| Eli_Sweeney | Date: Monday, 2011/05/30, 1:03 PM | Message # 1 |
 Super Cena!!!!
Group: Staff
Messages: 61
Status: Offline
| Is it ever in a mans nature to truly change? Or is it a case of nature changing how a man is truly?
The rain fell in slight wisps of drizzled made curtains. Sweeping across the now lush green grass that filled the open gaps between headstones. The odd weed poking its head up like an errant school kid waking from a nap. Still it held no sway towards the over all mood of the cemetery. Nor would it really matter. Things came here to die, so why not weeds as well?
The night air chilled as the rain never gave quarter. For now it was a fitting thing to have. It matched the mood of the lone figure that stood looking towards the older part of the cemetery. He held his gaze as the rain coated his face in a sheen that seemed to radiate the weak light. His eyes solid and cold to stare into, his face expressionless. His mind no doubt in high gear, but his body stood like a lone sentinel.
Drops of water slowly crawled down his long leather coat, a coat he hadn’t worn for a long time. Something that symbolized how he used to be, not what he was now. Yet here it was, draped around his large frame like a long familiar friend come to visit.
He finally moved, if he were stone he would have creaked and left rock dust in his wake. Slowly he walked to the older part of the burial grounds. His eyes not looking where he was going, yet his feet walking a familiar path.
He came to a halt before a simple wooden cross/headstone. On it the simple words: JAKOB MAYHEM-WCWF 1/16/2011-3/6/2011. He didn’t flinch or really show an expression. He merely stood looking at it and then letting out a slow breath. The mist of the slightly chill night wafting outwards to dissipate.
“Time was that a man could go about his business and no one bothered to tell them how to do it or why they shouldn’t do what they do. I for one never bothered to say do this or do that to anyone other than family. With all the best of intentions. No matter how it seemed to those on the outside looking in. But in some circles that wasn’t good enough.”
Taking a can of lighter fluid, he opened it with his well calloused hands and squeezed it till all the contents had been sprayed over the wooden symbol. Reaching back to his pocket, he pulled a thick book of matches out and struck one, lighting the rest on fire. Watching as they all began to dance the dance of consummation. The slight heat filling the empty space between the matches and his face. Tossing them at the wooden cross, he watched with a non fascinated look on his face. The cross leaping to burning life like a sun. The flames eating it with a glee unbridled.
“WCWF, I thought if I went there that things would be different. Unlike CZW it offered an even grander stage to show the world that hardcore bastards like myself were every bit as good as the ones that jumped around and did the spots like a good little monkey. I was for one of the few times in my life, mistaken. They wanted me to ease up, to be one of the ones they wanted to parade around like a show pony. Problem is that I am no ones show pony. I walk to my own beat, I travel my own path or any of those other tired old clichés. The management didn’t like that. So they sent my brother Ezra down to developmental to show who had the power. That didn’t sit well with me or him. So he told them to shove it and left. They released him without a thought. They never wanted him and said as much. They wanted me. I was the bigger name. What they didn’t know was that when they do that to my family, they make me an enemy, just that fast.”
Slowly the cross started to lean to one side, with the weight of the unconsumed wood pulling it down, it finally fell into a fiery heap. The crackling somewhat comforting on a bleak night.
“They told me to stop making people bleed. That it wasn’t ratings friendly. I had to stop beating them so bad that they had to take a show off to recover. And I wondered what the hell they wanted from me, if it wasn’t what had caught their eye in the first place. Then as I thought about it, it came clear to me. They wanted little controllable monkey’s. Someone that would dance like a slave did back in the day. But the last time I looked I wasn’t a slave, I have been and always will be my own man. So this presented a dilemma for them. If I wouldn’t stop being me, what other options were left. I answered it for them. I told them that I was not going to bow down to anyone there, that they had nothing I didn’t already have. Like money, I have been around long enough to know how to invest it, so I could have walked away and not had a care in the world about having enough to live on. So with that out of the way, they had no leverage over me. And it was done, I told them to kiss my ass and walked out. Thirty days later I was EWA. But that isn’t the whole story, I will get to that in a minute.”
Ignoring the dying flames, he walked past and into the trees that surrounded the graveyard. The branches hanging low and tapping his broad shoulders like the boney fingers of death himself. They didn’t matter, he headed deeper down a path that he obviously knew from a time past. Till he stopped before a rusted iron gate that protected a crypt set into the side of a hill. With no hesitation he pulled the gate open and then closed behind him as he stepped into the darkness that seemed to whisper his name as he did. A single flame seemed to appear out of nowhere and then it exploded into a larger flame as a torch came to life. With that beacon in his hand, he walked deeper into the crypt. The light illuminating an old altar and several chairs along a walk behind it. Placing the torch in its holder, he looked at the old place and almost seemed relieved to be there. Slowly running his fingertips along the old altar, he let out a slow breath that didn’t steam or hiss, just simple was absorbed by the aura of the old place.
“I was so true to myself the last time I was here. So true that I forgot about being me. I went out and decided to create mischief and not worry about anything else. How easy it was to get lost. But I can thank WCWf for waking me up. Perhaps not them in an entire truth, but at least partly. While I was there I watched and learned. Learned that they wanted people like the one I have to face at Shatterpoint. Justin Marsham. They wanted me to be like him. Be the one that did what needed to be done but just to a point that they decided. That was bullshit. All of them there are just like him. Trained mice running through their maze and eating their cheese and smiling when they say to. They wanted stars they made into their image. I AM NO ONES TOY TO REMAKE!! I hate those type of spineless weak creatures. No backbone to stand up and say fuck off and kiss my ass when they need to. Sure it caused me to be released, but I was still a man. Not like you Marsham. Not like you at all.”
Walking over to a small alcove that was hidden behind the shadows the light couldn’t chase away, he pulled out an old book, a candle and a small dagger. Placing them on the altar, he looked at them like they were an ancient treasure just discovered.
“Time was Marsham that this would be a non issue. It would be understood what kind of man you are about to face. Sure I was put down in my last match, but that’s ok, it woke me up to a few things. Things like you are about to think about messing with something you shouldn’t. You took a simple fan and held him hostage, good for you. But I know somewhere in that monkey brain you thought about going after someone more important to Buzzsaw than a mere fan. That is where you are about to cross a line you are very ill prepared to handle. You cross it and there is no turning back. You cross it and you become my sole purpose in life. Ask Buzzsaw what that’s like. To know I will always be after you. That I will do anything in my power to destroy you. Would you be able to handle that fear and constant threat? I don’t think so Marsham. The WCWF made me see you for what you are. And I really truly deeply hate your type. I decided then it was time to remember who I am, what I am, what I will become again. Marsham, the day of your worst nightmare is coming, can you handle that concept? Can you handle a man that doesn’t care about one thing at all? Nothing short of your total destruction? Can you look in the mirror and know that you are ok with me becoming the one thing no one but true family can stand? What’s worse Justin is that you are trying to play mind games with Buzzsaw and in doing so are a poor imitation. Confused? Here it is in plain English. YOU are doing something that has been done to the ultimate before ……… by me. Taking a fan, threatening family, doing whatever it takes to get under the skin of someone you want to beat. All been done. In an odd twist you are trying to do here what they did to me in WCWF. They wanted me to be like you while I was there and I come here and you are trying to be like me. And the truly sad thing is that you are doing a piss poor imitation. A simple fan? Someone that had no clue, inkling or bearing one way or another on what happens in that ring? Has Buzzsaw really made an attempt to go out of his way to find your little playmate? No he hasn’t, sure he looks when he can, but obviously you don’t get it. I invented this routine, I perfected this routine and you are wasting everyone’s time trying to use it. Stop now Marsham, save your own embarrassment. Save your own blood. And one other thing, when you look in the mirror again, stop trying to be a poor sad useless copy of me.”
Slowly opening the book, he read aloud enough to make sound like mumbling, then taking the blade, he held it to his forearm and sliced deep enough to make the blood run and drip into a small recess in the altar, the smell of blood in the air, he threw back his head and then slowly brought it back to normal, his eyes coal black and a look of total hate on his face.
“Marsham you brought me to the EWA by threatening what is mine. You want to try to make it seem like you are something to be feared when you are a pretender. I am true fear. I will come at you like a hurricane and earthquake rolled into one. You had to team with Ryan Shane and let him put idiot ideas in your head. Like the good little puppet you acted on them and now … … now you have caused me to become the truth. The real sole monster of EWA. Tell me Marsham, how will you try to top me now? Can you out wrestle someone using a whip or a lead pipe or a chair of whatever weapon I choose to use? Can you put some kind of hold on with broken legs or arms? Maybe I Will just break your neck and be done with it. Hardcore Icons are hard to deal with, especially one like me who just don’t give two shits if they win or not and merely live to hurt someone. It’s your fault Justin Marsham, its all your fault and no one can save you now.”
He reached into his coat and brought out a small pouch and opened it carefully. Pouring it over the cut and then the blood pooled on the altar, he lit the candle and then touched the open flame to each, both exploding into flame and smoke. The smoke wafting away and nothing to be seen, only heard.
“Its coming Marsham … …. I am coming”
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