I pulled into the parking lot of a shopping mall, piloting my rented Lincoln MKZ into an open spot. The lot didn't exactly lack for open spots, as only a handful of cars filled up a lot that could have accommodated thirty or more cars. I stepped out into the midday sun, what little of it there was. It wasn't much more than forty degrees outside, and the sun was weak, but at least there wasn't any snow on the ground. I took a look around at the mall - Village Square, as it described itself - and spotted the usual: a Subway, a Chinese restaurant, a small clothing store, a nail salon. Nothing particular exotic - except for a small store in the corner, lacking a sign on the main set of displays but with a logo on its window - Mercurio's Oddities. Not exactly the sort of thing you might expect to see in an otherwise completely nondescript shopping mall in the middle of Nowhere, Kansas.
It was, however, the only reason I was here.
The last round of television had been an utter disappointment to me. The loss was one thing - not that I put any stock into my wins and losses in six man tags - but it was more the feeling that I was being increasingly boxed in. Ty's ever present efforts to foil me were still existent, but it was as if a new force had arrived, threatening me as well. I'd come to realize how much I was allowing myself to stagnate. What had I really done in an effort to defeat Ty? Just gone from city to city, holing myself up in hotel rooms, planning, plotting, uncovering the conspiracy, but I was missing a vital element - how do I beat Ty? I realized more and more that was why I lost to him at every turn - not because I didn't know exactly what he was, what he was up to, and who his allies were, but because he still had one major advantage on me - he was just plain better than me. He had all the time and resources in the world to study me and figure out how to defeat me, while I was devoting so much time just to figuring out his plans. But the time was coming that I was going to face him one on one again, and this time, I intended to be ready.
I snapped back into the present as I closed the door of the car. I leaned back against it for a moment and waited as I had grown accustomed to doing, waiting for Stoya to join me and start walking toward me. After a moment I remembered she wasn't with me. Max had called earlier in the week and said that he needed her back for some annual - or was it biannual? - meeting that their corporation was having, to report on the status of her contracts. Or rather, contract - or, more specifically, me. It was critical, they'd both assured me, and so she wasn't at my side for the first time in a long time. It felt strange, but I was managing.
I straightened up and strode over to the door of the small shop. All of the windows were covered over with black curtains, making it impossible to see what was inside. I had found the place using the GPS in the rental car, searching for magic or illusion shops. This had been on the way to Keystone from the airport, so I decided to make a stop here.
I shrugged, and opened the door.
Stepping inside, the place was ill lit and gloomy. It looked more like a library than a magic shop, with a huge portion of the store given over to shelves upon shelves filled with books, some with modern paperback binding, some with old, thick leather binding. A small glass counter held an antiquated cash register. I thought that perhaps some of the "oddities" might be contained under the glass, but nothing of particular interest was there - just more books. I noticed a small bell on the counter, presumably for service, so I tapped it. The ringing sound went throughout the store and I waited. Soon enough, a short, bald man probably in his forties came shuffling over. He looked at me and smiled widely.
"Oh, welcome, welcome, how may I help you today?" the man said, bobbing his head up and down as he spoke in a vaguely disconcerting fashion. He came to stand before me, so close that I took a step back for comfort's sake.
"I have a few questions for a man like you," I said, slowly, realizing I hadn't fully thought out my motives in coming here, only that I was looking for answers.
"A man like me?" he replied, a half smile growing on his face. "I'm not quite sure what you mean by that."
I continued. "You're Mercurio?"
The man's smile grew wider and he nodded. "A nickname, but it's much more impressive on the sign than 'Jeremy's Oddities'."
I nodded and went on. "I...there's a man I know. Not a good man. But he's very wrapped up in..." I waved my hand around, gesturing at the shop. "Things like this. Magic, illusions. The...occult," I finished flatly.
Mercurio took a moment to think about that, staring at me as his smile dropped. "What you are discussing are two very different things. Magic and illusions are the purvey of parlor entertainment. The occult is where real power lies - or so its practitioners would have you believe. Rather, as they believe very strongly."
I thought about that for a moment. "He's a believer in the occult. I know that. But he plays with the parlor magics too. He likes Ouija boards."
Mercurio laughed deeply at that. "Ouija boards and a true practitioner of the occult? If your man is indeed a true practitioner of the occult, he has a deep flair for the theatrical."
I grimaced. "He does. But he's very good at manipulating people. Playing mind games. Getting into people's heads."
The man nodded slowly, but said nothing. A few moments passed before he spoke.
"What is it that I can do for you, then? A book on the occult? Your own Ouija board?"
I shook my head. "I want to know how to stop him. Get inside his head. Defeat him."
"A proper wizard's duel, is it?"
I laughed a little, despite myself. "Something like that."
He nodded for a moment and continued. "There's nothing I can sell you that'll help you. But I can give you a piece of advice, if you'll hear it."
I nodded and gestured for him to go on.
"A lot of people might have you believe that the occult fear God. That they're worshipers of the devil who derive their power from Hell, and are thus naturally opposed to the powers of Heaven." He paused for a moment. "Are you a man of God?"
I shook my head. "Not especially."
"Good. Then you won't be offended when I tell you that's a crock of shit. The occult predates the origin of Christianity by centuries, if not millennia. It predates any religion. In some ways, it's the first religion. It's a religion of the self. Do you understand?"
"No," I replied honestly.
"The practitioner of the occult is a worshiper of himself. He wants one thing - power - and he is convinced that its source is inside of himself. He has convinced himself that the place that power resides is in his own heart, or mind, or soul, or whatever he chooses to call it. And he spends the rest of his life trying to tap into it. The practitioners of the occult don't fear God, my friend - they envy him. And they do everything they can to become gods in their own right."
The air around us had started to grow uncomfortably hot for me. I tugged at my collar and asked, "Then what do they fear?"
"They'd tell you they fear nothing. But let me tell you the truth - they fear themselves most of all. They fear their own doubts, their own uncertainties. I've seen true power in this world, but for every instance of true power I've seen I've come across a hundred who've only convinced myself of it. And each and every one of them knows that they might be full of it. Each and every one of them is terrified that whatever they've convinced themselves of is false. Even the ones with true power are worried it's a lie. The greatest fear of a practitioner of the occult is that where he believes power resides is not where it is resides, that the carefully constructed mindset they've built that guarantees their eventual ascendance to godhood is a lie. They're terrified that the walls will come crumbling down from the inside. They're terrified of the voices in their own head, the little whispering words of uncertainty. They're worried that one day a crack will open they can't close. Even if they aren't lying to themselves, they're worried one day they'll find out they have been."
I let his words sink in, trying to process what I was hearing. It was a lot to take in at once.
"How do you know this?"
"Half of these books are journals of arcanists, wizards, and all sorts of their ilk. Read enough of them for long enough and you'll see that just about every one of them expresses this fear at some point."
We stood together in silence for a few moments longer. I tried to take it all in. I was beginning to think I saw the threads connecting. I looked at Mercurio and met his eyes.
"Thank you. You've been very helpful. Here," I said, reaching into my pocket for my wallet. He put a hand up.
"Not at all. I haven't done anything more than have a conversation with you. Nothing you need to pay me for." He extended a hand. After a moment's hesitation, I took it.
"One more question. If you're a believer in all this, why help me stop a fellow believer?"
"We're not in a brotherhood, my friend. I told you because I never get to talk to anyone in this place."
----
"Bloody Mary, bloody Mary, bloody Mary ."
A lighter clicked and a small flame grew, lighting a candle that revealed my reflection in the mirror. I was recording with a small camera on the shelf behind me, invisible in the low light.
"Surprise, surprise, I'm still alone. Maybe some of you in the WZCW Universe played this game when you were children. Stand in front of a mirror and repeat the name three times, and she comes, right?"
I looked around the room dramatically.
"Well, no one's here now, just me. That's because ghosts don't exist. You can't summon things by saying their name in a mirror. There's no such thing. I can tell you that because I'm an honest man. I tell the truth. I don't speak in riddles, I don't play mind games, I don't pretend to be something I'm not.
"But Ty Burna is trying to do all of those things. He leaves little poems everywhere. He leaves his precious Ouija board lying around. He hides under a mask and plays games from the shadow. But in the end, he's a liar. He's a liar, a cheat, a fraud, the ultimate deceiver.
"What sickens me most of all, though, is that he's able to get away with it all. He comes out under his mask and you all cheer him, he pretends he can speak Spanish and you all gobble it up, he leaves his little clues and plays his little games and all of you couldn't be more thrilled to watch me suffer in confusion. Each and every member of the WZCW Universe disgusts me because of their continual support for the Ty Burna conspiracy."
I rubbed my hand over my chin, going over my next words.
"Ty, this is all coming to a head soon. You can run and hide all you want, you can play whatever games you want, you can use your illusions and your tricks but soon enough you're going to stand in the ring with me one on one and be out of places to hide. No more smoke, no more mirrors, just you and me in the ring. And I'm going to look into your eyes and you're going to know the truth once and for all - that no matter what you've built up in the minds of the WZCW Universe, you're not magic. You're just a man. You're just one man, you're a hell of a wrestler, but you're not God. You can surround yourself with Apostles, you can play magic tricks, but it doesn't make you anything more than a delusional maniac.
"The last time I faced you one on one I said you should find God. I should have known better - you already had. Your God is yourself. You've propped yourself up on a throne of lies, pretending you're the King of all Creation. The Lord of Chaos, the King of the Apostles, all hail to Ty Burna!"
The last I spat out, making my disgust evident.
"I told you to pray in your last moments, but what is prayer to you? Every action you take is prayer. Every move you make is an act of your own holy will, isn't it? You're wrong. You're not a God. You're not a King. In WZCW, there are no gods, no kings. Only men. And when I face you, whether with Chris K.O. at my side, or on that day I stand across from you one on one in the ring, we won't fight with supernatural powers at our backs or in our souls, we'll fight as men. So forget about God, Ty, and forget about prayer, and forget about your illusions, forget about your Apostles. Forget everything you think about yourself, because your greatest illusion is the only you've pulled on yourself. You've convinced yourself you're a god. For a time, you had convinced even me. But no more. I know you for what you are, and you're just one man."
I bent down and blew the candle out.
"And all men must die."
