Post by LACKLAN on Jan 12, 2019 10:01:39 GMT -5
...the wind…
...it howls…
Yeah, enough of that crap.
For those who don’t know me...which means you have been living under a freakin’ rock for the last decade...my name is Severin. Yeah, THAT Severin. I’m sure you’ve read my books. I’m here today because I’m working on something special. Something important. Something...monumental? I guess? It’s my life’s work, I know that. Its a story of pain and loss. Of love. Of redemption. Of tragedy.
In short: Professional wrestling.
Many moons ago, I left my job on the west coast as a wrestling journalist in order to pursue a specific story. Why did I do it? I’ll get there. The what is pretty easy, though. There was this dude on the east coast who was setting the business on fire. Big guy. Lots of muscles. Trained in Japan, and back in those days, that meant something. He was different. His best thing, though, was his ability to work the stick. Cut promos. Do interviews. Work with media. Even when he lost matches, he somehow walked out the winner. Got people to follow him. Both fans and other wrestlers. Talked about God alot. Stuff about him being what God wanted in the sport.
Now, I’m not saying that I believed him. Hell, his shit was crazy. But he had a way with words. And with people. And even though he regularly did things that were bad, things like whipping people, or bashing their brains in with a sledge, or, hell, even crucifying them, his followers never left his side. It was a pretty wild, running up and down the road with him. Recording what he did. Where he was. Who he was with.
To the very bitter end.
And I hate being back here.
The guards didn't bother me as I drove through the gate. In my ‘06 Tundra, of course. The one with the good tires. No one bothered me because they know me here. I wasn’t welcome for a while, not after the Nico Chau incident, but we eventually patched those wounds. That’s the thing about time and wounds, ya know? Enough passes and we forget what hurt so much. So, I drove through the gate and down the road. Long road. Winding. Right through blueberry fields. Always hated those things. Through the fields and past the houses. Lots of people live in those houses. They weren’t there in the beginning, of course. Nothing but fields, then. But as more people joined him, as more people wanted to be with him and become his church, they needed a place to stay. And so they got built. Past the houses and into the square. Selena’s Square.
My Little Lena.
The Queen of Red wasn’t the first person to be in charge of this place, ya know. Not even the second, actually. Ol’ Japles had a few “wives” before he actually married the crazy chick from France before he died, but none mattered more than my Lena. She was the reason I made my way from sunny California and the L.A. wrestling scene to the frigid place. My best friend. Obsessed with this wrestler in the East who talked about God.
And now she’s dead.
This whole place stinks of death. It permeates the air. You take it into you when you breathe. You can taste it when you eat those damn blueberries or drink from the Penobscot River. Nico? Dead. Jenna? Dead. Lena? Dead. The old man’s parents? Dead. The old man himself? Dead. Even my wife…
It came suddenly a little over a year ago. Coughing turned to hacking. Hacking to blood splattering. Off to the hospital. Most of its a daze. But I remember the doctor coming out to tell me what had happened.
Christ, I miss you, Z.
This place touched her and now she’s gone, too. Hell, the kid almost died in that car wreck in 2017. I think I even tried to warn the actress about what happens to people in this place, tried to get to her take her infatuation and bail, but she didn’t pay attention. Those brown eyes of hers were stuck on the kid and I knew she was a lost cause. Hope she doesn’t end up dead, too.
The Square is busy, but that doesn’t stop me from finding somewhere to park my truck. I know this place better than anyone gathered here. Was here when it was build. When the paving stones were laid over the dirt. Out of my truck and walking towards the center of the square where everyone is gathered. Got one of my unfiltered Camel’s lit, because if you are going to smoke, fucking smoke. None of this vaping shit. Just as pussy as cloves, if you ask me. My steps are heavy against the paving stones, but I’m not surprised. Been gaining weight, lately.
You’re not there to slap the fork out of my hands anymore, Z.
Feels like everyone in the compound is in the square tonight. Lots of faces I recognize, though they won’t recognize me. My beard wasn’t this grey before. Not my hair, either. I see more kids than I remember. I thought it was weird when people started to bring their kids around Ol’ JPL, and started having families, all things considered. Who wants to bring their kids up worshiping a man who had a habit of slamming a crown of thorns into someone’s head? Guess the same kind of people who thought that basing an entire society on wrestling and combat sports was a good thing.
I weave my way through the crowd, gently pushing people, until I get to the front. The gates leading to the manor are locked, of course, and stretch up high into the sky. But they pale compared to the Spire. I have to crane my head all the way back to see the top. The Spire was where the kid used to have her rooms back in the day, so that she could look out at all the “peasants.” Wonder where she’s living now? Haven’t talked to her since you died, Z.
I can see the Queen on the platform halfway up. What everyone is here to see. Can’t miss her, that’s for damn sure, not with that hair. JPL had that weird silver hair when I met him, before he lost it all in the fire, and he always had a thing for blondes. Lena was a blonde. So was Mary. Others. And when the Queen came into the picture, she was doing the whole platinum bleached thing. Looks like she’s back to that. Redmaine’s up there with her too, among her group of Yes Men. Damn terrorist. Blown any kids up lately, Red?
Lot of cameras up there. Now that I look around, I see more in the crowd, too. Even a big screen to show the Queen to the masses. Not surprising. The Lacklan family have always been masters of media. From way back when people traded tapes of JPL both wrestling and preaching, all the way to now with the kid’s fledgling media company. Hell, even some of the Church’s clergy as screwing around online and helping get into people’s heads. The Queen and her minions have Roxy shook to her core and showing her Inner Kem. Thought she was supposed to be some kinda badass.
The crowd just got silent. The Queen’s walking forward to the podium. I don’t need to look at the giant screen in order to see her though, at least not the important stuff. I’m sure she’s wearing some ungodly expensive dress. I’m sure it was made with silk worms fed organically who lived in the virgin waters off some river in Asia or something. But the important thing is all that stuff shining on her waist. Her title belt. The thing that keeps all of these people together.
“Bonjour, dear Children.”
Her French accent is strong as it amplifies through the Square. I used to think her voice was kinda hot, ya know? All the “zee” sounds, and how she switched around descriptions. JPL had a “mask white,” not a “white mask.”. She and JPL fell for each other immediately, even with that big age difference. And even though she had a fiance at the time. Weird shit, Z. Glad you weren’t around for that stuff. The two of them were thick immediately, causing problems for that shithole Sin Wrestling. Ol’ Japles was the World Champ and she was the Harle to his Joker. Or, with that accent, the Morticia to his Gomez. I remember Theresa gave them shit because, in the love triangle that was the two of them and her cucked boyfriend, the Nazi, there wasn’t exactly what you would call a sympathetic participant. Still better than Twilight, I guess.
“I stand before today in a very different place than I did a year ago. I stand before you not the creature of the streets looking for refuge. Not the wraith floating through the world unseen. Not the wisp of memory conveniently tucked away in the recesses of the mind. No. Non! I stand before you...the Queen of Red! The Champion of Chaos! Le Bord de Dieu!”
A can’t help by smirk as a cheer rises up in the people around me. This group of people have always been looking for someone like Ava, just as they looked for the old man years before. This group of people are every outcast of society you can name, after all. Punks. Goths. Rejects. Society rarely loves them. But they found a home, here. They live here. They breathe here. They bleed here. JPL always offered them a home, and a place to belong. A family. They don’t have families. At least they didn’t. But here at the compound, with the Path of the Light, they found an embrace. Crackpots, every one of them. But still a family.
“The entire wrestling landscape has changed in that year, dear Children. At this time last year, the business was watched over by Zane Scott, who held two of the championships which we raise up with so much reverence. The World Championship was vacated by the new Creative Director, and the Cross-Hemisphere championship was held, if but momentarily, by a woman headed straight into the Lake of Fire. But the year saw the return of Alan Wallace, who would dominate much of it, even if by proxy at times. It saw the Court be betrayed by one of its own, the liar and infidel Somers, who flailed wildly in his attempts to hold onto even a sliver of his relevance. It saw Eden Morgan leave this world to sit at the side of the Creator, may my friend find eternal happiness. It saw the rise and fall of the Harvester, as I predicted. It saw the evolution of youth, the degradation of those set in their ways, and above all things, the elevation of the true championship in this business.”
Let’s be honest here: I don’t think much of Ava’s title. JPL probably wouldn’t, either. A big part of his original “mission” from God was to destroy garbage wrestling, after all. He REALLY hated that shitty trend in the 90’s, let me tell you. But, to be fair, he was really good at it, too. Especially barbed wire in Texas. So hey, maybe he would be cool with his wife busting out chairs and tables in the name of the Church’s mission statement. Oh great, now she’s holding up the title. Certainly isn’t the prettiest thing. And is that duct tape holding it together? I think that's duct tape! At least the gold shines, though.
“THIS, my dear Children! I became the face of this business, the reason fans flocked to the building, when I first ascended my throne at the inaugural Trios Tournament. And though I had my momentary misstep against the Harvester, I finished the year as not only the rightful Chaos Champion, but as the person many believe to be the greatest Chaos Champion there has ever been! And it is my endeavor, from this moment and until the very end of this calendar year if need be, to prove to any and all within the business that not only am I the greatest Chaos Champion there has been, but the greatest Champion there is...period.
“First! I make the charge that, while the division was established for another, and while names have been spouted by the likes of a Pierce in order to pull emotion from ancient wood, it is I who define the Chaos division, both now and forever. When we arrive back in the Synergy Arena for the first show of the year, I will have held this championship for 199 days overall, with only but a small handful of people having more than I. More than Scott. More than Somers. More than Baal. More than Orson. And I will pass Daisuke. I will pass MacLean. And with just two more defenses of my title, just two more fools to be crushed under my weight, I shall leap past that drunkard Chaos, push aside Pierce as I have done twice before, and dethrone the puppet master himself, Ichabod. And then, there shall be no question. No query. No doubt. That I am not only the Chaos Champion...but I am THE Champion of Chaos!”
My skin crawls as the crowd breaks out into a cheer. She holds the title high and what little gold it has shines even brighter. I can see the smile on her face. I can see the madness in her eyes. That’s the thing about this place, ya know? Madness reigns, here. Japles was mad. All of his wives were mad. I hope the kid will turn out okay.
“But this is not all, dear Children! For while I spent the entire year showing the world what TRUE greatness is, there were others who contended with me. Most of those have fallen, either to circumstance or their own demons, but the other champions within the business stood tall with me at the end. Wallace squashed his little bug of a challenger as we knew would happen, completing the bookend of her demise that I started in May. Lockheart put her definitive stamp on the title she chased all year. And our surprising duo of Vaughn and Rydell pushed every analyst to the end of their wits with their third successful defense in Cooperation. And it is because of this legitimate display of near domination by four of the five championship holders at Horizons that I embark on my second endeavor of the year: To prove that I stand tallest. Which is why I entered the Round Robin Tournament.”
Another cheer breaks out and I have to give her a nod of respect. THAT was something the old man would have approved of, no matter what. Japles was a world traveler, which must be in the blood when you look at the kid, but he never forgot his roots. You want to settle something in Japan? You have a tournament.
“The UGWC would have you believe that the winner receives an opportunity at the World Title, but this is folly. For by entering the tournament, I have ensured that whoever walks out of Infinity as the World Champion, whether it be Wallace or Vaughn, will have an opportunity to face the TRUE face of this company, the Champion of Chaos, at the Trios. For in the next two months, I shall stand face to face with every person the Consortium places before me, and I shall show them the mettle of the House of Lacklan. I shall show them the Fist of God. I shall show them what and who I am, His very edge and blade. And after I defeat competitor after competitor, I shall take down both the champion and the winner of the minor tournament at Infinity, and help them embrace His love through pain.
“It is a foregone conclusion, dear Children, that I shall be the victor of the Round Robin Tournament. For such an endeavor takes an unyielding resolve. It takes possessing of uncompromising stamina. It takes a person who is not afraid to face anyone, who is not afraid to delve into the Chaos, who does not simply pick their spots, wallow in the mediocrity of the middle, or serve a piping hot plate of squash and zucchini. The winner of the Round Robin will be the person who never faltered, never failed, never slept away their time across last year. The winner can and will only be me, the person who gave the UGWC their body and mind every week, without fail.”
Not gonna lie: She’s got a point. Guys like Vain, Somers, and Fear had plenty of matches, but only one person took on the challenge of no days off. Good or bad, she did it.
“The tournament opens with a woman whom I have grown to know intimately in the last few months. From the pitch and grid of the football field, to social occasions in this very land, to the blood-slicked mat of Horizons, Roxy Cotton and I have shared much. And unfortunately for her, as much as I have liked her thus far, as much as I have felt that she, above all of her friends, had the potential to make something of herself, she has shown to the world who she really is:
“Dave Rydell.”
I raise my eyebrow at this, but I hear a chuckle from those around me.
“Last month, I gifted my Horizons opponents with resolutions for them to aspire to. I gave them myself, a pillar of hope and light, for them to pray before. None of them succeeded. None of them were able to raise up out of the muck and mire and be who I and God wish for them to be. My gift to Rydell was to stand on his own two feet. For too long, he had been PROPPED UP by the Vaughn girl! His own attempts to defeat foes when not propped up were failures, and I wished him ever so much to cast aside the necessity of his partner. But he failed. He was, and is, nothing without the Vaughn girl.
“And as much as I loathe to say it, the same can be said of Cotton! When she arrived for the Trios tournament, her victory until the final was because she was PROPPED UP by her stablemates! When she won the Cooperative Titles, she was PROPPED UP by the Vaughn girl! When she waged the War of Tug, she was PROPPED UP by the Captain! When she made her push to fight Pierce, she was PROPPED UP by the inspiration of the Harvester! Even outside of this company, deep in the brambles of outlaw groups filled with sluts and whores, she has only found substantive victory by being PROPPED UP by the likes of Hilton and Grey! And each and every one of those cases and teams, she has proven this point again and again:
“She IS Dave Rydell.
“I gifted her the resolution of finding relevance in the sea of greatness she has surrounded herself with, but all she has found is more of the same gob. She is a champion of television, yet clearly the lesser when compared to the other champion of television in her circle. She is a wide receiver, the self-proclaimed greatest competitor in the league, yet outclassed weekly by two others. She is engaged to a nice man, but can never get him to complete his commitment, and thus leave her forever hoping and wishing. Why, even in the acclaimed Rap Battle 2019, she was soundly defeated by a walrus of a woman! And, potentially even worse, she is not even the star of her team when it comes to half-dressed boxing! How sad, the state of affairs for Cotton, that she is the Rydell to Hilton’s Vaughn!”
This got an even bigger laugh from those around me.
“As we begin this Round Robin tournament, my dear friend Roxy will have to come to grips with reality. Just like how someday she will have to embrace that the Earth is round and Tom Cruise is not akin to God, she will realize that her need and desire to defeat me will never come to pass. She failed in her personal resolution to begin this year as the Chaos Champion, she failed in my resolution to be worthy of being among her peers as more than just someone to laugh at, and she will fail again on Monday. And just as she has proven that her cam show is but the spiritual successor to O’Malleys, she will prove that her inclusion in this tournament is just to check the boxes for her betters. She will prove that, while her successes in bingo halls and strip clubs are numerous, her ability to rise above the rabble on the large stage of the UGWC will forever be diminished as she stands in the shadow my greatness casts.
“And as I have my professional endeavors this year of both solidifying my own place as the matriarch of the Chaos division and continuing to be the standard for with all champions in this business must compare themselves to, I also have personal goals. One of those is to make an honest woman out of Roxy Cotton, even if I must drag her out of her swamp by her ears.
“Let us listen to her cry as a child covered in brackish water as I pull her by her both those lobes!
“Let us watch her kick and stomp her feet in tantrum!
“But all of the defiance in those cries and whines will be nothing compared to my stalwart determination. Her resistance will crumble in the face of my dogged and fabled stamina. And it is with true and utter hope that she learns from my exalted example as she watches me not only win this tournament, but go on to face both the World Champion and Global winner and show them what a TRUE champion looks like. And then, as she watches me push down any and all who would dare to believe themselves to be above me, she will fall to her knees, prostrate before me, her eyes WELLING WITH TEARS...and she shall say...AS ALL OF YOU WILL SOMEDAY SAY….'THANK YOU...QUEEN...MOTHER!'”
She is breathing so hard that I can see her bosom swell. I think I can even see spital flying from her mouth. But then the crazed look in her face fades back to calmness, and I wonder if the craze was even there or if I was seeing things.
“But until then, dear Children, I wish you all adieu and for you each to have bonne nuit.”
She gives a nod. A small one. And with a twirl, she is waking off the platform and through the door that I know leads to what used to be the kid’s rooms. I see the hulking terrorist follow suit. And as I look around, I see all of the denizens of this mad land talking among themselves with excited voices. I shake my head and make my way back to my truck, gently pushing and prodding as I need.
I’m here for a reason. I’m here to finish my life’s work. Because the story that I thought was finished...the rise, reign, and death of Jean-Paul Lacklan...is not what I thought it was. The House of Lacklan is larger than anyone thought. And so, I will do what I do. And I invite you all to join me on this quest. But be forewarned:
Madness reigns in the Lacklan Dynasty.
x2
