Post by Eno Redrum on Mar 7, 2010 1:30:11 GMT -5
Our story starts one night, could be any night.
I'm sleeping in my bed, comfy, warm, the pillows surrounding me are maybe a little flat, though it doesn't matter because I'm in that blissful state of mind where I'm completely relaxed and it would take something major to get me out from bed.
I wake for a moment, something doesn't feel right, a slight under the skin twitch in my right leg. A slight adjustment to improve blood flow, just in case my leg is falling numb and I'm quickly mumbling falling back to slumber.
My dreams are pleasant. I've managed yet again to slip into that dream state, the place where I am yet again God of my domain.
"Okay, Eno, here's what we're going to do. You're going to play a face for a little while." I sipped on my coffee, my heart racing as I consider what marcus has just presented me with.
Everything sounds perfect in your dreams. "You know, you may be right." Marcus grinned at his idea as I spoke these words to him. Marcus does love himself some Marcus. "The good guys also get all the glory in the end. Even if they lose to the villain, no one ever considers the fight over. They'll just encourage the good guy to get back in the ring and take another swing. However, if the villain loses, it's over."
I have to give it to marcus, he can see through a motive like a warlock through an hourglass, and trust me, when it comes to Marcus, there is always an alternative motive. Even if it takes a long time to present itself to the world. "Exactly!" he replied with exuberance, "I want you to take a little twist and try walking the path of the good guy for once. You've claimed in the past that you've done everything there is to do in wrestling, but, I've never once seen you take the roll of the good guy."
Then, with out warning, I'm awake again, laying in a cold sweat. The tingle in my right leg has returned, but instead this time, it has moved to my knee.
Disregarding it, I roll back over, shake my tingling leg once and resume sleeping.
Dreams are never the same when you come back to them. It can feel though you're walking back into a theatre after taking a piss once the movie has started. Nothing lines up and several plot lines have been unknowingly revealed. Confused, you resume watching the presented before you.
Grinning and standing up from the table, I shook Marcus' hand, "Shall we celebrate our new agreement over a drink? I'll buy."
Marcus rose from the table as well, grabbing his jacket from one of the vacant side chairs from the table they were sitting at. "If we're going to celebrate our new agreement, then how about we move to a place that serves drinks little more suited for celebration? And even though I am no longer in the lime, I am still the main figure in JENT so I will buy."
In my dreams, situations always end happy and with alcohol. "I know a good bar, shall we walk?"
Marcus shook his head, tossing his jacket over his left arm, then his right and buttoning it up the center. "No, we'll drive. I don't like being outside when I'm in a city I'm working in, plus it looks like it's going to rain." With that, as if on cue, thunder struck in the background. Marcus just looked at me and smiled.
"Fair enough, we'll drive then." I grabbed my jacket and followed Marcus out the door, after leaving the waitress, who was less then attentive, a meagre tip.
Again, I wake, this time, the subtle vibrations in my right leg have consumed my entire lower body. I would have sworn I had pissed myself if I knew for a fact I weren't numb and sweating. Using every relaxation and meditation technique I can possibly think off, I manage to get my lower body to stop quivering.
I lay very still and drift back to sleep, knowing something isn't right, but I can't place my fingers on what.
I''ll be better in the morning. . .
We shoved open the doors to the bar, attracting the attention of a few midday drunks curious onto who shed the light into their bar during their happy hour. Marcus walked in like he owned the place, "Who do I need to fuck to get a drink around here?" he stated boldly, instantly catching the attention of a pretty young waitress who was serving a man at the bar.
I moved close behind, but almost in the shadow of the man who could now probably convince anyone in the bar that he was God himself manifested on earth. I mean let us not forget, this is the same man that claimed to have died, gone to Heaven, slapped Jesus and then told the Devil to suck him off. "Christ you know how to make an entrance," I muttered under my breath.
Marcus spoke from the corner of his mouth, "First impressions are everything," then resumed to march to the bar and take a seat. I followed and took a stool on his left.
The bartender was quick, "What can I get for you?" he questioned, readying two glasses.
Marcus gestured to me, expecting an answer. . .
I open your eyes, this time it's my stomach that is gurgling. Thankfully it seems the twitching has stopped, though my body is eerily . . .
Our drinks arrive as quickly as they were ordered; a double Southern Comfort on the rocks and a Vodka on the rocks. Marcus had managed to catch the attention of a few regulars of the bar, they claimed he was some evil wrestler hell bent on toppling America's integrity. He claimed they were drunk before their time and ordered them each a Red Bull. Both parties were right on their assumptions.
I didn't say much, though I kept an eye on the one young waitress who eyed us up when we entered. She seemed up to something, though being subtle in her actions, I wouldn't have anything to call her on. . .
I wake, this time I feel every muscle in my body numb and twitching. I sit up out of instinct and immediately fall forward clenching my chest and squinting my eyes. I try to analyze the pain I'm experiencing and calm my body down, but unlike the night before, it is only working in patches. One technique will calm my legs down, but not my chest and arms. I flop down onto my right side and my left side goes numb and stops twitching.
Gritting my teeth, I lay flat on my back and try a breathing technique a friend taught me.
I'll calm down for a moment, but the moment I try to move a new pain and twitching will strikes up elsewhere on my body. My breathing is shallow, the only indication I have of breathing is that I haven't passed out from lack of oxygen yet.
It then starts up again; I can feel the muscles on the left side of my rib cage clench and relax in a pattern that is moving directly towards my heart. Each spasm increasing in pain and duration.
It's time to wake up. The three foot drop from my bed to the floor is presently the least of my worries, so in one painful push of my numb left arm I'm on the floor and scurrying for a robe. My sight is slightly blurred and every warning signal in my mind is telling me to cry for help.
It's only thirty five feet to the next hotel room where BlackSmith is surely fast asleep. After all, it's 5 o'clock in the morning. Yelling is going to do me no good. I haven't managed to get my robe on and I am wearing boxer briefs and don't want to scare any of the late night hotel patrons.
I guess the rest of the dream will just have to wait for another time. Even in the dream world, Marcus can still cause me pains.
I fall into BlackSmith's hotel room, landing with a loud CRASH! this only after after body checking open his door with my shoulder. Fortunately my mission has been accomplished; I've managed to wake BlackSmith up with minimal effort. Now to communicate my situation in as few words as possible with out following that urge to throw myself off the second floor balcony that I know is taunting me from your right.
"I need to go to the Hospital."
I don't even wait for a reply before I'm out of his room, slipping my shoes on and crashing down the stairs.
All I remember after that is waking up in the hospital laying still in shock as I watch the nurses and doctors tend to me calmly.
Eventually, after a heavy sedative, I pass out.
The next morning I wake up in my bed, flashes and reflections of my life still fresh on my eyelids. It takes a little bit to move, but eventually I manage to sit up, instantly noticing that I'm still covered in heart monitoring pads and have three cotton bandages where needles were inserted into my arm.
I rub my head and slowly drift back to sleep where I am greeted by Marcus's toothy grin. Something about him reminds me of an old Snake Oil Slaesman or wrose, the Devil. I guess only later dreams and time will tell.[/color]
So the time to talk is almost done and the time for action is upon us. As each second passes, I feel the urge to revert to my old self and just run wild over the TWD and give them exactly what they asked for, Hell on Earth.
I grow tired of trying to be the good guy when my natural instinct is just simply to react and hurt people. All I have ever known is pain and suffering so it is so easy to transfer that top those that stand across from me in the ring. Deep down I really am not an animal and want to do good, but the world and life's circumstances have made me what I am. I also think that maybe, just a little bit of me finds joy in watching others suffer the way I have had to suffer all these years.
I want to hurt people.
I want to cause them as much pain as I can with my own hands.
I want to destroy Filipe.
I want to destroy Krenshaw.
There is even a little part of me that wants to hurt BlackSmith and avenge the one loss I have in our onnly match against one another.
See I don't play well with others.
I don't like people in general.
Come Supercard III you are going to see just how much I detest you Filipe. How much you have become. I am going to show you exactly how I treat those I do not like.
Part of me wishes this had been a No Rules, Anything Goes type match so that we could truly give the fans the bloodshed and gore they so secretly craze and long for.
However, I will continue to walk this path I have chosen and try to be the light in the dark that is the TWD.
As for now I grow tired of speaking about this and I grow tired of your name being spoken from my lips.
In the words of my former collegue, "Cut my promo."
I'm sleeping in my bed, comfy, warm, the pillows surrounding me are maybe a little flat, though it doesn't matter because I'm in that blissful state of mind where I'm completely relaxed and it would take something major to get me out from bed.
I wake for a moment, something doesn't feel right, a slight under the skin twitch in my right leg. A slight adjustment to improve blood flow, just in case my leg is falling numb and I'm quickly mumbling falling back to slumber.
My dreams are pleasant. I've managed yet again to slip into that dream state, the place where I am yet again God of my domain.
"Okay, Eno, here's what we're going to do. You're going to play a face for a little while." I sipped on my coffee, my heart racing as I consider what marcus has just presented me with.
Everything sounds perfect in your dreams. "You know, you may be right." Marcus grinned at his idea as I spoke these words to him. Marcus does love himself some Marcus. "The good guys also get all the glory in the end. Even if they lose to the villain, no one ever considers the fight over. They'll just encourage the good guy to get back in the ring and take another swing. However, if the villain loses, it's over."
I have to give it to marcus, he can see through a motive like a warlock through an hourglass, and trust me, when it comes to Marcus, there is always an alternative motive. Even if it takes a long time to present itself to the world. "Exactly!" he replied with exuberance, "I want you to take a little twist and try walking the path of the good guy for once. You've claimed in the past that you've done everything there is to do in wrestling, but, I've never once seen you take the roll of the good guy."
Then, with out warning, I'm awake again, laying in a cold sweat. The tingle in my right leg has returned, but instead this time, it has moved to my knee.
Disregarding it, I roll back over, shake my tingling leg once and resume sleeping.
Dreams are never the same when you come back to them. It can feel though you're walking back into a theatre after taking a piss once the movie has started. Nothing lines up and several plot lines have been unknowingly revealed. Confused, you resume watching the presented before you.
Grinning and standing up from the table, I shook Marcus' hand, "Shall we celebrate our new agreement over a drink? I'll buy."
Marcus rose from the table as well, grabbing his jacket from one of the vacant side chairs from the table they were sitting at. "If we're going to celebrate our new agreement, then how about we move to a place that serves drinks little more suited for celebration? And even though I am no longer in the lime, I am still the main figure in JENT so I will buy."
In my dreams, situations always end happy and with alcohol. "I know a good bar, shall we walk?"
Marcus shook his head, tossing his jacket over his left arm, then his right and buttoning it up the center. "No, we'll drive. I don't like being outside when I'm in a city I'm working in, plus it looks like it's going to rain." With that, as if on cue, thunder struck in the background. Marcus just looked at me and smiled.
"Fair enough, we'll drive then." I grabbed my jacket and followed Marcus out the door, after leaving the waitress, who was less then attentive, a meagre tip.
Again, I wake, this time, the subtle vibrations in my right leg have consumed my entire lower body. I would have sworn I had pissed myself if I knew for a fact I weren't numb and sweating. Using every relaxation and meditation technique I can possibly think off, I manage to get my lower body to stop quivering.
I lay very still and drift back to sleep, knowing something isn't right, but I can't place my fingers on what.
I''ll be better in the morning. . .
We shoved open the doors to the bar, attracting the attention of a few midday drunks curious onto who shed the light into their bar during their happy hour. Marcus walked in like he owned the place, "Who do I need to fuck to get a drink around here?" he stated boldly, instantly catching the attention of a pretty young waitress who was serving a man at the bar.
I moved close behind, but almost in the shadow of the man who could now probably convince anyone in the bar that he was God himself manifested on earth. I mean let us not forget, this is the same man that claimed to have died, gone to Heaven, slapped Jesus and then told the Devil to suck him off. "Christ you know how to make an entrance," I muttered under my breath.
Marcus spoke from the corner of his mouth, "First impressions are everything," then resumed to march to the bar and take a seat. I followed and took a stool on his left.
The bartender was quick, "What can I get for you?" he questioned, readying two glasses.
Marcus gestured to me, expecting an answer. . .
I open your eyes, this time it's my stomach that is gurgling. Thankfully it seems the twitching has stopped, though my body is eerily . . .
Our drinks arrive as quickly as they were ordered; a double Southern Comfort on the rocks and a Vodka on the rocks. Marcus had managed to catch the attention of a few regulars of the bar, they claimed he was some evil wrestler hell bent on toppling America's integrity. He claimed they were drunk before their time and ordered them each a Red Bull. Both parties were right on their assumptions.
I didn't say much, though I kept an eye on the one young waitress who eyed us up when we entered. She seemed up to something, though being subtle in her actions, I wouldn't have anything to call her on. . .
I wake, this time I feel every muscle in my body numb and twitching. I sit up out of instinct and immediately fall forward clenching my chest and squinting my eyes. I try to analyze the pain I'm experiencing and calm my body down, but unlike the night before, it is only working in patches. One technique will calm my legs down, but not my chest and arms. I flop down onto my right side and my left side goes numb and stops twitching.
Gritting my teeth, I lay flat on my back and try a breathing technique a friend taught me.
I'll calm down for a moment, but the moment I try to move a new pain and twitching will strikes up elsewhere on my body. My breathing is shallow, the only indication I have of breathing is that I haven't passed out from lack of oxygen yet.
It then starts up again; I can feel the muscles on the left side of my rib cage clench and relax in a pattern that is moving directly towards my heart. Each spasm increasing in pain and duration.
It's time to wake up. The three foot drop from my bed to the floor is presently the least of my worries, so in one painful push of my numb left arm I'm on the floor and scurrying for a robe. My sight is slightly blurred and every warning signal in my mind is telling me to cry for help.
It's only thirty five feet to the next hotel room where BlackSmith is surely fast asleep. After all, it's 5 o'clock in the morning. Yelling is going to do me no good. I haven't managed to get my robe on and I am wearing boxer briefs and don't want to scare any of the late night hotel patrons.
I guess the rest of the dream will just have to wait for another time. Even in the dream world, Marcus can still cause me pains.
I fall into BlackSmith's hotel room, landing with a loud CRASH! this only after after body checking open his door with my shoulder. Fortunately my mission has been accomplished; I've managed to wake BlackSmith up with minimal effort. Now to communicate my situation in as few words as possible with out following that urge to throw myself off the second floor balcony that I know is taunting me from your right.
"I need to go to the Hospital."
I don't even wait for a reply before I'm out of his room, slipping my shoes on and crashing down the stairs.
All I remember after that is waking up in the hospital laying still in shock as I watch the nurses and doctors tend to me calmly.
Eventually, after a heavy sedative, I pass out.
The next morning I wake up in my bed, flashes and reflections of my life still fresh on my eyelids. It takes a little bit to move, but eventually I manage to sit up, instantly noticing that I'm still covered in heart monitoring pads and have three cotton bandages where needles were inserted into my arm.
I rub my head and slowly drift back to sleep where I am greeted by Marcus's toothy grin. Something about him reminds me of an old Snake Oil Slaesman or wrose, the Devil. I guess only later dreams and time will tell.[/color]
So the time to talk is almost done and the time for action is upon us. As each second passes, I feel the urge to revert to my old self and just run wild over the TWD and give them exactly what they asked for, Hell on Earth.
I grow tired of trying to be the good guy when my natural instinct is just simply to react and hurt people. All I have ever known is pain and suffering so it is so easy to transfer that top those that stand across from me in the ring. Deep down I really am not an animal and want to do good, but the world and life's circumstances have made me what I am. I also think that maybe, just a little bit of me finds joy in watching others suffer the way I have had to suffer all these years.
I want to hurt people.
I want to cause them as much pain as I can with my own hands.
I want to destroy Filipe.
I want to destroy Krenshaw.
There is even a little part of me that wants to hurt BlackSmith and avenge the one loss I have in our onnly match against one another.
See I don't play well with others.
I don't like people in general.
Come Supercard III you are going to see just how much I detest you Filipe. How much you have become. I am going to show you exactly how I treat those I do not like.
Part of me wishes this had been a No Rules, Anything Goes type match so that we could truly give the fans the bloodshed and gore they so secretly craze and long for.
However, I will continue to walk this path I have chosen and try to be the light in the dark that is the TWD.
As for now I grow tired of speaking about this and I grow tired of your name being spoken from my lips.
In the words of my former collegue, "Cut my promo."
