|
|
|
|
Viewed
23 Times
Megalomaniac Killer
Siberian Wrestling Facilities
Cecile Lecrux sat cross legged in the activity room of Siberian Wrestling’s Facilities and watched Hannibal Cage as he gloated to interviewers eagerly hanging onto his every word as if it were the gospel. Most women would have been appalled by some of the things he said. Hell, most men would have been as well. Instead Cecile sat there, a small nonchalant grin on her face, her skinny arms crossed underneath her chest. The other inmates seated in the activity room offered her hateful glances, craning their necks to see her reactions to Cage’s bitter words, snickering and cheering as they listened to him insult the Siberian Heavyweight Champion. Those closest to her said nothing, because they knew the calm facade was one that held the promise of violence in the very near future.
“Hey uh, Cecile,” one of the inmates, a nobody, hollered from across the activity room. “My rubles are on Hannibal to win!”
“Bitch!” joined in another one. “Hannibal is gonna eat you ALIVE,” he laughed and pretended to bite into his own flesh.
Cecile remained in her seat, seemingly oblivious to the heckling, focused on the television screen. For she was psychotic at times, but she rarely made a scene when provoked. So she sat and waited until the interview was done, her brightly colored eyes still glued to the blackened screen in the corner of the room long after Hannibal finished. One by one the inmates went on to other activities. Eventually, the only one left staring at the television was Cecile herself, as if she expected something else to pop up on the empty screen.
When the guards called her back to her cell the same shit-eating grin was on her face and there it remained as the steel doors closed behind her, long after she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
-----
“So here it is,” Cecile’s sister Sophie began in Russian. “The day I’ve been dreading; you’re going to face Hannibal Cage.” Sophie wiped the sweat off her brow with a dainty napkin as she paced back and forth in Cecile’s narrow cell, clad in a pricey black business suit. It had been days since the Experts Invitational.
Cecile rolled her eyes. As usual she was a skinny inky black haired mess compared to her sister‘s soft feminine appearance. Not that appearances mattered much to Cecile. “I guess everyone is doubting me, huh? Even you.”
“No-- I’m not doubting you Cece, but did you see what he did to Georgie Nickles? I know you normally don‘t give a damn about your own safety, but you‘re leaving in a matter of weeks, and I don’t like the idea of you leaving in a body bag.” Sophie shook her head as she continued to nervously pace.
For the first time since watching the press conference Hannibal Cage had held, Cecile appeared a bit weary. “I’ve let Hannibal Cage invade my thoughts since he emerged in Siberian Wrestling. I’ve treated him like a threat. I’ve given him the respect I thought he deserved, and what does he give me back? Shit talk and sexist bullshit. I’m tired of losing sleep over a man-- no, a fucking imbecile who’s disrespectful and couldn’t care less about those around him. I’m tired,” Cecile said again and looked it. “Now, I’m going to face him head on, and I plan on making him eat every insult he’s flung at me from day one.”
“But you are worried, aren‘t you?” Sophie asked as she looked at her sister.
Cecile tilted her head to the side. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”
“Good, good.” Sophie stopped walking and released a breath she’d been holding in. Cecile frowned at her reaction.
“What’s so good about me being worried? I hate it. I fucking loathe it.”
“I know you usually don’t care about most matches but if you’re worried now, then that means you understand the significance of this. Of beating Hannibal Cage, or, in the worse case scenario, losing to him.”
“Yeah I understand the significance alright, but don’t be silly, sister. Win or lose, I’m going to make sure Hannibal Cage remembers the day he stepped in the ring with me. I‘m going to make sure he remembers it was the worst mistake of his miserable life.”
Sophie smiled at that. “That’s the sister I know,” she commented and sighed. “I’ve got your visa completely ready now. There’s not much left to do but to wait for your actual release. How do you feel about living with my fiancé and I for a little while?”
“Like I’d rather kill myself than lay up at night listening to the two of you go at it,” Cecile curtly commented and put up a hand when her sister wanted to speak, “Have any more wrestling federations shown interest?”
“Two big ones, but I don’t think you’d be interested in them.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They’re not in the middle of Siberia.”
“I thought I told you I didn’t want to come back here,” Cecile said and held her hands out as she gestured to her filthy surroundings. “Or did you think I actually enjoyed staying here?”
Sophie shrugged. “I know you say that now, but I’ve been your sister your whole life. I know you. I know you’ll probably change your mind once you realize how much you miss this place.”
“Miss this place?” Cecile frowned. “Sis, it’s been fun living with mass murders and Russian mafia members, real fun,” she said, her voice thick with thinly veiled sarcasm, “I even had fun when I joined that cult a while back, but you know what? It’s time to leave the frozen tundra behind. I’m sick of Siberia.”
“If you say so. Does that mean you’ll have to lose your title at the big show to Andrei?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not anyone’s bitch and I sure as hell don’t run away from a challenge. If Andrei or Hannibal wants my title, they’re going to have to rip it from my cold, dead, finger tips,” Cecile seriously replied to her sister’s ridiculous question, her familiar eyes giving her a cold hard glare.
Sophie walked away from her sister’s cell with a worried expression on her usually flawless face, her nervousness echoing in the uncertain steps she made as she exited Siberian Wrestling’s Facilities. She pondered on the expression her sister had used. Knowing how far Hannibal would go to get what he wanted-- and it seemed he always got what he wanted-- Sophie couldn’t help the shiver that went up her spine.
“Cold, dead, finger tips,” she whispered her sister’s precise words to herself and walked outside the exit to the prison, wrapping her fur coat around her tightly.
-----
“You did excellent Cecile.” The Warden congratulated Cecile as she worked folding towels in the laundry room. Although, the usual grim lines on his face gave nothing away other than the cool disposition he normally displayed. His hands were behind his back, and he stood rigidly straight, the familiar uniform he wore giving off an aura of power and confidence. “There was some doubt that you couldn’t pull it off, but you still managed to beat Katherine Stryfe.”
Cecile barely listened to The Warden‘s words as she did her daily work, but one word stuck out like a sore thumb. “Doubt, why doubt?” she asked. She abruptly turned and narrowed her eyes at The Warden, the towel she’d been folding now sitting on the floor.
“Katherine is- was- a difficult opponent. It was a victory everyone in Siberian Wrestling could be proud of. Only second to Hannibal‘s victory over Georgie Nickles for the Experts Championship. People will be talking about that for years to come.”
“Of course Katherine was a difficult opponent, she’s Katherine Stryfe, after all, but does everybody think Hannibal Cage is going to hang me from a noose? I am still the Heavyweight Champion of this place, aren‘t I?” Cecile inquired.
“That’s not the case, Cecile. I’ve always shown you respect as the Champion Of Siberia, correct?”
Cecile gave an indifferent shrug. “Yes, you have, to your credit I suppose.”
“Good. Then you know that everyone is not out to get you. There are some people that are still rooting for you, despite everything. You’ve been the Siberian Heavyweight Champion for some time now. Don’t doubt the people in your corner.”
Cecile raised an unruly brow. “The people in my corner? My fans are crazy blood thirsty people that come to a prison in the middle of Siberia to watch me wrestle greasy psychopaths.”
The Warden actually cracked a smile. “Regardless of that, you’re still a hero to some.”
Cecile sighed. “A hero? Now you’re just trying to appease my ego. I‘ll have to warn you that I don‘t have much of one. I already know where I stand in comparison to Hannibal Cage, and I have to tell you, I‘m not exactly the one to bet on to win, but, I like it this way.”
“I thought you would. You play a good underdog. Everyone will be watching Lockdown this week,” The Warden admitted, and Cecile noticed a glint of excitement in his eyes. “As usual, I’ll ask you to be on your best behavior. You have three weeks left to go before your parole date. It‘d be unfortunate for that to change.” He left her standing there in the laundry room, her thoughts deeply consumed by Hannibal Cage yet again, and the inevitable meeting they’d have in the ring. She finished her work and went back to her cell with a hard line set on her lips.
There was no sleep for her that night.
-----
Omsk, Russia
Private Tavern
The feed picked up in an unconventional place miles away from the harsh setting of the prison-- at a humble tavern on the outskirts of Omsk, Russia. Cecile rarely took advantage of her once a month privilege to leave SW, but that day she wanted a taste of the freedom she’d be experiencing fairly soon. The heckling and constant taunts from other inmates, some wrestlers and others simply common crooks, did little to change the one-track mind set she had. Destroy, it said. Survive, it demanded.
It was this same mentality that got her to where she was as the Champion Of Siberia, and she needed it now more than ever. Interestingly enough it took someone from outside the normal Siberian Wrestling spectrum to make her realize how important that was. Interesting and funny, apparently, for as Cecile walked on the snowy terrain surrounding the tavern in a pair of dark denim jeans and a short black leather coat she grinned sadistically. Her clothing and surroundings were a far cry away from what she normally endured these days. She ran her hands through her messy black hair as her eyes gazed over the snow that seemed to span on for miles and miles. Cold wind whipped at her face giving her cheeks a stinging red appearance.
“There were no reporters waiting to take my statement after ‘lord’ Hannibal Cage offered the world his worthless two cents,” she begun in a feminine, slightly Russian accented, voice.
“That was to be expected. I‘m not an international superstar, after all. I do not have a lot of money. I live in a cold, ugly, prison. I am broke, actually, and I‘m not exactly an ideal role model. In theory, I’m little more than a criminal that got a lucky break. I should be grateful for all of the attention I get, correct? Poor, little, pathetic, me.” Cecile spoke directly to the camera and shook her head from side to side when she was done. The cameraman moved in front of her so her face was almost the only thing seen in the shot aside from the wintry landscape.
“I could not care less about being on the news,” Cecile admitted, a slight look of disgust on her face as she did so. “That win over Katherine Stryfe did little more than feed my desire to inflict bodily harm. It felt good to be a winner. It always does. However, at the end of the day I am not going to be in a Wheaties commercial for surviving that hellacious match. I’m not even going to be a contender for the Experts Championship, but to someone like me, there are things that are even more important than fame, fortune, and title shots. For instance, there’s blood, sweat, and tears-- three things that are more precious than gold in my book. And then, there’s a little thing called pride. Yes, pride. Even someone like me has that. What a terribly inconvenient thing that is. It makes me do things I would not normally do to save face.”
Cecile placed a hand on her chin as she begun to walk in the snow. “Ultimately, that is what my match with Hannibal Cage is coming down to this week; Cecile Lecrux trying to hold onto what little pride Siberian Wrestling hasn’t already ripped out of her chest. Hannibal himself on the other hand wrestles for a completely different reason-- to fuel his massive ego and feelings of omnipotence. I’m sure anyone standing in his shoes right now would feel special and different. However, there’s something Hannibal is forgetting, something very important.”
“No matter how good you think you are there’s always someone out there better than you,” Cecile pointedly said and bit her thin bottom lip.
“You’ve yet to meet your match Cage, but I think you’re going to find that defeating me is not the walk in the park you imagined it would be. Coming off a win against arguably one of the best wrestler’s in the business today, you should know better than to underestimate anyone. Lest of all a woman. Your ego though, it seems, simply won’t allow you to admit when there’s a chance for you to be defeated. I expected nothing less than a complete narcissist like you, but I must warn you there’s a reason they call me the mother of darkness. The megalomaniac killer. There’s a reason big shots like you seldom walk through Siberian Wrestling thinking they’ve got things in the bag.”
“That reason is me,” Cecile admitted as she pointed at herself. The expression on her face was serious as the quick cold wind blew her hair in her face for a slight second before slowing down. “I’ve been defending my right to be the Champion Of Siberia from day one. There was always some idiot who thought they could beat me. And it’s still true today. There’s always some asshole, some idiot, some fuck-up, that thinks he or she is deserving enough. Always, it never fails. However, in the end, once they get me in the ring, they quickly realize how wrong they were.”
“Hannibal Cage. The Experts Champion, is no exception to this rule.”
“For as much of a God as you think you are, even you can be bested. Why else would you come to Siberian Wrestling?” Cecile asked the camera, anger dripping off her every word from there on.
“You could’ve went to any federation you wanted to including TFWF, VWF and PWR. There’s a dozen other places I can think of that’s not in a desolate area in the middle Siberia. However, being the real coward that you are, you came to some place you thought you could easily take, because you really thought there was nobody here that would stand up to you.” Cecile stopped and sucked in a deep breath, her anger causing her to ball her fists up and look up to the sky for answers. When she glanced at the camera again with her bright eyes her nostrils flared and the wind blew her hair back away from her face.
“So sorry to burst your tiny balls Hannibal but Experts title or no, I am still the best wrestler in SW today. Still, the Heavyweight Champion. Still, much more significant than you-- and I know how that hurts your delicate, feminine, feelings-- but the truth is the truth. I am still enviable, because I have something you dream of having. While you, on the other hand, have absolutely nothing I would ever want.”
She begun walking again with the camera keeping her angry face in full view. “I find it funny you’d go so far as threatening to hurt the Warden if you do not get your way. It’s childish. A very typical thing a bully and coward would do, so it fits you perfectly. Your daughter is seemingly more of an adult than you’ll ever beat. God bless the poor thing for having you as a father.”
“You beat Georgie Nickles, and I congratulate you on that and that alone. Now that was something. Special. Impressive. Humbling. It was probably the most important thing you had ever done. Do you know the most important thing I’ve done with my life? It was stealing someone else’s identity so I could be let into the United States. That, was a life changing thing for me. That, is something I considered to be special and important. So I feel sorry that you believe winning a title is really the best you could do in life. Most people would say their children are their greatest accomplishments. Then again, you aren’t just any man, are you? No, you’re a sadistic bastard who could care less about his child or anything else other than himself.”
Cecile walked for a while then in silence. The camera followed her every step, making sure to capture the array of emotions that crossed her face every now and then. When she spoke again she was seemingly calmer, although, it was obvious she was still angry. “To be quite frank, I’m nobody significant in the ultimate scheme of things. I’ve won some women’s title in addition to winning the Siberian Heavyweight Championship twice, and that’s about it. I don’t think I’ve been that great of a champion, because it’s just not my style to sit back and sweat having a belt around my waist. To me that’s stupid. It’s not the belt that makes the champion, but the champion that makes the belt. I doubt there’s many people expecting me to win at Lockdown, but that’s not going to stop me from trying my damned best. Make no mistake about it Hannibal, I am a very real threat to you and the legacy you’ve recently acquired. Why? Because life serves no purpose for me if I can’t hurt someone or some thing on a weekly basis,” she confessed and her eyes seemed to bug out of her face as she spoke.
“I’m not going to claim this victory in the name of women, whom you needlessly degrade on a weekly basis. I’m not going to claim it because I’m afraid of what people will say the day after and so forth, either. I couldn’t care less about serving some stupid righteous purpose in life, because ultimately, none of this will matter. Nobody is going to know you after you’re dead Hannibal. Your daughter won’t give a fuck and neither will the little bastards she spits out of her vagina. I’m going to do this for my own selfish reasons--because you’ve decided to make yourself the very last man I emasculate before I finally get to leave this place by opening that disrespectful mouth of yours.”
“I may not be as big of a star as you are Hannibal, but in my book you’re little more than another ego driven power hungry bastard for me to completely and utterly destroy,” Cecile told the camera, her cheeks still red with anger and coldness. She continued the walk as the cameraman stopped moving so when she left the frame the snowy background of the Omsk tavern was all that could be seen. The feed begun to slowly fade until there was nothing but blackness on the screen.
-----
Comments
|
|
|
|
