i am jesus christ / the nation of domination

[chaos lite]

mommy’s alright… daddy’s alright…
they just seem a little weird

september.12.thirteen11:50pm

”Surrender… surrender… but don’t give yourself away…”

Dr. Norman N. Nemo.

I’ve been sitting here, silent, a prisoner in the confines of my home for the better part of an hour. I don’t think a single sound has escaped my mouth, and perhaps it was on purpose-- a spiteful attempt to ward off the vengeful woman sitting on the tattered couch across from me, strumming away on her acoustic guitar? It was a piece of work, truly. I don’t know if she appreciated what she held: a 1986 Martin J40-M. My eyes remained on her fingers, swiftly and effortlessly playing a bare version of the song… I tried, but failed to tune out her delicate vocals. They were haunting.

”Father says, your mother’s right, she’s…”

Aubrey J. Parker extended her fingers, placing a hand over the neck of the guitar. She smiled at me and tilted her head to the side a bit, before addressing me in a voice that I could only describe as mocking.

”Not a Cheap Trick fan, Norm? My God, is there any music that you DO like? Do you sit there like a zombie at concerts, huh?”

My wife isn’t here. Aubrey knew. She just came here.

”Okay… you’re from Columbus. I know what you’ll like. I promise-- you’ll love this.”

I let her in.

”Tin soldiers and Nixon’s comin’... We’re finally on our own…”

this summer i hear the drumming
four dead in ohio

april.27.fortyfive

Terrified. Bitter. Confused.

Thirty-three year old Claretta Petacci sat, eyes squeezed shut, and fists clenched, one squeezing the hand of the once-powerful man sitting to her right. Twenty-eight years her senior, she had put all of her faith, all of her trust in the man that once ruled an entire country with an iron fist… And now, they were sitting in silence, traveling with a convoy of men, dutifully named the “Italian Social Republic.” Puppets that she neither trusted nor liked. It was far from her place to say a word, so with each order she smiled. She nodded. And her heart sank, with each mile they traveled.

The plan had been explained to her, and it had been simple. With the convoy, they travel to Switzerland; they board a plane, and they flee. They make their way to Spain, and they leave the trouble, and the threats behind them.

But for hours, she had been dreading the worst.

And the worst was here.

”Uscire dal treno! Fuori!”

They came to an abrupt halt. And approaching the cabin of the train, viewing the seventeen passengers was a man that Claretta would remember vividly during the last hours of her life-- Urbano Lazzaro. His eyes fell upon her, and then on the man who sat, stone-faced and cold in the face of defeat. Urbano turned and extended a broad smile to one of his partners, standing just out of Claretta’s view on the outside of the train.

”Certo! Benito Mussolini…”

gotta get down to it
soldiers are gunning us down

september.12.thirteen11:56pm

”Yes, madam, I am finished. My star has fallen. I have no fight left in me. I work and I try, yet know that all is but a farce ... I await the end of the tragedy and – strangely detached from everything – I do not feel any more an actor. I feel I am the last of spectators.”

The joyful look in Aubrey’s eyes had disappeared. The acoustic had been lied to the side, propped against the couch, and her eyes burned into mine. I spoke not a word to the Hell I’d allowed entrance.

”Mussolini said that about a month before he got killed by the very men that he was supposed to lead. Ya know-- some people say he wasn’t so bad of a guy? A lot of people think that his morals may not have been in the wrong place, but his power… oh, so much power... it fucked him up. He started making these brash, unpopular decisions-- and at first, it was so he could keep the people happy, right? But soon, he realized that it didn’t matter what he did… he just couldn’t please everyone. Or worse.

Eventually, he became indifferent toward his leadership position, and he was forced out of office after a vote of no confidence.”

She looked at me, expectantly. I’d already connected the dots. She knew I had. I didn’t need to speak to confirm it. Her tone changed, abruptly.

”You know… I hate that my job consistently falls into the hands of imbeciles. I hated that Stefan Raab, an idiot, and a dictator was ruling the show that I called home. I was overjoyed when Reaver beat him at Shockwave and took Asylum away from him-- and then I was promptly horrified when Jason Kash assumed the position on Sunday-- but then I really started thinking about it, and it’s not really that surprising. Is it?

President Jeff is a fascist. And Jason Kash is the puppet figurehead. Just LOOK! They share the same ideals, Norm! They believe that they can achieve rejuvenation through VIOLENCE! Through eliminating the classes that separate the Young Mannies from the Terry Marvins. They won’t tolerate weakness, but they hide the flaws of the chosen… the fortunate… those that share their beliefs, and their outlook, and they try to portray them as equals. But, it’s for what they believe is the betterment of this business. Of their nation.

And don’t think that I’m taking a snap at the hand that feeds, Norm, because that’s not what this is. I respect Jeff’s ability to make money, and generate every bump in the road into a profit, and I respect the fact that Jason Kash, hands-down is one of the best wrestlers to ever step foot in an Asylum ring… I do. But tell me why Jason Kash spent the entire fucking winter embarrassing this company, and he gets rewarded with a managerial position, while I have to crawl through SHIT to win Test for the Best and I don’t even get an up-nod backstage at the shows…”

She giggled and shook her head.

”It’s alright though. If his first act as General Manager is to book himself and Reeves in a match against Sally and I… then…”

My eyes flickered up toward her, during the pause in her tangent. She sighs, almost pleasantly and folds her hands in her lap.

”Then I guess I have no choice. It doesn’t matter what I want… and I bitched, and I moaned, and I threatened to leave the company, but I didn’t, Norm, because even when paired with a cunt, I’m still a lady. And a lady always keeps her word… and I promised, a week ago, that Aubrey J. Parker was taking no days off. And by golly, I’m stickin’ to it, mister.”

Our eyes didn’t part from the other’s. She was still wearing a smile that I couldn’t prove was artificial, and I was still stoic.

”I’m gonna be the best partner that Sally Talfourd has ever had, because people like Foul Play DESERVE to have AJP at her best. Jason Kash is going to go down in history. He’s going to be known as the leader that damn-near killed his own nation. Of course, like the heroine I am, I’ll swoop in and pick up the pieces, but before Kash unwittingly orchestrates the demise of Action Packed Wrestling, I get to orchestrate the slow but inevitable fall of Foul Play! And yes… Kash said his hand would rise, and it has. The guy started in the gutter, worked his way up to near-legendary status on Asylum, and just look at him now! And REAVER-- Reaver…

...it’s a hell of a Cinderella story for Reeves, huh? He finally found somebody that’s even lower on the food chain than he is, and he took full advantage of it, completely PULVERIZING big, bad Raab at Shockwave. And then he did it again, Norm! He did it again on Asylum a week ago, and the crowd cheeeeered, and everyone in the locker-room rejoooiiiced, and it was a truly touching moment. But if you want me to admit something difficult, it’s this… Reaver is on right now. He’s on the high of his life, and he’s riding a wave of momentum that I could only dream of. I don’t see Reaver and Jason Kash as the underdogs, because they have the world already. They control everything around them.

This is Foul Play’s world-- their nation, and I’m just a fucked up, dysfunctional member stuck inside of it alongside Sally.

The problem is… now Reaver is living in this fantasy land where he means a damn standing across from me in a wrestling ring. I am not Stefan Raab; I am a wrestler, and that means that he has to try harder this week than he’s ever tried in his fucking life, because he’s not just facing a couple of people that know they can beat him. He’s facing two women that WANT to beat him. Holding the Suicidal Championship might not mean a lot to some people, but to me, it means Reaver is WORTH beating. He’s a representative of this burning empire! He is the soldier, and Jason Kash is the Duce of Fascism.

And by default, I’m the resistance.”

”You believe that? You believe yourself to be a rebel?”

Her lips parted with a small, almost bashful smile that seemed unnatural for her. I didn’t care that I’d spoken. I didn’t care that I’d been intrigued. She’d taken nearly everything… and she wasn’t going anywhere.

”A rebel?”

Aubrey shook her head at me.

”I’m not a rebel. I’d have to oppose violently to be a rebel.

I mean-- hurting Jason and Reeves next Sunday isn’t even OPPOSITION. It’s OBLIGATION. Jason ASKED me to do this. He knew, that for as great as he is, that he’s going to get hurt climbing into the ring with Sally and me. He knew that I'd come at him harder, and faster, and angrier, having to rely on her. I’m going to make it my business to give Kash the beating of his life during our tag team match on Sunday, and I’m not going to take the easy way out. I’m not going to get myself disqualified. I’m not going to drag him around outside of the ring and risk getting myself counted out. I’m going to do what all those motherfuckers expect me NOT to do, and that’s let Sally, the handpicked chosen-one of the APW brass, take MY spotlight in a match against the Suicidal Champion and the totalitarian himself.

They know each other like they know the back of their own hands. As a team, Foul Play is a formidable foe. They are a single entity, and if we let our guard down, they’ll fucking murder us out there. They may be good as individuals, but they are a TEAM, and they want to go to war. Sally and I, for as much as we wanna win, and as much faith as people put into us, are not a team. We’ve fought alongside other before, but never in an actual match. Now it’s mandatory. Now we have to depend on each other. We aren’t choosing to.

I wasn’t even gonna show. I was gonna say fuck it and take the lawsuit, because I'd rather lose a quarter of my yearly salary than be a SLAVE in the NATION of Jason Andrew Cashe.

...but here I am. For the betterment of these people. I swear, it’s like I’m a saint…”

Her gaze was downcast for a moment before her eyes raised to meet mine again, sparking with devilishly beautiful thoughtfulness.

”Wrestling in the Asylum is my crucifixion. I do it for the people.”

Her smile broadened.

”I’m not a rebel, Norman. I am Jesus Christ.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. There was even conviction behind her words. I think at this point, I had decided in my own head, that I’d heard enough.

”I think you should go.”

”Hmm?”

”I think you’ve had too much wine… and you should go.”

”What-- are you gonna kick me out? It’s like, midnight, and I walked here.”

”You walked through the darkness just fine to get here.”

”But everyone knows all the scary stuff happens after midnight.”

”Exactly. That’s why you need to go.”

She rolled her eyes, not amused by the comment, and offering a pout as I ascended to my feet, prepared to escort her out.

”Norm, they’re making me go to the Philippines next week. I need your support during these troubling times!”

”You need to--”

”Just drive me home, Norm. I don’t bite. Besides… I can bitch about the Philippines on the way home, right?”

An opportunity to remove the demon from my house. I’ll take it.

Eagerly, I slung her acoustic around my shoulder and journeyed toward the front.

”Yeah. You can do all the ‘bitching’ you want. Let’s go.”

Grabbing her purse, she followed, but approached me with a soft voice as I pulled open the front door.

”You believe in me though, right, Norm?”

I turned to glance at her over my shoulder. I don’t know what my facial expression might’ve said… but that delicate smile returned to her face. I don’t care. I wasn’t having it.

”Let’s go.”

And we left.

hit me with your best shot

april.28.fortyfive

Claretta Petacci sobbed. She had been instructed to practice silence… but she couldn’t stifle her tears. She wailed, but the men that surrounded her remained as stonefaced as the man, again, to her right, that she’d placed so much faith into.

They’d been led here like some sort of sick joke. A man, identifying himself as Walter claimed he’d been there to save them after they’d been ripped from their convoy… but they were led into a familiar village. Guilino. And now, the men that had surrounded her, and the man she trusted, formed a line before them, raising their weapons. Walter moved forward, placing a hand on Benito’s shoulder, glancing at the pair, and the captured officer behind them.

”Scendere…”

Claretta’s sobs grew louder, but doing as she was told, she dropped to her knees, a second after the others. Hurriedly, she turned, throwing her arms around Benito.

She cried. Her eyes stung with hot, salty tears. Every muscle in her body shook. And silently, Claretta began to pray--

BANG.

...fire away

september.13.thirteen9:31am

”And then they hung them upside down by meat hooks in front of a gas station. And they let allllll the citizens in the nation come, and view them, and throw stones at them. And they did. They came. They came to remind their dead leader how he’d ruined their lives. If only they had known that they’d ruined his too. If only they had that satisfaction.”

fin.