MONSTERS & VOICES

I - Three Days Before ReVival 59

"You have a death wish, non?"

FLAMBERGE finally broke the silence.

We shouldn’t be here. We have things to do.

"Ivan Stanislav is not some corporate lawyer you can intimidate with clever words, chérie."

You know those places that feel like they exist in a different dimension? O'Malley's Corner is one of those joints - the kind of bar that Vegas tourists would walk right past without a second glance, which is precisely why it’s loved. The neon wonderland of the Strip might as well be on Mars compared to this beautiful dump, where the lights are always set to "morning after" and the wood paneling has absorbed enough cigarette smoke to qualify as jerky.

FLAMBERGE sat across from Rose, ice cubes performing their slow-motion dance in his whiskey glass. The whole scene was pure O'Malley's: two PRIME wrestlers hiding out in their unofficial sanctuary, surrounded by the greatest hits of dive bar ambiance. You know the playlist: the muffled thwack of darts finding their target, pool balls conducting their geometry lessons, the low murmur of conversations that'll be forgotten by sunrise.

Rose's fingers waltzed around the rim of her untouched glass, probably leaving DNA evidence of whatever was eating at her. The booth they occupied had seen thousands of confessions over the years - you could practically read them in the scattered tabletop scratches, each one a secret carved into the weathered surface. Here, tucked away in their leather-bound confessional, PRIME's finest could shed their sparkly spandex personas and just... exist. No cameras, no fans, no bullshit. Just whiskey, silence, and whatever truth was about to spill from Rose's lips.

"I can handle myself," Rose replied, fingers tracing the rim of her untouched glass.

"Like you handled yourself against Hessian?" FLAMBERGE's eyebrow arched. "Another monster. Another death wish, perhaps?"

Dancing with death would be a blast, though. 

Rose's lips curved into a slight smile. "Not a death wish. Strategy."

"Strategy?" FLAMBERGE leaned forward. "Do tell."

"You want to fight a monster like Ivan? You need experience with monsters." Rose sat back, her posture shifting to something more confident. "Hessian's the closest thing PRIME has to Ivan's raw power. Different style, same... presence."

Plus, who doesn’t enjoy snapping their boot across the face of a giant and watching him fall to the mat. Mmm, it gets me all excited just thinking about it.

FLAMBERGE tilted his head, considering this. "Ah. Perhaps there is a brain beneath all that blind rage after all." He paused as fresh drinks arrived. "Though the smarter move would have been to run as far and fast as possible."

"Run?" Rose's voice hardened. "After what happened to Jamaal, Cory, and David? No. I don’t know if it was the eGG Bandits or The Red Army, but I intend to tackle this head-on. People are playing fucking games, and I’m tired of them. That’s my family. It’s time for a new set of rules.”

Yes, new rules love. Stop handcuffing yourself. Except in the bedroom. 

"And yet, that didn’t stop them from taking out Jamaal and Cory." FLAMBERGE played with the rim of his glass. "They watched from the shadows to take out David. They waited until you were split from him and seized the opportunity. You’re going to be alone going into 59, and that’s exactly how they want you. And if it’s Ivan? You’ve made an enemy that won’t stay down."

"You did it," Rose countered. "Last year, you beat him. How?"

FLAMBERGE's trademark arrogance crossed his features. "How? Because I am the best, that's how." His smile faded slightly. "But even I did not escape unscathed. Ivan is... different. He is not like Cancer Jiles, who you can outwit. Not like Brandon, who you can match in intensity. Ivan is a force of nature."

"I've gotten under his skin," Rose insisted.

Let’s be honest; he doesn’t acknowledge you when you’re not in his sights. You want to get his attention? I can help with that. 

"Non." FLAMBERGE's voice was sharp. "You think you have. But Ivan? He is like the spider, watching the fly dance closer and closer to the web. Each little victory you think you've had? Each time you've mocked him or Alexei? He's been watching, learning, waiting."

Rose's glass stopped halfway to her lips. "You sound afraid of him."

"Not afraid. Respectful. There is a difference." He leaned forward again. "I beat him because I understood what I was facing. You? You're running headlong into a buzzsaw, thinking it's just another match." He studied her face intently. "Why? Why really pick this fight? This isn't about KING, not entirely. This isn't about your father's legacy. There's something else."

Because fighting is fun, duh. Who doesn’t want to dance with monsters twice your size in the moonlight? Call it preparation for the future world that half the country just voted in.

Rose set down her glass, her hand trembling slightly. The pub suddenly felt too warm, too close.

"He sent Alexei to my home," she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the ambient noise. "In the middle of the night. Near my daughter."

FLAMBERGE went very still. "Quoi?"

"Alexei was in my house." Rose's voice cracked slightly. "Standing in my bedroom. While my daughter slept down the hall."

The silence that followed was deafening. FLAMBERGE's expression shifted from concern to something darker.

"When?" he demanded.

"After I wrote the article about my father." Rose's fingers tightened around her glass. "He said he came to offer condolences."

"Merde," FLAMBERGE breathed. He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "And now you march straight at Ivan? C'est de la folie."

"What would you have me do?" Rose's voice carried an edge of desperation. "Hide? Run? Wait for the next visit?"

FLAMBERGE opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. After a long moment, he simply said, "Tell me everything. From the beginning."

II - Before ReVival 58

The air felt thick, almost unbreathable, as Rose stood frozen before the mountain of a man who had invaded her sanctuary. The soft whir of her daughter's sound machine drifted down the hallway—a cruel reminder of their vulnerability. Her heart hammered against her ribs with such force she was certain Alexei must hear it, but she forced her face to remain a mask of cold defiance.

Copper. She could taste copper in her mouth, her jaw clenched so tight she'd bitten the inside of her cheek without realizing it. Every survival instinct screamed at her to run, fight, or do something, but her daughter's safety anchored her in place, forcing a terrible calculation: what move would best protect her child?

"I mean you no harm," Alexei said in a low, measured voice, his accent thick but clear. The shadows from the desk lamp carved deep hollows beneath his eyes, making him appear more serpentine than human.

Rose's throat constricted, threatening to betray her terror. She swallowed it down, forcing steel into her voice. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe." Adrenaline coursed through her veins — tingling her fingers — as she fought the urge to turn them into fists. "You know, considering you’re mere feet from my daughter’s bedroom. If you take one step in the wrong direction, I will do whatever it takes to protect her."

The sound of a car passing outside made her flinch internally, though she maintained her rigid posture. The street light filtering through her curtains cast strange, shifting patterns across Alexei's face as he raised his hands slowly, palms forward.

"It will not come to that, Miss Rose." His pause carried the weight of an avalanche waiting to fall. "And if it did, you wouldn't enjoy the outcome."

The threat sent ice through her veins but also sparked something else—a familiar rage she'd inherited from her father. She shifted her weight, inching closer, using the anger to mask her fear. The floorboard beneath her foot creaked, and she saw Alexei's eyes flick down for a fraction of a second—a fighter's instinct noting every detail.

"I witnessed something recently," he continued, his voice taking on an almost contemplative tone that made him more terrifying. "Something deeply troubling. Ivan's match with Nate Colton." His expression darkened, and Rose noticed a muscle twitching in his jaw. "I should have been there. To help him. To protect him. To ensure his victory."

The wall clock ticked loudly in the silence that followed, each second an eternity. Rose could feel sweat forming at the base of her neck, but she didn't dare move to wipe it away.

"That doesn't explain why you're in my house," she managed, surprised by the steadiness of her voice. "You've got ten seconds before I stop giving a fuck."

"The Russian who faced Colton?" Alexei shook his head slowly, his angular frame shifting like a shadow coming to life. "That wasn't the Ivan Stanislav I know. The man who struck fear into hearts. The man I've served faithfully." His eyes narrowed, and Rose caught a glimpse of something almost desperate in them. "Too many distractions. Things must change. He must be... redirected. Put back on his proper path."

Rose's tongue felt like sandpaper as she spoke. "Still waiting for the part where this involves breaking into my home in the middle of the night."

"You've been a persistent thorn in his side for months now," Alexei said, his voice dropping even lower. "But what has it accomplished? What is your end goal?" He took a measured breath that seemed to fill the entire room. "Perhaps we can help each other."

A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up from Rose's chest. She forced it down, transforming it into something bitter and cutting. "Help each other? You must be out of your mind."

“Rose—” something sounded awfully close to pleading in his voice. “I know you want Ivan at his best if you’re to step foot in the ring with him. I want him back, too. There is more common ground here than you realize.”

“Get the fuck out of my home. Now.”

The words came out steadier than she felt, each syllable a small victory over her mounting panic. Her pulse roared in her ears as Alexei nodded slightly, beginning to move past her toward the door. The scent of his cologne—something harsh and Eastern European—made her nostrils flare. As he passed, something took over.

Her hand shot out, fingers curling into the rough fabric of his jacket. In one fluid motion, born of training and terror, she yanked him close and drove her forehead into his face. The impact sent shockwaves through her skull, but the crack of cartilage was satisfying.

"Listen carefully," she snarled, watching blood from his nose drip onto her hardwood floor. Her voice came out in a guttural whisper, primal and raw. "I don't give a single fuck what you or Putin's goons will do to me. But if any of you come near my daughter again?" Her fingers dug deeper into his jacket, knuckles white with strain. "I will put you all in the ground. Test me and find out."

Alexei's response froze her blood—a low, rumbling laugh that seemed to emanate from deep in his chest, accompanied by a pleased smile. Blood trickled down his chin as he nodded, almost appreciatively, before carefully extracting himself from her grip. His footsteps were unnaturally quiet as he moved toward the door. He spoke loudly as he exited.

“Do svidaniya…”

The soft click of the front door closing was what finally broke her.

Rose’s legs gave out first — her knees buckling while sliding down the nearby wall. She barely felt the scrapes across her back from the rough texture as she slid down it. She felt a tightening in her chest as if trapped in a vice. Each breath became shorter than the last while the room spun around her, her home feeling more like something alien and threatening in the process.

Rose knew her daughter was down the hall, oblivious to the nightmare that’d just unfolded. Rose pressed her palms against her eyes and tried to stop the trembling that had overtaken her body. But the shadows seemed to press in from all sides, and every creak of the house settling sent fresh waves of panic through her system.

In the darkness of her home—no longer a sanctuary—Rose fought against the rising tide of terror, knowing sleep would not come again that night.

Or for many nights to come.

The copper taste returned to her mouth, but this time from tears she hadn't realized were falling.

III - Three Days Before ReVival 59

"Putain de merde," FLAMBERGE muttered, rubbing his temples. The story Rose had just shared—Alexei in her home, near her child—had sobered him up faster than any amount of coffee could. "He just... appeared in your bedroom? Like some sort of Russian boogeyman?"

"Like a ghost," Rose confirmed, her voice hollow. "One moment I was alone, the next..."

"And you headbutted him?" FLAMBERGE couldn't entirely hide the hint of admiration in his voice. "Très bien, but..." He shook his head, the neon from the window casting his face in alternating shades of blue and red. "This changes everything. This monster, Rose... Ivan will break you for this. Not just your body—everything. And for what? To prove something?"

"Thanks for all the help." Rose's voice dripped sarcasm as she finally lifted one of her untouched glasses. "Really. This pep talk is exactly what I needed."

"I tell you like it is, chérie. Always." FLAMBERGE leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But since you seem determined to dance with the devil named Hessian..." He glanced around the bar as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Speed. Agility. These are your weapons. His hands? They are death. You let him grab you, c'est fini."

Hm. Good point. Don’t let the monster from Parts Unknown grab you. This does seem wise. Like something we should do.

The ice in Rose's glass clinked as she set it down. "And?"

"And?" FLAMBERGE's eyes narrowed. "You must be more ruthless than you have ever been. These rules you live by? The ones your father taught you? The ones KING believes in? They will get you killed." He tapped his finger on the table for emphasis. "You want to survive? Stop playing by everyone else's rules."

Oh, now you’re warming me up, Julian. Yes, new rules. Tear up the old rules. Rip. Rip. Rip. Time to burn the motherfucking house down. Hopefully Hessian is in it. That would raise the stakes and send a message to the roster. Fuck with Rose, you fucking die. Okay, maybe the slogan needs some work to it. 

Peter Gabriel's "Red Rain" filtered through the speakers, its ominous melody oddly fitting. Sadly, it’s no Sledgehammer. "Is that what you did?" Rose asked. "Against Ivan?"

FLAMBERGE's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I stared into the abyss that day, chérie. I looked a monster in the eyes and said, 'non, pas aujourd'hui.'" He paused, studying her face. "Your resolve? It must be unbreakable. Like steel forged in the hottest fires. There is going to be the side of you that tells you to stop, and you must eat that side of yourself whole."

The ice in his fresh drink had already started to melt, creating swirling patterns in the pink liquid. "Perhaps..." he mused, "perhaps this dance with Hessian is not as foolish as it seems. To face Ivan Stanislav, you need to find something inside yourself. Something that has been sleeping." His voice softened. "You need to be more like your father than ever before. The impossible? He made it look easy."

Rose's fingers had stopped their nervous dance on the table's surface, a thought crossing across her face that wasn’t hers. Julian saw it briefly as if a war was happening internally that he wasn’t privy to. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mais oui."

"Do you ever..." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Do you ever hear voices? In your head? Ones that don't seem like your own?"

What are you doing? Stop it. Now. 

FLAMBERGE's hand froze halfway to his drink. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips as he completed the motion, taking a long sip through his straw. "The...well.” His eyes betray a sort of “MYORMing” that escapes words. “Have you?"

Wait. What was that?

The ambient noise of the bar seemed to fade away as Rose stared into her glass as if searching for answers in the amber liquid. "I'm not sure anymore."

Something in her tone made FLAMBERGE set his drink down. The shadows under her eyes suddenly seemed more profound, more pronounced. "Rose?"

This is not part of the approved message we came up with. Stick to the script.

"Sometimes I find things I've said," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Things I don't remember doing or saying. Words that feel... foreign. Like someone else is trying to..." She shook her head, letting the thought die unfinished.

No more. Enough is enough—time to go.

FLAMBERGE opened his mouth to respond, but Rose was already standing, gathering her purse. "I should go. Early morning tomorrow. Give your mother my best."

"Wait—" He reached for her wrist. "After what you told me about Alexei, about these... voices... you alright on your own?—"

"Thanks for the drinks," she cut him off, turning toward the door. "And the advice."

FLAMBERGE watched her retreat, his expression troubled. He raised his Sea Breeze in a silent toast as she pushed through the door into the Vegas night. "Bonne chance, chérie," he muttered. "You are going to need it."

In the parking lot, Rose paused under a flickering street lamp. Her hand shook as she reached for her keys, and for a moment, she could have sworn she saw someone else's reflection in her car window—a darker version of herself, smiling back with unfamiliar malice.

She blinked, and it was gone.

But the voice in her head remained, whispering of vengeance and violence, growing louder each day.

A reminder of what she’d done.

IV - Three Days Prior

Shadows danced across the walls — courtesy of the headlights of the cars passing by, the light cutting through the darkness like searchlights. Rose simply sat in the oversized armchair as she savored the quiet. Each passing vehicle cast new patterns through the blinds, and she watched them with predatory patience, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Her thoughts drifted to Hessian—the mountain of a man she'd deliberately provoked into fury. She needed this fight. She needed to test herself against raw power, against someone who could match Ivan's brutality. The bigger they are, after all... A test run of sorts. The simple dunking had irritated Rose, but the moment she landed in the dumpster, the idea unfolded before her very eyes. She knew she needed to amp up the verbal intensity, and Hessian would give her what she wanted -- a match.

And if the eGG Bandits were behind what happened to KING, well, that would be an added bonus.

The attacks on her family still burned in her mind. Jamaal, Cory, David—all taken out methodically, surgically. The Red Army? The Bandits? The pieces were there; it would be great if she could just make them fit. Her fingers flexed against the chair's arm, remembering the feeling of Alexei's jacket in her grip, the satisfying crunch of cartilage. That was just the beginning.

The rage that usually burned so hot had cooled to something harder, sharper. Clinical. This wasn't about revenge anymore—it was surgery. Precise cuts to excise a cancer. First Hessian, then Ivan. Let them think she was being reckless. Let them underestimate her. She had goals, plans that wouldn’t be stopped. Hessian was simply the next marker on her path -- as was Ivan.

The gentle hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic created a perfect white noise, accompanying the methodical turning of her thoughts. Everyone thought she was running headlong into disaster, but they didn't understand. Couldn't understand. This wasn't recklessness or a death wish. This was chess, and she was finally ready to make her move.

A dog barked in the distance. A car door slammed outside. Then another. The corner of Rose's mouth twitched upward—right on schedule.

Keys jingled in the lock. The door handle turned.

Light flooded the room, harsh and sudden. Once her eyes adjusted, Rose saw a woman. Frozen in the doorway, she stood there. The keys dangled from her fingers, nearly slipping away from the shock and disbelief she felt that was now etched into her face.

This wasn't Rose's home at all. The furniture, the layout, the photos on the walls—all belonged to someone else. She had been sitting in another's darkness, waiting.

Rose smiled, and this time, it reached her eyes with a predator's gleam.

"Hello, Arina."