Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 21, 2012 18:24:11 GMT -5
“Obstacles and signs Perilous and looming Dangerous and moving Dangerous and moving”
- T.A.T.U - Dangerous & Moving
++Losing at WWX didn’t really slight me in the bit. We went in, we did our best, we worked as a team and we fought valiantly. I could fault none of them for their efforts, nor could I fault myself of my own accord. That was the past, and even in the cold, stoic ashes of our loss, a monolith was erected. Requiem was born. A unit of blood and fire. A group betrothed by the same distinct mission. The ultimate destruction of the CRU and the rebirth of the misfits of this business. The hags, the whores, the psychos the creeps. We stood united, proudly displaying our banner of segregation. Myself included. I was one of them. I was always one of them. I just needed to remember who I was and not what my supposed former lover wanted me to be. I was a new woman and just as winning the PCW world title breathed a new life into me, pledging my allegiance to Requiem gave me a purpose. A sense of duty. It was my grounding ideal. This was a new day. A new age. The age of Requiem. The age of Apathy. WWX was a cake walk compared to the fact that in my first match, under the buyout, and the new re-organized company, I had to step in the ring with a man who thirsted just as much as I. Alexander Koresh. This was his last shot at redemption, if he failed, and he would, it was done. He would have to sink back to the bottom of the ladder and try all over again. Desperation, I knew, was setting in, so I had my work cut out for me. I would not become a one note champion, not then, not now. I had a reputation hanging above my head and it was time to pull my own CA card on Martin, afterall, business was business++
“Frank? Putting your feeling for me aside, when you think of me being a champion, what comes to mind?” I know my question seemed peculiar, maybe even a little daft, but I was curious as to what he, a seasoned veteran, a former champion and a man who I’ve known for ten years, saw in me, when I stood as a champion. It was part curiosity, part set up. I casually sat down on his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck, my head cocked to the side. He chuckled and nodded his head.
“Well the first thing comes to mind is the only thing that matters, sacrifice. I have never seen anyone, man or woman, go to the lengths that you will go to, to retain and show off any title you hold, like you do. I’ve watched you bring men to their knees, pushing them to their limits and breaking them like a toy, to keep what is yours. It’s almost like you know no fear, no limitations, when there is a title involved, and while it’s repectable, it’s also just a little bit scary. You know what I’m talking about.” He raised his eyebrow. Me and my titles, alebit shining moments, were darkened and tainted in some areas. He spoke the truth, I had that sickness that afflicted the liked of Johnny Stylez and XXX. It may be the only common thread I had with them. I could, and have, gone too far and depending on whom you ask from my past, they will tell you that I have had moments where even the hardest of the veterans grimaced and let their jaws drop.
“I didn’t destroy that company Frank, it was unwraveling long before I came into power. My reign, my assocations, had little to do with the fact it went under.” I slipped off his lap and went straight for the bar in our penthouse apartment. As I began to mix my tonic, I shook my head, my back turned to him.
“I was the longest reigning world champion that they had. I was the first FEMALE world champion they ever had. I MADE them. My rise to the top, my antics, my sick obsession to reclaim my throne paled in comparsion to the amount of politics and wildfires that the management changes we went through, started. They started it, Frank. I just finished the job and walked away the winner.” I knew in the back of my mind I was trying to sell him a lie. I just hoped he would stand down and buy it. This was a history I didn’t need to rehash. But right on cue, he shook his head and stood up and started walking towards me.
“You ended up in an asylum Liz. You went too far. Randall pushed you to the brink of madness. My only concern is, will it happen again? Are you going to lose control?” His voice was soft and full of legit concern. I went hard, and sometimes, too hard. I drew the glass to my lips and took a drink as Frank gripped my shoulders, squeezing slightly.
“Randall, and my madness, the asylum stay, and anything and everything that had to do with it, were completely unrelated to my world title reign. Faye was really getting sick. Randall and I had that sick and twisted marriage. My personal life fell apart. I just cracked in the end. But I’m fine now, Frank, really.....” My voice trailed off. Was I really okay? A menagerie of pills and supplements. Phyicians and specialists. And once again, my own daughter battling her own illnesses. I tried not to think about what I endured with Faye. That was a wound that would never heal. Holding your daughter as she died. I never wanted to go through that horrific example of God’s cruel nature ever again. I shivered, and Frank pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up. I know how you feel about that whole moment in your life. I guess I tend to forget that for you, the experience is alot different then what your friends went through. You were her mother, so your pain and suffering is going to be far more complex then anything I could ever have felt. I’m sorry. It’s just that, you became obsessed with the chase for the belt, with the business, and it was all because it was the only stable thing you had in your life at the time. I don’t doubt you when you say you are better now. I don’t doubt you when you say you are fine. I don’t even question your sanity or your logical thinking, I just know that in the past you have fallen into the same habit and I want to make sure that it isn’t going to happen again. I want to prevent another tragedy Liz...” I closed my eyes tight and gripped the glass in my hand. As I grit my teeth, trying to stave off those old familiar memories, I could feel my body tensing up. I wasn’t angry at Frank, I just felt angry. I felt the old familiar hurt, aching in my soul. My head hung down and I set my glass down, gripping the edges of the bar.
“I became obsessed, because it was the only thing I could control, Frank.” My words were curt but the absolute honest truth, I pulled away, pushing him away and spun around, my eyes had darkened. He and I still had our own problems. Mainly the ideal that he talked as if he knew, but the truth was he didn’t. Sure he attended the funeral, even shed a few tears when they lowered my daughter into the ground, but he wasn’t around when the bottom fell out and he could never understand. It was time he finally did.
“You stand there and talk as if you completely understand the situation, like you know what went wrong, but the truth is, you don’t. This business, those belts? That’s my epicenter. They were the only things I could ever have control over. I could manipulate and maneuver through it all with ease because, I’m the best woman this business has ever had. I play the game and I play it well. My daughter was DYING. My personal life was in SHAMBLES. I had a husband that was merely in place due to an intricate need to bolster my power in the company, and because we were of the same thinking. Hungry, Greedy, Twisted, And Cruel. Hell Frank, the only reason I got him under my thumb was because I found out about his nasty little cocaine habit and I supplied him and kept him working. I took a bible beating addict and turned him into a blood thirsty HELL HOUND. I MADE HIM! I made that company and here I sit, still not put in their hall of fame.” I bit my thumb, and spun around, grabbing my drink and walk away a little, starting to pace. The truth was all coming down on his head, if he wanted in, he was going to be read in like a military op.
“Let’s get one thing straight Frank, they slighted me. When I went down due to that medical procedure, they wrote me off. Put me on the shelf and forgot about me. I lost their favortism and their support. In fact when I came back, there was no red carpet, no fanfare, no attempt what so ever to even welcome me back. It was then and there that I made up my mind that if I was going to be treated like a cancer, I would become that which they created.” I stopped in my tracks, and went silent, turning slowly to look at him. He wasn’t there. He didn’t see what I saw. He didn’t work through what I did. But he would get the picture when this little rant was done. I paused, sipping from my glass, the ice clinking against the tempered material.
“Calm down Lizzy, you don’t need to get so worked up. You’re going to make yourself sick baby, look just come sit down and we will talk this out rationally. I didn’t mean to work you up like this, I’m just concerned, that’s all. Please Liz, take some deep breaths...” I waved my hand dismissively while I took another sip of bourbon in my glass, then shook my head.
“No Frank, we need to just get all this petty misunderstanding out of the way NOW or we WON’T have a future. You need to realize something Frank, you were in a completely different company at the time. You were off in your own world, meanwhile I was SHAFTED and sent back to the bottom to start all over and that just didn’t sit that well with me. I was BETTER then openers and the JOB SQUAD. So I did what I had to do. I busted out of the gate with a fire that singed the whole lower tier and fought and clawed my way back up the ranks until they were all forced to deal with me. I hit that glass ceiling Frank, time and time again. They wouldn’t allow me passage to where I BELONGED. I went out there and I DESTROYED everyone they threw at me. I was untouchable! There was nothing but a trail of charred remains and men behind me. You want to know what kept me going after smashing face first into the ceiling again and again, Frank?” I held my hand up, pausing to take another long drink. As I killed my glass I made my way to the bar again, and he grabbed my wrist trying to cut me off. I jerked away and glared at him shaking my head.
“TWO things Frank, two things kept me pushing, pounding, kicking and screaming against the empire! My DYING daughter, and the fact that I was PISSED OFF! Every company I have ever worked for, I was the main event. I was the whole show! Didn’t matter if they loved me or they hated me, they came to see me because I’m just that damn good Frank! I put on a show like nobodies business and I ALWAYS have! I EARNED my reputation, the problem is that people IN the business only remember the things I had to do to BECOME what I am! Nobody remembers that I bounced back from an injury and a corrupt owner and management to not only WIN the yearly tournament without a shadow of a doubt, but I created the most controversial and loathed stable that the company had ever seen! Nobody remembers I was the first ever female World Champion, or the first female grand slam champion, no, all they remember are things like Randall pulling his puppet strings to even the odds in my favor, which I didn’t ask of him mind you. They remember when I DROPPED the world title after a year long reign to Randall and WALKED away.” I was seething. I just wanted to leave this dog lie but Frank had to go there. He had to dreg the bottoms of the pit. I spun around and growled at him, my eyes narrowed and glazed over with hate. I whipped my hand out and pushed him back from me and continued my verbal rampage.
“Nobody in this business remembers the good, only the chaos and the scandal and that’s been my reputation for a decade now. It’s never been about the TYPE of champion I was, just who I was sleeping with, who I was screwing over, or my mental and emotional status. One year I held that belt Frank and even you can only remember the bad. One. Year. But even in all of this there is nothing that anyone can take away from me and that is that I AM the STAINED GLASS CEILING and that the ceiling is tainted and stained in the blood and broken dreams of every poor son of a bitch that came around thinking they could best me.” Frank sighed and nodded his head turning around and collapsing down into a nearby leather chair, laying his bald head back. I wanted to feel bad about what was happening but the truth was, I didn’t. I was going to do it right this time and if that meant throwing this all against the wall then that was what I was going to do. I refilled my glass and stood there, stoic for a moment, my head hung and my breathing a bit labored. I did need to calm down. Finally I broke the uneasy silence.
“I’m not angry at you Frank, I just want a chance to prove that I’m more then rumors, biased opinions, and lethargic hate. I’m not ignorant, I know that there have been times in my career where I went too far. I know that when it has come to titles, I have had a nasty habit of eeking out wins based on politics and associations. I can’t even promise that I won’t tilt the scales this time, but I do know that I am still the hard fighting, hard assed champion that I used to be. Even as Juliette, nobody could take me down. I have the longest reign for the belt, the only reason I even lost was because Dathan took me out with a damn car.” Frank didn’t say a word and I knew he was upset. Partly at himself, partly at me. I had a choice to make, either I was going to be stubborn and keep this going, or I was going to step down and reach a middle ground. I killed my second drink and sighed, slowly turning around and softening my stance and facial expressions.
“Frank, I’m sorry, it’s just that you know how much I love this business and I mean the business as a whole, from the production to the show itself. It’s viral in my blood and you should know what any belt means to me, whether it’s a Job Squad title or the main crown jewel. I take it serious. I take those matches serious. Yeah sure, maybe too serious at times, I’m no stranger to taking feuds and disagreements too far. I’ve started and ended more then my fair share of personal business in the ring. Your concerns aren’t unfounded, you’ve been through my madness before. You’ve heard the rumors and the stories from others, just the same as me. I just want to do this right and I can’t do that if I have people reminding me of my storied past. I need people to believe that things have changed, that I have changed and if I can’t even get you to believe it.....” My head hung down and I turned away, setting my glass down and sighing. He still sat silent and I rolled my shoulders, starting to feel guilty. I shook my head at my actions and started towards the bedroom, to suffer in silence.
“Don’t. Come here.....” I stopped in my tracks and turned to see him sternly looking at me. I sighed and started over when he stood up to meet me half way. My head still hung as I couldn’t look him in the face. My outbursts were a thing of legend, I was just thankful that this time, it was in the privacy of his apartment. Just then he pulled me to him, resting my head against his toned chest, brushing his fingers through my hair.
“I won’t ever doubt you again. I DO believe you Lizzy. I’ve seen you at your worst and these fools haven’t. They think they know, but they have no idea. I’m not Randall though, I’m not going to help you win, but I will help you to become the type of champion and wrestler that you set out to be. I’m not stupid, I know that you had a game plan from the day of your first match, you just got side tracked along the way. Things got in the way of you realizing your dream and I believe with all my heart that you want to make a go of it this time. I know you just want a chance to prove the rumor mill wrong, and as long as I got air in these lungs, I will make sure you get that chance. Now will you calm down and come sit? Please?” I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. Frank took me by the hand and led me to the couch, setting me down as I collected my thoughts. I didn’t need this right now. I needed to focus on Alex. Friend or ally, made no difference, when the belt was on the line and he and I both knew that. He was no stranger to the fact that any allegiances we held, became nullified the minute that match started. I was a fighting champion and he was a desperate challenger. Frank knelt down in front of me, rubbing his strong hands up and down my outer thighs, trying to calm me down.
“Alex is going to be running on nothing but pure adrenaline and desperation, Frank. He wants this so bad he can taste it. I mean I don’t blame him. The guy has been working and striving for that belt for months, years even. He is one of the most underrated talents this business has ever had and I know that it gets under his skin. I know that he’s aching to break free of the association he has with always being the second best. He NEEDS to win our match, because this is the end of the line. If he fails this time, he’s going to be waiting at the back of the line....” Frank looked on at me concerned and tried to be reassuring. He took my hands in his and smiled.
“It’s okay to be worried champ, Alex isn’t a pushover.” I laughed to myself and interrupted him.
“I’m not worried. I have one advantage over Alex and it’s his biggest enemy. Experience. I’ve staked my career on high stake matches like this. I got belts, rings, and awards all over my office back home. I’m well decorated and I don’t crack under pressure. Only on a few rare occasions when my mind wasn’t right, or the price was too high to pay. I can hold my own in a match like this, not because I think I’m better, but because, in that moment, I am. I’m going in there with the belt already around my waist, all I need to do is make Alex think he doesn’t have it in him, or wear him down until his lack of experience at the top makes him crack. I have the confidence of success and experience backing me, but he’s holding on to a tight wire thats quickly coming undone. He may be Alexander Koresh, one of the sickest individuals that this business has ever seen. He may shock the masses with sexually defacing corpses and getting sexual delights from dismemberment and mutilation, but I? I am the American Nightmare and I’ve been dancing this tune of madness now for a decade. No amount of shock theatrics or sinister schemes is going to make me back down, because I can meet and match him at every turn and that’s the problem.” I cocked my head to the side and brushed my fingers down his beautiful, charming, face. I had EARNED my title as the Femme Dynasty. I was a one woman CONGLOMERATE and that would never change. Frank turned his cheek into my hand and I smiled.
“The very reasons that Alexander brought me into Requiem, are the very reasons that will be his ultimate downfall. I’m much like him, the difference is I can deliver, where he always, ALWAYS, falls short. I respect him, don’t get me wrong, and I absolutely value him as a friend, but competitively, I have the edge. I proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt when I came back from a seziure to beat both him and the untouchable L.A Johnny Stylez. I was willing to DIE in the spotlight to go out on top, does he want it that bad? Does he feel what I feel? I don’t think he does. I think he wants it, but he’s too scattered. He’s got too much going on to retain the focus. His priorities aren’t where they need to be. Now me? I know exactly where I stand. I know where my expectations lie. What I expect of myself and our match. I will gladly go above and beyond and give him a taste of his own madness. There are no limits to this because if he falters even once, I will swoop in and devour him. That’s the Apathy Effect. That’s what made me famous. I can smell fear, I can taste blood and the minute I see him second guess his chances, I’ll end it.” I knew very well that my beating Alexander a second time could result in my exile from Requiem. I was okay with that. I was still uncertain of where I stood. Aurora had been distant and dealing with a personal hell that I couldn’t shake her from. Alex and I were still a few paces apart, despite my best efforts. I knew that my triumph, could mean my own personal path would reach a detour, but I was prepared, because nothing short of death would force me to misstep this week.
“Right now? Looking at you with that fire in your eyes? That’s the champion I remember. That’s the Apathy you’re looking for. That’s the woman the world needs to see. The strength in your voice, the passion in your eyes, my god Liz.....I’m falling in love all over again. That’s my girl....” I looked away, flattered and a bit embarassed. My cheeks began to flush as my body began to get warm and my heart raced. Frank turned my face to his and I felt him kiss me, the way a real man kisses a woman. Not a coward like Johnny. One kiss from Frank could make my whole body ache. When he pulled away I bit my lip and sat silent, just enjoying the way he made me feel.
“Miss Elizabeth is speechless? Well, I think I may need to take advantage of this moment considering how rare a moment it is.....” He stood up, pulling me up to him with force and scooped me up, planting another passionate kiss on my lips and whispering low.
“I’ll give you a real reason to be speechless Lizzy, I’m going to make love to you all night long, just like I used to....my beautiful Queen.” My heart melted and I closed my eyes. While Frank was carrying me to our bedroom, I couldn’t help but remember in the back of my mind the last time I was with Johnny, when he looked at me with love in his eyes, I remember the last kind thing he ever said to me. “You’ll always be my princess”. So much for that, but who wants to settle for second best? I play second fiddle to no one, not even the King of the World.
|
|
|
Post by Alexander Koresh on Jan 21, 2012 19:08:24 GMT -5
Where the fuck am i?
So this was a strange time to be apart of Pugh Championship Wrestling. New Edge had won the match but who would have thought it had gone down that way. The cRu had screwed everybody, including me, Alexander Koresh.
Roger Wright joining cRu? What the hell? Had hell frozen over. It really was 2012. If that Mayan Prophecy didn’t get us first, then damn cRu would screw our asses and not have time for lubrication.
Fuck, pillow biting time.
But the cRu and PCW had lost the match.
I had been screwed out of the win. And not the sort with a happy ending.
But I must get back onto subject. What’s that?
APATHY.
She is a bit of an emotional chick ain’t she? I shouldn’t listen to her. She makes me feel things. Like when I’m with Aurora, Apathy makes my emotions rise to the surface so I need to be wary of listening to you.
You told me about your problems, your troubles the other day expecting me to feel sorry for you, expecting me feel guilty about what is too come. Goading me into hitting you? And they said i was fucked in the head? Pun intended!
Come on, this is my last chance honey. This is my last time to get that gold. I need that gold. I am going to be the last ever PCW World Heavyweight Champion. So, sorry Apathy. You stand in my way, the path to my redemption is through you.
All that stands between me and that gold is you, and a clip across the chops is what your getting if you defy me.
A black void. Floating in nothingness and cradled in snatches of fond memories, of loved faces somehow unfamiliar but evoking a sense of peace and security. Breathe, dream, draw nourishment through the tubes and needles inserted into her body. An occasional twitch or eyelid flicker, then it was back to the comforting arms of Morpheus, the Sandman...
Something changed, and the darkness began to clear away like fog on summer morning. Up he ascended, through the layers of unconsciousness and he began to feel pain, sharp agonizing pain, and hear voices coming from Outside, then his big blue eyes flew open and strangely enough, focused for since he‘d got home after World War X. He cast his blue-green gaze around the sterile room, the stainless steel equipment and white-painted walls, then to the scary looming figures surrounding him. He knew none of them, or where he was at, and began gasping like a rabbit in a snare, his eyes rolling this way and that like a spooked horse.
The screaming began. High-pitched, wailing, bloodcurdling screaming. He hurt, oh Lord he was hurting, all over his body, he was hungry and thirsty and scared. His arms flailed out, once-strong arms of action now wasted with his bed fastness but still putting bruises on the restraining hands trying to calm him. Crying out from their strong grip on his tender flesh they eased up on him somewhat, and his thrashing subsided as his depleted energy was quickly spent.
"Wha...wha...where am I," he managed to speak. The physicians in the room blared their eyes-they had thought he would be a vegetable for the rest of his life, unable to comprehend or move.
One of the bolder of the lot stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Ah, you're in the Abilene County Medical Facility."
The young man digested that a moment, then looked down at his person. He was bandaged over most of his body, a cast on his left leg and right forearm and he blinked in shock. How had he gotten so badly hurt? He took a deep breath and whimpered in sudden pain, like knives sticking in his side. With his better arm he reached up to touch his head that was bandaged as well. Brow furrowing, he tried to recall what had happened and to his horror, found nothing. In fact, he didn't even know who he was.
"Do you remember anything," the doctor asked him, a cold sadness in his tone. Why would he sound like that?
"No," he whispered, a slimy creeping terror sliding over his very bones.
"What is your name," his colleague, a younger man in spectacles, queries.
"I...I don't know," he responds hopelessly, glancing from face to face. The nurses turn away from him bewildered, pitiful gaze and many of the medics simply watch him scornfully. Why weren't they more understanding? Aren't doctors supposed to care about their patients? Then he saw the police officers emerging from the background, and their expressions were positively hostile. The man tried shifting in his bed and more pain went through him, leaving him gasping.
"Mr Alexander Koresh," announces a very young officer, putting his sunglasses in his shirt pocket. Despite his youthful appearance he seemed to carry quite an air of authority, even though his huge sideburns looked a bit ridiculous. "Or should I say, Nocturnal?" He approached his bedside clenching his jaw and studying his face for any possible reaction. He slowly shook his damaged head in genuine puzzlement, for he didn't seem to believe what he said. "No? Doesn't ring any bells? Well how about Emily Koresh? Jebediah Koresh? Better yet, here's some pictures of your victims, recognize any o' them?" He shoved into his field of vision the mangled corpses of dozens of people, many of them young women, horribly abused all of them.
The man turned his head in horror, his stomach churning. Did they think he did these things? "Please...I don't know what yer talking about. Please can I have some water?"
After a few moments one of the nurses pours a cup of water and holds it out shakily to the patient, who takes it gratefully and drinks it down. He noted how the nurse backed away like lightning, as if the heavily bandaged male would kill her right then and there.
"You don't know who I am either, then," the officer says. "Dobson, now Sheriff, your family killed my father back when I was a kid. I can almost believe this weak, snivelling thing ain't Nocturnal, a wolf among sheep." He bent over him, his gaze full of restrained anger and hate. "Won't matter none, that's the body that killed its way across several states, and it's gonna fry. Yep, you can bet on that, you bastard."
"Officer, that's enough, this man has done things in the past but you cannot punish him after he‘s paid his due. He is now a wrestler," the doctor in charge says, stepping in front of the cop. "He's still a patient under our care. He is here because he collapsed on his way home from the constant carnage he received in the last few months."
The police finally let the patient be, and one of the nurses administered some painkillers through an IV which left him boneless and spacey. He let them do as they would; he'd worry about what would happen to him later. He only half-heeded the physicians and attendants talking over his head while they re-dressed his terrible wounds and fed him through a tube.
"What d'you think they'll do," asked one of the older nurses. "Will they have us fix this broken guy so's they can turn around and execute him?"
"Shhh, he can hear you," hissed another with Mexican features.
"I don't think it'll matter much, Maria," said the doctor in charge. "But we have no control over the law or the courts. We can only do what we can do. And like I said to the Police, Alex has paid his due. And being a professional wrestler has caught up with him. He needs to take it easy for a while just to get his bearings back."
"I hate to see what'll happen if they get the rest of the family together," the senior nurse declares. She was obviously the staff busybody.
"You don't mean...," Maria gasped.
"Yeah, his sister is suppose to be one weird chick. I‘ve seen her around town."
"Alex? Wake up, Alex," came a gentle voice. It was Nurse Busybody propping the young man's ravaged body up. A steaming tray was set before him and the smells of hot food drifted up his nostrils. His belly began rumbling at once and he clumsily reached for the fork with his not-as-damaged left hand and dropped it in his lap. "Well, you must be getting better," the nurse said bemusedly. "You're eager enough for that food. Here, lemme help you." Grunting, the patient groped until he got the utensil back in his hand and stabbed at the Salisbury steak hanging out in the middle of the plastic tray, almost causing it to slide up over the side. "Here, now," the older woman admonishes, snatching the fork away and producing a rounded table knife which she cuts the meat with. She then opened the carton of milk provided and sticks a straw in it while Alex chases the bits of steak and gravy around his tray but says nothing.
What was I too do? This wasn’t happening was it?
I shouldn’t be here. I should be in some shitty town getting ready for my match. Getting ready to whoop Apathy’s ass. I should be getting my kicks on.
The lady finally gets some of it to his mouth, chews rapturously and swallows, feeling the solid matter go down his esophagus and into his stomach. Ohh, that was wonderful. Only after he'd eaten his fill of salisbury steak, mashed potatoes and jello did he notice the beefy orderlies watching him like hawks. What, did they think he would leap off the bed and murder the nurse right then and there? There must be some mistake, surely. Perhaps his family would come claim him and take him home, wherever that was.
After lunch some more people appeared, this time to ask him questions and submit him to a battery of tests. They were intended to find out the extent of his amnesia, and it seems he remembered nothing of his life, nothing at all. He remembered how to speak, and that was about it.
The psychologists exchanged looks with each other, scribbled on their clipboards and left shaking their heads.
Then another man came, flashing a fake-friendly smile and chatted with him a while. He told him his name was Dr. West. "I want to show you some pictures, just to see if they jolt your mind into remembering. Do you mind?"
"No," he replies, but he sensed it wouldn't have made a difference, he was merely being polite. He detested Dr. West already.
He flipped one out of the small stack he had. It was a police photo of a lean, hardened man with long stringy hair and wearing a cocky sneer. He stared at it for a long while, searching with his eyes and mind, but there was nothing. Blank. He shook his head, deflated. He put another photo up, this one of a large surly individual in a mask made of some strange material, but after an initial twitch he didn't recognize him either. "How about this one? Surely this might help you," the man said, flipping up a picture of a beautiful young woman with a saucy grin. Alex squinted at the picture biting his lower lip, but came up with no connection. He felt he should know the person, that they were important to him, but his mind was empty.
"Nothing," he whispers, tears flowing down his face. "These are my family, ain't they?" "If you like," he answers coldly. "The family that slays together, stays together I suppose."
"What's that supposed to mean," demands the man, growing incensed. "Where are they?"
"Mr Koresh," Dr. West begins, shutting his notebook. "It seems only fair for me to tell you, that you and your clan of miscreants were charged with the murder and/or kidnapping of over 75 persons, and possibly more which will never be known. But at the moment people know you as Nocturnal. The professional wrestler."
"So...so you want me to remember everything so, what-so I'll confess?"
"Well, we would appreciate if you could shed some light on a lot of things."
He laughed, a bitter, hopeless laugh so unlike the cheerful, murderous giggling he was once known for. "What a fine predicament I'm in, yessirree. I can't recall a goddamned thing, I'm not anything, not a whole fucking person because I don't fucking know anything! Yet if I do gain my memory and my sanity back you'll fry me in the electric chair, izzat right? Or maybe if I'm a good little boy I'll get life in prison with no parole? Get the fuck outta my sight! As the doc said, I‘ve paid my dues."
A few minutes later...
"What is going on here," came the head doctor's voice roughly.
"Just asking the man some questions, Dr Branigan," the man replied smoothly, standing abruptly. Dr. Branigan swipes the photos out of his hand and peers at them.
"This is NOT to be shown to the patient, he's at a critical point. I know Dobson sent you, so cut the bullshit. I will have you forcibly removed." He throws the pictures back at Dr. West.
Clenching his jaw the skinny, overly dressed psychiatrist departs swiftly. Branigan then turns to find his subject sobbing, hia face in hia hands. "I should a just died...why didn't I die? I'm trapped...like an animal in a cage...alone..."
"What makes you think you're alone," he asked softly, and he sensed that he was a stern man, but a fair one.
"Why can‘t I remember anything? Why has my memory playing silly buggers with me….."
Taking his now-bony hands in his own surgeon's hands he uncovers his battered face and makes him look at him. "I can already see, that the person who committed all those crimes is not the same one who woke up in my hospital. All we can do is work with what we have. Maybe this is a way to truly start anew? Don't give up hope, Alexander."
"I like Alex," he says.
"All right, Alex."
This mind of mine is probably splintered from too many chair shots to the cranium.
Way to many concussions gone unchecked. Too much blood lose. I hate this feeling.
I know who I am but my true self is unaware of it.
Apathy, will you take advantage of me again? Will you? I would, I would if I was you, bitch.
Come on, really? You tried to use emotional shit against me? The Sadistic Bastard? The Innovator of Darkness? Fuck you.
A few days later after much begging from their now infamous patient they decided to remove the dressing from his head and let his look at his own face. He'd been grazed by weapons used by the cRu and NEW wrestlers in several places, and had actually fractured his skull. This had actually happened over the last decade and the nicer nurses remarked he was a living miracle; the other nurses stayed away as if Alex had the plague. After forcing herself to remain still while the doctor snipped away at the bands they fell away and a nurse held a hand mirror out to him. He took it in his left hand (still awkward as he was right-handed) and gazed at the reflection.
His dreadlocks were still there, and angry red formerly stitched gashes decorated his pate. His face was still blotched, more gashes marring his youthful appearance and a permanent scar on his lower lip. Good Lord, he was a monster! He tossed the mirror angrily to his lap, nostrils flaring. "You're still healing," Maria spoke up helpfully. "You look better every day."
Ah well, looks weren't everything, were they? Alex stifled sobs.
“And I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Stood at the doorway, all fancily was Emily, his sister.
“Alexander, how are you honey? We’ve been worried about you, I’ve come to collect you. Too take you home.”
“Home?”
“Yes, and Roe is coming to visit.”
“Visit? Aurora? She is coming? I remember her.”
“Good to hear. Now we’ve got to tidy up. You wouldn’t like her to come to the farmstead in its present state, would you?”
“Jessica.”
So there had been a parting of ways for some whilst others had to survive under the whims of the cRu.
Did Requiem bother with there petty juvenile ways? Maybe. Especially as it pissed me off. They mess with my head and I fuck ‘em right back. Assholes.
Its not a classified secret that I think the cRu sucks balls. Come on, you must have picked that up already, right? That’s one of the reasons why I, Alexander Koresh who you know as Nocturnal wants to win this match.
What? Do I have to explain it to you? Really? Oh okay here it is, Alexander Koresh, that’s me. I beat Apathy and win the PCW World Heavyweight Champion. Yay me! Go Team Noc. Then with said belt I head to the pay per view. Where I unify the PCW World Heavyweight Championship belt with its NEW counterpart, thus becoming the Undisputed World Heavyweight Champion. The Top Dog, the big banana. Oh did I say that the NEW counterpart is none other the cRu’s resident cock sucker Aaron Abrahams? Go figure.
But I move forward a little bit to fast in this little story right? First I have to get past Apathy. The American Nightmare. A member of Requiem. Come on people. This is a cRu ploy to undermine Requiem.
Do we stay the course? Do we continue the resistance against them? Fuck yeah!
The mismatched procession made its way across the field that night, some of the figures carrying lanterns. The females were draped in dark flowing dresses. Alexander was dressed in combat boots, stained white t-shirt and a red chequered hunting vest One of them, Jessica in fact, was being led by Jebediah, the masked giant. Her wrists were tied together and attached to a rope that the lanky Jeb held. She was unusually compliant, which Alexander took for a bad sign and so had her bound. Emily had been floating on air after hearing that Aurora might be visiting and too happy to be angry with Jessica for being in the way. She’d got Alex back from the hospital earlier and they’d spent the day “Cleaning” the farmstead.
Alex’s memory had started to come back a while ago but it wasn’t fully back.
A bulky figure stumbled and was kicked and taunted by Emily, her high voice going more shrilly. "Come on, young bull!" went Jebediah, laughing along too. "I bet you all make such strong, purty children."
After half an hour or so they reached what looked like an abandoned well. "Ok, kids," intoned Alexander, setting down his lantern. "Separating family members is a solemn occasion. Which is why I told Jeb not to bring no hooch," he chuckled. He faced the guy that Jessica had stabbed, saying, "Sorry son, but Jessica is done with you. Say hi to some of my old friends while yer down there."
The young man's eyes went wide, and he frantically started struggling, but Jeb had a inexorable grip on him.
"Let's git on with it," complained Grandpa Cleatus. "I'm missing the Munster’s on TV."
Without further ado the hatch was thrown open and the man was bundled into a wooden box and lowered into the black abyss. "NOO!" hollered Jessica, straining toward the opening, but Alex kept a reign on her. "Damn you!," she cursed them. Then her mouth dropped when she heard the man's frantic screams. "Oh my God!!" she cried, and jerked free of Alex.
An astonished Alexander watched as she, without hesitating, dove down the well head- first. Air whizzed past her head and with her still-bound hands took hold of the rope that had lowered the other man. Wincing at the massive rope burn she slowed to a stop, still about 10 feet above the ground. She let go, splashing into shallow water. A few torches gave off some sparse light but she could make little out.
"Alex you bastard!" she called, heart thudding in her chest. "I hate you, why you do this?" She heard movement all around her, but could make out a faint "Jessica!," coming from in front of her at some distance. She began to make her way toward the man's voice when hands were all over her, tearing, grabbing. "Uuugh!," she spat, pushing at them. They were about 15 humanoid, shambling shapes with dribbling mouths and empty eyes from what she could see by the faltering light.
"Jessica!" roared Alexander from up above. "Jessica! It‘ll only be until Aurora‘s gone, stay alive honey!"
"Fuck you!" she hurled back
Time for cold, calculated decisions. Do I protect our future? Do I let Apathy have her time in the sun? Or do I screw her over like she did to me and smash a chair upon her skull knocking her for SIX and taking what rightfully should be mine?
Oh of course I do what I want to do.
I’m Noc fuckin’ Turnal!
Sorry baby doll, polish it up for me, ‘cos daddies coming home and he wants his property. You don’t want daddy to get mad do you? You wouldn’t like it if daddy got mad?
Time for the Year of Sadism to kick it big time.
Are you with me?
|
|