Your Blood Is Mine

CASTLE CARCOSA

The Baphomet has been informed that a gift would be given, and as he awaits this gift, he stands alone in an undisclosed location known only to those he trusts to know it. Castle Carcosa, his sub-dominion that, much like Hers, is hidden in plain sight... unknown to the world around, but privately owned land- protected from the outside world.

Baphomet thinks back to Savage where Ash Quinn rose from her own ashes like the phoenix to engulf Jenny Myst's spotlight with her own reborn energy. Fondly, he swells with pride that his work has begun, and soon, the Left Hand will reign supreme over the XWF but this gift- this is a different matter all together.

Two metal doors open, piercing the darkness with unnatural hallway lighting before closing again. The sound of foot steps grow closer as a cloaked hooded figure emerges from the darkness and into the candle light at Baphomet's throne. He stands to greet this dark figure with his left hand raised, the figure lowers himself to a kneel with haste.

"Spare me the formalities..." Baphomet orders, "This gift warrants no added servitude."

"Respect is always warranted to the Baphomet," the man says, "The man who removed me from that hell hole."

"Stand, my child." Baphomet says, "Show me what you have brought."

The man stands and approaches Baphomet.

"Took a while, but it's here... it's all here." A man in the dark hood cloaks his identity as he stands before The Baphomet, an uncertain expression draped across his face.

"Present it." Baphomet demands.

The man, raises a clenched fist, twisting it as his fingers open to reveal on his flat palm a medical vial of crimson gold.

"I hope you know how much willpower it took not to skim some of it." The man smiles.

"Was it hard to come by?" The Baphomet asks, carefully pinching the small cylinder between his gloved fingers to extract from the man's offering hand.

"Not as hard as you might think." The man says, "Not as hard as the last task."

"I hadn't forgotten your... sacrifices..." Baphomet clenches the vial in his own hand, placing it deep within his inner pocket. The same inner pocket of a large coat that concealed a blow torch for Ash Quinn the previous Saturday.

"And although your original plans fell short of what was expected, the ends were of the same result thanks to our favorite thorn in the side." Baphomet says, "Furthermore, your identity was not compromised which was most important of all."

"Yeah, sure..." the man says, "I did great and all... but, they still should suffer for what they did! They didn't know I was there for other reasons... they still abandoned who they thought I was... they should pay!"

"Patience, my son." Baphomet interrupts, "There's no need to let emotions run wild... they will pay and suffer in due time, but first, we must adhere to our long game. Do you trust me?"

"Of course!" The man drops to a knee and bows his head.

"Stand..." Baphomet says, "You have proven yourself worthy of the vengeance you seek... but you must wait. If we divert from my strategy, a miscalculation could result in unfavorable circumstances... you must remain loyal to the mission... not to your own ambitions."

"Fine..." The man agrees, standing up, "so, what about her?"

"It's interesting, actually." Baphomet says, "She sent someone from your time to investigate me... A Tommy Romeo."

"I don't remember a Tommy Romeo from those days..." The man says, "I just know he is reason I almost got compromised."

"A bumbling fool..." Baphomet says, "but the idiot persists, along with his troupe of sheep; not to mention, Erin Wallace."

"Psh, That girl gets around..." The man laughs.

Baphomet feels inspiration strike him.

"Forget what I said." Baphomet says, "Perhaps your personal ambitions are exactly what our plan needs."

"How so?" The man asks, curiously.

"I have followed Scarlett and Kayros in hopes that they'd lead me to Tyler, but, "Baphomet says, "Now that you have accomplished your task in bringing me this man's blood, perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone."

"Oh??" The man strokes his chin.

"I will provide you with what is needed..." Baphomet says, "I have a new task for you... and this one, you will find personally interesting."

The man smiles, two fangs revealed as he does.

"This one..." Baphomet becomes stern, "Must be done properly... it's simply not worth losing what you have given me here... and certainly must not fail."

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" The man asks.

"You're the only one who can..." Baphomet says, "It must be done in the shadows... and right now, the opportunity is ripe."

"I sure hope it involves someone I'm mad at..." The man half jokes prompting a rare smirk from the Baphomet.

"Go now." Baphomet orders, "Return to me by week's end for what you will need to take with you."

The man nods and lifts his Left Hand. Baphomet lifts his and the man turns to walk away. Baphomet is pleased with the gift this man had given him on this day, but a thought pesters him.

"Horseman..." The Baphomet calls out to the now smaller figure in the distance, he turns back to Baphomet, "This man... he was evasive enough to thwart both The High Society and Storm Corporation for some time! How is it you made such quick work of his whereabouts?"

He sees the man's grin in the shadows.

"He sent a letter to Starr from his home address!" The man answers.

"And how is it that you acquired such letter?" Baphomet asks.

The man grins again, but this time, reapproaches Baphomet where he stands. He walks up very close and leans in, "You know who... sent me there to uh, talk to another guy about doin' him... but, when I was there... one of ours got me into the mail room to show me that... by the time I wrote down the address, the window closed on Starr... but, I walked out of there with something better... hence, why you have your blood... and why I will have my revenge."

"Fair enough." Baphomet says, "Impressive."

"I try..." The man says before turning again, "See you this weekend."

The man is gone now, leaving Baphomet in his private location, to consider his next steps of a much greater plan than could be realized by any one man or woman.

CASTLE REDEMPTION

The Baphomet arrives at the Castle where She resides in her veiled form, but his visit wouldn't entail a conversation with She. Instead, Baphomet would utilize the technology provided for him as he had previously to disrupt Anarchy with a threat to Jenny Myst, and then again on Savage to interrupt Jenny and Romeo's Shoe advertisement. This technology would then be used to threaten Atara and now, The XWF was being conditioned to open itself to The Left Hand through means of media propaganda.

As he arrives in the dark chamber, only the light from candles on an alter, he opens the suitcase which brightens his face as the built in screen awakens. On it, The Baphomet begins catching up with the promos of other wrestlers and finds Alias has a message for He and the Left Hand.

As Baphomet watches and listens to an unhinged Alias further continue to disrespect he and the order of the Left Hand, he can't help but feel pity for this purposeless being before him. He can almost see beyond the spectacle and make out a caricature of a man so far from a relevant existence that he clasps at meaning in idealism and nonconformity- but conform, he most certainly will.

There's something almost admirable about his unwillingness to accept the weight of this imposing sky that is falling to him... as he lifts his tender, flaccid arms up to somehow stop this blanket of darkness from smothering him and his peers alike. Soon his elbows will buckle under the overwhelming cover of fate. A quilt of despair that doesn't hover over him nor bend to the contours of his shoulder's but instead, crushes his fragile body into a splatter of human tissue and bones sprawled sideways between two planes.

He'd rather die a pancake with blood for syrup than to trade in his beliefs and for that, Baphomet is grateful. He appreciate his conviction, something rare in today's human, but most of all, He appreciate it because he wants the world to see that even someone with a stubborn relentlessness will fall all the same.

As Alias finishes up rambling; misunderstanding, and making a mockery of not only the Left Hand but also himself, Baphomet realizes he failed to capture the truth of what's at stake between them going into the first blood match on Warfare.

Baphomet uses the suitcase's included camera to begin recording a message back to Alias. He hits RECORD and doesn't hesitate to begin.

"You dare criticize our methods, young man?" Baphomet begins, "If a blow torch worries you, Alias, you truly aren't prepared for this era of professional wrestling. I never cared much for the sport of it, only for the bloodshed- but I assure you, a blow torch won't be necessary for our coming together when we do at Warfare."

Why does Alias believe words like Crass and Uncultured are of concern to a man of the dark, He wonders.

"The Left Hand concerns itself, not with what society deems appropriate, but what justifies the means to a predetermined end! We are the gatekeepers of those secrets, and what you consider uncultured is simply unimportant in the long term scheme of things to come. By any means necessary, our plan will succeed this time, and when it does, the truth will be undeniable for the world to accept."

Uncultured. Baphomet nearly laughs at the emptiness of such a notion.

"The very fact that you had to spend time researching how to force open human skin and release the blood from inside speaks volumes of how little you know of the dark. Surely, you've slid your angelic outer surface along the edge of a fine piece of paper when signing medical release forms, assuming you've been institutionalized. Something as simple as a papercut could teach you everything you would need to know and yet, the concept escapes you. Truly remarkable how unprepared you are for our contest but if you insist on bringing daggers, knives, or even ceremonial swords, you're only intriguing me more."

The thought of a violent death soothes the Baphomet's center of self.

"You are right about one thing, Alias." Baphomet continues, "The world IS our oyster and like the oyster, alive as it flourishes around us... shall become unsafe, and uninhabitable as the left hand snuffs the light from it. The Left Hand involved in our match, however, don't count on that, my son. You are wrong about so many things, it's no wonder you lifted a right hand instead of a left when you had the chance to join my ranks... you could be one of those that the XWF now fear will be part of my matches! Instead, you are the one fearing their presence."

Ash Quinn, Lycana, and Geri Vayden come to his mind.

"Why female, you ask." Baphomet says, "Wrong yet again. Be careful not to assume and believe only half of what you see, none of what you hear. We are legion, my dear boy, and it won't be long before you and the XWF realize that our path is defined. It seems you spend considerable time focusing your attention of mediocre points of interest... superficial aspects of individuals that mean nothing at the core essence of existence... for what, does one care of these pointless and petty arguments you make of people with such lackluster attempts to weaken their outer-shell... do you think these things penetrate the dark? No, they are meaningless! When you, one day, as we all will... lay on the Earth taking your last breath... will you ponder why The Left Hand appeared to have mostly female members? Or will you be sharing your final loving thoughts as your children cradle your fleeting soul? People... who concern themselves with such minuscule things are not whole with themselves... and if you are not whole than you haven't accepted your own shadows."

Reflect.

"But, if you must know... I am an honorable man." Baphomet says, "If it would make you feel comfortable, I will honor your worry that my "Girls" will not interfere with our match during it's duration, but it would be equivalent to Chris Chaos pledging not to begin 'training' until the week of our coming match up. We know Chaos is most likely already at the gym... working up something weeks before our destined coming together. And in spite of honor, Chaos has entered a match he knows he will lose... and thus, as he lays on this Earth, ready to take his last breath... is he thinking about the superficial championship title status? No, as he anticipates certain death, surely, he is thinking about the grim reaper."

Reflect.

"I don't care if this is your first time in the unknown, my dominion is over time and space alike. It doesn't matter if you are a lone wolf or part of a secret society, an assassin or detective, a villain or a hero. It doesn't matter if you take from the rich and give to the poor, or exercise will power like no other! The Left Hand is not a boys only club and I'm sorry if the women beside me intimidate you. Parrot you may not be, but when you finally submit, you will willingly chant our gospel... perhaps a magician would help you disappear from before me, because I'm not interested in spilling your blood as must as pulverizing you into dust but if you insist, then let our first blood match forever haunt your dreams."

What dreams may come...

"Imagine the Baphomet bending to YOUR will; imagine the Baphomet Serve the Servants. You, like the others, will fall in line and become another Scentless Apprentice with no flavor of individuality to call your own. No. You will no longer be the man you were and when your mother opens her Heart Shaped Box to find your childhood picture, it'll be only a vague memory of what you once were. "You Won't Rape Me" you say. I wouldn't dream it! I accept only the willing that are strong enough to embrace their own darkness within. The dark has, up until now, been forgotten! Abandoned! Forced to recede back to the abyss it had come, but just as Frances Farmer will have her revenge on Seattle, the Left Hand will have it's revenge on the light. Any resistance to this order would be Dumb, and this Very Ape that denies our movement has acquired our attention, and instead of cowering like he should, instead attempts to Milk It. Alias, you will be left to drown in blood like a bag of Pennroyal Tea hanging from the inner-side rim of a mug. Feel special not, you are only the first... but for me, this will be enjoyable. Like a victim with Tourettes, your impulsive outbursts against our order is blasphemy and we are at the point of not accepting any or All Apologies. As you await your birth into our realm, prepare yourself while In Utero... for a new day is upon you."

(Better find some independent movies, boy.)