The Monster I've Become

[Xavier Cross]

“Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy.”

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

Xavier Cross is shown sitting at a table, it looks like a police office interrogation room. He sits there, his head down, the wooden table is old and worn, blood was dried right below where Xavier held his head. Looking up, he is pale, and tired, but has a fiendish look about him. Licking his lips, dry blood stains his face.

“I’ve locked myself in this single room, I’ve read documents, studied video, I’ve watched it all. From matches between my opponents, matches with my opponents, just opponents promoting. I know each and everyone of you inside out. Like it’s a f***ing obsession…I’ve laid everything on the line, I’ve pushed my personal life to its breaking point for this once chance to jumpstart my career.”

He twitches a bit, and licks his lips. He gives a sinister grin before shaking his head. Picking up a manila folder, filled with various papers, some crisp and fresh, some old and worn. Slamming it down in front of him it opens up with a picture of Dark Prophet.

“Here is where I’ll start…Standing at 6’9 weighing in at 285lbs, from Minneapolis, Minnesota….a monster of a man who enjoys using steel chairs, wrapped in barb wire. One of the most brutal men to step into the NCW squared circle… With his submission torture rack finisher he dubs ‘The Rack.’ and a powerful spear he calls Gungnir. A man who suffered what most doctors would call a career ending injury, has returned full force. A man who three weeks ago had me on my back after a monstrous spear. Dark Prophet. A man who has suffered his sting of injuries, and pushed himself to the beyond and come back a few marbles short, but what he lacks in the sanity department he makes up in the full out brutalism he brings into the ring…You stand taller than me, you stand heavier than me…Yet I don’t fear you? Why could that be? I ask of you only to bring your toy to the ring. To brutalize me, to push me to my absolute limitations. I ask of you Dark Prophet, to fight me. To not hold anything back…”

“You call me the Horseman of Famine, my career having a drought of a lack of gold around my waist. But I do hold the weighing scales, every time I step out of the ring after the match, I look at myself, and I weigh my heart to see if I’ve gotten some self respect back. I weigh my opponents heart, and what they brought at me and see how I feel about that. If anything I am judgment in its entirety. I ask my opponents, what do you see your worth. Some like Ace, J.F.K, and Sexy Jason see themselves worth their weight in gold. What about Prophet, how do you see yourself weighing on the scales? I will not have a last meal, or stuff myself with a plentiful bounty of foods and drinks, because this is far from my last meal. Plus I like a big championship celebration after…”

And the bastards you know is the hero you hate
But cohesion is possible if we try
There's no reason
There's no lesson
No time like the present
Tell me right now, what have you got to lose?
What have you got to lose, except your soul?

Shaking his head he closes the folder, and looks up at the camera. His eyes look lost, slowly losing his sanity. Reaching forward he pulls another folder out, and flips it open. We see a picture of JFK as he starts tapping his finger against the picture.

“…James…Franklin….Karn….Jay-Eff-Kay…Standing at 6’2, weighing 225lbs. Ft. Laurderdale, Florida is where you call home? You claim your mission is to win the title the five of us are vying for. How bad to you want it James? Bad enough to kill, is this thing haunting you enough for you to take away a career of another man? Bad enough to risk your career? When you come to the ring the audience and your opponents are asked “first you have to know….not fear….but know… that someday you’re gonna die.” A classic line from Fight Club. I’ve studied your matches and your moves, I’ve watched you in the ring J.F.K, and you bring a nice variety of moves and are a force to be reckoned with. You’ve made men tab out with your jumping armbar, NSP submission finisher, you’ve beaten men with your double arm implant DDT, Nail in the Coffin as you call it. And even on occasions when pushed to the limits you will pull of some acrobatics with a shooting star senton. Well I want to see you shoot for the stars J.F.K because this dream, this obession you have to reach for the X-treme Title, you’ll have to shoot the stars, and destroy me to beat me. This match is going to be hell on earth, and I for one plan on bringing the fire, will you bring your soul?”

I fight for the unconventional
My right and it's unconditional
I can only be as real as I can
The disadvantage is I never knew the plan
This isn't just a way to be a martyr
I can't walk alone any longer
I fight, for the ones who can't fight
And if I lose at least I tried

Again Xavier closes the folder, throwing it behind him papers scattering everywhere. His face twists into a smile as his chapped lips crack, a bit of blood running down. Shaking his head he reaches forward and pulls another folder out. Flipping it open, there is a black Ace of Spades, then a picture of the Ace himself. Picking the card up he twirls it around his fingers.

“…The Wild Card…The Blonde Stallion….or as some call you, the Excelsior of Execution…The Ace…A man who knows the finer things in life, you live so rich, and luxurious. Not having to worry about money, women, or cars because you, sir have plenty of them all. You live the life every man wishes he had. No attachments, just an endless bank account. But even the finer English men have a mean streak in them. I know your weakness lies in the weapon you, love so very much that Sledgehammer. It brings out the worst in you, but your worst is what the audience loves, when you lose your composure and become a real competitor. When you let it all hang out Ace. Standing at 6’1, weighing in at 246lbs, all the way from across the pond in Birmingham, England. With the Ace-Plant, FameAcer, which show the egotistical nature, but also power and confidence, Ace. But my goal Ace, in this match is to make you pull out all the stops, I speak of that sledgehammer, but I also want to see you pull off that move, the Gambler’s Vice. I want to see you in desperation, backed against the corner. Underneath those fancy suits, and expensive drinks lies an animal….unleash him…”

“A year or so ago, I first came onto the scenes at N.C.W. and in my wake of trying to make a name for myself I came across The Ace. I was cocky, and stupid at the time, and I went into my matches thinking I was the greatest there has ever been. I once was a arrogant punk, that only saw a pay check, camera time, and merchandise sales as the only thing that matters. You call me out for leaving my wife for a few weeks so I can enter hell and attempt to come back a sane man to her. I ask you Ace, could you bring your beautiful wife to ring side, knowing very well she would see you get dominated, decimated, and destroyed? The blood, carnage, and all around pure all out war fare will be one of the ages I can promise you that. So you bring whatever attitude you like to the ring, I’ve learned my lesson a long time ago about underestimating you, maybe you should take that page, copy it, keep it in your little black book and remember, never underestimate Xavier Cross…”

I wont, be the inconsequential
I wont, be the wasted potential
I can make it as severe as I can
Until you realize you'll never take a stand
It isn't just a one-sided version
We've dealt with a manic subversion
I won't let the truth be perverted
And I wont leave another victim deserted

Before Xavier closes the file, he looks at the ace of spades putting it in his mouth biting down, he runs his hand sideways against the folder, knocking it off sending it scattered. Pulling the card out of his mouth he holds it up, as his free hand reaches in his pocket pulling out a lighter. Watching the card catch fire he lays the flaming card in his hand, smiling at the camera. He shakes the flame out of his hand, a bit of charred skin laid where he had burnt it, but he reaches out pulling another file flipping it open, a picture of Sexy Jason smiling back at him.

“Standing at 6’3 weighing 250lbs, hailing from Los Angeles, California. I bring your attention to the X-Treme champion. The self proclaimed hottest thing to be in N.C.W. So cocky, yet its paid off, you are the one with the odds stacked against you as you enter this match, the one everyone is aiming for. There is a high chance you’ll leave battle grounds not only broken and beaten, but also lack the title around your waist. Do I sit here and look at you Jason and call you unworthy of this belt. No, because despite your appearance and the way you act, no matter how pompous you can be with a microphone and a camera, you bring it to the ring every night you are on the card. Whether the championship is on the line, or not. Lets see if your swagger is well placed Jason, because you are going to need everything in the tank to pull this one out.”

“My carebear will have no part or sight in this match Jason. You are as pompous and cocky as it comes, and I will take great pride in scaring that body you call your trophy. I will break and bruise, and decimate that face you make a living off of. I will enjoy every moment that I break you, make you scream, and enjoy the etches of blood, and scars I will leave on you. Jason, you’ve pushed me in a way no man has pushed me, and I will come strong, and I will destroy this precious face, your conceitedness will be the end of not only your reign as champion, but this glorious aura you strut around will. Its now my personal goal to hurt you…Congratulations, the chair open the wound, but rubbing salt in it….makes me vicious…Champ”

We fight, till no one can fight us
We live, and no one can stop us
We pull but we're pushed too far
And the advantage is, the bottom line is
We never had to fight in the first place
We only had to spit back in their face
We won't walk alone any longer
What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger

Shaking his head he holds the picture up of Jason, tearing it up, multiple times and then throwing it in the air. Then clapping his hands together multiple times, then again he pushes the folder off the desk. He turns his attention to the final folder. Pulling it forward its covered in dried blood, with various scribbles on it.

“Finally….I bring you, the one person who stands between me and everything….Standing at 5’11 weighing 155lbs…he hails from Lexington, Virginia and is a true underdog in this match. He is the lightest fighter, as well as the smallest. A man who in one move left his entire family for the time being to become something more, something destructive, to bring home his first title in one year. A chance at glory is to never be passed up. That man is I, Xavier Cross…X…C…X-treme Champion. It has a nice ring to it huh? I will bring all my weapons, all my moves, and throw everything on the line. Prepare for mayhem…prepare for destruction…prepare for Total….X-Treme…..Warfare….I left my family to enter this hell….look at what I have become?! Look at me?! Jason…Ace….James….Prophet, I left the one thing that completes me, the one thing I love, to become this…this…monster….you see what I am willing to do outside the ring, can you only fathom what I will do to you….they say a caged dog is dangerous, lets find if my bark is worse than my bite shall we….”

Flipping the table over, he starts laughing as he starts hitting himself, punching the walls, slamming himself into the walls. Eventually he backs into the wall and slides down into the feeble position, laughing, staring at the camera, and laughing.

“I never thought of losing, but now that it's happened, the only thing is to do it right. That's my obligation to all the people who believe in me. We all have to take defeats in life.”

-Muhammad Ali