Out of Control

April 1, 2024 Grounds outside Gwyrch Castle

Paxton Ray shuffled through the forest, the North Wales police officer a few feet behind him. As soon as the Wargames event was over, Paxton knew his next move.

“It’s up ahead,” he grumbled. When he saw the officer near the castle the morning after his team outlasted three others in a brutal, hours long fight, he knew this would likely be his only chance to do the right thing and take down MESSIAH the right way.

The officer grunted in reply. Paxton knew the cop didn’t trust him; hell, who could blame him when a man covered in bruises and cuts tells you there’s a human trafficking complex in the middle of the castle grounds? But he was coming along anyway.

Paxton felt the familiar feeling of confusion as they walked further in. He found it twice, but that was in the same day, once by accident and once with the confidence and companionship of his new friend Sage Pontiff. This was almost a week later, and he already began thinking about how he’d deal with the prospect of taking the cop on a wild goose chase through the forest when he saw the barbed wire in the distance through the branches of trees.

“There,” Paxton pointed excitedly, speeding up his pace. They slowed down as they came upon the clearing. “There were men with guns before, so let’s…” he stopped and cocked his head. The building was there, but the guards were not.

“I don’t see anyone,” the officer said as they slowly approached the building. Paxton reached the entrance and looked around, but he could already feel that the building was empty.

Or almost empty. The hair stood up on his neck and he already knew. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“What?” the officer asked, then looked past him at the man standing in the middle of the empty complex.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Julian Bathory said, smiling. “Officer, thank you for keeping my friend safe during the travel through this dangerous wood. You can return to your station.”

Paxton looked at the cop, who smiled and nodded. “God dammit,” Paxton said as he was left alone with the Carpathian Devil. “Is everybody on your fuckin’ payroll?”

“Not yet.”

_______

April 7, 2024 MESSIAH Wrestling Academy

Paxton Ray was used to people sneering at him when he walked in a room. In fact, it was the default reaction wherever he went. Seeing Petra’s reaction when he walked in was a new experience. Her face read confusion, but also a hint of something else. Relief? Joy?

“You are not supposed to be here,” Petra said.

“Yeah, I woulda preferred not t’make a bunch of international flights, believe me.” Paxton slung his gym bag off of his shoulder and walked towards the back, with Petra following. “But MESSIAH said jump, so here I am.”

“Ah, we are back to being lapdog,” Petra answered with a smile, but it vanished from her face as Paxton wheeled on her.

“No fuckin’ more.”

“What?”

“Lap dog. Don’t ya ever call me a fuckin’ lap dog again. Ya can think it all ya want, ya can write in your goddamn journal that I’m yella-bellied and a coward and whatever the fuck ya think a’me, but I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it. Understand?”

Petra stared up at the Bayou Butcher, then shrugged. “Fine.” He resumed his walk with her following behind. “I am surprised you are in such a sour mood," she said. "After all, you win War Games. You get to fight a man who has not yet won in PRIME. You should be happy.”

Paxton reached the locker room door and stopped as he grabbed the door. “Yeah, I fuckin’ should, shouldn’t I?” he said as he slammed it behind him.

_______

“Come here, Paxton. Let us talk.”

“What’d ya do with everyone here?” Paxton asked as he walked towards Bathory, looking around at the abandoned complex.

“I did nothing. Everyone left on their own will.”

“Yeah? Even the kids you’re keeping from their parents?”

Paxton stared at Bathory, studying his eyes, looking for some reaction. The smile stayed affixed to his face. “You make it sound like something it isn’t. These are daycare facilities for the children of MESSIAH members.”

The Lafayette Bruiser snorted. “If it’s so innocent, why the barbed wire? Why did the teacher end the call as soon as I saw what was goin' on? Hell, why did everyone leave here as soon as I found out about it?”

That got a reaction. Bathory’s smirk dropped, then came back, then shifted. Paxton thought he saw frustration behind Bathory’s eyes, and it was confirmed when the Director spoke. “I assume we have reached the end of the cycle where gentle words will assuage you.”

“Ya think? Did it end when I popped ya in the fuckin’ face a couple months back?”

The smile finally disappeared for good. “I told you once that your spirit was welcome in MESSIAH. That your aggressive personality, even when directed at me and my family, delighted me and was an asset.”

Paxton opened his mouth again but was suddenly hit on the back of his head. He stumbled, then fell as he felt something hard crash into his head. He lifted his hand to his head to check for blood but saw a boot step down on his hand. He looked up and saw Wilhelm Von Krauser standing over him, grinning.

Julian Bathory knelt down so that his face was inches from Paxton’s.

“I lied.”

_______

Paxton burst through the locker room and nearly ran right into Chet Fleetwood, who held his hands up.

“Woah, UK Ray, what’s the rush?”

After mouthing “UK Ray?” Paxton tried to push past Chet. “Got a class t’teach, since I had to come home for it.”

“Nah, not today. I’ve been fighting with Bertrand all week but we’re going to put your career first today.”

“What’s that mean?” Paxton asked.

“It means you’re preparing for your match at ReV 46. You’re going to spar with someone who fits Dawkins’ size and ring profile.”

Paxton sighed, then leaned against the wall. “So you’re tellin’ me I came home from the UK ‘cause MESSIAH demanded it, an’ now instead’a doin’ what they tol’ me t’do, I’m jus’ gonna wrestle somebody who’s sorta the same size as the Hawaiian?”

“That’s right.”

“An’ lemme guess. I ain’t gotta choice.”

Chet looked around him, gesturing towards the different wrestlers and trainers milling around. “Who here has a choice? It’s MESSIAH’s world. We’re just doing evil shit in it.”

“Fine. Who’s the Dawkins double?” Paxton asked, then moved his feet back as a chunk of pineapple splashed near his ankles.

“Hey Bruh. Are you ready, Bruh? Bruh bruh,” Quinn Fleetwood said, chewing a chunk of pineapple and grimacing. “Ugh, all this acid is going to give me mucosal irritation.”

Paxton looked from Quinn to his father. “Really?”

“They’re the same weight, and they both look hot in multi-colored sunglasses. Quinn could use a tan, though.”

“Hey!”

“Whatever,” Paxton said, leaving the Fleetwoods and walking over to Petra, who eyed him cooly.

“Are you here to yell at me again?”

“Prob’ly,” he said, walking up to her until they were nearly chest-to-chest. “Ya knew ‘bout the complex, didn’t ya?”

Her gaze immediately dropped to the floor. “Yes.”

“So that’s what that kiss was for? T’distract me?”

This brought Petra’s eyes back to him with an icy stare. “I do not do things for other people. I am not a l…” Petra caught the words in her mouth. “I am not a tool of MESSIAH. I do things because I want to do them. I wanted to kiss you. So I did.”

Paxton inched closer to her. “Oh yeah? An’ whaddaya wanna do right now?”

Petra stared up at him for a moment, then lifted her chin and closed her eyes. Paxton started to close his when he heard someone behind him.

“Sorry, Pax, I tried to stop–”

He turned around swiftly to see Aaron “Dith Timble standing in front of Julie Dunn, who was staring at Paxton with wide eyes.

“Wha?”

“Hey Paxton…can we talk?”

_______

“You felt emboldened when you punched me, I fear,” Bathory said, sneering inches away from Paxton’s face. “And you have used that boldness to stray further from us. I ignored it for as long as I could, but I am afraid that has to end now.”

Dimitri Gouskos lifted Paxton up only to level him with a stiff punch to the face. “Not feeling so strong now, are you?”

Paxton spit towards Gouskos, strings of blood sticking themselves on his boots. This earned Paxton a kick to the face as Bathory watched.

“You have a purpose, I understand. You wish to be reconciled with your daughter. Unfortunately for you, that purpose runs against what we do in MESSIAH. I will no longer allow you to openly spit in our faces by going against our purpose. You have rage, you have a free spirit, you have the will to fight against us. And we will stomp that out of you until you cannot walk any path but ours.”

Von Krauser began to stomp on Paxton’s legs, then leaned forward in the Bayou Butcher’s face. “Was that a little too on the nose?” Smirking, the German sent a kick into Paxton’s ribs, causing Paxton to fall flat on his back, staring up at the trees.

“This was the worst side effect of my patience, of my neutrality. You believed, with your rage and free spirit, that you were in control of your life. That you still had a chance to escape the trap in which you’ve been ensnared. But please listen carefully.

“You are a piece on a chess board. You move where you are told to move. You attack who you are told to attack. You are taken when you are told to be taken.”

Paxton smirked, blood dripping down his lips. “How original, a goddamn pawn analogy.”

Julian lurched forward, sending a kick into Paxton’s teeth. “No, Paxton, not a pawn. Even the king, seen the most important piece, or the queen, the most powerful piece, are just pieces of wood until a hand moves them. At the end of the day, however you see yourself, you are just waiting to be moved by someone with agency. You have no control.”

_______

Paxton pulled Julie to the end of the street, not realizing how tight his grip was until she started rubbing it once they stopped. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Paxton, what is going on? You left for Wales early without talking to me. You haven’t called me, you haven’t called Shweta. You come home, you…” she stared at his face and hands and frowned. “...you look like you got thrown into a garbage disposal.”

“Tough match in Wales,” he muttered.

“I just want to know what happened. And why you aren’t working with us to get Nora back.”

At his daughter’s name, Paxton closed his eyes. “I ain’t…I can’t get her back, Julie.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“When I was in Wales, I…” he touched his ribs, then sighed. “We lost. It’s over. Jus’ go back t’helpin’ Jon walk again an’ forget any’a this ever happened, okay?”

He expected her to cry, or slap him, or something other than what she did, which was smile. “No.”

“No?”

“No. Nora needs help. And maybe you feel trapped by these people…” Julie frowned again, looking at the building. “But I don’t. Shweta isn’t going to stop looking for her. She won’t give up on Nora, and I won’t give up on you.”

Paxton stared at her for a few moments, then on the hand that she had planned on his arm. He felt his phone buzz, then pulled it out and looked at the incoming video call request from Sage Pontiff. He rejected the call with a scowl, then directed the scowl at Julie. “What, ya didn’t hear me? I said t’fuckin’ forget about it!”

“Pax–”

“Is nobody gonna listen t’me? Am I s’posed t’jus’ sit here and let everybody do what they want while I can’t do shit about it?”

Julie reached for him, but he took his arm away and strode across the street towards the gym. Leaning against the building, he tilted his head to the sky and ran his hand through his beard. “What the fuck am I s’posed t’do?” he asked himself.

His answer came in the form of a chime on his phone. He pulled it out and saw it was Sage again, this time as a voicemail. He clicked the button and closed his eyes.

“Hey, Pax.  Just uh...just reaching out.  I'm pretty bored here and this isn't exactly a friendly place for someone with my everything, but I've met a couple of decent folks.  Not to get weird, I just miss you and wish I could help.  Not even sure with what, you were pretty tight lipped--and that's your business, that's your way.  I'm not here to step on any toes.  Just remember who you are, Paxton.  Lots of people in the square community see us both as the same thing because we're not what they define as ‘normal’.  But you're exactly who you need to be at this moment.  Being anything else would be a lie you were telling yourself.  Hit me back.”

Paxton stood in silence, letting Sage’s words ring in his ears. After a second, he nodded and walked towards the entrance. Pushing the doors open, he found Chet, who was microwaving popcorn in the kitchen. “Let’s get this fuckin’ match started.”

“Right now?”

“Right. Now.”

_______

The attack finally relented as both Gouskos and Von Krauser fell back, standing behind Bathory. The Carpathian Devil smirked. “You will not look for your daughter. You will not organize with others to look for her. You will not do anything outside of your role. You wrestle in PRIME. You train my students. You sleep. I guarantee that if you do not listen to me, your daughter will not survive.”

Paxton used his fists to push himself up, looking up at Bathory. He stared at the man who had enthralled him, who had sucked him into MESSIAH, the man who held the key to his happiness in his hand.

Paxton’s fists slipped and he fell into the grass, his eyes closed.

“Return home. Bertrand will take care of the details. I will tell you where you are to move next. Forever the Crown.”

Paxton waited until the sounds of grass crunching faded away, then stared up at the trees again.

_______

“Now, the thing about Dawkins is that he’s grounded. Like Quinn, he’s more technical, suplexes and the–what the fuck, Paxton?!”

Paxton didn’t hear any of Chet’s advice. He didn’t hear the bell. He didn’t even hear the satisfying smack of his fist careening into Quinn’s face. All he heard was Bathory’s voice in his head.

“You have no control.”

Once Quinn was on the ground, Paxton began to stomp on Quinn’s legs. He sneered as he began to send kicks into Quinn’s chest.

“You are a piece on a chess board.”

Paxton’s mind began to dull. The voices faded, as did the world around him. He found himself back in the ring in the MGM Grand in Las Vegas.

“Pax! What the hell!”

He found himself hugging Jonathan Rhine. Feeling The New Life’s breath against his ear as he whispered how proud he was of Paxton.

“Stop! Come on, stop it!”

He found himself in the ring in St. Louis, standing over Sammy Broadway as the man crawled towards him on mangled legs. He felt the air chill around him, heard the boos of the crowd begging him for mercy.

“Somebody go in there and grab his ass!”

“I’m not doing it.”

He found himself holding them up, feeling their limp bodies hang over his, as he prepared to fall.

“SOMEBODY FUCKING SAVE MY BOY!”

He heard the crunch, and finally he found himself back in New Orleans.

Paxton stood up and felt a hand on his back. He whirled around, hands up, then lowered them as Petra grabbed his arm. “Come on, out of the ring.”

He let her lead him out, finally hearing the sounds of screams behind him.

_______

Paxton’s Anger Journal 4/7/2024

What sucks ain’t havin no control. Yeah, that part sucks. But what really sucks is thinkin you had it before. You think you were doin everythin for yourself and by yourself and you realize someone else was lettin you do it. 

I’m not sure why I believed I could actually get Nora back, but I know now that I only believed it because I was allowed to believe it. Over a year ago I trusted powerful men with a shady background to find my daughter, and they did, but it came with a price I’ll never be able to pay.

I took Bathory for granted. I figured he’d feel so safe from any threat that he wouldn’t see it comin. But the reason threats don’t ever become actions against MESSIAH is because he sees it all. 

How does he see it all? I guess it don’t matter anymore, but I sure as hell ain’t gonna talk to any of em about my plans again.

They have my daughter. They have countless other kids. They’re everywhere in the world, hurtin people. If anyone not on their payroll found one of these complexes, they’d be done. But there ain’t shit I can do about it. 

But even as I sit here, bruised and broken, I know somethin that they don’t know. 

I still have some control left.

_______

Paxton sat in the chair of Bertrand Ward’s office as Petra stood over him, her hand on his shoulder.

“That was dumb. You just lost your manager in PRIME. You may have lost your daughter.”

Paxton didn’t answer.

“You are mad. And I think I know why. But to do something so reckless does not help your cause. How can you–”

Petra stopped as Paxton stood up and pushed her against the wall. “Are ya really mad about what I did, or are ya mad some other woman came lookin’ for me today?”

“Don’t be ridic–”

“I still don’t know why the hell ya kissed me.”

Petra threw her arms in the air. “Why are you so focused on one kiss?”

“Because I need t’know what the fuck we are!” Paxton screamed, causing Petra to fall silent. “Listen. If it’s really true that it’s over, and I’m never gonna see Nora again…I ain’t okay with it. But maybe I’ll be…I’ll be fine. Eventually. If I have…somethin.’”

Petra stared at him for a few moments. She looked down at her hand, which had dropped into his. She moved it slightly, and his fingers closed around hers. Then, she frowned. “I cannot give you what you want.” She untangled her fingers and left the room.

Paxton stared after her, then grabbed the chair he had been sitting in and launched it at the window, shattering it to pieces. He heard heavy footsteps as Bertrand Ward arrived, breathing heavily. “What–Paxton, what are you doing?”

Bertrand walked in and surveyed the damage, then turned around and frowned at Paxton. “What is going on here? You mangle your student, you destroy my office. What is wrong with you?”

Looking up, Paxton’s lips curled into a grin. “I guess I'm jus’ outta control, Bertie.”

_______

It don’t matter how much I lose. How little I can control. It don’t matter if I ain’t got Petra, or Julie, or even Nora.

I’ll always have control when the bell rings. 

I was in control when I took away Jon’s ability to walk. I was in control when I stomped the music out of Sammy Broadway. And even if I fight and lose outside of those ropes, once I step inside em, win or loss, that’s somethin that’s mine. I'm still gonna be who I am when I'm there. 

I ain’t gonna paralyze Bryan Dawkins, but whatever does happen to him in that ring? That’s somethin I’m in control of. And I ain’t givin up that control to anybody.