Triumvirate

[kaster]

A full moon. The clouds cover up the bright, glowing spot among the stars. A graveyard comes into view. Dead trees and twisted shrubs surround the rusted gates of the cemetery. Numerous gravestones are scattered across the dirt. The camera focuses in on the center of the graveyard, where a grave seems to have been dug out. A mound of dirt resides off to the side, with the pile slowly growing as more bits of dirt are tossed onto the top. After a moment, the sound of a shovel scraping against dirt ceases and the mound stops growing. A shovel is tossed up in the air and out of the grave. A gloved hand rises out of the hole, with specks of dried dirt tumbling off of it. The hand reaches for the nearby ground, gripping it before a second hand follows.

A hooded figure emerges out of the grave, carrying a dirty garbage bag. They pull off the hood, revealing…

“A failure. This is what happens to the past. Forgotten. Lost. Buried.”

Caleb Cannin looks down at the garbage bag before holding it up for the camera. He drops it down at his feet.

“What I do… I do it for the Legion. I do it for Roberto Verona. Hell, you could even say I do it for myself. But how I do it is a different story entirely. I could stand here and lay out all my triumphs and successes since joining the Imperial Wrestling Federation. I could. But I think everyone gets the idea by now. I have clawed my way up the totem pole by any means necessary. Every guy that was on top of the food chain was always looking down on me. And now that I’m here? People say I don’t deserve it. That I have somehow, despite selling out arenas every time I appear and creating massive amounts of buzz, taken an undeserved golden ticket. I assure you, if any of you were in my position, you would not hesitate to take the opportunity. But please, take your moral high ground while you scrap about on the undercards. I am stepping closer to the World Championship and I have earned it every step of the way. Roberto Verona has granted me the avenue in which I will create a beautiful legacy. I will dethrone Pax Stormcrow and finally… finally take my place at the top.”

He hunkers down next to the bag. His hand reaches in and pulls out a leather jacket. It appears to be old and musty, with noticeable wear and tear all around it. He flips the back of the jacket around to face the camera, with the faded letters reading “SEE THE FUTURE” on it.

“This is a symbol of my past. Ironic, isn’t it? We leave everything in the past, only looking back on it when we want to. But not necessarily when we need to. I use my past as fuel to light the way forward. I use it as a beacon to see the vision. Where my mistakes fall, a lesson rises. And the lesson, for this upcoming Sacrifice, is to work with the enemy.”

Placing the jacket on top of the garbage bag, he rises to a stance and smirks. The moon seems to give power to his shadow, making it appear larger and more intimidating.

“As much as I despise Allen Chaney, I can admire his tenacity. The willingness to keep fighting despite the odds against him. I can almost see why the people are such fans of him. He represents the common man, the person that wants to rise against a power higher than them. Even though I have ruthlessly attacked Chaney in the name of Verona, perhaps he will let bygones be bygones. After all, a main event spot on Sacrifice is no laughing matter. As for your friend… is he on some sort of list or is his face just like that? Nevermind, that is not what we’re here to talk about. Even though a team such as ours looks like a complete mismatch on paper, I truly believe we all have at least one thing in common.”

“We yearn for violence.”

“Yes, in the way that a carnivore hungers for its next bite of meat, we crave to hurt others. We put people through pain and suffering just to satiate our desires. Channel that energy towards the other teams and focus on inflicting as much harm and violence as you can. Forget about past transgressions, you two have a chance to make a statement by defeating two of the top male champions in the company. If you can put your feelings about me aside, then they stand no chance.”

“As for those teams, let’s take a closer look. First, we have a team that prides themselves on diversity. Boys, I’m not about to get into some weird, subconsciously racial tirade about all this. You do you. But when one of your teammates happens to be the man that holds the World title on his shoulder, then I start looking at his crew. Nate Harris, you’ve got a million dollar body with a ten cent brain. Maybe make it a Halloween sale and knock that down to five cents. But you happen to be the Gladiator Champion. I was once like you, Nate, riding all high and mighty off of a championship that had a ceiling. You can carry that championship and you can look me in the eyes. You and I will both know that, in that ring, you can’t flirt with the top of the line. I will send your ass straight back to the Coliseum where you belong. This is about as close as you will get to a true main event without buying front row tickets. And how about your bedfellow, Jack Ferriman? Honestly, I couldn't tell you three things off the top of my head about the guy. One, he’s part of Team Diversity Hire. Two, he seems to be close with Nate Harris. Three… I bet you he’s the weak link of the trio. Don’t make me break you down, Jackie boy. I will show you what it means to be main event status, because clearly Pax has not taken the time to warn you about the levels to this. At the top, it’s me and Pax. You go a rung below, you got guys like Nate Harris. Then you go to the bottom, that’s where you are, Jack. Right next to the Bueno Club.”

Caleb cracks a smile and chuckles, shaking his head. He fishes through the garbage bag again, pulling out a broken pair of shades.

“You see, I always felt like this was a mask. They say the eyes are windows to the soul, right? I didn’t want anybody to see into my soul. So I mask it. What are you trying to mask under there, Malo? Is it disfigurement? Shame? The fact that you’re not an actual luchador? Please, you must tell me with your broken English. If your band of misfit luchadors actually manages to win this match, I might actually have to hang up the boots in pure embarrassment. Luckily, I know that you don’t have a chance in hell at making that happen. I’m astonished that you all managed to be in the main event. Even more so than Harris and Ferriman. It’s incredible. Did a charity come and make a wish for all of you? That seems more likely than any of you getting one over on me.”

“But, of course, my sights are truly set on one man. You, Pax Stormcrow, know that being in the ring with me is a bad idea. That’s why your diversity goons are coming with you. In your heart, you know that every day draws you closer to the inevitable. It is not a matter of past, present or future. It is simply the word of the Legion. You and your boys want to rally against the machine? Idiots, I AM the machine! And I will chew you up, spit you out and take what you hold dear.”

“If my teammates fail me, then that is on them. But I seek more than some endeavor for trio supremacy. I aim to send a message to the World Champion. He knows what I am capable of. If I did not stop at his precious Charlotte, what does he think I will do to his friends? I told you, Pax. I will not stop until I strip away everything you love. That is no empty threat, that is a promise from a man who is relentless. There is nothing technical about what I want to do to you. Hurt. Pain. Destroy. It invades my mind and it’s all I can think about. It leaves no room for the past…”

Cannin rummages through his pocket until he pulls out a lighter. Flicking it on, he holds the flame to the garbage bag. The plastic begins to roar with fire, burning the contents within.

“See the vision. So says the Legionary.”

The camera pans down to the fire, letting it slowly burn up before fading to black.