Post by Deleted on Sept 12, 2013 23:02:39 GMT -5
The longer I stretch it, the more fierce the hunger gets. At first there are quiet moments, breaks in conversation, where I notice the thumping of human hearts beating nearby. That's minor, though, it could even be due to better senses, not just hunger. Then, however, I start feeling the heat. Or maybe more so that I realize just how cold I normally feel, compared to your average human being. I walk down a sidewalk, a hallway, into a room, where ever, and I can feel that someone has walked this path, minutes before. There's a warm breeze in the air, a sharp scent of something resembling hope. Like what I remember feeling those first warm days of spring, announcing the long winter is over, from back when I was like everyone else. The seasons don't matter much to me, anymore, though.
If feeling like that is the intermediate stage, the final stage is much more pronounced. I notice humans looking more and more flush, brighter complexion, and less sharp features. The effect becomes more and more severe until finally, it's as if I've developed infrared sight. There is only red, and everyone I pass is a statue of blood, waiting to be consumed. If I'm staring, don't ever assume that I like you.
That stage is bad, because once the red starts jumping out at me from everyone, everywhere, I tend to stop thinking about specifics, about "who," and "how," and start thinking about now. By the time I get to that stage, I've learned to get away from anyone important to me at all. I've heard some of us avoid large groups of people, to avoid making a public spectacle, but I've never really felt that. When I feel myself going ballistic, I find that disappearing in a mass of humanity seems to soothe the hunger. Maybe soothe is the wrong word. It focuses it. I become a true wolf in sheep's clothes, stalking the bars, the parties, the dance floors, wherever I am.
It was after the red faded that Ted Money found me. I leaning against the wall on one side of an alley, only a slight smudge of crimson on the side of my mouth any indication as to my actions. I glanced his way, as I leaned away from the wall. His eyes went wide, as I remember to catch the woman who almost tumbled to the pavement absent my support. I leaned her back against the wall in a seated position, before putting a finger to her lips. "You'll forget this ever happened, right? Good." I stood back up from my crouch and nodded at Money. "What brings you to my lovely little alley?"
Money looked at the girl, who moaned faintly, before shaking her head. She rose, looking confused and dizzy, before slowly staggering out the other end of the alley. The much shorter man watched her walk away, before turning back to me. "I swear, sometimes the more I know, the more I don't want to."
I flashed my teeth in a grin, nodding slowly. "You sound like someone I used to know." I shrugged, letting the thought trail off. "But really, what brings you here?"
The smaller man nodded slowly, before speaking. "I told you I'd come back to the training house. When I got there, they said you'd gone out, though, so I did a little investigating. You're quite the celebrity around here."
"Well, I try not to be. But to be fair, a well-known wrestler who doesn't hold a championship belt for a company and he should soon have his shot? How exactly would I go hiding from the masses?" Halfway through my question, though, Money's eyebrows furrowed. "Should soon have his shot?" I nodded slowly, staring into his eyes. "The masses will think what they will. Those who don't will know will not think. But, I will always know the truth. I am the next man in line to get a shot at that Legacy Championship."
We walked out of the alley in silence, making it all the way to the bridge in the center of town, before stopping. Money pulled ahead of me slightly, before turning to rest his arms on the railing overlooking the river, which flowed out into Lake Ontario. Our faces were lit with orange from streetlights, as well as the occasional flare from the lighthouse far ahead of us, at the end of the break wall a ways out into the lake. "So, what happened against Joey Edwards?" Money sounded detached, but I knew he was curious. "Well, I got his shoulders to the mat for three seconds, which usually is how these things end if you aren't careful. And for my last fifty three matches, it's always been the same result for anyone who stands on the other side of the ring looking at me."
He shook his head quickly, seeming irritated. "No, you know what I mean. What happened? You seemed really geared up for this, and then..."
I stared into the lighthouse for a while. "Is it simply inconceivable that I wouldn't win my match against Joey Edwards? He turned toward me, glaring up and me and pointing a finger to my face.
I shook my head, cutting him off with a hand gesture. "No, it's not, but that's not the point. A part of you wants to think that I'm some kind of legend, which should naturally win nine times out of ten. The other part wants to think that this bizarre reality of mine that you've suddenly been exposed to should make me some kind of god, some kind of deity. If that were really the case, could I lose? No, but I'm not a god. Let's save that for a title of a man who seems to be doing nothing right now in a program with another waste of roster space."
Money seemed taken aback by the ferocity of my response, and remained silent, as I continued. "See, there's a reason I'm focusing on this business right now. Because I got caught one too many times with my hand in the pot, trying to play God, trying to solve every problem around me and deal my vengeance six-fold. That didn't work. The end result? Every acquaintance I made for any decent length of time has either fallen away or died. Most are dead, simply put. I've watched good people die, and bad people die. Good people... well, there aren't really that many good ones, per se, but regardless, I've watched good and bad beings of every kind fall away in my path, and every time, it seemed like I was one second, one heartbeat, one moment, from death myself. I half expect John Pariah to stab me in the back at even given point, I know the man says he is a friend. But how many friends have only used me in the end?"
"I'm done with that. Maybe someday the khanates drive will resume, and I'll go back to those ways. Wrestling on the side burner, and first and foremost whatever crazy affairs in the "So Called" underworld I can get my stinking' claws on. But until then..."
I began walking again, pulling ahead for a moment before I heard Money's footsteps catching up beside me. "What of Larkyn Matthew & Anthony Pagano, your opponents this week?"
I snorted to myself, rolling my eyes. "They seem nowhere near the same level of dedication. This match will serve as notice to him, that this business requires such, or it'll break you. I enjoy breaking people and I know my tag partner for the match, John Pariah enjoys breaking people as well."
Money attempted to interject... "Shawn...” He was quickly cut off.
"You want to make your name known. You want to be famous, and known all around the world. You want to do this at my expense, but your credit is not good enough to get a Shawn Cage Card... So keep your head hung low, and try to avoid embarrassing yourself. It's the only way you will walk out of this on your own two feet. Cross the line, and I'll make sure you never walk again. Respect is something you have to earn, and I'm not in the mood to being the reason some punk kid gets his Respect Card upgraded. So save me the trouble of exposing you of being some nobody who will never be anything more. This way, you still have hope after this week's tour event and have some left for John Pariah, and I won't have to be the only man who crushed some little bitch's dreams of superstardom!
You will learn quickly, the ring is no place for ignorance or fairytale endings. No magical happenings, no mythical occurrences, and no beginners luck. Skills play an important role, and knowledge plays an even bigger role. You can be dumb as an ox, and as big as one, and you'll still find yourself cleaning the blood off your tights night after night. Rocks hurt, only when aimed right. Lying on the ground, they pose no real threat. Why you ask? Simple, rocks are hard, and can do damage, but it takes a mind to make that possible. I believe that is where that old saying of, dumb as bag of rocks, came into play.
Knowledge is your key to victory. However, using what brain cells you have left after that massive head injury of having your own head up your ass, would be like you and I in a gun fight, and all you have is knife. At one time, a knife could kill a man in seconds, but today is not like the golden days of the past. Remember, I'm not an American, and I don't live in New York City. Two things that relate me with the idea that I carry one loaded at all times! No, do not mistake me as some pussy that needs to drop you from a distance. Nor, would you be worth the ammo I would waste into your body. This is one of those stories were I am using one subject, to describe another. Do not worry, there will not be a pop quiz, so do not start to stress on cramming for one. I know how difficult it is for you to input data into your central processing unit, also known as your brain; this is going for both of you... Larkyn Matthew & Anthony Pagano.
I'll rape your mind, and then pimp you out to the lowest bottom feeder we have here. They'll pay me, and you'll obey the commands I give you. In these eyes, you see no destiny being filled for you. Only a destruction of one's goal, being a champion for all to admire. Like France would be, if they keep fucking with the "So Called" powerful United States of America. So wee, your ass elsewhere. I don't have the patients, nor the control to deal with some kid who likes annoy people to get his way. You have what you want. You want me to come down to that ring and stop you dead in your tracks... But like they say, BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU WISH FOR!"
Static
If feeling like that is the intermediate stage, the final stage is much more pronounced. I notice humans looking more and more flush, brighter complexion, and less sharp features. The effect becomes more and more severe until finally, it's as if I've developed infrared sight. There is only red, and everyone I pass is a statue of blood, waiting to be consumed. If I'm staring, don't ever assume that I like you.
That stage is bad, because once the red starts jumping out at me from everyone, everywhere, I tend to stop thinking about specifics, about "who," and "how," and start thinking about now. By the time I get to that stage, I've learned to get away from anyone important to me at all. I've heard some of us avoid large groups of people, to avoid making a public spectacle, but I've never really felt that. When I feel myself going ballistic, I find that disappearing in a mass of humanity seems to soothe the hunger. Maybe soothe is the wrong word. It focuses it. I become a true wolf in sheep's clothes, stalking the bars, the parties, the dance floors, wherever I am.
It was after the red faded that Ted Money found me. I leaning against the wall on one side of an alley, only a slight smudge of crimson on the side of my mouth any indication as to my actions. I glanced his way, as I leaned away from the wall. His eyes went wide, as I remember to catch the woman who almost tumbled to the pavement absent my support. I leaned her back against the wall in a seated position, before putting a finger to her lips. "You'll forget this ever happened, right? Good." I stood back up from my crouch and nodded at Money. "What brings you to my lovely little alley?"
Money looked at the girl, who moaned faintly, before shaking her head. She rose, looking confused and dizzy, before slowly staggering out the other end of the alley. The much shorter man watched her walk away, before turning back to me. "I swear, sometimes the more I know, the more I don't want to."
I flashed my teeth in a grin, nodding slowly. "You sound like someone I used to know." I shrugged, letting the thought trail off. "But really, what brings you here?"
The smaller man nodded slowly, before speaking. "I told you I'd come back to the training house. When I got there, they said you'd gone out, though, so I did a little investigating. You're quite the celebrity around here."
"Well, I try not to be. But to be fair, a well-known wrestler who doesn't hold a championship belt for a company and he should soon have his shot? How exactly would I go hiding from the masses?" Halfway through my question, though, Money's eyebrows furrowed. "Should soon have his shot?" I nodded slowly, staring into his eyes. "The masses will think what they will. Those who don't will know will not think. But, I will always know the truth. I am the next man in line to get a shot at that Legacy Championship."
We walked out of the alley in silence, making it all the way to the bridge in the center of town, before stopping. Money pulled ahead of me slightly, before turning to rest his arms on the railing overlooking the river, which flowed out into Lake Ontario. Our faces were lit with orange from streetlights, as well as the occasional flare from the lighthouse far ahead of us, at the end of the break wall a ways out into the lake. "So, what happened against Joey Edwards?" Money sounded detached, but I knew he was curious. "Well, I got his shoulders to the mat for three seconds, which usually is how these things end if you aren't careful. And for my last fifty three matches, it's always been the same result for anyone who stands on the other side of the ring looking at me."
He shook his head quickly, seeming irritated. "No, you know what I mean. What happened? You seemed really geared up for this, and then..."
I stared into the lighthouse for a while. "Is it simply inconceivable that I wouldn't win my match against Joey Edwards? He turned toward me, glaring up and me and pointing a finger to my face.
I shook my head, cutting him off with a hand gesture. "No, it's not, but that's not the point. A part of you wants to think that I'm some kind of legend, which should naturally win nine times out of ten. The other part wants to think that this bizarre reality of mine that you've suddenly been exposed to should make me some kind of god, some kind of deity. If that were really the case, could I lose? No, but I'm not a god. Let's save that for a title of a man who seems to be doing nothing right now in a program with another waste of roster space."
Money seemed taken aback by the ferocity of my response, and remained silent, as I continued. "See, there's a reason I'm focusing on this business right now. Because I got caught one too many times with my hand in the pot, trying to play God, trying to solve every problem around me and deal my vengeance six-fold. That didn't work. The end result? Every acquaintance I made for any decent length of time has either fallen away or died. Most are dead, simply put. I've watched good people die, and bad people die. Good people... well, there aren't really that many good ones, per se, but regardless, I've watched good and bad beings of every kind fall away in my path, and every time, it seemed like I was one second, one heartbeat, one moment, from death myself. I half expect John Pariah to stab me in the back at even given point, I know the man says he is a friend. But how many friends have only used me in the end?"
"I'm done with that. Maybe someday the khanates drive will resume, and I'll go back to those ways. Wrestling on the side burner, and first and foremost whatever crazy affairs in the "So Called" underworld I can get my stinking' claws on. But until then..."
I began walking again, pulling ahead for a moment before I heard Money's footsteps catching up beside me. "What of Larkyn Matthew & Anthony Pagano, your opponents this week?"
I snorted to myself, rolling my eyes. "They seem nowhere near the same level of dedication. This match will serve as notice to him, that this business requires such, or it'll break you. I enjoy breaking people and I know my tag partner for the match, John Pariah enjoys breaking people as well."
Money attempted to interject... "Shawn...” He was quickly cut off.
"You want to make your name known. You want to be famous, and known all around the world. You want to do this at my expense, but your credit is not good enough to get a Shawn Cage Card... So keep your head hung low, and try to avoid embarrassing yourself. It's the only way you will walk out of this on your own two feet. Cross the line, and I'll make sure you never walk again. Respect is something you have to earn, and I'm not in the mood to being the reason some punk kid gets his Respect Card upgraded. So save me the trouble of exposing you of being some nobody who will never be anything more. This way, you still have hope after this week's tour event and have some left for John Pariah, and I won't have to be the only man who crushed some little bitch's dreams of superstardom!
You will learn quickly, the ring is no place for ignorance or fairytale endings. No magical happenings, no mythical occurrences, and no beginners luck. Skills play an important role, and knowledge plays an even bigger role. You can be dumb as an ox, and as big as one, and you'll still find yourself cleaning the blood off your tights night after night. Rocks hurt, only when aimed right. Lying on the ground, they pose no real threat. Why you ask? Simple, rocks are hard, and can do damage, but it takes a mind to make that possible. I believe that is where that old saying of, dumb as bag of rocks, came into play.
Knowledge is your key to victory. However, using what brain cells you have left after that massive head injury of having your own head up your ass, would be like you and I in a gun fight, and all you have is knife. At one time, a knife could kill a man in seconds, but today is not like the golden days of the past. Remember, I'm not an American, and I don't live in New York City. Two things that relate me with the idea that I carry one loaded at all times! No, do not mistake me as some pussy that needs to drop you from a distance. Nor, would you be worth the ammo I would waste into your body. This is one of those stories were I am using one subject, to describe another. Do not worry, there will not be a pop quiz, so do not start to stress on cramming for one. I know how difficult it is for you to input data into your central processing unit, also known as your brain; this is going for both of you... Larkyn Matthew & Anthony Pagano.
I'll rape your mind, and then pimp you out to the lowest bottom feeder we have here. They'll pay me, and you'll obey the commands I give you. In these eyes, you see no destiny being filled for you. Only a destruction of one's goal, being a champion for all to admire. Like France would be, if they keep fucking with the "So Called" powerful United States of America. So wee, your ass elsewhere. I don't have the patients, nor the control to deal with some kid who likes annoy people to get his way. You have what you want. You want me to come down to that ring and stop you dead in your tracks... But like they say, BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU WISH FOR!"
Static
