Xander laid out on the floor. He instantly crumpled onto the large circular rug. His arms kept spread out. His entire body felt like a car wreck, yet he remained there with a smile on his face. The adrenaline rush during that match had been was intoxicating. How he longed for that feeling again! His body failed him, but his heart did not. He loved brutality. Selena delivered a huge helping as part of a feast. A part of him did lament the defeat but the three matches against Selena reminded him exactly why he loved to wrestle.
Hunter did not appear pleased whatsoever. Arms crossed, she lorded over him. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders.
“You’re not a monster, Hunter. You wouldn’t understand,” Xander answered her, straining his bright eyes to look up at her disapproving scowl.
“You’re right. I don’t understand.”
“You seem like you want an explanation.”
“Not really,” Hunter answered. Good, Xander didn’t really want to talk. Bruised ribs meant talking became a laborious chore. He coughed at the thought of speaking at length. “I’ve watched you these months, battle that woman, and she makes you seem weak. You’re supposed to be strong.”
“Does she now?”
“She defeated you.”
“She did.”
“Then why are you so content to accept this loss,” Hunter’s response cut through the ecstasy Xander savored or whatever was left of said ecstasy. She did want an explanation after all. Xander rolled to one side, fought to a knee and then stood up straight. His muscles were still weak from the war the day prior. In the dimly lit room, the bruises were still noticeable. Hunter reached out. Xander didn’t wince, instead, he simply allowed for a sharp breath as the shot of pain ran up his shoulder to his head. “You promised to show me how to be strong.”
“I’m standing, am I not? With my head hung high?”
“Some might mistake that with hubris. Not strength. Another might claim that’s delusional.”
“You’re disappointed in me. I see that,” Xander allowed for that comment to fester as he took a step past her. He brought his arm across her chest and placed her head on his lips. He spoke softly, “You have every right to be disappointed in me. My body might have failed me this night as it did back in July, but I breathed today no less than I did before. I still can fight.”
“So?” She sounded like she was actually pouting! “That wasn’t your goal.”
“When I chose to stalk Selena as my next prey, I mistook her for a mannequin, propped up by SCW, to sell tickets and to sell merchandise. I wanted nothing more than to destroy her. I was very wrong, she isn’t weak, and she wasn’t manufactured.”
“But you failed.”
“But she failed to destroy me. Her goal wasn’t to defeat me but to end me. She now knows that the course necessary to achieve that end means mutual destruction. She blinked. She had me once again and she couldn’t pull the trigger. This time, she was far too weak.”
“Then how does that show any strength?” Hunter pressed her hands to his side, slipping from his grasp. She stepped forward, back turned, shaking her head. “At best, you speak of a stalemate… but at least, she scored the win.”
“No. Not a stalemate.”
“Then what?”
“I pulled aside the curtains for the whole world to see. If I simply wanted victory over Selena, I would have stopped at Under Attack. I wanted to see for myself even that there’s another monster like me lurking. And there is. An SCW-sponsored monster. Now, I’m not self-righteous to say I planned to set her free, I let the Damian Angels of the world to do such charity, but I wanted the entire world to see that those who they cheer for is completely arbitrary. The men and women SCW promote are arbitrary. This is all arbitrary!” Xander held his side as he offered his explanation. She still did not turn to face her. He understood she didn’t want to show the face, withered in derision. “My strength lies that I can live with myself despite the fact. The fact that I plan to continue despite the minor setback. Yes, my pride is injured but my resolve is not. The strength is in my resolve.”
“I’m starting to think you’re the one full of shit.”
“Listen,” Xander grasped her shoulders. He turned her around. He caressed her face with a single hand. His sandpaper palm provided a strong contrast to her smooth cheek. “I never expect you to understand. You will never fully understand me. As I said, you’re not a monster and I hope you never will be.”
“I want to be strong. You promised-,” Hunter started.
Xander cut her off with an angry yell, “Enough with promises! You can’t rely on others to find strength. You can only rely on yourself. How much longer will take for you understand that simple fact?”
“Then what need do I have for you?” She spat back, lowering his hand from her face.
“I don’t know. You tell me,” Xander lowered his voice, realizing he had been yelling. He found himself looking towards Connor’s bedroom. He did not want to recreate a toxic household. He had done that before; flashbacks to the wreckage he used to leave his house with Calli haunted him. Now, look at the mess he made. Xander clenched his fists. He wasn’t angry at her. No, he was frustrated. She had come a long way, but she came to be dependent on him. She sought strength through him and somehow, he needed to cut the cord. She wasn’t supposed to be transformed into a monster, but a fighter that could lift her fists. Right now, she was a pet bird, perched upon his shoulder, watching his every move.
“He’s sleeping,” Hunter commented as she lowered her head. His words struck Hunter harshly. She moved over to the recliner and dumped herself onto the cushions. Good, let her suck on his words for a while. She needed to think for herself. He won’t always be there for her. It’s time for her to grow. She then mentioned, almost distantly, “You know, like how teenagers always do.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Xander commented as he moved towards the bedroom door. His grandfather had him awake at six every morning, regardless of the day or if Xander had school. His days in that boxing ring reminded him now of what he was trying to accomplish with the people in his life. His grandfather built him up from nothing as Xander tried to do for Hunter. But how did it he faltered and turned into a monster? Xander pondered the question as he quietly opened the door a crack. He peered in but see nothing. He needed to know the answer because of the worry he held regarding his son. He feared his son was going to become like him and if there was one legacy he truly cared about, it was that his son wouldn’t turn out like him, a monster that’s only strength is destruction. No, he needed to avoid such a tragedy.
“Sleeping huh?”
“Yes. He’s sleeping.”
Xander swung open the door and stepped in. He walked up to the bed, pressing his hands on the blankets to search for warmth. Hunter had been wrong. The cold sheets at least testified to such. He sat onto the edge of the bed, running both hands across his head. Teenagers also enjoyed sneaking out but given the circumstances, a gut-wrenching feeling erupted within Xander. For the past two months since Xander brought Connor into his home, they barely spoke. When they did, he only received one-word answers from his son. The school became a hassle. Fights, disrespect towards teachers, suspensions had meant the boy became more and more isolated.
“So he took off again?” Hunter spoke from the doorway.
“My grandfather would have taken a belt to me if I took off at his age without saying anything. I don’t know what to do… Fuck, I don’t know what to do.”
“I wonder what he gets up to. He has no friends.”
“That’s what concerns me,” Xander answered. He also wanted to add that he lacked friends as well. Frustration still toiled away inside of him, now the blade turned towards him, pulling him towards the ledge. He didn’t want to jump. He didn’t want to rage. His anger was what created this mess. Guilt was what perpetuated the situation. And the person who suffered from Xander’s shortcomings as a father was his son. Unlike with Hunter, Xander did not know how to clean up this wreckage. Abby muddied the water with her perverted influence upon the lad. Thus, he hated Abby.
Speaking of the devil, the police still failed to find her. She hid in plain sight, almost if she dared him to come to pay a visit. He didn’t leak to the police that she had been staying with a junky ex. Chad kept pestering him to arrange an encounter with the bitch. Xander kept calling a meeting off, worried what would transpire if he did confront the woman. If her body turned up, Xander would be the first suspect to come in mind.
“You don’t suppose that he’s sneaking out to meet her?” Hunter echoed Xander’s gravest concern.
“She can’t be that stupid. That’s inviting an arrest.”
“What if she really does love him?”
“He barely into puberty. She’s a full-grown woman. It’s not love, it’s fucking lust. She’s sick. I know sick.” After all, I’m sick… Xander thought. He knew people were that stupid. Impulses were hard to control. If he had better control, he would haven’t been in so many messes in his life. He wouldn’t be in this mess. “I might have to deal with her after all.”
“Why not simply tip the police? Let them handle her.”
“I know you’ve been advocating that for months now, but I don’t trust the cops one bit. There’s a double standard when it comes to pedophiles,” Xander explained. After all, how many movies and music videos sensationalized that variety of taboo; the hot for teacher fetish is real and prominent in the porn industry. Roles reserved, there would be a manhunt. Xander decided, “I need to take care of this. It’s my responsibility.”
“You’re on thin ice as it is. What you going to do? Kill her? You can’t risk handling this problem yourself. You can’t dirty your hands. All eyes are on you.”
“You think I don’t know that.”
“If they’re really are having secret rendezvouses. Go to the police. Xander, you need to protect your son,” Hunter pleaded.
Xander knew that was the truth.
He did need to protect Connor.
It was his responsibility as the boy’s father.
What sets me apart from my former self, isn’t the fact that I’ve grown weaker; no, I’m still the Xander Valentine of the past.
What set me apart is that I no longer care simply about tallies in the win and loss column. Selena Frost might have defeated me, she might have barely scraped by, but the hell I put her through, the embrace I wrapped around her, she ended up being exposed. The mask over the Face of SCW has been peeled back to reveal the darkness underneath. Selena Frost with her beautiful lie serves as the perfect representative of what Supreme Championship Wrestling is really about: violence… sadism… sugarcoated by brilliant marketing to make the consumes think this is some proper sport.
Integrity is dead since I’m walking free through those halls.
We all now know Selena Frost is a monster like me. Yeah, we see the insecurity about rejection, the fear about being ostracized for her true self… for good reason, you don’t need to look far, after all, just look at me. I understand her fanatic need to spin, to distort reality like the good politician she has come to be, we all know the truth. There is leviathan swimming in the darkest depths of her soul. And that is why the Philly fans turned against her because they don’t buy into that ingenious bullshit she’s peddling. Oh no. We heard the ‘bullshit’ chants ring out after her victory. We all heard the ‘Selena sucks’ chants. This is only the beginning, her Disney empire crumbling. I’ve exposed her. I’ve revealed her ingenuity. But I’m not going to sit here on a soapbox, preaching as if I’m some holy man with a heavy stone to cast; I’m going to take a moment, sit back, and enjoy the show.
I’ve pulled a string. Now it’s time to watch it unravel.
According to the record books, I’ve lost the battles, but I’ve won the war. Selena’s never going to be the same. She’s never going to be viewed the same.
I know it.
She knows it.
The whole world knows it.
But Selena Frost is right about one thing, and that I’m on a tight leash, chained out in the yard. She wants to maintain this laughable image that she’s my keeper, but she only accomplished saving herself. She left the rest of you to suffer. A heroine only capable of protecting herself isn’t much of a heroine at all. I’m about to show her, not through tweets, but through action that win-loss records don’t save a damn soul. I’m still here. I’m still wrestling in a SCW ring, and that ring is my yard. The fans might be safe, little thanks to Selena, but because of the legal and financial ramifications that prevent me from going on another joy ride through the crowd. So the next hit and run on some fans better be worth unemployment and jail time.
But there’s a lot of innocent blood still left to shred though. A lot of innocence still within reach. The SCW locker room is nothing more than a pen filled with lamb, lamb to the slaughter, sheep with overgrown fleeces, needing to be sheared.
And the fans know my sincerity.
And who is a more perfect candidate to prove my sincerity than our beloved Konrad Raab…
Konrad Raab, the man who thinks hiding behind a mask makes him a monster worth being scared over. A man refusing to accept that he’s simply a shitty person, just like the rest of us. I’ve been there, bub. Abbandon was my mask, but I’ve long since ripped it off. I know I’m a horrible person with base desires and a perchance for sadism. I’ve given up on this romantic idea of redemption. There’s no cure for that darkness, brother. I’ve surrendered this notion that we’re capable of a higher level of existence. We’re no Buddha. We’re SCW Wrestlers. And we shorten lives by beating the shit out of each other.
Stop hiding, Konrad. Hiding means that you’re only a pretender.
But you, Konrad Raab, despite some distinct actions to the contrary, there is still this air of innocence about you. People harbor this sympathy towards you. People cheer for you. Mask or no mask, they clamor behind you, waiting for the day that you finally reward their goodwill with a high-profile victory. I don’t expect it to be any different this week.
But unfortunately to them, you’re going to fail on that promise this week. You’re the first of many to be offered up to sacrifice. I plan to paint that canvas crimson, sending a message to the rest of the SCW roster, that I’m coming… I’m a blood-soaked hurricane roaring through this company.
But I’m going to make a confession. And I’m going to enjoy hanging you up, carving you to bits.. You see, Konrad, you’ve received the proper attention from our mutual acquaintance, Regan Helms, that I have still failed to receive… almost a year ago, Regan Street promised me she was going to punish me, she was going to make me regret my transgressions. Over the course of the year, she keeps yipping, she trying to bite my ankle, but she has not pounced at the opportunities to fulfill her promise. But she was more than eager to conclude her business with you. She was more than eager to face you.
And I’m jealous.
And that jealousy is what going to make this match taste so sweet. Knowing that Selena Frost and Regan Street will be watching Breakdown in the back, bearing witness as I destroy my first innocence under their watch and there’s nothing…. Nothing that they can do to stop me. Because it’s within my yard. Leave a dog out in the cold, they’re going to warm themselves with a fresh carcass.
They can’t protect shit. They can’t do shit. You won’t either, Konrad Rabb. When I drop your body at their feet, on their doorstep, they will remember one thing.
I’m Xander Valentine.
I bow to no one.
Executioner's Plight 