Mathematics and Technology

She didn’t like hospitals. Too sterile, too busy, too full of old people waiting to die. So why was it, as she sat at a table outside of a coffee shop, sipping slowly at a white mocha, was her mind telling her she should head to the hospital? As another group of pedestrians passed by down the sidewalk, she tugged the hood of her jacket tighter around her head, trying to hide her identity. Not all that easy when you’ve got bright pink hair, but she did what she could, even if that meant looking like a crazy person wearing a black hooded jacket in the middle of Australian summer.

She finished off her drink and tossed the plastic cup into one of the trash bins nearby before crossing the street and getting into her rental Tesla Model S. She powered it on, then punched some commands into the GPS before setting off down the road.

It doesn’t make any sense to me. In the middle of this tournament to name the new number one contender to the world title, Licious decides to take three of us from the tournament and give us a shot at the Absolute title? I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it just doesn’t make any sense why he’d give one of us, let alone three of us, the chance to win one title just a few weeks prior to potentially winning another, bigger title. It really makes you stop and wonder if there isn’t some sort of a catch to it. Like, if I win the Absolute title this week, does that disqualify me from the rest of the tournament? That’s absurd, and it would be an injustice, and it would totally justify wrecking Licious’s office in rage. But I can’t let myself think about that being a possibility. I have to just accept that this is the face value of it. I have to accept that this week at Carnage, I will walk out the new Absolute champion, and then next week it’s back to business as usual as I continue on towards winning the tournament to go on to become the next World champion.

As she sat at a red light waiting to make a left hand turn, one of those serendipitous moments happened where the turn signal on her car synched up with the car in front of her for about two seconds. It’s just one of those weird things with mathematics and electronics and all of the other crazy things that float around our universe, that every now and then come together and everything seems to make sense for a moment. Two seconds later, and it’s gone. Now the turn signals were alternating back and forth, on and off, and now? Completely out of synch. More mathematics and electronics working in harmony and the light changes to a left turn arrow, the cars move, the turn signals stop blinking, and life returns to “normal”.

If anything, it seems to me like he’s just trying to make sure that the few fragile friendships that have managed to form despite the competitive business we all work in are doomed to fail. Granted, I’m not really close friends with anyone here right now, but I’ve been trying. Derrick Trotter’s come around, but he’s still a bit too much for me sometimes with his crazy ideas and antics. Trine...who knows if she’ll come around? Her roommate didn’t seem so bad when I ran into her, maybe she’ll talk some sense into the girl. And Yolandi, well… Things are still very up in the air with her, it would seem.

Another moment passed in silent contemplation. At sixty miles per hour, the world just seems to kind of blur past at times. But every so often, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye, and you have to take a step back and contemplate it. At this point, that thing was a small group of kangaroos off in a field about a hundred feet from the side of the road. A smile crossed her face as she watched them cautiously. They really were like the Australian version of deer, a bit unpredictable and not afraid to jump out into the road in front of your car without warning. This was a rental, after all, and she didn’t want to have to deal with those fees.

So Yolandi beat me last week. I’m not all that surprised by it, actually. She’s one hell of a competitor, and I knew she’d be wanting to make a statement upon her return. I knew she’d be out there to remind everyone of why she’s the evilest little wrestler on the planet. And I also knew she’d be taking some marching orders from Grace Brutal. Am I upset that she beat me? Naturally. I’d like to keep that number in the losses column as small as possible. And now I have one strike against me in this World title tournament. One moment of complacency, three quick seconds with my back on the mat, and my opportunities at going after the World title have to take a back seat to everyone else. That’s not somewhere I like to be. I like to be right here where I am right now. In the driver’s seat.

As the car turned and made a left, pointing towards some hills not far off in the distance, she smiled a bit as she passed a sign that indicated a curvy road ahead for the next three miles. Those were the best kind of roads, the ones where you can really find out what your car is capable of doing. Where you can just throw it into a turn at a seemingly unsafe speed, listen as the tires start to slip at the threshold of their traction, and hold it just right there, barely in control of the car as it slides around the banked bit of pavement. Straighten it out and do it again on the next turn just ahead going the other way.

This week though, I don’t have to worry about that. My match this week isn’t a part of the tournament. Apparently whatever monkey they hired to pull the names out of the hat for the tournament matches went on strike due to a lack of bananas, so they had to put the tournament on hold until they could find a new one. They should really look into a chimp, orangutans are far too close to what we humans call gingers… So this week, I get put into a match with Trine, Derrick, and Alexander Lord, with Lord’s Absolute title on the line. So just when I’m starting to make progress and make a few friends around here, I get stuck in a match with them where I’m going to beat them and take the prize from them. How am I supposed to keep any friends this way? Well, hopefully they can all realize just the same as I do, that this is just business. What happens between the ropes doesn’t have to carry over outside of the ring. It’s the same thing I told Yolandi last week, and it’s the same thing I’d say to any of these I’m up against this week. When I kick you in the jaw and pin you for the win, it’s nothing personal. It’s just business.

Coming out of the last curve on that stretch of road, she straightened the car out and stared down a straight bit of road that led downhill into the city. Views like this were hard to come by, all the lights lit up in the buildings as twilight quickly approached. But when you did see a sight like this, it always makes you stop and consider a bit. Just how wonderful modern technology really is, and how when viewed at a distance, it’s an art form all of its own. Mathematics and technology, working together in unison to make everything work on time. The straight road just seemed to be begging for speed, and so she pressed down on the accelerator, granting it’s wish and speeding on towards the city limits.

Trine Larsen. The super bubbly, do good, nothing could ever go wrong girl. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with that kind of an outlook on life. In fact, I wish sometimes I could look at life through those same rose-colored glasses. The problem is, I was hit in the face very early on with the stark realization that life is anything but happy all the time. It’s a cruel world we live in, the only person looking out for each of us is ourselves. It’s fine and dandy to wish that it wasn’t like that, but I’ve seen it. The world is a cruel place. And that’s why I will do what I must do at Carnage in order to defeat you and the other two. It’s a shame we see the world so differently, you and I. If it weren’t so, I really think we could make fast friends. Who knows, maybe someday we still will.

Inside the city limits, nothing but a grid of asphalt and buildings. Not a square inch of green grass to be seen for miles on end. Lights blinking, red, green, yellow, like some sort of bizarre, year-round Christmas display. More reds and yellows on the street level, brake and turn signal lights, indicating where and at what speed exactly each car intended on going. Marching on and on, like a parade of worker ants through the busy hive of the city.

Derrick Trotter. Anything for a laugh with this one, isn’t it? I start to wonder if you ever take yourself seriously. Ever. I can recall on at least one occasion where you caused your team, and Trine’s team both to lose a match because you were too busy joking around at ring side. You’ve even enlisted my help to help you win a match. It almost begs the question, are you capable of winning a match under your own power, or will you always need someone there to hold your hand and help you along? Don’t get my words twisted, you’ve obviously got some bit of skill, or otherwise you wouldn’t have -any- wins here in the WWG. You wouldn’t have gotten half this far. But how many of your wins can you say you’ve managed to win without some help? With out me, without Trine, without your brother? What have you ever done on your own power? That’s what I want to see you do this week, Derrick. I want to see you try and win this one without an assist from anyone else. Granted, you’re not going to win this match, I am. But do me a favor, and let me see you try.

Turning off of the main road and into the parking garage, the scene seemed to turn subterranean, even though it was fair enough above ground. Circling, around and around, climbing higher and higher until an open spot could be found. The car was turned into it and powered off, and she climbed out of it. She made her way across the lot and to the elevator. It seemed almost pointless, to drive the car up three floors, just to ride the elevator back down three floors. But that’s just the way of things in this crazy world, isn’t it?

And then there’s the wildcard, Alexander Lord. The Absolute champion. The one person in this match I know the least about. The one person in this match who I’ve only met in the ring once, and briefly. The one person in this match with the most to lose. And the worst part of it all for you? You don’t even have to lose the match to lose your title. That works out just fine for me. After all, I can just beat Trine Larsen, who I’ve beat before, and walk away the new champion. Of course, she’s also beaten me before as well, took a title away from me already. Or there’s Derrick Trotter, who Trine and I have both beaten in the past. The only thing left unknown here is how your presence in the match will come into play. Outside of the elimination chamber where we fought briefly, you haven’t been in the ring with any of us yet. You’ve shown some bit of promise here, winning that Absolute championship. Getting into the elimination chamber match. Being a part of this number one contender’s tournament just like me. But what have you proven? You got that title from Kaiju, a sad, broken little man, who got the title from The Ascension, a team that I had beat earlier in the same night. A team that even Trevor Blackwell can count a win over. So in a series of odd, cosmic events, you’ve found yourself carrying around the Absolute championship for some time now. But do you feel proud about the path that brought that belt to your shoulder? Do you really think you stand to keep it there much longer, should you manage to hang onto it after this week? Are you absolutely sure that you deserve to be the Absolute champion? I’m not. I’m not sure I deserve to be either. No, I take that back. I am sure. I’ve been the Carnage champion, and I’m going to be the World champion when this tournament is over. Why not pick up the Absolute championship along the way and be the quickest rising Triple-Crown this company has ever seen?

Walking up to the front counter of the hospital, the receptionist looked up to her.

Receptionist::
“How may I help you?”

It was a simple enough question to find an answer to.

Rayven::
“O’Neil. Leif O’Neil.”

The receptionist keyed something into her computer and then a moment later she looked back up.

Receptionist::
“Room 205.”

Without another word, she moved off down the hallway to find the elevators to take her up to the second floor. Up and down, and up again. All to the tune of some shitty music from the eighties that you’d all but forgotten about up until just now when you heard it playing in the elevator. Who ever decided that was the right kind of music to be playing in elevators anyways? The doors opened out to the second floor and she stepped out, following the signage on the walls indicating which direction she should walk in order to find room 205. With each room she passed, she stopped and cast a glance in each one. She paused at one of the rooms and stared for a moment. The face looked familiar enough, but could it be that much of a coincidence that they’d end up in the same wing of the same hospital? Sure enough, the name on the plaque outside of the door read “Frederick Kavanagh”.

Kavanagh. The man who, somewhere on a piece of paper, it says I work for him. It’s funny to think of it like that, when I’ve hardly seen the man around the business and it seems as though Licious is the one calling all of the shots. In fact, it was Licious who called the shots that landed Kavanagh in this very position. As for me? I have no loyalties to either one of them. Licious has done plenty for me, of course. He gave me the shot at The Ascension where I took the Carnage title from them, but that was after weeks of me demanding it. Kavanagh, however, he was the one that put me into this number one contender’s match. So I guess they’re both even in the category of what have they done for me. At any rate, he’s not the one I came here to see. Best wishes and all that, but I’ve got other business here today that doesn’t include stopping to see how you’re doing.

Another few steps down the hallway brought her to room 205. The door to the room was open, the muffled sounds of the television floating out into the hallway, and everything just smelled so….sterile. She made a face at the scent as she turned and walked into the room. Leif was laying, resting in the first bed. The second bed was left unoccupied. He stirred a bit and looked at her confused as she grabbed one of the chairs and slid it over next to the bed. She sat on it and just stared at Leif for a moment.

Leif::
“You’re not who I was expecting. Can I help you?”

Rayven::
“No. No, you can’t help me, especially not in this state, can you? I came here for one reason and one reason only, so don’t get it twisted. What happened last week, Nick attacking you and sending you here. I don’t know what that’s all about, but I’m sorry it happened to you. Nick was always the wildcard in that family, you could never quite tell what was really going on inside of his head, but the one thing you could be for certain was that he wasn’t marching to the beat of his own drum. His strings are always being pulled by someone else. Now I know you and I aren’t exactly friends, and your pretty little girlfriend doesn’t seem to care for me much, but if you want my help with The Family… Well, I’ve already started one war with them.”

Leif seemed to consider the offer for a moment, but before he could give an answer, the sound of footsteps leading up to the room and entering could be heard. Trine Larsen came walking into the room, holding a bag from a fast food chain.

Trine::
“Hey Leif, I brought you som-”

Silence, as her eyes fell upon Rayven sitting next to Leif’s bed.

Trine::
“What the hell are you doing here?”