Mirrors.

[kaster]

We begin in the Dark Room.

There is little to this place. A room that feels as empty as endless space. The void calls to any remnant of life. It invites them. Objects such as a chair, a table and a mirror are contained within the room. All put in there with purpose.

We see the Man enter the Dark Room. He seems to be filled with confidence and bravado. On the inside, there are merely gut-wrenching nerves. His insides flip to and fro, his hands slightly shake and his eyes are saying that he wants to be anywhere else. But he cannot. That is not in his best interest.

The Man pulls the chair out and takes a seat. His hands run over the smooth wooden surface of the table. His eyes dare not to meet the mirror. It stands up in front of him so that all of its reflection can be seen from where he sits.

He has been here before.

The Man takes a deep breath and interlocks his fingers. Even with the layers of the suit, he feels cold. His breath is not visible, but he swears that it’s near freezing temperature.

His eyes finally meet the mirror. Since that night, he hasn’t attempted to look into one. Not for fear of what might lie on the other side, but what may remain with him. He could still feel the blood on him. The cackle he bellowed out still rings in his ears.

“I’ve done it.”

He pauses, looking away with a hint of uncertainty. Would there be a response? Should there be? Could there be?

Nevertheless, the Man forges onwards.

“This will be my time. He has given me everything, just like I said.”

More silence. Perhaps his ego had been bruised too much. Or he would rather not give the satisfaction of acknowledgement.

“The power is almost in my grasp. I have one night to seize it for good. Do you understand? This will be what I have always desired… what you have always desired.”

“Do NOT take this piss poor excuse of an opportunity and make it into a false narrative.”

And there he stands. The Boy. Emblazoned in a charred outfit, the dried blood upon his scalp, a horrific scowl on his face.

“You shut me out. Never gave me a chance to do what I was fucking born to do. I worked my ass off to get us here and what now? I’m just in the corners of your fucked-up mind. I don’t get to be the Future of this business. I just have to sit here and wait for some asshole to gloat about how good he’s doing without me.”

The Man chuckles and shakes his head.

“Yet again you fail to see what I have done. I would have never believed that you would be just like all the others. Blind to what is actually happening. You aren’t angry at me for taking the chances you were offered. You’re angry that I am closer to the dream than you ever were.”

“Well, congratu-fucking-lations. You became a sellout and spit in the face of what should have been a bonafide legacy. Are you proud of yourself? Do you think that people will start to like you if you win that championship? Or are you just that fucking dense?”

“I had assumed that, with time, you would have been more open to the vision.”

“Fuck your vision. Oh, and fuck you, numbnuts. Do you think that I’m happy being stuck here? I could be back to beating up douchebags every week but noooo… someone has to go and stick his nose up some suit’s ass.”

“You use childish reasoning to disguise your true feelings. There’s a reason I had to push you away. You were of no further use to me. Your antics were entertaining, yes, but they served no purpose. Do you genuinely invest in the idea of one man becoming the Future of this entire industry, much less that man being yourself? Please.”

“I was doing just fine until you showed up. Then, you had to go and shit all over my operations. I had plans ready to go for my comeback. I would have shown the whole world what I was made of.”

“And thus, I spared you from further humiliation. Your techniques for accomplishment were subpar at best. Holding onto a guaranteed chance at glory for ages and then failing after all the hype? Honestly, I have done you a great service by reviving the image with help from my Legion.”

“Your Legion? Do you realize who you’re fucking with? That’s Roberto Verona! He’s as egomaniacal and power-hungry as they come. He will stop at nothing to usurp every facet of this business.”

“That reminds me of someone familiar…”

“If you ever compare me to that human skidmark, I’ll-”

“What will you do, boy? Throw another temper tantrum? Give me empty threats? Or shall you just talk into the ether, with no one to listen?”

“I can’t wait to see you fuck all of this up. I really can’t. Fuck the championship, I just want to see you on your hands and knees like the bitch you are.”

“More profanity from the petulant child. How apropos. As for your prayers upon my downfall, I think you should aspire to something more realistic. I will not fail. What I have cultivated is far beyond anything you could have come up with. My affinity for pain and violence… things you couldn’t stomach… have given me new life.”

The Man reaches into his pocket and retrieves a carton of cigarettes. He pulls one out and snags a lighter from the opposite pocket. Lighting up the cigarette, a small plume of smoke begins to form in front of his face. He waves his hand to clear some of the residue, staring back at the Boy.

“I know this has all been such a big adjustment for you. I did not expect you to be cheerful about it. But sometimes… you have to outgrow who you are. Out of necessity.”

“I never needed you. I don’t even know why you showed up in the first place.”

“Because I am everything you’re not. And it eats at you to know that it makes me much more successful than you. When I want something done, I will get it done.”

“You’ll never be able to do it. Verona has poisoned you into thinking this is all for you. He will twist that knife into your back when you’re not useful to him anymore.”

“I would like to see him try. But he won’t. He and I are two cerebral companions. It does us no good to wage a war against each other.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you are actually buying into the bullshit. You know what? Good. It will make your crash and burn so much sweeter.”

“Your words will only make my victory ever more glorious. The doubt you cast upon me is the same doubt everyone put upon you. And yet you are too short-sighted to see the hypocrisy. You should look into the mirror some time.”

“So should you.”

“I already am.”

“Fuck you.”

“Do not waste your breath more than you already have.”

“I’ll see you in hell.”

“You would need to see the vision first.”

The Man flicks the cigarette butt at the mirror. The Boy looks enraged, snarling as his nonchalant adversary. As the Boy stares daggers through the mirror, the Man puckers his lips and blows out a large cloud of smoke. The smoke covers the majority of the mirror. As it dissipates into oblivion, there is no Boy on the other side of the mirror.

It is only the Man left.

He smiles, feeling prideful in his work.

---

“I will relish this.”

Caleb Cannin stands behind bars. He is trapped in some sort of enclosure, with iron bars acting as the walls around him. His slow walk around the perimeter finds him brushing his hand along the bars. When he pauses, a wicked smile comes to his face.

“And so it shall be. A chance to capture the greatest prize in our sport. A symbol of excellence. An accolade of the highest honor. A lightning rod for power.”

“I have called for another opportunity at the world championship. Pax Stormcrow is willing to fight not one but three men in order to prove himself as a fighting champion. Brave, yet foolish. He falls into the same vices that have caught so many before him. In his endless quest to prove something to the people, he finds himself at significant risk of being washed over by the tides of time.”

The dim lighting is only to capture Cannin’s figure as he escapes into the shadows. When he returns, he holds a loincloth similar to the one Pax uses on his gear. It seems to be stained red in splotches all over. He drops the loincloth at his feet.

“I have told you that I will come for everything you hold dear. What worries me is that you may not take my words seriously, Pax. After all this time, something tells me that you’re more worried about keeping your values intact than your championship reign. Are you attempting to be some sort of hero to the fans? I can assure you, it is a fruitless endeavor. Just like your attempts to diminish the influence of the Legion. We are everywhere. As much as you believe that I have been gifted my way back into title contention, I simply see it as Roberto Verona capitalizing on the potential he sees in me. You see, I think you are too blind to realize the difference in my demeanor before and after I was brought into Verona’s fold. Now, with his guidance, I am focused. Determined. Hellbent. You continue to belittle my impact as the Legion’s crown jewel, but I see nothing but pure jealousy. I have one of the most influential men in this business behind me and all you have are your puny Diversity Hire friends and little miss Charlotte. They cannot withstand the power of the Legion. Nor can they comprehend the influence of the Legionary.”

“So despite all of your threats, all of the name-calling and all of your theories as to why I challenge you at Survival of the Fittest, you know that I have the capability to break you. And when I am given the chance, I will not hesitate. I have no distractions in front of me. All I will have is you and your pathetic attempts to rally the crowd behind you. It will do you no good. Perhaps you can make another livestream or vlog explaining your defeat at my hands. And then you can make the announcement to all of your ‘Neetchies’ that I, Caleb Cannin, am the NEW… IWF World Champion.”

A sinister grin appears before Cannin himself disappears. As he comes back into view again, he holds up a leather jacket. Sloppily painted in red on the back is the words “DE JÄGER”. He runs a finger across the letters, subtly crossing it out in the process. He takes the fingers and licks it before grinning to the camera.

“Hello, Bryce. I don’t believe I have introduced myself.”

“You and I seem to be of a similar ilk, Bryce. We both seem to appreciate the finer aspects of life, we have a penchant for causing chaotic violence and we appear to have great technical prowess. In all honesty, I see a lot of myself in you. Though… I can’t seem to stand the sight of you. Strange how that works, isn’t it? But I think that you have simply become a nuisance to me. I don’t particularly understand how defeating has-beens such as Rob Diamond would grant you access into this match, but I digress. If your general attitude towards Verona is anything to go by, you must be as dumb as you look. Your defiance has brought you this far, yes, but you will soon learn that rebelling against an authority such as Roberto’s has dire consequences. I will be surprised if you genuinely have anyone rooting for you. At least Pax has those moronic fans and we have the Legion… who do you have? Perhaps some floozy that you’ve picked up and will drop off when the weekend is over. Don’t expect to treat her to the VIP championship treatment.”

“But if you do decide to be a brave little rebel and step up to face me, I think this place is not ready for the havoc we would unleash. Personally, I look forward to that prospect. You can try to spill my blood, but I will pour yours all over Dallas. And when I beat you so senseless that you cannot remember why you ever attempted to match my level of violence… I will put the crescendo to my symphony of pain. Whether I pin you, tap you out or simply beat you into submission, you will always think twice before speaking out against someone more powerful than you.”

He drops the jacket down next to Pax’s loincloth. Then, he retreats into the darkness one final time. A large sigh emanates from the shadows before he does. Once he comes into view, he holds up a blood-stained suit.

“And then there’s you. My mentor.”

“When you had first announced that you would be competing in this match, I was shocked. I could not believe what I was hearing. But then… with enough time, it all started to make sense. You weren’t inserting yourself to try and capture the glory days. You did it to test me. This is my final test. If I can overcome your challenge, then I will have truly earned this victory. And I will. That is my promise to you, Roberto. For all that you have done for me… I will not disappoint you. Even if you try to stop me in this match, I will know why. I am your strongest soldier. I am the Legionary. I am everything you need this company to be. I will prove to you that you have made the correct choice. Do not listen to all the lies and deception that has orbited us since we first collaborated, Roberto. We have done beautiful work. You need me to win just as much as I need to win. And together, we will have this company all in the hands of the Legion. All to mold in our vision.”

Dropping the suit on top of the pile at his feet, he gives a slight nod.

“If I am able to beat the current champion, a brash upstart and even the man who has taken me under his wing, then I will have proven that I am unstoppable. The championship is the manifestation of that. It holds power that most people could never fathom. But I know that it is within my reach. There is nothing that can stop me now…”

Striking a hidden match with his boot, he holds up the lit matchstick before dropping at the pile of chosen symbols for his opponents.

“And I will let it all burn to see the vision through. I will be the last one standing amidst ashes and soot. All with the gold firmly captured in my hands.”

“So says the Legionary.”

“So says the man who shall survive.”

“So says the Future world champion.”

He backs away from the fire as it illuminates the enclosure. He hunkers down in the corner, which is now revealed to be covered in spatters of blood. A chilling laugh emerges from Cannin as the camera slowly zooms out, lingering on the fire as it rages on.