The Jackrabbit- The mind of Jay Ethelon was broken decades ago by the man who became Talon. As the delirium worsened, he has become a darker, deeper man than those days, with a power and an intent to do harm. There was a time when his friends were his everything, but times have changed. A betrayer in their midst broke their little gang apart, and the Jackrabbit now stands as the weapon of an unlikely ally- the scheming Tero Haber. Haber has given him a mission – a test of loyalty – destroy the mind of his former ally Vanilla. His searches led him to Spyke- the first victim of the Jackrabbit’s new agenda- but the lead was cold. Now he continues his journey to cause damage to one he once cared so much about.

Vanilla- The girl who calls herself Vanilla has felt misunderstood her entire life. The Jackrabbit was the first person since her sister Cassie that Vanilla could finally feel comfortable with. But when her ex-boyfriend Spyke proposed to her, the Jackrabbit did something unthinkable. Vanilla betrayed her friends to save her sister from Tero Haber, and this led her to a homeless life on the streets- lost, alone, and broken. But a chance encounter with Talon’s associate Jenson has opened her eyes to a wider truth.

Stevie Guile- For nine long years, and at the behest of the hacktivism group the Zero People, Stevie put his personal life aside to join the lunatic Jackrabbit on the road, protecting him from the endless organisations trying to enslave him. But when Vanilla betrayed them, Stevie was forced into hiding and the Jackrabbit aligned himself with those that had pursued them. An encounter with the omnipotent Hive-Mind left Stevie reeling, and out of his depth in a war he only thought he understood. The Zero People put Stevie on a mission to recovering the identity of the leader of his own faction, but it has lead him down a dangerous avenue into a world of Virtual Reality interfacing that he barely understands.

CRITICAL ERROR

Break her into tiny little pieces, leave her mind a shattered husk. The words had become a mission statement to him. A mantra. The creed of the Jackrabbit. The instruction of Tero Haber, the Swedish psycho, the mad man- the futurist. For nearly a year, the Jackrabbit had followed his every word, given his life to the dogma of The Council. He had shed his old skin, peeled it back inch by inch, to be reborn anew in Tero’s image. Haber had spent months before that pursuing the Jackrabbit, chasing him around the globe as OWF took him from pit stop to pit stop, hovel to hovel. He had hunted Jackrabbit and his band of friends. Hunted. Haunted. In those days, the Jackrabbit knew he was different somehow. Knowing always that he did not fit- did not belong- but never understanding why. But he put on a front. Put on a grin. The happy Jackrabbit, the loveable Jackrabbit, he had relished the smiles of his friends, the laughter of the “Rabbit Fans” in arenas all over the world. Make them laugh, that is what he was good at. That’s what they loved. It was a warmth that he had wrapped around himself like a blanket, a comfort against a cold world outside. He had taken that as acceptance. Laughter. Cheers. The big smiling man named after a bunny, a competitor in the ring but a comedian out of it. Happy Rabbit. Nobody could see the fear inside; nobody could fathom the terrified child hoping that his next puppet show wouldn’t disappoint. Keep winning matches, keep taking titles. His warm blanket was wrapped around him tight. They couldn’t know. How could they? Make them laugh. He had been the employ of Stevie Guile, as a dependent who wanted only to satisfy and please. He had been the partner of Talon, as an ally who wanted only to aid and succeed. And he had been the friend of Vanilla, wanting only to play and amuse. His friends were his everything, his shield against the others. Against people. Make them laugh. And as a man called Slayer put cold chains around his neck, educator turned executioner, and the warm blanket was peeled away, the Jackrabbit opened eyes he didn’t know were there. Now he felt them point. He felt them stare. He felt their mocking, jeering, humiliating. People. They thought he didn’t see, didn’t understand. They thought he was safe and warm inside his blanket. But his blanket had worn thin and he was cold. He had been given clarity. He had been the child of Stevie Guile, a dependent to be watched and commanded. He had been the lackey of Talon, a partner to be belittled and used. And he had been the toy of Vanilla, to be coddled and played with. They said he had become darker now. But he had never seen so much light. Illuminated now was the path before him. He would break the toes of the foot on his back. He would snap the nail from the thumb he was under, he would scorn the scorners. It began with Slayer and the Movement. But it wasn’t just them. It had never been just them. People. He no longer made them laugh. It was the Jackrabbit’s turn to laugh. People had been his phobia, his fear, and he had a lifetime of wrongdoings to undo, a lifetime of pages to tear out and burn. He would begin by erasing the past, by deleting NLW one contender at a time, and holding its World Championship as his prize, his redemption. He already began machinations to do just that at Rebirth Climax. He would put NLW back into the wretched grave it belonged. Talon had ended Jay Ethelon a decade and a half ago, torn him into a thousand tiny pieces. But only the Jackrabbit could put the pieces back together. Tero Haber understood. Tero and the Council had taken him in when his so-called friends had failed to understand. When they had stabbed him in the back. Tero saw his potential, Tero saw his mission. And Tero could help him get there. All he had to do was break her into tiny little pieces. All he had to was leave her mind a shattered husk. Vanilla the Betrayer. She would be his toy now.   * * * … July 2014 … … Belmont Behavioral Health Center, Pennsylvania … The OWF was coming back. Vanilla had seen it on her newsfeed, the posts had been Shared and Liked a thousand times over. The OWF was reopening its doors, and it was sending out feelers to all the old talent. Chase Johnson planned to pick up where the company had left off some three months before, and he hoped the wrestlers would too. He had arranged private meetings with the top stars, and sent a dozen more personal messages to the rest of the existing roster. That meant Jackrabbit, too. But Vanilla knew the Jackrabbit wouldn’t be returning to the OWF. The Jackrabbit that had graced the rings of the Outsider Wrestling Federation was no more, and his defeat at the hands of Talon at Quest For The Best had been the final nail in the coffin. He was a different man now. Vanilla had witnessed the transformation first hand; she had been backstage when the EMTs had rushed him through the curtain following the brutal attack by that damn Movement faction. She had watched ‘Rabbit get his redemption, ending the career of EJ Slayer and relishing in the mindless violence at Campus Chaos. Not a conquering hero, but a blood-thirsty vigilante. One violent victory had led to another, and another, but none of it had sated him. He exhausted himself as he poured his essence into his new goals. The Jackrabbit would not rest until he had beaten Talon. And that victory never came. Now Vanilla sat alone in the hospital ward, her Converse sneakers up on the other empty visitor’s chair, her eyes scanning the Facebook feed on her phone. But she wasn’t alone. She was by ‘Rabbit’s side, as she always promised to be. Jackrabbit lay prone beside her, motionless and silent. He regularly came in and out of the coma-like sleep now. He had been this way since the attack on Spyke, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Spyke had received the worst of it, and Vanilla hated herself for feeling more concern for ‘Rabbit than for his victim. But she could not deny what she felt. ‘Rabbit had not asked for her to be here, beside him. But she was. And she would be until he was cleared for release. The consultants had no understanding of his condition, that much was clear. But Vanilla clung to hope. She reached over and casually turned the heart monitor to face her. Vitals were fine as always, the monitor was just a precaution for all coma patients, but Vanilla couldn’t help but to check it. It wasn’t his heart that was the problem, it was his head. Something in there was very broken, and not for the first time Vanilla wished she could just climb inside minds like he seemed to do, and look for what was wrong. She ran a hand idly down his messy blonde hair, tracing along his muscled shoulder and tattooed arm. She wore his trademark OWF shirt, the big grinning rabbit proudly on the front, despite it being six sizes too large for her. The hem traced down by her knees, the sleeves almost reaching her wrists. “Just wake up, ‘Rabbit,” she muttered to him. “Wake up and be yourself again. Make a dumb comment, get a phrase wrong, just… anything. I want to hear you laugh again, it’s been so long. And I… god, I have so much… so much to... tell you.” “So much wha’?” she started suddenly at the unexpected voice, spinning around on the chair clumsily to see the man entering the room. Dark black skin under a white wife-beater, Jed Kingsley was hardly conspicuous, yet somehow this huge dude moved like a ghost. “What?” she stammered, stupidly. “What’ve you got to tell him?” said another voice, and this one was more familiar. Stevie Guile entered the ward, his usual attire of coal gray suit and bright yellow tie and baseball cap fully intact. Vanilla jumped up from her seat and rushed towards Stevie, her arms opened wide for an embrace. “Stevie! Where the hell have you-“ But Jed moved between them suddenly, blocking her way. “So much ya need ta tell ‘im?” Jed repeated in his thick Brooklyn drawl, gesturing towards Jackrabbit’s bed. He pulled the railings up on the bedside, like he expected the unconscious man to fall off the sides suddenly. “Oh, you know… just… feelings stuff,” she gave an intentionally girly laugh, but Jed didn’t return the smile. Neither did Stevie. She couldn’t tell them the truth though, couldn’t tell him about the blackmail she’d be receiving in texts and calls. Haber would kill Cassie, she hadn’t a doubt in her mind. “Feelin’s stuff,” Kingsley repeated again, like a stuck mini-disc. “Come on now, be real wi’ us girl.” “Hey, I’m not just gonna gush all over you guys now…” she said, forcing herself to blush, giving a little coy pirouette. She looked past Jed to Stevie, still standing silently beside his friend. “Stevie… dude, what’s been going on?” she said,” you’ve been gone for weeks and we’ve… we’ve needed you, man.” Five times they had moved Jackrabbit from hospital to hospital. Always on the run, that was their way. Stevie hadn’t shown up for any of the moves, leaving Jed and Vanilla to make sure they happened. She gave Stevie a look of appeal, but he said nothing, continuing to just stare at her. “We know wha’s bin goin’ on, girl,” Jed said suddenly, and something in the way he said it made her blood run cold in her body. “What do- uhm- what do you mean?” she put on her best innocent voice, but she couldn’t stop her eyes darting to the exit. Blocked behind the massive bulk of Jed, blocked behind Stevie. Subconsciously she reached across and took Jackrabbit’s hand. It felt cold in her palm. “Stevie got tha intel on how Haber bin trackin’ us,” Jed said, matter-of-factly. Like this was just another of his Zero People’s jobs. “I don’t know what you-“ “YOU FUCKING SOLD US OUT!” Stevie’s voice cut through the silence in the hospital ward. There was a rage in his eyes like nothing she had ever seen from him, and he pushed his way past Jed to level her in his sights. “I… I… had to…” she began, but found her voice catching in her throat, her eyes welling up with tears. “You had to!?” Stevie’s voice hadn’t lowered, “You had to betray your friends, you had to sell us out to a goddamn terrorist!? Do you have any idea what shit I went through with that Hive-Mind freak just to find out that it had been YOU all along!?” “Stevie…” “We have been running from that sick bastard Haber for years and we brought you on the road with us because you were the first fucking person that ‘Rabbit trusted! I didn’t like it, but he fucking believed in you!” “Mills…” Jed warned, pointlessly. She deserved to hear this, every word. “Stevie…” She wanted to say more, wanted to explain. Wanted to tell him about Tero and Cassie, the threats, and how she had no other choice. She wanted to tell him that she was saving her sister’s life, that she had never meant to cause them harm, that she had believed in them too when she agreed to travel with them. But none of the words came out. There was a beeping somewhere, like a pounding in her head. Tears in her eyes, she tried to run from the room, crying like she had as a five-year-old child at home, scolded by disappointed parents. But Jed blocked her path, forcing her back to the bedside of the Jackrabbit, the man she had betrayed, the man she had almost sold down the river. “Do you even realize what he would have done if he had caught us?” Stevie’s tirade continued, his face an uncomfortable shade of red. “Do you understand what that monster is capable of?” Did he mean Tero, or…? That beeping again, faster like her heartbeat speeding up, pounding inside her chest. She rushed at the door, but Jed wrestled her, forcing her back as she struggled in his arms, as Stevie continued unabated. “Did any of that shit even matter to you when you were selling us for dead?” “I didn’t-“ The Jackrabbit sat up. Everyone in the room startled as he froze there, staring daggers into Vanilla’s eyes. The beeping was his heart monitor, increasing to an unnatural rate. Beep beep, beep beep, beep beep. For what felt like a life-time, nobody moved, nobody said a word, the Jackrabbit’s deep blue eyes transfixed, his huge hands balled into fists at his sides, a thick smile creeping up his parched lips. Beep beep, beep beep, beep beep. She should have said something. Should have grabbed his hand, should have rushed to be with him. But she ran. He had created an opening, and some instinctual part of her mind drove her from the room. As a million contradicting thoughts cascaded in her mind, her legs moved faster than she had ever moved them. Somewhere behind her, she was aware of chaos breaking out, shouting and crashing, but she did not falter. Vanilla ran, and she would keep on running, and she would not look back.   * * * … Present Day … … The Void, Cyberspace …   The stars are the first thing I see. Neon strobe lighting effect, visual noise. That’s one sense working. Hearing doesn’t, it’s graveyard quiet. I try clapping my hands, testing for sound. Can’t find my hands, though. Dull ache in the front of my brain. Right between the eyes. Who am I? A stream of names. Data. It’s loading. Mills. Forester. Greaves. Sol. Guile. I remember glow snakes and fire pillars. What was I doing? I blacked out. The stars make it hard to see anything, but I’m still in the Void. Virtual reality interface construct. Have to be. Shouldn’t black out in here. It’s dangerous. Might never wake up in here. Worst, might wake up in here, but not out there. Body is numb. Something hit me. I remember the jolt. Hit me during the KiteShark crack. Wasn’t them though, I had their apps piggybacked. Body is numb. Can’t feel limbs. But I don’t need them in here. This is just an avatar. >avatar.erase[] Stars are gone. Ache is gone. Legs, arms, eyes, ears. Everything is gone. I’m nothing in the Void. Mist in cyberspace. >//erase.complete[]rebooting I wave an arm. An arm! I have an arm. Feel legs beneath me. Avatar is rebuilding itself. Fresh reboot, on and off again, works every time. Fire up a nav function, try to move around here. Feel that whoosing noise that simulates movement. I’m not moving, the data is moving. But I appreciate the illusion. I’m in a park square, esplanade. Shrubs and palm trees, sound of children playing ball, swans on the pond, smell of freshly cut grass. It’s not here, but it’s here. Is this my code or someone else’s? I run a quick scan on the area but no sign of other users. Some serious memory usage from the pond though. I move towards it, a perfectly serene park pond, blue waters, swans, lily pads. Picturesque. Perfect. Perfect except that I have no reflection. And that those aren’t swans anymore. The huge white birds have taken on an entirely different shape, pixelated, square. They’ve retained the coloring of the swans, even make the same trumpet noise. But the wings have become straight lines, the necks now long blocks, feet oblongs, mobile despite their shape. Amorphous polygons approaching at speed. Antis. Protection software, digital automatons likely here to erase intruding users. To erase me. I fire off some nav functions but nothing happens. Likely a block. You don’t let invasive entities move, else they just come in at another angle. Usually a better one. I back up instinctively as the Antis approach, waste of time though. This is just an avatar, visual representation, they’re actually coming at my system even as I waste time. They’ll get into the system from the inside, and before I know it they’ll Trojan the whole rig. >object.erase[] >//fatal.error My offensive functions aren’t working. Script just comes back empty. These Antis aren’t being erased or shut down. Enough is enough, I realize. I don’t need to be here. Wherever here is. >end.session[] Nothing. No swoosh, no lights out. Still in the esplanade. The Anti is still coming at me. Why the fuck can’t I log out!?   * * *   He had seen her come here a number of times. Benn’s Diner. A typical American landmark, all of the traditional honest values of the good old U.S of A. It reminded him of the Freedom Kid, a darker time, lies and hypocrisy, it made him sick. From the Jackrabbit’s vantage point across the block, he could see inside the whole building, through those painted windows, into the red and white vintage décor, the classic black and white tiled effect on the polished floor. The taxi had dropped him at a coffee house across from the diner, outdoor seating a perfect viewpoint, and he held a newspaper to hide behind- he could barely read any of the words on it, but it was the perfect disguise. He’d seen that on the television during the years that Stevie had kept him prisoner in motel rooms. The Jackrabbit had arrived early, just past sunrise- this had become his habit. Vanilla’s diner visits were infrequent, no pattern, no reason. He preferred it early anyway, the quiet of the streets soothed his mind. No voices here. The world was a peaceful one when there no people. Solitude and silence, a hush stillness hung in the air and permeated his senses. Alone with his thoughts, the Jackrabbit could reflect on what brought him here. His mission. Break her into tiny little pieces. As soon as he had finished putting Sirus Esteban Del Norte into his rightful position of submission, the Jackrabbit had returned to his search for the girl he once called friend. Vanilla, the siren of betrayal, who had so deftly infiltrated his life to tear it apart from within. She who had granted him feelings so she might use them against him. He had found her, and now it was just a matter of time. As he sat there came the rising of the sun, which brought with it the early risers. And with them the noise. The Jackrabbit remained in his position, eyeing the infestation all around him. The revving of an engine, loud and obnoxious roared towards its destination. Across the intersection, an electronic gate began to thrum into position, its warning beacon blaring out to the construction worker manning the controls. People. Irrelevant noise, irrational noise, an invasion on his peace. A father arguing with his child on the way to school, a middle manager yelling down his phone at a misplaced order, a delivery van beeping its way into position. People. Without people there would be no noise. No distraction. No infection. Peace. The world was a better place without people. The Jackrabbit closed his eyes and still he heard the laughter. The cheers from a crowded arena, taunting him, mocking him. He had never understood them, and they had never understood him. Prodding and poking like a school biology experiment, they quickly turned on him when they were done removing his entrails for their amusement. He felt them harassing him now, tapping on his shoulder. “Coffee, sir?” “Be quiet!” he snapped. Why must it harass him? Why couldn’t it leave him to his silence. “Hey, no need to be rude” he heard it say. Rude. Ten years of transgressions was rude. A decade of delusion was rude. He dropped the newspaper, stood to his full height, looked down on the tiny creature that had wronged him. A small woman, its face warped into a look of horror. He had seen horror before, horror greater than this. “Hey, hey c-come on now...” it was mumbling as the Jackrabbit looked down on it. Tiny wretched thing, he could hurt it here and now. He could make it regret bothering him, regret harassing him. He had inflicted pain before, for many years. His life of wrestling demanded it, and he had been in more hardcore matches than his battered memory could recall. He had felt pain and given pain, but none more than the stink of betrayal and disappointment that hung on his conscience like clothes pegs. Once, he had taken no pleasure in the pain he dealt. He had swallowed his own pain like a pill for them. He did it for the people. To make them smile, to make them laugh. But free of his chains, he had grown to understand that the only way to feel no pain was to give it back. He would make them hurt because he would hurt no more. No, he would hurt because he enjoyed it. Like he hurt Nick Perry by bending the boy’s whims to his own, torturing him with everything he was not. Like he hurt Draco by forcing him to accept the anger and the weakness that consumed him, and making him his pawn. Control. Dominance. Those had been the gifts Tero Haber had given him. That EJ Slayer had given him. Power. That had been the gift Talon had given him. He found himself lifting the coffee house creature from the ground, tiny legs kicking in their ridiculous pantyhose. It let out a scream, disturbing his silence further. No one here would hear it. Dumb creature with its base reactions, no thought, no plan. Screaming would not help it. That’s when he felt her. Not the feeble creature in his arms, but her. Vanilla. He dropped the nuisance, paid no mind as it scurried away. From his vantage point, he could see her entering the diner. She had returned to this place again, as he knew she would, but this time would be the last time. Break her into tiny little pieces. Leave her a shattered husk. Tero’s voice echoed in his mind as he approached the diner across the street. His dark boots pounded on the sidewalk as he moved, but that’s when he saw the other figure, just following behind her. A man he recognized, tall, a dark shirt, but it was the neat hair and olive skin he recognized. “Jenson Shanaz...” he felt the name burn on his tongue, rattle around inside his head. The disciple of the Enigma. The hand-piece of Talon. A member of Talon’s group was with Vanilla. Why? Tero hadn’t warned Jackrabbit of this fact, hadn’t prepared him for a confrontation with the Cult. He hadn’t seen Jenson since he entered the man’s mind in his hunt for Talon in his final hours of OWF. Since the week that Talon had beaten him and he had fled the company in disgrace. Dishonor. Disgust. He paused, frozen on the sidewalk, morning light washing over him. Jenson was seated with Vanilla in the diner. They were together. He felt the rage bubbling under the surface, threatening to erupt. He would enter, he would destroy them both, he would dominate Jenson and buckle him under a torrent of horrors, then he would violate her, for betraying him, for leaving him he would make her his, he would leave her a shattered husk. Instead he turned away. Bottle the pain. Control the anger. Vanilla the Betrayer was one thing, but Jenson was another. The Jackrabbit was not ready to confront the Enigma yet. He was one show away, once he had put Perry and Phantasm to rest. He had gone to great pains to avoid Talon at the various NLW arenas before then, and invoking his lackey Jenson now would be foolishness. Contain the Fatemaker, subdue the Foolkiller within him. He cast one last longing glance towards Vanilla, soaking in the rainbow colors of her hair, basking in the familiarity of her dark attire. “I’ll be back for you”, he said aloud into the fresh dawn air, “My little shattered husk.”   * * * [[ Click for part 2 ]]   * * * 1.