002
toxic love.
“When you notice someone does something toxic the first time, don't wait for the second time before you address it or cut them off."
━━ ♠ ━━
Dear Robin,
I have done it again.
I, Damian Cameron Lutece, stood in the full light of the heavens with holy gold in my possession. It didn’t matter that I didn’t get the chance to completely test my wife’s progression. It didn’t matter that Kayla Richards played a role in my accomplishment. The new weight in my hands was all that I needed to silence anxieties trying to reach into my mind. Nothing would curb my happiness, for I was the one. I was the Pro Wrestling Excellence Champion, and anyone else had to catch up to me.
Not even a full show later, I see stirrings of trying to get other accomplished names from other places to come to my company. It’s an exact repeat of what happened in PWA except I haven’t dominated the entire roster just yet. Professional wrestling is a business first, a telenovela second, and a sport last. Surely, Ophelia Knight doesn’t run the social media account, so it’s safe to simply say that it was LeMao being idiotic. He doesn’t realize that he disrespected his boss’s words with his pandering.
She was content with who signed to the roster, gracious, and accepting of who became her champion. She truly seems devoted to wrestling and its culture. If that’s the case, then she won’t fall for the same pitfalls as so many before her. When you have cysts on your roster like Betsy Granger, you should expect the disease to fester. More will come because they’re aligned with Granger. James Raven’s one of them. I wouldn’t be surprised if Shawn Warstein or Dickie Watson came over. The close proximity to other companies makes Pro Wrestling Excellence seem like a fresh, hunting ground.
Yet, if any of them come, any of these “established names”, they’ll find that the harvest is bountiful but they’ll never be at the top of the food chain. They can be lions. They can be dragons. But there’s the worst kind of monster patrolling the grounds. Damian Ayla is only human, but he has survived and destroyed worse than anything they can bring to my feet.
As I held the championship close to my chest, I remembered why I decided to follow the family tradition. That memory was further reinforced when I walked through the backstage corridors. I stood past the curtain and I didn’t hear a single clap. The only adoration I received was from my wife, who smiled at me, knowing very well what the outcome was going to be. But everyone else? I failed to see their faces…because they were hung too low.
Yes, it’s the silence of failure that makes me smile.
I could smell the disappointment and frustration in the air. The younglings thought their juvenile bravado made them special enough to win. The experienced thought they had seen it all and knew how to approach the event. And the famous thought name-value translated to immediate success. They were all wrong and it was as I said, they lacked the focus necessary to conquer this company. By the next show, I will demonstrate that no one, except perhaps Tara, has the strength to conquer me.
I want people to bring everything they have and offer it to me. So I can prove to them that their best just wasn’t good enough. I want people to hate me and find strength in that. When they come at me and die trying to stop me. I want people to figure out every tactic they can to try to beat me. When they wake up, they can go back and figure out where they failed in their logic.
I want outsiders to force their way in, thinking they’ll be the one. So I can send them back to their other places. I want to make them tell the story of the quiet, bloodthirsty monster lurking in a small company called Pro Wrestling Excellence.
Oh…I hate this sport and the diseased rats that pollute it, but I enjoy how I can make them crawl and dance.
I am Damian Ayla, and I love what I do.
You should come visit sometimes. See what you helped create. I’m sure you will enjoy it.
Sincerely,
Damian Ayla━━ ♠ ━━
“Take a moment to put yourself in my position come Victory II. Don't be afraid. It may be the only time that many of you can imagine being the Excellence Champion after all.”The baritone voice of Damian Ayla cascaded throughout the audio feed, leading to the introduction of the Pro Wrestling Excellence Championship. Standing in the full bloom of light, its gold glistened alluringly, begging for someone to take it. A person did, and they were the current possessor of the only claimed championship in Pro Wrestling Excellence. Contrasting the glittering material, Damian Ayla’s dark attire ranged into professional. He wasn’t wearing anything to work in, instead, he wore a full black suit, devoid of any other shades or hues. The striking difference made the championship stand out more, especially with his name etched onto it. Comfortable with its weight, Damian fastened the belt around his waist.
Yet, it was the environment that remained a mystery as Damian readied to speak. The light that blessed the championship came from a lighting fixture. Before the camera operator, personally hired by the Ayla’s, could move back, Damian gave the camera a stern glare. The act inspired the operator to stay in place. After securing that, Damian adjusted his tie and put his arms behind his back.
“Of course, I’m in the main event. I’m the premier champion of this company. The first thing that anyone sees when they tune into this show. No matter what Betsy Granger does, no matter what nonsense Kayla Richards spew, or how popular any hero like Xaria Linette or Zoey Madigan-Star is, I am the focal point. On this second Victory, it’s my responsibility to paint the picture of what’s going to be the standard for this show.”“I believed that Ms. Knight and Ms. Jones would have made me fight on my own. To my surprise and joy, Tara was put alongside me. Therefore, we were allowed to establish our particular brand of dominance early on. By metrics, there aren’t many people that can stand against us together, correct? I came out of the first Victory as the champion, so there’s that. And while I didn’t get the chance to face Tara, she proved to be a force to be reckoned with on her own.” The fact elicited a smile from the normally cold man. His wife’s performance didn’t disappoint him. Yet, the joy faded shortly after its appearance.
“As a team, we share more experience together than many tag teams on the market. If our singles prowess is already established separately, then what happens when you combine them together? You get the most dangerous force in the entirety of our company. Ophelia Knight and Charlie Jones have mandated a slaughterhouse for anybody that comes in contact with us.”“And…then they put the other couple in front of us,” Damian’s subdued excitement died out at the first mention of he and his wife’s opponents.
“I can see the reasoning behind it. As it stands, Tara and I have only Ross Hanson and Chelsea Skye as contemporaries when it comes to wrestling couples. Sadly, Sierra Williams couldn’t pay a visit to team with Lachlan Kane. Zoey couldn’t pull Katalina from their perverted cesspool. Though, I would have been more privy to finding out if Kayla and Billy are actually a unit.”A microcosm of fury lied underneath Damian’s scowl, which he restrained by pulling his suit jacket straight.
“Just so I could rip him apart for how she tainted my title victory,” the champion hissed.
He swallowed his rage and pressed on.
“So if the theme is supposed to be couple versus couple, I suppose it has to be those two. But really, that’s the only reason why they get the chance to share a ring with my wife and me. Truly, this could have been a standard affair too. I, at the least, didn’t have that much knowledge of who either of them was as individuals. I knew that they were coming to compete for the Excellence Championship. I knew very minor details about their lives and who they were as people. If everything stayed on course, Tara and I would simply beat them and move on with our lives.”“However, the easy prey brought attention onto themselves, thinking that the monsters wouldn’t seek them out.”Damian pushed forward, pushing open two large wooden doors. The creaking from which chased after the sight of a darkened cathedral. From behind the choir pews, Damian stepped down towards a podium. There, he reached out and picked up the only thing enveloped by the light. The champion pulled up the Savage Gospel, his mandate of violence, and rested it over his heart.
“Chelsea Syke, correct?” he tilted his head,
“you’re young in age, mind, and experience, so I feel a hint of sympathy towards your situation. You’re new to the business, not at all tainted by the viciousness of the world. Your nickname reeks of naivety. And your focus has waned already. Ross must be your first serious relationship, and it’s a shame. Not necessarily of who Ross is, but because of the stress it will face come Victory II. Through that, you will begin to watch how your relationship unravels.”“It begins with blissful ignorance. You may not say it, but you’re in love with Ross. There’s something about his jokes and his mullet. You go onto social media and you spew out anything that reminds people of how fun your relationship is. That’s without realizing that you have to share Ross with your career. And with that single thought, the perverted Twitter banter begins to lose its luster.”“You come to Victory II, beaming with optimism. Just maybe your love for Ross will provide you with the strength to rival the monolithic Ayla’s. You remember how Tara threw you out of the ring at Victory I, ending your dreams early in the night. That damages that brightness in your mind. Insecurities begin to sprout. How can you manage to beat the champion and his terrifying wife? Ross assures you that you two will win, no matter what. You share a kiss and go to get ready. If you’re alone, those anxieties begin to come up, but there’s still the one hopeful thought.”Damian raised a single finger, representing that one thought.
“If you win, you change the narrative of Pro Wrestling Excellence. The champion and his wife aren’t the scary monsters and the Nightmare Angel proved that. Either you or Ross can start to work together to get a chance to dethrone the Excellence Champion.”
“But then you lose,” the air in the room flushed away.
“Not just that, but you get hurt. You were expecting to lose, but you weren’t expecting to have to stay in the hospital. While you were getting beaten down, you began to realize that the Ayla’s weren’t just fighting you. They were ripping you apart. You swallowed more of your own blood than you thought possible. Your bones ache every time you walk. You can barely do anything without memories of the horrible night coming back. And you wonder why the Ayla’s attacked you with such spite and anger. You didn’t do anything to them, right?”Damian walked forward and took a seat on the altar steps. As he looked around him, he saw the ornate stained glass and marveled at its splendor.
“And then you come back to this video because I’m going to tell you the reason here.” “I understand that the anticipation is killing you, Chelsea, but first I’m going to clear up the biggest false idea. It’s not because of who you are. Your life story, your sexuality, none of those things pertain to how you are as a competitor. Because you’re not the only one out there with the same sob story—I’ve faced them and I put them down without a second thought. Your story isn’t special. Your sex life isn’t your personality, it’s your entire life. I sometimes forget you’re a professional wrestler.”“It’s disrespectful that I’m forced to share a ring with you. Despite that, it’s not motivating me to cut your career short. No, ironically, Tara and I are going to hurt you because of the man you’re infatuated with.”
“In the SAVAGE GOSPEL, there is a verse about love,” the Godslaying Beast stated, opening up the macabre book in his grasp. He turned to a certain page without needing to search too hard.
“Love is sometimes a venom.”“Ross Hanson is a venom that will continue to poison you until there’s nothing left of you and you’ll learn that through this match.” With a resounding clap, the
SAVAGE GOSPEL was closed. Damian stood up and made his way towards the exit.
“I can only assume that makes you upset, Ross. I’m blaming you for any harm that comes your lover’s way.”“Though if you look hard enough, you can put together why it’s your fault. We’ll start with your incessant Twitter nonsense. I don’t normally tune into social media. I’m busy raising my kids, loving my wife, and taking care of my dogs. But as the champion, I can’t walk into a match without any knowledge of current events. And with that, I had to look into what you spewed out constantly," the champion bit the inside of his cheek.
“The disrespect you have towards this opportunity is apparent. You have a whole poll about if you and Chelsea should have sex before our match—like it would change the outcome. Every time that you spoke in regards to this match, I felt agitated because I felt that you didn’t deserve the spot and came to find out that you didn’t either.”Damian drew his fingers along the church pews, taking away the dust that had settled there.
“When I decided to take you seriously as an annoyance, a tumor to be excised, I went back to listen to your words before your blunder at Victory I. Come to find out that you’re the worst kind of thing.”The champion paused, his scowl deepening where every wrinkle came to the visible surface.
“You’re a leech, Ross Hanson, siphoning life out of anyone you're attached to.”His words were drenched with poison.
“First and foremost, it’s at the expense of Graham Clauson. Sure, you said that you weren’t going to dedicate your efforts to them. If I was them, I would be happy. To know that a failure like you would go out and lose in, what did you say, 45 seconds?” Damian scoffed, recalling Ross's recent OCW video.
“But you hark on about how Clauson almost fell to the stress and say you’re not fighting for them, but what does that do for everybody else? It sounds awful like you were using Graham to build some sympathy for yourself. You’re a deadbeat that uses tragedy for clout. And you expect me to recognize you as anything but a fucking blight.”The Godslaying Beast continued onward to the doors. He shoved them open, to which a litany of cheering voices awaited him. The camera operator didn’t reveal them. Damian seemed to be content with what was before him. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear before he turned back to the camera.
“You also want to talk about loyalty. Fine, you can be loyal to your friends, but that’s only because they gave you everything. You couldn’t make it two steps without those people. Thaddeus and Ian don’t have to be supportive, really, because you’re naturally codependent. You’re the same with Chelsea. If it wasn’t for any of those people, you would be regulated to being what you called yourself…enhancement talent with no future to wonder about.”“And no sort of pep talk in the mirror can change that. You’re not going to magically become Superman and your God’s shorthanded on miracles for the likes of you. So, I’m going to do you a service. I’m going to put this grit and determination of yours to the curb. I’m going to stomp it out and sign your walking papers. Because now that I’m champion, it’s also my responsibility to cull people that don’t fit any of the principles of this company. Ophelia Knight didn’t call for a man that openly says that his loyalty falls with another company.”Damian stepped out into the light, where a mass congregation had come to see him.
“So, I’m going to ask you to go back to OCW and scream about your loyalty there. Because you don’t belong here and I bet Chelsea’s going to chase after you because that’s all she’s good for too. Don’t try to hate me for this. Victory II is all about consequences after all,” the small beat of humor from Damian didn’t come with a smile.
“You’re going to face that when you come out for the main event.”“After that, though, I’m going to need you two to get the fuck out of my company. None of you are needed here anymore.”━━ ♠ ━━
A WEEK BEFORE THE SECOND VICTORY
LOCATION: SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, USA - DR. BROWN'S OFFICE
“There is nothing wrong with my wife.”
“Cameron— It’s imprudent to ignore everything going on with her. She is going to get worse! Inviting in that carnivorous viciousness is not a healthy outlet for her. There is no limit once she begins to open those gates again. If we encourage that then we are accepting what sins might be committed. Have you prepared yourself for that? Have you prepared the children for that?”
He brought her flowers, which on next sight was Oleander. a strikingly beautiful plant. Yet, it was poisonous, so much that a single taste of it could prove fatal. To Dr. Brown, the gesture that Damian Lutece made was a gorgeous threat. Its words sung profoundly in her brilliant mind and stirred her stomach in an unpleasant frenzy.
“You’re not safe.”
The last time that they shared a room, the husband of her former patient, Tara Dola (now Tara Lutece), said one sentence. During the time of her pleading with him, she noted how his eyes operated. They never lie about the inner workings of a person. Tara had only mentioned Damian (or Cameron, as she called him by his middle name) in positive ways. He was devoted, doting, and ultimately a pleasant person to be around. She was overjoyed when she was pregnant with their first children. Dr, Brown never had the chance to meet him, but when she did, it was his eyes that struck her first.
Amidst the scowl, the stress lines, and the thin scars, Damian Lutece’s eyes corresponded with something cosmically unsettling. Dr. Brown couldn’t exactly put her finger on what, as she wasn’t his therapist. She was simply a concerned individual, worried that someone she had once treated was going down the wrong path. The fact was upsetting since Tara had shown so much promise in her recovery. And Dr. Brown had originally put blame on Damian, only to discover that it was the mechanisms of Tara’s mind that were leading her away from passivity. Damian Lutece wasn’t the cause nor the architect. He was the shepherd, tending to Tara’s growing necessity for violence. And his eyes reflected that of a man with little concern for anything—the opening sight of a sociopath.
Ultimately, it was a shock for him to visit her office again. To bring her flowers. As he sat down in the seat across from her, Dr. Brown let out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t think you would come to my office again,” she said, blending creamer into her coffee. “I was afraid that I offended you with my comments last time.”
“Why should you apologize?” Damian asked, eyeing the armrest of the chair. He was casually inspecting the material when he replied. “You were passionate about what you said, so why recant now?”
The words themselves were aggressive, confrontational, even if his voice barely held any emotion. The bass in his voice helped mute any potential anger. It even complimented his attire, dressing as if he was going to a funeral later in the day. Dr. Brown took a sip of her coffee, something she could do passively enough to express confidence. She wasn’t going to let him dominate her in her own office.
“I’m not recanting my words. I don’t wish to make you upset, Mr. Lutece, that’s all,” she calmly fired back. She returned to the oleander, eyeing the natural detail in their petals. “I heard that you won that championship. Congratulations are in order.”
“Hm,” Damian folded his hands into one another and rested them on his lap, “thank you. Though, I wish that I got the chance to face Tara in the end.”
“Why’s that?” Dr. Brown’s curiosity piped up. Perhaps a mistake. “I wouldn’t think you’d want to fight her.”
A sardonic reply fell into the doctor’s lap. “Contrary to popular belief, a little competition between spouses can be healthy,” Damian’s scowl didn’t budge, though. He may have genuinely been trying to offer Dr. Brown information she didn’t know. Nevertheless, she offered a faint chuckle in response, not dismissive, but accepting. He was right in a way.
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t gotten into a fight in a few decades, and the last one I was in, well, it wasn’t for the sport of it,” brief flashes of a schoolyard brawl flashed in Dr. Brown’s head. Keeping some semblance of familiarity may help her here, she thought. The tension in the room softened, thanks to Damian cracking a brief, yet important grin. “I wouldn’t call me Floyd Mayweather Jr, but I think I did pretty good.”
“Don’t tell your patients that. I think people believe therapists are pacifistic by nature,” Damian expressed, also letting a chuckle escape him. “Regardless, my intention for coming here is to follow up on your last words to me.”
“About familial preparations?” Dr. Brown summarized.
“No, about the imprudence of ignorance,” Damian answered, his eyes narrowing a little. “Dr. Brown, since this isn’t a formal session at all, I need to ask you a question.”
The tension in the room wasn’t soft for any reason but it resembled concrete. Dr. Brown took another drink of her coffee; there wasn’t enough sugar in it.
“Do you think I will let Tara consume me?”
The question almost made Dr. Brown choke. It was expressed with such cadence that it removed the strangeness away. “Pardon me?” was the only way that Dr. Brown could reply.
“When I began to train Tara, I saw what you saw right away. She was timid, yes, but it wasn’t the same way that you would see out of a lamb. No, I saw it as the uncertainty that a young lion has when it’s making its first steps towards becoming what it is supposed to be.”
Dr. Brown was able to complete the statement for him. “A predator.”
Damian nodded and let his eyes rest on Dr. Brown instead of on the making of the chair or her desk. It was the first time that he had actually looked at her. “And I’ve spent my whole life protecting myself from predators,” he didn’t leave air for Dr. Brown to breathe, let alone reply, “and I’ve spent more than half of my life putting them down.”
“Are you saying that you would put down Tara if I was to use your own words?” Dr. Brown said, tilting her head.
“Of course not. My experiences tell me that Tara’s not going to come after me. And as you have gathered, I’m not going to close the gates for I helped her push them open.”
“I understand that, but I believe I can ask you why now,” the therapist said, taking a risk. The oleander told her that she was in danger, and she had to tread carefully.
The brief smile, the light chuckle, both of those did not prepare Dr. Brown for the full laugh that came from Damian. “I usually hate to answer a question with a question, but that would serve your mind better.”
The gravity of his next statement stole space in Dr. Brown's head. “Why do you think I came back to wrestling with Tara?”
Dr. Brown didn’t react, opting to let Damian give her the answer to the morbid riddle.
“Even though I won this championship, everything that I’ve done has been for her benefit.”
“It’s…all for her sake?” Dr. Brown barely stated above a whisper. She spoke mostly to herself, but let Damian hear her.
Damian stood from his seat, buttoning his suit jacket again. “And Dr. Brown, I suppose you will continue to watch her compete, yes? She'll be glad to have your support.”
Despite his back being turned, Damian’s posture appeared threatening. His body was trained for violence. In an instant, he could switch his entire being to hurt another person. His walking away was a full display of that. “I can say that in a strange way, I’m a fan,” Dr. Brown said with a weary smile. Damian laughed again, a lot more pleasant that time.
“I’m happy to hear that,” were the words that released all the tension from the room. Or at least from his side of it. Damian began to open the door and turned his head a smidge to gaze at the doctor. “This was nice. Perhaps I should come back again.”
As he closed the door behind himself, Dr. Brown noticed one final thing about Damian Lutece’s visit. It wasn’t anything about who he was, but rather what he was doing while he was within her office. To test her theory, she got up and moved around the room. She gave the room time to settle and for Damian to get far from the vicinity. After which, she mirrored his movements, the way he looked around her office. Her heart rate spiked at the conclusion she met.
Dr. Brown hoped she was imagining things.
Because it looked like Damian Lutece was studying the room in case he had to hurt her.
