking Donnie and Rydell out, then you’re all in the Main Event. Of course, Killian and Vain will be surplus to requirements – if you’ve not already hung them out to dry – leaving the four of you and me… Travis Roberts. The greatest Champion UGWC has ever seen."
Gabriel rolls his eyes, thinking of Eden for a moment, before shaking his unease.
"But that’s the problem isn’t it Baal? I know what you’re planning and I know what you’re trying to do. You didn’t count on that, because if I know what’s coming I can plan for it. I can plan my own attack – I can beat you at your own game because I’m better at this than you are. There’s a reason that I’m the Champion and you’re not – and it has nothing to do with faulty engineering, and it has nothing to do with opportunity. It has everything to do with the fact that Gabriel Baal just isn’t half the man that Travis Roberts is… There’s no excuse for that – it’s just cold hard fact."
Gabriel climbs to his feet – and begins to pace.
"The only thing I can’t figure out is… Who are you planning on benefitting from this? I don’t see Gabriel Baal as the type to give up an opportunity when offered. Then again, you’ve all been banging your drum about .03 for the last month – perhaps it’s Holden who you’re all behind. Yet could it be Ichabod? He’s the one of you who's actually beaten me… Is it time for the master of Chaos to reveal himself. Or perhaps you’re swerving us all and Rogan MacLean is the one… Perhaps you mean to completely throw me. But here’s the rub, chump… It doesn’t matter. Whoever it is, I’ll beat you… because I’m Travis fucking Roberts and winning when the odds are against me… Well that’s just what I do best, right?"
Gabriel takes a deep breath, his hand in his pocket – suddenly, he lunges at Roberts. The Champion, however is too quick to react. Baal, syringe in hand is stopped in his tracks as Robert’s grips his arm.
"Predictable, Gabriel, very predictable."
The bigger Roberts slowly begins to overpower the wide eyed Baal, as the syringe finds it’s mark in his neck. Almost immediately, Baal deflates, with Travis lowering him into a chair.
"I hope you’ve recovered in time for Outlast, man… I really do. I can’t wait for you to prove me right."
Roberts leans forward to slap Baal on the cheek. And then It happened, Baal’s hand lifts and a second syringe connects with Robert’s neck. The Blessed One begins to fold like a deck of cards as Baal slowly pushes him back into his own chair.
"Saline, Travis. I had a feeling you would expect me to go on the attack so I needed to show you that, whilst you think you’re always one step ahead, the fact is that you’re so far behind that you can’t see our tracks in the sand. You’re correct about one thing – we have a goal at Outlast, but what that is you’ll have to wait and see. We know who, and why… We know what and when. What you and your mindless fans see as Chaos, I see as careful orchestration. This is all a giant chess game to me Travis and I see every move on the board… Every permutation. I saw the path I would take if I lost to you then, and I know the path I’ll take if I lose to you now. Planning is not pessimism my friend – it’s just good sense."
Gabriel reached up with his handkerchief and wiped the spot where Travis had sunk the needle. He was clumsy and now Baal was bleeding.
"You may think you know what is going on around you Travis, but the truth is that you’re oblivious… Always oblivious. Your friends conspire to defeat you, your enemies conspire to defeat you and you cast that away with a mocking shrug like you don’t care. Let me ask you, Travis. When faced with the Engine of Chaos, who will come to your aid. Not Eden Morgan, not Sex and Violence… Not Donovan and Rydell. Because given the opportunity, they will stand at our side and do everything in their power to ensure you’re not the champion any more. Because that is the desire of the masses – to see you finally fall."
Baal rests by sitting on the desk in front of Travis Roberts.
"You have a habit of reading things the wrong way, Blessed One… You saw your defeat of me as a show of dominance, when in truth you were merely blessed by consequence. You saw my rendering you paralyzed as a sign that I felt that I couldn’t defeat you – when all I truly wanted, was to show you that at any moment I can take what you have and hold it as my own with the blink of an eye. I’ve shown you again tonight. I am a danger that you can’t predict – my Chaos is my cruelty, and my cruelty is my chaos. And when we come face to face one more time, Travis, I can promise you that happenstance will not stand in the way of me taking that Championship away from you. One of us will Outlast you, Travis, because that is our truth. That is our endgame."
Gabriel pulled from his pocket a vile, half full with liquid.
"This is what I’ve used to render you paralysed Travis – on two occasions no less. I can measure the correct dose perfectly. Not quite enough and, well, we see what happened with Miss Morgan at In Your Hands… Too much and the effects can be damaging. A double dose, however? That is quite deadly."
Gabriel pushed the needle into the vile and drew out another dose of the solution.
"Right here, right now is a metaphor – Travis. I hold your very life in my hands. Just like I would hold everything you’ve ever worked for in my hands on Monday. This is true power, Headliner. Not your belief that you’re the best, not your ability to win against the odds… The true power is choice, and I have a choice to make about your future. You’ve mocked and sneered at me since April, you’ve chastised my position as a threat – yet in this moment you have more fear of me than you do anyone else at Outlast. Had you even given me even that level of respect, Travis… Perhaps I would have made a different choice."
The needle pressed into Travis’ neck – he couldn’t move to react. He couldn’t call out, he couldn’t fight. As Baal slowly started to inject he solution, he smiled down at Roberts.
"Good night sweet prince…"
When the syringe was empty, he pulled it out and tossed it to the ground. He took a deep breath and turned around, to find Holden Orson sat in the seat from where Gabriel had risen.
"You’re a little late if you’re here to stop me, Holden."
"Scoff."
Baal smiled.
"As if I would be here to stop you, Gabe. Have you not noticed the pattern here tonight? Ichabod, Rogan and now me? We’ve not been here to stop you – we’ve been here to make sure you genuinely, truly and honestly embraced the Chaos. Of course, Ichabod and I were here to make sure you’d bought in, but Rogan? Well he needed convincing himself. You did a good job, well done."
Baal tried not to sneer – he felt belittled, patronised - it was enough to make him explode.
"You’ve been distracted, Gabriel – we’ve all seen it. I’m not sure you’ve been in this 100% from the beginning. I think you accepted Ichabod’s proposal not because you wanted to join with us, but because you like to solve a puzzle and that tribute was one too juicy to say no to. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve played your part – you’ve even allowed Rogan to look like the spoiled child, but Ichabod and I have always wondered – always noticed that you stood apart from the group."
Baal moved to speak – but Holden cut him off.
"We always feared that you had your own agenda. Until now."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Laugh."
Baal rolled his eyes, but waited with all the patience he could muster.
"I’m talking about tonight – your distractions. You rid your world of each of your distractions in order to fully embrace the Chaos. We have to applaud you for that – it was bold, it was striking… It was beautiful."
"I think you might need to stay in my facility for a few nights, Holden – you’re making no sense."
"Of course… you don’t see it yet. Tell me – do you still believe those slayne tonight were those who we’re due to fight at Outlast?"
Baal stared – he had no idea how to answer that. Travis Roberts lay dead behind him, and Holden was trying to act like it never happened.
"Look again, Gabriel…"
Baal shook his head before turning on the spot. Immediately, he backed up. His eyes were wide and his mouth was dry – he felt dizzy. He felt hot. What… What was this? What was happening… No. No, that wasn’t the question… The question was… What had he done. He looked down at the body sat in the chair, eyes open with pupils blown… But they weren’t that of Travis Roberts… He looked down upon the body of Uriel… His second in command in the Order of the Inferno.
"You have truly embraced who you are… You have cut all ties. You have become a true Engine of Chaos. Gabriel Baal – congratulations."
Baal turned around, his head spinning yet Holden was gone. He felt that pang of pain in his stomach – his mind raced back over everything he’d done, everything he’d seen. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t see and then…
"No… No…"
He broke into a run, blindly making his journey his heart beating in his ears. He couldn’t have… He would never… He could never. He crashed against the gate to the swimming pool and it burst open. He ran to the poolside and could see the hand truck lay at the bottom… The face staring up at him filled him with horror. He staggered backwards and fell… The emotion broke and tears began to stream down his face. Lilith… His beautiful Lilith… What had he done.
He placed his hand into the inside the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out his phone. He felt numb, except for the hot tears rolling down his face. He dialed the only number he could think of…
"Gabe – you realise this is my night off? I’m about… Gabe? What is it? What’s wrong?"
"I’ve killed them Solomon… I’ve killed them all…"
"Who? What the fuck are you talkin' about?"
"Quentin…"
The blood pouring down his front, the life draining from his eyes.
"Riddick…"
The crunching of bone as the dumbbell connected with his skull.
"Daniel…"
The foaming pushing through the gaps in his metal mask as the electricity scorched his face beneath…
"Uriel…"
The life draining from his friend, his second in command, as the serum took it’s effect…
"And…"
He paused… This would be almost as hard for Saul as it had been for him.
"And?"
Baal could hear the urgency in Solomon’s voice now… He knew what was coming.
"My Lilith… My beautiful Lilith…"
Gabriel broke into uncontrollable sobs… He was broken, destroyed. He looked to the pool and thought of sweet release… He thought of the glass in his office… That would work. He thought of the serum in his pocket – he could do it now, he could be with them… He could tell them just how sorry he was. After a moment of silence, Solomon spoke. It was cold… The voice of a man doing a job.
"Go back to your office. Stay there. I’ll be there soon. We need to contain this fucking mess."
"I can’t go back… Quentin’s in there…"
"Just do what I fuckin’ say. Get back to your office and lock the door."
He sat back for a moment – he wanted to dive into the pool and pull Lilith out. He wanted to burn the building down around his ears. He wanted to curl up into a ball and face oblivion with those whose lives he’d taken. He fought against the tears, swallowed down the lump in his throat. He slowly climbed to his feet and began the walk back to his office on autopilot.
He ignored the scene of destruction in the gymnasium, he forced himself to stay away from Patient Zero’s room – even when he walked into his office he refused to look at the blood stained body sat across from his side of the desk. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths… He lay down on his couch and thought of the glass. He’d have to look at the body… Just once… But then he could take all of the pain away. It would all be gone…
It felt like seconds, but time must have passed more quickly. He was breathing still, when the door of the office burst open.
"Gabe… Gabe."
Baal didn’t answer, he just wiped his silent tears from his cheek – how could they all be gone?
"Where the fuck is it?"
"Is what?"
His answer was hollow - as if he had nothing else to give.
"The body, the fuck you think I’m talkin’ about."
Gabriel sat bolt up right and looked across his office – there was no-one there. Not Ingalls, not Barnes… No-one.
"This… This can’t be… Someone must have… Who could have moved it?"
"Well I fuckin’ hope it was you, otherwise we’ve got some major problems."
"Where would I have moved it… Where would…"
He looked to the floor underneath the chair – there was no blood. He looked to where the glass should have been, smashed against the desk, plunged into skin and dropped to the ground … Yet it was the wall that was damaged. The glass was shattered into a thousand pieces on the ground against the wall.
"Gabe… Barnes has just tweeted a good luck message to Eden…"
Gabriel blinked, and blinked and blinked… He took a deep breath, a mix of fear and relief washing over him. He quickly pulled out his cell phone… It dropped to the ground almost immediately. A message, from Lilith… Time stamped 2 minutes earlier… He shook his head, the relief making way for panic.
"Solomon…"
"Look, relax… You said there was Barnes, Riddick, Daniel, Lilith and Uriel… Right?"
"Yes… Yes…"
Solomon quickly shifted behind Baal’s desk and rewound the footage on all of his security cameras. There was nothing there – every single room was empty. Even when Baal was there, he was merely shouting into space.
"Gabriel… This wasn’t a dream, mate. This was…"
"A hallucination…"
He closed his eyes as his addled mind replayed each and every moment – three versions. Ingalls… Barnes… An empty office with a glass smashed against the wall. Jordan King… Riddick Andrews… A hand weight smashed against the ground. Mil Vidas… Daniel… An empty room, subjected to fury. Eden… Lilith… An empty hand truck dropped into a pool. Travis Roberts… Uriel… A self-administered shot that should have taken him down to the ground.
He blinked away the new tears now as the realisation began to set in… He would need to protect those around him. He would need a contingency.
"Solomon… We need a plan b. Just in case…"
"On it, boss… I’m on it."
Solomon turns on his heels and leaves the room, his cell phone attached to his ear. Gabriel leaned back in his chair and let out a chuckle… He’d imagined it all… He was two parts relieved to three parts terrified…
"Well…"
He grinned at his reflection across the room.
"This is inconvenient."
"Perhaps…"
His reflection answered.
"But it’s going to be fun… Allow me to introduce myself…"
