Post by Benjamin Atreyu on Jan 31, 2016 16:52:20 GMT -5
There were gallows sitting in the middle of the Twin Cities! That's right, Gallows. The thing people use to hang in when it was legal to hang people (personally, considering the miserable state the world is in these days, I think it should still be legal). They are standing erect and ready on the state Capitol.
What is the meaning of thus? Is there to be an execution? Are we to devolve back into the days of Kangaroo courts, witch trials, and public murder? What madness has spread over the land where such an image of morbidness could be pranced around in front of the sensible public? Who would be so dasterdly, so cruel, so cold and uncaring to set up such an exhibition of tastelessness?
The answer is I, Benjamin Atreyu, have done so. See, in a world where society's attention span has been drained to a mere moment, it is only the attention grabbing images that will be remembered at the end of the day. I dare say that there is none more eye-catching than that of a device of public execution! The gallows strike dread into the heart of every man, woman, and child. So potent is the structure that even after years of having never been used, seen, or displayed, it still manages to strike at the heart with the same power as it did years ago. It is the first and last word in the story of good and evil. Be good or its to the gallows with you. No better punishment has existed. It was the ultimate stamp in the history of human cruelty and morality all rolled up into one.
Still, though, you may be asking yourself, what is the purpose of putting up such a structure in the middle of such a populated area? What could you hope to gain by striking at the very soul of the Minnesotan population?
The answer is quite simple. I'm sending a message. But with no cameras, reporters, or News outlets present? Exactly! See, nothing strikes with more of a sense of legitimacy than word of mouth. If you want people to be convinced that you mean something, than do it when no cameras are recording. Bono, every year, gives to charity and helps underprivileged countries, but as the camera rolls, and his image is plastered against every billboard, it is hard to think of him as anything more than a media sucking vampire, looking only for his own sense of fame. Here, in the middle of Minnesota, it is a spectacle, but one of intimacy!
People will talk about this moment like a disaster, a historic moment, a time and place that will never be repeated. I was there when he did it! I saw it all occurring as it happened! There will even be some who lie about being there! They will tell their friends, relay the details as it had been relayed to them, all for the sake of being able to say that they were in touch with that moment, forever connected by the mere act of sitting around and watching it, even though they hadn't.
I walk along the cracked pavement, smirking at the obelisk of sorts, swimming in the air of fear it produced from deep down in its wooden heart. In a city filled with skyscrapers, somehow this structure felt as if it was towering above it all. People gawked. Gawking just the way I dreamed they would. It was catching their interest. It had them by a rope, so-to-speak.
I moved up the steps, taking note of every creak and groan the wood gave, as if it was all adding to the authenticity of the situation. It was awe inspiring, I felt a true sense of control, a true sense of power. I could almost sink into the role of executioner, get lost in a time period so far away from our own.
I dawned a hangman's hood, keeping myself faceless to the onlooking eyes. Watching them follow me with their gaze. Beside me were six nooses, and in those six nooses were six necks. No, not of real men, my dear reader. It would be beyond me to bring two stories of murder in a single week. Dummies (much like the WCF locker room, HAR HAR HAR!) strapped in tight, ready to play the part of six men. They stood with bags over their heads. Upon each bag was written a name.
Johnny Rabid, Steve Orbit, Spencer Adams, Gravedigger, Bonnie Blue, and Logan. Six surrogates for six living and breathing individuals, a not-so-humble few ready to collide with destiny at Fifteen, the upcoming pay-per-view that EVERYONE was talking about. Well, if everyone was yammering about it, why not give them more to discuss?
I paced back and forth in front of the audience. Letting silence linger over them as they tried to take a guess as to what was happening. Surely their minds were racing to make sense of this surreal presentation. Its only natural. However, more than anything else, I saw an eagerness in their eyes. Whatever was happening on this day, it was going to be interesting, and they couldn't wait for everything to get into motion.
I let it all hang (HAR HAR HAR!) in the air for a little longer, enjoying the show that the masses were unwittingly putting on for me. In their details, their facial expressions was a story, an developing narrative in the human brain. How electric impulses were darting through their body to contort muscles, mix chemicals, and cause reactions. Inside each and every spectator was a three act structure that flashed by in an instant, restrained by the most expert use of subtlety.
Let it be known, dear reader, if you want to know the dynamics of story telling, watch their eyes. Even Kurosawa himself couldn't match what was being unveiled before me.
After a little while longer I finally cried out.
"DEAR CIVILIANS!" A pause, I heard it echo, reaching out to the growing crowd, "On this day, in the year of our lord twenty sixteen, I bring before you, not just a spectacle, not just lesson to the masses, but the just punishment of six heinous criminals! Six individuals who, up until now, have been allowed to run free, terrorizing the world with their brutal and selfish nature. They have committed acts against god, society, and good decency in general."
I could hear a murmuring rising from the crowd as I continued with my speech.
"Now, you might find yourself asking, 'dear sir, if these six individuals are so bad, then why haven't the justice system done anything to stop them?' The unfortunate truth is that our decaying and corrupt system has bent our world in such a way, distorted our views so thoroughly, that we fail to hold a standard high enough that would lead in the capture and punishment of these six monsters.
"So, I have taken it upon myself to do what needed to be done to bring these beings-of-a-less-nature, sub-humans if you will, to justice. To see that they are given the treatment they so rightfully deserve, and to see that we, as a species, are one step closer to the path of righteousness, and I don't think there is one among you on this fine day that would object to the idea of proper morals and proper punishment. If so, then speak now!"
I paused for an interruption that I knew wouldn't come. They were too far taken to say anything. Who would dare interrupt such a show? They all wanted to see how this would play out, see how it would all end. Would they truly hang. Sure, they are merely puppets on a string so-to-speak, but could the end result of this lesson really be that it is better to kill out in the open than to let the system work as it had for so many years?
"Now, I am not a man without a conscience. I would not just let these men, and woman, swing from the neck and leave you all to just assume they were evil. I have every intention of letting their crimes be heard by the ears of the waiting masses, so that this can serve as a sense of foreshadowing for all those who might be considering to walk down the path that these people have."
Before each 'hangee' was a lever. Each lever was hooked to a mechanism that would release the floor out from under the dummy. I stepped before the first lever, which sat in front of the dummy marked 'Steve Orbit.
"For my first vic...er...CRIMINAL!" I straightened my posture, I addressed the non-entity behind me as I continued to watch the audience, "'The Mack' Steve Orbit. To here by referred to as the 'treacherous pimp'. You have been charged with the crimes of lying, prostitution, bad taste, immoral behavior, and the general corruption of the public at large.
"Your lies have been that of a leading nature. You have lead the world astray by letting them believe that your lifestyle was a prosperous one. In your sleezey demeanor, you have implanted the idea that if the youth were to follow in your foot steps, it would see the light of your personal view of paradise. That all would much like you; successful, happy, and respected. You have convinced our youth of a sick view that there is something to love in the way you demean women, boast of sexual exploits, and regard the world with a lack of seriousness, as if the years of building a system of order and law had all been a waste.
"Do you regard the government as a joke? Should our world have never bothered to create a system that WORKS? Do you think it is a joke how these POOR men and women slave each and every day to keep our world afloat by doing their small jobs which someone like you would deem insignificant?"
I LOVE the strawman argument, especially in its most literal form.
"Where would you be without the cashiers? Where would you be without the men who kept our nuclear reactors in check? Surely we can't all abandon a world of decent living to become pimps? Who would be our buyers? If we all had 'bitches' who would come to us? You mock the workers of the world by leading them to believe, through your actions alone, that they are inferior, even though it is you who profits off their sadness.
"They feel weak, alone, without will or ability, they need a place to lay themselves, a place to feel happy and significant for a moment. THAT IS WHERE YOU COME IN! You prey on them, pretend to be their friend, their role model, but you are just the bar that you and I know they will never reach. You are the sickness which makes man hate himself. How DARE You try and call yourself some sort of hero, you disgusting abuser of the flesh!
"Even now, you show the world that there is no such thing as a sense of enough as you return to WCF and the race for the World title, land you had already conquered before, but feel the repeated need to trample over AGAIN AND AGAIN! You fuck whores, steal championships, and destroy men. You spread sickness as you walk across the land and think nothing of your actions. You care only for yourself.
"Think of all your former partners, the ones here and gone, whom you no longer talk to because it no longer fits your need! What of Waylon Cash?! A man you once held titles with. When is the last time you talked to him without needing him to carry you? No wonder he betrayed you. I can't say I wouldn't do the same if I realized you were only it this game to make yourself look good.
"Don't deny your vein behavior! On Slam only a few weeks ago, you bragged, unprompted, about how you slept with three women at a time. No one asked. No one wanted to know, but you NEEDED to tell someone! You NEEDED for the world to know.
"You are not a man, but a warning, you have sunk so deep into the world of self-gratification, that you are the only man you can please, and it takes more and more to please you each time. So consider me a merciful man, for if I were not to hang you, there is a chance that someday, when your lifestyle no longer pleases you, when no amount of women can keep you entertained, you will find no light in the world. You will cease to see the appeal of your excess, and maybe in the end, no longer at the peak of your pleasures, you will hang yourself instead.
"You are found guilty. You shall hang until dead!"
I kicked the lever before me. I could hear mechanisms shift, and the floor fell out from under the Steve Orbit dummy. The crowd gasped, for a moment forgetting that it was not the real Steve Orbit that swung like a marionette.
I felt a rush, it filled the entirety of my being. This was exactly what I wanted, everything was going as planned. They were hooked, unable to pull themselves free from the hooks I've sunk into their subconscious.
I stepped over to the next lever, this one sitting in front of the dummy marked as "Logan". An uncanny resemblance in the realm of brain power I would say.
"Logan...Just Logan. You have been charged with the crime of being one of the most shallow creatures ever put on God's green earth. I hesitate to call you a man, because it seems you are less than that. You are a sack, a shell controlled primarily by impulses that barely contain that of a personality, much less that of a soul.
"You act not as if you were a cog in the machine of society - a machine I have every intention of keeping neat and lean - but instead as an entity living above the rest. You walk through your life like you're the only one. the Face of Treacher you call yourself, and unfortunately I cannot find a more suiting title for you. You are more of a personification of an idea than a being of free will. You seem to represent that of a conglomeration of actions meant to reflect the dark corners of the human mind.
"Now, while this all may come off as a compliment to you, this adds up very differently to me. This strikes me not of a man who lives in a world of his own design, but one to weak to live in reality. See, many will claim that it takes true strength to act above the system, but the truth is real strength is going in system sustaining. It takes real effort to work within the bounds of society. Like a child, you either color in the lines, taking care and precision in your work, or you scribble, not caring, half-assing your life until you die.
"In a world where lines and borders are ignored, nothing is formed. There is no craft, only that impulse I mentioned before. You may see it, dear Logan, as intelligent to burn others for your benefit, or even amusement, but I promise you that I have never met a man with a weaker will than yours.
"Consider this. In the Final Destination match up that looms ever closer. What if, mid-match, you find that the pain is more than worth the World Title? What if you find that you'd rather do something more beneficial to yourself? Where will your fight be then? How can you expect to reach the top and grab that contract if you are too set in this need to work on instant-gratification alone.
"Sure, you've done a great deal in the past, but what does that mean now if your will, every fiber of your being, no longer think it is worth the fight?
"By existing, you disrupt the true flow of the system. You move let your own current sweep you away, sending your crashing against the herd that works against the push of the world. You don't care who you hit, and that by itself makes you unfit to live. You lower the standard we, as a society, set for ourselves. We look at you and we see the corpse, the never-was-alive thing we carry each day.
"You have let your intelligence go to waste by using it to rationalize every decision. Steering it away from the truth and into a reality you know does not fit. Your masochistic AND sadistic actions are an active reminder of your decadence, not only in the realm of desire, but in that of reasoning. To save the world from your further waste of air, it is my obligation to end your dwelling in this life, and send you to the next for your final judgement"
I could tell the buzz words of 'God' and 'Justice' were working its magic. In the mind's eye, the crowd saw this as something bigger than even the structure would suggest. It was not just a matter of law, this represented a cosmic struggle, one for balance. Whether or not they agreed with the thesis, they could feel its gravity.
"You have been found guilty. You are to be hanged until dead. May this rope choke your soul just as it chokes your body."
Again. I kick the lever. Again, engineering goes to work. Again, another body is left dangling in the air like a hat on a rack. No gasp from the audience this time. Good. It should never shock the second time, but reaffirm a theme in thought. I wanted them to feel the rhythm of the situation, to get lost in it. Forget, for a second that its all a play. I want them to shift their realities into the lie for at least a moment. To become the faceless mob we picture in ever mention of executions in those old history text books.
I move over a little ways to the left. Two down, four to go. Almost half way. It was Spencer's turn. Spencer Adams, one of the underdogs in this little match up of ours. Though, if your asked the audience, him and I both appeared to be underdogs in this match up, an appearance I hope to quickly rectify.
"Next is Spencer Adams," I pause and smile, a smile that they can't see. To them I was still the faceless hangman, "you have been accuse of the crime of not being enough. You view yourself a hero, do you not?"
Know the great thing about dummies is they can't argue. They can't get in the way of your words. They just sit there quietly and wait for it all to be over. If only people were more like dummies.
"You fight for what you consider to be the side of good? Well, if these proceedings have shown us anything so far, it is that it is not enough to merely be 'good' or to act as one believes to be 'good', but to make sure the world benefits from your existence, and unfortunately, you - in your entirety - are not enough. You scrape by, but you are simply a failing machine. Sputtering and sparking in the faint hope of work. You weigh down the rest of us as we work from day to day to make the world a fine place to live. You are saw dust on a raging fire in the hopes of putting it out.
"You refer to yourself as 'The Antidote' from time to time, but unfortunately it is only a name. You are the tumor ridden side of a brain that now has to shift all its processes over to the other side, making the task all that much harder with your rotting weight.
"Now, to you, with that rope around your neck, this may not sound like a crime. You may want to try to make a case that it isn't, but I assure you, this is as bad as anything I will mention on this stage today.
"This kind of punishment isn't just to act against those who attack society with its wrongs, but to show that mediocrity is nothing to aspire to. How you managed to make it into the Final Destination match at Fifteen is beyond me. It is my duty to put an end to it. To stop it before mediocrity can spread and rot this world from the inside out. I can only hope that as these people watch you hang, they will understand how important it is to strive, to rise above plain 'existing' and become something of greatness.
"Many politicians will claim it, but as you can see, it is only I, by going out into the world and doing what needs to be done, that can make this country great again. One cannot make a product better if he does not find the weak elements and crush them.
"I wish to put a stop to your kind! To make second best a thing of the past. To let men of true ability and virtue rise above the dust and raise the average to extraordinary.
"Do you see it, Mister Adams? Do you understand why it is important that I don't skip over any crime? That I must punish all justly? This isn't anything personal, how could it be? I am doing this for the good of the world. As a 'hero' you should be able to understand that. So, as you stand there, undoubtedly shaking in fear, find solace in the fact that I am ridding the world of your weakness. I am cutting out the tumors you have supplied, and if my work reaches the people it needs to, this world can become something so much more like God would want it to be.
"For these crimes, you are found guilty and will be hanged until dead. Maybe god have mercy on your soul."
I kick the lever with glee and the Spencer dummy drops beautifully until the rope provides the sudden stop. The audience was drawn in, helpless against the hypnotism of this grotesque act.
A new lever. A new dummy. This time Johnny Rabid. Oh, how I'll relish on this one. I hope he doesn't think I've forgotten when I was Head of Talent Relations and #BeachKrew had control of the companies, how he DEMANDED I met John Gable's needs, how I needed to 'do my job'. Then, of course, how last week we were teamed together. We all know how that went. This one was going to be fun.
"Johnny Rabid...you stupid toxic piece of shit. You have been accused of the crime of being a Beach Krew henchman, of working below your station, and of being a limey brit. Granted, I wouldn't hang someone for being British, but it definitely adds to the pleasure I take in this.
"See, unlike Mister Adams, you are a man of great ability. Unlike Orbit, you are a man who knows restraint. Unlike Logan, you are a man who knows how to work WELL with others. Unfortunately, it seems like all that is wasted as you spend your life in the shadow of others. You are a mogul, a man who has experienced and travel, but you play second fiddle. You show the world that one can have talent, but then not use it, wasting months just waiting.
"It reminds me of the tail of Seabiscuit, the horse trained to lose. It had the ability, and strength, but after years of being forced to play 'below' its abilities, you would constantly fail to break such a habit, even when it was pushed to win. Unfortunately, I don't think that you will have the same ending. I think its too deep in your blood now.
"Honestly, you could have been a world champion, but you let Wade take that spot, now instead you are fighting just for a chance at the title. Even if you did manage to make your way up the ladder and grab that contract, would you be able to push Wade out of the way to grab that gold?
"What kind of role model are you? See, there are so many other things you could be here for, but I wanted to bring out a particular point. That you people are damaging not just yourselves, but those who watch you. Not that you care, Mister Rabid, but if I didn't make an example out of your waste of talent, clearly displayed elsewhere, then this would be a waste. Frankly, you know what you've done to gain this spot, you know the horrible things in your soul that make it so you deserve to be here. When you hear your neck snap, it will all race through your head, but maybe if I bring it out into the open, you'll realize your inability to take what is yours is also one of them, and I cannot forgive that."
I wanted to tear him down. If he somehow heard what I said of him, it would be glorious. I wanted him to feel weak, have it implanted in his head that he would be the cause of his own failures. Not limitations, not someone else's ability, but his subconscious submissive nature. I said it because I wanted it to be true for him, that was the fun I was having with this. If I could kill him from the inside out, even if I didn't win, that would be a sufficient victory for me.
"You have been found guilty. You will be hanged until dead. Enjoy serving in hell, you british fuck."
KICK, WHAM, DEAD PUPPET! A thrill shot through me. This was power, this was god-like. I wasn't just a man on a stage, I was something more. Maybe this is what preachers and televangelists felt. Maybe this was why they screamed at the top of their lungs week in and week out. If you speak the 'word of the lord' you feel a bit like the lord. You can look over all of creation, praising and condemning as you see fit.
It was Bonnie Blues turn. Oh, poor Bonnie Blue. In setting this all up, I had almost forgotten about her, even despite her incredibly strangeness in the world, that anomaly that was her being wasn't enough to keep my interested. She was there, but only so there before I lost interest. Thankfully she replied to a tweet I put out earlier this week, reminding me that she existed, to whatever extent that meant.
"Bonnie Blue, you have been charged with the crime...of having no soul. Not in the sense of blues and jazz artists. You are an abomination. A disgusting clone. You are not human, you are merely a copy, a faint illusion.
"As such, you are a walking representation of humanities failure to picture itself as anything more than a shallow image of itself. You pretend to be just like us, even though you are not one of us. I feel more when I look at a dog, an animal that eats its own shit and vomit. A dog is a natural being, it belongs in the scheme of the universe. A dog is a part of creation. You sit behind a veil of sorts.
"How does your ill-defined role in life's master plan put you up here on this day you might ask? Simply put, you everything a human should fight against. You are an illusion. You are a mask on life."
I was pulling all these thoughts out of my ass. It was a faint emotional connection, to put Bonnie Blue in comparison with dishonesty, but boy did I ride that train to the station.
"If we wish to be honest with ourselves in society, then we need to cast away everything that resembles dishonesty. We need to destroy the reminders of how things aren't as they seem, that we should work, not for our own means which we hide, but for the honest better living of our entire society.
"How can I believe that you see as I see? Think as I think? How do I know you aren't like a computer, without ideas of your own, reacting only as you've been programmed to. Now, I can't claim to know all the details, but thats what scares me. Its what I don't know. All I know is you aren't human, but an echo of a human, a copy. We in OUR society must not strive to reach others, but instead to be ABOVE others. We must be our OWN men, to be strong, to never settle for a lesser cause."
Again, a very loose argument pulled by an emotional connection, and I loved it. I wonder if the crowd noticed that this last bit contradicted the Steve Orbit portion where I said the world needed these little people to be where they are at? Oh, how I loved this portion of my job, how it revealed so much about the audience. Their stupidity, their inability to connect the dots. How they just coast from one event to another. How I could probably just sit here, even make up facts about Bonnie, and they wouldn't bat an eye.
"For your crimes again humanity, you are to be HANGED UNTIL DEAD!"
Kick. Open. Swinging like it was on a jungle-gym. One more to go.
I paused for a moment, looking at the last standing dummy marked "Gravedigger". How I didn't want this to end. How I took pleasure with every movement, knowing that it was all eyes on me, that it was my performance they wanted to see. I was the star, just like it should have been all those years ago when I signed up to join this wretched company. I should have been on top from the word go, but obstacle after obstacle has gotten into my way. No more, this was my turn, my time. This egregious mistake was to be corrected, and when I won the Final Destination match, I would go on and win that World title. It would finally be mine. No more chasing.
I stepped before the last dummy. The crowd on the edge for their seat. They had been silent almost this entire time, moving along with me in this story, witnessing each movement as if it all added up to one grand statement. They were drawn in like sheep, ready to witness the next hanging. They wanted it. Maybe they didn't agree with it, but they wanted to see it. They wanted to see the end of this.
"Gravedigger!" I exclaimed, as my voice died away, you could almost hear a pin drop. I'm sure if I looked closer, I could see a mouth or two licking its lips with anticipation, "you have been accused of the crime of being.........ooooooooold. Hanged until dead. Enjoy your death." I kicked the last lever and then, in its natural end, Gravedigger hanged beside the rest.
"Now, as I'm sure you've noticed. Beyond the obvious connection of their crimes, or the mere fact that they are up here, I'm sure you've noticed one more common denominator these individuals had in common."
I paused, again no one responded, I had these fools under my thumb.
"They are all booked to participate, as I've mentioned, in The ever talked about Final Destination match at WCF's coming pay-per-view Fifteen...but, I wonder, about the last competitor? Aren't there seven wrestlers in that match up? Why are there only six bodies currently dangling? Is it possible I overlooked him?"
If physics did not limit me, my grin would have been three miles wide. I reached up, had a firm hold of the hangman's hood over my head, and quickly yanked it off, revealing my glistening face to the crowd. I laughed a deep and hearty laugh.
"Of course not! While other's may have, the only reason I am not a participant in this macabre swing set is for the mere fact that I am the saving grace! I have the strength, the intelligence, the wherewithal, the talent, and the drive to win in order to set a new standard.
"For too long WCF has settled for less, for louder, but not better, men. This six individuals represent the disease that plagues the company every day. I saw it in my position as an official for the company, and now again as a competitor. These six individuals are the perfect example of what ruins this sport, what makes it less than the amazing thing I loved when I was growing up.
"Look at them. Do they look like they deserve to be World Champion? No. So, why do you people keep asking for them to be? You saw Steve Orbit and you were all ready to watch him trample the competition to get the gold back.
"I've been saying FOR YEARS! I am the rightful champion. I am the standard that the company should be put to, and at Final Destination I am going to take every prediction, every time I was over looked, and shove it straight up the world's ass. Never again will I be looked at as anything less than a contender. I am the air of greatness that will follow every conversation about this company. More than a wrestler, I will be a legend, a myth, a person who will live far beyond my own death by being the pebble in the water that will ripple centuries from now.
"Will you ignore me then? Will you still continue to look to this lesser beings? Will you disregard what you know to be true just because they make you feel better? Take some responsibility for once in your life and choose the best answer, the one actually standing right in front of you. Pick to stand behind 'God Given Greatness' Benjamin Atreyu.
"I'm not looking for your approval. That is far from the point, I will move on regardless. This is for YOUR benefit. I am giving you an opportunity. Don't be stuck at the gallows, don't worship the dying and soon-to-be-dead. Stick with those who keep their head out of from the noose, because when that match up, all of us will climb up, but only one will get the chance to climb back down."
-.-.-
Sitting in the same care as Michael Easton took all of my resolve. I had the hangman hood sitting next to me in the back seat as he sat up front, driving.
"Pretty clever little act your put together," Michael said, "A nice grand gesture."
"Sure," I refused him the satisfaction of taking his compliment with humility.
"See, what I found real fun was that you weren't really talking about them, were you?"
"Don't know what you are referring to."
"Oh, come on, Benjyboy," he grinned as he looked into the rear view mirror, "all that talk about betrayal, weakness, disgust, lies, and being unable to trust. Sure, it does apply to them, and you did personalize it for each and every one of them, but don't think I'm blind."
"..."
"I'm not going to hold anything against you for hating me," he put his eyes back on the road, "I did trick you, but look at it this way, I'm not so much blackmailing you as forcing you to pay for my offered services. The motivation just happens to be a corpse in the middle of a forest."
"We don't have to talk to each other, you know." I replied with spite.
"But I like talking to you, Benjyboy," he hardly registered it, "you are a man of intelligence. Just because I tricked you doesn't make you dumb. You didn't have all the information, and I was just using that to my advantage. I still plan on doing what I promised, there just happens to be a new kink in our relationship."
"Why help? Why not just enjoy your victory?"
"Because offering my help allows me to keep close to you. Letting me watch you squirm as you balance myself, your guilt, and wrestling in a spectacular act of nimbleness. No way would I be able to enjoy that from a distance. Due to your obligation to keep my quiet, you wouldn't dare turn me away. Hell, look at your career, I've made you important again."
"Please, stop talking," I looked out the window, trying to ignore him, trying to focus on how well the hangings went.
"Don't be that way," I hated it when he said that, "we have so much to talk about. Like what will happen if you win. Where do we go from there?"
"I go and win the World title, as simple as that."
"Oh, Benjy," Easton shook his head, "haven't you learned it can't be as simple as that? Life is hardly as simple as just going in and winning. What have I been telling you for the last couple of weeks? No, you just can't go in and win the World Title. Sure, physically you can, but then what does it mean? You have to make it mean something, bring some sort of power with it. Anyone can just...win it...but then those people get forgotten.
"You have to be more than that. You have to be a sort of beacon. Not one of hope. Definitely not, but a sort of 'welcome to my kingdom' type deal. If people step within one mile of you, they should no. It should be without question why you are holding that title when you hold it."
"We'll talk about it later," I didn't want to say it, but I would say anything just to get him to shut up. Everything could have been golden, but I saw him it would have been like a giant shit stain on my throne. He made me not want to win. He made me want to give up and disappear. He made me want to reenact every damaging and reckless event that had ever occurred in my life. I wanted to ruin every plan he had by ruining myself so his photos wouldn't mean anything to me. To be so care-free that the sentencing putting me in jail or the electric chair wouldn't even register enough to stir up electricity in the brain. I want to kill his plan more than I wanted that World Title, and damn did I want that belt.
"Now, later, what does it change?"
"It changes the time, which is good enough."
"The more time we spend planning, the more we can get done."
"I've gotten plenty done over my lifetime. This can wait a little bit."
"You haven't gotten nearly enough done in your life. Hence why I came to you in the first place. You may think that all the accomplishments that make up your body of work is something, but you're lying to yourself worse than I ever lied to you."
"What if I lose, hmm? Then all that planning will be for nothing." I wanted to use any argument I could.
"If you lose, we have to start from the ground-up anyways. There is no point of thinking about losing, because then we are on space zero."
"Goddamn it, will you just shut the fuck up?!" I yelled, "I don't care. I just don't. There is nothing in this world I hate more right now than the sound of your voice. I've listened to people chew with their mouth open and I've wanted to slit their throats. The buzzing of flies on a hot summer's day makes me want to burn down whole buildings. The slur of a toothless slacked-jaw yokel makes me want to commit mass homicide. But none o it, NOT A SINGLE BIT OF IT, comes even close to doing the damage your voice does anytime you open your mouth. It's a sickness, it really is, to hate something this much. I wish I could tear this hate out of my brain and throw it away, but I can't, so I'm stuck living in a life where I can't stand you but can't seem to get rid of you, leaving me in a perpetual hell. So, if you would grant me one pleasure in your endless torture, just shut the fuck up for a little bit, because if you don't, I'm going to jump forward, jerk that wheel out of your hands and drive us off of a bridge."
It didn't feel even a little good to tear into him. There was not a single ounce of joy in it, and to me that was the worst victory of all. He robbed me of my ability to yell at him with some satisfaction. I was so miserable, so lost in this world that it just felt like hot air wafting into my body. No release, I was without hope. He was truly a bastard, the last surviving member of a race that absolutely deserved to be called by that title. He was my cancer, my tumor, the thing slowly killing me, and what was I supposed to do.
He just looked back in the mirror with that smile. That shitty smile. That smile that said 'nothing is okay', 'you will never be alright', 'you will die alone'. Even if he disappeared today, that smile would be planted firmly in every nightmare I had until I died. He was happy with himself, too happy. It was like he was testing my will, draining me of everything I was made of to see what was left, trying to find some center where only hate and despair lived.
And all I could do was let him have his fun.
What is the meaning of thus? Is there to be an execution? Are we to devolve back into the days of Kangaroo courts, witch trials, and public murder? What madness has spread over the land where such an image of morbidness could be pranced around in front of the sensible public? Who would be so dasterdly, so cruel, so cold and uncaring to set up such an exhibition of tastelessness?
The answer is I, Benjamin Atreyu, have done so. See, in a world where society's attention span has been drained to a mere moment, it is only the attention grabbing images that will be remembered at the end of the day. I dare say that there is none more eye-catching than that of a device of public execution! The gallows strike dread into the heart of every man, woman, and child. So potent is the structure that even after years of having never been used, seen, or displayed, it still manages to strike at the heart with the same power as it did years ago. It is the first and last word in the story of good and evil. Be good or its to the gallows with you. No better punishment has existed. It was the ultimate stamp in the history of human cruelty and morality all rolled up into one.
Still, though, you may be asking yourself, what is the purpose of putting up such a structure in the middle of such a populated area? What could you hope to gain by striking at the very soul of the Minnesotan population?
The answer is quite simple. I'm sending a message. But with no cameras, reporters, or News outlets present? Exactly! See, nothing strikes with more of a sense of legitimacy than word of mouth. If you want people to be convinced that you mean something, than do it when no cameras are recording. Bono, every year, gives to charity and helps underprivileged countries, but as the camera rolls, and his image is plastered against every billboard, it is hard to think of him as anything more than a media sucking vampire, looking only for his own sense of fame. Here, in the middle of Minnesota, it is a spectacle, but one of intimacy!
People will talk about this moment like a disaster, a historic moment, a time and place that will never be repeated. I was there when he did it! I saw it all occurring as it happened! There will even be some who lie about being there! They will tell their friends, relay the details as it had been relayed to them, all for the sake of being able to say that they were in touch with that moment, forever connected by the mere act of sitting around and watching it, even though they hadn't.
I walk along the cracked pavement, smirking at the obelisk of sorts, swimming in the air of fear it produced from deep down in its wooden heart. In a city filled with skyscrapers, somehow this structure felt as if it was towering above it all. People gawked. Gawking just the way I dreamed they would. It was catching their interest. It had them by a rope, so-to-speak.
I moved up the steps, taking note of every creak and groan the wood gave, as if it was all adding to the authenticity of the situation. It was awe inspiring, I felt a true sense of control, a true sense of power. I could almost sink into the role of executioner, get lost in a time period so far away from our own.
I dawned a hangman's hood, keeping myself faceless to the onlooking eyes. Watching them follow me with their gaze. Beside me were six nooses, and in those six nooses were six necks. No, not of real men, my dear reader. It would be beyond me to bring two stories of murder in a single week. Dummies (much like the WCF locker room, HAR HAR HAR!) strapped in tight, ready to play the part of six men. They stood with bags over their heads. Upon each bag was written a name.
Johnny Rabid, Steve Orbit, Spencer Adams, Gravedigger, Bonnie Blue, and Logan. Six surrogates for six living and breathing individuals, a not-so-humble few ready to collide with destiny at Fifteen, the upcoming pay-per-view that EVERYONE was talking about. Well, if everyone was yammering about it, why not give them more to discuss?
I paced back and forth in front of the audience. Letting silence linger over them as they tried to take a guess as to what was happening. Surely their minds were racing to make sense of this surreal presentation. Its only natural. However, more than anything else, I saw an eagerness in their eyes. Whatever was happening on this day, it was going to be interesting, and they couldn't wait for everything to get into motion.
I let it all hang (HAR HAR HAR!) in the air for a little longer, enjoying the show that the masses were unwittingly putting on for me. In their details, their facial expressions was a story, an developing narrative in the human brain. How electric impulses were darting through their body to contort muscles, mix chemicals, and cause reactions. Inside each and every spectator was a three act structure that flashed by in an instant, restrained by the most expert use of subtlety.
Let it be known, dear reader, if you want to know the dynamics of story telling, watch their eyes. Even Kurosawa himself couldn't match what was being unveiled before me.
After a little while longer I finally cried out.
"DEAR CIVILIANS!" A pause, I heard it echo, reaching out to the growing crowd, "On this day, in the year of our lord twenty sixteen, I bring before you, not just a spectacle, not just lesson to the masses, but the just punishment of six heinous criminals! Six individuals who, up until now, have been allowed to run free, terrorizing the world with their brutal and selfish nature. They have committed acts against god, society, and good decency in general."
I could hear a murmuring rising from the crowd as I continued with my speech.
"Now, you might find yourself asking, 'dear sir, if these six individuals are so bad, then why haven't the justice system done anything to stop them?' The unfortunate truth is that our decaying and corrupt system has bent our world in such a way, distorted our views so thoroughly, that we fail to hold a standard high enough that would lead in the capture and punishment of these six monsters.
"So, I have taken it upon myself to do what needed to be done to bring these beings-of-a-less-nature, sub-humans if you will, to justice. To see that they are given the treatment they so rightfully deserve, and to see that we, as a species, are one step closer to the path of righteousness, and I don't think there is one among you on this fine day that would object to the idea of proper morals and proper punishment. If so, then speak now!"
I paused for an interruption that I knew wouldn't come. They were too far taken to say anything. Who would dare interrupt such a show? They all wanted to see how this would play out, see how it would all end. Would they truly hang. Sure, they are merely puppets on a string so-to-speak, but could the end result of this lesson really be that it is better to kill out in the open than to let the system work as it had for so many years?
"Now, I am not a man without a conscience. I would not just let these men, and woman, swing from the neck and leave you all to just assume they were evil. I have every intention of letting their crimes be heard by the ears of the waiting masses, so that this can serve as a sense of foreshadowing for all those who might be considering to walk down the path that these people have."
Before each 'hangee' was a lever. Each lever was hooked to a mechanism that would release the floor out from under the dummy. I stepped before the first lever, which sat in front of the dummy marked 'Steve Orbit.
"For my first vic...er...CRIMINAL!" I straightened my posture, I addressed the non-entity behind me as I continued to watch the audience, "'The Mack' Steve Orbit. To here by referred to as the 'treacherous pimp'. You have been charged with the crimes of lying, prostitution, bad taste, immoral behavior, and the general corruption of the public at large.
"Your lies have been that of a leading nature. You have lead the world astray by letting them believe that your lifestyle was a prosperous one. In your sleezey demeanor, you have implanted the idea that if the youth were to follow in your foot steps, it would see the light of your personal view of paradise. That all would much like you; successful, happy, and respected. You have convinced our youth of a sick view that there is something to love in the way you demean women, boast of sexual exploits, and regard the world with a lack of seriousness, as if the years of building a system of order and law had all been a waste.
"Do you regard the government as a joke? Should our world have never bothered to create a system that WORKS? Do you think it is a joke how these POOR men and women slave each and every day to keep our world afloat by doing their small jobs which someone like you would deem insignificant?"
I LOVE the strawman argument, especially in its most literal form.
"Where would you be without the cashiers? Where would you be without the men who kept our nuclear reactors in check? Surely we can't all abandon a world of decent living to become pimps? Who would be our buyers? If we all had 'bitches' who would come to us? You mock the workers of the world by leading them to believe, through your actions alone, that they are inferior, even though it is you who profits off their sadness.
"They feel weak, alone, without will or ability, they need a place to lay themselves, a place to feel happy and significant for a moment. THAT IS WHERE YOU COME IN! You prey on them, pretend to be their friend, their role model, but you are just the bar that you and I know they will never reach. You are the sickness which makes man hate himself. How DARE You try and call yourself some sort of hero, you disgusting abuser of the flesh!
"Even now, you show the world that there is no such thing as a sense of enough as you return to WCF and the race for the World title, land you had already conquered before, but feel the repeated need to trample over AGAIN AND AGAIN! You fuck whores, steal championships, and destroy men. You spread sickness as you walk across the land and think nothing of your actions. You care only for yourself.
"Think of all your former partners, the ones here and gone, whom you no longer talk to because it no longer fits your need! What of Waylon Cash?! A man you once held titles with. When is the last time you talked to him without needing him to carry you? No wonder he betrayed you. I can't say I wouldn't do the same if I realized you were only it this game to make yourself look good.
"Don't deny your vein behavior! On Slam only a few weeks ago, you bragged, unprompted, about how you slept with three women at a time. No one asked. No one wanted to know, but you NEEDED to tell someone! You NEEDED for the world to know.
"You are not a man, but a warning, you have sunk so deep into the world of self-gratification, that you are the only man you can please, and it takes more and more to please you each time. So consider me a merciful man, for if I were not to hang you, there is a chance that someday, when your lifestyle no longer pleases you, when no amount of women can keep you entertained, you will find no light in the world. You will cease to see the appeal of your excess, and maybe in the end, no longer at the peak of your pleasures, you will hang yourself instead.
"You are found guilty. You shall hang until dead!"
I kicked the lever before me. I could hear mechanisms shift, and the floor fell out from under the Steve Orbit dummy. The crowd gasped, for a moment forgetting that it was not the real Steve Orbit that swung like a marionette.
I felt a rush, it filled the entirety of my being. This was exactly what I wanted, everything was going as planned. They were hooked, unable to pull themselves free from the hooks I've sunk into their subconscious.
I stepped over to the next lever, this one sitting in front of the dummy marked as "Logan". An uncanny resemblance in the realm of brain power I would say.
"Logan...Just Logan. You have been charged with the crime of being one of the most shallow creatures ever put on God's green earth. I hesitate to call you a man, because it seems you are less than that. You are a sack, a shell controlled primarily by impulses that barely contain that of a personality, much less that of a soul.
"You act not as if you were a cog in the machine of society - a machine I have every intention of keeping neat and lean - but instead as an entity living above the rest. You walk through your life like you're the only one. the Face of Treacher you call yourself, and unfortunately I cannot find a more suiting title for you. You are more of a personification of an idea than a being of free will. You seem to represent that of a conglomeration of actions meant to reflect the dark corners of the human mind.
"Now, while this all may come off as a compliment to you, this adds up very differently to me. This strikes me not of a man who lives in a world of his own design, but one to weak to live in reality. See, many will claim that it takes true strength to act above the system, but the truth is real strength is going in system sustaining. It takes real effort to work within the bounds of society. Like a child, you either color in the lines, taking care and precision in your work, or you scribble, not caring, half-assing your life until you die.
"In a world where lines and borders are ignored, nothing is formed. There is no craft, only that impulse I mentioned before. You may see it, dear Logan, as intelligent to burn others for your benefit, or even amusement, but I promise you that I have never met a man with a weaker will than yours.
"Consider this. In the Final Destination match up that looms ever closer. What if, mid-match, you find that the pain is more than worth the World Title? What if you find that you'd rather do something more beneficial to yourself? Where will your fight be then? How can you expect to reach the top and grab that contract if you are too set in this need to work on instant-gratification alone.
"Sure, you've done a great deal in the past, but what does that mean now if your will, every fiber of your being, no longer think it is worth the fight?
"By existing, you disrupt the true flow of the system. You move let your own current sweep you away, sending your crashing against the herd that works against the push of the world. You don't care who you hit, and that by itself makes you unfit to live. You lower the standard we, as a society, set for ourselves. We look at you and we see the corpse, the never-was-alive thing we carry each day.
"You have let your intelligence go to waste by using it to rationalize every decision. Steering it away from the truth and into a reality you know does not fit. Your masochistic AND sadistic actions are an active reminder of your decadence, not only in the realm of desire, but in that of reasoning. To save the world from your further waste of air, it is my obligation to end your dwelling in this life, and send you to the next for your final judgement"
I could tell the buzz words of 'God' and 'Justice' were working its magic. In the mind's eye, the crowd saw this as something bigger than even the structure would suggest. It was not just a matter of law, this represented a cosmic struggle, one for balance. Whether or not they agreed with the thesis, they could feel its gravity.
"You have been found guilty. You are to be hanged until dead. May this rope choke your soul just as it chokes your body."
Again. I kick the lever. Again, engineering goes to work. Again, another body is left dangling in the air like a hat on a rack. No gasp from the audience this time. Good. It should never shock the second time, but reaffirm a theme in thought. I wanted them to feel the rhythm of the situation, to get lost in it. Forget, for a second that its all a play. I want them to shift their realities into the lie for at least a moment. To become the faceless mob we picture in ever mention of executions in those old history text books.
I move over a little ways to the left. Two down, four to go. Almost half way. It was Spencer's turn. Spencer Adams, one of the underdogs in this little match up of ours. Though, if your asked the audience, him and I both appeared to be underdogs in this match up, an appearance I hope to quickly rectify.
"Next is Spencer Adams," I pause and smile, a smile that they can't see. To them I was still the faceless hangman, "you have been accuse of the crime of not being enough. You view yourself a hero, do you not?"
Know the great thing about dummies is they can't argue. They can't get in the way of your words. They just sit there quietly and wait for it all to be over. If only people were more like dummies.
"You fight for what you consider to be the side of good? Well, if these proceedings have shown us anything so far, it is that it is not enough to merely be 'good' or to act as one believes to be 'good', but to make sure the world benefits from your existence, and unfortunately, you - in your entirety - are not enough. You scrape by, but you are simply a failing machine. Sputtering and sparking in the faint hope of work. You weigh down the rest of us as we work from day to day to make the world a fine place to live. You are saw dust on a raging fire in the hopes of putting it out.
"You refer to yourself as 'The Antidote' from time to time, but unfortunately it is only a name. You are the tumor ridden side of a brain that now has to shift all its processes over to the other side, making the task all that much harder with your rotting weight.
"Now, to you, with that rope around your neck, this may not sound like a crime. You may want to try to make a case that it isn't, but I assure you, this is as bad as anything I will mention on this stage today.
"This kind of punishment isn't just to act against those who attack society with its wrongs, but to show that mediocrity is nothing to aspire to. How you managed to make it into the Final Destination match at Fifteen is beyond me. It is my duty to put an end to it. To stop it before mediocrity can spread and rot this world from the inside out. I can only hope that as these people watch you hang, they will understand how important it is to strive, to rise above plain 'existing' and become something of greatness.
"Many politicians will claim it, but as you can see, it is only I, by going out into the world and doing what needs to be done, that can make this country great again. One cannot make a product better if he does not find the weak elements and crush them.
"I wish to put a stop to your kind! To make second best a thing of the past. To let men of true ability and virtue rise above the dust and raise the average to extraordinary.
"Do you see it, Mister Adams? Do you understand why it is important that I don't skip over any crime? That I must punish all justly? This isn't anything personal, how could it be? I am doing this for the good of the world. As a 'hero' you should be able to understand that. So, as you stand there, undoubtedly shaking in fear, find solace in the fact that I am ridding the world of your weakness. I am cutting out the tumors you have supplied, and if my work reaches the people it needs to, this world can become something so much more like God would want it to be.
"For these crimes, you are found guilty and will be hanged until dead. Maybe god have mercy on your soul."
I kick the lever with glee and the Spencer dummy drops beautifully until the rope provides the sudden stop. The audience was drawn in, helpless against the hypnotism of this grotesque act.
A new lever. A new dummy. This time Johnny Rabid. Oh, how I'll relish on this one. I hope he doesn't think I've forgotten when I was Head of Talent Relations and #BeachKrew had control of the companies, how he DEMANDED I met John Gable's needs, how I needed to 'do my job'. Then, of course, how last week we were teamed together. We all know how that went. This one was going to be fun.
"Johnny Rabid...you stupid toxic piece of shit. You have been accused of the crime of being a Beach Krew henchman, of working below your station, and of being a limey brit. Granted, I wouldn't hang someone for being British, but it definitely adds to the pleasure I take in this.
"See, unlike Mister Adams, you are a man of great ability. Unlike Orbit, you are a man who knows restraint. Unlike Logan, you are a man who knows how to work WELL with others. Unfortunately, it seems like all that is wasted as you spend your life in the shadow of others. You are a mogul, a man who has experienced and travel, but you play second fiddle. You show the world that one can have talent, but then not use it, wasting months just waiting.
"It reminds me of the tail of Seabiscuit, the horse trained to lose. It had the ability, and strength, but after years of being forced to play 'below' its abilities, you would constantly fail to break such a habit, even when it was pushed to win. Unfortunately, I don't think that you will have the same ending. I think its too deep in your blood now.
"Honestly, you could have been a world champion, but you let Wade take that spot, now instead you are fighting just for a chance at the title. Even if you did manage to make your way up the ladder and grab that contract, would you be able to push Wade out of the way to grab that gold?
"What kind of role model are you? See, there are so many other things you could be here for, but I wanted to bring out a particular point. That you people are damaging not just yourselves, but those who watch you. Not that you care, Mister Rabid, but if I didn't make an example out of your waste of talent, clearly displayed elsewhere, then this would be a waste. Frankly, you know what you've done to gain this spot, you know the horrible things in your soul that make it so you deserve to be here. When you hear your neck snap, it will all race through your head, but maybe if I bring it out into the open, you'll realize your inability to take what is yours is also one of them, and I cannot forgive that."
I wanted to tear him down. If he somehow heard what I said of him, it would be glorious. I wanted him to feel weak, have it implanted in his head that he would be the cause of his own failures. Not limitations, not someone else's ability, but his subconscious submissive nature. I said it because I wanted it to be true for him, that was the fun I was having with this. If I could kill him from the inside out, even if I didn't win, that would be a sufficient victory for me.
"You have been found guilty. You will be hanged until dead. Enjoy serving in hell, you british fuck."
KICK, WHAM, DEAD PUPPET! A thrill shot through me. This was power, this was god-like. I wasn't just a man on a stage, I was something more. Maybe this is what preachers and televangelists felt. Maybe this was why they screamed at the top of their lungs week in and week out. If you speak the 'word of the lord' you feel a bit like the lord. You can look over all of creation, praising and condemning as you see fit.
It was Bonnie Blues turn. Oh, poor Bonnie Blue. In setting this all up, I had almost forgotten about her, even despite her incredibly strangeness in the world, that anomaly that was her being wasn't enough to keep my interested. She was there, but only so there before I lost interest. Thankfully she replied to a tweet I put out earlier this week, reminding me that she existed, to whatever extent that meant.
"Bonnie Blue, you have been charged with the crime...of having no soul. Not in the sense of blues and jazz artists. You are an abomination. A disgusting clone. You are not human, you are merely a copy, a faint illusion.
"As such, you are a walking representation of humanities failure to picture itself as anything more than a shallow image of itself. You pretend to be just like us, even though you are not one of us. I feel more when I look at a dog, an animal that eats its own shit and vomit. A dog is a natural being, it belongs in the scheme of the universe. A dog is a part of creation. You sit behind a veil of sorts.
"How does your ill-defined role in life's master plan put you up here on this day you might ask? Simply put, you everything a human should fight against. You are an illusion. You are a mask on life."
I was pulling all these thoughts out of my ass. It was a faint emotional connection, to put Bonnie Blue in comparison with dishonesty, but boy did I ride that train to the station.
"If we wish to be honest with ourselves in society, then we need to cast away everything that resembles dishonesty. We need to destroy the reminders of how things aren't as they seem, that we should work, not for our own means which we hide, but for the honest better living of our entire society.
"How can I believe that you see as I see? Think as I think? How do I know you aren't like a computer, without ideas of your own, reacting only as you've been programmed to. Now, I can't claim to know all the details, but thats what scares me. Its what I don't know. All I know is you aren't human, but an echo of a human, a copy. We in OUR society must not strive to reach others, but instead to be ABOVE others. We must be our OWN men, to be strong, to never settle for a lesser cause."
Again, a very loose argument pulled by an emotional connection, and I loved it. I wonder if the crowd noticed that this last bit contradicted the Steve Orbit portion where I said the world needed these little people to be where they are at? Oh, how I loved this portion of my job, how it revealed so much about the audience. Their stupidity, their inability to connect the dots. How they just coast from one event to another. How I could probably just sit here, even make up facts about Bonnie, and they wouldn't bat an eye.
"For your crimes again humanity, you are to be HANGED UNTIL DEAD!"
Kick. Open. Swinging like it was on a jungle-gym. One more to go.
I paused for a moment, looking at the last standing dummy marked "Gravedigger". How I didn't want this to end. How I took pleasure with every movement, knowing that it was all eyes on me, that it was my performance they wanted to see. I was the star, just like it should have been all those years ago when I signed up to join this wretched company. I should have been on top from the word go, but obstacle after obstacle has gotten into my way. No more, this was my turn, my time. This egregious mistake was to be corrected, and when I won the Final Destination match, I would go on and win that World title. It would finally be mine. No more chasing.
I stepped before the last dummy. The crowd on the edge for their seat. They had been silent almost this entire time, moving along with me in this story, witnessing each movement as if it all added up to one grand statement. They were drawn in like sheep, ready to witness the next hanging. They wanted it. Maybe they didn't agree with it, but they wanted to see it. They wanted to see the end of this.
"Gravedigger!" I exclaimed, as my voice died away, you could almost hear a pin drop. I'm sure if I looked closer, I could see a mouth or two licking its lips with anticipation, "you have been accused of the crime of being.........ooooooooold. Hanged until dead. Enjoy your death." I kicked the last lever and then, in its natural end, Gravedigger hanged beside the rest.
"Now, as I'm sure you've noticed. Beyond the obvious connection of their crimes, or the mere fact that they are up here, I'm sure you've noticed one more common denominator these individuals had in common."
I paused, again no one responded, I had these fools under my thumb.
"They are all booked to participate, as I've mentioned, in The ever talked about Final Destination match at WCF's coming pay-per-view Fifteen...but, I wonder, about the last competitor? Aren't there seven wrestlers in that match up? Why are there only six bodies currently dangling? Is it possible I overlooked him?"
If physics did not limit me, my grin would have been three miles wide. I reached up, had a firm hold of the hangman's hood over my head, and quickly yanked it off, revealing my glistening face to the crowd. I laughed a deep and hearty laugh.
"Of course not! While other's may have, the only reason I am not a participant in this macabre swing set is for the mere fact that I am the saving grace! I have the strength, the intelligence, the wherewithal, the talent, and the drive to win in order to set a new standard.
"For too long WCF has settled for less, for louder, but not better, men. This six individuals represent the disease that plagues the company every day. I saw it in my position as an official for the company, and now again as a competitor. These six individuals are the perfect example of what ruins this sport, what makes it less than the amazing thing I loved when I was growing up.
"Look at them. Do they look like they deserve to be World Champion? No. So, why do you people keep asking for them to be? You saw Steve Orbit and you were all ready to watch him trample the competition to get the gold back.
"I've been saying FOR YEARS! I am the rightful champion. I am the standard that the company should be put to, and at Final Destination I am going to take every prediction, every time I was over looked, and shove it straight up the world's ass. Never again will I be looked at as anything less than a contender. I am the air of greatness that will follow every conversation about this company. More than a wrestler, I will be a legend, a myth, a person who will live far beyond my own death by being the pebble in the water that will ripple centuries from now.
"Will you ignore me then? Will you still continue to look to this lesser beings? Will you disregard what you know to be true just because they make you feel better? Take some responsibility for once in your life and choose the best answer, the one actually standing right in front of you. Pick to stand behind 'God Given Greatness' Benjamin Atreyu.
"I'm not looking for your approval. That is far from the point, I will move on regardless. This is for YOUR benefit. I am giving you an opportunity. Don't be stuck at the gallows, don't worship the dying and soon-to-be-dead. Stick with those who keep their head out of from the noose, because when that match up, all of us will climb up, but only one will get the chance to climb back down."
-.-.-
Sitting in the same care as Michael Easton took all of my resolve. I had the hangman hood sitting next to me in the back seat as he sat up front, driving.
"Pretty clever little act your put together," Michael said, "A nice grand gesture."
"Sure," I refused him the satisfaction of taking his compliment with humility.
"See, what I found real fun was that you weren't really talking about them, were you?"
"Don't know what you are referring to."
"Oh, come on, Benjyboy," he grinned as he looked into the rear view mirror, "all that talk about betrayal, weakness, disgust, lies, and being unable to trust. Sure, it does apply to them, and you did personalize it for each and every one of them, but don't think I'm blind."
"..."
"I'm not going to hold anything against you for hating me," he put his eyes back on the road, "I did trick you, but look at it this way, I'm not so much blackmailing you as forcing you to pay for my offered services. The motivation just happens to be a corpse in the middle of a forest."
"We don't have to talk to each other, you know." I replied with spite.
"But I like talking to you, Benjyboy," he hardly registered it, "you are a man of intelligence. Just because I tricked you doesn't make you dumb. You didn't have all the information, and I was just using that to my advantage. I still plan on doing what I promised, there just happens to be a new kink in our relationship."
"Why help? Why not just enjoy your victory?"
"Because offering my help allows me to keep close to you. Letting me watch you squirm as you balance myself, your guilt, and wrestling in a spectacular act of nimbleness. No way would I be able to enjoy that from a distance. Due to your obligation to keep my quiet, you wouldn't dare turn me away. Hell, look at your career, I've made you important again."
"Please, stop talking," I looked out the window, trying to ignore him, trying to focus on how well the hangings went.
"Don't be that way," I hated it when he said that, "we have so much to talk about. Like what will happen if you win. Where do we go from there?"
"I go and win the World title, as simple as that."
"Oh, Benjy," Easton shook his head, "haven't you learned it can't be as simple as that? Life is hardly as simple as just going in and winning. What have I been telling you for the last couple of weeks? No, you just can't go in and win the World Title. Sure, physically you can, but then what does it mean? You have to make it mean something, bring some sort of power with it. Anyone can just...win it...but then those people get forgotten.
"You have to be more than that. You have to be a sort of beacon. Not one of hope. Definitely not, but a sort of 'welcome to my kingdom' type deal. If people step within one mile of you, they should no. It should be without question why you are holding that title when you hold it."
"We'll talk about it later," I didn't want to say it, but I would say anything just to get him to shut up. Everything could have been golden, but I saw him it would have been like a giant shit stain on my throne. He made me not want to win. He made me want to give up and disappear. He made me want to reenact every damaging and reckless event that had ever occurred in my life. I wanted to ruin every plan he had by ruining myself so his photos wouldn't mean anything to me. To be so care-free that the sentencing putting me in jail or the electric chair wouldn't even register enough to stir up electricity in the brain. I want to kill his plan more than I wanted that World Title, and damn did I want that belt.
"Now, later, what does it change?"
"It changes the time, which is good enough."
"The more time we spend planning, the more we can get done."
"I've gotten plenty done over my lifetime. This can wait a little bit."
"You haven't gotten nearly enough done in your life. Hence why I came to you in the first place. You may think that all the accomplishments that make up your body of work is something, but you're lying to yourself worse than I ever lied to you."
"What if I lose, hmm? Then all that planning will be for nothing." I wanted to use any argument I could.
"If you lose, we have to start from the ground-up anyways. There is no point of thinking about losing, because then we are on space zero."
"Goddamn it, will you just shut the fuck up?!" I yelled, "I don't care. I just don't. There is nothing in this world I hate more right now than the sound of your voice. I've listened to people chew with their mouth open and I've wanted to slit their throats. The buzzing of flies on a hot summer's day makes me want to burn down whole buildings. The slur of a toothless slacked-jaw yokel makes me want to commit mass homicide. But none o it, NOT A SINGLE BIT OF IT, comes even close to doing the damage your voice does anytime you open your mouth. It's a sickness, it really is, to hate something this much. I wish I could tear this hate out of my brain and throw it away, but I can't, so I'm stuck living in a life where I can't stand you but can't seem to get rid of you, leaving me in a perpetual hell. So, if you would grant me one pleasure in your endless torture, just shut the fuck up for a little bit, because if you don't, I'm going to jump forward, jerk that wheel out of your hands and drive us off of a bridge."
It didn't feel even a little good to tear into him. There was not a single ounce of joy in it, and to me that was the worst victory of all. He robbed me of my ability to yell at him with some satisfaction. I was so miserable, so lost in this world that it just felt like hot air wafting into my body. No release, I was without hope. He was truly a bastard, the last surviving member of a race that absolutely deserved to be called by that title. He was my cancer, my tumor, the thing slowly killing me, and what was I supposed to do.
He just looked back in the mirror with that smile. That shitty smile. That smile that said 'nothing is okay', 'you will never be alright', 'you will die alone'. Even if he disappeared today, that smile would be planted firmly in every nightmare I had until I died. He was happy with himself, too happy. It was like he was testing my will, draining me of everything I was made of to see what was left, trying to find some center where only hate and despair lived.
And all I could do was let him have his fun.
