Writer’s Note: The following roleplay contain graphic description of violence. Caution is advised. I do not condone sexual assault or rape. In fact, I had a very hard time writing this scene, which is surprisingly because ten years ago I also explored such topics and others. But I think at this age, I have matured enough to understand just how awful rape is. I legitimately felt bad for the character. When I used to write such dark and violent themes, I believe it was at point in my life where I failed to realize that women were individuals with rights and deserve to have dignity just as any man. Xander Valentine is not a good person. I think that over the past ten years, I’ve shown that he isn’t. And just because he is character that I ‘roleplay’ with, I really do use the term lightly in that I ‘roleplay’ him. His views and the others in this piece does not reflect my thoughts, opinions. It’s that of characters.
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There was once a man who owned a hill. Not quite a mountain, but much greater than a mound of dirt. Collared by the greenest woods, a proud tower perched atop the hill, casting a shadow all around. A giant sat often atop his tower, a bottle of red wine and platter of cheese rested upon a side table within arm’s length. His long legs dangled over the tower’s battlements. A crown of withered laurel wrapped around his head; a crown in which no one coronated him, perhaps he was self-anointed. He had carved out his territory, taking this land from others by brute force. As a result of his campaign, he considered himself the king of the mountain, yet he never turned his back to the misty tops behind that reached towards the skies. He refused to turn around. Instead, he allowed for the trees to be his serfs, laboring in his land underneath the oppressive sun.
Despite this, when the others came, chopped each tree down, he didn’t blink. He ignored the slight. He continued to pretend that the forest that was his remained there, tall and majestic. He denied the thought that there were others who dared to poach his lands. He refused to entertain the possibility that there were fools who would loot his land until there’s nothing left besides a wasteland. No, never, the realization never blossomed in his closed mind, never accepting that there were high mountains casting their shadows onto him and there were pillagers running rampant underneath his feet. That would have destroyed his only possession, a fragile ego. No, everything that didn’t agree with his mandate of heaven did not exist in his world. He didn’t want to accept that kings fought a constant war of attrition to remain at the top. Instead, he wanted to wrap himself with a security blanket, made out of pure delusions and make-believe.
Soon enough, there were no trees in sight. Disrepair and weathering saw the magnificent tower crumble underneath its weight. The crown lost, misplaced, perhaps even stolen off the top of his head. No longer able to deny the truth that laid bared before, Xander pulled at the collar strapped around his neck. Shadowy figures stood around him, holding several leashes, which all originated from that tightly fashioned collar. The will of others moved him, side to side, as if he longer had any free will. Survival pushed him forward into the darkening evening. And the worst part of this enslavement was the deep rooted awareness that this was all his fault. There was no on else to blame for this other than the fool that dared to ignore the fire burning all around him as false pretense was torn down. He had no refuse in his delusions. The truth invaded him consciousness and refused to leave the once proud pauper.
Xander, the downtrodden dog, stepped out of his rental car and braced himself for what Chad Evans had in store for him. Grave crunched underneath his boots. He felt as if choked by humidity in the air, breathes felt heavy, the fog seemed thick enough to cut with a knife. The fog rolled off the nearby lake, casting the mansion in an eerie gloom. Xander stood in front of cast iron gates with spikes piercing towards the heavens. A crackled paved road ran behind the gates, all the way up to the decrepit mansion. The structure rested beneath dense treetops, blocking out whatever remained of the dying daylight.
Was this really the place?
On his cell phone, which he noticed the lower battery symbol pulsing, he checked the address Chad had sent to him in a text. The address matched the location as given in the car’s GPS. Once again, one of his masters had commanded him forth and to whatever shithole they command him to, he had no choice but obey. In that thought, to believe had had masters, Xander almost choked on his pride. He spat his pride out onto the gravel. He didn’t need the anchor called pride. AS much loathing he harbored against the individual named Chad Evans, the benefits of serving the man included more monetary and political influence than he could ever imagined. The limits to the Evans family’s reach didn’t seem to exist, and Chad continued to surprise Xander. He realized now that wrestling had always been a fancy of theirs, something neither James of Chad ever needed, a whimper of their boyhood where they desperately cried out to masculinity. Despite all the riches cast at their feet, the snobs could never find a whiff of satisfaction… definitely in Chad’s case. Chad searched out playthings and pets, entertained his libertine senses as he waited the end of his existence. Xander found himself among Chad’s toy collection.
With a tight grip to test the sturdiness of the iron gate, Xander felt surprised that the gate was not locked or even completely closed for that matter. Rust slowed the opening of the gate but after a bit of momentum placed behind his push, the gate turned on its worn hinges. Xander started onto the path that curved up to the mansion. As asked, Xander hurried in his travels to meet the deadline Chad Evans had set. He recalled, with a little bit of regret, how he cut short his mourning besides Calli’s grave. Even thought he saw the casket lowered, the truth still felt unreal. In the back of his head, he also noted that he pushed aside his son’s situation in order to catch the next plane to middle of nowhere. Xander reminded himself the reasoning: Chad had money; Chad has influence; Chad meant survival. Calli was dead, she could no longer do anything for him even if she had forgiven him. As for his son? His son was simply a terrible reminder of the love he had tarnished, one he wished would vanish forever from his consciousness. As Xander stepped past the gates, a loud speak, boxed at one of the pillars holding the gates, buzzed with life.
Xander turned back at the sound.
“Hurry, Xander. The fun awaits,” Chad’s voice crackled, echoing between the silent oaks. In his voice, Xander felt that Chad’s bore excitement. What incited enthusiasm in his former nemesis? Xander shuddered to know. He at least understood that whatever awaited for him, the purpose of which was solely for Chad’s amusement.
“Coming,” Xander answered dryly. He wasn’t sure if the microphone had picked up his reply, definitely as he started to place distance between the gates and the path. The path bent slight but went up a straight incline. Xander peered up at the trees, barely seeing the evening sky. As he reached the top of the path, he found himself questioning his own eyes. Perhaps he didn’t realize the steepness of the incline of the length of the path, as the mansion that greeted him was much larger than he first believed. The columns that held the pitched roof were wider than expected. Hidden underneath the sloping roof, another story climbed atop the first floor, windows barely peeking out. A garden, in such neglect that browned flowers were crowded by an overabundance of weeds, spanned the front of the mansion in its entirety. Xander almost felt as if he was stepping into a scene, conjured up by Stephen King.
“Servitude, Xander? I find myself disappointed in you,” Damian called out from amidst the trees.
“Not that I have a much of a choice.”
“You have a contract now. Surprising that SCW still pays well for a former draw,” Damian mocked him. He understood that many on the roster would have found utter jealousy and unreal resentment if they discovered the sinister amount the company paid him. While the contract was much less than pervious contracts, except for his rookie deal, even Xander must admit he didn’t deserve the number of figures he earned. Yet people embraced nostalgia, despite Xander not holding onto SCW gold for over 11 years, they still remembered the beast. They remembered the domination. They remembered the desolation he left in his wake. His peers might have conveniently forgotten, but the fans didn’t. They clung onto the memories. They remembered when he rendered them awestruck, but Xander wondered when the last time he fulfilled that role.
“You saw how useful Chad’s protection was. Without him, chances are I will be behind a cell, awaiting for my contract to be terminated. As long as I can help it, I don’t plan on ever being inside a cell,” Xander responded to Damian. Just as Damian appeared from the shadows of the large oaks, he disappeared. He started to understand that eyes might be playing tricks and his mind hearing voices that did not belong to anyone but his insanity.
He didn’t want to accept such a reality, so he didn’t.
Xander almost jumped when her turned to see a young woman. A black dress stretched tightly over the entirety of her gaunt frame, from ankles to neck. A veil concealed her face. Concentrating hard enough, youthful features of a teenaged face can be slightly distinguished. A gazed stare greeted hm. Even without the cloth mask, Xander felt her round dark eyes looked past him, never at him. Her breathing was heavy, almost as if she was in a trance. Her shoulders hung relaxed, too relaxed as if her arms bore no weight whatsoever. She tightened her face into a forced and awkward smile, nodding towards Xander but not him, while looing past him.
“We’ve been expecting you, sir. Right this way,” her voice seemed void of emotion. She turned around slowly before pulling open a heavy iron grate at the far side of the mansion. Behind the grate a small cracked stone way led to a side door of the main house. Xander figured this was the servant’s entrance. As if validating Xander’s deduction, they entered a large kitchen. Rows of steel counters, checkered with butcher blocks, showed their abandon, covered with a thick film of dust on all surfaces and perhaps rusty botches on the metal. Cobwebs crowded corners, even spread out across the walls. Only a single light shined in the room; darkness shrouded the rest. The woman didn’t hesitate. She proceeded at a languished yet consistent pace. Down some stone steps, with edges chipped from overuse, she led Xander deeper underground. Unlike the room above, the proceeding corridor at the bottom of the stairs was well lit and appeared to be regularly used. Lights ran across the bottom of the walls, such as seen in the movie theaters to guide patrons to their aisles before and after the show.
“Not much further. Everyone eagerly awaits your arrival,” his guide answered the unspoken answer. I highly doubt anyone is eager to see me. Something’s not right about this.
He grunted his acknowledgment and turned to floor. His combat boots thundered against the smooth concrete floor. No décor concealed the cylinder block walls, and his footsteps echoed off the walls. He failed to detect any filth, any dust. People have used this hallway plenty and recently. At the end of the hallway, steel double doors greeted the pair. He didn’t hear any sounds other than his footsteps. His guide paused at the door, she grasped the handle and pulled it open. A hand waved him in. Xander entered the room, and as soon as his large frame crossed the threshold, the door was closed behind him.
“What is this?” Xander wondered aloud. A curtain greeted him, thick and heavy. Bright lights awaited him on the other side. With a single pull of his hands, he swam through the curtain to be greeted by burning stage lights. He stood atop a wood stage. Pass the edge of the stage, darkness rested, consumed a space that he could not tell the depth. His sight couldn’t penetrate due to the stark contrast in the lights. He felt blinded. He felt vulnerable. Only by placing a hand on his brow, he was able to shield away enough light to discern a figure seated along a set of seats. Chad Evans.
A muffled cry reached his ears. Startled he turned towards an enormous bed to his side. Disbelief, that again he failed to detect another person in their presence, careful bright blue eyes surveyed the scene. Bright crimson sheets greeted him, from their reflective texture, he believed they must be silk. Black pillows lined the edges of the bed. In the middle of the bed, a woman laid, bound. A series of ropes chewed into the white dress and exposed flesh. The binding pulled her arms back, her hands brought up along her spine. From his view, she looked as if she was praying, yet behind her back. Blonde hair flowed back behind the woman’s head, some strands ran behind the folded hands, some in front. He saw a leather strap dividing the back of her head, he already knew some had placed a ball gag in her mouth.
“What the fuck?” Xander bellowed out, confused. He repeated himself, “What the fuck is this?”
Chad did not speak. Xander found that very uncharacteristic of him. Chad Evans loved the sound of his own voice. Xander curiously watched the woman struggle against her bindings. Something prevented her from standing and he stepped forward to investigate. He saw pale skinned thigh and ankles bonded together by more rope. She was stuck in that seated position. Her struggling against the bindings caused the rope to melt through her pale skin. Some blood had escaped, dripping lightly down her body. Excitement surged up from his loin. A part of him couldn’t help but be aroused by such a helpless soul, so ready to submit. Yet equally as strong was his anger. He wouldn’t make the rage as guilt. He remembered the days where he used to enjoy tying up women in similar positions, engaging in such sexual depravity. However, that was a sin he promised Calli long ago he would surrender. One of the few promises he managed to keep.
“I know you’re out there, Chad. An explanation right now would be appreciated. If I am to answer your request, I at least need to know the nature of the act you would have me commit,” Xander attempted to pull an answer from Chad. He circled around the bed, his finger running across in the slick silk. As he stepped into her field of vision, she jolted in surprise. Her eyes widened, startled if she never heard his voice. Tears flowed down either side of her youthful face. The gag suppressed her sobs. Underneath the woman’s disarrayed platinum hair, bright eyes burned at him, filled with nothing but malice and terror. By eyes that for a moment was the same color as Calli. Then they were not. Bright red lips hugged tightly the gag. She remained him of Calli. His heart ached at the sight.
“Who are you?” Xander instantly asked, then realized she was not going to deliver any answers. She shook her head ‘no’. Those eyes pleaded at him. He knew what she wanted: she wanted salvation, an escape from this cruel reality. She probably suspected an even crueler fate that awaited her in the near future. Me too. Me too. I want to get away too. But we can’t. We’re slaves to fate.
He almost wanted to deliver the woman’s silent prayers, but not because he felt any ounce of mercy towards the defenseless creature, but because that would have been an act of defiance towards her captor. She had been laid out before him, an offering of sorts. In the back of his muddled mind, he believed there was a connection between this event and Calli’s death. Perhaps that was imagination, trying to make a connection that was not there. Paranoia.
His large hand reached out and snatched her jaw. Xander’s gaze pierced into hers as he attempted to make a decision on his next course of action. She tried to pull away from his touch, futilely so as his grip bore too much strength. I’m not hero. I’m a monster. Poor little bird, you are bounded and gagged. I know you would scream so loud if you could. You are desperate for someone to come to your rescue. Once upon a time, those screams would be sweet music to these ears. I no longer hate myself as I did back then, and no longer find solace in the torture of the helpless. But he is tempting me. You’re designed to tempt me, trying to lure me back to world I thought I have put behind me. For what reason? I don’t know. I will never understand those who play with fire. But who are you? What is your story? Why have you met such a fate? I wonder, is this what Chad Evan does to his playthings when he’s grown tired and bored? When they outlive their purpose?
“I’m sorry for your loss, Xander. When I heard the news, I thought to myself, how can we possibly turn that frown upside down?” Chad mocked. Xander expected more spite in Chad’s voice, but there didn’t seem to be as much as emotion as he detected while on the phone. Xander turned towards Chad, still bathed in shadow. A quick shove pushed back the captive woman. Chad resumed speaking, his voice burst out over loudspeakers, positioned all around the pair, from every direction. “What? Is not to your liking? I picked her out especially for you. You always had a thing for petite blondes, with bright hair that seemed more silver than gold, and bright red lipstick encasing their delicate lips. Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. You like the lipstick smeared after a few backhands. My apologies. Next time, I’ll do the honor myself.”
“What the fuck is this?” Xander repeated himself now that Chad decided that he wanted to speak. A short fit of laughter echoed out in all directions. The influx of noise disorientated Xander. He felt anger pull on him. He looked back and saw Calli there restrained instead of the girl before. He blinked. The girl returned. He blinked. Calli kneel before him, sorrowfully start at him, afraid and scared. He blinked. The poor girl from before greeted him, with the same quivering look. His mind. He could not trust his mind. This whole situation sparked a rage he hadn’t felt for years. Grabbing a hold of the end table positioned beside the bed, he swung the furniture and released the heavy object at the shadowed man. With a loud thud, the end table crashed down before the stage. A crack in what Xander suspected to be bulletproof glass formed where the table hit the wall. “Fuck you. Fuck this. I’m not going to play these games, Chad. I’m not going to play this one particularly. Not now. Not ever. I’ll kill you before I go ahead with this. I’ll do anything other than this.”
“Come on, Xander. Would you really kill me? I’m sure you would have done so always if you believed you could get away with my murder,” Chad argued, his voice didn’t show any signs of alarm in regards to Xander’s defiance and threats. That fact didn’t surprise Xander either. Chad Evans believed he was completely safe behind that wall. Chad continued: “But I will answer your question, Xander, if you would show a little bit of patience. I intended to offer an explanation all along.”
“Fuck you.”
“All right. I only assumed your twisted mind would have already arrived at a conclusion. But if I must, I will. The woman there is Cali’s replacement. Abuse her with all your might. I want to see how you used to treat your ex-wife, how you used to ravage her body. Now that she’s six feet under ground, long cold, you could use a new fucktoy, am I right? Don’t tell me you don’t find yourself not a itsy bit aroused by having such a pretty thing at your disposal,” Chad Evans shouted, evidently enthralled by the stage he had set for Xander. Xander didn’t want to turn back towards the bounded woman. He feared Calli’s face. His rage still roared, stiffening his thinking. He tasted blond in his mouth, where he evidently bit down on his bottom lip too hard. His thoughts vibrated underneath the ferocity of his anger. He smelled smoke. No… No… No! Stop this! Stop this! I can’t! Not again!
He snapped. All his wrath purged from his body as a loud yell. He threw his entire weight against the glass wall that separated the two men. He repeated drove his fist at the point of the crack, first formed by the side table. He punched. He punched. He punched until a thick coat of blood hide his knuckles. Sharp pain shot up his arm. With each punch, scalding hot flash of lighting radiated up his arm. His right hand was broken. How about the left? He could still use his left.
“Go on. Rape her, Xander. Take out all that anger. Expel out all that hostility. Cast out all your resentment. Drown yourself, so deep, you cannot feel that insecurity that constantly dogs you. Turn the blade away form yourself, and towards that innocent soul behind you. Let the weak bear what they must, isn’t that what you always like to say?” Chad stepped up to the glass, a smile microphone held in his hand. Xander saw the twisted smile that greeted him through the cracked and damaged glass. Another punch with all his might, blew out a small shard of glass. The shard shot across Chad’s cheek, leaving him with a swallow cut. Chad touched his face and licked the blood. He seemed unfazed; however, he turned to threats: “I have transcripts, interviews, Xander. If you won’t play for your own satisfaction, you will do so for mine. You would never be able to come back if I release those tapes, those documents. You would be ruined. No one would ever employ you again. If they only knew, what sick and grotesque acts you used to commit when the cameras weren’t rolling and you had some free time.”
“I’ll kill you!” Xander slammed another fist into the wall. This time he felt his left fist crack underneath the weight. He stared down at both sets of knuckles, blood layered thickly across the back of his hands. He stopped. His breathing ragged. The pain of the beaks had since been numbed. He could continue but Chad’s words started to settle into his mind, breaking his anger. Fear slipped into the vacuum that formed in Xander’s soul. Fear. Chad’s threats registered with his mind. He imagined not being able to step into the ring again. He imagined being homeless out on the street. The imagination caused dread to swell up and seize him. He turned towards the bounded woman, who since rolled off the bed.
“Xander. Calli awaits you. Why don’t you greet your love with a kiss?” Chad’s voice echoed.
Xander surrendered a cry before stepping forward. He placed both hands onto the edge of the stage. He lifted himself up, refusing to betray the pain he felt in his hands. He fought wars within the ring with broken fists. He can handle this. He approached the woman on the floor. She had no clue of his approach. She inched slowly towards the exit. She reminded him of a worm. When he was almost standing over her, she noticed his shadow. She glanced back, terrified at the bloodied monster staring down upon her with cold eyes and ill intent. She placed even more effort into her frenzied yet futile attempt at escape. Xander knelt besides her. He petted her gently at first as she lowered his head next to hers.
“God no longer smiles upon the both of us. He has abandoned us,” Xander whispered in her ear. She released a shriek. The panic that coursed through her veins jerked her breathing into hyperventilation. The squeaky sounds were so cringy to the ears even Xander shuddered at her grasps. He pulled back her blonde hair, and Calli’s face greeted him. He hesitated. I can’t go down any further down this road, can I? Calli’s dead but here she is before me. If I repeat the same sins, won’t she die again? She will die again and that guilt will reappear and I will be crushed. Fuck. “God’s light is nowhere to be found for us. We’re in the shadow. Never to know warmth again.”
Xander dropped her head. He turned towards Chad. Despite the weight of the fear that bore down his entire consciousness, he feared that pending guilt more. “Fuck my career. Fuck wrestling. Fuck you. I’ll die. I have no honor. I feel no shame. Do your best, Chad. And-“
“Xander, if you think those court documents are the only thing I have on you. You’re a fool. I have enough on you to put you in a cage. People will come around to view you like some zoo animal,” laughter erupted as Xander’s face turned pale. Chad continued: “And if you really wanted to become a thorn in my side, I know the right people to make sure you disappear forever. You’re powerless against me. Without realizing, I infiltrated your world and have seized everything. You’re my puppet now, Xander. I pull the strings. You dance.”
Xander choked on a response. Anger didn’t form as he expected. Fear remained, intensified by Chad’s additional threats. He believed every word Chad spoke. He didn’t want to. He hoped Chad’s threats were nothing but bluffs, but he couldn’t take the risk. He had seen had far Chad’s influence touched. He could believe that Chad had in his possession court sealed documents which were never supposed to see the light of day and only a handful knew about. He remembered the intervention at the police station just a few days prior. Xander believed Chad’s reach had no limits. The collar pulled tighter around his neck. The leash yanked him towards the girl.
Chad mocked Xander: “So listen, Xander. God is here before you. And I am smiling upon you. Now go forth, listen to my commandants. As long as you serve like good dog, I’ll grant you the providence you eagerly seek.”
Xander released another cry, his soul shook violently with pain. His entire chest felt pressed upon by such great gravity that he feared being crushed. His eyes shot back at the shaking girl on the floor. She had fallen onto her side. Amidst the crowd of thoughts in his head, one voice spoke louder and repeated itself: I have no choice. There aren’t any options. It’s me or you.
“That’s what I thought.”
Xander approached the woman. His damaged hands reached down and gripped the bindings on the legs and the back of her neck. He tossed the woman onto the bed. He slid a knife out from his combat boot. The woman froze at the sight of the blade. Her eyes tracked the edge. She choked one last cry before Xander cut loose bottom half of the bindings. He threw aside the ropes. He pushed her onto her back as she attempted to sit down. His eyes locked her stare. He didn’t know why, but he searched for comfort in her eyes, but found none as one would expect from someone grappling with pure terror.
“Take her, Xander. Use her like you did Calli. Show me what a monster truly looks like.”
With the knife still in hand, Xander started to tear a rip up the middle of the white dress that adorned the petite body before him. In some places, the tip of the knife broke the pale skin. He stopped once he reached the binding that still rendered her arms and hands useless. He tore apart the white panties that remained. He placed his palms on both thighs. Despite resistance, he managed to pry them open. Before Xander released, he had plunged into her flesh. A few muffled shrieks escaped the woman initially, but afterwards, she tossed herself back and went limp. She accepted this fate and struggled no further. He knew she escaped to some place deep within her mind. That’s right. Fly away within your own head. This isn’t happening to you. This is happening to someone else. Maybe you’ll survive this yet. Maybe.
Xander struggled himself. Ten years prior, his erection would be bulging with enough blood to make it feel as if his manhood would burst. Now just like his soul, Xander found his erection conflicted, enough life to penetrate but flaccid enough to make the thrusts hard and difficult. Chad’s shout didn’t register anymore. Xander closed his minds. He rocked himself now. He too allowed his mind to slip. He opened his eyes again, and there laid before him Calli. Her green eyes looked up towards his. She wore the same mischievous smile as when they first bonded by flesh. Xander picked up his speed. He cradled Calli in his arms. By gripping the sides, started to slip Calli across him as he sat back. A wave of pleasure radiated throughout his body. His mind became numbed. Everything felt completed. He wanted to confess his love, profess his guilt, everything foolishly seemed right. As he continued the pace, feeling that he was at last about to reach his limits, he tossed Calli back onto her back and released. Instantly, dread crept up. You’re dead.
“You’re not Calli,” Xander reminded himself as he collapsed his entire weight onto the poor creature below him. He rolled off at the hollow tusk of a person that remained. She stared out into distance. He cringed and shuddered. The feeling of loss renewed, even stronger now, as he again had to accept the reality that Calli was dead and never was to return to him.
Chad voice returned, slightly disappointed: “I never knew you were so sweet a lover. I expected something more barbaric.”
“No more,” Xander whispered and he doubted Chad heard his protest. Xander remained on his back as he himself fixated his gaze. Blood had started to dry over his shredded skin. He didn’t want to see the damage he did to the poor girl. How many more lives must I destroy? How much more innocence must be sacrificed? Will it ever end? And Calli, oh Calli, why can’t I let you go…
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Blood feuds are an interesting. You see clans and families wage all-out, salt the earth kind of wars against one another. What do you say? I say genocides are tantalizing interesting chapters in human history to learn about. My favorite part of history class. The behavior is not only exhibited by men, but by apes and ants. Only us humans are crude enough to romanticize this blood letting, this primal carnage electrifies our nerve endings just as much as a masterpiece painting. And just when you thought that a bitter rivalry was laid to rest, that all the wars were buried in the past as if a hatchet, any small spark could reignite the fighting. Any small flame could engulf everything in flames again.
Here we go again. Josh Hudson. Xander Valentine.
Josh Hudson and I, everyone knows that we have fought battles in the ring. We engaged in war, spaced across years of SCW history. There always seem to be this odd connection between us, a certain gravity that pulls us down towards each other and once we’re within striking distance, we swing punch after punch, delivering blow after blow. We’ve shed each other’s blood. We’ve broken each other bones. We know the stench of the other. We have tasted each other’s sweat. We’re threatened each others’ livelihoods with zero remorse. We’re jeopardized each other’s futures with reckless abandon. And there is no regret in our sins. No, there’s a sense of pride that we both have taken in our transgressions. Instead of guilt, we take pleasure in the suffering we inflict on one another. We do not care for the other’s sake. We do not care to afford the other any shred of dignity. It’s all out war.
We give no quarter.
We always aim to kill.
But let’s be honest, here. I’ve won the wars. Josh managed to win a battle here and there. But what do you expect? He’s no bitch. He’s a warrior. And Josh occasionally finds his arm raised, but that’s it, and it’s a rare occasion. I’ve proven, time in and time out that Josh, despite being a tenacious son of a bitch, is subordinate to my will and a submissive to my brute strength. His fists can bruise me. His slams might abuse me. Chair shots might crack my skull. But at the end of the day, we both know who’s the king and who’s the pretender. And there hasn’t ever been a moment that has been put to doubt.
For all of Josh’s career, he has been desperately chasing after me. He’s been obsessed with me. It’s been a one-sided affair, and let’s be honest, his obsession can appear to be a creepy as that of a depraved ex stalking his former love. He seeks to breathe my oxygen.
For all his career, Josh Hudson wanted to be me.
At first, this obsession seemed more like a young boy’s fascination with his idol. He tried to emulate me. He tried so hard to move the way I move. Eventually, when Josh Hudson knew he could never be as dominant, as feared, as respected and as accomplished as Xander Valentine, that fascination soured into rancid envy. Gut-wrenching bitterness started to flow through Josh’s vein. Such bitterness has consumed Josh Hudson. That poison has been in his head for years, just gnawing away at his consciousness, eating away at his santiy. No matter what, he has trained his mind to make constant comparisons between us. I cannot deny that hasn’t earn accolades in this company and attained glory in this sport. But every grandiose feat he has achieved, he has stained and spoiled by placing that trophy next to mine, trying to engage, whether mentally or vocally, in a glorified dick measuring contest, one which we all know has long been decided. Nevertheless, the fool keeps looking over at me and comparing himself to the girth I possess.
Josh, you’re never going to be a big as me.
While rare and few between, Josh’s victories over me is something you always hear about, even ten plus years after the fact. For all his career, the feather in his cap that he’s the proudest of, was the fact he ended my undefeated streak. Yes, Josh, one that rainy day in November, you caught me with my pants down and he did what you had to in order to walk away with the victory. I applaud you. On that day, you earned a bit of my respect. But let’s contrast, Josh. How often do I remind people of my many victories over you? How often do I boast about defeating Josh Hudson when Josh Hudson has nothing to do with my opponents or my current situation? I think you’ll see that I have never bother to remind people that I’m your superior. Its a given. It’s well-established. I don’t need to remind people. They already know.
I can continue on about my domination over you. I could touch on the fact that I defeated both you and CHBK in the same night, in separate matches. I defeated two fellow hall of famers in a single night. I could boast about that. But yeah, some people remember, and those who don’t, they don’t care. They don’t care because I’ve performed bigger and more awe-inspiring feats. My many victories over you are footnotes, not milestones. Your biggest milestone, according to you? IS not the fact that you’ve held the SCW World Championship belt, not the fact there are other names out there that you have destroyed, some of those names were wrestling legends, no… you ended my undefeated steak. I underestimated you. You showed up that day. And you won the battle that day. But to place that as your highest accolades? I think you’re a fucking fool.
A fool too obsessed with my shadow that you have never seen the light. I think, as our careers are starting to wind down, you are starting to realize how misguided and blind you have been. Your entire career has been some fool’s errand. Instead of forging your own trail, carving your own place in history, you’ve spent so many years trying to chase a ghost, trying to erase the world of my shadow. And you hate me more than ever, because this unhealthy obsession of yours, has held you back from attaining the greatness, from you fulfilling your upmost potential. And maybe just maybe, if you aimed pass me, you would have risen above me.
But it’s too late now, isn’t it? It’s too fucking late. And you know it and that is why you tossed yourself in my path again. But there’s a silvering lining, isn’t there?
Finally, here’s your chance, to remove me. Here’s your chance to exorcise the demon, that obsession has possessed you. You have noticed that my career is on death’s door. More than ever, I’m vulnerable. I’m hanging off the edge of the cliff, losing my grip as I try to pull my weight back over. Drachewych is trying to stifle my career. The death of my ex-wife has no doubt hurt me. Unworthy foes have knocked me over. And here I am, on the edge, so close to falling into the abyss and meeting my demise. How can you not be tempted?
How can you not be?
Finally, the opportunity you have been waiting for your entire career has emerged. And of course, to your credit, you have rushed in. You’re going for the throat of the injured animal. You don’t care that you’re some sort of scavenger. You don’t care that you’re a hyena. All you care about is destroying me, ending me.
But we all know the saying; the old cliché, a cornered animal is always the most dangerous. And right now, I’m fighting for my survival, for my career. For the first time, in a long time, I feel like I have something to prove. You see when Drachewych fired me, he made me realize how far I have fallen. When he’s sending me cupcakes, I realize how much of a comedy my career has become. And I’m not going to let that continue. I don’t care who he places in front of me, I’m going to devour them whole. I don’t care if it’s some no name asshole from the streets. I don’t care if it’s the SCW World Champion. I definitely don’t care if it’s Josh fucking Hudson. Whoever it is, I’m going to demolish. I haven no choice. I must survive.
Now, I see your hunger. But my hunger has always been greater. I see your killer instincts, but mine has always been deadlier. You’re going in for the kill, but if Sunday is the day I’m going to die, I’m bringing you to hell with me. Apocalypse is either going to be a new beginning for me or the end; but I know one thing for certain, Josh Hudson is coming to an end.
Fade to black.
Executioner's Plight 