Crimes Against Nature

[Cyrus Daniels]

For Cyrus Daniels, Halloween, much like Christmas, was an absurdly overblown time of year, especially in America. When he had first arrived in the country in 2011, he had no desire to stay here for more than eighteen months, maybe two years at a push - just long enough for him to start over where nobody knew him. Far from any associations with the Queensland Vipers or the biggest bank job they’d ever attempted. He’d done the time, as the newest and therefore most expendable of their recruits, the rest of Nicky Campbell’s crew had been all too happy and all too quick to sell him down the river. He just didn’t have the leverage or reputation to escape a decade’s incarceration.

It was almost incomprehensible to Cyrus just how far he’d come in his life, personally. He’d now been out of prison longer than he’d been in it, and it had been over two decades since he’d had anything to do with his former life or any of his fellow gang members, and in all that time, his once inconsolable desire for retribution had been slowly but surely eroded. He had an American wife and a couple of kids now. He had responsibilities as a husband and father. His thoughts, his feelings and even his words were not only valid but also had consequences. Cyrus’ life choices were truly his, and honestly, looking back on how he’d chosen to go about building himself this new living for himself, most of his decisions were surprising even to him.

If someone had told him even as recently as half a decade ago that he’d not only to be happily married to the love of his life but they’d be raising a beautiful little family together, just doing all the things he’d never gotten the chance to do in his own childhood, he’d have laughed at just how stupidly idealistic they were being.

Cyrus Daniels knew how real life worked, he’d lived enough of it to have a handle on it, or at least he’d always thought so. He’d resigned himself to the bitter reality that his father had so ruthlessly enforced whilst he was growing up. Real happiness and true freedom didn’t exist, not for colossal failures and perpetual disappointments like him.

He would never have a family who loved him because he didn’t deserve it.

He wasn’t man enough to look after or protect anyone, every beating Cyrus and his mother had ever taken was a painful reminder of that fact, according to his absolute bloody bastard cunt of a father.

Cyrus took a deep breath as he led his family to a stranger’s door. He still wasn’t sure about this. They weren’t locals around here, but life on the road meant that they also couldn’t just stick to ‘Trick Or Treating’ closer to home. Vivienne seemed to sense his apprehension, and squeezed his hand in complete reassurance. Though he knew how this was all supposed to go, he’d never actually done this before. He considered whether he should ring the bell or knock much more carefully than he should. He went for a knock with his knuckles, hesitated and chose the bell instead.

A few tense moments passed before a sweet silver-haired woman answered the door with a glass bowl of various miniature candies and chocolates.

“Trick Or Treat!” Vivienne announced brightly from behind her customised Silent Hill nurse cosplay mask. Noah was on her hip in a custom made Chucky costume.

“Oh my, ain't y’all an adorable little family,” the kindly grandma remarked.

Cyrus hid his impulse to object behind a wide smile. He’d never been called adorable in his entire life, and it wasn’t as if he was even wearing a costume, he was too old for that nonsense. Besides it was just for kids, and he’d never been allowed to be one. This stupid Southern hag didn’t know what she was talking about, it was probably early onset dementia, Cyrus thought.

Liam was on Cyrus’ hip in a green triceratops costume, and eagerly held out his orange bucket to receive the old lady’s sweetest offerings. “Thank you,” Cyrus said through gritted teeth.

“Y’all are most welcome,” she stupidly insisted. “Y’all come back now, y’hear?”

If Cyrus’ hands weren’t full, he’d be balling up a fist right now. He didn’t know exactly why but something about the Texas accent irritated him beyond belief. It took all his discipline not to roll his eyes or talk out of turn to the elderly hick. This was only their first stop, they had a whole neighbourhood of these uncomfortable social interactions to deal with. Cyrus breathed a little easier when the old woman finally closed the door and they could all just move on with their lives.

“No idea how you stand it, Kitten,” Cyrus said as they walked away.

“What?”

“Being nice ta complete fuckin’ strangers,” Cyrus said. “Not like they’ve ever done anythin’ ta earn it.”

“It costs nothing to be nice, love.”

“Yeah, well, it costs nothin’ ta be a cunt either,” Cyrus shrugged. “I know which I prefer.”

“I’m sorry that your abuser made you feel you weren’t owed basic human kindness and decency. I’m sorry he made you earn it, when it should in fact have been automatic. You’re worthy and valid,” Vivienne gently insisted.

“Whatever,” Cyrus said. He pulled Vivienne along with him. “Let’s get this over quickly, we haven’t got all night and there’s only so much of the bloody accent I can take before my ears start bleeding in protest.”

“Baby steps,” Vivienne quietly reminded herself. Cyrus didn’t know anything other than a lifetime of mental, physical and emotional abuse. He wasn’t going to heal from that kind of compound trauma easily. Nobody ever did. She had more than enough love to help him weather this storm, even if it took the rest of her life, she’d make him believe he really was the man she knew he could be. ‘Until Death Do Us Part’ wasn’t a vow she didn’t fully intend to honour. Besides, if he was completely a hopeless case, he’d never have agreed to this in the first place.

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The Malayan tiger enclosure at the Houston Zoo served as a fitting backdrop for Cyrus and Vivienne Daniels. Their twin boys Noah and Liam had been exceptionally well behaved over Halloween and whilst they’d been ‘Trick Or Treating’, so Cyrus was rewarding their good behaviour with a surprise day out. His own father had never structured his parenting around a reward system that incentivised and reinforced good behaviour, and that is why Cyrus considered it a good idea. Anything that was the opposite of how he’d been raised was automatically better to Cyrus.

Auntie Mai Everstone had agreed to tag along and look after the boys off camera whilst their proud parents went to work. A healthy work-life balance was crucial to a successful and meaningful relationship and so for all his faults, Vivienne knew that Cyrus always had his heart in the right place when it came to looking after her and their little boys.

In an effort to reinforce that Cyrus had really stepped up and impressed her, Vivienne had her own reward system for him. Today, she wore his favourite scarlet low cut dress, so that the monotonous obligation of addressing six people he couldn’t care less for passed by a little more pleasantly.

Cyrus himself wore a simple black leather jacket over an olive green T-Shirt and black denim jeans. His favourite hunting knife hung from his belt over his left hip, giving him the air of a dominant predator in his own right.

“Can I just say I think this match is a waste of time? We are already fighting all of these other teams at Survival of the Fittest. I get it’s the job and management booked it but this is still a giant waste of our time, hun. Especially when we all know who is walking out of that steel cage as the new tag team champions in a couple of weeks. It’s you and me.” Vivienne addressed Cyrus, fully aware the camera was rolling as she hugged him around his waist, not caring what anybody thought. They’d always have their critics, regardless.

“Have I ever told you how much hotter you are when you’re confident and self assured and believe in us, Kitten?” Cyrus grinned. “More ta the point, you’re too bloody right. We are the only team that matters, not only in this match but also in the entire division, such as it is. Team Diversity Hire can cry about being overlooked all they want, the fact is you and I were offered an opportunity and we took it. If management isn’t handing the so called World Champ’s mates quite as many opportunities, I don’t see how that’s our fucking problem. Maybe the suits in the back don’t think of them as highly as they think of themselves. Maybe they just don’t think they’re that bloody good.”

“Yeah, like we actually earned one shot at Bella Morte, whether you like it or not, and we know a lot of people don’t. We just don’t care. Savage By Nature will probably claim they’re owed a rematch against Bella Morte or something. I don’t think that’s an automatic thing, especially in matches involving favourites like Eternity. Because if it is, Verona owes me big time. I never got an automatic rematch when she beat me for the World Championship in the first ever female headlined Night of the Immortals five years ago. But whatever.” Viv waves off just how bothered she was by how overlooked that particular main event seemed to be in the grand scheme of things, determined to keep herself grounded more in the present, she hugged Cyrus, her rock, even tighter.

“It’s in the past, I’ve moved on mostly, because it’s not like I had much of a choice. Anyway, my therapist would say to keep focused on the present and not dwell on the past, so let’s start with Savage By Nature. Tell me why I should be impressed or intimidated by a guy who can’t be bothered to speak for himself most of the time and instead relies on someone else to do the lion’s share of the talking for him. Sure, he hits hard but my partner hits harder, so how impressive is all that raw power really? Portia seems to think she can come after me because they’ve got friendship bracelets with Brooklyn Madrox. As somebody who actually stood by Brooklyn’s side until very recently, I know exactly how little her friendship is worth. Brooklyn is a classic narcissist, self absorbed and happy to play the helpless put upon victim who was wronged by everyone else. The closest she’s ever come to really giving a damn about somebody else is her sister April, and even that only extends as far as April is willing to fight her battles for her. But I digress, my issues with Brooklyn are for another time.”

“Like I was saying, it’s not like Stephen or Portia or even Widow did anything when Brooklyn needed support. When Rowan was taken out, who actually stood by Brooklyn’s side, and stopped The Murder from collapsing in on itself a hell of a lot sooner than it did? Me. Who refused to just roll over and die when my Murder Sisters were attacked? Me. Who actively recruited replacements to try and keep us all on track despite every setback? Me. So, please shut the hell up about how I betrayed your supposed friend, Brooklyn. Nobody has done more to help Brooklyn and keep her need for retribution alive than me. I’m the real friend, or at least I was, when I cared. Stephen could have fought Dean Harper alongside us, we could have used the reinforcements, instead not even Brooklyn could be bothered until it was her turn to step up, so don’t try and act like you’re not just happy to name drop Brooklyn as such a good friend when it suits you and you need the extra name recognition to convince everyone that you’re more well connected and relevant in this company than you actually are.”

Vivienne takes a deep breath and sighs, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I know I went off on a bit of a tangent there, but it really fucking bothers me when fakes pretend to be friends. I can’t stand it, but I should move on from Stephen and Portia’s bullshit before I lose my train of thought completely.” Vivienne paused. “So, um, Black Widow. What is there to say about her really? She’s like an off brand Abby Spencer. Just about as interesting without her more accomplished partner too. In fact, the most notable thing she has ever done is blow Madjinn on live television. Was she ever fined or reprimanded for that? I didn’t think so. Gee, if I didn’t know any better, I’d start to think the really important people in this company just have it out for me and my family. Black Widow likes hurting people? I’m sorry. Does anyone really think that’s unique in the wrestling business? We all like hurting people to some degree, we wouldn’t be paid to do it on a regular basis otherwise. A little originality, please. Is that really too much to ask for?”

Vivienne laid her head on her husband’s chest and just fell silent, soothed by his heartbeat, whilst he rubbed her back and took over whilst she refocused herself.

“I think Kitten said all that really needs ta be said about Terrella and his Shiela, so allow me ta address a whole other sack of shit. Ya see, I think Kitten was on the money when she said that somebody behind the curtain has it out for us. How else do ya explain how Randon Hayes set the sides for this match? He’s essentially handicapped us by putting two of the whiniest bitches in this company on our side. Bobby & Nick have done nothing to earn their opportunity. They weren’t even booked inta a match or anything. They just fell arse backwards into a tag title opportunity, why? ‘Cause the head case who spends more time in his shrink’s office than he does in a wrestling ring these days decided he has a problem with the former champions? Is that really all it takes ta get a shot at the big time around here? I suppose that’s only really true if your last name isn’t Daniels, ‘cause I sure as hell haven’t been gifted a shot at Pax, despite all our problems with each other,” Cyrus said. “At least that’s a current champ. In fact, my issues with Shitting Bull landed me in such hot water that I was told I needed ta cool off or risk a bloody suspension, so why isn’t it the same rules for everyone around here? Kitten wants originality, I demand consistency. I would say justice, but I learned years ago that there is no such thing.”

“As far as I can tell, Bobby Verona has a bit of a fetish for rewarding people who are a bit gone. I mean some of the biggest loons in the company get opportunities handed ta them like Halloween candy. Marshall should be locked up, but not in a cage with me. He should be in the nuthouse. If Nick actually cared about the little shit stain, he’d be checking him inta a psych ward, not dragging him inta a fight he didn’t start and damn sure won’t be able ta finish. See, RAM’s nothing but proof positive of everything wrong with non discriminatory hiring practices in Corporate America. The bloke openly admits ta being so whacked out that he almost checked out, but he’s such a bloody failure he couldn’t even do that right, and instead of giving him a padded cell, he’s allowed to walk inta a title fight? I thought ya were a sharp bloke Verona, so when did ya decide that it was okay ta reward bogans like Marshall, hey?”

“Maybe you’re more sadistic than I gave ya credit for and actually want me ta put the goat outta everybody’s misery for good, ‘cause stepping into any sort of cage fight with me is suicide. And when he fails on Tuesday and again at Survival of the Fittest and he starts ta think he’s better off dead, it’ll be because of me. Since you’re too much of a bloody coward ta actually get results on your own, I recommend a good length of rope. It’s a hell of a lot cleaner than ending up as a splat on the pavement, and always seemed to be a favourite in the big house. In fact I don’t remember a time when a bloke who was so set on ending things on the inside didn’t get results by simply hanging himself inside his cell.”

“Speaking of wanting ta end yourself, I guess I could offer the same sage advice ta the gothic clown and her identity thief girlfriend. If Eternity’s so damned desperate ta be reunited with her parents, ya should let her go Abby. It’d be an act of mercy, like when my Dad made me slit the throat of our pet bunny after it contracted myxomatosis. An act of compassion, he called it, and in hindsight it was probably one of the nicest things he ever did for me. Hanging on ta someone whose clearly suffering, just ‘cause ya love them so much is selfish and cruel, Abby. Let her go or I’ll make ya watch whilst I bleed her out right in front of you. Haven’t ya had enough of watching me make every single member of your family suffer, already?” Cyrus asked. “How much is too much? Well, that’s up ta you now, isn’t it, darling?”