Post by Gerard Angelo on Oct 7, 2019 22:59:04 GMT -5
Chapter One
It’s a late-night and the woods are dark and quiet. Eerily quiet in fact. As if some kind of magic had fallen over the trees. A white owl sits on a branch, it’s large eyes peering out in the darkness, able to see everything as if it was lit up by the sun. She stays on the branch, watching and listening to the woods like a sentinel. The only sound is the wind causing the tree branches to shake and scrape together. Suddenly a low murmur starts to roll through the trees, gradually growing in intensity. The owl cocks her head before spreading her white wings, taking off from the branch and flying above the trees heading towards the source of the noise. She soars above the pine trees, the noise becoming more clear. It was chanting.
There is a large clearing amongst the trees, a bright glow coming from it. The owl heads for it, dipping down to fly lower. A massive bonfire is shooting up in the clearing, burning bright. The chanting is becoming louder and more clear from the area. The owl dips down, coming down in a circle. She gazes down with her great eye-sight, seeing a shocking scene. A horde of people in dark robes, hoods pulled up over their heads, are standing around the bonfire. They chant in unison in an unintelligible language. She swoops down and lands on a branch, the towering inferno reflecting off her large eyes. The chanting stops, causing the owl to cock her head to the side as it becomes completely silent. All of the hooded head turned in one direction, almost simultaneously. The owl too turned her head to see what they all were looking at.
Out of the woods emerges someone in a crimson robe, the hood pulled low over the face. Red Robe walks with an air of confidence and authority, the long, blood red, robe dragging along the forest floor, cutting a path through the fallen pine needles. Red Robe is flanked by two people in dark robes like the others, though they give off the same air of superiority as the one in red. One is at least head and shoulders taller than Red Robe and even under the flowing robe one could see his broad chest and tell he had a powerful physique. He had a large burlap sack slung over his shoulder, that seemed to be moving as if something was inside... The other robed figure was much shorter than the first two and even under his large robe, one could tell he was very rotund. His small pale hands were exposed from the large sleeves of his robe, clutching a large clay jar. The owl continued to stare intently at the three men. Red Robe stopped in front of the blazing fire, his two compatriots standing at either side of him. All of the attention was on them as Red Robe raised his hands to the sky.
“Brothers and sisters!” came a deep, booming, voice from under the crimson cowl, “Tonight, we take the first step in fulfilling the prophecy!”
A low, excited, murmur echoes out through the crowd as Red Robe pauses. The owl continues to watch intently.
“Tonight, you will all bear witness as we open the gate between two planes of existence.” Red Robe pauses again for dramatic effect. “Tonight, we will bring the Dark Lord back!”
This elicits a cheer from the horde and causes the owl to widen her eyes even more than they already are. Red Robe turns to his back to the cheering crowd. He raises his hands to the sky once more and on cue the cheering goes silent. Red Robe then begins to chant, which the owl recognizes as a magic spell.
“Old Gods and New Gods, hear my voice,
Free the Dark Lord, for it is thy choice,
Let him take his throne for a king,
Because he has more change to bring.”
The fire seems to start dancing more wildly from his words, seemingly growing even bigger, its flames like fingers reaching for the stars. He motions to the portly one with his hand. He steps forward with the large, clay jar, pull the cork top off. Red Robe reaches inside and withdraws a huge snake. He grips the serpent under its head as it wriggles around. The crimson clad leader reaches into his robe with his free hand and procures a shiny dagger with a gold hilt. The rubies set in the golden handle glitter wildly from the blaze.
“I give you the gift of the serpent, for his stealth and cunning shall help.”
Red Robe uses a quick cutting motion with the dagger across the snakes neck. The creature’s life blood spills down his hand, blending in almost perfectly with his robe. He tosses the dead serpent into the flames. The fire consumes the snake, eating away at the scales and flesh. The fire shimmers as it feeds on the body of the serpent. Red Robe motions this time to the hulking robed figure. The big man walks over and slings the sack off his shoulder, and dumps it upside down. Out of it falls a fawn, who lands hard and awkwardly on the ground. It’s small hooves are bound together with rope, and its muzzle is bounce shut with the same rope. It struggles on the ground as it tries to escape it’s bonds, it’s muffled cries sounding very painful to the owl as she listens, as if it knew what fate awaited it. Red Robe squats down and grabs the fawn in a headlock as it continues to try and fight.
“I give you the gift of the innocent, for his unstained soul shall feed you.”
Red Robe brings the ceremonial dagger across the fawns throat, it’s blood spilling out and staining the pine needles red as the dirt drinks the red water. The fawn’s body jerks against it’s bounds one more time before it lays still. Red Robe stands and his massive crony lifts the dead fawn and toss it onto the pyre. The hot flames wrap around the the young deer’s body like the kraken of lore, starting to feed on the flesh and bone much faster then a normal flame. Red Robe takes the blood stained blade and wipes it off on his sleeve. He holds the dagger up along with his free hand.
“I give you the blood of the servant, for his loyalty will never waiver.”
Red Robe drags the dagger across his palm, separating the skin and blood begin to pour out. He steps closer to the fire and reach out over it, the flames seeming to part like the Red Sea. He makes a fist, droplets of his own blood falling into the flame. Red Robe wisely steps back as the fire burns even more brighter then before and begins to swirl, reaching higher towards the heavens. The cult leader raises his arms, his body forming a cross.
“Now rise, Lord Ba’lal!”, he screams into he fire, almost maniacally, “Rise and be reborn amongst us!”
The fire continues to swirl as the flames completely devour the offerings. A dark shape starts to form in the center, steadily growing. It starts to take a humanoid form. The owl’s eyes go wide as she continues to spy, her small heart beating widely in her feathered chest. The dark form steps forward, exiting the flame. The creature stood even taller then Red Robe’s hulking assistant and even more wide. It’s skin was as black as night, but hung loosely from it’s bones. It’s clawed feet dug into the soft dirt as it took a few steps forward, it’s knees bending backwards like a goat. It had the face of a serpent, with rows of razor sharp fang inside it’s wide maw. Two large dark horns shoot out from it’s head, jutting up and twisting towards the sky. It’s eyes were as red as the cult leaders robe and seemed to burn with the very fire of Hell.
Red Robe dropped to his knees and brought his head to the ground, bowing before the beast. The rest of the cult followed suit. The ugly creature surveyed the bowing crowd with his red eyes, it’s awful mouth seemingly turning into a smirk.
“Rise, McLaurin.” the beast says, it’s voice sounding cold and dark, like two icebergs scraping in the Arctic Sea. Red Robe rises but keeps his head bowed to his lord.
“You have done well.” The creatures continued, looking down at McLaurin. “I shall not forget what you have done. When the prophecy is fulfilled you shall have a place at my table.”
“Thank you, Lord Ba’lal!” exclaimed McLaurin, still bowing his red hooded head at Ba’lal. “It was my honor!”
Ball turns his gaze to his horde of hooded figures, his forked tongue dancing around his long fangs.
“Rise, my followers.” The Dark Lord said, and they listened. The had no choice not to. As they reached their feet, Ba’lal continued. “You all were instrumental in bringing me back into the plane of existence. You all have spread the gospel of Ba’lal.”
The Dark Lord gives them a toothy grin, one that caused the owl to shudder.
“And you all shall be rewarded handsomely for your loyalty! When I am King, we shall all rule this world!”
This gets a cheer from the crowd. Ba’lal turns his attention back to McLaurin.
“How goes the plans on the Electi?”
McLaurin clears his throat and looks up at his master.
“Very good, my Lord. Your curse seems to be taking a great toll on him from what we have been monitoring. It seems he could be close to breaking.”
Ba’lal grins.
“Good, good. Let us see if we can finish the job.”
McLaurin nods.
“Yes, my Lord. In fact, Brother Theodore here,” he gestures to the barrel chested robe wearer, “He has an inside track to expedite the process.”
The Dark Lord looks over at Theodore with his burning red eyes and gives a nod.
“See that it happens, Theodore.” The snake faced creature said. “You will be gloriously rewarded.”
Theodore nods and turns, walking off from the group and into the woods. Ba’lal turns back to McLaurin but he notices the owl. His red eyes narrow as he stares at it. The owl realizes the time is nigh and spreads her wings, taking off hurriedly from the scene. Ba’lal grins. Let them know. They couldn’t stop him this time.
The owl flew nonstop for a good half an hour before she reached camp. Amanda changed back into her elven form even before she landed, hitting hard on one knee. She panted hard as the group mixed with other elves, dwarfs, and even a goblin or two stared at her. Most of them were seated around a fire, cooking something in a large copper kettle.
“What is it?” asked another elf. who nervously tugged on one of his pointed ears. “Did you find out what it was?”
Amanda nodded as she still panted, the attention all on her.
“It’s him,” she gasped as she tried to catch her breath. “Warn everyone at the DMP. It’s a code crimson.”
A nervous murmur came from the group as they all looked at one another. That one one particularly gruff look dwarf piped up.
“Wait, now who just did you see?”
“Ba’lal.” Amanda said, getting a gasp from the collective. “He’s back.”
Chapter Two
Gerard ran his hand down his face, his fingers dragging through his unkempt stubble. It had been another terrible two weeks for the Hollywood Hero. Another match, another loss. If Gerry was tired last week, then he was exhausted at this point. He was starting to wonder why he even bothered anymore at this point. If he couldn’t beat someone who hasn’t wrestled in god knows how long, then why was he even there?
Gerry was seated in a Starbucks in New York City. He had the hood to his hoodie pulled low over his face in an attempt to stay incognito from fans. Nursing a hazel nut coffee, his eyes keep glancing up towards the door. He reached out and grabbed the other coffee cup in front of him to make sure it was still hot.
These past few weeks were the first time Gerard had honestly questioned the future of his career that didn’t involve an injury. In fact, it had him going through his entire tenure in PCW so far. The introspective had brought a shocking revelation to the Man Without Peer. Aside from his magical run of four months that started this time last year, he was simply average in PCW. That was a tough pill to swallow for Gerard, on top of everything else that was going on in his life. You factor that in along with the nonsense with the DMP, then Gerard was not only having the worst year of his career, but of his life.
Gerry rubbed his eyes with his thumb and his pointer before looking up at the entrance again. He hadn’t had a good nights sleep in months. Not even had his attempts to drown himself with copious amounts of alcohol had put him out enough. He still dreamt of evil things, including various incarnations of PCW talent. Just last night he had a dream where his room was flooded with sea water while the voice laughed as he drowned. Gerry assumed that was the thing tormenting him for losing to Brenna Gordon.
Gerard is snapped out of his musing when he looks up at the door and sees her walking in. He watches her walking in, getting that same feeling of butterflies in his stomach that he gets every time he sees her. Today she has her long, platinum blonde hair done up in a stylish bun, most of her face covered by a pair of large dark sunglasses. She has a white trench coat wrapped around her as her Jimmy Choo heels click on the floor as she walks over towards Gerard. She drops her Prada bag on the table as she pulls out a chair.
“Jesus Christ, Gerry, you look like shit.”
“Nice to see you too, Kara.” Gerry says with a slight smirk.
Kara De Marco, also known as Kara Danger in wrestling circles sits down across from her ex-husband. She pulls her expensive sunglasses off her face, looking at Gerard with her deep blue eyes. He manages to give her a smile and pushes the other coffee cup towards her, a small straw sticking out.
“I hope I remembered what you like.” He said, still smiling. “Decaf with one sugar and almond milk with a straw so you don’t ruin your lipstick?”
She stared at him for a second before her lips cracked a smile. Kara took the coffee cup and had a small sip.
“I’m surprised you remembered something as trivial as my coffee order after all these years.”
“I remember a lot of things.” Gerard said matter of factly. “Especially about you.”
They both sat there after that, looking at each other awkwardly. Oh god, Gerry, he thought to himself. Why can’t you ever play it cool around this girl. He looked down at his coffee, scratching at the cardboard hand protector with his thumb.
“I can’t really stay long.” Kara said, thankfully breaking the awkward silence. “We have a deadline to get the fall line out at the end of the week.”
Gerry nods.
“Yeah, I understand. You’re a big important person now.” Gerry said with a smirk. “Too busy to ever talk to old friends.”
Kara gave a little laugh and reached out, playfully punching the wrestler turned actor turned wrestler again in his large bicep.
“Hey! You’re the one who never hits me up. In fact, I was surprised you even DMed me on Instagram.”
“Well, that’s the only way to get in contact with you.” He said, mockingly rubbing his arm. “Since you never answer my texts.”
“You haven’t texted me in at least a year.” Kara says, raising an eyebrow at the man she once married. Gerard rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens up his texting app. He shows her his conversation with her number, letting her see a number of unanswered text messages. She looks at it and looks at him.
“I’m soooo sorry, Gerard.” She says, reaching out to grab his arm. “I never got any of those texts. You know I would always answer you, no matter what.”
Gerry looks at her hand and then into her eyes. He judges that she’s telling the truth and just offers her a half smirk.
“Technology right?” He says, patting her large hand on top of her small one. “It’s alright, Kara. No big deal.” He gives her a full smile to let her know its okay, which she returns. They stay like that for a moment before she clears her throat and removes her hand.
“So, um, what did you wanna talk about?” She asks, taking another sip of her coffee. “Was it something about wrestling?”
“Well, in fact yes.” Gerard says nodding, bringing his coffee cup to his lips. Kara actually gets a little excited talking about wrestling again.
“So what is it? Is it about the Deadly Rumble? Do you want to brainstorm a game plan?” Kara says excitedly, leaning in over the table. “I think I can do that. Didn’t you win this last year, right? What was it like? Do you thin-“
“I’m thinking about retiring.” Gerard says cutting her off. The excited look fades off of her face and she slide back down in her seat, his words hitting her like a ton of bricks. For the second time that day they sat there in silence, and once again Kara was the one to break it.
“I honestly never thought I would hear those words come out of your mouth, Gerard.” Kara says as she taps her painted bottom lip with a well manicured finger nail. “I remember when we were married thinking that you’d have to be carried out of the ring on a stretcher before you hung up the boots.”
“We all have to grow up sometime I guess.” Gerry says with a shrug, again fiddling with the cardboard sleeve around his Venti cup. Kara reaches out and grabs his hand, causing their eyes to meet.
“Listen, Gerard, for the longest time I’ve wanted you to say those words. If this was five years ago, I would’ve done my best to push you into retirement. But I don’t think you actually want to retire.”
Gerry gives a snort.
“Of course I don’t want to retire.” Gerard says, “But their are a lot of things going on outside of my control.”
“Are you talking about your losing streak?”
Gerry looked at the woman who was and is the only one he’s truly ever loved. This is was about the losing, streak but it was also about much more. He wanted to tell Kara all about the elves, goblins, and the Department of Magical Protection. He wanted to tell her about the awful things haunting his dreams at night. Tell her about how think of her was the only thing helping him keep his struggling grasp of his sanity. But he didn’t think she would believe him.
“Gerard?”
“Yes, it’s about my losing streak.” He said, half lying to her. She squeezed his hand.
“You’re just going through a rough patch, that’s all. You just need one big win to set everything right.”
“I haven’t won all year, KD.” Gerry said, giving a defeated laugh. “How am I suppose to win the Deadly Rumble?”
“You did last year. And nobody gave you a snowball’s chance in hell. After that, you went on to take the PCW title from the unbeatable. You of all people can do this. Don’t take the cowards way out.”
Gerry’s jaw drops as he looks at her and then smiles.
“You know, I needed that. Thank you.”
She smiles back at him.
“Listen your still the best wrestler I’ve ever seen. And I’m not just saying that because I’m biased.”
Gerard smiles at his ex. She was what he needed in his life. Someone that would support him no matter what. Someone that wouldn’t be fickle, and would love him unconditionally. She was the perfect woman and-
“Kara?” said a male’s voice unfamiliar to Gerard. Kara quickly snatched her hand away from his and stood up. Gerry looked up to see a tall, well built, good looking man stand by their table. He embraced Kara and he picked her up. Gerard’s mood went from great to complete horror as he watched them lock lips. He felt his stomach turn over as they broke their kiss.
“Oh my god, Theo! I thought you were out of town.” Kara beams at the man and he smiles down at her.
“I came back early to surprise you, babe.” Theo give her a pearly white smile and Gerard sees she just melts for him.
“How did you know where I was, babe?” She asked, smiling like a schoolgirl with a crush. Theo just shrugs.
“I used the find my iPhone app.”
“Aww.”
“Wait,” Gerry blurts out, interrupting their moment, “You tracked her down with an app?”
Kara looks over at Gerard like she just remembered he was there. She looks back at Theo.
“Theo, this is Gerard Angelo. Gerry, this is Theo Morgan. My fiancee.”
“Oh, this is Gerard.” Theo smirks and extends his hand to Gerard. “I’ve heard a lot about you, man.”
Gerard looks at his hand but shakes it for Kara’s sake. Theo grips his hand, giving it a squeeze. Gerry squeezed it back just as hard, not letting Theo punk him.
“Theo Morgan? The football player?”
He gives a cocky grin.
“In another life, yes. But now I’m a lawyer.”
“Oh great.”
Kara tells it’s about to get contentious so she interjects.
“Well, this was fun, Gerard. We should get together again soon.”
Gerry just gives a shrug. She turns to Theo.
“Babe, want to walk me to work?” She says smiling. Theo grins cockily again.
“Sure thing, babe. Hey, Gerald, it was good to finally meet you.”
Theo wraps his arm around Gerard’s ex-wife and they both exit the Starbucks, leaving Gerard questioning his life again.
It’s a late-night and the woods are dark and quiet. Eerily quiet in fact. As if some kind of magic had fallen over the trees. A white owl sits on a branch, it’s large eyes peering out in the darkness, able to see everything as if it was lit up by the sun. She stays on the branch, watching and listening to the woods like a sentinel. The only sound is the wind causing the tree branches to shake and scrape together. Suddenly a low murmur starts to roll through the trees, gradually growing in intensity. The owl cocks her head before spreading her white wings, taking off from the branch and flying above the trees heading towards the source of the noise. She soars above the pine trees, the noise becoming more clear. It was chanting.
There is a large clearing amongst the trees, a bright glow coming from it. The owl heads for it, dipping down to fly lower. A massive bonfire is shooting up in the clearing, burning bright. The chanting is becoming louder and more clear from the area. The owl dips down, coming down in a circle. She gazes down with her great eye-sight, seeing a shocking scene. A horde of people in dark robes, hoods pulled up over their heads, are standing around the bonfire. They chant in unison in an unintelligible language. She swoops down and lands on a branch, the towering inferno reflecting off her large eyes. The chanting stops, causing the owl to cock her head to the side as it becomes completely silent. All of the hooded head turned in one direction, almost simultaneously. The owl too turned her head to see what they all were looking at.
Out of the woods emerges someone in a crimson robe, the hood pulled low over the face. Red Robe walks with an air of confidence and authority, the long, blood red, robe dragging along the forest floor, cutting a path through the fallen pine needles. Red Robe is flanked by two people in dark robes like the others, though they give off the same air of superiority as the one in red. One is at least head and shoulders taller than Red Robe and even under the flowing robe one could see his broad chest and tell he had a powerful physique. He had a large burlap sack slung over his shoulder, that seemed to be moving as if something was inside... The other robed figure was much shorter than the first two and even under his large robe, one could tell he was very rotund. His small pale hands were exposed from the large sleeves of his robe, clutching a large clay jar. The owl continued to stare intently at the three men. Red Robe stopped in front of the blazing fire, his two compatriots standing at either side of him. All of the attention was on them as Red Robe raised his hands to the sky.
“Brothers and sisters!” came a deep, booming, voice from under the crimson cowl, “Tonight, we take the first step in fulfilling the prophecy!”
A low, excited, murmur echoes out through the crowd as Red Robe pauses. The owl continues to watch intently.
“Tonight, you will all bear witness as we open the gate between two planes of existence.” Red Robe pauses again for dramatic effect. “Tonight, we will bring the Dark Lord back!”
This elicits a cheer from the horde and causes the owl to widen her eyes even more than they already are. Red Robe turns to his back to the cheering crowd. He raises his hands to the sky once more and on cue the cheering goes silent. Red Robe then begins to chant, which the owl recognizes as a magic spell.
“Old Gods and New Gods, hear my voice,
Free the Dark Lord, for it is thy choice,
Let him take his throne for a king,
Because he has more change to bring.”
The fire seems to start dancing more wildly from his words, seemingly growing even bigger, its flames like fingers reaching for the stars. He motions to the portly one with his hand. He steps forward with the large, clay jar, pull the cork top off. Red Robe reaches inside and withdraws a huge snake. He grips the serpent under its head as it wriggles around. The crimson clad leader reaches into his robe with his free hand and procures a shiny dagger with a gold hilt. The rubies set in the golden handle glitter wildly from the blaze.
“I give you the gift of the serpent, for his stealth and cunning shall help.”
Red Robe uses a quick cutting motion with the dagger across the snakes neck. The creature’s life blood spills down his hand, blending in almost perfectly with his robe. He tosses the dead serpent into the flames. The fire consumes the snake, eating away at the scales and flesh. The fire shimmers as it feeds on the body of the serpent. Red Robe motions this time to the hulking robed figure. The big man walks over and slings the sack off his shoulder, and dumps it upside down. Out of it falls a fawn, who lands hard and awkwardly on the ground. It’s small hooves are bound together with rope, and its muzzle is bounce shut with the same rope. It struggles on the ground as it tries to escape it’s bonds, it’s muffled cries sounding very painful to the owl as she listens, as if it knew what fate awaited it. Red Robe squats down and grabs the fawn in a headlock as it continues to try and fight.
“I give you the gift of the innocent, for his unstained soul shall feed you.”
Red Robe brings the ceremonial dagger across the fawns throat, it’s blood spilling out and staining the pine needles red as the dirt drinks the red water. The fawn’s body jerks against it’s bounds one more time before it lays still. Red Robe stands and his massive crony lifts the dead fawn and toss it onto the pyre. The hot flames wrap around the the young deer’s body like the kraken of lore, starting to feed on the flesh and bone much faster then a normal flame. Red Robe takes the blood stained blade and wipes it off on his sleeve. He holds the dagger up along with his free hand.
“I give you the blood of the servant, for his loyalty will never waiver.”
Red Robe drags the dagger across his palm, separating the skin and blood begin to pour out. He steps closer to the fire and reach out over it, the flames seeming to part like the Red Sea. He makes a fist, droplets of his own blood falling into the flame. Red Robe wisely steps back as the fire burns even more brighter then before and begins to swirl, reaching higher towards the heavens. The cult leader raises his arms, his body forming a cross.
“Now rise, Lord Ba’lal!”, he screams into he fire, almost maniacally, “Rise and be reborn amongst us!”
The fire continues to swirl as the flames completely devour the offerings. A dark shape starts to form in the center, steadily growing. It starts to take a humanoid form. The owl’s eyes go wide as she continues to spy, her small heart beating widely in her feathered chest. The dark form steps forward, exiting the flame. The creature stood even taller then Red Robe’s hulking assistant and even more wide. It’s skin was as black as night, but hung loosely from it’s bones. It’s clawed feet dug into the soft dirt as it took a few steps forward, it’s knees bending backwards like a goat. It had the face of a serpent, with rows of razor sharp fang inside it’s wide maw. Two large dark horns shoot out from it’s head, jutting up and twisting towards the sky. It’s eyes were as red as the cult leaders robe and seemed to burn with the very fire of Hell.
Red Robe dropped to his knees and brought his head to the ground, bowing before the beast. The rest of the cult followed suit. The ugly creature surveyed the bowing crowd with his red eyes, it’s awful mouth seemingly turning into a smirk.
“Rise, McLaurin.” the beast says, it’s voice sounding cold and dark, like two icebergs scraping in the Arctic Sea. Red Robe rises but keeps his head bowed to his lord.
“You have done well.” The creatures continued, looking down at McLaurin. “I shall not forget what you have done. When the prophecy is fulfilled you shall have a place at my table.”
“Thank you, Lord Ba’lal!” exclaimed McLaurin, still bowing his red hooded head at Ba’lal. “It was my honor!”
Ball turns his gaze to his horde of hooded figures, his forked tongue dancing around his long fangs.
“Rise, my followers.” The Dark Lord said, and they listened. The had no choice not to. As they reached their feet, Ba’lal continued. “You all were instrumental in bringing me back into the plane of existence. You all have spread the gospel of Ba’lal.”
The Dark Lord gives them a toothy grin, one that caused the owl to shudder.
“And you all shall be rewarded handsomely for your loyalty! When I am King, we shall all rule this world!”
This gets a cheer from the crowd. Ba’lal turns his attention back to McLaurin.
“How goes the plans on the Electi?”
McLaurin clears his throat and looks up at his master.
“Very good, my Lord. Your curse seems to be taking a great toll on him from what we have been monitoring. It seems he could be close to breaking.”
Ba’lal grins.
“Good, good. Let us see if we can finish the job.”
McLaurin nods.
“Yes, my Lord. In fact, Brother Theodore here,” he gestures to the barrel chested robe wearer, “He has an inside track to expedite the process.”
The Dark Lord looks over at Theodore with his burning red eyes and gives a nod.
“See that it happens, Theodore.” The snake faced creature said. “You will be gloriously rewarded.”
Theodore nods and turns, walking off from the group and into the woods. Ba’lal turns back to McLaurin but he notices the owl. His red eyes narrow as he stares at it. The owl realizes the time is nigh and spreads her wings, taking off hurriedly from the scene. Ba’lal grins. Let them know. They couldn’t stop him this time.
The owl flew nonstop for a good half an hour before she reached camp. Amanda changed back into her elven form even before she landed, hitting hard on one knee. She panted hard as the group mixed with other elves, dwarfs, and even a goblin or two stared at her. Most of them were seated around a fire, cooking something in a large copper kettle.
“What is it?” asked another elf. who nervously tugged on one of his pointed ears. “Did you find out what it was?”
Amanda nodded as she still panted, the attention all on her.
“It’s him,” she gasped as she tried to catch her breath. “Warn everyone at the DMP. It’s a code crimson.”
A nervous murmur came from the group as they all looked at one another. That one one particularly gruff look dwarf piped up.
“Wait, now who just did you see?”
“Ba’lal.” Amanda said, getting a gasp from the collective. “He’s back.”
Chapter Two
Gerard ran his hand down his face, his fingers dragging through his unkempt stubble. It had been another terrible two weeks for the Hollywood Hero. Another match, another loss. If Gerry was tired last week, then he was exhausted at this point. He was starting to wonder why he even bothered anymore at this point. If he couldn’t beat someone who hasn’t wrestled in god knows how long, then why was he even there?
Gerry was seated in a Starbucks in New York City. He had the hood to his hoodie pulled low over his face in an attempt to stay incognito from fans. Nursing a hazel nut coffee, his eyes keep glancing up towards the door. He reached out and grabbed the other coffee cup in front of him to make sure it was still hot.
These past few weeks were the first time Gerard had honestly questioned the future of his career that didn’t involve an injury. In fact, it had him going through his entire tenure in PCW so far. The introspective had brought a shocking revelation to the Man Without Peer. Aside from his magical run of four months that started this time last year, he was simply average in PCW. That was a tough pill to swallow for Gerard, on top of everything else that was going on in his life. You factor that in along with the nonsense with the DMP, then Gerard was not only having the worst year of his career, but of his life.
Gerry rubbed his eyes with his thumb and his pointer before looking up at the entrance again. He hadn’t had a good nights sleep in months. Not even had his attempts to drown himself with copious amounts of alcohol had put him out enough. He still dreamt of evil things, including various incarnations of PCW talent. Just last night he had a dream where his room was flooded with sea water while the voice laughed as he drowned. Gerry assumed that was the thing tormenting him for losing to Brenna Gordon.
Gerard is snapped out of his musing when he looks up at the door and sees her walking in. He watches her walking in, getting that same feeling of butterflies in his stomach that he gets every time he sees her. Today she has her long, platinum blonde hair done up in a stylish bun, most of her face covered by a pair of large dark sunglasses. She has a white trench coat wrapped around her as her Jimmy Choo heels click on the floor as she walks over towards Gerard. She drops her Prada bag on the table as she pulls out a chair.
“Jesus Christ, Gerry, you look like shit.”
“Nice to see you too, Kara.” Gerry says with a slight smirk.
Kara De Marco, also known as Kara Danger in wrestling circles sits down across from her ex-husband. She pulls her expensive sunglasses off her face, looking at Gerard with her deep blue eyes. He manages to give her a smile and pushes the other coffee cup towards her, a small straw sticking out.
“I hope I remembered what you like.” He said, still smiling. “Decaf with one sugar and almond milk with a straw so you don’t ruin your lipstick?”
She stared at him for a second before her lips cracked a smile. Kara took the coffee cup and had a small sip.
“I’m surprised you remembered something as trivial as my coffee order after all these years.”
“I remember a lot of things.” Gerard said matter of factly. “Especially about you.”
They both sat there after that, looking at each other awkwardly. Oh god, Gerry, he thought to himself. Why can’t you ever play it cool around this girl. He looked down at his coffee, scratching at the cardboard hand protector with his thumb.
“I can’t really stay long.” Kara said, thankfully breaking the awkward silence. “We have a deadline to get the fall line out at the end of the week.”
Gerry nods.
“Yeah, I understand. You’re a big important person now.” Gerry said with a smirk. “Too busy to ever talk to old friends.”
Kara gave a little laugh and reached out, playfully punching the wrestler turned actor turned wrestler again in his large bicep.
“Hey! You’re the one who never hits me up. In fact, I was surprised you even DMed me on Instagram.”
“Well, that’s the only way to get in contact with you.” He said, mockingly rubbing his arm. “Since you never answer my texts.”
“You haven’t texted me in at least a year.” Kara says, raising an eyebrow at the man she once married. Gerard rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens up his texting app. He shows her his conversation with her number, letting her see a number of unanswered text messages. She looks at it and looks at him.
“I’m soooo sorry, Gerard.” She says, reaching out to grab his arm. “I never got any of those texts. You know I would always answer you, no matter what.”
Gerry looks at her hand and then into her eyes. He judges that she’s telling the truth and just offers her a half smirk.
“Technology right?” He says, patting her large hand on top of her small one. “It’s alright, Kara. No big deal.” He gives her a full smile to let her know its okay, which she returns. They stay like that for a moment before she clears her throat and removes her hand.
“So, um, what did you wanna talk about?” She asks, taking another sip of her coffee. “Was it something about wrestling?”
“Well, in fact yes.” Gerard says nodding, bringing his coffee cup to his lips. Kara actually gets a little excited talking about wrestling again.
“So what is it? Is it about the Deadly Rumble? Do you want to brainstorm a game plan?” Kara says excitedly, leaning in over the table. “I think I can do that. Didn’t you win this last year, right? What was it like? Do you thin-“
“I’m thinking about retiring.” Gerard says cutting her off. The excited look fades off of her face and she slide back down in her seat, his words hitting her like a ton of bricks. For the second time that day they sat there in silence, and once again Kara was the one to break it.
“I honestly never thought I would hear those words come out of your mouth, Gerard.” Kara says as she taps her painted bottom lip with a well manicured finger nail. “I remember when we were married thinking that you’d have to be carried out of the ring on a stretcher before you hung up the boots.”
“We all have to grow up sometime I guess.” Gerry says with a shrug, again fiddling with the cardboard sleeve around his Venti cup. Kara reaches out and grabs his hand, causing their eyes to meet.
“Listen, Gerard, for the longest time I’ve wanted you to say those words. If this was five years ago, I would’ve done my best to push you into retirement. But I don’t think you actually want to retire.”
Gerry gives a snort.
“Of course I don’t want to retire.” Gerard says, “But their are a lot of things going on outside of my control.”
“Are you talking about your losing streak?”
Gerry looked at the woman who was and is the only one he’s truly ever loved. This is was about the losing, streak but it was also about much more. He wanted to tell Kara all about the elves, goblins, and the Department of Magical Protection. He wanted to tell her about the awful things haunting his dreams at night. Tell her about how think of her was the only thing helping him keep his struggling grasp of his sanity. But he didn’t think she would believe him.
“Gerard?”
“Yes, it’s about my losing streak.” He said, half lying to her. She squeezed his hand.
“You’re just going through a rough patch, that’s all. You just need one big win to set everything right.”
“I haven’t won all year, KD.” Gerry said, giving a defeated laugh. “How am I suppose to win the Deadly Rumble?”
“You did last year. And nobody gave you a snowball’s chance in hell. After that, you went on to take the PCW title from the unbeatable. You of all people can do this. Don’t take the cowards way out.”
Gerry’s jaw drops as he looks at her and then smiles.
“You know, I needed that. Thank you.”
She smiles back at him.
“Listen your still the best wrestler I’ve ever seen. And I’m not just saying that because I’m biased.”
Gerard smiles at his ex. She was what he needed in his life. Someone that would support him no matter what. Someone that wouldn’t be fickle, and would love him unconditionally. She was the perfect woman and-
“Kara?” said a male’s voice unfamiliar to Gerard. Kara quickly snatched her hand away from his and stood up. Gerry looked up to see a tall, well built, good looking man stand by their table. He embraced Kara and he picked her up. Gerard’s mood went from great to complete horror as he watched them lock lips. He felt his stomach turn over as they broke their kiss.
“Oh my god, Theo! I thought you were out of town.” Kara beams at the man and he smiles down at her.
“I came back early to surprise you, babe.” Theo give her a pearly white smile and Gerard sees she just melts for him.
“How did you know where I was, babe?” She asked, smiling like a schoolgirl with a crush. Theo just shrugs.
“I used the find my iPhone app.”
“Aww.”
“Wait,” Gerry blurts out, interrupting their moment, “You tracked her down with an app?”
Kara looks over at Gerard like she just remembered he was there. She looks back at Theo.
“Theo, this is Gerard Angelo. Gerry, this is Theo Morgan. My fiancee.”
“Oh, this is Gerard.” Theo smirks and extends his hand to Gerard. “I’ve heard a lot about you, man.”
Gerard looks at his hand but shakes it for Kara’s sake. Theo grips his hand, giving it a squeeze. Gerry squeezed it back just as hard, not letting Theo punk him.
“Theo Morgan? The football player?”
He gives a cocky grin.
“In another life, yes. But now I’m a lawyer.”
“Oh great.”
Kara tells it’s about to get contentious so she interjects.
“Well, this was fun, Gerard. We should get together again soon.”
Gerry just gives a shrug. She turns to Theo.
“Babe, want to walk me to work?” She says smiling. Theo grins cockily again.
“Sure thing, babe. Hey, Gerald, it was good to finally meet you.”
Theo wraps his arm around Gerard’s ex-wife and they both exit the Starbucks, leaving Gerard questioning his life again.