Ring of Rajah Episode #5: Ab Aeterno

[mth]

"Eeeeeaaahhyeah, about that, Biff...
...mm yes, you can call me matt, you can call me mth...as long as your boat is floating.
Because all that matters, all that I really need to be called is one simple thing:
RoR Champion.
Because the Jackalope's no longer Galactic and I left the boogeymanning to chumps like the Jacket Jackoffs.
I'm out of the closet, heh.
See, no, Foxo, you're a bit off the mark. You just got in, fresh off your landing here, I see, and you haven't quite gotten the full skinny.
This mth. This matt even. This me. This whatever I am.
Not what you knew. Not what you think.
Something else entirely.
So no, my good man, I'm not a meme and I'm no monster.
I am but one thing and one thing alone:
The Champion.
The rest just fades...just melts...just blends.
So mmm, don't count your chickens 'cuz brother, they're far from hatchin'.
You've danced with fragments and tangled with parts but not the whole.
Dick Whelan may have killed matt but resurrection...well, resurrection can do some fascinating mind-bending things.
We're all here and we're all very much alive and lovin' it.
All systems go.
Out of the shadows and into the spotlight.
And the spotlight...oh the spotlight, she shines so bright.
So come on in and see if you burn.
I'll bring the crazy.
They say...they seem to think...I always do but ah, there's that fine line between genius and madness.
So, seeing as I'll be partnering with Madness, that leaves the obvious alternative for your Painted Prince. Heh.
And oh hey look at that, my main Mad man is a champ to boot. Groovy.
And you...
...you bring Glitterbritches.
See what that does for you.
And while we're out there, Bibbity Fibbity, I will do my damnedest to get us reacquainted.
Give you a solid formal introduction to just who and/or what I am at this point.
Make sure all those thoughts of some kooky night-dwelling spook-monkey are a thing of the past...
...and that the real fear...the real respect...comes from somewhere true, somewhere deep...somewhere in the spotlight."

[Bloodied Fox]

Fox paces back and forth, the soft ~click~ ~woomph~ of a lighter igniting heard again and again as he toys with one in his hands, accompanied by a chuckle

Well, they always did say it's better to burn out than to fade away...

Okay Matty, we'll play it your way. You say you aren't the meme, the monster or the man, just the champion?

Then what were you before the belt?

What will you be after?

The gold is the goal, but it is not the entirety, merely the first step. Something has to come after. The world has witnessed what I can do with it in my grasp, but what about you? Am I supposed to believe that you're just going to hold onto it so you can be the poster boy for the company? I refuse to entertain that notion, that insultingly limited scope, coming from you of all people. There's something else, something the light hides.

You want me to step inside to find out, then that's where I'm headed. Too focused to be blinded, too stubborn to burn.

End Transmission

[The Diamond]

The Road Ahead


Liverpool, England

A car pulls up in the car park at the echo arena in Liverpool. Dominic ‘The Diamond’ Dust steps out and is crowded by cameramen.

“Wow guys, hey I know your all here to see me, I know I’ve been quiet recently but please I’m here now.”

The cameramen back away from Dominic a little bit. Dominic walks out through the doors and down the corridor where he is met by Michelle.

“Dominic I have been ringing and ringing, where have you been?”

Dominic smiles at her and gives her a hug.

“Listen I’m just off to the ring to give a little speech about our friend Jonathan Caito, I will be back soon.”

Dominic walks away from Michelle and enters the empty arena. Dominic walks down the ramp and enters the ring.

“So Jonathan Caito, what did you think I was going to leave it like that? What the man who defied the odds at Point Of No Return? No see I’m here to stay, yes I’ve been quiet, I’ve had some important issues to attend. So Jonny you been running your mouth I see, you’ve been questioning what I’ve done in this business and that I’m the real failure.”

“Jonny, you seem to have forgotten what happened to you at Point of No Return, you failed to grab that championship, you failed the ROR universe Jonathan Caito, see I defeated 2 of the toughest sons of bitches your likely to meet in this ring, I overcame the odds Jonathan, whereas you failed to grab that prize! You failed to be the man you said you’d become, Jonathan I know you’re the failure, Jonathan Caito your wife is ashamed of you and do you know why?”

Dominic smiles as the lights dim down and the spotlight emerges over him.

“This could be your last time, this could be the end for you Jonathan Caito. The last shot for Caito, see the road get’s narrower and narrower for you, as for me the road ahead is a long one, it’s not my last chance, my god it’s just beginning Caito, Jonny boy, things are going to take a turn for the worse when we collide I can guarantee you will not walk out the same man.”

Dominic replays the clip on the screen when mth grabbed the championship.

“Oh Caito what have you done, you lost the prize you desired to mth and then you stand there in disbelief, you can’t believe it can you? You got beaten by a freak, Jonathan Caito you seem a little disheartened by everything that has gone on so far in ROR, maybe Caito this isn’t the time for you. Jonathan you look into Rippers eyes and you see doubt, you see the end is near for you. Jonny it’s my destiny to be champion and I will be champion make no mistake about that.”

Dominic laughs at Mth grabbing the title as Jonathan Caito keeps swinging his punches.

“Jonathan you’re the failure, you the one I was wanting to see with the belt around your waist, but now your pathetic, now your just a failed washed up has-been, see Caito I’m going to destroy you in our match, I’m going to destroy your entire existence, I will make sure your dealt with.”

Dominic reaches into his pocket and pulls out a deck of cards.

“LUCK? No it’s not luck Caito, it’s just destiny my friend.”

Dominic puts the deck back into his pocket and walks closer to the camera.

“Jonny, I saw the look in your eyes when mth beat you, you stood bewildered by the fact you lost, Jonny now what do you see at night? Mth standing over you holding that belt high up in the air? Closest you’ll ever get to it Caito, your time’s running out Jonathan. Soon Jonny it will be game over for you.”

Dominic leaves the ring and walks up the ramp, he replays mth grabbing the championship belt once more.

“Mth, I see the joker has tricked his way to the top again, Myth I believe me and you have unfinished business, do we not?”

Dominic leaves through the entrance way. The camera’s are following Dominic again, Dominic get’s into his car and throws the deck of cards out of the window.

“Caito I’m hoping you come back with a fine speech, I’m looking forward but for now Caito I bid you………………..farewell.”

Dominic drives off out of the arena car park. Michelle runs out to the car park with an angry look on her face.

Fade To Darkness

[Rip]

The Ripper is alone in the gym.

Bruce Dickinson plays over the speakers, pretty damn loud.

Rip sits on a bench, he stares at an old school leg press machine.

Old black cast weights rest on top of it, two hefty dumbells sit ontop of them.

In total the weight is around 320lbs.

Less than Cragzman.

More than a man with a re-built knee should even consider lifting.

Much more.

The big man reaches down and raises a dumb-bell in his right arm, effortless, smooth.

His eyes never waver.

He transfers the weight to his left arm, repeats.

Eyes locked.

The 'bell makes its return journey, but does not rise.

The Ripper stops.

Lowers the weight back to the floor.

With great care he stands, reaches down and tightens the straps around his knee.

Eyes never moving.

Bollocks to it.

He steps towards the press as the feed goes dark...

[mth]

"Aahhh, look at you! You clever crafty sly bastard!
I like it, I like what you've done here, I like that you are a thinking man. You listen, you ponder, and you respond...you ask the tough questions...the good questions.
It's like...it's like...you actually care, Bee-Eff.
It's like you actually give a damn and you know what?
I like that.
I like that a lot.
That's nice.
Because there was this one guy, oh man, this one guy...with a hood...and some lights...this toolbox seemed too busy fiddling with his battery pack (if you know what I mean) to really take it in...grasp it, you know? And really do anything more than go, "Oh hey, that's mth, he's talkin', he's gigglin', he's havin' a good time with his facepaint and his whatnot."
And that was that.
And well....and well, that didn't do him many favors, heh.
No, it would seem that led to...ah, what was it?
Ah, yesssssss...yes, yes yes....to me, uh, winning the RoR Championship.
So....
...so it's nice, Foxo. It's nice and I...I appreciate it.
And thus and therefore and because of such and all that...
...your questions get answers.
Before I was Champion I was a champion waiting to happen.
Just like anyone who doesn't have what I've got now, we're all on the same road to the same destination.
Sure sure, some of us...some of us like to say otherwise, say we've got other intents, other purposes...hurting folks, making cash-money-dollar-bills, bangin' hot lady-folk, etc. and so on.
But c'mon on now.
C'mon.
This.
This big fat shiny gold glory I've got here...
...this is why we dance this dance.
So this.
This is what I am.
And before this...
...before this I was on my way to this.

So...question the second: what comes after?
I hold the gold. What am I gonna do with it?
Fox, I've jabbered at great length about that before you stepped through the door.
Just a little thing called The Day of the Jackalope...
...which I might add, has come and is upon us (hallelujah and amen!).
But uh...I understand...I get it, you were out in the dark...you were out there in the shadowy blackness and now...just now, you've stepped into the light and here you are, ready and willing to dive into the mix but you're not...you're not in the loop.
Well let me loop you, ol' chum.
See, Fox, out there...out there, in the crowd and beyond the walls...on the other side of the TV screen...out there in the world...
...are my people.
Thousands of them.
They love me. They hate me. They worship me. They despise me.
I am their god, their devil, their muse, their lust, their hero, their villain, their all.
They revel in me.
And I revel in it.
Are you following me thus far?
Sorry, it's just...I'm used to talking to the guy wearing a hood to hide his identity which is a t-shirt on his face and his buddy that thinks with his wang so I'm used to having to dumb it down and draw a few diagrams.
Right, well, even then I should think it might be a bit clearer what this...what being Champion...might mean.
To me.
To them.
But oh, you...you are a thinking man, a sharp-minded son of a bitch...you know that I'm not just here to hold this thing for photo-ops.
And I'm not just here to put a smiles on some and scowls on others.
No, you know...oh you, you know...you know better.
You know deeper.
Perhaps darker.
There might be a cat in a bag somewhere.
Maybe.
Mm yesss, maybe, maybe The Painted Prince is planning a bit of the old Pandemonium, hmm?
Ah yes, but who can know for sure?
Oh.
Oh, I suppose I might.
Heh.
But ah, bridges to be crossed when happened upon, right?
No, now, now let's focus on a couple of more important fish what need frying:
You and I, Fox.
First with the madman and the pretty boy doing the tag tango.
'Twill be a hoot.
And in time...in time...we dance.
Let's see...let's see what happens then, hm?
You might not burn, Fox...you are one of the few I know can handle the heat...cannot be blinded by the light...
...but need I repeat myself with the bones and the breaking and the puddle of goo?
I told Jon Caito I am the best wrestler walking the planet.
He did not agree.
Then I beat him.
And I won this.
And I am.
Feel free to disagree.
Feel free to come for me.
Feel free to step into the spotlight.
Feel free to try to turn my Day into blackest night.
Feel free...
...to fail."

[Bloodied Fox]

Oh don't worry, no repetition is necessary. Those first two matches were enough to give me the gist of just how much it's going to take to put you down without you ever having to say a word. Likewise, I'd like to think you understand from those past meetings that I am quite capable of doing those things.

Capable and oh so willing.

But I think you're selling me short in that little speech you just made, talking about how we're all on "the same road to the same destination". For all you're insistence on my listening, you don't seem to have acted in kind. From the days of AoL onwards, I've made it clear that the gold is not an end, but a means. It is the facilitator of salvation for the company, for the industry. The champion has the power and with that power you can reshape things. Turn that spotlight up brighter and hotter, Matt, and you could burn out the impurities and forge something so much stronger. I was on the way there in Age of Legends, only for the ground to crumble away beneath me. I ran out of time before I ran out of strength. I've never been a champion, or a champion in waiting; I've been a god.

And now so are you.

You've said so yourself: you feed off of their belief in you, be it love or hate. It flows into you, making you what you are. What other name is there for something like that? Just as I have fed on their bloodlust to become the God Death, so have you fed on their obsession with your unorthodoxy to become the God Chaos. Now our paths are set to collide, a war in the heavens. Powers and plans will be tested against each other, and in the end you will be brought face to face with inescapable fact...

On every day, the sun must set.

End Transmission.

[Newf]

"We all have our ways of coping. This job demands it."

Once more in the office, this time with T sat on the couch, drink in hand.

"You have your drinking, evidently. I'm starting to see its benefit," he admits with a tip of his glass.

"Subconsciously some of us have further defense mechanisms."

"I have a tendency to compartmentalize," he confesses as he reclines on the sofa with a mix of mockery and honesty, "my life on the road and off it, in the ring and out of it, professional and personal... they've very separate. I tend to see things in black and white, good and bad, right and wrong. As an off-shoot of that, I suppose, I tend to keep very few acquaintances and even fewer friends."

"It's for that reason, among others behaviours I've observed," his tone growing serious as he rises from the couch, "that I see one of your defense mechanisms."

"Pseudologia fantastica.

"In layman's terms, you're a pathological liar.

"Not surprising, you've probably been lying your entire life.

"At first to yourself, refusing to believe you had something to hide. Then, once you admitted you had something to hide from others, you lived your life as one big lie until you finally cracked. I don't blame you, it must be hard to be so open in such a boy's club and that probably took a lot of courage.

"But the lying didn't stop there, did it? You'd grown accustomed to it."

He begins to pace the office.

"You see Freud postulated that the repression of certain emotions could lead to all sorts of neuroses. Where before you lied to hide who you were, you began to lie to excuse who you'd become. You began to act out in a manner of extreme aggression and undeserved anger, perhaps to compensate for your perceived short-comings, so the boys wouldn't give you such a hard time. And it's so easy to get away with in your profession, isn't it?

"Fan jumps the line at a signing? Rough him up, he deserved it. Meanwhile you turn a blind eye to the fact that that fan was a father just trying to get an autograph for his little boy, because the lie you've created in your head makes you the hero and him the villain, and it's a process you've repeated again and again.

"Now, I'm not going to say whether or not this buxom blonde did or didn't exist, but what I am going to question is the extent of your conversation with her. What you claim she confided is nothing that former colleagues, past opponents or any disenfranchised fan might tell you. Certainly not 'inside info' and certainly no different from your pre-existing opinion of me.

"But it feels good to be justified, doesn't it? It feels good to have a second opinion. It feels good to be validated. It feels good to have a friend.

"It feels good to feel right after you've felt wrong for so long. But deep down inside you know the truth."

With this he takes his usual seat and leans in for the cliché.

"... and how does that make you feel?"

[mth]

"Yessssssss....
....yes, this. This is what I want.
This is what I need.
This...this is the Day.

See, Fox...after AoL closed its doors I drifted off into the blackness.
I was somewhere in the shadows, somewhere in the darkness...wrapped up, internalized, inside myself.
Tossing about and drowning in contemplation, reflection, doubt, scheming...caught in a twisting maze, a sticky web...
...a jester, a joke, a trickster, a boogeyman, a gimmick.
For so long...this...this was my home. My comfort zone.
The night was my playground.
But...in truth...it was my security blanket.
But then...then they reached in...
...they reached in and they grabbed hold.
I could feel this heavyweight hanging around my neck...
...and I could feel their heartbeat bring me back...back...again.
I left the night.
I shed the shadows.
I stepped into the light.
My light.
The spotlight. My spotlight.
It had always been there, yes...but now, now I became aware.
Revelation. Epiphany. Enlightenment.
Perhaps.
Perhaps simply...reality.
No more drifting in the murky uncertainty of fables and myths.
No...no, now was sure footing, locked in the hot embrace of blinding reality.
Reality...
...reality about who and what I am.
I thought...I thought Dick had killed him.
Had killed me.
But I cannot die.
And neither can I.
WE cannot die.
We are what I am.
I am us.
Man. Athlete. Artist. Art.
And yes, Fox, yes on the nose...
...god.
Because with my eyes open and that spotlight shining bright...it was reality.
And I embraced...I embrace...it.

Thus came the Dawn.
Those in darkness cried out for my return.
And I rode on the beams of morning.
And I made promise that the Day...my Day...was coming.
My Day is now.

Let me...let me tell you, Fox, just a little bit about The Day of the Jackalope.
It is when The Jackalope and the gold are one.
And it is when my spotlight burns its brightest.
And I stand, arms open wide...
...none shall be turned away.
Let them come.
Let them accept my Gift. My Grace.
You...You, Bloodied Fox, shall be the first.
You said the gold is not an end but a means and I won't argue.
While I said we are all on the same road to this destination I didn't say it was the end of the road, the final destination...
...it's not for you, it's not for me.
It is the beginning of my Day.
The spark that lights the fire.
You mention the road crumbling beneath you...but Fox, Fox the mountain fell as I stood on its peak.
You were always a grounded god but I...I fell from heaven.
But now I stand...firm footed in my spotlight...firm footed at the summit.
And if the mountain stands stable...
...then it is I who must be brought down.
The sun must set?
It must be...brought down, yes?
Yessssss, yes for the day to end...for the day to end, bring it down...bring me down.
Bang on, Foxo, bang on.
And there...
...there you are.
A god.
Fit to challenge a god.
This.
This is it.
This is the Day.
This is the Day in simplest form.
This is mth, champion, standing in his spotlight, at the ready, tense for battle...
....and this is challenger rising up, hungry, focused, stepping into that spotlight, ready to rip the sun out of the goddamn sky.
Heh.
But Fox...
...Fox the Day is young.
And you are only the first.
'Capable and oh so willing'.
Terrific.
That's what I want them all to be.
That's what this is all about.
Welcome to the spotlight.
Welcome to the mountain top.
Welcome to The Day of the Jackalope."

[Devlin]

Devlin is watching the RoR promos on television, in his hand is a box about the size of a small radio, it has two lights on the top, one red, one green.

As T begins to speak Devlin pauses the promo.

Hey T-Bag, nice of you to join us again, just watched your latest, what's the word?

Consultation?

Examination?

Speech?

Monologue?

Piece of crap?

Whatever, I thought I'd show you something.

This here in my hand is a wonderful invention, designed for parents, police officers, journalists, politicians, oh and people who have to listen to you.

I got it from a mate who works on the 'Jeremy Kyle' Show, you may have heard of it? From the way you talk I'd guess you have it on permenant loop 24/7.

Anyhow watch what happens when I let you talk.

Devlin unpauses the clip.

As T talks the red light flashes, before long the small box is beeping.

See that T-Bag?

Know what this is?

It's a Bull-Shit detector, patent pending.

This is the second one I got, see you spout so much the first one blew up.

You want to know why I do this job?

Because I like punching arseholes like you in the face.

Simple really.

No deep psco-babble crap, no hidden messages, no bull.

I just don't like people who talk like they're special and think they have all the answers.

I don't like people who tread on others, I don't like people who try and hide who they are, who play games.

No real reason T-Bag, they just piss me off.

So you feel free to spout your shite, I'll just nod and smile, then when you finally shut the fuck up I'll punch you.

Very hard.

In the face.

And I'm pretty sure Freud would have something to say about that.

[Caito]

Let me ask you a question Dominic.

The wind rips and swirls around Jonathan, as he stands among the heathers of a field just outside of Shotley Bridge. The wind is strong enough that every once in a while, you can hear the deep sounds try to overtake the microphone. The wind also continually shifts the black kilt that Caito is wearing, his outfit complete with combat boots, and a deep red hoodie, pulled up over his head.

Minus the long hair, it is a look we have seen many time from Jonathan “Fuckin’”Caito.

Are you ever going to be more than a one trick pony?

Here is why I ask. You have mentioned, numerous times really, how you defy the odds, how you overcome the fact that everyone in the locker room hates you and wants to shut you up, because you dare say that it is your destiny to win and become the Ring of Rajah championship.

But I think you are mistaken, and please, if you will, allow me to shed a little light into your world.

They, we, don’t dislike you because we are trying to snuff out your destiny.

We don’t like you because you both bore the hell out of us and make us want to make ourselves go deaf.

I am not sure how many of us are going to have to tell you how much you sound like the little crybaby in the corner, yelling and screaming, just hoping that someone takes him seriously. But I guarantee you it will be said every single time you face someone new, because that there, that’s your gimmick. That is your thing.

Being a pretentious, delusional little boy among us men, trying to wrestle because you got oh so bored and that this would liven up your day.

Let me explain to you about us dinosaurs.

We eat, we drink, we sweat, we bleed, we live and we die for this business, for this industry.

For OUR R-Feds.

Every time one fed dies, we join the next, full well knowing that maybe it won’t last longer than the last, but we have nowhere else to go.

We are a misfit group, not fully accepted anywhere else in this world, our own little niche. Our own little brotherhood. And as we have grown with each other, our love/hate relationship with each person in here evolves with it.

For years, I have hated and despised everything that the Catch 22 stood for. Everything that they were. The only member of that faction that I ever had any cohesiveness was with Dazz, and it lasted a whole two shows in the R-Fed, before I pinned him in a four corners match and he questioned my choice of what to do as the victor of that particular encounter.

I hated Shirt Ninja most of all. And by all rights, he hated me right back. I might not have been number one on his Ninjistic list, but I probably wasn’t far off. So looking back, it made sense that Bob was so jaded against me, so very confident and stubborn that I could not possibly be the man I told him and everyone else I had become.

I personally wonder what he believes now.

Evolution, Dominic. Evolution.

Like the dinosaurs.

And one more thing about this particular “dinosaur”

I am 27 years old, and in the best shape of my life.

That is why I was able to defeat and retire Rip, a man who left you lying in a pool of your own blood on a Land Rover.

That is why while you had to crawl and scratch your way to survive against Devlin and Bell….ok mostly Devlin, I was featured in the main event, closer to the gold then you will EVER be.

And that is why you cannot beat me.

It is not your destiny, it is not the path that you are fated to walk on.

I am simply better.

But let’s get back to my original point Dominic. The real reason I wanted to reach out to you tonight.

Do me a favor and do or say something interesting.

See, here is really where the meat of any war of words seems to come with you, and this is why I am already bored, after only listening to you babble on twice.

Because all you do Dominic, is talk about the same exact shit, every single fuckin’ time.

Christ, you’re gonna put us all to sleep, unless of course that is the way you actually want to win matches.

I have always stated that mth has his opponents beat before they hit the ring because he gets inside their heads and pulls his string, just enough to make you wonder what beat you, the match, or the war before the match.

You, on the other hand, basically have us sleepwalking down the ramp.

Fortunately, our entrance music is pretty damn loud.

For example, I present to you Dominic “The Diamond” Dust’s first recorded promos.

Jonathan, you’re a failure, I did my part, I was counting on you, you’re a failure, you’re like Rip, I bet your wife is ashamed of you, you’re a failure.

So I respond, and believe me, I wanted to elicit a response from you, I wanted to see how you would respond by reminding you of your own failures, of your own hardships.

I wanted to evoke some sort of emotion, or conflict.

And what did I get?

Jonathan, you’re a failure, I did my part, I was counting on you, you’re a failure, you’re like Rip, I bet your wife is ashamed of you, you’re a failure.

Jesus Christ, you’re a broken fuckin’ record.

Do you know why I challenged you to this match Dominic? The real reason? Because let us face it, it is not because I consider you a challenge, it is not because I want to move up in the pecking order, because challenging you is actually a step down for me.

I wanted to face you, to see what you can do, if you could engage me, if you could give me a reason to care.

And so far, you have just been the same little boy, in the corner, screaming loudly like a broken record.

So I tell you what, do me a favor. Go back, and before you light up our screens again with this single message, Jonathan, you’re a failure, I did my part, I was counting on you, you’re a failure, you’re like Rip, I bet your wife is ashamed of you, you’re a failure, give it some thought.

Sit down, think about what you really want to say. Try to engage me, try to cause some actual conflict.

Make me interested, make me give a damn about you. Give me a reason to actually give a shit about your existence.

Because right now, all I need to know about you, you tell me in your first promo, and then repeat it the rest of them.

And I don’t care.

Give me something to make me think, a reason to take you seriously.

Because otherwise, you are wasting my time.