Awkward Realities and the Detour to the Dark Tower
Dec 4, 2021 8:59:09 GMT -5
Magdalena Lockheart likes this
Post by Rogan MacLean on Dec 4, 2021 8:59:09 GMT -5
The condo door beeped, then opened. Rogan stepped in with a grin, and Lucy trailed behind him, giggling. They were both wearing hoodies. Rogan’s advertised “The Chimera” on the front with the image of Gabriel Baal glaring through the words. Lucy’s showed off Eden Morgan with eyes bluer than naturally possible with “The Ice Queen” written on her torso.
It was the time of year in the Gulf that it was chilly in the mornings and nights, and what Rogan thought of as “just right” in the afternoons.
As they came further into the condo, something caught his eye. He looked at the island in the kitchen, where two masks rested: the Cthulhu mask and the Jenova-like mask from the Halloween store. CJ Wylde had brought him back. Or so it seemed anyway.
He clenched his jaw as Lucy’s eyes followed his gaze to the masks and stopped, immediately re-routing and walking to the kitchen island. She held up the Jenova mask and eyed Rogan. Not angrily, it wasn’t a glare. It wasn’t even a look of annoyance. It was a look of curiosity.
To say Rogan was shocked that Lucy wasn't angry was an understatement. She turned her gaze away from him and looked over the mask thoughtfully.
"So, you bought it anyway." She said, her eyes flickering up so that she was looking into Rogans eyes again.
He thought about telling her; telling her everything. About CJ haunting him in Lucy’s home, about CJ haunting him and putting him in a trance. He considered telling her it was CJ who, not just convinced him, but possessed him in buying the masks.
He considered, but he didn’t. Ironically, it was the insecurity that she may think he’s completely crazy.
Or worse, that he was using CJ to get close to her. And that, he knew, would end very badly.
So he chose to smile awkwardly in silence instead.
Yes, that was much better.
“Yeah,” he said, swallowing. His throat had become quite dry. “I guess I couldn’t pass it up.”
She shook her head, as she took a step closer to him, still holding the mask up. "Why?" She asked simply, her own dealings with her ex-husband leaving more of an impression than she'd like to admit - the spirits' words about Rogan replaying in her head, over and over again as she watched her partner intently, trying to anticipate what his response could be.
“I guess I’m intrigued by it,” he started, struggling to put his thoughts into words. He could feel his hands getting clammy. “We all have a dark side, or a side that we tap into, even if we don’t want to admit it.”
He looked at the Cthulhu mask.
“It’s not like a preference thing. It’s a curiosity thing. I don’t want you to think I’m attracted to the Jenova part of you, that’s not it. I’m attracted to you…”
He trailed off, realizing what he was saying.
“I mean! What I meant to say was, I don't want you to think I want Jenova, I want you.”
He winced.
“As my partner! My Co-op partner!”
He could feel his face hot and chuckled nervously. It must have looked pretty funny for a guy like Rogan to be tripping over his words the way he was. He turned and walked towards the balcony’s door, waving his hand in a circular motion and clearing his throat.
“What I’m trying to say is that, well, you know… Just as the Cthulhu persona is attached to me, the Jenova persona is attached to you. And while they aren’t what make either of us who we are, there are benefits to be taken from each one.”
He breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled the train back onto the tracks, so to speak.
“I certainly don’t want you to become that personality, especially after I saw what you did to Maggie. I do, however, like the edge that it gives you when you pull it from your bag of tricks every so often. And I think you like it, too. Controlled chaos, as Gabriel would view it.”
He finally turned and winked, smiling at her. She returned his smile, although hers was more of an amused smirk. It wasn’t often that the Dark Man had so much difficulty expressing his thoughts. She could sense the tension, the discomfort in him as she simply stood across the room, watching him with those bright blue eyes of hers.
Lucy took another step towards him, placing the mask in front of her face. But when she saw her reflection in the sliding glass door, she stopped and lowered the mask and shook her head, the smirk having fallen from her lips.
“I don’t know.” She finally replied, taking another glance down at that mask. “But maybe the separation between you and I… and those ‘personas’ isn’t as clear cut as we may think.”
Pausing, she turned away from Rogan and retrieved the Cthulhu mask from the kitchen island. Now holding both masks, she approached Rogan once more, this time closing the distance between them until she was standing directly in front of him. She held the Cthulhu mask up beside his face and tilted her head to the side.
CJ told Lucy that Jenova was simply what she’d named the pain and anguish she’d suffered throughout her life - So following that line of thought…
“How did Rogan MacLean become the Engine of Cthulhu? How did Rogan MacLean become… ‘The Dark Man’?” She asked softly, her eyes moving between the mask and Rogan’s face.
Rogan smiled sadly, and his eyes shifted away from hers.
“When my parents died,” he said, “I had trouble fitting in. I was drawn to literature from H.P. Lovecraft, and of course, Stephen King. I was fairly quiet after their deaths. I think that may have been what Sid sensed in me that he could latch onto: this empty void inside me. The Engine of Cthulhu, which essentially began as my Engine of Chaos persona, is simply my blind rage coming out. Years of confused grief, isolation, and feeling generally like I didn’t belong, come out when Cthulhu calls.”
He returned his gaze to Lucy.
“The Dark Man is my acceptance that I’m different. It’s what happened when I finally made it through the loss of my parents, as well as the loss of my mentor, as evil as he was. The Dark Man is the entity when they think they’ve killed me, only for me to be rebirthed. It’s a constant reinvention. The Dark Man is my constant reminder that everything is going to be okay. And he is what led me to you. Lucy Wylde. A shelter in my storm.”
He smiled again, this time it wasn’t sad but sincere. He took the Cthulhu mask gently from her and let his eyes rest on it for a long time.
"Are you sure you're talking about the right Lucy Wylde? You know, the same bitch who can't keep her shit together?" Lucy couldn't hide the stunned expression on her face. She certainly wasn't used to being referred to in that way. But regardless, she smiled softly to herself as she reached out and took his free hand in hers. He looked up at her then.
“You’ve seemed to keep it all together so far. Despite what the rumor mill says, you’ve been consistent to me. Our partnership has been defined by overcoming our past. And I think we’ve both managed to do well. It’s not obvious, like a neon sign. But it’s there. I know I feel it. And I think you do, too.”
He paused, glancing at his hand in hers, then smiled again and stepped closer.
“You’ve kept your shit together quite well, Ms. Wylde. And you’ve been there for me, even in my low points. Perhaps you’re just not used to having that reciprocated.”
He squeezed her hand gently.
“I won’t let you fall apart.”
A bit of pink rises to Lucy's cheeks as she looks up into his eyes. She trusted him. Implicitly. Even after everything she'd been through. She couldn't explain it.
There was something different about the look in his eyes in that moment, and like a flashbulb had gone off in her mind, the reality of the situation finally dawned on her and her eyes widened. She took a step back, waving that pseudo Jenova mask in her face like a fan, trying to look anything but completely terrified.
"I.. Umm.. Is it me or is it hot in here?" She chuckled awkwardly. Now it was her who was stumbling over her words. "I bet it's cold out on the balcony…"
Rogan smirked and looked back at the balcony through the glass door, then back at Lucy.
“It is a bit warm in here. Perhaps I’ll turn the air up a little. I’ll make some drinks while I’m at it. Would you like one?”
He moved towards the kitchen, still smiling with his back to her.
"Would you mind?" She replied, pulling the sliding door open. She shot a smile at his back as she stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the doorframe. "I'm just gonna… I need to step out for a second. I'll.. I'll be right back."
“Sure,” he said quietly, opening the refrigerator door. He grabbed a half-full bottle of whiskey and set it on the island, before taking a few short glasses from the cabinet. He glanced up as she stepped outside and leaned against the balcony railing, the wind blowing her blonde hair to the side.
Something was there.
Wasn’t it?
He poured some of the amber liquid into one of the glasses, still staring out at the balcony.
“That was… intense,” he breathed.
But, there was something in the way that she looked him in the eyes. There was a sort of darkness there. A fear. He saw it in the way she trembled, despite the electricity growing between them.
Trembling at the thought of feeling.
He poured a second drink, not hurrying. They both needed cool down time, otherwise this friendship might turn complicated quickly.
...and she’s scared as hell.
I am frightened, too.
I am scared like you.
He sighed and chuckled to himself, walking to the thermostat and turning the air up.
“Jenova and the Cthulhu,” he said to himself, his eyes fixing on the masks that lay on top of each other on the couch. “What a horrifying couple that would be.”
He walked back to the island and decided to take a gulp of his whiskey while he waited to join Lucy on the balcony.
“Several weeks ago, I named Centurion as one of the people I’d like to face off against next year.”
He leaned against the deck of the Pink Pony Pub, facing the ocean, dark and ominous. A relentless gulf breeze pushed his hair out of his eyes, deep green emeralds gazing out at the sky.
“But, the more I watch you, the more I realize just how out of touch you really are.”
Despite his gentle tone, he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the wind blowing across the beach. Clouds raced across a light blue horizon in front of him, the sun peeking out beneath one of them.
“Maybe you’re not out of touch elsewhere, but when it comes to the Coalition? Do you have any idea what goes on outside your little bubble of four, with your three little cheerleaders following you around everywhere?”
He turned his attention to the camera in front of him, glaring into the lens.
“I want to show you respect. I really do. And if you weren’t holding one of our championship belts, maybe I would be more inclined in doing so. But the fact is, you are holding one of our championships. You’re holding it just beneath your ass cheeks, and you’re desecrating it.”
He shrugged, pushing himself off the deck railing and taking a step parallel to the ocean.
“Maybe I’m mistaken. But I just don’t get the warm and fuzzies that you take pride in what you’re doing in this company. This is a side project for you. It’s an experiment to prove to yourself that you can hang with people who probably still consider you an outsider.”
He continued walking, his head down against the wind. A light blue v-neck billowed at his side as a particularly strong gust shoved its way through.
“There’s no denying your abilities. And, to remove any doubt you may have, there’s no denying that you can hang with anyone else, whether it’s in The Coalition, the XWF, or anywhere else in our world that you may fancy. I’m not questioning any of that, although I’m sure you do on a regular basis.”
He looked back into the camera once more.
“I’m questioning your interest here. I’ve come up short twice in the past few months in reaching the ominous dark tower that haunts me. Regardless of the results, I feel entitled enough to be a proper judge of character for those who desire to hold that championship. Maybe it’s a little egotistical of me to think that way, but I’m sure you’re the type of guy who can appreciate feeling entitled.”
He stepped down from the deck onto the sand, cool between his toes. In the summertime, the sand would be so hot that he would be seeking shade to stand in. Today, it was cool and comforting.
“You see, I want to talk about the things that I respect about you. I want to talk about how admirable it is that you’re still going strong so deep into your career.”
He paused and gazed into the camera with another smirk.
“Don’t worry. You won’t hear any age jokes from me. It isn’t your age that I’ll be thinking about when I stand across from you in the ring. It isn’t whether or not you can still cut a good promo, either.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What I’ll be thinking about is what can I possibly come up with to defeat a man who’s claimed to have seen it all? I mean, you’ve seen a lot in your career, sure. So how can I be the better man on Monday night and take from you my detour to the UGWC World Championship? How do I make myself a passenger on that ride to the field of roses, and just beyond that? My Dark Tower in the Horizons?”
The sun moved between the clouds and rays of light brightened the sand to a near-blinding whiteout.
“Your title reign has been an impressive one. You took it from the clown that seemed to be untouchable at the time. That alone was an impressive accomplishment. But since then, you’ve defended successfully against Travis Pierce, and then Johnny Hitmaker… well, that’s probably not all that impressive. But then you successfully defended against my partner, Lucy Wylde. But again… I question your future potential representation of the main accolade in my home. And that does not impress me. Nor should it impress anyone else. You want to know the truth, Centurion? You want to know why you’re still, to this day, looked upon as an outsider?”
He paused briefly, scratching absently at his chin beneath his beard.
“It’s because you are an outsider. You don’t claim us as your home, why should we claim you as anything more than our guest? Why should I treat you as anything but an impostor? A man who has come to take our accolades for the sole purpose of showing it off to his friends back in XWF and say, ‘see? I can be relevant somewhere else!’ ...but the sad truth, the piercing truth if I may borrow from a friend, is this: After I beat you, and take the Conquest championship from you, you will no longer be relevant. You’ll fall into the pit of irrelevance, you’ll hang your head, you’ll put your XWF shirt back on, and you’ll walk away with your tail between your legs.”
He glared into the camera once more.
“You’re not interested in actually being relevant among the rest of us. I’ve seen you when you arrive in Chicago. You walk in, you don’t talk to anybody, you go to the ring, you wrestle your match, and then you leave. You’re an outsider, because you want to be.”
After staring in silence for a few moments, he shrugged and looked away.
“Let me allow you to view the world behind my eyes. Tony Savage likes to call me the Walkin’ Dude. Were you aware of that, Centurion? Were you aware of anything about me? The Walkin’ Dude, that’s what I am. Because no matter what’s happened to me before, whether I’ve just taken a devastating loss, or whether I’ve been banished from the group that I created, I always come back.”
He shrugged again.
“Those things happen, you know as well as I do. The initial climb to the top seems to be the easy part in this business. It’s staying there that’s complicated. At one time I had a lot of trouble processing that I wasn’t invincible. I had trouble realizing a lot of things. But, now? I’ve put the pieces together. A lot of people say, ‘it’s not how you fall that matters, but how you get back up.’ It’s cliche and overstated, I know. But... you know what?”
His eyes darkened and he lowered his head, speaking slowly and low.
“I want that fucking title you’re carrying around. I want Donovan Hastings to look into his rearview mirror on his way to Horizons at my shiny, black Buick and say to himself, ‘goddamnit, it’s that fucking Rogan MacLean again.’ I want my beautiful face to be stuck in his head as he’s preparing to defend the UGWC World Heavyweight championship, worrying about if I’ll be there for a third time to challenge for it.”
A smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
“I want Sloane Taylor to look in her rearview mirror and get an adrenaline rush at the thought of a possible Final Girl and Dark Man match in her first UGWC World Heavyweight Championship defense. I want that adrenaline to fuel her and give her an edge over the Lord of Pain.”
He paused, his smile disappearing.
“See, I get it finally, Centurion. It isn’t at all about how you get up after you fall. It’s about never falling. It’s about positioning yourself to remain hovering at the top. It’s about weathering the storm, finding shelter, and then stepping out only a few steps backwards from where you were before. It’s about staying in the rearview mirror of those who think they’ve bested you. And that’s where I am. And that’s where I intend to stay. On Monday, when you stand across the ring from me–and I hope you’re paying enough attention to know not to underestimate me–I want you to look me in the eyes. I want you to feel it before the bell rings that you’ve just stepped into the ring with the man who’s going to take the Conquest title from you and disrupt the momentum you’ve been building over the last several weeks. And when I do, Centurion, I’ve a question for you.”
He paused again. Raising his eyebrows with a smirk, he continued.
“Will you hover around the top then? Or will you hang your head and spiral down to the bottom like so many others have done before you? I personally prefer the former. That would be more convincing to me that you are here to stay. That would convince me that you’re not just an outsider trying to prove to himself that the business hasn’t passed him by. The truth is, I sincerely do want to like you, Centurion. I want to be wrong about you. But first, I want to break you.”
He sighed cheerfully.
“And on Monday, that’s what I’m going to do. This isn’t the story of your resurgence, I’m afraid. It’s the story of mine.”
He smiled once more and gave a wink, turning and walking in the sand towards his condo. As he walked, he whistled to the chilling tune of El Silbon.
It was the time of year in the Gulf that it was chilly in the mornings and nights, and what Rogan thought of as “just right” in the afternoons.
As they came further into the condo, something caught his eye. He looked at the island in the kitchen, where two masks rested: the Cthulhu mask and the Jenova-like mask from the Halloween store. CJ Wylde had brought him back. Or so it seemed anyway.
He clenched his jaw as Lucy’s eyes followed his gaze to the masks and stopped, immediately re-routing and walking to the kitchen island. She held up the Jenova mask and eyed Rogan. Not angrily, it wasn’t a glare. It wasn’t even a look of annoyance. It was a look of curiosity.
To say Rogan was shocked that Lucy wasn't angry was an understatement. She turned her gaze away from him and looked over the mask thoughtfully.
"So, you bought it anyway." She said, her eyes flickering up so that she was looking into Rogans eyes again.
He thought about telling her; telling her everything. About CJ haunting him in Lucy’s home, about CJ haunting him and putting him in a trance. He considered telling her it was CJ who, not just convinced him, but possessed him in buying the masks.
He considered, but he didn’t. Ironically, it was the insecurity that she may think he’s completely crazy.
Or worse, that he was using CJ to get close to her. And that, he knew, would end very badly.
So he chose to smile awkwardly in silence instead.
Yes, that was much better.
“Yeah,” he said, swallowing. His throat had become quite dry. “I guess I couldn’t pass it up.”
She shook her head, as she took a step closer to him, still holding the mask up. "Why?" She asked simply, her own dealings with her ex-husband leaving more of an impression than she'd like to admit - the spirits' words about Rogan replaying in her head, over and over again as she watched her partner intently, trying to anticipate what his response could be.
“I guess I’m intrigued by it,” he started, struggling to put his thoughts into words. He could feel his hands getting clammy. “We all have a dark side, or a side that we tap into, even if we don’t want to admit it.”
He looked at the Cthulhu mask.
“It’s not like a preference thing. It’s a curiosity thing. I don’t want you to think I’m attracted to the Jenova part of you, that’s not it. I’m attracted to you…”
He trailed off, realizing what he was saying.
“I mean! What I meant to say was, I don't want you to think I want Jenova, I want you.”
He winced.
“As my partner! My Co-op partner!”
He could feel his face hot and chuckled nervously. It must have looked pretty funny for a guy like Rogan to be tripping over his words the way he was. He turned and walked towards the balcony’s door, waving his hand in a circular motion and clearing his throat.
“What I’m trying to say is that, well, you know… Just as the Cthulhu persona is attached to me, the Jenova persona is attached to you. And while they aren’t what make either of us who we are, there are benefits to be taken from each one.”
He breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled the train back onto the tracks, so to speak.
“I certainly don’t want you to become that personality, especially after I saw what you did to Maggie. I do, however, like the edge that it gives you when you pull it from your bag of tricks every so often. And I think you like it, too. Controlled chaos, as Gabriel would view it.”
He finally turned and winked, smiling at her. She returned his smile, although hers was more of an amused smirk. It wasn’t often that the Dark Man had so much difficulty expressing his thoughts. She could sense the tension, the discomfort in him as she simply stood across the room, watching him with those bright blue eyes of hers.
Lucy took another step towards him, placing the mask in front of her face. But when she saw her reflection in the sliding glass door, she stopped and lowered the mask and shook her head, the smirk having fallen from her lips.
“I don’t know.” She finally replied, taking another glance down at that mask. “But maybe the separation between you and I… and those ‘personas’ isn’t as clear cut as we may think.”
Pausing, she turned away from Rogan and retrieved the Cthulhu mask from the kitchen island. Now holding both masks, she approached Rogan once more, this time closing the distance between them until she was standing directly in front of him. She held the Cthulhu mask up beside his face and tilted her head to the side.
CJ told Lucy that Jenova was simply what she’d named the pain and anguish she’d suffered throughout her life - So following that line of thought…
“How did Rogan MacLean become the Engine of Cthulhu? How did Rogan MacLean become… ‘The Dark Man’?” She asked softly, her eyes moving between the mask and Rogan’s face.
Rogan smiled sadly, and his eyes shifted away from hers.
“When my parents died,” he said, “I had trouble fitting in. I was drawn to literature from H.P. Lovecraft, and of course, Stephen King. I was fairly quiet after their deaths. I think that may have been what Sid sensed in me that he could latch onto: this empty void inside me. The Engine of Cthulhu, which essentially began as my Engine of Chaos persona, is simply my blind rage coming out. Years of confused grief, isolation, and feeling generally like I didn’t belong, come out when Cthulhu calls.”
He returned his gaze to Lucy.
“The Dark Man is my acceptance that I’m different. It’s what happened when I finally made it through the loss of my parents, as well as the loss of my mentor, as evil as he was. The Dark Man is the entity when they think they’ve killed me, only for me to be rebirthed. It’s a constant reinvention. The Dark Man is my constant reminder that everything is going to be okay. And he is what led me to you. Lucy Wylde. A shelter in my storm.”
He smiled again, this time it wasn’t sad but sincere. He took the Cthulhu mask gently from her and let his eyes rest on it for a long time.
"Are you sure you're talking about the right Lucy Wylde? You know, the same bitch who can't keep her shit together?" Lucy couldn't hide the stunned expression on her face. She certainly wasn't used to being referred to in that way. But regardless, she smiled softly to herself as she reached out and took his free hand in hers. He looked up at her then.
“You’ve seemed to keep it all together so far. Despite what the rumor mill says, you’ve been consistent to me. Our partnership has been defined by overcoming our past. And I think we’ve both managed to do well. It’s not obvious, like a neon sign. But it’s there. I know I feel it. And I think you do, too.”
He paused, glancing at his hand in hers, then smiled again and stepped closer.
“You’ve kept your shit together quite well, Ms. Wylde. And you’ve been there for me, even in my low points. Perhaps you’re just not used to having that reciprocated.”
He squeezed her hand gently.
“I won’t let you fall apart.”
A bit of pink rises to Lucy's cheeks as she looks up into his eyes. She trusted him. Implicitly. Even after everything she'd been through. She couldn't explain it.
There was something different about the look in his eyes in that moment, and like a flashbulb had gone off in her mind, the reality of the situation finally dawned on her and her eyes widened. She took a step back, waving that pseudo Jenova mask in her face like a fan, trying to look anything but completely terrified.
"I.. Umm.. Is it me or is it hot in here?" She chuckled awkwardly. Now it was her who was stumbling over her words. "I bet it's cold out on the balcony…"
Rogan smirked and looked back at the balcony through the glass door, then back at Lucy.
“It is a bit warm in here. Perhaps I’ll turn the air up a little. I’ll make some drinks while I’m at it. Would you like one?”
He moved towards the kitchen, still smiling with his back to her.
"Would you mind?" She replied, pulling the sliding door open. She shot a smile at his back as she stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the doorframe. "I'm just gonna… I need to step out for a second. I'll.. I'll be right back."
“Sure,” he said quietly, opening the refrigerator door. He grabbed a half-full bottle of whiskey and set it on the island, before taking a few short glasses from the cabinet. He glanced up as she stepped outside and leaned against the balcony railing, the wind blowing her blonde hair to the side.
Something was there.
Wasn’t it?
He poured some of the amber liquid into one of the glasses, still staring out at the balcony.
“That was… intense,” he breathed.
But, there was something in the way that she looked him in the eyes. There was a sort of darkness there. A fear. He saw it in the way she trembled, despite the electricity growing between them.
Trembling at the thought of feeling.
He poured a second drink, not hurrying. They both needed cool down time, otherwise this friendship might turn complicated quickly.
...and she’s scared as hell.
I am frightened, too.
I am scared like you.
He sighed and chuckled to himself, walking to the thermostat and turning the air up.
“Jenova and the Cthulhu,” he said to himself, his eyes fixing on the masks that lay on top of each other on the couch. “What a horrifying couple that would be.”
He walked back to the island and decided to take a gulp of his whiskey while he waited to join Lucy on the balcony.
“Several weeks ago, I named Centurion as one of the people I’d like to face off against next year.”
He leaned against the deck of the Pink Pony Pub, facing the ocean, dark and ominous. A relentless gulf breeze pushed his hair out of his eyes, deep green emeralds gazing out at the sky.
“But, the more I watch you, the more I realize just how out of touch you really are.”
Despite his gentle tone, he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the wind blowing across the beach. Clouds raced across a light blue horizon in front of him, the sun peeking out beneath one of them.
“Maybe you’re not out of touch elsewhere, but when it comes to the Coalition? Do you have any idea what goes on outside your little bubble of four, with your three little cheerleaders following you around everywhere?”
He turned his attention to the camera in front of him, glaring into the lens.
“I want to show you respect. I really do. And if you weren’t holding one of our championship belts, maybe I would be more inclined in doing so. But the fact is, you are holding one of our championships. You’re holding it just beneath your ass cheeks, and you’re desecrating it.”
He shrugged, pushing himself off the deck railing and taking a step parallel to the ocean.
“Maybe I’m mistaken. But I just don’t get the warm and fuzzies that you take pride in what you’re doing in this company. This is a side project for you. It’s an experiment to prove to yourself that you can hang with people who probably still consider you an outsider.”
He continued walking, his head down against the wind. A light blue v-neck billowed at his side as a particularly strong gust shoved its way through.
“There’s no denying your abilities. And, to remove any doubt you may have, there’s no denying that you can hang with anyone else, whether it’s in The Coalition, the XWF, or anywhere else in our world that you may fancy. I’m not questioning any of that, although I’m sure you do on a regular basis.”
He looked back into the camera once more.
“I’m questioning your interest here. I’ve come up short twice in the past few months in reaching the ominous dark tower that haunts me. Regardless of the results, I feel entitled enough to be a proper judge of character for those who desire to hold that championship. Maybe it’s a little egotistical of me to think that way, but I’m sure you’re the type of guy who can appreciate feeling entitled.”
He stepped down from the deck onto the sand, cool between his toes. In the summertime, the sand would be so hot that he would be seeking shade to stand in. Today, it was cool and comforting.
“You see, I want to talk about the things that I respect about you. I want to talk about how admirable it is that you’re still going strong so deep into your career.”
He paused and gazed into the camera with another smirk.
“Don’t worry. You won’t hear any age jokes from me. It isn’t your age that I’ll be thinking about when I stand across from you in the ring. It isn’t whether or not you can still cut a good promo, either.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What I’ll be thinking about is what can I possibly come up with to defeat a man who’s claimed to have seen it all? I mean, you’ve seen a lot in your career, sure. So how can I be the better man on Monday night and take from you my detour to the UGWC World Championship? How do I make myself a passenger on that ride to the field of roses, and just beyond that? My Dark Tower in the Horizons?”
The sun moved between the clouds and rays of light brightened the sand to a near-blinding whiteout.
“Your title reign has been an impressive one. You took it from the clown that seemed to be untouchable at the time. That alone was an impressive accomplishment. But since then, you’ve defended successfully against Travis Pierce, and then Johnny Hitmaker… well, that’s probably not all that impressive. But then you successfully defended against my partner, Lucy Wylde. But again… I question your future potential representation of the main accolade in my home. And that does not impress me. Nor should it impress anyone else. You want to know the truth, Centurion? You want to know why you’re still, to this day, looked upon as an outsider?”
He paused briefly, scratching absently at his chin beneath his beard.
“It’s because you are an outsider. You don’t claim us as your home, why should we claim you as anything more than our guest? Why should I treat you as anything but an impostor? A man who has come to take our accolades for the sole purpose of showing it off to his friends back in XWF and say, ‘see? I can be relevant somewhere else!’ ...but the sad truth, the piercing truth if I may borrow from a friend, is this: After I beat you, and take the Conquest championship from you, you will no longer be relevant. You’ll fall into the pit of irrelevance, you’ll hang your head, you’ll put your XWF shirt back on, and you’ll walk away with your tail between your legs.”
He glared into the camera once more.
“You’re not interested in actually being relevant among the rest of us. I’ve seen you when you arrive in Chicago. You walk in, you don’t talk to anybody, you go to the ring, you wrestle your match, and then you leave. You’re an outsider, because you want to be.”
After staring in silence for a few moments, he shrugged and looked away.
“Let me allow you to view the world behind my eyes. Tony Savage likes to call me the Walkin’ Dude. Were you aware of that, Centurion? Were you aware of anything about me? The Walkin’ Dude, that’s what I am. Because no matter what’s happened to me before, whether I’ve just taken a devastating loss, or whether I’ve been banished from the group that I created, I always come back.”
He shrugged again.
“Those things happen, you know as well as I do. The initial climb to the top seems to be the easy part in this business. It’s staying there that’s complicated. At one time I had a lot of trouble processing that I wasn’t invincible. I had trouble realizing a lot of things. But, now? I’ve put the pieces together. A lot of people say, ‘it’s not how you fall that matters, but how you get back up.’ It’s cliche and overstated, I know. But... you know what?”
His eyes darkened and he lowered his head, speaking slowly and low.
“I want that fucking title you’re carrying around. I want Donovan Hastings to look into his rearview mirror on his way to Horizons at my shiny, black Buick and say to himself, ‘goddamnit, it’s that fucking Rogan MacLean again.’ I want my beautiful face to be stuck in his head as he’s preparing to defend the UGWC World Heavyweight championship, worrying about if I’ll be there for a third time to challenge for it.”
A smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
“I want Sloane Taylor to look in her rearview mirror and get an adrenaline rush at the thought of a possible Final Girl and Dark Man match in her first UGWC World Heavyweight Championship defense. I want that adrenaline to fuel her and give her an edge over the Lord of Pain.”
He paused, his smile disappearing.
“See, I get it finally, Centurion. It isn’t at all about how you get up after you fall. It’s about never falling. It’s about positioning yourself to remain hovering at the top. It’s about weathering the storm, finding shelter, and then stepping out only a few steps backwards from where you were before. It’s about staying in the rearview mirror of those who think they’ve bested you. And that’s where I am. And that’s where I intend to stay. On Monday, when you stand across the ring from me–and I hope you’re paying enough attention to know not to underestimate me–I want you to look me in the eyes. I want you to feel it before the bell rings that you’ve just stepped into the ring with the man who’s going to take the Conquest title from you and disrupt the momentum you’ve been building over the last several weeks. And when I do, Centurion, I’ve a question for you.”
He paused again. Raising his eyebrows with a smirk, he continued.
“Will you hover around the top then? Or will you hang your head and spiral down to the bottom like so many others have done before you? I personally prefer the former. That would be more convincing to me that you are here to stay. That would convince me that you’re not just an outsider trying to prove to himself that the business hasn’t passed him by. The truth is, I sincerely do want to like you, Centurion. I want to be wrong about you. But first, I want to break you.”
He sighed cheerfully.
“And on Monday, that’s what I’m going to do. This isn’t the story of your resurgence, I’m afraid. It’s the story of mine.”
He smiled once more and gave a wink, turning and walking in the sand towards his condo. As he walked, he whistled to the chilling tune of El Silbon.
