Kurayami

There is a do or die moment in everyone's life.

It’s then the questions leak into your mind -- are you as good as you were?

Were you ever as good as you thought?

Because all it takes is one moment, one sign of weakness, one drop of blood… the sharks are already in the water… you’re fucked.

The nice part is I know you ask yourself the same questions. I have seen it every time before, it’s the reason I have yet to have my shoulders pinned to the mat in Project Honor… everyone who has fallen before me has doubt in their eyes -- and it only grows larger after we have stepped in the ring. Win, lose, draw… that dark hole I put in your chest won’t go away. It’ll grow and grow and grow until you look in the mirror and wonder…

Were you ever as good as you thought?

“It’s going to hurt, but I need you to look as long as possible,” Voodoo said, as she scribbled down an odd chant into her leather notebook.

“If Myojin wants to be the pure light of the industry then you need to learn how to withstand that.”

Bash Daddy scraped a large spotlight across the warehouse floor.

“You want me to stare into this light for fuck sake I’m going to go blind.”

“It’s not strong enough to blind you… permanently anyway. It’ll spin, I want you to focus. See what the light shows you.”

I’m tired of living in a world where the shining lights are the things celebrated. The world is grittier than that, people are more real than that -- complicated animals fighting for superiority on the way to extinction of the whole species.

Bash flicks the spotlight on and the beam shoots directly into my eyeballs. I squint but try to keep my eyes open until the light starts to spin, black dots coming in and out of focus on the top and bottom.

The world looks at wrestlers like superstars -- orbs of light. But I have never been that type of performer. I have a message, a point -- contrary to popular belief this is not all about me. The world thinks humans exist themselves as little candles -- illuminated and surrounded by darkness. In the wrestling world it’s a little bit different. It’s dark black holes surrounded by superficial fake light and that's part of the reason I aligned with True Society. The world needs dangerous men like me, we keep those other other faux wolves from the door.

My eyes burn, start to water from the direct shot of spiraling lights. It started to form shapes in the middle, a cross that turns to a bird.

You heard it. You saw a second of it. The undeniably of my talent, the pop of the crowd -- the realization that I am the reason arenas are getting filled. They want to see the Warrior Champion fall -- and believe it or not -- some of these fans want me to burn it all down. You take one of those hot lights, you take Myojin and put them under a magnifying glass… it’s all the spark I’ll need.

My eyes twitch and blink, but I keep them open as much as possible. The black image forming in the center of my mind’s eye shifts from a bird to an angel-- then I see it -- a silhouette hoisting two championships.

The light snaps off.

Darkness engulfs the whole room.I stand outside Columbus City Hall. There is a lot more space in the courtyard than there used to be. A cigarette hangs between my lips, my Warrior Rising championship around my waist, a lined leather jacket slung over my shoulders. Bash Daddy keeps the camera on me.

“Myojin it all comes down to this… you are the only person in the way of me achieving my destiny here in Project Honor. You could call it wrong place, wrong time, but to be honest since I joined this promotion I couldn’t wait for this opportunity. See I have been watching you, the classics you have put on in this company while I was off getting my hand nail gunned to the mat at a garbage death match wrestling promotion just so I could find out what it’s like to fucking bleed again.”

“While I was off doing that you were making a name for yourself here, making sure you are a mainstay… but things change… and things can change pretty God damn quick. Once an idol is exposed as false it is only inevitable it is pulled down. It’s what happened here in this very city. Christopher Columbus hauled down. Now Myojin, I am not comparing him or his atrocities to you at all -- merely symbolism -- but it’s a recurring theme in pro wrestling… people who are in it for nothing but themselves who have fooled these fans into believing you are something noble and pure… like you weren’t afforded any advantages in life to get to the position you are. I hate second generation stars like you, get the foot in the door on daddy’s name and well having a wrestling ring in your backyard gives you advantages others didn’t have. I had to take my bumps on the playground, in the hockey rink… out on the fucking streets. Some of us didn’t have fathers who beat other men up for a living, some have the lineage of cold blooded killers in their veins.”

“Brought up as a prodigy, there isn’t a single technical maneuver you don’t know. You were born by your father to be a fighter. I recognize it’s not going to be as easy as it was with my previous opponents to choke you unconscious… but I’ve got a style you can’t train for. I am a survivor. I’m a leach… a blood sucker who will hang on til you're exhausted and use that moment to strike.”

I take some sharp drags off my cancer stick and tap the edge off using the Warrior Rising Championship. I tap it for a second before speaking to my opponent's title.

“The title you have so securely around your waist doesn’t belong there. You have no special X Factor… you are just like any other technical obsessed wrestler who is about to bite off more than he can chew. You almost had a taste of that weeks ago when Valentine took you to the absolute limit. Hell I should have demanded my title shot at the end of the match… a brisk wind could have toppled you. I don’t care what mommy and daddy told you growing up, I don’t care if you have been slugging it out proving yourself for the last year… at Unbreakable Resolution your clock resets. I came here to do the unconventional, I am tired of one defense champions… this company needs some legitimacy, some relevance… and like it or night I might just be the one to take it to new heights. You can thank me for the pay increase when you go to renegotiate your contact because the truth is I am the X factor in this company whether or not the championship is even slung over my other shoulder.”

I pace back and forth before puffing my Marlboro and pointing it toward the camera ember first.

“Myojin, your name literally means shining or illuminating deity… is that how you see yourself. You think you are some God put here to shine your beautiful inspiring soul out into the world. I know it’s hard to think about. Hard to know that you have been here fighting, clawing, scratching your way to the top and someone like me hopes in here and gets the crowd buzzing more than you have in nearly a year… It must be a hard pill to choke down. I don’t think you are a bright light, I think you are the opposite -- dim. I know you think you’ve been having match of the night after match of the night but rest assured you have never been between the ropes with an animal like me. I assume you know what Kurayami means -- darkness.”

I lick my fingers and put out the cigarette holding it in my other hand. I toss it to the ground and look back toward the camera.

“Eventually all bright light burns out, eventually the darkness wins. Whether you corrupt your morals or you fall… one way or another the darkness finds a way. I know you want this as bad as I do. I know how embarrassing it’ll be to lose your title to me and watch my hand be raised as the X-Factor and Warrior Rising Champion. And it’s not to fill my ego at all, the goal is to humble people like you. Humble all the people who are set at an advantage. I’ll do things to you daddy never taught.”

“If you want to really be the elite fighter the elite warrior you claim you already are you are going to have to bleed for it, you’ll have to do the cage matches, the death matches, the last man standing… that’s what this sport is about… diversity in combat… having that inch of an edge over a worthy adversary.”

I hold my championship out toward the camera underlining the word Warrior with my finger.

“When you step in the ring with me it’s not just about surviving, it’s about how much of yourself you are willing to give up to do it.”

I place the title back over my shoulder.

“Truth be told, I’m not here to be noble, not here to shake hands -- I’m here to do what it takes. Bite off finger tips, dig my thumbs so far into your eyes I feel your thoughts. And that is the difference between you and I Myojin… I’ve got that darkness and I use it as a gift. You can take your loss as Unbreakable Resolution one of two ways. You can fall down the card.. Maybe.. Just maybe get a shot at this title the bosses claim is entry level… but I’ve elevated over the last month… or you can humble yourself. Realize you aren’t as good as you think. You have to be willing to get a little color kid, and if you won’t do it willingly I don’t mind helping you out. This isn’t going to be a technical wrestling match. Nah, I’m not dumb enough to think I can out last you in that. What I am saying is I am going to do whatever it takes. I am going to find a way to disfigure you if it means I walk out of Unbreakable Resolution as a double champion. And it’s nothing personal… it’s just the wrong place at the wrong time… maybe for the first time in your life… things are about to grow dark in Proving Ground.”

I walk over to where the statue of Columbus used to stand and spit on the ground as the camera snaps off.


It was his opportunity. His chance to get the bastard.

The Detective just needed to drive the eight hours from New York to Ohio. He had this random address stuffed into the breast pocket of his jacket along with a pint to sip on and a badge to get him out of it when he got pulled over.

He punched the dash as engine and brake lights flicked on -- a quirk of the old rig. They promptly went dark… hit them too hard for the last time. Must have fucked up a fuse.

It’s why The Detective didn’t realize a few miles from Ohio state lines his brakes were bleeding dry from a small hole poked in them when he was parked outside the arena in New York focused on English wrestling.

He tried to hit them a few times, but nothing. His reflexes weakened by the booze he didn’t veer to the right enough and his car left the road. Rolled through the ditch. Off a small cliff. Into a deep body of water.

Gone to the darkness.