Post by The Cosplay Playboy on Jul 25, 2015 15:03:41 GMT -6
July 18, 2015
San Diego, California
“...So, you’re finally here.”
“I warned you, didn’t I? That I would come back when the time was right.”
It wasn’t too long until she dug into her own purse, pulling out a few coins and some bills with it. The man across this particular, worn-down cart with its semblance of charm looked over it for a moment and his hands reached down, already knowing what would come next. This was a conversation that they explored almost one full month ago, given the aftermath of everything that happened to Noriaki a.k.a. Tom Higashikata when he stepped through the ropes to defend his friend’s honor against SHOZO. A series of unfortunate events that some could say Fate dictated, but that the two of them knew all too well what strings might have been pulled to lead it that way. Social media had its ways of connecting people and their mutual dislikes...and for these two, it couldn’t be any more fitting that this meeting took place at last.
“Spicy tuna, just like before?”
She nodded, watching as Takeru Yuusou brought out all the necessary ingredients in front of her and within two, maybe three minutes at most, got a half-dozen sushi rolls ready before putting them up on a small plate along with a glob of wasabi and some ginger right next to the rolls and handing them over along with a pair of chopsticks and an extra small bowl with some soy sauce.
“I’d have put them in one of the enclosed boxes, but we’re out,” Takeru sighed. “The booth barely breaks even and I have to keep feeding Explosivo energy drinks on top of it…”
Taking the cover off the chopsticks and breaking them at the top to divide them, Ophelia Hildegard a.k.a. GOTHRA placed the entirety of the wasabi within the soy sauce and mixed the two components carefully before grabbing one of the sushi pieces, dipping them into the brown liquid and letting it sink in for a moment before bringing the contents of the sushi into her mouth, chewing on it and savoring the flavor with each and every bite she took. Takeru couldn’t help but a small smile which fainted as he realized the other item of importance here. The very thing that had brought these two together outside of their workplace in (R)Evolution Wrestling. It wasn’t long before he reached under the cart again and placed something next to the counter where Ophelia had sat down and begun eating.
Not a moment sooner, Hildegard’s eyes lay upon the sheathed, large and wrapped up item placed in front of her. “Is this the one?”
Takeru nodded. “The bastard’s been after this thing for eons. It’s going to put the fear of God unto him the moment you take it out,” he commented. “But why in the world would you want it now, again? Much less to find a way of returning it right back to him...”
“Why haven’t you used it on him yourself if that’s been your true intention all along?” Ophelia asked, getting nothing more than silence and a stare for a comment that may or may not have crossed a few thin lines. “...Sorry.”
“No need to be,” Yuusou replied. “You were saying?”
“...There’s somebody’s Fate that needs to be changed back to its natural course...somebody whom he threw right into the whirlwind without any given reason to do it,” she stated. “We’re going to make him correct that distortion or so help me God, I will take what you’ve given me and put it right through his heart.”
“Well, that seems like someth-” Suddenly, a screeching halt in Takeru Yuusou’s train of thought as he asked the next obvious question. “What do you mean, we?”
“Don’t suppose the booth has space for one more, does it?”
Both Ophelia Hildegard and Takeru Yuusou look over to the unknown voice from a few feet away, as Yuusou’s eyes widen while Ophelia managed a small smile.
“You’re late. And we’ve got a lot to discuss,” she stated.
Chris Strike’s expression matched her own. “Then scoot over, moth, we’ve got a know-it-all bastard to nail,” Strike shot right back at her as he walked towards the cart, pulling up a seat and placing his hands on the wooden counter of the cart, looking at GOTHRA and making sure he had her undivided attention for this part. “Just remember your end of the bargain when we’re done with him.”
-----------------------------------
July 23, 2015
Las Vegas, Nevada
“Tick, tock...tick, tock…”
As the camera turns on its red light, we slowly showcase a wall filled with hundreds of quality antique clocks on each and every side, all in display, all hands synced together as the same exact time is shown in each and every one of them. As the shot widens, collectibles items, jewelry, home decor and much more are also on display in shelves, wide glass cases and some items are even boldly displayed on the top part of those cases and near the checkout counter. The store in question is “jjc Clocks & Antiques,” located in the heart of Las Vegas, Nevada - three and a half miles down from the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino where Battle Without Honor or Humanity II would happen in just a few days’ time. While normally just known as an antique shop where curious guests can wander in and out of and pick up a few rare goods, it was completely empty compared in this go-around. It all had something to do with the man arriving from stage left, decked out in a full fledged three-piece suit from Brioni, made out of his super luxurious Vanquish II fabric, which happens to use some of the rarest fibers in the world, including qiviuk, pashmina, and vicuna - not to mention, the stitching being made of white gold. Only one hundred of these suits are made a year and the clothier who makes them also happens to be the same one who makes suits for James Bond movies since 1995.
So, in short? The EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight champion’s one suit cost more than the entirety of Johnny Cannon’s booze cabinet.
This is all fine. But what looks even more fine is the shine emanating from the EXODUS Pro World championship that rests on Chris Strike’s right shoulder, as he keeps it held there with his right hand. The look on his face resembles that of a guy who had his daily intake of sugar to keep himself awake for the next few hours and of somebody who looked like he’d rather settle unfinished business before one of the biggest match of his career here and now instead of waiting until near showtime.
A race to the top to retrieve the greatest power one can hold in EXODUS Pro in the World title held across his shoulder. A ladder match between himself and his greatest challenger, where one man would make the climb to the mountain and stay there while the other would fall into the abyss.
This was the prelude to what would be the final chapter in perhaps the greatest rivalry of his entire career.
Tick, tock, tick, tock...
The countdown was upon them with each and every passing second…
And yet, time has stopped.
“Hate isn’t enough to describe my relationship with Christian Kane. Not anymore.”
His words were succinct, his posture didn’t dare change even though emotions stirred inside of him every time that his nemesis’ name was uttered, every time that he even gave it thought. Their history was a long one, none of it was pretty and in Chris Strike’s case, it was enough to bring forth a bubbling level of rage that he has never quite felt for any other human being on the face of this planet. It’s the kind of thing that led him to take the shiny gold he cherishes so much and use it as a battering ram against Christian Kane’s skull months ago. It’s why he revelled so much on how psychologically hurt the vile piece of humanity - who spoke countless times about taking his championship in decisive fashion - couldn’t pull it off at “The War Isn’t Over Yet” iPPV due to the time limit in the match itself. It’s why he was overjoyed when he won his second EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight title while Christian Kane saw the girlfriend he cheated on screw him out of his precious International title and hand it to Justin Brooks on a silver basket.
For you see, schadenfreude at Christian Kane’s expense would never get old, even after this chapter of their lives was long concluded.
“Given how long we have done this whole song and dance, we've seen each other at different times of our lives, different circumstances. And yet, between us? Nothing much has changed,” Chris Strike stated, rolling his eyes at the following train of thought that his enemy has been practically dick-riding for months now since interrupting him after he reclaimed the EXODUS Pro World title for his own in Japan. “Even if you argue until you’re blue in the face about how I’m the liar and the deceiver here and that you’ve been right all along for all these years while you’ve been capable of change.”
Strike shrugged his shoulders, not exactly denying any of these claims because he didn’t really have the time to waste his breath on such accusations. Much less with them coming from a crowd consisted of a generation that wanted instant gratification and who barely even gave a damn about professional wrestling until EXODUS Pro started handing out tickets to the UCSD campus on the basis that they needed SOMEWHERE to run their shows after all.
“In a way, it's funny to see him trying to win a crowd this desperately, because over the years, time has proven that it's about anything but the wrestling for him. It has shown us that unless he's getting paid a ridiculous amount of money to be mediocre or has a belt practically handed to him in a silver basket or doesn't have all twenty of his fuck buddies on payroll that he becomes nothing short of a whiny bitch. The more that time goes by, the more Christian Kane will try to tell the world that he was a bad person, that he will never try to justify the things he’s done to so many in this business. He’ll admit to all you sheep that he has a problem, that change is a slow and arduous process but that at the end, he gave myself unto the people and now, he’s proud to be their New Hope.”
He scoffs at the very notion of the moniker. The New Hope. Nothing more than a catchphrase with some nerd credibility for the Star Wars aficionados around the world to buy into the illusion that Christian Kane was one of their own when his entire career was built on acting like he was the one percenter compared to the other ninety-nine. He hadn’t seen this level of shameless pandering since Black Jones campaigning to get himself on the main roster months ago to then burn out like a comet.
“And yet, this is the same man who will take to social media and still continue to mock people using both racial and sexual slurs at will, who will shame them if they so much as exact their just revenge on him whether verbally or physically like Ms. Sullivan did months ago. This is the same man who will claim that he is about the people with the microphone in his hands while the cameras are rolling and then threaten to leave the company entirely backstage and through social media unless he sees another pay raise...y’know, when he barely has managed to do anything in EXODUS other than be the first one to find out that Lexy Chapel’s chin is actually softer than his own set of morals. This is the exact same excrement of a human being who once claimed to be the modern-day Jesus Christ of professional wrestling, coming out in a cross and all but who is still scared shitless of anything that resembles the word commitment - something he now claims to have suddenly found as if he stumbled onto an oasis while wandering the goddamned Mojave for a decade. I mean, what’s next? Going to claim that you’ll lead EXODUS past the Red Sea like Moses did, since you’re such a revolutionary leader and role model now?
See, I want to take this whole perception that Christian Kane’s been feeding the world about being some sort of conquering hero and a champion that they deserve and I’d like to put a railroad spike through it - wouldn’t be the first time doing that. Because contrary to whatever Kane may be trying so hard to sell you all on over the past few months, my dearly beloved sheep...he is still very much the same chauvinistic, foul-mouthed, cocky, pathetic worm of a human being that he has always been. The only difference is that he found the one wrestling company and crowd on the planet that's willing to jerk him off on the basis of his wrestling talent and the #STUDLIFE debaucherous lifestyle that he has come to embody. You can all call him Dr. Dick all you want, but it won’t be as amusing to your precious little cheeks when he finds a way to fuck you all over without the courtesy of any lube.”
And of course, it would all eventually come back to the EXODUS Pro crowd - the majority of it comprised of college hipsters who barely gave two shits about wrestling until Rufus Frost, Jonathan Collins, Nicholas Gray and company rolled the shitty, stained red carpet and like moths to the flame, they came along for the ride...of course, to only eventually claim they knew everything about professional wrestling and to make the simple determination that anything that didn’t fit their skewed narrative was not worthy of their attention, let alone to stand in a ring that they would likely dare to call their own. In a way, the World champion was starting to get part of the reason they hate Chuck Matthews so much when he was trying to take over the company. Because he would have moved the EXODUS Pro brand as far away from the small-time arenas as fast as humanly possible, making it so that the voices that echoed so loudly across the RIMAC week in and week out feel like whispers in NHL and NBA capable stadiums...thus, bringing forth their greatest fears and rendering them as the minority they truly are.
But fortunately for the hipster douchebags, this particular chapter isn’t about them. So the champion decided to move on to the heart of the matter.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
Chris Strike saw the wall in front of him and those same old clocks with their pendulums swinging in timely form. Yet, time was frozen...
“For a guy who literally told me once that wrestling was a dying artform and that you’d partake in improving it no longer, you’re surprisingly...still good at it? It’s left me rather dumbfounded in a way, Christian. It amazed me that you took me to the limit for thirty minutes at The War Isn’t Over Yet. Some will point out that perhaps time changed your perspective on the subject matter. But I, Strike, know that isn’t quite the case. Your record of backtracking over the years is something Britney Spears wishes she could replicate in order to make us forget all about 2004 through 2007 of her life. But understanding you the way that I, Strike, know you...well, it’s out of pure spite that you still keep doing this. It’s not because you wish to be anyone’s superior or to claim multiple accolades and leave your own mark in the wrestling business. It’s because you wish to be my superior in every way, shape and form. You will likely deny this truth until the moment you go six feet under but in fact, isn’t that how it all ended up starting in the first place?
2008, in Pro Wrestling FIRE...you tried to make a mark but nearly flamed out to that point of no return on a booze and pill binge, while I returned from a prolonged absence from the ring to push Noble-Hart to the limit along with Lyn Dallins plus claimed the company’s first and last World Cup tournament, very likely on my way to challenge Jack Benevolence for the gold before the company went up in flames.
2009 to 2010, in that abysmal cesspool known as Universal Wrestling League...I claimed its World Heavyweight championship by beating the so-called ‘unbeatable’ Tic Tic and put that company on my back while taking it on a journey to the Western United States...and you won the title long after me in an attempt to emulate my reign and then proceeded to lose it in embarrassing fashion to Cory Tyler, of all people.
Some minor coincidences, you can argue. But it’s in 2012 where the pictures becomes clearer. For it was at the time where my success in Sex & Violence Wrestling had led me to winning its Defiance championship, which I held and defended against anybody put in front of me. It was in the middle of that reign that you resurfaced into my life, Christian Kane...and proceeded to basically wreck it. The fake-outs, the attempts at acting like you had an affair with my then-girlfriend, the actress you hired to look like my wife when you trying to get to Jo failed miserably, the constant digs at my family, my country, my heritage, my friends - all of the psychological warfare you employ with just about everyone these days - and last but certainly not least? The wrench you took to my knee repeatedly until I passed out from the pain and the championship you took from me.”
In the world of professional wrestling, you were always bound to experience both the highest of highs and lowest of lows. But as the incident of the SVW Defiance Championship match in Vancouver, BC on August 26, 2012 was the worst loss that the EXODUS Pro World champion has ever experienced in his career. The most humiliating of the bunch and worse, the one that eventually broke him both in a physical and mental capacity. All done at the hands of one single man that nearly three years later was still there, ready to haunt him and once again take something away from him…
Tick, tock, tick, tock...
The pendulum of the ancient clocks on the wall may swing in pure synchronized fashion but as he recalled the incident, to Chris Strike, it almost felt as if time had stopped as he forced himself to bear through those memories again with clinched teeth and a mental state that betrayed what the cameras saw holding the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship.
But yet, while those same pendulums kept things in proportion and moved on, time was frozen...
“You didn’t just take a title back then. You took a year out of my life, Christian Kane. A goddamned year. You made me feel the same emptiness and pain that you claim to have experienced for years before our very first one-on-one encounter like you meant to, while reminding me of the deaths of my family without any shred of regret. In fact, you reveled in it, calling yourself a God Slayer and everything under the sun. That’s how you made your name, Christian Kane. That’s how you became the big money player who can demand to be grossly overpaid any time you throw a tantrum. That’s how you became infamous in this industry.
Because you broke Chris Strike.
Because you slayed a God in this industry.”
At long last, some semblance of emotion escapes from within the mental turmoil and showcases itself to the cameras and the world as they notice his left hand having balled into a fist already, white knuckles and all from how hard Chris Strike clenched on to it.
“That’s not something that just heals with time. That’s not something somebody goes out of their way to forget. Because on August 26, 2012, you solidified the reality that you and I would be enemies for the rest of our days. You said it yourself that the war wasn’t over between you and I, Strike, and you were right. I, Strike, had not quite finished exacting the divine punishment upon you that you are and always will be deserving of for as long as you breathe. Which leads me back to the point, Christian Kane. Ever since we met, every time that I have stepped into a wrestling company, you were right there trying to emulate exactly what I’ve done and to do so at the expense of I, Strike. History doesn’t lie, Christian. Because nearly three years to the date, here you are once again, daring to defy I, Strike, and most importantly, daring to take something away from my possession and my being yet again.
Not because you want to give the good people of EXODUS Pro a champion they deserve, not because you want to live up to your asinine title of The New Hope and show you’ve truly changed…
But because you want to take something away from me yet again.
Because you want to show the world at large that somehow, someway, you’ve always been better than Chris Strike. Because your inferiority complex to me is so gigantic that it has gotten to the point where you need to beat I, Strike, at each and every given opportunity. It’s been like that ever since 2008 and it hasn’t changed one bit. No matter what happens, you are always there, chasing my back at any given turn...hell, in a way, it’s almost admirable. It shows that maybe you can be tenacious, maybe even determined to do everything and anything under your power to make sure I cannot climb the ladder to retrieve my championship at Battle Without Honor or Humanity. But therein lies your greatest problem, Christian Kane...and the reason why you have not been able to beat me ever since I came back from the knee your nearly tore.
You’re frozen in time, Christian...and you can’t move on until you beat I, Strike, into a bloody pulp and once again, take away something that is mine! You can’t move on with life until you’ve humiliated me yet again and the only difference now is that you have a front office and a bunch of sheep cheering you on to do it, salivating at the fairy tail ending they’ve been longing for ever since Abby Park got thrown into irrelevance by yours truly.”
Frozen in time…frozen in the same manner that the current, two-time EXODUS Pro World champion was for nearly a year, reliving his injury and most shameful moment at the hands of his opponent over and over again...frozen in time in the exact same manner as Chris Strike had been for nearly three years after his wife and children’s abrupt passing, not being able to even dare take a step forward for the fear of tripping over his feet, falling onto his face and never being able to pick himself back up again.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
Frozen like he is right now, recalling the past in order to remember what he needs to do in order to see his future take place...
He moved on from that fear once, thought he left it all behind and yet...there it was, ready, willing and more than able to throw him back into that same abyss once again. For in order to move forward from the frozen time, Christian Kane’s fragile little psyche needed to pass on his own accursed insecurities and fears onto something else to even dare move forward from the frozen time. A cursed man desperately trying to latch onto something with enough stability in order to claim he is everything that he says. That something was the EXODUS Pro World title in this scenario, just like it had been the SVW Defiance title nearly three years ago.
“...Not again…” he finally uttered, after moments of silence. “...never...again...”
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
The pendulums swung rapidly, in sync and now, they weren’t the only thing that kept Chris Strike at the moment from returning onto another set of recollections from the past...
“Never again will you use I, Strike, as your stepping stone again, Christian Kane. Never again will I, Strike, be your personal example to prove that every bit of bullshit that has been spewed out of your mouth is the truth. You will not take away the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship that I, Strike, have fought tooth and nail for, a championship you would screw me out of at a moment’s whim if you actually held any semblance of power around here before suspending me indefinitely - like you did after the last Battle Without Honor or Humanity in Japan last year. But in this sequel, Christian Kane? I, Strike, will have neither honor nor humanity to offer you. All I will have to offer is the same thing you have suffered at my hand time...and time again:
Pain. Unearthly, agonizing pain.
A pain that you would dare cause upon me time and time again and that I will return unto you one hundred times over. A pain that will not stop until you are thoroughly brutalized for the sins of your past and for your act of defiance against the king of the mountain himself. Violence will echo through the halls of the Pantheon and my brothers and sisters will watch from that locker room as I, Strike, step down onto the Earth and prove that I, Strike, am the righteous and mighty ruler of this Pantheon once again! THAT I, STRIKE, REIGN UPON THIS PANTHEON, THIS COMPANY AND THIS WORLD AS ITS GOD AND KING!
And you, Christian Kane...you are at my doorstep, challenging my supreme reign yet again...but this time? It won’t be like Vancouver three years ago where you took my most prized possession and knocked me right down to Earth, oh no...
This time I send you straight down to the depths of Hades himself before climbing the ladder and taking my championship back. This time, I shut up every single person on the planet who doubts that I’m walking out of this match without the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship around my waist. This time...I’ll be the one moving forward and changing professional wrestling for the better, all while you remain frozen in time and I make you remember the biggest difference between you and I, Strike...and it is quite simple:
Chris Strike was the one who made Christian Kane…
Christian Kane was never the one who made Chris Strike!”
He could faintly hear the orchestra playing inside of his head as it did in late November of 2013, days before he elbowed Christian Kane’s into oblivion before his sudden return as Interim Director of Operations in EXODUS Pro while Jonathan Collins went off to fight the good reverend. “Symposium Magarum” was that particular song in mind. Good tune. Haunting, fitting for the occasion yet again as he recalled his first words from that fateful day…
“Give me a place to STAND, and I shall move THE WORLD!”
And once again, he stood before them. No longer broken, but ascended into a different plane, back in the place he truly belonged, moving the wrestling world at his whim and condemning anyone else while attempting to stop him from reaching out and grabbing the future, shaping it accordingly in his own two hands.
Blinking, he observed the pendulums swinging once more…
Tick, tock, tick, tock...!
...time has begun to move again…
“At Battle Without Honor or Humanity, I will remind you of that grim reality and write the ending that this story should have had a long time ago. But fear not, Christian...because hope will not fade into obscurity that night…”
Finally, Chris Strike smiled.
“...just you!”
-----------------------------------
July 23, 2015
? ? ? ? ?
Blinking, I realized the directions to getting here to this same lobby were a lot harder to do while wide awake rather than in a deep sleep like the times beforehand. The blue furniture everywhere in the vicinity felt even more like a dream while in this state – be it the sofa, glass coffee table, carpet, and cabinet; all of it velvet and all of it far too real for words in this particular roundabout. I looked over to my left, making sure that Ophelia Hildegard - the woman known as “GOTHRA” to the wrestling world - at large was still there at my side and with the item in question in hands.
All that took was a look to my right and a reassuring nod from the short, young woman as we then made our way past the past reception table and to the same door that beckoned me so many times in the past few months. But before I could do it, Ophelia Hildegard grasped the door handle and swung the door open in a manner that meant both business and that would have taken somebody out immediately had they been in the object’s path. We stepped through it and this time, didn’t bother with closing it shut as we stepped into a different room, into the domain of a man who enjoyed his job far too much.
There was a long table placed in the center, with seats all around it; kind of like the ones in corporate meetings. Like in those sleepy nights, from top to bottom, the place was a hue of velvet blue including the carpet and the furniture. As I scanned the wall behind one particular table, just like before, there was no wall - just the metal grates you'd see in an old-fashioned lift as something continued to descend, as if this was an elevator, after all. That’s when my eyes darted to the man across the table, a deck of cards stacked up to his side and unlike before, a majority of those cards lying face up while some were still face down. I counted them, in fact. The number of cards face up didn’t match a specific number that came to mind.
“Ah, Chris...I’ve been expecting you for quite some time now...and you too, moth. How very nice to see you both. I assume everything has been well? I mean, I would guess, but you two have had this thing lately with hiding yourselves from Fate.”
But while Shinji Oshima sat across the table and looked like every bit of the smug bastard he’s always been, I had to contain the urge to smile right back at him. The Mark of Aquarius that Ophelia Hildegard possessed and its ability to hide any and all intentions of its user along with communicating them through the mind with telepathy kept Oshima from reading them like a book.
“Let’s not waste our time on pleasantries,” Ophelia said, interrupting any possible train of thought on my side and perhaps, interrupting Oshima from going on another tangent. “Noriaki Higashikata...”
“I know where you’re going with this and I don’t even need to know your Fate, moth,” Oshima replied, shaking his head. “His Fate has been determined. I cannot do anything for either of you. Moving on to important matt-”
“Noriaki...Higashikata,” I said, emphasizing what Ophelia Hildegard mentioned further. “We know, Oshima. We know what you did.”
“Well then certainly you know why I had to do it. Otherwise, Gemini wouldn’t be anywhere in the picture right now and our good friend Libra would still be having even crazier headaches than the ones of recent moment.” Oshima always had this thing about making every sentence he spoke sound like either an insult, a backhanded compliment or just snarky enough to get under your skin. “So, again, there’s really nothing I can do for y-”
To be fair, I’m not sure when exactly it was that Ophelia got rid of the cover for it...but the level of how quickly she unsheathed the sealed item and stepped forward, pointing it right at Shinji Oshima was at a speed I had not quite predicted yet. There was more to GOTHRA than what met the eye…which made me all that more glad that we struck the deal we did.
Also, I realized I should have brought a Polaroid for the look on Oshima’s face alone as he realized what was pointed at him: a sword. Ancient-looking by its sheath and the handle on it, but the blade outright shone even under the velvet lights...and it looked quite sharp, to boot.
“Where...did you get that…?” Oshima finally asked, after a brief moment of silence, his face having gone pale as he’s seen multiple ghosts of his past come out in one fell swoop. “...No, seriously, where? Do you two even have any faint idea how LONG I’ve been looking for my sword?”
“Your sword?” I asked.
“Yes, Chris. My sword,” Oshima replied, emphasizing the fact that we were apparently holding on to his property. “Literally been looking for it for eons now. I don’t assume you just found it lying on the street somewhere, now did you?”
Ophelia took another step forward, this time making sure the tip of the sword was inches away from going straight through Shinji Oshima’s chest. “I’m not going to ask again,” she uttered, a clear reminder of the same type of voice she seems to emanate when she’s under the kaiju suit as GOTHRA. “Noriaki Higashikata...bring him back to us...or else...”
Shinji stared at Ophelia with contemplation in his eyes, before taking his hands off the table and bringing them up, almost as if admitting some semblance of surrender. “Fine. I believe given what brought him to this state in the first place, it’s only fair to bring him back onto his original path without disturbing Fate all that much. But in return,” He eyed the sword in her hand. “My property. I want it back in my hands.” I caught the hint of a smile on his lips as he stared her down. “It’s only fair, after all…”
“Bring him back first.”
“Only after you give me my sword,” Oshima replied, the smile wide at this point.
I could see the struggle within Ophelia Hildegard as she held the sword. A part of her was shaking. Maybe it was anger, maybe it was wrestling with the decision of having to give up the sword and a chance to stick it to the man of the velvet room if it meant restoring someone she had grown so fond of back to his original, non-comatose state. Exhaling, I saw her hand relent, ready to put the sword down on the ground…
She wasn’t any type of killer after all. Outside of wrestling, I’m willing to bet she had never hurt a fly or squashed a bug if she could help it. Okay, maybe not that extreme level of kindness, but this was somebody who could empathize, somebody willing to compromise without pushing the limits if it meant getting a “fair” resolution.
Unfortunately for Shinji Oshima, I wasn’t as compassionate. And I sure as fuck knew the price of this sword far more than even Ophelia Hildegard could realize. It was only a matter of testing it. So I stepped forward, placing a hand on her right shoulder and looking down onto her.
“...You know what he’s done, Artemis.” Her eyes widen at that statement, turning back towards Shinji Oshima, as she breathes in and out, eyes narrowing in the process as her hand finally steadies. “Do unto him as he’s done unto all of us...”
“Wait, you can’t be s-”
“Just the tip now…”
Any and all things coming out of Shinji Oshima’s mouth come to a screeching halt as I see Ophelia do exactly as told…
Just the tip.
Right through Shinji Oshima’s shoulder.
The scream out of his mouth containing both surprise and agonizing pain are like a choir of angels singing me down to the ring. The sword’s tip digs further into his flesh as Ophelia presses it, the blood beginning to emerge from the wound itself - some of it caught onto the sword but most of it still remaining inside unless the blade is taken out. As the one known as GOTHRA held the sword and kept the pressure on it, I pulled my seat.
“Feel free to twist it if he tries anything funny,” I said to Ophelia, getting a nod from her before turning back to face Shinji. Now there was a look of a man who hadn’t seen this one coming...and he was furious about it. Good. “Now, let’s get to the heart of the matter, since we now know for sure this thing can actually hurt you to the point of death. First...you’re going to bring Tom Higashikata back onto his original path and make damn sure he wakes up. Immediately.”
Ophelia doesn’t hesitate to twist the sword, forcing another wince of agony out of the “Seer of the Paths” as to emphasize the point. Shinji briefly nods, a grumble mixed in with pain as he slowly reaches for the cards with his right hand, taking one of the face-down cards and flipping it from its sideways position back to where you can see its picture, before placing it vertically and tapping its center three times.
The Star card.
“It’s...it’s done,” Oshima whispered, exhaling. “Noriaki Higashikata will be waking up shortly. His path is set back to where it was before...but there will be consequenc-”
Another twist of the sword. “FFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-” Oshima screamed out, although no such thing as an echo seemed to exist within this particular velvet room, as Ophelia’s gaze indicated she would put the remainder of that sword through him if he dared do anything else other than the first part. “Fine! FINE! NO CONSEQUENCES! NOW WILL YOU PLEASE TAKE MY OWN SWORD OUT OF MY SHOULDER ALREADY?!?!”
“Not quite,” I replied, standing up and moving over towards Ophelia. “Go to the hospital. Make sure that Oshima made good on his promise. And if he didn’t? Come back here.”
“But what about the Mark? I can’t keep you under my protection and from reading you like a book unless I’m close by,” Ophelia replied.
I shook my head. “No need. Unlike most, I’m not afraid of this man. Plus, this is important to you and to a lot of people, isn’t it?” I ask. The nod from her head only confirms it. “Go. At this point, my Mark should give me enough to keep him at bay. Plus, there’s one more thing I need from him...”
Taking a hold of the handle of the sword from her, I watched as Ophelia let go of it and then ran as fast as she could towards the door. “I’ll keep the doors open for us,” she yelled out before disappearing from the room and from this realm in its entirety. I kept myself silent as my body told me to plunge that sword deeper into Shinji Oshima and put an end to all of this...and yet, I knew this man was still useful for the final pieces that I still needed in order to put the curse of these constellations away for eternity.
Ironic, given that it was the very Mark that Hal Synder put into me that was making sure Shinji Oshima didn’t send me into a Fate far, far worse than death itself like the one he had planned for Tom Higashikata. Like the one he’s probably planned for every single one of us bearing these accursed symbols.
“The second thing, Shinji...” I finally said. “Libra.”
“You already know who Libra is…” He coughed, sneering.
“But what I don’t know is why in the hell have his powers been going in and out at a moment’s whim over the past few months,” I leaned forward, still keeping the grip firm on the sword. “But you, being the almighty Seer that you are, probably know exactly what’s been going on. Which is ironic, given the fact you’re holding out on me when you wanted to awake him just as badly.”
“Believe me...urgh...I would have given you this one without my own property being put through me,” Shinji yelled back, defiantly. “There’s somebody who knows he can get the powers from little Cobalt by taking the kid’s blood.”
...Alright, that one I did not quite see coming.
“You fool,” Oshima replied, realizing exactly how I was at a loss at this particular discovery. “Have you not been reading up on the demon book from hell that fool Zinkus is still holding?”
“Not exactly as chummy with the lot anymore...that plus Reika disappears more often these days,” I remarked.
“Maybe you should be less of an asshol-”
I don’t let him complete the sentence, as I push the sword through a little further.
“...OOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!! GODDAMMIT!”
“So, we basically have someone close to the kid keeping him from awakening to his full potential? Great...juuuust dandy.” Sighing, I realized that this was going to be a problem. Especially because one wouldn’t just let their blood be drawn out intentionally to be put onto somebody else. Another distortion to handle before he could seal the damned things. “How close are they? The truth, unless you want me to go all the way through your shoulder with that sword.”
“They’re one big happy goddamned family, what do YOU think?” Oshima asked, annoyed. “Not every family is like your own, broken up and battered, you twisted son of a bitch!”
“The man who plays with people’s lives on a daily basis because he sees their Paths calling me twisted,” I sneer right back at him. “Now that is rich, my friend. But thanks to you, that’s one giant mystery solved. And I have an idea on how to proceed with getting the last of the twelve Marks ready to go.”
“Last?” Oshima asked, before breaking out into laughter which was followed by another wince because of his shoulder basically still being stabbed along with a fair amount of blood having been lost. “Not even close. Or have you already forgotten about Scorpio? Aries? Or Leo, even? Or the fact that Caldwell won’t go within fifty feet of you while he’s trying to remove the Taurus mark? God how thick can y-”
It is at that moment that Shinji Oshima’s eyes widened. The damn pain along with his usual omnipresent reach over the world and its Paths might have blinded him to it for so long that it didn’t hit him until now that I’d used GOTHRA’s Mark of Aquarius to keep his sights away from me for a very good reason.
“...You...what the hell have you been doing all this time your Path’s been hidden from me?!”
I grinned from ear-to-ear as the “Seer of the Paths” connected the pieces of the puzzle and as I heard a set of steps coming from the hallway into the fold.
“It took me a while and a whole of going under the radar along with Ophelia and their help, but now that we have the information at hand, I think...no, I know it’s time that you’ve personally met the last of my Argonauts, Shinji Oshima…”
A pair of men stepped into the room, joining me at my side as they looked unto the man in front of them. One of them taller than the other, younger, although a little more pale as if he was still not getting enough blood circulation to him while the other was shorter, bald, older and with a glance of a man who had seen far, far too much in his entire lifetime.
“You know Ryoma well, I hope,” I stated. “Probably seen into his Path one too many times over the years...and as for the other man? Well...I was as surprised as you when we found him...”
“It...can’t be…”
Shinji Oshima’s right hand ran through his hair and he looked like he needed a strong drink. Or twenty.
“YOU! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!!!!!!!!!”
I watched as Ryusei Arino finally turned his gaze upon the Seer of the Paths and he spoke, clear as day.
“。。。どのような権利によってオオカミがライオンを判断ありません。。。”
...By what right does the wolf judge the Lion...
San Diego, California
“...So, you’re finally here.”
“I warned you, didn’t I? That I would come back when the time was right.”
It wasn’t too long until she dug into her own purse, pulling out a few coins and some bills with it. The man across this particular, worn-down cart with its semblance of charm looked over it for a moment and his hands reached down, already knowing what would come next. This was a conversation that they explored almost one full month ago, given the aftermath of everything that happened to Noriaki a.k.a. Tom Higashikata when he stepped through the ropes to defend his friend’s honor against SHOZO. A series of unfortunate events that some could say Fate dictated, but that the two of them knew all too well what strings might have been pulled to lead it that way. Social media had its ways of connecting people and their mutual dislikes...and for these two, it couldn’t be any more fitting that this meeting took place at last.
“Spicy tuna, just like before?”
She nodded, watching as Takeru Yuusou brought out all the necessary ingredients in front of her and within two, maybe three minutes at most, got a half-dozen sushi rolls ready before putting them up on a small plate along with a glob of wasabi and some ginger right next to the rolls and handing them over along with a pair of chopsticks and an extra small bowl with some soy sauce.
“I’d have put them in one of the enclosed boxes, but we’re out,” Takeru sighed. “The booth barely breaks even and I have to keep feeding Explosivo energy drinks on top of it…”
Taking the cover off the chopsticks and breaking them at the top to divide them, Ophelia Hildegard a.k.a. GOTHRA placed the entirety of the wasabi within the soy sauce and mixed the two components carefully before grabbing one of the sushi pieces, dipping them into the brown liquid and letting it sink in for a moment before bringing the contents of the sushi into her mouth, chewing on it and savoring the flavor with each and every bite she took. Takeru couldn’t help but a small smile which fainted as he realized the other item of importance here. The very thing that had brought these two together outside of their workplace in (R)Evolution Wrestling. It wasn’t long before he reached under the cart again and placed something next to the counter where Ophelia had sat down and begun eating.
Not a moment sooner, Hildegard’s eyes lay upon the sheathed, large and wrapped up item placed in front of her. “Is this the one?”
Takeru nodded. “The bastard’s been after this thing for eons. It’s going to put the fear of God unto him the moment you take it out,” he commented. “But why in the world would you want it now, again? Much less to find a way of returning it right back to him...”
“Why haven’t you used it on him yourself if that’s been your true intention all along?” Ophelia asked, getting nothing more than silence and a stare for a comment that may or may not have crossed a few thin lines. “...Sorry.”
“No need to be,” Yuusou replied. “You were saying?”
“...There’s somebody’s Fate that needs to be changed back to its natural course...somebody whom he threw right into the whirlwind without any given reason to do it,” she stated. “We’re going to make him correct that distortion or so help me God, I will take what you’ve given me and put it right through his heart.”
“Well, that seems like someth-” Suddenly, a screeching halt in Takeru Yuusou’s train of thought as he asked the next obvious question. “What do you mean, we?”
“Don’t suppose the booth has space for one more, does it?”
Both Ophelia Hildegard and Takeru Yuusou look over to the unknown voice from a few feet away, as Yuusou’s eyes widen while Ophelia managed a small smile.
“You’re late. And we’ve got a lot to discuss,” she stated.
Chris Strike’s expression matched her own. “Then scoot over, moth, we’ve got a know-it-all bastard to nail,” Strike shot right back at her as he walked towards the cart, pulling up a seat and placing his hands on the wooden counter of the cart, looking at GOTHRA and making sure he had her undivided attention for this part. “Just remember your end of the bargain when we’re done with him.”
-----------------------------------
July 23, 2015
Las Vegas, Nevada
“Tick, tock...tick, tock…”
As the camera turns on its red light, we slowly showcase a wall filled with hundreds of quality antique clocks on each and every side, all in display, all hands synced together as the same exact time is shown in each and every one of them. As the shot widens, collectibles items, jewelry, home decor and much more are also on display in shelves, wide glass cases and some items are even boldly displayed on the top part of those cases and near the checkout counter. The store in question is “jjc Clocks & Antiques,” located in the heart of Las Vegas, Nevada - three and a half miles down from the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino where Battle Without Honor or Humanity II would happen in just a few days’ time. While normally just known as an antique shop where curious guests can wander in and out of and pick up a few rare goods, it was completely empty compared in this go-around. It all had something to do with the man arriving from stage left, decked out in a full fledged three-piece suit from Brioni, made out of his super luxurious Vanquish II fabric, which happens to use some of the rarest fibers in the world, including qiviuk, pashmina, and vicuna - not to mention, the stitching being made of white gold. Only one hundred of these suits are made a year and the clothier who makes them also happens to be the same one who makes suits for James Bond movies since 1995.
So, in short? The EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight champion’s one suit cost more than the entirety of Johnny Cannon’s booze cabinet.
This is all fine. But what looks even more fine is the shine emanating from the EXODUS Pro World championship that rests on Chris Strike’s right shoulder, as he keeps it held there with his right hand. The look on his face resembles that of a guy who had his daily intake of sugar to keep himself awake for the next few hours and of somebody who looked like he’d rather settle unfinished business before one of the biggest match of his career here and now instead of waiting until near showtime.
A race to the top to retrieve the greatest power one can hold in EXODUS Pro in the World title held across his shoulder. A ladder match between himself and his greatest challenger, where one man would make the climb to the mountain and stay there while the other would fall into the abyss.
This was the prelude to what would be the final chapter in perhaps the greatest rivalry of his entire career.
Tick, tock, tick, tock...
The countdown was upon them with each and every passing second…
And yet, time has stopped.
“Hate isn’t enough to describe my relationship with Christian Kane. Not anymore.”
His words were succinct, his posture didn’t dare change even though emotions stirred inside of him every time that his nemesis’ name was uttered, every time that he even gave it thought. Their history was a long one, none of it was pretty and in Chris Strike’s case, it was enough to bring forth a bubbling level of rage that he has never quite felt for any other human being on the face of this planet. It’s the kind of thing that led him to take the shiny gold he cherishes so much and use it as a battering ram against Christian Kane’s skull months ago. It’s why he revelled so much on how psychologically hurt the vile piece of humanity - who spoke countless times about taking his championship in decisive fashion - couldn’t pull it off at “The War Isn’t Over Yet” iPPV due to the time limit in the match itself. It’s why he was overjoyed when he won his second EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight title while Christian Kane saw the girlfriend he cheated on screw him out of his precious International title and hand it to Justin Brooks on a silver basket.
For you see, schadenfreude at Christian Kane’s expense would never get old, even after this chapter of their lives was long concluded.
“Given how long we have done this whole song and dance, we've seen each other at different times of our lives, different circumstances. And yet, between us? Nothing much has changed,” Chris Strike stated, rolling his eyes at the following train of thought that his enemy has been practically dick-riding for months now since interrupting him after he reclaimed the EXODUS Pro World title for his own in Japan. “Even if you argue until you’re blue in the face about how I’m the liar and the deceiver here and that you’ve been right all along for all these years while you’ve been capable of change.”
Strike shrugged his shoulders, not exactly denying any of these claims because he didn’t really have the time to waste his breath on such accusations. Much less with them coming from a crowd consisted of a generation that wanted instant gratification and who barely even gave a damn about professional wrestling until EXODUS Pro started handing out tickets to the UCSD campus on the basis that they needed SOMEWHERE to run their shows after all.
“In a way, it's funny to see him trying to win a crowd this desperately, because over the years, time has proven that it's about anything but the wrestling for him. It has shown us that unless he's getting paid a ridiculous amount of money to be mediocre or has a belt practically handed to him in a silver basket or doesn't have all twenty of his fuck buddies on payroll that he becomes nothing short of a whiny bitch. The more that time goes by, the more Christian Kane will try to tell the world that he was a bad person, that he will never try to justify the things he’s done to so many in this business. He’ll admit to all you sheep that he has a problem, that change is a slow and arduous process but that at the end, he gave myself unto the people and now, he’s proud to be their New Hope.”
He scoffs at the very notion of the moniker. The New Hope. Nothing more than a catchphrase with some nerd credibility for the Star Wars aficionados around the world to buy into the illusion that Christian Kane was one of their own when his entire career was built on acting like he was the one percenter compared to the other ninety-nine. He hadn’t seen this level of shameless pandering since Black Jones campaigning to get himself on the main roster months ago to then burn out like a comet.
“And yet, this is the same man who will take to social media and still continue to mock people using both racial and sexual slurs at will, who will shame them if they so much as exact their just revenge on him whether verbally or physically like Ms. Sullivan did months ago. This is the same man who will claim that he is about the people with the microphone in his hands while the cameras are rolling and then threaten to leave the company entirely backstage and through social media unless he sees another pay raise...y’know, when he barely has managed to do anything in EXODUS other than be the first one to find out that Lexy Chapel’s chin is actually softer than his own set of morals. This is the exact same excrement of a human being who once claimed to be the modern-day Jesus Christ of professional wrestling, coming out in a cross and all but who is still scared shitless of anything that resembles the word commitment - something he now claims to have suddenly found as if he stumbled onto an oasis while wandering the goddamned Mojave for a decade. I mean, what’s next? Going to claim that you’ll lead EXODUS past the Red Sea like Moses did, since you’re such a revolutionary leader and role model now?
See, I want to take this whole perception that Christian Kane’s been feeding the world about being some sort of conquering hero and a champion that they deserve and I’d like to put a railroad spike through it - wouldn’t be the first time doing that. Because contrary to whatever Kane may be trying so hard to sell you all on over the past few months, my dearly beloved sheep...he is still very much the same chauvinistic, foul-mouthed, cocky, pathetic worm of a human being that he has always been. The only difference is that he found the one wrestling company and crowd on the planet that's willing to jerk him off on the basis of his wrestling talent and the #STUDLIFE debaucherous lifestyle that he has come to embody. You can all call him Dr. Dick all you want, but it won’t be as amusing to your precious little cheeks when he finds a way to fuck you all over without the courtesy of any lube.”
And of course, it would all eventually come back to the EXODUS Pro crowd - the majority of it comprised of college hipsters who barely gave two shits about wrestling until Rufus Frost, Jonathan Collins, Nicholas Gray and company rolled the shitty, stained red carpet and like moths to the flame, they came along for the ride...of course, to only eventually claim they knew everything about professional wrestling and to make the simple determination that anything that didn’t fit their skewed narrative was not worthy of their attention, let alone to stand in a ring that they would likely dare to call their own. In a way, the World champion was starting to get part of the reason they hate Chuck Matthews so much when he was trying to take over the company. Because he would have moved the EXODUS Pro brand as far away from the small-time arenas as fast as humanly possible, making it so that the voices that echoed so loudly across the RIMAC week in and week out feel like whispers in NHL and NBA capable stadiums...thus, bringing forth their greatest fears and rendering them as the minority they truly are.
But fortunately for the hipster douchebags, this particular chapter isn’t about them. So the champion decided to move on to the heart of the matter.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
Chris Strike saw the wall in front of him and those same old clocks with their pendulums swinging in timely form. Yet, time was frozen...
“For a guy who literally told me once that wrestling was a dying artform and that you’d partake in improving it no longer, you’re surprisingly...still good at it? It’s left me rather dumbfounded in a way, Christian. It amazed me that you took me to the limit for thirty minutes at The War Isn’t Over Yet. Some will point out that perhaps time changed your perspective on the subject matter. But I, Strike, know that isn’t quite the case. Your record of backtracking over the years is something Britney Spears wishes she could replicate in order to make us forget all about 2004 through 2007 of her life. But understanding you the way that I, Strike, know you...well, it’s out of pure spite that you still keep doing this. It’s not because you wish to be anyone’s superior or to claim multiple accolades and leave your own mark in the wrestling business. It’s because you wish to be my superior in every way, shape and form. You will likely deny this truth until the moment you go six feet under but in fact, isn’t that how it all ended up starting in the first place?
2008, in Pro Wrestling FIRE...you tried to make a mark but nearly flamed out to that point of no return on a booze and pill binge, while I returned from a prolonged absence from the ring to push Noble-Hart to the limit along with Lyn Dallins plus claimed the company’s first and last World Cup tournament, very likely on my way to challenge Jack Benevolence for the gold before the company went up in flames.
2009 to 2010, in that abysmal cesspool known as Universal Wrestling League...I claimed its World Heavyweight championship by beating the so-called ‘unbeatable’ Tic Tic and put that company on my back while taking it on a journey to the Western United States...and you won the title long after me in an attempt to emulate my reign and then proceeded to lose it in embarrassing fashion to Cory Tyler, of all people.
Some minor coincidences, you can argue. But it’s in 2012 where the pictures becomes clearer. For it was at the time where my success in Sex & Violence Wrestling had led me to winning its Defiance championship, which I held and defended against anybody put in front of me. It was in the middle of that reign that you resurfaced into my life, Christian Kane...and proceeded to basically wreck it. The fake-outs, the attempts at acting like you had an affair with my then-girlfriend, the actress you hired to look like my wife when you trying to get to Jo failed miserably, the constant digs at my family, my country, my heritage, my friends - all of the psychological warfare you employ with just about everyone these days - and last but certainly not least? The wrench you took to my knee repeatedly until I passed out from the pain and the championship you took from me.”
In the world of professional wrestling, you were always bound to experience both the highest of highs and lowest of lows. But as the incident of the SVW Defiance Championship match in Vancouver, BC on August 26, 2012 was the worst loss that the EXODUS Pro World champion has ever experienced in his career. The most humiliating of the bunch and worse, the one that eventually broke him both in a physical and mental capacity. All done at the hands of one single man that nearly three years later was still there, ready to haunt him and once again take something away from him…
Tick, tock, tick, tock...
The pendulum of the ancient clocks on the wall may swing in pure synchronized fashion but as he recalled the incident, to Chris Strike, it almost felt as if time had stopped as he forced himself to bear through those memories again with clinched teeth and a mental state that betrayed what the cameras saw holding the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship.
But yet, while those same pendulums kept things in proportion and moved on, time was frozen...
“You didn’t just take a title back then. You took a year out of my life, Christian Kane. A goddamned year. You made me feel the same emptiness and pain that you claim to have experienced for years before our very first one-on-one encounter like you meant to, while reminding me of the deaths of my family without any shred of regret. In fact, you reveled in it, calling yourself a God Slayer and everything under the sun. That’s how you made your name, Christian Kane. That’s how you became the big money player who can demand to be grossly overpaid any time you throw a tantrum. That’s how you became infamous in this industry.
Because you broke Chris Strike.
Because you slayed a God in this industry.”
At long last, some semblance of emotion escapes from within the mental turmoil and showcases itself to the cameras and the world as they notice his left hand having balled into a fist already, white knuckles and all from how hard Chris Strike clenched on to it.
“That’s not something that just heals with time. That’s not something somebody goes out of their way to forget. Because on August 26, 2012, you solidified the reality that you and I would be enemies for the rest of our days. You said it yourself that the war wasn’t over between you and I, Strike, and you were right. I, Strike, had not quite finished exacting the divine punishment upon you that you are and always will be deserving of for as long as you breathe. Which leads me back to the point, Christian Kane. Ever since we met, every time that I have stepped into a wrestling company, you were right there trying to emulate exactly what I’ve done and to do so at the expense of I, Strike. History doesn’t lie, Christian. Because nearly three years to the date, here you are once again, daring to defy I, Strike, and most importantly, daring to take something away from my possession and my being yet again.
Not because you want to give the good people of EXODUS Pro a champion they deserve, not because you want to live up to your asinine title of The New Hope and show you’ve truly changed…
But because you want to take something away from me yet again.
Because you want to show the world at large that somehow, someway, you’ve always been better than Chris Strike. Because your inferiority complex to me is so gigantic that it has gotten to the point where you need to beat I, Strike, at each and every given opportunity. It’s been like that ever since 2008 and it hasn’t changed one bit. No matter what happens, you are always there, chasing my back at any given turn...hell, in a way, it’s almost admirable. It shows that maybe you can be tenacious, maybe even determined to do everything and anything under your power to make sure I cannot climb the ladder to retrieve my championship at Battle Without Honor or Humanity. But therein lies your greatest problem, Christian Kane...and the reason why you have not been able to beat me ever since I came back from the knee your nearly tore.
You’re frozen in time, Christian...and you can’t move on until you beat I, Strike, into a bloody pulp and once again, take away something that is mine! You can’t move on with life until you’ve humiliated me yet again and the only difference now is that you have a front office and a bunch of sheep cheering you on to do it, salivating at the fairy tail ending they’ve been longing for ever since Abby Park got thrown into irrelevance by yours truly.”
Frozen in time…frozen in the same manner that the current, two-time EXODUS Pro World champion was for nearly a year, reliving his injury and most shameful moment at the hands of his opponent over and over again...frozen in time in the exact same manner as Chris Strike had been for nearly three years after his wife and children’s abrupt passing, not being able to even dare take a step forward for the fear of tripping over his feet, falling onto his face and never being able to pick himself back up again.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
Frozen like he is right now, recalling the past in order to remember what he needs to do in order to see his future take place...
He moved on from that fear once, thought he left it all behind and yet...there it was, ready, willing and more than able to throw him back into that same abyss once again. For in order to move forward from the frozen time, Christian Kane’s fragile little psyche needed to pass on his own accursed insecurities and fears onto something else to even dare move forward from the frozen time. A cursed man desperately trying to latch onto something with enough stability in order to claim he is everything that he says. That something was the EXODUS Pro World title in this scenario, just like it had been the SVW Defiance title nearly three years ago.
“...Not again…” he finally uttered, after moments of silence. “...never...again...”
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
The pendulums swung rapidly, in sync and now, they weren’t the only thing that kept Chris Strike at the moment from returning onto another set of recollections from the past...
“Never again will you use I, Strike, as your stepping stone again, Christian Kane. Never again will I, Strike, be your personal example to prove that every bit of bullshit that has been spewed out of your mouth is the truth. You will not take away the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship that I, Strike, have fought tooth and nail for, a championship you would screw me out of at a moment’s whim if you actually held any semblance of power around here before suspending me indefinitely - like you did after the last Battle Without Honor or Humanity in Japan last year. But in this sequel, Christian Kane? I, Strike, will have neither honor nor humanity to offer you. All I will have to offer is the same thing you have suffered at my hand time...and time again:
Pain. Unearthly, agonizing pain.
A pain that you would dare cause upon me time and time again and that I will return unto you one hundred times over. A pain that will not stop until you are thoroughly brutalized for the sins of your past and for your act of defiance against the king of the mountain himself. Violence will echo through the halls of the Pantheon and my brothers and sisters will watch from that locker room as I, Strike, step down onto the Earth and prove that I, Strike, am the righteous and mighty ruler of this Pantheon once again! THAT I, STRIKE, REIGN UPON THIS PANTHEON, THIS COMPANY AND THIS WORLD AS ITS GOD AND KING!
And you, Christian Kane...you are at my doorstep, challenging my supreme reign yet again...but this time? It won’t be like Vancouver three years ago where you took my most prized possession and knocked me right down to Earth, oh no...
This time I send you straight down to the depths of Hades himself before climbing the ladder and taking my championship back. This time, I shut up every single person on the planet who doubts that I’m walking out of this match without the EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight championship around my waist. This time...I’ll be the one moving forward and changing professional wrestling for the better, all while you remain frozen in time and I make you remember the biggest difference between you and I, Strike...and it is quite simple:
Chris Strike was the one who made Christian Kane…
Christian Kane was never the one who made Chris Strike!”
He could faintly hear the orchestra playing inside of his head as it did in late November of 2013, days before he elbowed Christian Kane’s into oblivion before his sudden return as Interim Director of Operations in EXODUS Pro while Jonathan Collins went off to fight the good reverend. “Symposium Magarum” was that particular song in mind. Good tune. Haunting, fitting for the occasion yet again as he recalled his first words from that fateful day…
“Give me a place to STAND, and I shall move THE WORLD!”
And once again, he stood before them. No longer broken, but ascended into a different plane, back in the place he truly belonged, moving the wrestling world at his whim and condemning anyone else while attempting to stop him from reaching out and grabbing the future, shaping it accordingly in his own two hands.
Blinking, he observed the pendulums swinging once more…
Tick, tock, tick, tock...!
...time has begun to move again…
“At Battle Without Honor or Humanity, I will remind you of that grim reality and write the ending that this story should have had a long time ago. But fear not, Christian...because hope will not fade into obscurity that night…”
Finally, Chris Strike smiled.
“...just you!”
-----------------------------------
July 23, 2015
? ? ? ? ?
Blinking, I realized the directions to getting here to this same lobby were a lot harder to do while wide awake rather than in a deep sleep like the times beforehand. The blue furniture everywhere in the vicinity felt even more like a dream while in this state – be it the sofa, glass coffee table, carpet, and cabinet; all of it velvet and all of it far too real for words in this particular roundabout. I looked over to my left, making sure that Ophelia Hildegard - the woman known as “GOTHRA” to the wrestling world - at large was still there at my side and with the item in question in hands.
All that took was a look to my right and a reassuring nod from the short, young woman as we then made our way past the past reception table and to the same door that beckoned me so many times in the past few months. But before I could do it, Ophelia Hildegard grasped the door handle and swung the door open in a manner that meant both business and that would have taken somebody out immediately had they been in the object’s path. We stepped through it and this time, didn’t bother with closing it shut as we stepped into a different room, into the domain of a man who enjoyed his job far too much.
There was a long table placed in the center, with seats all around it; kind of like the ones in corporate meetings. Like in those sleepy nights, from top to bottom, the place was a hue of velvet blue including the carpet and the furniture. As I scanned the wall behind one particular table, just like before, there was no wall - just the metal grates you'd see in an old-fashioned lift as something continued to descend, as if this was an elevator, after all. That’s when my eyes darted to the man across the table, a deck of cards stacked up to his side and unlike before, a majority of those cards lying face up while some were still face down. I counted them, in fact. The number of cards face up didn’t match a specific number that came to mind.
“Ah, Chris...I’ve been expecting you for quite some time now...and you too, moth. How very nice to see you both. I assume everything has been well? I mean, I would guess, but you two have had this thing lately with hiding yourselves from Fate.”
But while Shinji Oshima sat across the table and looked like every bit of the smug bastard he’s always been, I had to contain the urge to smile right back at him. The Mark of Aquarius that Ophelia Hildegard possessed and its ability to hide any and all intentions of its user along with communicating them through the mind with telepathy kept Oshima from reading them like a book.
“Let’s not waste our time on pleasantries,” Ophelia said, interrupting any possible train of thought on my side and perhaps, interrupting Oshima from going on another tangent. “Noriaki Higashikata...”
“I know where you’re going with this and I don’t even need to know your Fate, moth,” Oshima replied, shaking his head. “His Fate has been determined. I cannot do anything for either of you. Moving on to important matt-”
“Noriaki...Higashikata,” I said, emphasizing what Ophelia Hildegard mentioned further. “We know, Oshima. We know what you did.”
“Well then certainly you know why I had to do it. Otherwise, Gemini wouldn’t be anywhere in the picture right now and our good friend Libra would still be having even crazier headaches than the ones of recent moment.” Oshima always had this thing about making every sentence he spoke sound like either an insult, a backhanded compliment or just snarky enough to get under your skin. “So, again, there’s really nothing I can do for y-”
To be fair, I’m not sure when exactly it was that Ophelia got rid of the cover for it...but the level of how quickly she unsheathed the sealed item and stepped forward, pointing it right at Shinji Oshima was at a speed I had not quite predicted yet. There was more to GOTHRA than what met the eye…which made me all that more glad that we struck the deal we did.
Also, I realized I should have brought a Polaroid for the look on Oshima’s face alone as he realized what was pointed at him: a sword. Ancient-looking by its sheath and the handle on it, but the blade outright shone even under the velvet lights...and it looked quite sharp, to boot.
“Where...did you get that…?” Oshima finally asked, after a brief moment of silence, his face having gone pale as he’s seen multiple ghosts of his past come out in one fell swoop. “...No, seriously, where? Do you two even have any faint idea how LONG I’ve been looking for my sword?”
“Your sword?” I asked.
“Yes, Chris. My sword,” Oshima replied, emphasizing the fact that we were apparently holding on to his property. “Literally been looking for it for eons now. I don’t assume you just found it lying on the street somewhere, now did you?”
Ophelia took another step forward, this time making sure the tip of the sword was inches away from going straight through Shinji Oshima’s chest. “I’m not going to ask again,” she uttered, a clear reminder of the same type of voice she seems to emanate when she’s under the kaiju suit as GOTHRA. “Noriaki Higashikata...bring him back to us...or else...”
Shinji stared at Ophelia with contemplation in his eyes, before taking his hands off the table and bringing them up, almost as if admitting some semblance of surrender. “Fine. I believe given what brought him to this state in the first place, it’s only fair to bring him back onto his original path without disturbing Fate all that much. But in return,” He eyed the sword in her hand. “My property. I want it back in my hands.” I caught the hint of a smile on his lips as he stared her down. “It’s only fair, after all…”
“Bring him back first.”
“Only after you give me my sword,” Oshima replied, the smile wide at this point.
I could see the struggle within Ophelia Hildegard as she held the sword. A part of her was shaking. Maybe it was anger, maybe it was wrestling with the decision of having to give up the sword and a chance to stick it to the man of the velvet room if it meant restoring someone she had grown so fond of back to his original, non-comatose state. Exhaling, I saw her hand relent, ready to put the sword down on the ground…
She wasn’t any type of killer after all. Outside of wrestling, I’m willing to bet she had never hurt a fly or squashed a bug if she could help it. Okay, maybe not that extreme level of kindness, but this was somebody who could empathize, somebody willing to compromise without pushing the limits if it meant getting a “fair” resolution.
Unfortunately for Shinji Oshima, I wasn’t as compassionate. And I sure as fuck knew the price of this sword far more than even Ophelia Hildegard could realize. It was only a matter of testing it. So I stepped forward, placing a hand on her right shoulder and looking down onto her.
“...You know what he’s done, Artemis.” Her eyes widen at that statement, turning back towards Shinji Oshima, as she breathes in and out, eyes narrowing in the process as her hand finally steadies. “Do unto him as he’s done unto all of us...”
“Wait, you can’t be s-”
“Just the tip now…”
Any and all things coming out of Shinji Oshima’s mouth come to a screeching halt as I see Ophelia do exactly as told…
Just the tip.
Right through Shinji Oshima’s shoulder.
The scream out of his mouth containing both surprise and agonizing pain are like a choir of angels singing me down to the ring. The sword’s tip digs further into his flesh as Ophelia presses it, the blood beginning to emerge from the wound itself - some of it caught onto the sword but most of it still remaining inside unless the blade is taken out. As the one known as GOTHRA held the sword and kept the pressure on it, I pulled my seat.
“Feel free to twist it if he tries anything funny,” I said to Ophelia, getting a nod from her before turning back to face Shinji. Now there was a look of a man who hadn’t seen this one coming...and he was furious about it. Good. “Now, let’s get to the heart of the matter, since we now know for sure this thing can actually hurt you to the point of death. First...you’re going to bring Tom Higashikata back onto his original path and make damn sure he wakes up. Immediately.”
Ophelia doesn’t hesitate to twist the sword, forcing another wince of agony out of the “Seer of the Paths” as to emphasize the point. Shinji briefly nods, a grumble mixed in with pain as he slowly reaches for the cards with his right hand, taking one of the face-down cards and flipping it from its sideways position back to where you can see its picture, before placing it vertically and tapping its center three times.
The Star card.
“It’s...it’s done,” Oshima whispered, exhaling. “Noriaki Higashikata will be waking up shortly. His path is set back to where it was before...but there will be consequenc-”
Another twist of the sword. “FFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-” Oshima screamed out, although no such thing as an echo seemed to exist within this particular velvet room, as Ophelia’s gaze indicated she would put the remainder of that sword through him if he dared do anything else other than the first part. “Fine! FINE! NO CONSEQUENCES! NOW WILL YOU PLEASE TAKE MY OWN SWORD OUT OF MY SHOULDER ALREADY?!?!”
“Not quite,” I replied, standing up and moving over towards Ophelia. “Go to the hospital. Make sure that Oshima made good on his promise. And if he didn’t? Come back here.”
“But what about the Mark? I can’t keep you under my protection and from reading you like a book unless I’m close by,” Ophelia replied.
I shook my head. “No need. Unlike most, I’m not afraid of this man. Plus, this is important to you and to a lot of people, isn’t it?” I ask. The nod from her head only confirms it. “Go. At this point, my Mark should give me enough to keep him at bay. Plus, there’s one more thing I need from him...”
Taking a hold of the handle of the sword from her, I watched as Ophelia let go of it and then ran as fast as she could towards the door. “I’ll keep the doors open for us,” she yelled out before disappearing from the room and from this realm in its entirety. I kept myself silent as my body told me to plunge that sword deeper into Shinji Oshima and put an end to all of this...and yet, I knew this man was still useful for the final pieces that I still needed in order to put the curse of these constellations away for eternity.
Ironic, given that it was the very Mark that Hal Synder put into me that was making sure Shinji Oshima didn’t send me into a Fate far, far worse than death itself like the one he had planned for Tom Higashikata. Like the one he’s probably planned for every single one of us bearing these accursed symbols.
“The second thing, Shinji...” I finally said. “Libra.”
“You already know who Libra is…” He coughed, sneering.
“But what I don’t know is why in the hell have his powers been going in and out at a moment’s whim over the past few months,” I leaned forward, still keeping the grip firm on the sword. “But you, being the almighty Seer that you are, probably know exactly what’s been going on. Which is ironic, given the fact you’re holding out on me when you wanted to awake him just as badly.”
“Believe me...urgh...I would have given you this one without my own property being put through me,” Shinji yelled back, defiantly. “There’s somebody who knows he can get the powers from little Cobalt by taking the kid’s blood.”
...Alright, that one I did not quite see coming.
“You fool,” Oshima replied, realizing exactly how I was at a loss at this particular discovery. “Have you not been reading up on the demon book from hell that fool Zinkus is still holding?”
“Not exactly as chummy with the lot anymore...that plus Reika disappears more often these days,” I remarked.
“Maybe you should be less of an asshol-”
I don’t let him complete the sentence, as I push the sword through a little further.
“...OOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!! GODDAMMIT!”
“So, we basically have someone close to the kid keeping him from awakening to his full potential? Great...juuuust dandy.” Sighing, I realized that this was going to be a problem. Especially because one wouldn’t just let their blood be drawn out intentionally to be put onto somebody else. Another distortion to handle before he could seal the damned things. “How close are they? The truth, unless you want me to go all the way through your shoulder with that sword.”
“They’re one big happy goddamned family, what do YOU think?” Oshima asked, annoyed. “Not every family is like your own, broken up and battered, you twisted son of a bitch!”
“The man who plays with people’s lives on a daily basis because he sees their Paths calling me twisted,” I sneer right back at him. “Now that is rich, my friend. But thanks to you, that’s one giant mystery solved. And I have an idea on how to proceed with getting the last of the twelve Marks ready to go.”
“Last?” Oshima asked, before breaking out into laughter which was followed by another wince because of his shoulder basically still being stabbed along with a fair amount of blood having been lost. “Not even close. Or have you already forgotten about Scorpio? Aries? Or Leo, even? Or the fact that Caldwell won’t go within fifty feet of you while he’s trying to remove the Taurus mark? God how thick can y-”
It is at that moment that Shinji Oshima’s eyes widened. The damn pain along with his usual omnipresent reach over the world and its Paths might have blinded him to it for so long that it didn’t hit him until now that I’d used GOTHRA’s Mark of Aquarius to keep his sights away from me for a very good reason.
“...You...what the hell have you been doing all this time your Path’s been hidden from me?!”
I grinned from ear-to-ear as the “Seer of the Paths” connected the pieces of the puzzle and as I heard a set of steps coming from the hallway into the fold.
“It took me a while and a whole of going under the radar along with Ophelia and their help, but now that we have the information at hand, I think...no, I know it’s time that you’ve personally met the last of my Argonauts, Shinji Oshima…”
A pair of men stepped into the room, joining me at my side as they looked unto the man in front of them. One of them taller than the other, younger, although a little more pale as if he was still not getting enough blood circulation to him while the other was shorter, bald, older and with a glance of a man who had seen far, far too much in his entire lifetime.
“You know Ryoma well, I hope,” I stated. “Probably seen into his Path one too many times over the years...and as for the other man? Well...I was as surprised as you when we found him...”
“It...can’t be…”
Shinji Oshima’s right hand ran through his hair and he looked like he needed a strong drink. Or twenty.
“YOU! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!!!!!!!!!”
I watched as Ryusei Arino finally turned his gaze upon the Seer of the Paths and he spoke, clear as day.
“。。。どのような権利によってオオカミがライオンを判断ありません。。。”
...By what right does the wolf judge the Lion...
