Dear Ko,
I did it.
Thanks for the cake, by the way. It was delicious and I’m convinced it was key in my victory.
Now I have to figure out what it means to be World Champ.
It’s status, and status is power, so what do I try and do with it?
Paraphrasing Robert Caro, power doesn’t always corrupt, but it does always reveal. When someone’s in a position of power you get to see them do what they’ve always wanted to do.
I’m thinking a lot about Ken.
I know that UC6 won’t be our only match. The number of parallels we share is pretty uncanny, and…I don’t know if I wanna say, ‘kismet,’ but it feels like there’s an entanglement that isn’t done with either of us yet.
I think about what Ken did with the power he gathered. As easy as it would be to just condemn everything he did with a wave of a hand, it’s more complicated than that. Shocker, I know. Ken wanted to use his power to outshine the legacies of those who came before him. He wasn’t really interested in being a leader of others as much as he was an object of worship. But now I’m champ when Carnage needs leaders more than ever.
I don’t know if you saw, but Ade got hurt and can’t wrestle anymore. She’s staying in Baltimore, which I’m honestly relieved about. Is that selfish of me? She has so much insight and experience, it’s a tragedy to watch her go from a professional standpoint and from a personal one? If I’m still picking up the pieces of me that broke when I found out, I can’t imagine what Adrienne is going through. She’s been incredibly gracious and resilient publicly, and while I don’t want to pry, I want to make sure she feels supported personally. She has Sylvie, and for that I’m grateful. Other folks have just disappeared – here one day and gone the next without a word or backward glance. It’s disappointing in some cases; I guess the relationships I thought we had weren’t as important to them. But maybe that’s on me, seeing them as something they weren’t.
All I know is I’m not the only one who’s feeling a bit shell shocked about the new landscape. I’m impressed, though, at how it’s galvanized the people still here. Few people exemplify that as well as the guy I’m facing next.
Jon’s been clear about his intentions right from the get-go. He finally met his goal. I don’t think it’s how he expected it to come about, but looking back at things, it feels like it’s the most appropriate way it could have happened. Jon’s been looking for connection – real connection – seemingly for many years. When he finally found it here, it was only after he was real about himself. But now that Jon’s embraced who he is, what he’s always seen inside himself has come to the surface for everyone else to see, too.
It’s a rare and powerful thing to be what you want to be.
Although lately Jon has gone on about how he wants to be a symbol, and it makes me wonder if he’s quite there yet. Somehow that note feels off-key, to me, and I’m working out why.
Anyway, I’m sure you’re busy doing your thing. I don’t know if or when you can get away sometime, but I’d like to see you again if you can manage it.
I hope things are coming along well! Can’t wait to see what you do when you’re some Super King Big Nuts zaibatsu owner.
Love,
Silvio
“Goddamnit, Mitch, why did you have to stick your dick in the punch bowl?”
Sitting in his living room, cups of tea forgotten on his coffee table, Silvio sighed, running a hand down his face as he rewatched the aftermath of LRK and Zephyr’s match. He thought maybe what Heart was trying to do was mirror King’s own actions – laying claim to the UV belt, but leaving it with its rightful champion. He hadn’t realized until later that the Broken had actually stolen the thing.
He was seated beside the Lab Rat King, the now beltless UV champ, in his living room. The relentless grey of the Baltimore winter pressed against the windows, seeming an echo of his mood.
“You always have such a colourful choice of words.”
Sighing, Kane sank back against the sofa cushions he used to sleep on, both hands over his face. He pushed them back through his hair, his shoulders cracking audibly with the motion. Frustration brewed under his skin like a mint in a sealed cola bottle.
“I appreciate that right now, honestly.”
“Hey, any time,” Silvio replied, still staring at the laptop screen in front of them. “I didn’t know about this.” He shook his head, brow knit. “Mitch…doesn’t really talk with me a lot.”
Honestly, Pen was more likely to reach out to Silvio these days.
“I really don’t know what to make of it besides…y’know, the obvious.”
“That he’s an untrustworthy prick, you mean?”
Kane’s tone was flat, weighed down by exhaustion. He’d said his piece already, and Silvio was aware of that, so he didn’t feel the need to cut into much more detail.
“It’s just that I’m sensing a pattern with the guy… I’m not as stupid as half the roster thinks I am. I notice this shit.”
Silvio winced a little at the comment. It seemed harsh, but at the same time, Mitch had stolen LRK’s belt. The World Champ had been under the impression that LRK and Mitch were brothers in everything but blood. And, Hell, even that was negotiable. “Pattern?” he queried, raising a brow.
Kane shifted his weight forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. The couch creaked subtly beneath the movement. “Yeah. He doesn’t reach out. He doesn’t check in, or try to stay connected… he waits for others to open the door, first. The only time he’ll speak first is when he needs something from you.”
“Hey, now that’s…”
Silvio blinked, thinking back on the interactions he’d had with Mitch. The first time he’d run into the Broken, he’d been on the receiving end of a vicious spear that knocked the breath out of him.
“Well…I mean, he trusted me enough to make me his kid sister’s emergency contact.”
“Uhhuh, you mentioned. Did he run that by you before he penned in your phone number? Make sure it was ok?”
“No,” Silvio said, raising a hand defensively. “But I couldn’t just leave an eleven-year-old alone and afraid for the only family they have.”
“Of course not, that’d be awful.” Kane scoffed, rubbing his jaw. “And I’m sure he knew that would be your line of thinking when he made that decision for you, because that’s the kind of person you are. He saddled you with that responsibility knowing you’d ask for nothing in return.”
“That’s a really ugly way to look at it,” Silvio said slowly. “Pen’s a good kid. She needs people to look out for her.”
But he couldn’t deny that Mitch hadn’t consulted him about it.
“Mitch is like me. He’s a survivor. When you strip it down to the bare bones, you did whatever you had to do to keep going and keep what was precious safe. I guess he sees me as someone who can help him with that.”
Kane shrugged, looking to him. “I know about that. Being a survivor… so what has Mitch done to help you survive? When you were at your lowest–when you were struggling the most–did he reach out a hand to you to help you up?”
“I…things have been going pretty well for me,” he protested. “I haven’t really had…y’know, a hard time…”
“Not even when Axton Gunn threw your head down on the mat? Or when Kohaku left?”
Silvio’s eyes flicked away, but he couldn’t say anything to that.
Kane sighed; he could see that his point had gotten through, but it didn’t feel good.
“Listen… I’m worried about you, Silvio, and I just want you to keep something in mind. You’re right, we’re survivors. That means we’re working with a limited pool of resources and energy. Just be careful about how much you give away without asking for anything back… or you’re gonna end up running on empty.”
Silvio exhaled, leaning back against the sofa and closing his eyes.
Maybe Kane was right. Maybe there was only so much of himself to give away.
But that wasn’t the only thing he knew how to do.
His thoughts strayed to the metal box in his bedroom. The one filled with locks and his pick set.
“Well,” he said, “what would you say to me doing a little taking instead?”
Jon’s face swam briefly behind his eyes.
Willis had tried so hard to turn over a new leaf – evolve past his old behavior. He thought of the pact Axton’s partner had made after UC6.
“For redemption. For acceptance. And for the belief that it does get better. For hope.”
Silvio, on the other hand, found himself lingering in doorways whose thresholds he hadn’t crossed for years.
“… Taking?” Kane’s tone was cautious, but curious.
Biting his lower lip, Silvio nodded. “Remember when I told you I could neither confirm nor deny I had first hand experience that allowed me to help make my place harder to break into?”
“… Uh-huh. And I informed you I wasn’t a narc.”
“Well,” the tarot reader said with a little smile. “Consider this your confirmation.”
“Hey, Legion! Welcome to my day job.”
Seated beside his tattoo table, Silvio gestures to his client – a familiar-looking blonde musician currently sporting wrap-around, gold-rimmed sunglasses.
“I already did a reading for Jon, so I thought it might be fun to do something a little different. Ax here is going to lend a hand for this promo as my canvas.”
Axton offers the Legion a lazy salute. “Heyo, party people. It’s ya boi.”
“There’s no one right way to tattoo; no one right style. There’s just preferences. American Traditional, Geometric, Portraiture, Biomechanical, Watercolor, Trash Polka – the list goes on. The trick is finding the right style and subject matter for your client. Something that fits the body part you’re tattooing and also meets your canvas’ stylistic needs. Sometimes, you run out of skin space, your old tattoo would be difficult to touch up, or you just want something new, but there’s already something in that spot. Depending on the old piece, you could do a cover-up, or even go and get it lasered off. But laser removal takes a long time and it can be expensive. And maybe you’re not satisfied with your cover up options.”
Silvio grins and pulls on a pair of nitrile gloves.
“That’s when it’s time for a Blast Over.”
He takes Axton’s arm and angles it so the camera can see the faded whorls of silver, gold, green and blue in the shape of storm clouds.
“This is some of my older work. In fact, this is a cover up, so this skin is going to be worked on three times. Sorry, babe, this one’s gonna sting.”
“It’s all good,” Axton sighs, giving Silvio a relaxed grin. “Nothing can sting as bad as falling off a 12-foot ladder onto another ladder, back-first, after getting my ass beat by Cortes.”
“Fair point!” Silvio concedes. “When you make a Blast Over tattoo, I find it’s best to use blackwork informed by the image beneath it. In my opinion, these look best when they’re done over faded, colorful tattoos. I’m going to show you what I mean for Axton’s piece.” Silvio turns back to Axton, readying his stencil, inks and tattoo machine.
The camera follows Silvio’s work as he begins to lay down thick, black outlines around the faded clouds, the view too close to discern the exact design being created.
“Things have changed for us since we were last in the ring together, Jon,” the artist says as he continues his work. “Back then, I was teamed up with LRK, and you were working with Mitch Heart, a man who has since become a close friend.”
Silvio sighs, pausing for a moment.
“Even if he’s making decisions I’m not thrilled with right now.”
Returning to his work, Silvio goes on.
“You’d had your first loss at the hands of King in the previous triple threat match, and Mitch had a bone to pick with Carnage’s Lab Rat over what he’d perceived as disrespect.”
Shrugging, he raises an eyebrow.
“Although I’m sure you also didn’t consider it the height of courtesy when King used you as a projectile. You and Mitch didn’t work as a team. At Carnage, that seemed to be a real problem for you – finding team members you could rely on or harmonize with. You didn’t see real success in tag matches until you teamed up with our resident golden boy.”
Silvio ruffles Axton’s hair briefly, causing him to stick out his tongue.
“I’m not about to sit here and say wins and losses aren’t important – they are. But what’s more important is what you put in and take out of a fight.
“You and Ax won the tag titles, but the very next match, you found yourself pinned by the woman your team took half of those championships from. I’m also sure the Legion won’t forget it was Axton who actually took the belts down at UC6. You’re going into this fight with something to prove, and hey – wouldn’t a win against the World Champ do just that?
“Last time, let’s be honest, you didn’t do your homework; didn’t take me seriously. But, shoot, folks have been making that error since I came to Carnage and we both know what happened to every. Single. One of them.”
Gesturing to some of the artwork hanging on his parlor walls, Silvio continues.
“So, you wanna be a symbol? As it happens, symbology is my bread and butter. Take it from an expert – your aspirations toward the symbolic are doomed. I don’t think it’s possible; not anymore. Not with everything we know.”
Returning to his work, Silvio reloads his machine.
“Like I was saying – there are lots of different tattoo styles with lots of different variations, but there are some design rules that are fairly universal. When you’re creating an image, one of the key elements to pay attention to is readability. How easily can I see what your tattoo depicts? How close do I have to be? Could I tell what it is just by looking at a silhouette?
“That’s the simultaneous power and weakness of symbols. They take the details and strip them away until all that’s left are the essential features. They make generalities precise.
“But they lose all the nuance; the subtlety. To be a symbol is to let that become all that you are – to become less than you are. I think we both know people don’t do well when they have to sacrifice pieces of their identity. You want us to see you as you are, so I don’t think you can be a symbol. I think you’re a Blast Over.”
He gestures to the tattoo he’s creating for Axton, still too close to discern precisely what it is, but close enough to see the patterns of black lines he’s creating over the previous artwork. The juxtaposition of the strong lines over the dreamy watercolor is striking.
“You don’t want to hide your background. You want people to know it; to know you. Just like when you get a Blast Over tattoo, you purposefully let the old work show through. You aren’t erasing your past or covering it up – you’re adding another layer. You don’t want to forget – just transform.
“I get it now – why it almost feels like a confessional every time you cut a promo. Right out the gate, you tore yourself open and poured your soul out to the world. You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve, Jon – you serve it up on a silver platter.
“Because isn’t it terrifying being alone? And doesn’t that loneliness feel even more pronounced when you can’t be open with the people closest to you? All the while, hoping, praying for someone to just get it – to see you. To actually see you. To look past the surface, and comprehend the subtext.”
He raises a brow.
“Maybe that’s why you’re finding more success in team competition now. Someone finally clicks with you, and now there’s the confidence booster of having that walking, talking external validation standing in your corner, hand extended for a tag.”
Shrugging, he looks thoughtful.
“People talked about how you were subbing a championship in for your previous addictions and I think they were right, but not quite in the way that’s been described.
“Part of the reason being high feels so great is because it reorients your priorities. Things you worry about when you’re sober take on a different quality when you’re affected.”
He begins to tick off points on the fingers of his free hand.
“If you don’t have a person for acceptance and validation, a belt works pretty well in their place. If you can’t hold up a belt to say, ‘This proves I’m worthwhile,’ then a chemical can promise you that you are. Or make you stop needing for other people to think so.
“You don’t seek these things to feel exhilaration or euphoria. You’re seeking them to feel loved and accepted by others. Or to shed that desire. Everyone needs love and acceptance. But when you either don’t value or can’t generate the internal variety, you’re going to spend your life chasing diminishing returns provided by the external. Even this symbolic aspiration you have serves that purpose and hedges your bets. If you lose everything else – the title, the partner, the drugs – then an idea of you could still be loved. A symbol is simple to recognize and boils down a lot of complex ideas and beliefs; a form of compressed information that’s easy to adopt and make your own.
“But that’s not you. Not now. That’s the old you, the part of you that’s still afraid of letting his whole self be known. The part that’s willing to amputate pieces of himself if that means something of him will be loved. And if that’s what I’m getting in this fight, then this isn’t going to go well for you. If you’re already doing violence to your very identity, coming at me as a fraction of yourself, then how hard is this really going to be?”
He looks up at the camera, mirth gone from his expression.
“I didn’t get to be World Champ by accident, Willis. You know that. I have put down every single person I’ve been matched against. Including you. The only exception is the woman who just beat you, and guess what? I avenged that loss immediately. The question this fight asks is – can Jonathan Willis still succeed as a singles competitor? Is the support you’re provided something you can internalize and cultivate into your own motivation, or are you still in a place where you need to see it to believe it?
“I appreciate everything my friends and fans have done for me here. I trust them enough to know their support is not going to disappear just because I’m not constantly observing the evidence. I am motivated to live up not only to the faith they have in me, but the faith I have in myself.”
Silvio gets to his feet, setting aside his tattoo machine.
“Sometimes that means doling out some tough love. Jon, we did what we set out to do – we’re both champions now; leaders at a time when the company needs them most. I am not satisfied with the roster and the fans looking to me for leadership, though. I need to look to them if I want to be effective. They do not need me to be a symbol. A symbol can’t listen, can’t offer advice, comfort, or another set of fists in a fight. If they need symbols, I will make them. I have no intention of being one and I think you should do the same.”
The camera finally focuses on the tattoo Silvio has been creating on Axton’s arm. It’s a stylized version of one of the Carnage World Tag Team Championships, swirling storm clouds caught within its clean, black borders.
“After all, why settle for being a symbol when you’re already a whole damn art form?”
He winks, and blows a kiss to the camera.
“See you at Chaos, Legion.”
oracularmysteries 