|Wednesday, August 29th, 2001|
{Gaines could never remember taking the drugs in the first place. If he could have, then he would probably never be able to remember everything that happened inside of that wrestling ring each and every night so easily. Images of the last match flowing vividly through his bruised and bashed skull. Like moving a finger, Marcus could instantly bring up the reminder of Johnny Storm brutally thrusting a kick straight up into Marcus' ribcage, and sending the fight to the outside of the ring. Like taking in oxygen, he could immediately review Sebastian Bock's fist, hurtling towards his face, set to knock a dent into his head, only to realize what he could have done to prevent it.
Hours were spent that night, just sitting on his locker room bench, watching the entire match over and over again in his head, until it was etched into his psyche. It was his way of ensuring that the mistakes he made in that match would never be made again as long as he could help it. Floating over the ring in the way only one's mind can, he could see exactly why Sebastian Bock was able to avoid his swan-dive into the crowd, and made notes. If he could make enough corrections of his flaws, that Gladiator title was as good as his. The foolishness of the mistakes he had made in the past haunted him as he thought it over. The last time he had a shot at the Gladiator title was no more than half a year prior to now, a Gladiator title tournament Marcus had blown through to find that before he could compete in the final match for the title, he had been put in jail. But now those circumstances could be called into question. Then, in his mind, Debra was as real as anything and she was the one that manipulating events, and caused Gaines to end up in prison. Now, Debra is realized to be nothing more than a figment of his imagination. What happened back then to cause Marcus to let this chance fall through his fingers?
Knowing what he does at this moment, the only thing Marcus can truly wonder on, is why did Marcus do what he did back then? Had Marcus simply balked at success, been afraid of it enough to incarcerate himself? All answers seemed to come up with only that for an explanation. Marcus had been so scared of the success he would earn for himself that he had himself put out of contention. Seemed logical enough, so he'd just go with that as the reasoning behind the utter stupidity of his condition.
Recent revelations left Marcus feeling out of place, light headed, and drowsy. Debra was truly nothing to him, just something he had left behind when he didn't need it anymore. Maybe Debra was that little stoppage in Marcus that caused him to truly hit gold in his token calling career. Debra had been there, every time Marcus had the opportunity to go somewhere, but each time, "she" found some way of diluting his mind to focus solely on her and his dealings with her. Maybe the last few months, when Gaines simply couldn't remember where he had been or what he had experience was just the time his psyche needed to purge itself of something as cancerous as Debra was. The only question Marcus had to ask was: Would something spring up this time around to foil his true hopes? Would that Gladiator title find some way of eluding him yet again simply because of himself?}
|Saturday, September 6th, 2001|
[Finally, making the trip to Toronto for the Pay Per View Marcus found his hotel, and checked in. A strange feeling entered him, as he walked up the stairwell to reach his room; The feeling of something old meeting with something new, something he had once felt, something he had once experienced all seemed to hit him like a blast of cold air in the face. The bell boy glanced back at him cautiously, as Marcus simply looked disjointedly around himself at the hotel's corridors.]
[The large wooden doors of the hotel seemed impressive, towering higher than normal doors, more imposing in some way that seemed to threaten Marcus as they walked down the hall towards his room. Marcus reached the door first, and reached for the door handle only to be greet by a strange face-shaped doorknob. The bellboy caught Gaines' disarmed look as he reached for the door handle and let out a low chuckle. Gaines quickly glanced up at him, causing him to stifle his laugh as well as he could.]
Bellboy: The hotel was designed a long time ago and was just built a year or two ago. So if it has that Victorian sort of feel, you should understand that much.
[Gaines gave a half smile, and went to put the lock into the handle. But as he looked down on it the face that had greeted him before, had changed. The snarling face of something he couldn't familiarize enough to recognize. It was a face that chilled Marcus to the bone, causing him to recoil in fright at the mere sight of it. Gaines looked at the Bellboy, surprise riddling his face.]
Gaines: Did you see that?
Bellboy: [Looking
confusedly at Marcus.] See
what, sir?
[Marcus looked from the bellboy back to the doorknob and back again, trying to gauge what exactly he had just seen? Was this actually happening? Or was this just another one of Marcus' frequent trips through his own mind. Marcus stared at the doorknob for a while, trying to get over his nerves but the face on the doorknob had deeply disturbed him.]
Gaines: Oh, it was probably nothing.
[Marcus stared awkwardly at the door handle for a moment.]
Gaines: Er, um could you open it?
[The bellboy looked at Marcus for a second with a funny look on his face. Then conceded and unlocked the door, having no hesitation or trouble at the doorknob whatsoever. He pushed the door open and made way for Marcus to enter. Gaines stood at the foot of the door peering in, half expecting to see something around the corner, or something move out of the corner of his eye; But he didn't. The Bellboy could only look at him in disbelief as he awkwardly stepped past the bellboy and into the room, cautiously glancing around to see if anything caught his eye. Marcus paced through the enormous room, examining the objects scattered throughout the room, when he heard the door shut; Rushing over he saw the bellboy had placed his bag down and left, probably figuring a tip wouldn't be forthcoming.
Marcus wasn't normally an on-edge guy, but the doorknob had startled him. And to make sure he was safe, Marcus checked every room twice, ensuring his safety for the remaining evening. Finally satisfied, Marcus sat down in front of the television, and ordered a pizza from room service. Hours passed and eventually he fell asleep, the pizza helping him fall away felt good in his stomach.]
[Time had passed when he woke to the heightened smell of a familiar aroma drifted through the air. The sound of the doorbell startled him further, and he sat up in the chair. He looked dismayed as the doorbell continuously rang; He got up and uneasily edged towards the door. The candlelit lamps used to decorate the room cast shadows that danced against the wall and scattered on the floor, as Marcus's shadow broke through the trance. With the door finally opened, Marcus peered out the door to find nothing but the hall. Marcus turned to be shocked by the sight of a familiar figure standing in front of his chair. ]
[Her head and face ever changing, just as always. She smiled as she walked towards him.]
Angela Landsbury: Hello, dear. Miss me, Marcus?
Gaines: Well it's only been a few days.
Angela Landsbury: That's nothing to me, Marcus. For all I care it could have been an hour since we last spoke.
Gaines: Yeah, and now I'm as f*cked up now as I was then, if not more so. Why are you here this time, got anymore bombs you want to drop on me before I have to fighting in the biggest match of my career?
[Oddly enough, she stood and considered for a while.]
Angela Landsbury: Marcus, I'm not here to hinder you. I'm here to help you.
Gaines: The only thing you've helped me with so far is by giving me too many things to think about before I head into a match. It's a wonder I've made it as far as I have considering.
[Abruptly her hand met Marcus' face stunning him further.]
Angela Landsbury: Marcus I'm appalled at you. I never want to hear you say that again or I'll make you wash that filthy mouth of yours out with soap.
[Marcus blinked dimly as he rubbed his cheek.]
Gaines: Listen, how do I know all of THIS is real? For all I know you could just be a bout with indigestion. You could easily be an undigested pepperoni, or a small bit of cheese.
[She raised her eyebrows as if to make note of the fact that she had in fact just slapped him.]
Gaines: Okay, good point.
Angela Landsbury: Well none of this IS real in the sense that you and I are talking in your hotel room right now. It's too complicated and would take hours out of the little time we've already allowed ourselves for this evening.
Gaines: Why? What am I in for?
Angela Landsbury: Marcus, tonight you are going to be visited three spirits this evening.
[Marcus sighed loudly.]
Gaines: Where does all this stuff get me to?! How is this going to help me in any way? It's all going to hinder my chances on that belt.
Angela Landsbury: This is going to fix you, Marcus. You know all of those times when you'd do something bad, and your father or mother would smack you or get your attention in some way and say "Smarten Up"? Well this is that moment, Marcus. And hopefully after seeing what the spirits have to show you tonight, you'll actually do it.
Gaines: Well, see. If you're going to tell me I'm going to be visited by ghosts, then there's no chance in hell I'm going to just doze off in the old chesterfield. This is something I'm going to want to see.
[Angela merely nodded, and made her way to the door while Marcus followed closely after.]
Angela Landsbury: You'll see it all right. Don't worry though, you'll sleep. Expect the first spirit when the clock strikes one, Marcus.
[The door quickly shut after Angela immediately after she had left.]
--------------------------
[Marcus awoke in the chair he had fallen asleep in, the television blaring loudly, GWA related of course. Marcus scanned the room; No doors opened, nothing amiss, no Angela Landsbury.]
Gaines: What the hell?!
[Marcus felt like he could easily pass this off for a dream. How long ago could he remember the night so vividly as he could now? And it hadn't been a long time since he could remember waking up after having a dream. He shrugged it off, his mind fully convinced; He staggered off to his hotel bed, making quick note of the clock: 10:57]