Is this the real life? Or is this just fantasy?
Aug 20, 2024 18:48:33 GMT -5
Ezra Gideon, "Cholo" Giovanni Santana, and 2 more like this
Post by Devlin Knight on Aug 20, 2024 18:48:33 GMT -5
Time waits for no man… Isn't that what they say? Well, it waited, but not for me—in spite of me. As I slipped away from my body, everything around me dissolved into a swirling vortex of light and darkness. It felt like I was being torn from one reality and thrust into another, where the laws of physics and existence twisted. I was used to jumping between timelines and dimensions, but this was different.
I drifted through a realm defying comprehension. Shapes and colours shifted like galaxies colliding in an endless cosmic dance. This was purgatory, a space where echoes of my past deeds reverberated. Every action, every decision I had ever made manifested as a tangible force, shaping the environment around me…
I drifted through a realm defying comprehension. Shapes and colours shifted like galaxies colliding in an endless cosmic dance. This was purgatory, a space where echoes of my past deeds reverberated. Every action, every decision I had ever made manifested as a tangible force, shaping the environment around me…
Voice: ”You remember this place don't you? You've been here before when you were Fred Debonair.”
Devlin: ”So what am I doing here now??”
Time lost its meaning as I wandered through this interdimensional purgatory. I could sense the pull of something darker ahead, a gravitational force drawing me inexorably closer. As I approached, the surroundings grew colder and more sinister, as if the fabric of reality itself was rejecting my presence…
Voice: ”You weren't supposed to be here then, you aren't supposed to be here now…”
Devlin: ”Where is here? What has even happened…?”
Voice: ”You, Devlin Knight… Are dead.”
And then, I arrived. What I saw wasn’t a fiery pit, but a strange landscape of unimaginable suffering. Travelling through dimensions had brought me to a place where torment took on new forms. The air was heavy with despair, and the essence of this place seeped into my being. My guilt and regret magnified a thousandfold, echoing through this infernal dimension as my lives played out before me.
It was a mirror universe where every dark thought and impulse materialised into a living nightmare. In this interdimensional hell, I faced not just external horrors but the deepest recesses of my soul. There was no escape, only the relentless onslaught of anguish and remorse. I realised this place wasn’t just punishment, but a reflection of choices that led me here…
This was my truth.
It was a mirror universe where every dark thought and impulse materialised into a living nightmare. In this interdimensional hell, I faced not just external horrors but the deepest recesses of my soul. There was no escape, only the relentless onslaught of anguish and remorse. I realised this place wasn’t just punishment, but a reflection of choices that led me here…
This was my truth.
Devlin: ”And how did I get here…?”
Voice: ”Through your own choices and the consequences of those choices made…”
And so I existed, adrift in this interdimensional realm of suffering, forever haunted by the consequences of my own existence…
That was…
Until I woke up…
Sweat slicked my skin, pooling at my temples, trickling towards my eyes, threatening to sting. My pillow was damp, soaked through, though I couldn’t recall tossing or turning. The quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the space like a faint, ghostly lullaby. Over by the crib, Aurora whispered to Ava, her voice a hushed, comforting coo meant to stave off tears in the small hours. Everything felt unnervingly still, the calm masking something more sinister. My pulse thudded hard in my chest, the only sign I was alive.
The dream. God, it lingered, heavy as fog, coiling through my mind. So real—too real. Yet so off, like something dredged from a place you shouldn’t remember. I lay there, remnants tugging at me, pulling me back to sleep’s edge, but then the alarm cut through the room like a slap. Five-thirty. Too late to drift off, too early to forget. A half-hour later, and I’d have called it a luxury.
Sedona. The ancestral house, silent, watchful. I hated the way it seemed to breathe with us, always there, knowing. The bedroom faced east, sunlight creeping through the curtains, teasing dawn’s edge. I told Aurora to sleep while I gathered my things. Ava shifted as I laid her down, her tiny hand flexing in the air like a whisper of something remembered but unspoken.
The sunrise… always beautiful in its inevitability. But today, standing in that pale glow, it felt more like an intrusion, like something old had stirred and was watching, waiting. That feeling lingered as I approached the shower, turned it on, and went back to the mirror with the straight razor…
…The view from “Dead Leaf Ranch” stretched endlessly, an expanse so vast it seemed to swallow the horizon. But what was there to see, really? Just an ocean of dust and desert, a scorched emptiness piling layer upon layer of sand. It was barren, devoid of meaning, a landscape that pressed down on you, making you feel small, irrelevant.
Yet something stirred beneath that lifeless surface. Wildlife moved with unsettling grace. Rattlesnakes coiled under rocks, their hiss a warning too late. Gila monsters, slow and deliberate, their beady eyes watching. Coyotes flickered in the distance. Javelinas snuffled in the underbrush, while Roadrunners darted too fast to catch. Cactus Wrens sang cracked, dry songs, their beauty feeling out of place, misaligned.
And then, of course, there was the other stuff. The things no one talks about unless they’ve been out here too long. The things glimpsed late at night, when the desert cools just enough for the wind to carry something with it. But that’s another story entirely.
Just on top of a small mesa above the ranch, sits the former WGWF Intercontinental Champion and soon-to-be World Champion, Devlin Knight. Back to the sun, eyes closed, spliff hanging from his mouth, he speaks…
That was…
Until I woke up…
Sweat slicked my skin, pooling at my temples, trickling towards my eyes, threatening to sting. My pillow was damp, soaked through, though I couldn’t recall tossing or turning. The quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the space like a faint, ghostly lullaby. Over by the crib, Aurora whispered to Ava, her voice a hushed, comforting coo meant to stave off tears in the small hours. Everything felt unnervingly still, the calm masking something more sinister. My pulse thudded hard in my chest, the only sign I was alive.
The dream. God, it lingered, heavy as fog, coiling through my mind. So real—too real. Yet so off, like something dredged from a place you shouldn’t remember. I lay there, remnants tugging at me, pulling me back to sleep’s edge, but then the alarm cut through the room like a slap. Five-thirty. Too late to drift off, too early to forget. A half-hour later, and I’d have called it a luxury.
Sedona. The ancestral house, silent, watchful. I hated the way it seemed to breathe with us, always there, knowing. The bedroom faced east, sunlight creeping through the curtains, teasing dawn’s edge. I told Aurora to sleep while I gathered my things. Ava shifted as I laid her down, her tiny hand flexing in the air like a whisper of something remembered but unspoken.
The sunrise… always beautiful in its inevitability. But today, standing in that pale glow, it felt more like an intrusion, like something old had stirred and was watching, waiting. That feeling lingered as I approached the shower, turned it on, and went back to the mirror with the straight razor…
…The view from “Dead Leaf Ranch” stretched endlessly, an expanse so vast it seemed to swallow the horizon. But what was there to see, really? Just an ocean of dust and desert, a scorched emptiness piling layer upon layer of sand. It was barren, devoid of meaning, a landscape that pressed down on you, making you feel small, irrelevant.
Yet something stirred beneath that lifeless surface. Wildlife moved with unsettling grace. Rattlesnakes coiled under rocks, their hiss a warning too late. Gila monsters, slow and deliberate, their beady eyes watching. Coyotes flickered in the distance. Javelinas snuffled in the underbrush, while Roadrunners darted too fast to catch. Cactus Wrens sang cracked, dry songs, their beauty feeling out of place, misaligned.
And then, of course, there was the other stuff. The things no one talks about unless they’ve been out here too long. The things glimpsed late at night, when the desert cools just enough for the wind to carry something with it. But that’s another story entirely.
Just on top of a small mesa above the ranch, sits the former WGWF Intercontinental Champion and soon-to-be World Champion, Devlin Knight. Back to the sun, eyes closed, spliff hanging from his mouth, he speaks…
Devlin: ”Beautiful isn't it? Not just the landscape but the ranch too, I've just bought it, I mean it cost a pretty penny but it's most definitely worth it… You know what I can't buy though? A goddamn win! Ever since I came back to WGWF to help get rid of the disgusting pus filled infection that is TFO, I've had the odd success but primarily, especially of late I've been submerged in defeat, falling face first at the foot of mount failure! And it's all been because of one man, if you could even call Chris Page a man… Because after what he pulled at WarGames? I don't care what Candice says, he ain't no man…
I stepped back into the promotion and declared myself in The Cannabis Cup and I made it all the way to the end! And that's when the proverbial shit began to hit the fan. In my way stood a character I consider a legend in the business I walk in at least, a man who I wanted to do proud with the Intercontinental Title, who gave the belt the meaning it deserved, I'm obviously talking about Cholo! The thing is I couldn't see far enough over him, to get past… Even when the WGWF World Title was on the line, due to Enigma choosing to remain the Smash World Champion…
But I want to rewind back to the beginning of The Cannabis Cup, I ploughed through Dubois, I defeated Samuel Chatman and then I got hit by the runaway Cholo Freight! And sure I got the chance at the Intercontinental Title and I was successful but what good did that do me?! The match was against three greats! Tristan Slater, Peter Vaughn and a man I face at Summer Madness, CJ Phoenix! A man people believed once his tag partner in King Shit, Spencer Adams took flight, would follow suit but has in fact carved a name and story for himself in WGWF!”
Devlin leans around, grabbing a hiker’s water bottle and drinking from it, following that with a pre-rolled spliff and lighter. He lights up whilst looking into the distance, the heat shimmer making a travelling Bobcat look like it was moving in and out of a portal, with irony intact.
Devlin: ”Phoenix, I suppose you're back to, what was it…? Rain on my parade?! I mean hoss you almost did it the first time around with the IC belt and clearly Jonathan Barrows sees something in you to make you his pick for the WGWF World Title but remember something CJ, this match is yet another one of those “just too big” for you, routines… Just like back in March you had myself, Slater and Vaughan, this time around you've got me, the World Champion Cholo and er… Jenny Myst. So I guess it's not all the same, but I digress…
I remember the respect you showed me Phoenix, and I won't forget it but will always wonder if that was due to the mutual friendship we shared with Spencer Adams? If not it would show that maybe there are some out there who actually acknowledge Devlin Knight and if it was? So what…? Clearly Spencer's anecdotes about yours truly, impressed and stuck with you… But let's not make a mistake here, CJ, let's understand that whereas I was a “somewhat likeable person” when we faced off for the WGWF Intercontinental Title, at Summer Madness, you wont like me at all… You can bank on that.
You made it clear that the Intercontinental Title match was my Superbowl, CJ and you know you were right about that… And what happened? There was no Hail Mary, there was no safety play… It was a straight flux from Quarterback to Wide Receiver, flat out… Touchdown! And this, World Title shot? It's the second bounce for Devlin Knight you best believe I'm bringing the whole squad, the entire four quarters and the halftime show!”
As I stand in the field, staring up at the house—too modest for a king, too grand for a common man—an uncanny stillness grips the air. Not a hint of life, not a breath of wind, though something lingers—an awareness, perhaps, watching me. It’s as if the house itself has eyes. I move toward the porch, feet heavy, and glance at the swing hanging idle. It sways slightly, though not from any breeze. No one sits there, but still, it moves…
My hand finds the cold brass handle, and I push the oak door open. The groan of the hinges is loud, like a warning, but I enter. The foyer is plush but strange, as though time settled here long ago and never left. To my right, the dining room waits, its chairs poised for guests that never come. On my left, the kitchen is draped in shadows, sharp with disuse.
Before me, the staircase stretches into the gloom, the wood creaking under the weight of years. An old rotary phone sits on a stand, its dial frozen mid-turn, a relic of a forgotten era. The grandfather clock stands tall, its heartbeat silent. Here, time has stopped, but the house remembers. Something inside remembers, and it watches, waiting for me to take the next step.
Devlin: ”So where are we?”
Voice: ”Home…”
Devlin: ”Home?”
Voice: ”Well, it's transitional, Devlin. This is where you go when you leave the mortal frame…”
Devlin: ”So it’s what Heaven? Purgatory?”
Voice: ”Don’t you remember??”
Devlin: ”No… Wait… Yes…”
Slowly, the room began to shift around me, subtly at first, like a flicker in my peripheral. I blinked, but the transformation continued, creeping over the walls, bleeding into the corners of my mind. The house wasn’t changing—it had always been like this, I realised. The truth was revealing itself, layer by layer.
Images appeared, too many to count, hanging in the air like forgotten memories. Each one was of me—or no, not quite. It was Fred Debonair. Me, but through a glass darkly. Fred through the years, stepping into the ring, fists raised in victory, title after title. A thousand moments of Fred's triumph looping endlessly, their weight pressing down on me.
The images followed as I ascended the winding staircase, lining the walls like ghosts, shifting and flickering with each step. My own face stared back, but it was a stranger’s—Fred’s. The house watched, urging me forward, and something in my chest tightened with a sudden, chilling realisation…
Images appeared, too many to count, hanging in the air like forgotten memories. Each one was of me—or no, not quite. It was Fred Debonair. Me, but through a glass darkly. Fred through the years, stepping into the ring, fists raised in victory, title after title. A thousand moments of Fred's triumph looping endlessly, their weight pressing down on me.
The images followed as I ascended the winding staircase, lining the walls like ghosts, shifting and flickering with each step. My own face stared back, but it was a stranger’s—Fred’s. The house watched, urging me forward, and something in my chest tightened with a sudden, chilling realisation…
Devlin: ”A life review… I understand, but why the past me? I've already had this one…”
Voice: ”You have, but… You have yet to see the conclusion.”
Devlin: ”Conclusion? Conclusion of…?”
...But he didn’t answer. He couldn’t, because he wasn’t there. Neither was I, not really. My body trembled, suffused with a red-hot surge of anger and confusion. The edges of reality frayed as I removed the cloth covering my eyes. I turned my head, slowly, reluctantly, and there she was—Dr. Lee—sitting across the dim room, her hand scrawling frenetically across a notepad, the faint scratching of pen against paper the only sound.
Her presence was oddly grounding, though it hadn’t always been. Max, of all people, had sent me to her—a bitter irony considering she had once been a pawn in the cruel games we played against each other. Now, like some twisted fate, she had become the thread between what tormented and what healed. The room seemed to close in, the air thick and stifling. Yet, there was Dr. Lee, relentless in her quiet work, documenting the battle I could no longer fight…
The room appeared as it always had—bathed in muted light, shadows casting across the space. A glass coffee table stood between the leather chair and the well-worn couch, a few magazines strewn across it. In the corner, a modest desk held its ground, with framed diplomas and certificates lining the wall, a testament to years of achievement.
Devlin, cradling a cup of coffee, took a slow sip, the warmth momentarily cutting through the tension inside him. A subtle smile flickered across his face, an almost imperceptible gesture of understanding as he nodded at Dr. Lee, despite the stress lingering beneath…
Her presence was oddly grounding, though it hadn’t always been. Max, of all people, had sent me to her—a bitter irony considering she had once been a pawn in the cruel games we played against each other. Now, like some twisted fate, she had become the thread between what tormented and what healed. The room seemed to close in, the air thick and stifling. Yet, there was Dr. Lee, relentless in her quiet work, documenting the battle I could no longer fight…
The room appeared as it always had—bathed in muted light, shadows casting across the space. A glass coffee table stood between the leather chair and the well-worn couch, a few magazines strewn across it. In the corner, a modest desk held its ground, with framed diplomas and certificates lining the wall, a testament to years of achievement.
Devlin, cradling a cup of coffee, took a slow sip, the warmth momentarily cutting through the tension inside him. A subtle smile flickered across his face, an almost imperceptible gesture of understanding as he nodded at Dr. Lee, despite the stress lingering beneath…
Devlin: ”Well clearly it's descriptive dreaming right?”
Dr. Lee: ”Descriptive dreaming, Devlin?”
Devlin: ”Yeah you know a dream that's so damn real, you don't know if you're awake or not when you next stir…”
Dr. Lee: ”I understand, how do you feel about that?”
Devlin: ”Well I guess it beats being in a waking nightmare that is engulfed by J Mont and TFO like Jenny Myst.”
Dr. Lee: ”Jenny Myst?”
Devlin: ”Yeah I mean surely she can't be content with being the nearly-man as it were? Chris Chaos gets pegged as an official member of the group, while Jenny? She's left as the official puppet, the dogsbody, the lackey…”
Dr. Lee: ”You think the two things are connected, Devlin?”
Devlin: ”I mean they have to be right? The last time I ever visited a realm like that it was my Fred Debonair ego death and now when I'm at another important part of my life, it happens again??”
Dr. Lee: ”And what of Jenny Myst?”
Devlin: ”Well that's pretty simple ain't it? She's just pure, unadulterated, bloated ego in the mindset of a sheep who can't think for themselves. Everything she says and does is an extension of what J Mont says or does, or tells her to do, whatever… But you've also got to look at it the other way…”
Dr. Lee: ”Oh? What way is that?”
Devlin: ”Well I mean Christopher Page unmasks himself as the Great and Powerful Oz, the man behind TFO! He gives Joseph Montuori the choice of which belt he wants to go after and then sanctions a Four-way for the World Championship! And makes his pick… JENNY MYST?! Not Snide Newton, not Chris Chaos… I mean either one of those guys could have been replaced by Jenny in their respective Championship matches but no, they, official TFO members were overlooked for the “HONORARY” Fortunate?!”
Jenny Myst is that girl who always got through school by siding with the “in” and rejecting the “out” even if said out used to be her bestie. She'd do the extra curricular activities after class to up her C to an A. She liked to think she was the popular chick when in reality people only spoke to her because of who she was close to and if those people told her to drop her real friends like a bad habit, she would… And that hasn't changed.”
Devlin places his cup on the table and stands, walking towards the desk and picking up one of the framed photos of Dr. Lee and someone who looks to be a member of the Kennedy family. He rubs his chin looking back at Dr. Lee…
Devlin: ”You see while Joseph thought he'd recruited Jenny to do his bidding, everybody knows she's really doing the work of Christopher Page and the minute he snaps his fingers, she will flip on TFO like Pancakes. And could you imagine her with the World Title?! Jenny Myst as World Champion would be hideous! All that ego, that power trip! Thinking she's deserving but not understanding she's on strings! Like any President the United States has seen… No, this is something I need to make sure doesn't happen…
You have a complex Jenny, that much is obvious… Any time I see you with your mouth open, which is a lot, you're spewing some kind of dead, childish rhetoric... You realise not every thought that travels through your mind has to be spoken out loud, right? And I'm not sure what medication they've forgotten to give you or what you'll be needing soon, but I'd humbly suggest you start thinking about keeping track of your doses before you say or do something you're likely to regret… You can laugh and spout off about how you've taken wins off me and I'll nod and agree, but that was then … What have you got now….? And what have you got without underhanded tactics and TFO?”
As I sank into the white couch, the sterile air of the waiting room was suffocating, sharp as an antiseptic sting. Something unsaid crawled beneath the surface. The once bland walls flickered to life, surrendering their stillness to images—fragments of my past. They danced before me like spectres, unsettling in their distorted projection.
One scene surged forward, more vivid than the rest.
The Cannabis Cup…
Chris Page stood beside me, his face twisted into that familiar expression, as if he knew something I didn’t. His words hung in the air, whispering how close I’d come… how I could’ve pinned Cholo.
There I was, locked in combat. Knight-Knight poised, ready. It should have ended there. But nothing ever ended clean, did it?
Cholo countered, dragging me into a full Nelson. That feeling… The helplessness… I countered, but it didn’t matter. He moved too fast, twisting me into the slam. There was a finality to it, a violence that reverberated, not just through my body but through time itself, cracking the illusion of this moment.
As the walls pulsed with ghostly images, I realised—none of it had happened this way. Not exactly. But in the echo of that slam, I felt it: the weight of regret, choices I never made, lives that slipped away when I wasn’t looking…
Devlin: ”And that's where it all ended…”
Voice: ”Or begun maybe?”
Devlin: ”Definitely ended and little did I know this was exactly where Page's plan was formulating…”
Voice: ”And now you have another shot at the World Title, another shot at Cholo…”
Devlin: ”Another shot seemingly organised by Christopher Page to further the agenda of TFO…”
Voice: ”Do you not trust yourself…?”
Devlin: ”I trust myself… I bet on myself every single day and twice on a Sunday hoss… But there are a million and one variables to watch out for at Summer Madness…”
Voice: ”There are only three which you can divide into one.”
Devlin sits in thought about this for a while as he wags a finger indicating he understands…
Devlin: ”Focus solely on the owner of what it is you desire, the rest don't matter…”
Voice: ”Correct…”
Devlin: ”There was once a time where Cholo considered me ‘a pompous prick’ but he wasn't talking about me… He was talking about Fred Debonair. There was a time when Cholo said I could back it up and he was absolutely correct… However he also played down my abilities when he asked my good friend Mike Arches how he could consider himself ‘The Epitome’ if he lost to me… I kind of feel Cholo was a tad confused….
It's also very ironic don't you think Cholo, that you once said you don't “buy” this Devlin Knight thing… Do you remember? I certainly do. You said it wasn't going to end well for anybody around me and yet all I was trying to do was regroup to help the masses and you were one of the very people who refused to help me, take on TFO… You see I “bought into” the whole Cholo thing and I still do…. What about now though? Do you buy it now? Your view of J Mont and what he and TFO stand for appears to have changed since we last spoke and you brushed me off and we've ended up teaming up and for the record I take full responsibility for the loss before we lock up at Summer Madness, that was on me! The last thing I wanted to do was once again take a loss to anyone from TFO…
But tell me, Giovanni… You do understand what's going on here right? Please tell me you've got that at least…? Snide Newton just randomly posted into the Intercontinental Title match with Max and Cable… Chris Chaos in the Bloodbath Title match… Joe Handed the Smash Championship match against Enigma with Amber getting Kenji and Ezra Gideon to defend the X-Division belt against… Then there's Jenny Myst. Page really is hoping TFO and Proxies are walking out of Summer Madness with all the gold… And there's only one way of stopping that, Giovanni and sure it could be that you retain the belt of course…
Or and, hear me out here…
…The one man who actually deserves to be holding the World Title aside from yourself takes it and does a hell of a lot more with it than he did with the IC belt!”
Devlin pats himself down, obviously looking for something to smoke but this appears to be a no-smoking realm. He rolls his eyes and leans back…
Devlin: ”You see I've already died once and I lost my ego… I come back to WGWF and it seems like Page and TFO have been trying to rip at the very fabric of my being! I'd go so far as to say, my soul! Well let me tell you now Christopher, Joseph… That's a pretty impossible task, trust me on that! But what's very possible is how I turn this on its head and take the one thing that I know you would rather shut the promotion down before you let me get my hands on… The World Championship.
I could say three people stand in my way, including Cholo, but no, it's a hell of a lot more considering TFO will all be trying to make sure Jenny wins the belt and with it being a Fatal Four-Way, we all know anything can happen… And we all know it will. Giovanni, you once said that Devlin Knight may have been close to breaking your limbs, tearing flesh from muscle and I know right now, something akin to that is what it's going to take to pry the World Title from your hands… Believe me, when I say, as much as I respect you, as much as I admire you… I'm more than ready to do so…
Summer Madness is a day of reckoning, but not only for Phoenix, Myst or Cholo… Summer Madness is a day of reckoning for yours truly. It's a day where prior mistakes will be paid for and the just will take place. It's a day when Devlin Knight actually does what he came back here to do and take his rightful place at the top of the tower and that is going to be unfortunate for a lot of people!”
A beeping suddenly distracts Devlin as he sits back on the couch and finds himself sinking into it as the white engulfs him and then just as quickly we find it all begins to fade - to - black!