Xander’s heart drummed its fast-paced beat, blasting his ears. With his hearing shot, he stared at his surrounding. The entire vibration, he could feel the blood thrusted through his veins with each heartbeat. He wanted to cradle himself, curl up in a ball and die. The intensity of his body’s response to whatever panic or terror that had overtaken him was too much.
He then turned and realized the source of this horror. A large crater concaved down in the ground which laid directly ahead of Xander. His combat boots, a staple of his wrestling attire, kicked a clump of moist dirt into the pit below. Bodies, many bodies, they are bore faces of individuals whose lives were destroyed as a result of being associated with Xander. Kelly Lynn, his first lover, with her high cheek bones and her bright eyes returning Xander’s terrified gaze with a blank stare. Brian Valentine, his younger brother with his butt chin, gaped at the air. He seemed caught in time, frozen. Xander turned away. His little brother died of an overdose while they toured the independents, no more than a year after they were reunited.
Most stark and defined was Calli’s soft face, the image which drove the most strength behind the torque. The same emotional torque twisted his soul in a knot. Calli had been many things. For the first time, Xander experienced true love, the kind that made fools out of men. She connected and provided bandages to so many of his insecurities. Without her, he wondered if he would ever experience the same success in his wrestling career. She was the fill that leveled out so many of the potholes marring character. But as time passed, he knew exactly that the injection of positivity and goodness was not a permanent solution. A band-aid does not stop the bleeding of a wound deep enough to require stitches, if remedy call for not amputation. As a result, he bled his toxic blood all over her pure white dress and stained her forever. He infected her with his disease, until the well of purity and kindness, the attributes which everyone defined her as a person, dried up. And even then, she did not flee him for her sake. Of course not, she escaped him for their son’s sake instead. Took so many days of reflection, choking down sharp shame, led to the realization Conner was the driving force behind the divorce.
Xander stood there, at her pale lifeless face. The once memorizing emerald eyes had glossed over into eerie jade. Her thin pink lips, often constructed the most heartwarming smiles, now curled into a grimace. He recognized that he once promised to be there for her, to protect, he made those vows! But instead, he broke her. The most beautiful and perfect woman in the world had been transformed into a dead fish, with lifeless eyes that bore into his soul. Oh, the guilt! He had to look away, he sobbed, gagging on cries he never though he capable of.
And then he turned, fell off his bed. Cold, slimy sweat filled his pores. His elbows absorbed most of the shock, became sore as a result. The door bell buzzed. Xander shook his head, trying to escape the daze of sleepiness. Nights were either torn apart or kept hollow by these bad dreams. Nightmares galloped on his strength. He felt like the walking dead during the daylight hours. A glance tossed at the beside alarm clock. Off. Scarlet digits screamed ‘13:13’. Fuck, the interview! Xander pushed his hands off the hardwood floor to climb to his feet. He scooped up the white wife beater, discarded on the floor the night prior. A pair of gym shorts yanked from the top drawer of the dresser was his only option to cover up his boxer briefs. He had originally wanted to dress formally, suit and tie, and address the candidate from a position of power. Instead, he had to settled to wear clothes, enough so to cover himself to ensure that he didn’t find himself at the receiving of a complaint regarding indecent exposure.
Crossing, in long strides, he crossed the living area. The woman’s bedroom door remained closed. That bedroom was definitely one part of the residence he was certain to keep from the visitor. Upon opening the door, a young slender face greeted him. Lips puckered up forming a rosebud waited in anticipation. As usual, surprised almond eyes climbed the entire height of Xander’s build. Being almost seven feet tall made him into a giant compared to most, but especially so with this a young girl who barely passed five. Shaking herself, almost too eagerly, from her shock, she first extended her hand as a shake. Good first step, a firm hand shake… he squeezed her hand slightly harder than her grasp.
“Mr. Valentine? I’m Abigail, but everyone calls me Abby,” she adjusted her volume throughout the introduction. She lowered than raised her shoulders, bringing a certain perk. Almost as if to motion herself into the house and into his life. God, she’s one of those people. Polar opposite of what I am. Probably came from a good home. Had good life up to this point. Can’t help but feel a certain sense of jealousy. Xander forced those useless thoughts from his head. He didn’t know her story. He didn’t care to. She was to be used.
“Of course, Abigail,” he emphasized a certain coolness in that emphasis of her name, a manner designed to establish distance between the parties. “Come right in. Pardon the mess, I’m still in the process of moving in.”
“Oh! That’s completely okay. I guess after a big move, nothing’s settled in. It takes time to be REALLY settled in,” she replied, too optimistically. Xander pulled back to give her space. Once inside, he gently closed the front door behind her and then led the young woman to a circular table on the far side of the room. Only days prior, the furniture was delivered. He had to lock the bedroom and arrange so any furniture intended for his ward was placed said for placement. The movers seemed puzzled but didn’t mind having to carry boxes or heavy crates. He navigated her through that maze of boxes and plastic wrapped furniture. He had only arrived the night before and had yet to dissect the packing and assessed his newfound belongings. He pulled away such plastic from the dining room set to reveal mahogany underneath. Abby snatched the chair on the farthest side, she smiled as she caught the view of the garden from the bay window. She commented, “What a lovely garden! My mother owns a flower shop.”
Ignoring the girls comment, Xander leaned on the edge of the circle table. “Do you want the job or not? I know the salary’s not so great, but right now I’m working through a situation that money’s not coming completely steady. You’ll get paid. I promise that much.”
“Oh! Yeah! So will I be staying here? Doesn’t seem that large of place,” Abby surveyed the condominium. On the small hallway adjacent to the living area, there were only three doors. Two which lead to bedrooms and one that led to the bathroom. He also never enjoyed large homes, preferring cozy over expansive. His house with Calli had bordered that of a mansion; after she left, the emptiness of the space haunted him. Also, he ultimately decided on this place for it’s proximity to the ocean and beach. He found himself convinced the right atmosphere could save the woman’s mind. He didn’t know why he held that belief. He had no evidence or teaching that promoted such an understanding. The belief was all but intuition, once properly considered. I’m a fool trying to play doctor.
“No.”
“You own other properties?”
“Not yet. I’m looking at other places at this point of time. For my son. Unexpected circumstances arrived him at my door step. I know this isn’t much of an interview, but I’m looking for someone to look after him. I’m a busy man, and I’m often out of town,” Xander explained, but held back on going further. But he thought, to the contrary, that real reason he decided to invest in a nanny for Connor. Someone other than him had to parent the child. Grim thoughts crossed his mind on a conveyer belt. Hello Abby, I’m a fucking psychopath. I hallucinate. I see people who are not there. I punish anyone who I might happen to feel love towards. I need someone… sane… someone kind to raise the fucking kid. Make sure he doesn’t turn into a monster like me.
“Oh? Did something happen to the… wife? Mother? Are you married, Mr. Valentine?” Abby probed, but despite the prodding, her voice still beamed with that wholehearted innocence. Calli used to sound like her. Calli had that energy. She might be good for Conner.
“His mother passed. We were divorced. As a result, I find myself in custody of the child,” Xander paused. He proceeded to tell what he considered probably was lie, but he wasn’t sure when the words finally formed on his chapped lips: “I didn’t want him to end up being taken care of by strangers. They said if I don’t step forward, he would be placed in foster care. That’s not right.”
“Of course. A child needs to be with his parent!” Abby nodded, humming to express her zealous agreement. But you’re a stranger too, are you not? Xander shook his head, but as if Abby could read his thoughts, she continued: “Typically, the process is for me to make it so I’m not a stranger when I leave the interview. This would be my third stint. So, since I would be a constant presence in your son’s life, is there anything you want to know about me? I want to be sure that you feel safe and comfortable with me as a person while I tend to your child’s upbringing. I’m an open book. Ask me anything! Don’t be shy!”
Anything? Have you ever raped someone before? Have you ever laid hands on a loved one? What’s your deepest and darkest fantasy? Xander joked to himself but found guilt as an answer to those mocking questions. He was being difficult. Instead, he responded, much more suiting for his needs: “I merely want the peace of mind that someone responsible to looking after him. I don’t have anything set in his upbringing. You have free reign as long as he turns out fine in the end, I don’t care.”
“I’m sure you do have some idea. I don’t want to override you, Mr. Valentine. If you take me on, I want to promote your core values and your vision for the boy’s upbringing. I don’t know if I can fully satisfy your every wish but I promise I will try my darnedest,” Abby answered, at the very end she feigned determination by scrunching up her face. Her brown eyes bring curled forward as she made that cute face. For a moment, even Xander felt admiration. Not many stood before him and acted in such a way. Often people corrected themselves in his presence, stiffened until it seemed all their muscles were taut and lied through false smiles, trying to push through their interaction through the end. Abby instead seemed to be innocent, almost to the level of naivety. She seemed better suited as a kindergarten teacher than anything else with that pure smile and complete flowery openness.
Nevertheless, Xander responded, trying to ensure his tone ensured an air of frigidness, distance, “I said I don’t care. I simply need to know the boy’s needs are met. Nothing more or nothing less. Do whatever you want. Trust me, I don’t have a clue about being a father and I don’t intend to pretend I do.”
“Oh come on now. You act as if you’re not fit to be a father,” Abby rejected, playfully punching his arm.
Xander raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, Abby reacted through more awkward than anything else. She slowly removed the fist and placed it on her hip, as if holstering a gun. Xander delivered a short answer: “I’m not fit.”
Trying to pave over and segue to a different topic, the ever-cheerful Abby rebounded: “I will very much like to meet the boy. Is he here?”
“No. Not yet. He’s still back East. He’s staying with some family friends. Once everything’s ready, I send for him.”
“Oh. Well, could you at least tell me about him? I’m very interested,” positivity continued its steady flow through her puckered lips. Xander didn’t know whether she was actually sincere, Calli was once, or if she’s an incredible actress, nailing her tryout by portraying the desired character perfectly. Wasted effort if the latter was true, he already decided on her before she arrived for the interview. He didn’t set high standards and wanted the process of hiring a nanny to be done.
“To be honest. I have no clue what type of person he is. I haven’t been much involved in his life.”
“Oh. I see,” finally a grimace emerged on Abby’s face. But the frown didn’t seem to last long as she suddenly brightened up again, moving forward, “Well, I’m sure he’s a good boy. If you truly are okay with me, I will be glad to serve as his caretaker. Trust me, I’ll take care of him. I’ll do my best that he becomes a real gentleman, an outstanding member of society, all that wonderful jazz that you want out of a child.” I want nothing from him. Don’t you see. I don’t care.
“That’s all I ask. So you accept the offer then?” Xander sought confirmation.
“Of course. When do I start?”
“That’s the matter of how soon I get a place for you and the boy. I will not be staying there often. You do understand that I’m a man that needs his space and that you’re simply the means to deliver that end,” Xander once again pressed. He didn’t know why, but he thought he needed to ensure that this woman understood her role.
“Of course! But wowzers, I didn’t expect you so willing to accept me so easily. A lot of parents are so brutal in interviews, This interview was sure short. So easy! Don’t tell me you found me cute. Because if that’s the case, I don’t want the job. I only want this position if you think I’m qualified!” Abby swung her elbow as if she was ribbing. She winked at Xander. For some reason, the young woman captivated him. Such innocence. I’m tempted. I’m almost too tempted to go back down that road. Xander found himself frowning. He found her to be attractive, just as he once found his ex-wife. However, the shame that hung tightly, threatening to serve more as a noose than a leash, holding him back from any pursuit. He only needed her to be Conner’s caretaker, a surrogate mother for the boy. And if she was an honest person and was truly the same person she presented as the one hidden within, her optimism and nativity might enable Xander. He needed someone blind. Someone who trusted him. Who didn’t probe deeper and she only touched the surface up to this point.
“All right then. I’ll call you when this is settled,” Xander stood promptly. With an even bigger grin, she shook Xander’s hand.
“It’s an honor! I can’t wait!” And with that, Xander escorted her back towards the door. She giggled awkwardly the entire time, trying to cut in with some more conversation, but Xander hummed out the attempts. She still beamed towards him as the door closed in her face. She’s almost too positive. I wonder if she’s for real. I don’t care enough. As long as Conner doesn’t end up dead in her care, I don’t care… or did he? Heartstrings pulled at him. Odd feelings stirred in his head.
As he turned now towards the vacated living space, he heard a voice, “Are you really fine? You don’t know who she is? She’s a complete stranger. You’re ready for a stranger to take care of our child?”
Sitting cross-legged on the bench built into the front of the bay window, Calli held a cup of tea to her lips as she waited for Xander’s response. Xander closed his eyes. She’s not there. She’s dead. You watched them bury her. He opened his eyes, and she wasn’t there. Was that Calli he imagined? He turned towards the kitchen but there she was again. Her small hands planted on his thin waistline as she looked up with her, chin pointed high. Her eyes berated him.
She continued: “You plan to dump our boy in her care. A boy needs a father. God forbid how difficult he had been without you.”
“Then why did you keep me away?” Xander caught himself responding. Embarrassed that he answered a hallucination, he pushed past her to head towards the refrigeration. He knew the answer. He snatched a bottle of water and turned. He downed the water as if to drown this hullication but Calli remained standing in front of him.
“You know the reason. But that’s no excuse. You have a choice now. Are you ready to be a man? Are you ready to step up and be the father you never had but always wanted,” Calli stepped up. The top of her head barely reached his chest. Her eyes ate him up. “More than ever, you’re needed. More than ever. Has it ever dawned on you, when you became a parent, your child is important than your needs? I’m no longer there for him. The task has fallen on you. Whether you think you’re suited or not, that’s your problem… not his.”
Xander tilted his head back. He closed his eyes tightly He loathed hearing those words. He wanted to yell back, cast her ghost away with a scream. As he lowered his head, he blinked. She had vanished. His mind was getting worst. The gnawing stress, the lack of sleep, and the guilt. They were all getting to him. His sanity already held cracks. He knew he should really take his meds, but he moved away from the kitchen without drawing from the vial of pills stashed in one of the top cabinets.
———————————————————–
Being replaced is a bitter pill to swallow. I always see that resentment, so obvious on the faces of the factory workers as they line up outside the plant, protesting the fact their company replaced them with mechanical machines. They refuse to accept that they’re useless. They refuse to accept they’re obsolete. They believe they are entitled! To a job! To a purpose!
People are entitled to shit. I hate to be the bearer of bad news. The only thing ever afforded to us, the moment that we are born, is the promise of death.
Max Kane stands before me. He has openly challenged me. He has been replaced. The Network found the upgrade it desperately wanted. They discarded him, tossed him aside. He became obsolete. He became unneeded. Most of all, they saw him as liability and needed to ensure that he’s properly disposed. And I understand Dante’s wish. He might shy away from being the leader of the group, in essence, no one can escape the responsiblity of their station. As leader, he needs to present to the rest of the Network, an example of what happens when you become a liability, when you become more risk than reward.
You get replaced.
You get punished.
You’re ostracized, exiled… if not out right executed.
But I don’t care about that. As I said, my entry into the Network was only done for survival. I don’t care about Dante’s philosophies. I don’t care about the perks outside being able to continue my work in SCW. I don’t care about the needs of the groups. I do care that I can provide them with enough utility, they continue to allow me to stay in SCW, to allow me to continue my struggle in SCW. They are a means to an end. I am the means to an end. Such a beautiful symmetry to our relationship. One day, they will no doubt want to do to me as they did to Max Kane. I’m quite aware.
Unlike Kane, there’s isn’t a Xander Valentine to serve as my executioner. Fortunate for me, there’s only one of me.
But there’s a difference between us. Many looking on right now might not see the difference. Right now, they see a brazen Max Kane trying to stick it to the Network. They cheer on a fool that decided to challenge me directly. A man who robbed meme of a win. A man that has tossed himself blindly into the fray and became part of my struggle. But he’s not as big as Drachewych. I can chip him away, peel him off that darkness standing in my path. Once again, Max will be discarded. If it is revenge he seeks, he will not find satisfaction. The path that he chosen only assures the continuation of his own struggle. His plight now has become increasingly dangerous. His hardship ever so painful.
Right now, Max Kane might not have realized the consequences of his action. But he will in a short time. After Under Attack, he will realize that he should have just stayed down. He will realize that he should have accepted that assault and moved on. A clean break afforded him the brightest future. A clean break would have ensured a lengthy career. Moving on with his career, forgetting about the Network and their breakup would have benefited him greatly. He had the potential to be something in his sport. He has the skill set to establish himself and climb the ranks. But he cannot let go. He wants vengeance. The resentment and contempt he felt towards his departure consumed him. But he doesn’t understand that the few minutes of desolation I brought down onto him pales in comparison to the trials and tribulations that awaits him in the ring at Under Attack.
But this is a byproduct of his recklessness, his lack of care for his own wellbeing. He’s a fool. He wouldn’t have been in this position for the first place he understood that there are consequences for every action. But once again, he acted according to impulse, instead of calculation. Max Kane spends his life, digging his own grave. Above him in the six-foot hole, mound of debt is waiting bury him underneath. It’s time to pay the debt he has incurred. Time to suffocate underneath that pile of earth.
The Network wants this done with. They want this ordeal buried. They entrusted me with this responsibility. I do want to return the favor they have done for me. Pay for their service. But there is much more at work here. A week ago, this simply would have been a chore. Now, after Breakdown, this is more. Cliché as it might be, this became personal.
Not only Max Kane is marked by the Network, he’s now a target of my anger. He’s in the crosshairs of my frustration. Months of frustration. I came back to this company to reclaim my throne, and pissants like him keeps interfering. They think there’s honor in being a speedbump. They think there’s opportunity in being a part of my struggle. No. They only signed their name on the list. A list that ensures their destruction long before my own. Not only did Max Kane cost me a win, a win that would have justified the months of this suffering and months of patience and resilience, but a win that would have provided me with a path forward… he also challenged me. He also made the fool errand’s of questioning my grit. And now he’s my target.
Now he provided a face to all that hardship, all that bullshit that have defied me these months. While I’m going to see to it that the Network’s wishes are met, I’m going to be taking joy in venting my frustration out. And it’s a tragedy for all those wrestling fans to watch unfold before their very eyes. They’re going to see me snuff out a potential star in Max Kane. Instead of spreading his wings, now free from the constraints of the Network, and soaring to new heights, everyone’s going to bear witness, watching with dread, as I tear those wings from his body.
Max, there’s consequences to every action. Resentment’s useless baggage. But that resentment toward your replacement, that’s going to be the death of you. You don’t step up willingly on the gallows and expect to survive the axe.
You step forwarded to be slaughtered, Max, without realizing. Now, you will be slaughtered.
Executioner's Plight 