A sharp, desperate inhale ripped through my lungs, sudden and jagged. It felt like a serrated blade cutting through my trachea. My lungs burned as a violent panic gripped me. The stench of gasoline and exhaust fumes had overtaken my senses. Each breath I took - shallow and stifled by the thick fabric stretched across my mouth. Everything was black. My head pounding. Ah fuck - I could feel the fraying rope, my hands are bound. This lonely trunk - my entire world now. A coffin lined with rust and the smell of mildew.
The rattling of the engine roaring down the highway sent a chill down my spine. I knew what all of this meant. This was a throwaway car. Everything about this felt professional. They’ll probably set it on fire. Easy. Clean. Almost impossible to collect usable evidence.
That’s what I would do.
The driving rain grew louder, or maybe the car was slowing down. Time felt stretched, twisted. Minutes turned to hours turned to lifetimes. Each turn, every vibration sent me bouncing off the unforgiving walls of my prison on wheels. My temple hit something sharp and jagged. I could feel the blood trickling down my face, sticky and warm, a bitter contrast to the icy air slowly leaking through the seams.
Okay Matthias, slow and steady breaths, stay calm, assess the situation. See, hear, taste, touch, smell. I thought to myself. Something I had picked up from a very bad man on a drug-addled night in Tirana. One of the only things I remember from that night. Albania has a way about it.
What do you see?Almost nothing besides the faint glow of streetlights crawling through this dark sack covering my face and the rusted out hole in the trunk lid.
What do you hear?The growl of the engine, the rain hitting the metal trunk like bullets. The low, muffled voices of two men talking to each other. Their words are soft and indistinguishable. A third voice. It's coming from the radio. A weather report from some local late night DJ who is clinging to whatever shred of a dream he had left before life gave him a reality check. Spinning songs he hates to the nocturnal crowd and men with bad intentions.
My fingers clawed at the rope, nails splintering against the stubborn knots. The gag felt like a fist in my throat. My heart thundered like a caged animal battering against my ribs. I've got to get the fuck out of here.
What can you taste?I thought to myself running through the checklist. Iron and blood. My blood. The gag - some desperate collision of oil and regret lying dormant on my tongue, draining down my parched throat.
What can you touch?Nothing. My hands are bound and tied to my waist. Rolling isn't an option. I'll just get stuck. I'm so fucked.
Scenario after scenario racing through my head. What could've gotten me here? Who is driving? Who are they driving for? What is this? Some half-forgotten gambling debt? Someone from Holly's family wanting revenge? Is this about my Revolution? Some three letter agency trying to shut it down before it gets off the ground?
Think Matthias. Think.
And you'd better do it quickly because the car is slowing down.
And then - silence.
Why did the engine stop? I wondered trying to focus through the cacophony of sound.
The gun fired once, a quiet thump piercing through the driver's side window. The driver's head landed on the horn. I could hear the passenger scrambling with the gun he had holstered. Too late, a second shot, as quiet as the first.
Whoever this was, was alone and was very good at what they do. Unhurried. Slow. Deliberate.
He popped the trunk. Footsteps approached. Boots crunching in the gravel. Fuck, this is it. The trunk slowly creaked open. A silhouette loomed over me. A man or maybe a shadow wearing a man's skin. He never said a word as he cut me loose. Jumping out of the makeshift grave I was just in, I peered with carousel eyes through the wet, dark void.
You???
To Be Continued
I am not your fucking hero. I am not your fucking role model. I feel like I need to get that out in the open. I need to make that abundantly clear. I like to hurt people. My brand is violence and chaos. I'm not here to make friends or even acquaintances. If you try that shit in this business, you'll just end up with an elbow in your eye socket and a mouthful of broken teeth.
I'm not here for the social media thirst trap life that Summer Page lives for, while simultaneously telling herself that she can ascend to heights that are truly beyond her. I respect you, Summer. You've earned that after being in the ring with me twice now. But it doesn't change the fact that you're a bubble gum girl with a bubble gum brain. You've never had to struggle for anything in your life.
Until you met me.
Until you shed that skin, you'll always be exactly where you should be, being scraped from the bottom of my boot.
I'm the longest reigning Revolution Champion in this company's history. I'm the longest reigning champion of any kind in the XWF. While the rest of this company was playing hot potato with the other titles, this belt hasn't left my shoulder.
I put heads on pikes. I liberate necks from spines. While the majority of this company are benedryl in human form. Looking at you, Roger. You're unassuming, you're cunning and you're smart. I'll give you that. Ever the opportunistic. Much like myself. You do it without the bravado and the charisma but I'll give you that. You beat me with my own move at WarGames. It'll never happen again. I overlooked you. That was my mistake and the last one I'll ever make.
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