It was a gift.

“What are we going to have to do to ensure that he receives the message this time…?”

The question from Wraith resonates within the confines of Sabin’s mind. Sabin sits sideways on a chair at the dining table, with one arm on the table, and the other on the backrest; his gaze fixates to the opposite end of the dining table, as if he were looking at someone sitting there… to the world around him, it would appear as if he were doing nothing more than zoning out, but from his own perspective, he could see the typical being that was ever-present with him within the void. The ever-present being that took possession of his body every time they would enter the ring. Wraith. Wraith hunches forward, using one of their hands as a headrest, and their other hand taps against the oak surface. They trace their finger across their lips, and cocks their head to the side in a pondering manner.

“We were–” Wraith snarls, “–merciful the last time that we went into the ring with him. We gave him a chance to walk away with his life by ending the match with a knee! But he did not take the message, did he? He did not accept that he was in over his head… He remains– hopeful. He remains– confident. He remains– DELUSIONAL!” Wraith’s tone rises at the last word, and they chuckle under their breath afterward. Sabin remains stoic, but listening to what Wraith has to say.

“Hopeful, confident, and delusional in the idea that he thinks that he can defeat us in the middle of the ring, but does he not remember how things ended the last time that I was in the ring with him? We barely broke a sweat. I have to be honest in saying that I was not satisfied with what they brought to me in the ring! I was not SATISFIED in their futile attempt to share the ring with us… I was DISAPPOINTED. I wanted more blood. I wanted more of a fight. I wanted just more– time… I wanted the time to be able to pick him apart in a way that he would know that he was not able to stand a chance! I wanted him to fight harder than he has ever fought in his life! I wanted him to make me feel SOMETHING! I wanted to feel– pain. I wanted a test. I wanted just– anything…more! But he brought everything– he brought everything, and it was a goddamn MASSACRE! But he remains hopeful? He remains confident? And delusional!” Wraith scoffs.

They then bite down on their bottom lip, and shake their head discerningly as if El Landerson were standing right in front of them. The glare did not resonate with pity, though, for knowing what they wanted to do to their opponent this time around… They had no pity for El Landerson. They knew all too well that El Landeron, much like the last time they were in the ring, was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

“Mercy, Sabin,” Wraith mutters, and licks their lips a second time, “Mercy was a GIFT that we had given him. Mercy was a CHANCE that we gave to him, and this is how he responds? HOW DOES HE THANK US? By going to management and insisting– begging– PLEADING for a second chance to be in the ring with us? By insisting that he can defeat us?! But is that not what he told the world the last time? Did he not say that he was going to defeat us? Did he not claim that he is going to earn a chance at the Excellence Championship…?” Wraith takes a deep breath, and lets out a disgruntled sigh.

“Does he not understand that we are firing for those same things? I said that we would become the Excellence Champion, and NOTHING HAS CHANGED! We have been…delayed…is all. We have been delayed from going after the Impulse Championship. We have been delayed from the Excellence Championship, and do you want to know something?” Wraith scrunches their face up in a nonchalant manner, and shrugs their shoulders, “That is alright. That is alright, because we LOVE the competition! We LOVE what all of these people are able to bring to the table. It means more people for us to hurt. It means more people that we are going to go through before the inevitable happens… before… we take the titles that we are after. Mercy was our gift for El Landerson! The Luchador! Mercy is not on the table this time around.” Wraith cocks their head to the side, and leans closer in toward Sabin, staring across the table at him with the red irises giving a faint glow whilst tilting their head slowly from one side to the other, “It was our intention on TAPPING HIM OUT last time he stepped into OUR RING, and this time, THAT IS HOW IT IS GOING TO BE! He is going to accept that so long as I am here… so long as WE ARE HERE; he is NEVER going to capture the Excellence Championship. We are going to be there to stop him at every end, and should the day come that he comes close to getting a title shot… we are going to break him… we are going to remind him that he is not in our league! We are going to crush his spirit, and then we are going to lift him up, just to tear it apart further! The only thing that he is going to know when he steps into the ring with us…is pain…is suffering…is the reminder that he is nothing more than a failure. He cannot take that title, because it will be ours. It is merely a matter of time.”

Wraith chatters their teeth several times, “El Landerson– you are just the fly…around us… you are no threat. You are not competition. You are a waste of my time, and come Victory: I will ensure you understand it.”

The statement lingers for several seconds until the sound of giggling can be heard. The sound startles Sabin, and he snaps back to attention whilst looking toward a section of the room that is sectioned off; Mikaela Jade, Sabin’s daughter, and Lilith Ophelia, Sabin’s baby sister, are laying on their tummies while looking at one another. One squeals, which causes the other to giggle, and then the other squeals and the other giggles. They turn their heads in unison toward Sabin for only a brief moment before going back to squealing at each other.

Sabin’s phone vibrates against the oak table, and he lets it sit for a moment before picking it up. He swipes to check his messages, and after reading it quickly, he begins to type in a reply…

“What’s all that noise?” Tara’s voice is heard coming toward them, and she walks into the kitchen. Sabin turns his phone off quickly, and places it face down on the table; Tara looks toward him; she notices the swift movement that Sabin had made, and figures him to be hiding something, “What’s that about?” she inquires.

Sabin sighs, “It’s nothing,” he answers, but he knows that look on her face, and he gives her an answer, “It’s just– Adi. Adi is asking if I can hang out tonight.”

Tara’s gaze remains fixed on her son for a little bit longer; a silent battle that would see him break, if it were not for an even louder squeal from both of the toddlers simultaneously.

“What are you two doing?” Tara asks in a playful voice, mocking in a baby tone at them, and she leans down to pick up Lilith, and turns her attention back to her eldest child, Sabin, “I am going to be taking Lilith with me to Glasgow. Are you going to be okay for the weekend? You have your own match that you have to get ready for… I should be back in time, if you want me to go with you…”

“There’s no need,” Sabin answers nonchalantly, “I have traveled on my own. Is Dad going to be home to watch Mikaela?”

“Hayleigh will be here… Dean, Warren, and yes, Angel will be here. They should all be fine to watch her if you need. I would bring her with, but–”

“It’s okay, Mother. You are going to have your hands full with Lilith, and getting ready for this tag match… Umm,” Sabin stands up, and takes another peek at his phone, but quickly tucks it back into his pocket, “Good luck over there. Give Grandpa and Grandma my love,” Sabin walks by his mother, giving her a peck on the cheek.

She rocks Lilith gently in her arms but keeps watching Sabin for a moment, wondering what he’s hiding.