04-28-2026, 10:15 PM
“There’s a voice inside. Another me. I’ve been neglecting him and his needs. There was a version of me, before the isolation, before the small family I had, a man who helped people. A man of honor. He’s eating away at me, begging to be unleashed. As much as I have denied myself the carnal desires of the flesh in taking on this moniker and mask, there is another mask entirely I’ve been ignoring. Sooner or later, it’s going to bubble up and boil and spill over the edges of my being. It is inevitable.”
XXXVI sits on the edge of the bay bridge, overlooking the water. It reminded him of the oceans of his youth. Water always calmed him. His mother joked that he was half fish the way he loved to be in water at any opportunity.
“As much as I can feel the old me wanting to break through, she also desires this. I have made strides to let Cierra in. She knows my name. She knew his name before he revealed it to the world. Jordan. The Director. He brought us together, first as colleagues, as pawns in his little game. At some point it shifted. There is a certain kinship between us. We two remain, apart from him and his whole army of robots. It makes me wonder. I can’t be the only one with secrets. Cierra seems to recall very little about her past. Is it PTSD…or something darker?”
He looks out over the water. It grounds him. “So many come here as a last resort. Life dealt them a hand that they could no longer handle. Many choose a spot like this to jump. Some survive, but they are never the same again. In my youth, I was baptized in water. It was a symbol of faith and rebirth. Upon reflection in adulthood, I find it cruel to tell children that a stranger died because they are awful and that they must choose to follow him because a book told them to and the consequence is an eternity of suffering. Yet so many do this. I come here to reflect. I have become a stranger to my home land and to myself. My name no longer carries meaning. I became a weapon. His weapon. But then I found a new me. I embodied the revolution. I am proud of the work I’ve done and my time as champion. But that work is not finished yet. There will come a day when I too shed my skin and live in the light, but now is not the time. The sigil, the mask, the Roman Numerals, they are but tools for me to become the best version of myself, to realize my potential.”
“Jenny Myst will mock me and my pageantry. Yet she is a woman who carries around a doll and a plush sea creature and she calls them her friends. She surrounds herself with men like Jordan Penn, who promised her tag team glory and then left her behind the moment he got an opportunity. Charlie Nickles, who allowed his guilt over his sister’s condition to cloud everything and blamed the Exiles. A man without any scruples. I helped Solomon Kline fight the Bastards because I needed to. I needed to take a stand against Jordan, consequences be damned. He still claims to have power over me. He takes credit for all my successes. Perhaps there is some truth to it. I became more ruthless under his direction. I became a champion. Twice. This is my chance to show that I can do this on my own. My revolution doesn’t end because I lost a title. It ends when the work is finished and I’m just getting started.”
Off to his left, about forty feet away, he observes an overweight, balding man, who looks to be about fifty, standing at the edge of the bridge and teetering. He wears a suit and tie and he’s taking off his shoes. XXXVI rises instinctually.
The man doesn’t notice him at first as he cautiously and slowly approaches. The man removes his socks and places them inside his shoes next to him. XXXVI slinks closer as the man removes his watch and places it inside a shoe. By the time he notices XXXVI, he is just a few feet away. The man is startled.
“I…what are you doing here?” Asks the man.
“Reflecting. Now I could ask you the same thing.” Answers XXXVI.
The man looks at XXXVI, confused. “None of your business. What are you, here with the circus or something? What with the face paint and the mask?”
“I know. Quite silly, right? I’m actually a professional wrestler. But I’m also someone who has been through a lot. I’ve thought about ending things many times. Never quite succeeded though.”
“I see that. Well, it’s a long way down, but she left me. She was everything. I can’t start over again!”
“You can! Come join the circus with me!” Says XXXVI in an attempt to lighten the mood.
The man rolls his eyes. “Jokes. You’ve got jokes.”
“Right. Sorry. Likely nothing I say will convince you not to jump. I can’t tell you definitively it gets better, but I can tell you that it’s worth trying. I wear this mask, sure, but I’m willing to listen. I can lose the mask and we can go get some coffee. I’ll be an ear. Give you time to think. What do you say?”
He shakes his head and leaps. XXXVI leaps too. He grabs on to the ledge and the man’s hand with his other. He musters the strength to pull him up onto the bridge. The man, still in shock, helps XXXVI back up as news cameras swarm them. A blonde reporter approaches, microphone in hand. Passersby shout. “He’s a hero!” He’s crazy!” “He’s got a death wish!”
XXXVI clocks that last one as she asks his name. “Death Wish.” He answers. “Call me Death Wish.”
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