A heavy, metal door slides open, and a man lashed to a dolly is wheeled into the tiny room. In addition to his restraints, the disheveled and catatonic prisoner wears a straightjacket and an iron muzzle over his jaw. The attendant quickly finishes and exits, slamming the door back into place.
Slowly, the prisoner begins to blink, then looks around himself blearily. Before he can make much sense of his surroundings, a panel in the wall to his left opens. From the cavity hops a tiny white rabbit.
As it hops closer to the prisoner, he begins to smile, and eventually lets out a small chuckle.
I bet I know what you’re thinking. If you beat Tempest, you can beat Montague? You’re not thinking this is going to be an easy fight, by any means. You’re far too clever for that. But this should be a walk in the park, at least compared to what you went through at Horizons?
That’s ok, Lucy. I know you’re not underestimating me. After a battle like that, you are entitled to your confidence.
You and Tempest put on a symphony of brutality, and it was a showstopper. It’s a command performance I don’t expect to top any time soon. It’s unlikely you’ll need a hospital visit after this one. Probably.
Eventually, the bunny hops back into its hole, and the panel slides closed. Another panel opens, and a greasy-looking rat skitters out. The rodent receives much the same reaction of mirth from the prisoner when it draws near.
Several animals are introduced one after another, including a puppy, a snake, a tarantula, a much cleaner, white rat, and so on. Despite how a person in possession of their senses might have reacted to some of the more threatening of these, the prisoner continues to dribble through his chuckling, crooked smile.
Don’t misunderstand, Lucy. You’re going to leave something behind in that ring.
You and I have passed one another like ships in the night a few times, but I’ve long craved a captive audience with you. Not because I hope to dig my fingers into your mind, no, Tempest is the skullcrawler of our collective. I’ve a feeling that, without his sense of direction, I’d get lost in a mind like yours the way I went amiss in the Underlook last year.
My reasons are more… let’s say ‘noble,’ shall we?
While we carry a distaste for the trappings of the Elites, some of you have singled yourselves out. Sebastian Everett-Bryce and Tony Savage are, for instance, worthy of our respect. They’ll never be one of us, to be sure, but there are few I’d rather share a stage with.
And now I finally get to share it with you.
Eventually, the rabbit is released again, only this time, when it nears the prisoner’s bound feet, another panel opens, unseen. From within, a white gloved hand gripping a pistol emerges and fires into the air without preamble.
The prisoner jumps almost hard enough to tip the dolly over. His eyes go wide as he watches the startled bunny flee to the opening in the wall. The unseen panel silently closes.
The cycle of animals begins again, with the non-leporidae varieties thankfully unaccompanied by gunfire. The prisoner’s reactions are more reserved this go around, but a consistent, vacuous smile continues to appear each time they find their way into his vicinity.
Each time the hare returns, however, the pistol reappears, the explosion rattling them both.
So what will you leave behind? The albatross, Lucy. It’s time to let it go.
Could you be so pedestrian as to think I’m referring to the championship which is the source of your confidence where I’m concerned? You’re more insightful than that, so don’t let me down here.
The shackles are of your own making, Dark Lady. Somehow, you and Rogan have convinced one another that the leashed, nerfed versions of yourselves are not only sufficient, but necessary to your continued survival. But I know what I saw. It wasn’t Softer & Gentler Lucy when I looked up to watch you flip Tempest into the barbedwire below. It wasn’t the ill-fitting, domesticated mask this audience has seen you attempt to wear over and over to no avail, it was a metal mask on your face as you overcame the fear for your mother’s safety and finished your career-defining performance.
You let her out, if only for the space between the first and third falls, but I saw her. I saw you, Lucy, in all your true colors; in all your glory.
Soon, something curious begins to happen. The prisoner, who has been recoiling and squinting whenever the rabbit’s panel begins to slide open, is now doing the same when the white rat appears. It appears that some sort of association is forming.
Also, the pistol stopped three rounds ago.
Go ahead and utter the go to line everyone likes to use against the Astrocreeps. “I’m not afraid of you.” We’ve heard it enough.
Fear can be taught, Lucy, but it’s not a lesson I need to give you on Monday. You’re a self-educated expert in fear, because you taught yourself to fear your own potential.
What are the chances I get the version of you we were treated to a couple of months ago? Do you have the courage to bring her out when there’s no barbedwire? When there’s no cage? When there’s just me there hoping for you at your very best?
What you leave behind is up to you, in the end. You can leave your fear behind, allow your Heartless Angel to Descend, and emerge so much more than you’ve allowed yourself to be since your sojourn in San Jose…
Or, you can leave your golden bauble behind.
Don’t agonize over it, the show will go on. I know which anchor I hope you leave…
