"Set Fire to the Chamber of Life" (Warning: Flashing Image)

[Hearst]

It was the sudden fall in the dream; the quake of the shoulder that would wake us into a cold sweat. The static, the tingle in the spine, and the white room … that terrible, maddening white room where imperfections were allowed no quarter, and where the sky and earth shared the same face were mortifying, and yet amorous. In this place we were alone with silence crashing in around us, leaving our ears to beg for the vacuum to come to an end. When the voice that cracked the emptiness came, both whispered and thunderous like the words of God, it became clear what malicious spirit had brought us to this place of pain and nothingness.


Devin Hearst had returned to Japan.


Casually strolling into our view like this place beyond humanity was his home, tattooed hand in the pocket of his black suit pants, Hearst ran his other hand through his thick, yet well-kempt beard. He did not turn to face the camera … and yet his stare still dug in through the back of our skulls.


“Professional wrestling is a world where royalty outnumbers the common blood; eight-thousand kings and queens, all in their courts of one, shouting orders at empty chairs and out windows at anyone with a Wi-Fi signal and nothing to do. They’re as mundane as they are braggadocious and nothing worth getting out of bed for … but Ace King …”


The skin across our chest tightened along with the valves of our heart as the “Seven-Headed Beast” now turned his head and stabbed his cold, crocodilian eyes into ours.


“Ace King is worth a flight. The EWC Television champion, and while that's well and good … you don’t know him like I do. The real weight that name carries. In my old turf, the name ‘Ace King’ was spoken with love and fear. He was the warrior, and at the same time he was the sword. Simply put, where I’m from, Ace King was the best. So when he used my name … and came to Japan, I had to see what this folk tale looked like up close.”


Hearst paced across our view, the camera following into the never-ending white of this dimensionless room. Soon, Hearst was joined by a second blemish on the perfection: a black table. Upon this table was gold. A king’s ransom, so to speak, stacked in jewelry and coins, statues in both renaissance and early Greek style, and nestled into the center of it all like an egg in a nest was a single playing card: the ace of spades. Hearst dug into his pocket as he spoke.


“To find castration incarnate. This thunderstorm turned man is no more than a posturing boyfriend with some bad puns and super hero jargon. It’s not that I expected better, Ace. I don’t expect much from anything in this landfill you’re all squirming through, but in your case I know there’s a shred of truth to the myth.”


Hearst pulled from his pocket a pack of cigarettes and silver lighter. Placing the cigarette in his mouth, he ignited the lighter and then the end of his cigarette. Hearst took a long, ash-filled breath before letting the smoke slowly go. He kept the lighter burning, losing his stare into the burning center of the flame.


“You’re just another notch on the daisy chain; another tally. A lion with no teeth, nor claws, so you’ll forgive me if I’m hazy on the idea, but what makes you think that you have any business speaking my name, boy? See, you have this illusion that this game runs on prison yard rules, and that you should hit the biggest guy in the yard to prove your moxy, but they never do tell you that when you throw that punch, you fucking die!”


With a fanatic glint in his eyes, Hearst tossed the lighter behind him onto the table, and within seconds the treasure trove ignited! The unknown accelerant carried the fire through the room, up the walls now visible, and to the ceiling. In a matter of seconds, it seemed, this perfect place was brought low ... and Devin did not move; just glared ahead into the depths of the viewing public.


“So you’ll do the same that everyone else will; throw around your resume, and your shiny gold belt, and tell me how good you are and how you’ll never give up, and how you have all of these people counting on you … and I’m going to knock your ass out, because despite all of that I’m just plain better than you. I’ve built my name on the backs of champions, world champions, of kings, and on a lot of your friends and they all thought and said the same bullshit. Paint by fuckin’ numbers, man. Oh, it’ll be a fight, Ace. It just won’t be a long one. Never is.”


Devin pushed past the camera and casually paced from the ever-growing torrent of fire. Following suit, the camera watched on as Hearst seemed to place a hand onto nothing, and then open a door we could not see before. As it swung open and the smoke began to funnel out, we could make out the lights and grime of the Roppongi district. Hearst stepped out, taking another drag from his cigarette and flicking some of the ash to the ground.


“You can call yourself a king, but I … am the dragon, gilded and bloody. NJFC, this pit, is MY home, and when you step into that ring and look across at me, it’ll finally hit you that the only thing that’s here for you … is fire…”


With one last glance cast over his shoulder, Hearst took off into the night where only vices and vile things lived. While he did, this perfect place still burned, and if Hearst had his way, all of Japan would soon follow.

End.