The Monster
Ilya Kunitz, Facility Administrator for the female prisoners of Siberian Wrestling, sat behind his large expensive desk tapping his fingers against the surface. Soft light poured in from the windows directly behind him, from the fluorescent bulbs above his head. The guard at the door shifted ever so slightly in his rigid stance and then quickly went back to being immobile. The guard was at his beck and call, much like most of the staff beneath him. The female ward of Siberian Wrestling’s prison was completely his to control and according to The Warden himself he did an exceptional job doing so.There was only one thorn in his basket full of roses, and that thorn was none other than the Champion Of Siberia herself, Cecile Lecrux. He could not pin point exactly what infuriated him about her directly. Perhaps it was a simple matter of her being a strong female, and him, being used to weak, useless women. Like the kind he grew up with. He always took care of his female siblings, always made sure his mother was well treated. That was his duty as the only man of the house.
Cecile Lecrux, he said silently to himself, and shook his head as his phone rung.
“Hello? Yes, sir. Cecile?” he made a face as he said her voice, “I saw. She did exceptionally well. I’m proud of her too. Yes? Another match at The Experts? Sir…are you sure?…I’ll let her know…Goodbye sir.”
He slammed the phone down and deliberately cracked each knuckle on each of his hands one by one. Then he motioned the guard over. The tall man hovered over his desk as he approached, his arms still behind his back. “I want you to place Cecile Lecrux in the isolation chamber.”
“Sir?” the guard hesitated at the command.
“I said, I want you to place Cecile Lecrux in the isolation chamber. She’s been a bad little bitch this year, and I am going to give her a nice little present. Now, don’t make me repeat myself.”
The guard gave Ilya a salute before leaving the room. Ilya sat back in his chair and pulled out the second drawer on his desk. In there, lay a gun he’d used to kill a woman almost a year ago to this day.
*****
Cecile saw herself running through the forest. It was the same blackness she had dreamed of before, where she was surrounding and engulfed by her worst nightmares. She saw the ghost out the corner of her eye, following her as she made her way for the cliff. The ghost was once her friend, approximately a year ago, before she had been murdered and left for dead in some frozen lake. It was a wonder they’d found the body, the man on the news said. It was a miracle. A clue.
A fucking dead end.
Cecile kept running with the ghoulish apparition hot on her heels, her bare feet crushing stones and pieces of earth beneath her feet. She knew she was dreaming because something like that would normally hurt, or at the very least be very cold. However, she felt nothing but incredible dread and fear. Overwhelming loss.
She came to the edge of the cliff that she always came to in these kind of dreams and she didn’t hesitate to jump off the ledge. The ghost came behind her and grabbed her by the neck, its cool fingers tightening around her skin as it tried to strangle her.
“Tatiyana…come home.”
“I don’t wanna die!” Cecile shrieked over and over again, and once again she was reminded that her actions proved it only to be a dream. She grabbed the ghost by its fingers and pried the weak digits off one by one, but by then it was too late. They crashed against the water, the akward positions of their bodies making the landing painful. The temperature of the water hurt her much more than the actual water itself-- she was in the middle of Siberia, or so she thought. Water would normally be ice here, but then, she wasn’t dealing with reality at all.
This was a dream and she had to wake herself up.
Submerged beneath the blackness of the water Cecile saw the ghost reach for her again. She emerged and took a deep breath. She couldn’t see which way to swim. Everything was dark and eerie. She swam anyway, figuring the best way to stay alive was to stay away from the ghost. Then, she was snatched back under by her ankle. The ghost was suddenly much stronger than it was before. She looked under and saw that there was more than one ghost now-- there were numerous ghosts, demons, and other things hidden in the darkness of the water. She was pulled under by the force of the hands reaching for her, and was taken to the bottom of the pool.
There, as she struggled to keep her breath, the hands began to grab her by the neck, each attempted to strangle the life out of her. Cecile saw her best friend, her beloved Magdelegna, once more as she stared at her with big bulging red eyes.
Then she died.
*****
“Cecile, Cecile,” Peter tapped her on the arm and stood back as she woke up swinging, scratching, like the bell had just gone off. “Wait a damn minute, it’s me!” he exclaimed, and attempted to hold onto her shoulders to calm her down.
Cecile observed her surroundings, the expression on her face one of bewilderment and fear. “Am I dead? Did I die?” she asked him.
“No, no you didn’t. You just had a bad dream, that’s all.”
Cecile took a deep breath. Her heart was still racing quickly. She could still ‘feel’ the imaginary fingers around her throat, of which, she felt on with her own fingers carefully searching for evidence. “I dreamed that Magdelegna was trying to kill me.” She looked up at her ex and rubbed her hand against her temple. His face was still a mess from the beating he endured the week before at the hands of an unknown person. She promised him she’d find out the responsible party, but it was beginning to look like that would take a long time.
Peter’s face went pale at her admission. “You shouldn’t just fall asleep anywhere. People want to kill you in here, Cecile,” he told her, wanting to change the topic.
“Yeah, that was dumb of me. Don’t know why I did that. I’ve never fallen asleep here. Can’t think of why I would.”
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
“No,” Cecile admitted. “I was too…” she looked at him as she thought of a proper word, “worked up.”
He nodded. “We all get like that in here. It’s a good thing I found you though.”
“How long have I been out of it?” Cecile asked and rubbed the snot out of her eyes.
“I have no idea. I just got here. I don’t think it was too long though. The guards would’ve taken you out to another activity. What are you supposed to be doing here, anyway?”
“I just got out of the isolation block. I thought I was cleaning up. I…I can’t remember much.”
“Maybe you should see the doctor.”
She bristled up at that. “Fuck that. I’m fine. I’ll be good. I just need to walk it off. Thanks, Peter,” she told him and began walking away from the table.
He waited until she was around the corner, out of his sight. “Don’t mention it, Tatiyana.”
*****
Peter wasn’t too fond of Boris Townsend. Especially since the Russian American was a member of the cult he and Cecile had broken their allegiance with months ago, but he needed protection. So did Cecile, it seemed, even if she wasn’t willing to take it. He was not a wrestler like she was, but this was the very least he could do, as an inmate. He knew if Boris wasn’t willing to help traitors based off of merit alone, money would do the talking.
And Peter was quite a rich man in his native country.
Bribery hadn’t stopped the local Siberian Police from arresting him without a warrant though. He wasn’t able to contact his family either, from the inside of this crappy place. It was obvious his entire arrest was something designed to hurt Cecile, to make her vulnerable. He didn’t know what type of enemies she had earned herself from the last time they saw each other, but it was obvious that she didn’t have too many fans within the prisoner ranks.
Boris made a face at Peter as he approached. His two tattooed henchmen stood on either side of him, one with a bald head covered in ink, the other with a healthy head of shaggy hair. Both men were intimidating looking, but Boring himself looked plain mad. “What can I do for ya, Mr. Nobody?” Boris said with some sarcasm, some seriousness, as he took a deep pull from his cigarette. He had a fifteen minute break. Didn’t need this skinny baby faced bitch in his business.
Peter understood Boris’ English enough to respond in the language. “I want protection for me and Cecile.”
Boris snickered and shook his head. “You know The Harlequin’s rules. I can’t offer traitors protection. C’mon Peter. You‘ll have to do better than this.”
“I’ll pay you money, any kind of money you want,” he told him in a thick accent. “All you have to do is name the price and it’ll be yours. We both know I’ll be out of here in a short while. They wanted to keep me here to hurt Cecile. If you do it right noone will have to know.”
Boris blew some smoke out of his nostrils and stood to his feet. “Five hundred thousand. Cash. I want it in my cell by Friday. Otherwise, you and your little girlfriend are dead for you wasting my precious time.”
Peter flinched slightly at the naming of the price. He could afford it, but it was best to let Boris think he couldn’t. “That much?” he asked incredulously.
“Don’t fuck with me you prick. I know you got it layin’ around somewhere in ya daddy’s rich mansion. You got till Friday.”
Peter was alarmed by Boris’ words, so much so that it remained on his mind as he mopped the floor in the showers with four other inmates. Guards watched as they bleached the tiles, pushing their mops to and fro. Peter was not aware of Boris knowing that much about him. He never told anyone in Russia about his family’s history. Then again, the cult he was apart of often made it a point to investigate the people they added to their ranks. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. No.
He was a wanted man, any way he looked at it.
Maybe his incarceration had nothing to do with Cecile at all. Maybe this was just the head of The Harlequin trying to prove a point about people leaving their ranks. That scared him more than the possibility of someone using him to hurt Cecile.
When the guards took them back to their respective cells Peter was surprised with a visit from the Facility Administrator of the female prisoners. Ilya Kunitz stood before Peter, a guard on each side of him, his eyes examining Peter’s beat up body from head to toe.
“Been having a rough time, Mr. Gide?” Ilya asked him in near perfect French.
Peter nodded his head and responded, “As you can see.”
Ilya smiled and got right to the point of his visit. “You’re the ex-boyfriend of Cecile Lecrux?”
“That seems to be all people know me for here. The only reason I’m here, at all.”
Ilya grinned. “Make no mistake about it Mr. Gide,” Ilya remarked in a mocking tone. “You are a hardened criminal who deserves to be here. Being Cecile’s ex is simply a small tidbit that makes you slightly more important. I, however, have evidence that you killed Magdelegna Portia, and I will give it to the proper authorities. IF, you do not do as I say.”
“Bullshit,” Peter spat. “I didn’t kill Maggie! How many fucking times do I have to say that?”
“You can say it as much as you like. Unfortunately for you, it won’t mean a thing once I give The Warden the gun you used to kill her with. Now, do as I say, or simply rot in here forever with your beloved Cecile. The choice is yours.”
With that Ilya left Peter in his cell to contemplate the ultimatum.
*****
I find it funny this week that I’m facing a man who has done nothing but attempted to use my name for the sake of elevating his own celebrity. I am Cecile Lecrux, the Champion Of Siberia, but somehow, this guy is the one to beat?
No, sorry.
The only reason I haven’t pinned your shoulders to the mat is because I haven’t been given the chance to, yet. This Lockdown will put an end to the rumors, to the speculation. Can Cecile Lecrux overcome a walking, talking, slasher movie gimmick? Can she continue to be the dominate crazy bitch we’ve all come to know and love?
Yes, and absolutely, yes.
I’m here to tell you that what happened last week was only a preview to this one. That was no fluke. No, I did not have to pin you to win. That’s called a ‘stipulation’-- just in case you didn’t understand this. Pointing something like that out doesn’t make you smart, Mr. Obvious. It makes you seem like you didn’t realize it at first. Which in your case, I’m sure you didn’t. The fact that you attacked me and my friend afterwards only proves that. It hurt, didn’t it? Realizing you really weren’t cracked up to what you thought you were?
There’s been a bunch of shit talk out of your corner, and quite frankly, I’m ready to shut it down.
No, I’m not above poison, a shank, a bomb-- or anything else that will eliminate my enemies. However Darkseid, something tells me the only way to destroy an idiot like you is to do it with my own hands. Blood. Sweat. Pain. Tears. That’s what it’s going to take to step into a ring with a near seven foot man that declares himself a monster, and dare to win. I’m crazy enough to actually do it. After all, it won’t be the first time.
There’s nothing that excites me more than the unexpected.
All eyes will be watching this match. Ilya, and everyone else in this prison, that thinks a woman shouldn’t be Champion Of Siberian will be watching this extra closely. They want to see if you have what it takes to steal my spot-- something Trent Stone wished he had. The truth of the matter is that there’s nobody like me within these walls. You’d probably have better luck lining up a bunch of bums off the street.
This isn’t about power to me. Let’s face it, were both behind bars a majority of the day. There is no legendary status, money, or even real notoriety to be had in these walls. There’s simply the control of fear. There’s simply strength. You’re only as good as the matches you win, and I’ve got to admit that I’ve won most of them. It’s a simple, hard, fact. I’ll give credit where it’s due though. You’ve given yourself a healthy buzz Darkseid. The fans want to know the answer to this question, and so do the inmates; Can Darkseid defeat the unstoppable?
Because if you can’t defeat me Darkseid, if you can’t put an end to my terror of reign, even I have to wonder who can.
