Once, the quicksilver was still and serene. Like a great reservoir of untapped recollections, the expanse was adrift, nary a ripple. Without even meaning to, he would plunge into this reservoir, filling his cup with the oozing liquid from its depths. Each cup was a new world, and an old world, to be explored; a memory to be enjoyed. As quickly as he filled it, he would empty the cup. Pour the quicksilver back into the quiet pool, and like that he would forget again. The surface was still and serene, and he would fill and return as he pleased. But that was before the change. Now the reservoir was an ocean, a roaring tide of molten quicksilver that bubbled and hissed. The top layer popped, and cracked, and when he dipped the cup, it was lost beneath the surface. Engulfed and dissolved, and so he followed it, allowing the violent stream to swallow him whole. And he was alive. * * * "What is this place?" The decor has changed; the skeleton is dressed in a red and white fluffy suit, the hung elephant head has been replaced with a reindeer, and the organ has been covered in orange tinsel. Where once there were glass box lanterns, now the area is lit by wax candles and christingles. The organ rings out a haunting rendition of The Carol of the Bells. The Jekyll and Hyde Club is much the same, but much changed. By the entrance, the butler Jervis is doing his rounds in a bizarre mash-up of a jester and a Christmas elf. On a bench decked out to look like a candy cane, Vanilla sits, clad in an attire of torn-up jeans and fishnet sleeves. Her hair has a streak of pink in it, and she is wearing an official Gold Album t-shirt. One headphone is plugged in, the other crackling its noise into the air. Beside her , a young man in a black Tshirt and tight skinny jeans. His hair is cut and well groomed, and Vanilla can't help but think she preferred it long. And how it might look good blonde. Everything looked good in blonde lately. "The Jekyll and Hyde Club!" and she catches herself acting glib with him already in her response, so quickly adds "I first met JR here, I thought it best that we did this on friendly turf.." "That makes sense. Thanks so much for inviting me out to.." "You invited me, Spyke.." she cuts in, ignoring his frown at the use of the old name. He would always be Spyke to her; she'd always believed in a greater significance to given names than the real ones randomly plucked at birth. "Thanks for picking the... uh.. venue, then." Upon picking his choice of wording, Spyke gives the club another inspection. With its seasonal makeover, the Jekyll and Hyde looks even more like its namesake, an attempt to be two things and succeeding at neither. If anything, Vanilla mused, the new decor just made it look even weirder. If that was possible. "Yeah, skeletons don't look right in Santa suits, do they?" Spyke laughed at that, but she could tell he was faking it. JR would have found that hilarious. He'd probably be wearing the Santa suit already, having robbed it from the skeleton, breaking it in the process. Stevie would have promised to replace it, but the proprietor.. "Chiiiildren! Hello dears!" As if on cue, Gertrude K. Boom comes thundering out of the back. It seems she has confused a Santa suit with a snowman outfit, for she is wearing the red hat, pants and boots of the jolly mythical figure but a striped scarf, fluffy white top and a carrot strapped to her nose. She makes a beeline for the candy-table of Vanilla and Spyke, which comes as no surprise as they are the only patrons here tonight. As she ponders this, Vanilla tries to recall if she's ever seen another patron here until Jackrabbit and Stevie showed up. "Can I get you something to drink, darlings? Something to eat? Some eggnog and a kangaroo steak, perhaps!?" "Kangaroo steak? I don't think that's seas..-" "No no, we're fine thanks, Mrs. K!" "And where pray tell is Master Jackrabbit?" "He's on his way! But be gentle, Mrs. K. Stevie says he's pretty sore after the loss to Talon." "Oh, Master Steven will be along too?" "Well.. no. I don't think he's forgiven you for that 'hostage situation'.." "Well, we're all forced to do things we regret, darling! Isn't that right, Master..." And she suddenly turns her gaze to Spyke, a massive grin on her rotund face. Spyke visibly shrinks back. "Andr-.." "Spyke.." "Yes, Spyke.. that sounds about right! Two kangaroo steaks coming right up, dears!" Somehow, despite her size Gertrude manages to skip, and she does so all the way back to the curtain where she is presumably going to prepare the unwanted steaks. JR would have probably ordered kangaroo steaks gladly; he'd have likely asked for kangaroo sauce on them too. She smiled at the idea of it. "Hey, cheer up, you love steak.. kangaroo probably isn't all that di-" "I'm a vegan now.." "You're a.. right, a vegan. Of course you are.." She chuckles despite herself, and Spyke finally cracks a smile. "I know a lot of stuff has changed, cupcake. But it's all for the better, right?" "Yeah, you seem to be really turning things around, Spyke. I'm not.. I didn't expect it.. It's like Moxie says on the third track, you need to.." She catches herself when she sees the look in Spyke's eye. Like this conversation isn't just a chat anymore, like this has some deeper meaning to him. Meaning that she's not sure is there for her. Three years ago Vanilla made the choice to move on from this guy, to move on from everything he put her through; the lies, the drugs, the cheating.. but he was so very different now. Not as different as JR, but so very different to his old self. "I think it's great that you're into that kind of pop punk stuff now, it was very rarely your deal. It's like we've both become such different people.." "Well yeah, I mean, it's like since I heard the album I just feel like Moxie is my.." She cuts short when his hand brushes against hers on the candy cane table. She doesn't pull it back, it's been a long time since anyone touched her hand like that. "I know, I know. And you are my favourite thing, Vanilla. I... I lo- "Vanilly.." They both suddenly turn to the sound of the voice, their hands sliding back to their laps. The Jackrabbit has entered the scene quietly, and unnoticed. He is clad in his usual attire of a black OWF T-shirt and plaid long-shorts, however both garments look unwashed, his blonde hair is matted to his head, his shades covering dark tired skin around his eyes. "JR! Hi! Sit down, sit down you big oaf, how's it going?.." The Jackrabbit ignores the space on the bench that Vanilla has now made for him, remaining stood in his current position, his eyes fixed on them both. He is smiling, but its unlike any smile Vanilla has seen before, as his lips barely move at all. Rubbing the back of her neck, Vanilla continues jovially. "This.. This is Spyke, JR! Spyke, this is the man of many names! Stevieo calls him 'Rabbit, I like JR, and you.." "Call me Jackrabbit." A solitary finger is pointed at Spyke and Spyke forces a smile, nods, raises a hand. "Cool cool.. Nice to meet you, dude." "JR, we just orde-" "I don't like you." Vanilla blanches. For a moment, she simply does not understand. What could he have meant by that? Surely he.. "What?" "You." The finger is still pointing, directly at Spyke. "I don't like you." "Jackrabbit! What the hell?" "Hey, it's fine, I'll just.." Vanilla and Spyke have both got their feet, Spyke looks ready to leave but Vanilla approaches her companion, whose hand continues to hang in the air. She stares at him, but only her reflection stares back at her from his shades. "What is wrong with you, JR? This isn't-" "I knows what you are." The Jackrabbit is transfixed on Spyke, and for the first time Vanilla feels entirely invisible to him. "I knows how you live. I knows how you think. I knows where you came from and where you's been. And I knows where you wants to go, too." "What are you-.. Spyke, I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten-" she moves to Spyke now, trying to console him, but The Jackrabbit continues on, his voice an endless drone that she can't silence. "I seen the sickness in you, I seen the rage. I seen all the dirty dirty plans, all the nasty nasty thoughts. And I don't like it. I don't like you. I don't.." "Okay, fuck this, we're leaving. Spyke, I'll walk you home..." They push past The Jackrabbit, who has finally lowered his hand, and Spyke slides his arm quickly around Vanilla's waist as she leads him towards the exit where a stone gargoyle hangs, a bauble on its nose. At the door, Vanilla turns to The Jackrabbit, her cheek stained with mascara. "I'll... I'll call you later, okay?" The Jackrabbit smiles and nods just as Gertrude K. Boom returns to the room with a plate of steak in each hand. "Okies Vanilly, see yous later!" * * * Current alias: Stevie Guile Log entry code: 25010 Date: 16 December 2013 I won't pretend I haven't seen some crazy things. I have. And most of them have been during the six years I've spent on the road with The Jackrabbit. During his time with the New Legends of Wrestling we travelled the world, took part in global tours. Some of the guys there probably belonged in extended captivity rather than on a globally syndicated television show; one chick even believed she was part human part panther, if you can believe that. Honestly, given some of the things I've seen, I'm not even sure that I don't. Of course, if they were going to lock anybody from the NLW roster in a cage, The Jackrabbit would have been high priority. In fact, for a while, he was; to this day I don't truly know if Doctor Libor Radnik was actually working for the government. Since joining the Zero People I have run a number of checks and have found nothing, leading me to presume he was at least using an alias. Still, I've had a few of those myself. Despite what I'm about to write here, however, I wish to reiterate something I explained in log entry 24601. The Jackrabbit is not dangerous. I've covered the events in the Arcade on 20th October 2013 in great detail previously, and the images of that day still haunt my dreams at night. It will be a long time before anybody in that building forgets what happened there; anybody except The Jackrabbit, that is. If my colleagues are to be believed, despite his inability to recall that day, the events that happened there were caused by The Jackrabbit. I have previously likened those events to the wild thrashings of an unchained dog being whipped by an unknown stranger. Perhaps that metaphor is too tame. The Jackrabbit is not a dog, his psyche is far less predictable and far more attuned to violence. But unlike so many of the men he works with in the Outsider Wrestling Federation, that violence is channelled, and used in defence. During the events in the Arcade, The Jackrabbit was forced to defend not only himself, but people who he has grown to care about. Would any person reading this not defend their loved ones by any means known to them? For many weeks now I have feared. I have feared for myself and I have feared for those who travel this road with us. I no longer harbour those fears, but I do wish to formally raise a concern here for others. I fear for those that The Jackrabbit meets in the ring during his tenure in the OWF. The attacks made against The Jackrabbit during our years as fugitives were impersonal to him, happenstance that came with the territory. The Jackrabbit is often assumed to understand little, and in this matter he was very much ignorant. However, the recent battles and subsequent loss to his former ally Talon were very personal to The Jackrabbit, including the loss of his OWF Tag Team Championship title, and I am noticing an unsettling change in demeanour. For five years I have come to know prattling akin to an awe-struck five year old. Yet this past two weeks I have known almost silence. I wish to make formal my warning that Lorenzo Demarco should avoid provoking The Jackrabbit any further than he has. If I had any sway over the decisions of President Chase Johnson, I would call this match off. At least postpone it to allow appropriate time for a psyche evaluation on The Jackrabbit. At least let us understand our situation before we throw him back into the battlefield. I suspect that the nature of Lorenzo and his allies will drive him to put The Jackrabbit in a compromised position; I suspect that Lorenzo has every intention of doing anything necessary to secure a win over The Jackrabbit. Underhanded tactics, interference, it could be one man or it could be three. And I fear that the consequences of these actions will be more than Demarco has accounted for. The Jackrabbit will not be fighting for any greater purpose. He won't be fighting to save a company, or to break one. He won't be fighting for redemption or for freedom. And he certainly won't be fighting for gold or contendership points. He will just be looking to cause pain. I have seen the tapes of The Jackrabbit that joined the Golden Wrestling Organization over a decade ago, and so am in the rare position to know what he is capable of in this capacity. Were I able, I would implore Lorenzo to drop out of the Addiction match. And when he did not listen, I would implore him to wrestle quick, wrestle clean, and get out of dodge. To do otherwise would be to tamper with an unstable element, to hand feed an unpredictable animal. Lorenzo has nothing to gain here. The Jackrabbit might roll him up and pin him clean; or he might maim him. If I believe what I saw with my own eyes in October, if that were even possible, then he might even do worse. * * * The Jekyll and Hyde Club does not have conventional opening hours, but Jervis is stacking the chairs on top of the tables regardless. Still adorned in his jester/elf combo, he has however discarded the hat, the bells dangling loosely off the bar. The christingles continue to flicker, casting a dim light across the restaurant area, where two uneaten kangaroo steaks sit accompanied by two glasses of eggnog. Jervis shuffles towards the bar, where the proprietor stands unabashed. Gertrude K Boom has also neglected her hat and carrot nose, and unbuttoned the snow white waistcoat. She watches the sole patron of the bistro as he sits in silence by the steaks and eggnog. The Jackrabbit is transfixed on the stuffed disembodied reindeer, though he hardly seems to be acknowledging it. "He hasn't moved, Miss Boom.." "No Jervis, not a tiny bit.. He's barely said three words to me, do you remember a time when Master Jackrabbit barely said three words?" "No, Miss Boom, I don't." "Do you think perhaps his friends have forgotten his birthday? That happens at this time of year, you know? People get excited and forget that birthdays come all year round." "They do, Miss Boom." "Go and fetch me a balloon and streamers, Jervis. We'll celebrate Master Jackrabbit's birthday for him, even if no other soul is here to join us!" The butler does her bidding, his pointed shoes jingling as he moves away. Gertrude does not wait for the paraphernalia, instead opting to approach The Unorthodox One immediately. She rests a hand on his shoulder, but he does not move. "How are we doing there, dear? You've not finished your steaks, I see!" And she scoops up one of the steaks into her palm and begins munching a corner, as if she might encourage the man to join her. He does not. "Yum yum, dear, I added kangaroo sauce for you and all!" The Jackrabbit does not look up, but instead he reaches up, removing his shades and placing them on the table in front of him. "I am better than Talon, isn't I?" "Well, dear, I've never met the fellow. But I do say, I've seen him on the television and you most certainly do have nicer teeth and a much more imaginative dress-sense, dear.." "But I'm better than Talon, isn't I?" "Well he uses much prettier words, dear, but.." "IS THAT WHY HE WON!? IS THAT WHY?!" Gertrude leaps back, steak falling to the floor, caught off-guard by the outburst. Her hand subconsciously reaches for the butterfly knife in her stocking, but The Jackrabbit makes no move against her. In truth, he isn't even looking at her. "I suppose you think this be the end of it, Tal? I suppose you thinks we're done? You pinned me, Tal, you took my best and then you took my belt. You killed Fool's Gold and YOU TOOK EVERYTHING! But you didn't take away The Jackrabbit, did you Talon? The one thing you can never ever take, the one thing that has always been untouchable to you, irretrievable to you. The Jackrabbit. That's what I am, Tal. THAT'S WHO I AM! And I spose that knowing this, I should be laughing, shouldn't I? But I'm not laughing, Tal, I'm not laughing now. Because now is not the time of laughter! One day, Talon, The Jackrabbit will get The Last Laugh. But not today. Today The Jackrabbit gets Lozenge Dim.. Lor.. Lorenzo Demarco. Damnit Lorenzo, I knows your name. Don't thinks for two seconds I'm even going to pretend I don't knows your name. I know all of your names. ALL OF YOU! I needs to know your names, you see, because I needs to tear you down. Each and every one of you. Every Eclipse, every Redemption. Every Freedom Kid and every Nick Perry. Every Talon and yes, every Lorenzo Demarco. Torn down by the likkle man you all laugh at! I don't thinks you understands the severeness of the situation here, Lorenzy. They tell you.. they tell you that you will be fighting with The Jackrabbit, with The Unorthodox One, with the Lunacy Act.. and you make poetry? You makes poems at me, Lorenzy!? You surrounds me with all your little boys and you surrounds me backstage and say I'm pathetic. When you's the one with sixty-three bumchums and a pack of poems backing you up? PATHETIC!? When it's time for Addiction, you will understand what it means to be pathetic, Lorenzy. Saying no words isn't pathetic, Doc taught me that. But singing about cereals and kids TV is pathetic, Lorenzy. Begging the referee to tell you that it wasn't really a three count after me's bounces you off the ring mat, that's pathetic Lorenzy. And not realising that even when four of your little sausage-party are staring me in the eyes, you're still outmanned- that's pathetic, Lorenzy! You're right about one thing though, Lorenzy, ONE TINY THING! No one is going to save The Jackrabbit. No one can save The Jackrabbit, Lorenzy. Not Doc, not Talon, not Stevieo or Vanilly or even this crazy fat lady what's stood here thinking about her poodle back at home and whether she has any pasta in her fridge!" The Jackrabbit jumps up from his stool and shoves past Gertrude K. Boom, who looks more stunned at his remark than at being pushed back. Reaching up, The Jackrabbit tears the stuffed reindeer head from the wall, holding it up over his own head. He is in the molten stream once more. "This is your head, Lorenzy, this is you when I pin you and it's Shayde and Kent and Chase if ANY of you try to TOUCH ME! Don't you comes anywhere near me, because I will tear your whole entire stable down, don't you try a thing, I am not Silence and I WILL NOT FALL!" The Jackrabbit shakes the reindeer head wildly, stuffing tumbling out of its severed neck and trailing down his outstretched arm. The quicksilver ocean engulfs him, swallowing his legs, his torso, his head. "No one can save The Jackrabbit because The Jackrabbit doesn't need no savings! The Jackrabbit won't be getting The Last Laugh, Lorenzo Demarco, because this is NO LAUGHING MATTER! You's going to bring this company down, are you kiddies? Is that your plan for this evening? Bring it to its knees, break it down, make it suffer, make it pay. For why? Does it make you feel strong? Does it make you feel better? Is it so's you can write poems about how you killed the Oh-Dub-Ef? Well I's got news for you, Lorenzy. Your mission to kill the Oh-Dub-Ef is getting postponed for a week, I's sorry, your diary is full. You's got a date with A&E after The Jackrabbit is done making you pay for that top rope headbutt, Tal, and MAKING YOU PAY FOR TAKING MY TAG TITLES!" And he emerges from the abyss to find himself surrounded by reindeer skin and broken antlers. Shaking his head, The Jackrabbit surveys the damage but hurrying towards the exit, leaving Gertrude K. Boom stood where she was, eyeing the destroyed decor with displeasure. She is joined from behind by Jervis, a pair of balloons on his belt, and a cake in his hand with five candles burning away on top. "Don't worry dear, they won't be needed. He found his voice after all, you know..." * * * He is comfortable in the toxic abyss of molten quicksilver. The memories are his to indulge on, the fruits of his labour, the seeds of his work, the secret weapons of his fury. And he is comforted knowing they are his to deploy.