“But.......have you ever killed?” The dulcet tone of the reporter asked. Several lights flashed and automated quills hovered waiting for the American to speak. His victory still fresh, next to him the trophy setting him as the reigning American champion, his name above all the others.
“Dueling is a dangerous sport.....you place yourself and your passion on the line. If you want to be the best, then you can’t hold back. That comes with a consequence only some can accept. It isn’t just about being able to pull the trigger though, it’s about willingness to stand in front of the gun.” Quinn’s voice spoke calmly, the microphone enabling his voice to carry over the crowd.
“You didn’t answer the question....”. The reporter responded, even though everyone already knew the answer. His climb to the top had been swift, and after a few tournaments well publicized. These bait and switch questions, leading to the cover of tabloids was common. Despite his best efforts he’d made one or two, though his attempts to keep a modest and simple life had laid off mostly....... A soft porcelain hand gripped his. Looking to his left the red head smiled at him, teeth so white they could be pearls, and hair that matched the fires of his passion for the sport.
“I think you already know the answer, and I would think common empathy would lead you to the appreciation of my regret. Next question please..”. He would respond, his confidence bolstered by the female that sat next to him.
“When do you intend to begin international play?” A squat witch would ask taking advantage of the momentary silence of the crowd.
“Well.......as soon as poss...”. His voice was cut off by the grip of the hand holding his. Soon a second hand pierced into his sides, the pain burning through not his physical body, but piercing his soul. Turning sharply he would see the girl gone, replaced with a monster. A veela, but with fire for hair, face decomposed to reveal skeletal features. The crowd was gone, burnt and crippled bodies clamoring onto the stage, reaching and grabbing at him.
Quinn King jolted awake. A cold sweat drenching the bedsheets, the heavy quilt thrown from the king sized bed. A car light passed outside, the shining from the window showing his revealed and dripping skin. The girl next to him still heavy with drink moaned and rolled over away from his distress. Her blonde hair distinctly not red, skin darker than the one who had haunted him. Swallowing hard he reached for the glass on the night stand. Downing the remainder he would open the drawer and pop two white pills in his mouth washing it down with the bottle of water the hotel had provided.
Opening the blinds he cared little for his nakedness revealed. The hour clearly late, and the racing of his mind past modesty. His forehead pressed against the cold glass barely soothing the heat of his fear. As his respiration’s slowed to a normal rate he would turn from the deserted streets of a Swedish town he couldn’t pronounce.
Rubbing his face he could feel the beginning of a beard starting to form. His walk to the bathroom was arduous, kicking clothes out of the way. It was just a dream.......no it was just the past. To become a champion, you left behind the dreams of others. Victory was a fire fueled with tinder of others unfulfilled desires. If one couldn’t accept this, then they would always be limited.
He stood in the bathroom for a long time, waiting for the substances to fully enter his system, to remove the pain he felt, to grant him numbness. In time it worked, in time the dream became just that, a dream. To continue dwelling there would prevent the rise to greater accomplishments.
Returning to bed he sought the comfort that could never last. The reprieve was short lived, and then after sleep came again. This time it was simple, it was a soothing darkness.......the abyss gripped his addled mind, but monsters dwelt there. Yes, the road to the top was littered with those that didn’t have the fortitude to make the journey............but the journey was what left many more begging for it to stop. Quinn was on this path, and how deep into the abyss, how many monsters there would be was yet to be determined......or would it be him that put on such a costume.
by 
