A Tragic and Beautiful Descent Part 3: Ignis Fatuus

[Joka]

***Warning: Graphic content***

ignis fatuus 

noun ig·nis fat·u·us \ ˈig-nəs-ˈfa-chə-wəs , -ˈfach-wəs \
Medieval Latin for "foolish fire"

1 : A will-o'-the-wisp, will-o'-wisp, a light that sometimes appears in the night over marshy ground and is often attributable to the combustion of gas from decomposed organic matter

2 : a deceptive goal or hope

Today's the day.  Today is the tomorrow that was suppose to happen.  I never thought this day would come; seeking help for the myriad of psychological problems and such.  I've had to deal with each of these mental disorders as they appeared for longer than I can remember and I'm speechless on how I feel.  On one hand, I'm so happy.  Happy to be rid of it and see the healing that will take place.  On the other hand, I would be remiss to overlook the constant companionship the psychosis has offered in this cold world.  It's truly amazing what people can get used to.  You live with misery and despair long enough and it becomes the norm, and anything better seems downright alien.

"Mr. Belasko, thank you for waiting.  The doctor is ready for your appointment."

The receptionist says this with a smile as I shoot her a nod and smile back.  We both stand up in unison and the lobby stares in amazement.  The receptionist is used to seeing Joka's hulking six-foot,five-inch frame lumbering through here but this is the first time she is seeing me accompany him.  I've become quite acclimated to the reaction of someone seeing anyone over seven feet tall, but it still stops me in my tracks every time.  As his Manager, long time friend, and business partner, it's not an unusual sight for "The Monster of Brazil" to be seen with "Tha Joka".  In our heyday, we were inseparable.  I was by his side all throughout his Pro Wrestling Revolution and Great Wrestling Action runs.  I was there with him when he wrestled his first match in Deathcore Wrestling and I was there with him the day he died in Deathcore Wrestling.  He was by my side all throughout my Championship Wrestling X career and Pro Wrestling Revolution run too.  The receptionists eyes stay on me longer than everyone else's in the lobby as Byron and I saunter through a door and are ushered down a long hallway.  Doors leading to offices run down one side with only a few doors on the other.

"Right this way, gentlemen."

The small receptionist has to look up at Byron but her voice tends to tremble ever so slightly when she looks up at me.  She is tiny by comparison and I would only guess she is a little taller than five feet.  Reminds me of when I joined Enforcer's CWX.  All of the backstage security and interviewers on the PR team were scared to death of me the first few times they had to deal with me.  Everyone would assume because of my size, I'm a violent man but I'm actual quite gentle in comparison.  I like to think a little of Joka's reputation rubbed off on me.  Always makes me wonder why a raving psychopath like Byron would latch onto such a gentle soul like myself.  I can get mean when I want to; it comes with the territory and is par for the course in our line of work, but my bar fighting days are long behind me.

"This really is some revolutionary work Dr. Corrigan and her team is doing.  Are you super excited about it!?" the receptionist asks as Byron's facial expression changes.  He furrows his brow in that way.  Not in an angry way but in a sort of confused way.


"Not as excited as you and her, obviously."  He answers as his eyes roll over ever so slightly and he looks at me in a joking manner with his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth.  I usually prefer a stoic visage and very rarely show emotion on my face but my smile reveals to the petite receptionist Joka's displeasure at what is to comes.  The three of us take a turn in the hallway and head for a white door.  The receptionist holds the door for both of us and shoot each of us a smile as we enter.

"Mr. Belasko!  How are you feeling today?"  Dr. Corrigan questions to Joka.  Joka answers her as my mind wanders.  The equipment setup is something to truly behold.  Like something out of a science fiction movie.  The table with the virtual reality setup is completely encased.  Joka had explained the whole thing to me earlier, about how he had to be completely encapsulated to prevent outside noise from affecting his VR Exposure Therapy session.  I'm completely lost in surveying the room with all the computer monitors set up in a row by the table when Dr. Corrigan's voice snaps me out of my daydream.

"And you, Mr. Silvaira!  Byron had told me his best friend was a big guy but he didn't express to me how big.  How tall are you?" She quarries as Joka looks up at me.  "I'm seven-feet, two-inches tall and please Mrs. Corrigan, call me Darren."  I say as Joka's eyes get wide and he wiggles his head back-and-forth in a playful manner.  The doctor sees this and giggles a little.

"My apologies, Darren... and it's Ms. Corrigan.  But please, call me Phoebe."  She says with a smile.  She takes Byron's hand firmly and leads him over to the table he'll be laying on as the two converse together.  Meanwhile, I'm still in shock at what she said.  Joka told her I was his best friend.  I mean, of course we're best friends.  I've just never heard him say it.  I find myself wondering what that conversation entailed.  She isn't just some person he is talking to.  She is his therapist.  She is his psych' doctor.  This is a person he has been telling his deepest secrets to.  The one with the proverbial beans spilled all over her.  If he is telling her that I'm his best friend, this is truly a Byron of a different color.  This isn't the Joka I know.  I don't know why I haven't mentally prepared myself for this but my friend could be in danger of becoming a good man.

"Byron, I'd like to introduce you to Pod #1.  It's the only one right now and the nickname is tentative, of course.  If all goes well today and in the coming weeks, this pod will be just one of many." She explains as Joka's eyebrow does a balloon and rises in an inquisitive manner.

"You act like this is some kinda historic event."  He retorts, in a sarcastic manner.  The doctor looks at him befuddled.  "Oh but it is Byron.  This technology will go on to help wounded veterans, anyone with PTSD really, and a whole host of other patients with a myriad of mental disorders." She coldly states as she brushes her golden locks out of her face and tucks the hair behind her ear.  She quickly introduces Joka and I to the rest of the team.

"This is Rakesh Dalal.  He is the computer programmer responsible for building all the environments within the virtual reality." She says.  Joka instantly walks up and bumps fists with him.  I shake his hand firmly as he pulls his hand back and shakes it in the air.  "Damn dude, I've seen ya'll on TV but you are stupid tall in person.  Watch out how hard you shake with them baseball mits!" He remarks as he feints an injury in his hand.

"And I'd like both of you to meet our leading Neuroscientist on the project, Dr. Townsend.  He is on the leading edge of neuroscience and his team is doing some very promising things with nanotechnology."  She specifies as Dr. Townsend shakes hands and politely excuses himself.  A couple of minutes of introductions later and Joka and I are in a backroom.  Joka takes off his vintage green GWA shirt and lays it on a table as his attention turns to me.

"Do you think I should do this, Darren?"  He inquires.  I find myself unable to do anything except stand dumbfounded.  "You're not really a person who cares what others think.  If you make up your mind to do something, it either gets done or it doesn't, but you never question an action before you make it."  I answer, my low, gritty voice echoeing in the small changing room.  Joka's expression turns to a look of befuddlement.

"I didn't ask you for an autobiographical history of my decision making process, I asked if YOU... think I should DO this?!?"  He howls out, eyeing me from cheek to cheek.  My folded arms fall to my side and one arm reaches up to scratch a thoughtful chin.

"You've only ever had two jobs in your whole life, Byron.  Either that of a fighter, or that of a wrestler.  I'm one of the few that can say I've known you since before you were a wrestler.  I met you before you became Tha Joka; when you were only known as "Badass" Byron Belasko.  When I first heard of you in my hometown of Rio Branco, Brazil.  The fight coordinator there would refer to you as Fodão.  Just Fodão.  However, I've known Joka just as long as I've known Fodão.  I'm as good a friend of Joka's as I am of yours, Byron." I address to him in a somber tone.  Byron stares at my mouth for a moment and then suddenly throws his arms in the air in cartoonish fashion.

"What the FAWK does that mean, ya big dumb salad!" He yells as I cross my arms again.  "My point is, I've known both of you equally.  If I had a choice of who to spend my time with, it would most undoubtedly be you, Byron."

Byron's face turns to the side like a confused dog and a smile forms on his face.  He unbuttons his pants, unzips them, and pulls them down to his ankles.  Luckily, he is wearing a pair of boxer briefs.  "Come here and give me a hug ya big, sappy, bitch!"  He booms jokingly as he begins penguin walking around the room.  A few minutes of him squeezing every ounce of comedy out of that shtick and my own boisterous laughter antagonizing the jokes could only delay the inevitable for so long.  Finally, Byron takes his pants off completely and puts on the medical gown.  His was not a face of calm or relaxed.

"You tell anyone about this and y'er gettin' kicked in the bawls, hard!"  He grumbles as I tie off the gown in the back.  A smirk forms as I finish and walk around in front of him.  "Alright, you ready to do this?" I say, anticipating what he'll say next.  "Just... just don't leave me alone in there.  Promise me you won't leave me in there alone... you big bitch." He says in a low voice, almost a whisper.

"I promise I won't leave you alone in there." I reply as he walks past me to the door.  We exit the dressing room straight into the Pod room and Joka walks over to the pod while I walk over to the bank of monitors showing everything from heart rate and breathing to a feed of the simulated reality that Byron would be seeing.  Byron is set on by Dr. Townsend's team and things that look like electrodes are hooked on specific points of his head that were shaved beforehand. At the same time, a team is hooking him up for the medically induced coma.  Dr. Corrigan walks over to the monitor bank and her and Rakesh beginning booting up the virtual reality software.  A while later and Byron is completely unconscious, has the VR setup on over his eyes, and inside the closed Pod.  The medical teams are all crowded around another monitor playing the simulation feed and we all watch as the simulation creeps to a start.  A view of a child's bedroom in first person view comes across the screen and then looks over at the closet door.  Suddenly he rushes into the closet and closes the door behind him.

"I know that room, and that closet."  I say as Dr. Corrigan looks up to me with sympathetic eyes.  "Yes.  It's his childhood home in Oklahoma City.  He said you were there the day he bought it and bulldozed it to the ground.  He told me how you were there for him when he stood in that bedroom and stared at that closet door for hours." She says in a voice of despondency.  Her eyes alluding to the knowledge of what had happened in that house.  I know it too well and I never thought I'd have to see it.  Rakesh turns the volume on and some of those watching cover their mouths at what comes through the speakers.

"Bitch, I'll kill you if you're seein' another man."  Is heard a few rooms away as young Byron trembles in the closet.  A loud crashing of glass is followed by a woman's piercing, gutwrenching scream.  Some of the people crowded around the monitors have left already as they can only speculate at what will happen next.  Dr. Corrigan looks up to me and begins explaining the process of the exposure therapy, obviously distracting herself away from the horrific sounds being heard on the simulation.

"You see, the nanowires hooked to his brain actually give him control of the simulation.  The first few attempts will play out just as they do in his memories as his mind becomes acclimated to the simulation."  She explains as the drama on the screen unfolds.  Several more crashing and slamming sounds later and the knob on the closet begins frantically turning.  "Come out of there, Byron.  Your mommy was a bad girl and got herself knocked the fuck out on the floor.  Come take a look at your whore mother, boy." A mysterious voice exclaims right outside the door.  Frantic breathing is heard from young Byron as the door is flung wide open and a tall, skinny man wearing a denim jacket and a cowboy hat reaches in and grabs Byron by the hair.  The man pulls Byron out of the closet and pushes him down the hallway and into the kitchen.  Byron is shoved onto the floor next to his mother and she is in fact unconscious.  Her eye is swelling up and a cut on her eyebrow and lip is bleeding badly.  Byron looks up in time to see the man wrapping his belt around his fist.  The mystery man smiles wicked one last time at Byron and then begins pummeling him in his stomach.  Young Byron exhales sharply and screams with every punch.  Pretty soon the man grows bored and begins punching Byron in the face.  Byron tries desperately to put his guard up when he can but he is only a preteen in this and the mystery man is well into his thirties, and he can only block so much.  Pretty soon, a punch straight into Byron's nose turns the feed black.

"That's just one of the memories Byron gave us in detailed description.  Our VR headset only simulates the environments and the characters.  The events playing out are controlled by his brain which is hooked up to the VR software with nanowires.  Some memories will replay, but we are hoping to see a few memories played out." Dr. Corrigan explains with excitement.  Her, Rakesh, and I are the only ones watching the feed anymore.

Again, the feed lights up in the bedroom again.  This time the skinny man and Byron's mother come in screaming at the top of their lungs at a young Byron.  The mother starts off the rampage by slapping Byron an inordinate amount of times until the skinny man becomes bored and grabs Byron by the head.  "Me and your mother HATE YOU!  Ya know how much better it would be around here without you?  Do you?"  The man screams in his face and before Byron has a chance to react, his face is slammed into the wall.  His hand reaches up on his face and he brings it back into view with blood covering his fingers.  "Look at the little pussy, honey.  Look at your little pussy!  If he was my son, he'd be a real man." the skinny man says with a maniacal cackle that seems to echo as the screen goes black again.

"I had postulated that the memories would play out longer.  Is something wrong with the software, Rakesh?" Dr. Corrigan ponders.

"There's nothing wrong with the machine, Doctor.  This is how Joka's brain works.  You said it's connected to his brain and can only play his memories.  Well, he blacks out a lot.  Especially when he was younger.  Usually when he was furious.  He doesn't black out so much anymore, though."  I interrupt before Rakesh can answer.  Another scene opens up on the monitor.  However, this time it's just Byron and his mother and she has him pinned in a corner as she continually wails on him with a leather belt.  This Byron sounds younger than previously shown and he is begging his mother not to hit him.

"Please Mom... please stop hitting me.  I'm sorry... I'm sorry!  I won't do it again just please stop hitting me!" He cries out but his mother doesn't relent.  The look on her face becomes more ruthless as she whips harder and harder.  Young Byron's head is hit as his view is thrown side-to-side violently and ferociously.  Several other gruesome memories play out in the 3D world as Joka is subjected to his torturous childhood.  After some time, Dr. Corrigan calls for a shutdown of the program and Byron is taken off the drugs that had him in his unconscious state.  Several hours later, after the medical teams have celebrated with Rakesh, Dr. Corrigan, and Dr. Townsend, Byron starts to come to.  He begins to stir violently but he sees me sitting next to the bed and he lays supine once again.  I try to press the call button but his hand grabs my arm.  His strength is different, weaker than normal, but that is to be expected.

"What's the big idea... big guy?  I thought the pretty doctor... said I was going to be doing the childhood memories... first."  He slowly utters as his voice stammers and his speech slurs to an almost drunken state.  My eyes grow wide as he says this calmly, even as he staggers over his words.

"They did.  They did do the childhood sequence first.  We all watched it on the monitors.  A few gruesome memories of your stepdad and..." I shockingly exclaim as he shakes his head in an exaggerated way, obviously still suffering the effects of the drugs in his system.

"No, nope, no sir.  I... I was in Hell.  It was my memory from Deathcore Wrestling.  I was in Hell and then suddenly... I wasn't." Byron says as he erupts in laughter.  "And then... and then I was in a swamp.  I was in a saaaaad swamp.  A... swamp of misery.  Dead people, everywhere.  Then he found me..."

"Who... found you?"  I slowly ask as the room seems to suddenly shrink around us.

"The Deathman.  He came in a ball of light.  He comes for what is dead... and he's curious why I'm not." Joka replies to me as we both stare at each other for what seems like a spell.  He loosens his grip on my arm and that knocks me out of my daydream as I turn to head toward the door.  "I need to find Dr. Corrigan." I tell him, frantically moving through the room switching on lights and getting everything ready.

"No... you can't tell her."  He says in a low, monotone voice.

"Why?" I plead out in a roaring voice.  He sits up in the bed and turns his body to hang his legs off of it.  He looks up at me and sighs with heavy despair.

"Because the Deathman says it's not over."