A Tragic and Beautiful Descent Part 5: Revelations

[Joka]

Life is funny.  One moment you're on top and the next, you're not.  Life has this way of really kicking you in the bawls at times but it also has a knack for surprising you with little twists and turns along the way.  My name is Byron and I'm a nobody.  Not like an ordinary nobody but rather an extraordinary nobody.  In this mortal coil, I'm famous and infamous as a wrestler and MMA fighter.  In the ethereal, I'm famous and infamous for going to Hell and killing demons, which is a slight that the Devil took as a big middle finger.  In both realms, the good guys don't like me and the bad guys despise me.  I'm a sort of in-betweener in that respect.  I'm not welcome in Heaven, I've been banned from Hell, and I'm despised on Earth.  One soul in this measly dimension has had my back through it all though.  Some might call him my manager, some might say he is my bodyguard, and some might even go so far as to say he is a follower.  Darren Silvaira is nothing but a friend and a damn good one at that.  My head is crawling with alternate personalities and one of those personalities killed someone that both him and I loved deeply and yet, his friendship has never wavered because of it.

Watching my dear friend win the Last Chance Battle Royal in the Icemann Invitational has brought a happiness back that has long been missing.  He has done something that I never could.  It's weird watching the roles being reversed.  When I handed control of my company over to him, he stepped away from squared circles and octagons, and it has been many years since he's won a match.  I'd say I'm proud of him but that is an understatement.  Most in my position may be jealous that a student of theirs is matching their achievements and even surpassing them but not me.  I have many faults and jealousy is not one of them.  I take pride in being the one who taught Monster most of what he knows.  When I met him, he threw wild punches and was a reckless teenager.  Now he is a well oiled fighting machine and disciplined to his core.  However, pride is still a sin and if I was to pick a sin right now, I'd take pride over envy any day of the week.

The knock on the door is loud, even audible over my computer speakers playing music.  I know who it is even before I open the door and I could've yelled for him to just come in but I drop what I'm doing and run to the door, emphatically swinging it open to see Monster standing in the small hallway with a grin from ear-to-ear.

"Come 'ere and gimme a hug ya big, dumb, salad!" I yell out as I spread my arms out.  He leans down and enters the apartment and we embrace each other like family.  I've known this man for years so of course we are on a hugging basis.  "Ya smell like a winner!"

"So you were watching?!"  He exclaims as we both walk into the main area of the studio apartment.  He takes a seat on my bed as I pull the computer chair over to him and sit backwards in it, resting my arms on the back rest.  He leans forward with a smile as our eyes lock.

"That was a hell of a match there, homie.  It looked like none of em stood a chance!"  I say to him scratching the bald circle on my head where the electrodes go in my VR therapy sessions.  "You were too high speed for d'em boys.  If they were smart, they would'a ganged up on y'er ass and threw y'er ass to the floor first thing."

"Please.  You taught me enough about match psychology for me to know how to deter something like that from happening.  I'm just glad the next biggest guy came at me so I could get him out early and mop up the rest."  Monster explains to me as I pull out a cigarette and light it up.

"So what'cha think of this guy you got on the next Trauma?  Sermon... Seromean... fuck I don't know how to pronounce that shit.  I'm just gonna call him Sero for short."  I ask him, babbling on as I talk to myself.  Monster has never cared much when I do that but I definitely do it a lot apparently.  "You don't know... do you?"  He quickly inquires of me.

"No... should I?"  I mumble out with a confused look on my face.  The smile on his face is growing more and more by the second as I start to get a little agitated.  "Ah c'mon maaaan... don't leave me hanging!"

"Seromine... is Jason Willard!"  He says.  My face is total befuddlement and Darren notices.  "Wait, do you not know who Willard is?"

"No no... I remember Jason Willard, but wasn't he called the Anarchist or something similarly dark and cryptic?  Why is he masquerading around as a preacher-man now?  Did he find Jesus?"  I utter with a serious face as Monster loses his composure and starts cracking little breathy giggles.

"I... I don't know if he found Jesus... but he isn't a saint.  I don't think he is an actual preacher... just a cult leader.  I haven't been able to do much research on him but I did watch some old Trauma episodes on the plane ride."  He states matter-of-factly as my thoughts drift away and I scratch the beard that has been growing bigger and bigger over the last few weeks.  "As you know, Byron, I'm not one to concentrate on my opponents personality.  I'm more concerned with his wrestling abilities and his wrestling abilities are superb.  He is a technical wrestler up-and-down.  I will have a tough time keeping up with him."

"Ya know what y'er problem is?  Y'er too damn humble.  Oh... my opponent is sooo good.  I wonder how I'll ever beat him???"  I bark at him as I speak in a feeble voice.

"Unlike you, I respect all of my opponents equally.  Seromine may be a bad man but when I face him, I shall respect him like any other.  That's how I am able to overcome my obstacles, Byron.  I could be fighting a person new to wrestling and I will always show them the same respect as if I was fighting a skilled veteran."  Monster states this as I've been steadily scratching the shaved circles on my head more and more.  Monster notices this and leans forward from the bed.

"I thought the shaved parts of your head had bandages covering them."  He says as I stick my tongue out and scratch more.

"They did... I took them off.  These spots they shaved for the wires are itching like crazy.  I couldn't take it anymore!"  I answer to him as the scratching intensifies.

"Byron, you have a hole in your skull with wires going through.  Your head is probably itching from that.  You need to put the bandages back on and leave the spot alone so you don't accidentally move one of the wires."  He lectures to me like an adult consulting a child.

"I'll be fine..."  I state out loud as my vision goes dark and I feel my body hit the floor.

"Byron... Byron... Byron.. Byron"

His voice echoes in the dark for what seems like an eternity and then my vision comes back.  The landscape is familiar.  I've been here before.  How long ago was that?

"Byron"

I can still hear my name being called out but by who?  I'm supine in the dust and sand and a part of me doesn't want to stand up.  Red lightning streaks across the sky periodically with sounds of booming thunder rolling in from miles away.  My heart begins to race wildly as I remember this hellscape.  These are the Plains of Sorrow. That dreaded place nestled nicely in between Earth and Hell.  I visited this dreadful place when I was murdered in Deathcore Wrestling by Crisis.  Crisis cut my torso open and hung me by the rafters using my own intestines as the rope.  What a way to go, right?  I couldn't ask for a more awesome death but no, Death was not content to just hang me out to dry and let my name live on in infamy.

The more I thought about Death, the more I wanted to get up and find him or better yet, do something so he'd come find me.  However, it was so nice laying there watching the lightning strikes streak across the sky.  Reminds me of summer in Oklahoma.  The storms can come rolling in at any time and can turn a bright day dark.  I use to love watching the storms.  I can never have what I want as I hear my name on the wind once again.  It's no longer Darren's voice commanding me though.  I much deeper voice is ringing out now.

"Byron... stand up."

I stand and look around as I wipe the dust from my jeans and shirt.  Suddenly and violently, a dark, black, hole opens up in front of me.  The hole is swirling with the particles on the edge of it fading and disappearing. I've never been one to contemplate an action for too long and I take a step toward the portal.  It pulses and ungulates in the hellscape, almost calling out to me to enter.  I take one more step and the hole pulls me into it and violently tosses me out of the other side onto a rock formation.  I look up and see him, his tattered black robes dancing in the wind.  His gaze is opposite of me, looking out over a great cliff on the plateau we are standing on.  A take a step toward him but stop as his grating voice pierces into my ears like knives.

"Byron... how long has it been?"

"Not long enough, Thanatos.  Enough with the chit-chat, yeah.  Did I just have a heart attack or stroke out or something?"  I beg of him as I move in closer, my right hand instinctively reaching over and touching the Mark of Thanatos on my left shoulder.  He seems to notice this as his hooded head moves to his left, his face still shrouded.

"No.  That is not why you are here.  You cannot die."  He states as his left hand swings back and forth, inviting me over to stand next to him.  I walk forward and look out at it.  The plains seem to stretch out forever with enormous plateaus jutting out from the ground like the one we are standing on.  I can't help but get lost in the sight of it all but my attention is quickly diverted.

"Byron... not all is what it seems.  The last time you visited, you were connected to Dr. Corrigan and Dr. Townsend's virtual reality device. I couldn't wait any longer for you to be connected through that device again.  I had to call you here in another way."

"So the itching on my head?  Wait... did you make me pass out on my floor???"  I yell out in disgust as his gaze is unwavering and he continues to look out over the plains.

"Yes."

"Oh... oh my Gawd!  Gross!  Do you know what is on that floor?  If I put a blacklight on it, it would look like a Jackson Pollock painting!"  I bellow, scrunching up my nose and wincing at the thought of my unconscious body even touching that floor.

"It is YOUR floor and it is a safe spot.  Darren Silvaira has called for an ambulance but I will send you back to your mortal coil before it arrives."  He says as he turns to me.  He reaches up and pulls the hood down revealing milky white skin and a bald head.  His eyes lock onto mine.  Thanatos has a fear inducing gaze that will make any other man cry, but his gaze elicits anger in me.

"Byron.  You and Darren Silvaira are in danger.  Dr. Townsend isn't what he seems."  He coldly states.

"So WHAT is he?"  I ask, dumbfounded by his response and emphasizing the word what, mistakenly thinking he had used it instead of the word who.

"Dr. Townsend is being controlled by a demon disguising himself as human.  He has crossed over into the material and is no longer bound by the ethereal."

"A demon?  I thought demons couldn't travel to Earth.  I thought they could only possess someone."  I say to him, visibly confused as to why a demon is hunting me from hell.  In my time in DCW, Johnny Nailz, Reaper, and I all traveled to Hell from the labyrinth under the Deathcore Arena.  Reaper and I specifically slaughtered a whole regiment of demons right before rescuing Nailz.  Memories of that fateful encounter flooding my mind as Thanatos moves in closer and lays a hand on my shoulder in the exact spot where the Mark of Thanatos is.

"This demon is very powerful.  This demon was a sorcerer for a king in the Babylonian Empire.  He is versed in very powerful magics."  He says, with a visible smile forming on my face.  He can sense my reticence and disbelief as he continues.  "You live in a world where Elves exist.  In your time in DCW, you befriended a man possessed by a demon, a demon that gave him the ability to shoot fire from his hands.  In PCW, you wrestled an alien named Outer Limits.  How is it so hard to believe that a sorcerer exists?"

"I don't know.  Still kind of hard to believe in magic, ya know."  I say while giggling at the thought of a magical demon hunting me down.  "Kind of hard to take this seriously."

"Well you will need to take it seriously."  He says.

"Why?  I've killed demons before.  What's so special about this one?"  I ask of him as he steps back at my arrogance.  He again looks out over the plains as he leans down and takes a seat on the cliff side, the bottom of his robe hanging over.  I step forward and take a seat next to him as he looks at me again.  He places his cold hand on my shoulder.

"This demon is special... because... his name is Belasko.  Byron... he is your father."

My vision goes dark and those words ring out in my mind like a siren.  The only thing I can think about is, if this man is my father and he was alive thousands of years ago, does that mean he was a demon when he impregnated my mother?  Does this mean I'm half human and half demon?  Is that why I have all of  these voices in my head?  Is Joka the demonic evil in me incarnate?  My mother had always told me my father left when I was a baby.  She said he was a deadbeat.

Life is funny...