The Magician's Final Act

My surroundings became clearer as I sat in utter silence. I was in an airport hangar, surrounding me were small airplanes, none of which looked functional in the slightest. I was bound by rope on my knees facing away from my captor. Niles had ambushed me while our contract agency was about to carry out a hit on an innocent population to try to start a conflict.

“What? Why did you do this? You’re going to get us both killed, are you insane?”

“Don’t you see, Dathyn? Are you blind? We are the executioners for those who play God without permission. We are hitmen, mercs, assassins, even terrorists. Worthless. I am trying to save you from this life you’ve chosen, you can do good, Dathyn, I see a light in you.”

I too saw a light, or lights rather, the glaring floaters which were the fruits of Niles’ labor. “You and I have very different definitions of the word ‘save.’ When they find out that we deserted-”

“They won’t.” Niles raised his finger to my lips before I could finish my sentence. Despite his extreme sense of confidence, I wasn’t necessarily believing that two hired guns, both with gallons of human blood on their hands and intelligence that could be used to topple any government can just get up and leave without a trace. Even if we went unaccounted for, who’s to say that we won’t be found?

“I had the warehouse set on fire and left two burn victim bodies left there. They’ll catch on eventually, however, it is enough time for us to escape and prepare. You can either come with me, or I can shoot you here. I’m going to Japan, I have associates there that will help me with my plan. It’s your call.” Pressing the cold gun to my skull, Niles smiled as I inhaled; knowing that any second could be my next. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhaling, I free myself from the binds of my captor and kick him in the temple, grabbing the loaded weapon in the process. He lumbers towards me, but I know that I have him surprised. Typically, I’d give him the edge in hand to hand combat, however, I outthought him. In one violent thrust, I kick him in the stomach after missing a backhand. The kick brings him to his knees and I press the gun to his head. “So much as flinch and I send a bullet through your skull, and I will make sure that you have the slowest, most agonizing death.”

“You got out of my bindings; you may be of more use to me after all, magician. You’re quite the escape artist.” I’ll give this fucker something to escape. I kicked him once again, only because my head hurt and I was moderately annoyed that I didn’t get to shoot an innocent person. “Why should I come with you? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right now. Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t turn you in and watch our brotherhood play ‘how many fingers can Niles fit inside himself?’”

“Because…you and I will be the first to achieve immortality.”

They say that evading death is an impossible feat, even for the greatest magician. It would be a challenge that I would graciously accept.

--

The aroma fresh cut roses filled my nasal cavities; perhaps it is experience (far too much) or perhaps it is a heightened sense of smell, but I can tell the difference between the scents of different colored roses. I hated them all equally. Roses to me symbolize death. For many, they associate roses with first dates, recitals and romantic experiences. I’m not sure if many know this, but I’m not a ‘first date’ sort of dude. Chivalry died along with my innocence, decades ago. 

Soggy ground conforming to the soles of my feet, I pressed forward, passing many families mourning and celebrating the death of their beloved. There was a slight drizzle which dampened my suit whenever I shifted my shoulder out of the protective range of my umbrella. 

Coming off of the greatest win of my Visionaries of Wrestling tenure and heading into my greatest battle, I was excited, well, as much as I could be. Some men spend their entire lives avoiding battles and avoiding confrontation, I choose to do the opposite. Death is an inevitable fate for even myself. I may be able to prolong death using my chemical compound and by being as well equipped to combat ‘less natural’ forms of death. I’ve had years of experience in multiple martial arts consisting of weaponry and hand to hand combat. With my physical, mental and financial ability, I will be around a long time.

So why am I excited? Defeating Cameron was quite an enjoyable experience. The sound of his face thudding off the mat and the feeling of victory as I pinned down his lifeless carcass was almost orgasmic. Many individuals wouldn’t have given me a chance in a match against VOW’s resident boogieman. But for a man who has lived as long as myself, and has evaded death along the way? He is no more intimidating than the likes of Reya Serra, who also suffered the unfortunate fate of finding herself on the opposing side of the ring as me. 

Evading death is actually not strong enough of a term. I don’t only flirt with death, I straight on penetrate it. Death and I have come to an understanding with one another. I pay tribute to it with how many men, women and children die due to the working conditions in my company. I pay tribute to death by taking out hits to make extra money. The compound I use is not a cheap solution.

I had also captured Cera. I tied her up to prove a point. No – not that I recently watched 50 Shades of Grey – but that I could have killed, dismembered or tortured her if I chose. But instead, I chose to speak to her, to try to show her the light. I tried to find room in my heart to accept her and help her become a better person. I gave her the opportunity to make actual change in this world. She coasts through life meaninglessly torturing others for her sick amusement. I want to allow her to be a part of something bigger – bigger than her, bigger than me, bigger than VOW. But she was resistant, so perhaps I will have to beat some sense into her. 

As I place the roses at the woman’s grave, I can’t help but notice the difference in demeanor between now and when I first came here. Upon my first visit, I was a boy. I was weak, emotional and reckless. I was not the man that I was, I lacked conviction and was nothing – I merely existed. I was not living – just surviving.

Now? I am a man. I’m not just a man, I am an immortal, a God among mere men. I have used conviction, pain and passion to fuel a dream. I dream of a world where injustice doesn’t exist. I dream of a world where poverty, war and famine were mere memories, where they were drops of rain in an ocean of justice. This dream will come to fruition, no matter how many lives I must sacrifice to fuel it.

Who was this woman? Well, she was my wife. Her name was Katrina, she was the love of my life. We had met when I first came to the United States. I came here, a desperate man, a man looking to erase all traces of himself. I wanted to live as a ghost. I had stolen the formula, and I had believed myself to be a savior of humanity. Katrina was the only person I was able to confide in. She was the daughter of a not-so-respected preacher in the small town we lived in, I was an auto-mechanic – off the grid and rouge. I remember when I first laid eyes on her, how naturally beautiful she was. Her facial structure and body were modest, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever or will ever be with. Her and I remained together for around a decade. She was strong, had self respect and pushed me to be the best that I could be. And that is what led to her demise.

I often speculate if it was the work of Niles, taking revenge upon me, or just the work of the cruel entity known as fate. Katrina was taken from me, rendered from my beautiful beloved to no more than a pincushion. She was stabbed four times through the chest and once across the throat, the work of an amateur. You didn’t have to be a detective to locate him, which is what I did.

“I’m glad you showed up. I was beginning to think that you had lacked reasonability, which is why we are in this situation.” Turning around, my eyes fall upon another former lover of mine, the Jen Ryette. This past week, I had reached out to her to try to set up a meeting. She is Cera’s greatest ally, and if nothing else, I can use her to get into Cera’s head. I have high hopes for Jen, she is receptive and personable, I believe that she can change Cera’s mind.

“I don’t know if I should call ‘ya Judaskins or not, but why’d ‘ya want this meetin’?” Jen impatiently tapped the toes of her feet against the soft ground. A grin curls on my face as I glance upwards and then back down at Jen.

“I’ll cut right to the point, seeing as both of us are not revered for our patience. I am hoping that you can see what should be apparent to Cera, but isn’t due to Cera’s blinding hatred for me. I am hoping that you see my overall goal as a lesser of two evils. And I am hoping that you persuade Cera to join forces with me, as to eliminate the prospect of me persuading Cera myself. Because as you already know, I can give Cera many great incentives to help me.”

A giggle is released from Jen, I’m unsure whether it was involuntary or not. “She ain’t scared of ‘ya, silly boo!” I know. Cera fears nothing, making her the most valuable ally I could ask for. She does not fear death, many could argue that she begs for it. All of the violence – it is a cry for help. And I can help her. I’m not looking for a side kick; I’m looking for an equal. And Cera may be the only person who is able to fill those shoes. Her lack of fear is a double edged sword. For most, it will do them in, but for me, I will attack that lack of fear. For her, she is not used to experiencing fear, so when I do strike it into her, and I will, she will freeze. And when she freezes, that is when I shall defeat her. 

“Oh believe me Jen, I don’t expect her to be afraid of me. Hopefully, you didn’t believe that I would have you come here to instill fear into her. I know things about Cera’s past and her weaknesses, and I will exploit them when the time comes. I just want you to know that tragedies typically occur to those who are not complicit.” Smiling, I give Jen a wink as she turns around to walk off. “I did have more to say.” I state calmly, driving Jen’s attention back to me. “This was my wife.” I could see the confusion that riddled Jen’s face as she tried to figure this out. It wasn’t too long ago that she had been taken from me, but it was long enough to raise suspicion about my age.

“How- how old are ‘ya again?”

“War has no age, Jen.”

Still confused, Jen snaps out of the mystery of my age before I continue speaking. At this point, we are alone, the wind is picking up, but the rain has completely stopped, yet I am still holding my umbrella. “My wife was killed in cold blood. The police officers couldn’t find her killer, so I did. And when I did, I drove a knife through his heart four times and watched him bleed. Only after it appeared he was going to die did I cut his throat. I wanted him to experience the same suffering my wife experienced in her last moments. You see, I couldn’t be there for her, but now I will be there for others when they need me. This world is a cruel, cold place, I don’t need to tell you that, you know that. I believe that we live with dualities and that the only way to achieve a world with justice is through balance. I want Cera to help me balance VOW.  The time for talk is over, it is time to play executioner. I’m sick of throwing flowers on graves.”

Jen stood in silence as I continued; I knew that I was making an impact, for better or worse. “But don’t use me as an example, ask Cera about how Tyler ended up dead. Oh wait, you can’t, because even she doesn’t know the answer? A child created in her vision, molded by her lay dead, and she can’t do anything to bring him back. But do you know what she can do? She can join me, and together, we can make this world a better place. Together, she and I can lead humanity to the right path. But we have to start in pro wrestling. My offer is on the table, but if she shows up at Heatstroke courting battle with me, that is what she is the fate she shall receive.” With that, I turned around, not saying good bye to Jen, but leaving her with my words. Jen is a highly intelligent individual, but sometimes emotions can help us make decisions. I’m hoping that she follows her heart.

As I walk past the gravestones, my cellphone buzzes, it is a call from Natasha. I eagerly pick up, standing in the graveyard. “Hey, so I have a lead on Niles. I think I know where we can find him.” Inhaling slowly, I attempt to gather myself from the emotional state I was just in. This may be it, all I had hoped for. 

“Good. We’ll talk when I get back.” As I hang up the phone, I shudder, not because of Niles, but because I neglected to tell Natasha that I was at her mother’s gravesite. Who would have figured that the hardest secret for me to keep is my own flesh and blood’s own heritage?