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Boy In A Mask
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Topic Started: Dec 2 2011, 08:35 AM (150 Views)
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Deleted User
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Dec 2 2011, 08:35 AM
Post #1
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Deleted User
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”What I'm telling you is that the company is actively trying to make things difficult for you.”
Xander didn't bother to respond to the woman's claims as the limo turned onto the final stretch of road toward his father's home. He knew she was right. Oh, sure, out of the two women who worked as his assistants Amanda was the more alarmist but that didn't mean he couldn't trust her opinion. She had his best interests at heart. The best interests of his career and his company. Why wouldn't she? What was good for him was good for everyone.
”There's no proof that the company is trying to make things difficult for us, Amanda.” Xander turned around in his seat just in time to see Alyssa Paige shoot her twin sister a glare. He smiled a little and rested his hand on his head, his elbow on the window to watch their argument. It was a constant. Both of them were absolute extremes. On one side, you had the proactive and constantly aggressive Amanda. Very much a shoot first, ask questions later sort of girl. Alyssa was a thinker. A planner. She liked to take time to look at all the angles before she did anything. Together, they ended up forming a perfect balance. They were the most useful tools in his little empire.
”Relax.” Xander rumbled from deep in his gut ”I don't like it either. Believe me. They are making things difficult. Booking me in a dark match? I'm an established wrestler. I've been a champion. Now, they have me in a ten man tag? Where the odds are so stacked against me? Interesting.”
Amanda smirked. Kincaid shook his head ”Hanlon's razor. Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.” He chuckled softly ”It's more likely that they simply don't know what they're dealing with. That...that they haven't watched enough wrestling. That they haven't seen my work elsewhere. They're fools, but they aren't smart enough to try and sabotage me on purpose.”
He looked back out the window to the trees. It was late autumn now. Late autumn in upstate New York was beautiful. The leaves were turning. Tourists would migrate out of the cities to check out the more rural areas. He hated leaving the city. He certainly hated the city to head back to the old Kincaid family home. Where everyone else saw the beautiful surroundings, all he had was the memories. The memories of the old days. None of them were good.
The twins fell silent. They knew that look. The girls had been working for him for years, ever since he'd found them on the streets of Toronto. He'd groomed them. He'd made them into something better. He'd even funded their schooling, and both had excelled. Amanda had a legal degree, Alyssa's was in finance. He'd told them that only one could stay with him after graduation. Both girls were cutthroat enough to immediately start calling each other down to the lowest to try and get the job. They were animals. Predators. Exactly his kind of people. They'd been more useful than he could of imagined. When he'd gone too far in beating an opponent in a backstage attack? It'd been Amanda who had gotten him off the charges even though he'd nearly killed the man to prove his point. When he needed money to buy a title shot during his time in New Blood Wrestling, it'd been Alyssa who'd managed some stock manipulation he hadn't quite understood to get a hold of the money. They were beautiful women. He didn't care. That barely factored into why he had them around. They were weapons. Useful ones.
The car took a left and he saw the house come into view. It was a large home. Two floors, dozens and dozens of rooms. An old home built in the 1800's in that classic New England style. The place was a beautiful home...from the outside anyway. They came heading up to the front steps and the limo stopped. The driver stepped out and headed to the back door, opening it up to let the two of them out. The girls stepped out first. A moment later, and Kincaid followed. He stood to his full height beside the driver. The man swallowed nervously. Kincaid smiled. He loved his size. The way the muscles made him look like a monster in a suit. It gave him the advantage before anything else.
They headed up the stairs to the front door. The girls flanked him. The door was opened before he could even get to it. Morgan met him at the door. The old man had been working for the family since he was a child. A straight up classically trained butler was hard to find, but his father had spared no expense. “Master Alexander.” Morgan said, his perfect poker face on as always “Your father is in his office. I believe he's on a conference call with a client. He's instructed me to tell you-”
“To wait in the library.” Xander interrupted him with a growl. The butler stiffened up. He hated Xander. He had since he was a child. Oh, Kincaid knew it was his own fault. He'd treated him like crap. Every frustration that he'd had in his younger years had been taken out on the Brit. Why shouldn't he? What kind of man would willingly give up his own dreams to serve people? Who would go to school to learn to serve other people? The man's situation was his own fault, and Kincaid couldn't respect him. He waived his hand dismissively to the man “I'm not waiting to see him. I didn't travel this whole way for books.”
He stepped past the butler, ignoring the disgusted breath the man sucked in and headed across the lobby to the stairs on the other side. They walked up the steps. He hesitated at the top. He knew what he was going to see. The one thing related to his sons wrestling career that Dorian Kincaid allowed in his home. He stepped over the top of the stairs, and there it was. A glass box. A glass box with a lock that he'd never been able to crack open, no matter how many times he'd tried. Inside there was a statue of a man's head. He remembered being measured for the statue. It'd been measured to his exact sizing, without the old man ever letting him know what it was for. Had he known he never would of agreed. It was what sat on that head that affected him the most. The mask. The mask was black. Black as midnight. There was white designs on it, a massive jagged white patch on one side and a smaller one over the eyes on the left. His father's design. A mocking Rorschach pattern to illustrate the life his son was giving up.
”So that's the mask.” Amanda said, her voice just above a whisper ”Pretty scary looking. It'd probably be a great advantage in the ring. Plus, marketable. I could do a lot with the-”
”No.”
That was all it took. They wouldn't push. He touched his hands to the glass. He stood there for a moment, whispering something softly to himself that his associates couldn't understand before he turned from the case and headed up the final set of stairs toward his father's office. The double doors were open wide. The room was a large circle, with Dorian's desk sitting against the back of it. He wasn't on the phone. Xander wondered if he'd even been on a call when he stepped in, or it was just an instruction given to screw with him.
Dorian Kincaid was an old man. He didn't have quite the size of his son, but he was broad shouldered and tall. His hair was tied in a ponytail behind his head. It was black, grey flecked from his age. He had a very well maintained beard. Even with no one else in his home he was well dressed. A pair of pinstriped slacks and a white shirt. Xander couldn't remember a time he'd ever seen him dress casually. It was a habit he adopted when he came of age. Act like you own the world, and sooner or later someone would give you the opportunity to own it.
He looked up from the book on his desk and smiled at his son. The smile made him furious. That smile like he knew everything that everyone would do. That smile like everything, no matter how small, was going according to his plan. He spoke in a friendly, affable tone ”Son. Glad to see you made the trip up to see me. Took you're time getting up here, didn't you? What happened? The terror mask distract you again?”
He did his best to ignore him and shook his head ”I'd heard you were on a call. Something wrong? That actor out of San Juan get into it with his wife again?”
His father stood up from behind the table and walked around it to stroll casually over to his son ”Oh, Diego has his issues for sure...But that's work. I don't suspect you came to see me about work, did you? At least not mine.”
Xander smirked and nodded, waving one of his hands at the counter across the room where his father's brandy sat ”Amanda, fetch me a drink would you?” He then turned and gave a brief nod to her sister. Both girls returned the nod and both of them went walking across the room to fetch his alcohol. It was a status symbol more than anything, him proving to his father that the twins would be completely subordinate to him.
Dorian didn't even give them a look and the fury rose in the younger man's heart again ”I wanted you to know I started in New Era. I won my debut. Against a dangerous man. Himitsu. Wasn't much of a challenge, in truth.”
”Ah, yes, yes.” Dorian replied with a chuckle ”Hardly impressive. It was his first match wasn't it? You'd been wrestling for years. I'd hate to think all that training we put you through was a waste. You should be beating people like that.”
It was so easy for him to dismiss Xander's accomplishments. He gritted his teeth and continued ”Maybe. In any case, I'm in a team match coming up. It's the chance to really display my ability. I could beat five other people. I do that, and I'm sure they'd have to be thinking about me in title matches already.”
Dorian didn't answer at first as the girls carried his son's drink back to him. Xander took the glass and took a drink. His father hadn't offered it, and he knew that it bothered him. Whatever. Still, his voice sounded smooth as silk when he spoke again ”Maybe. Maybe. Provided you make a good impression yourself, of course. If you only manage to eliminate one other person before you lose the match than you'll end up looking worse off...since you've talked such a big game and all.”
Xander opened his mouth to speak again and Dorian cut him off ”The entire thing is just unsettling to me anyway. Barbaric. Oh, I've heard you wrestlers talk about how it's a sport. About how technical the entire thing is...but I see it for what it really is. I see the risks you take. What do you think ladies?”
The question came so completely out of nowhere that both of them were taken aback for a minute. They looked to their employer for guidance and Xander's expression hardened. They fell silent and Amanda crossed her arms, closing up her posture and signalling that she wouldn't be providing any answers. Dorian smirked and turned back to his son ”Oh, and I suppose part of it is the show. The pageantry. That appeals to you as well. The mask outside? The terror mask? When Alexander said he wanted to be a professional wrestler I must admit that I was...reluctant to allow it to happen. Oh, certainly he had the body for it. He's always been a big man. Always been in the peak of physical condition. But his mind! Oh, his mind. Alexander was an intelligent youth. I made sure of that.”
”They don't need to hear this.”
”Yes, they do.” Dorian snarled as he whipped around to look at his son. He waived his hand in the air, a theatrical flourish to go along with his tale ”I didn't want him to be a wrestler. With his mind, he could of gone to university and turned his gift in the same direction I did. Had I been a psychiatrist as I was, there's no telling the sort of breakthroughs he could of made. He gave that up to wrestle. He gave up the life he could of had. He gave up his family. His-”
”Shut up.”
His voice quivered. Xander Kincaid was six and a half feet tall. He was nearly three hundred pounds of destructive power, but now he felt like a bug about to be stepped on. Dorian looked satisfied with the reaction but shook his head ”No, no. You need to hear this. So do they. That's why we made the mask. We made the mask because he gave up who he was. Originally, the design was a take on the masks common in mexican Lucha Libre. I've always seen the mexican wrestling scene as wrestling at it's purest...at it's most ridiculous. I find the notion of one trying to become some sort of...some sort of...caricature to be disturbing. Disturbing on a base, psychological level. My plan was to make him confront the profoundly disturbing notion that he was trying to become something he wasn't. The mask was the easiest way to do that.”
He could never tell how true to the point his father was being. Oh sure, Dorian never did anything without some kind of reasoning but there were times when Xander was sure his father was just trying to break him. It'd been ten years ago since the first days of training. Ten years since he'd forced his son to wear the mask while he learned to fight. Ten years ago, Kincaid had worn the mask when his father had pushed him through some of the most brutal physical training one could imagine. The mask was stained with his blood and his tears. Now, he didn't need it. He was his own man and just hearing about it disgusted him.
”Oh, maybe the mask had a point at one time.” Kincaid answered with a confident chuckle ”Let's be honest, I've moved on. I've been a success everywhere and whether you like it or not I'm going to be a success in New Era as well. I'm going to be a champion. Maybe I'll hold my victory party here, in your home. I'm sure you wouldn't mind? Sharing in your son's achievements? We could have half the town here!”
Dorian headed back to his desk and took his seat again ”Oh, I'd love to. No one would be more happy about that than I would but....that's the sort of thing that requires planning. A great deal of planning. It would require me to believe ahead of time that you're going to become a world champion and well....” Another wave of his hand ”History isn't on your side, my boy.”
Xander gritted his teeth and turned away to head for the door ”Oh, I will win that title. I will. You should have more faith in me. Me winning is an inevitability. It's a constant. It's bound to happen. I'm going to-”
”You're not in front of a camera boy.” Dorian sneered, picking up he newspaper that lay on his desk and flipping it open. He had no interest in reading it. He just wanted to demonstrate physically that their conversation was over. He continued in a tone that sounded friendly, but was unmistakably mocking ”Standing in my office cutting wrestling promos. Ridiculous. Remember, Alexander. I know the real you. I know the scared little boy underneath what you present to the cameras. No matter how big you get, no matter how many fancy suits, how many attractive twins and...how many world titles you put around your waist that is never going to change. You'll always be the boy in the mask.”
Xander didn't say anything to him. There was nothing to say. He turned and headed out of the office. The girls followed him. Alyssa rested a hand on his shoulder to calm him down and he jerked his body to the side to kick her off him. He shoved past Morgan and ignored everyone as he headed out the doors back to the limo. The car sped away from the home, and back to New York City as fast as it could.
~*~*~*~*~
”I am excited."
The camera opens on a shot of Xander Kincaid standing on his balcony and looking over the city. It's near midnight in New York and the city is lit up below. The dozens of pinpricks of yellow light our shot like little yellow suns, a stirring contrast to the dark clothing that our subject wears. He doesn't face the camera. He stares down on the city below coldly before he begins to speak again.
”Let us be honest: The first win meant nothing. Nothing. Why would it? No one saw it. It was against a man who it was impossible for me to take seriously. This is different though. This one matters. Oh, don't get me wrong. I see it for what it is. I see this as New Era Management stacking the deck against me as hard as they can...but I'll allow it. I will allow it to happen. Because I look at the lineup for that match and I see an absolutely fantastic array of talent. What can be said about them? Kidd Love? One of the most consistent clutch performers in the company. Randy Altzer? Dangerous. Unpredictable. And enough of a general to lead this team to victory. Christian York and Romeo are both hungry for victories in their young careers. We've got something here. We've got a dangerous team of wrestlers on our side. In truth, I think I worry for our opponents.”
Now he turns to face the camera. He cocks his head to the side a bit, as though he's surprised to see it. Then he leans in and begins to speak.
”Hisoka. The Clown. The Jester. Oh, I've been warned about you. They say you're like nothing else in the world. That you've got magic on your side. That you've got carnival tricks like nothing we've ever seen. I won't lie to you and tell you that doesn't worry me. I've never wrestled someone like you. Someone who seems to smile with every hit. Someone who never looks even a little bit worried. I've been watching tapes. I've been preparing for our match. Do you know what worries me most about you? Before the bell rings. When you're leaning there against the buckles with your eyes closed, not a care in the world. I've known men who feed on violence. I've never met someone who isn't worried about it. That makes you dangerous.”
He frowns and his expression hardens as he continues.
”Erickson's a problem too. He knows tag teams. He knows competition. He knows what it's like to go in there and count on the people in the corner. Being a tag team specialist, and a former champion, can give you advantages in a match like this. You don't have to pace yourself as much. You can go all out on the offense because you're so aware of your ring positioning. You know all you have to do is reach out there and get the tag. That's worrying. That's worrying, because he's going to bring a cohesion to that team that my team simply doesn't have.”
He walks back into his home and the camera follows behind him. He speaks in a hushed, concerned tone. It's something we don't hear often from the normally confident Kincaid.
”That's what this match is all about isn't it? That's what I need to think about. The things my team doesn't have? I don't have the confidence that Romeo Stylez does. That swagger? That whole thing? That's not me. I'm a straight up wrestler. I don't have the experience in New Era rings that Priest has. All of my big matches have been elsewhere. The book on my career wasn't written here. I must admit, I don't have the athleticism of a Raymond Hughes. I'm more smash mouth. More straight ahead than he is. My team lacks that. We just don't have what they do....what we do have...”
The camera pans around him and he bows his head. The shadows obscure his eyes, but nothing can hide the slow and very satisfied smile that spreads across his features. His voice deepens. Each word drips with confidence and self satisfaction. This is the Kincaid that wrestling fans all over the world have grown used to.
”..Is Me.”
”See, that's what it's going to take for us to win. I'm not one of those guys who tells you that his opponents suck. They don't. The guys I'm going into this match with are fucking warriors and I love that about them. What they aren't are wrestlers. At least, that's not how most of them started. They all had other things going on. I'm not some MMA nut who became a wrestler. I'm not a carnival worker playing at being a wrestler. No, everything I am is because I became a wrestler. There's so few of us left. Wrestling doesn't get the respect it used to. So now everyone's moving to other sports...me? I'm the Last Son of this dying industry. I just want to wrestle. That's what makes me dangerous: Focus. I love this challenge. I love that I've got such a difficult team to overcome. It's those skills of yours that's going to make it so much more meaningful when I beat you. It's going to shut up all those critics, all those people who say I can't be champion, all the people who doubt-”
He realizes he's rambling and goes quiet. Then, he shakes his head and leaves us with some final words.
”Bring your A game. All of you, bring everything you have to the challenger series. Let's give them something they never forget. I'm ready.”
Our last shot is of him before we fade...to...black...
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