Post by The King on Apr 25, 2018 12:19:18 GMT -5
You are weak. Feeble-minded. You, Brad Swann, are nothing more than a Protege. You, you will never be anything more than Bobby Barratt's bitch. In-fact, son, you are Bobby Barratt's bitch. You have no friends in this world, Swann, you never have, never will. No-one's ever liked you, nor will they ever, you're far too up your own fucking ass to understand how much pain you cause people, the annoyance you concur. You're a dickhead. You know it. I know it. We know it. You are a Protege unwilling to learn, like a fishing rod that's unable to catch fish, an eagle not willing to stalk it's prey. You, Brad Swann, are useless...
I, Brad Swann, am useless...
NO! NO! NO! I AM NOT USELESS. Yes you are. NO I'M NOT. Hehehehehe. I am sad. Or am I? Yes I am. Am I sure? I'm sure. Am I though? No. Yes. NYOSSSS! Hehehehe. YOU ARE WRONG. YOU HEAR ME, SWANN? YOU, I, WE ARE WRONG!
Or are we?
I wake up. I look around at my surroundings, pure white. I'm lost, confused. Then, my eyes come to fruition, I'm at the hospital. I'm in a hospital bed. I freak out, what hospital? How did I get here? What the fuck is happening to me? Last thing I remember, I was knocked unconscious onto a steel chai- The fucking bastard, Jack Diamond. The fucking bastard, Maverick. THEY PUT ME HERE. I rip the cords from off my arms and chuck the bed sheets from off of me in a fit of rage, I'm naked. I slowly stand, my head shaking, feeling as though I'm on a sideways spiral ready to hit the floor. I touch my head and check my face, my nose is broken, as though snapped in two. Mav did this. THE FUCKING BASTARD. I storm my way to the door of my room, but it is locked. I bang on it as hard as I can, there's a few startled nurses, staring at my junk, covering their eyes, one of them rushes to the door. She unlocks it and immediately covers my junk with a towel before turning me back around and guiding me to my bed.
Mr Swann, you have a serious concussion, please get back into your bed! Oh and next time, put something on!
She lifts the covers back up and directs me to lie back into the bed, I shake my head.
YES SIR!
The nurse is appalled and startled. What, I didn't say that. Yes you did. NO NOT AGAIN, SWANN! Oh, yes again Swann. Hehehehe. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD. Make me. I bang my head with my fist. GAHHHHHHH FUCKKKKK! What the fuck was that for, Swann?! My ears are ringing now! Good man, you did the best thing. Hurt yourself again, I dare ya. The nurse shrieks in horror, she grabs my fist and calls for help, a few more nurses and doctors come rushing into the room, restraining me from hitting my concussed head again. What a bitch. She's trying to help you. I DON'T NEED HELP. YES YOU DO.
GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME.
She responds, shouting over the grunts of medics trying to save me from hurting myself some more.
Please Mr. Swann, you're confused. For the love of God, Let us help you!
I finally let go from fighting. Fucking pussy. Shuttup. I lay back down into my bed and stare up at the ceiling, my ears are heavily ringing. That's because you punched yourself, you fucking idiot. But you made me do it! I AM YOU. I can no longer here the nurses and the doctors, I've zoned out, my eyesight is fuzzy. I'm lost. I'm confused. Help me.
Wakey, wakey lover boy! It's a new day! You're still in my head? I've always been in your head, Swannie, it's just that concussion really let me out, I guess. I wake up and am still in the hospital bed, cords attached to my arm again. Oh shit. IT'S BOBBY BARRATT. Hey, it's your boyfriend! Hehehehe. Fuck off, he's my mentor. I say as I look up at him, he's smiling looking down at me, the nurse is speaking to him but I can't quite understand what they're saying. He nods his hand and I focus back into the world. He's speaking. I finally understand him.
Hey. Hey, Swann.
I blink a few times and he smirks at my acknowledge of his presence, he has something in his hand. I think it's his Icon's jacket. Of course it is you fucking idiot, why else would he would be carrying a jacket? He's Bobby Barratt for fuck's sake! You're mesmerized by him aren't you? Who isn't? I murmur something, not a real sentence or any words, but he smiles knowing I'm able to at least talk.
Look man, there's a conspiracy going on within the Icons. Not sure what it is, but it's there. I'm worried about Jack and Mav, at the moment it feels like two versus one. I need you man.
I'm confused. When's Bobby ever needed me? Right now, you dumbshit. Well, duh, but I mean in the past. Who cares, he needs you Swann, that's amazing! He's using you. No he isn't! He will. NO HE WON'T.
Hehehehe.
Bobby is taken back, that's not the response he was hoping to get. I continue to cackle in my bed as his face goes red with fear at the sight of me. He takes the nurse to the corner of the room, where I struggle to hear. I see him motion the "cockooo" sign with his hands, she shrugs as though she's not sure. They're talking about if your insane mate. But, I'm not insane. PAHAHAHAHA, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?! I said, I'm NOT insane. Reality check bud, you're talking to yourself, having arguments with yourself, and beating yourself up, which is basically self harm. Now tell me, are you insane? I'm insane. Noooooo you're notttt... Yes I am. GOOD! Hehehehehe. Bobby walks back over to me, his face concerned, a little bit of a fake smile.
Welcome to the team kid.
He hands me the jacket on the bed. I finally have it! I'm finally an Icon! Weren't you an Icon already? No? Brad Swann: Chapter Three... You said, and I quote from you, who is me, so I quote from myself, "No more Protege, for now, I see fit to be called an Icon.". Mate you're already an Icon. Oh shut-up, I wasn't an official one. Oooooh, sorry, look at you hard man. He smiles at me before looking back at the nurse.
Look, I have to go. It'll be great having ya. You, uh, deserve it.
I cackle.
Hehehehehe.
He is super confused and freaked out, he just shakes his head and leaves. Well done, you scared him off! Who fucking cares, I'm an OFFICIAL Icon. The doctor comes up to me and releases the cords from my arm, she reluctantly smiles at me as I stare her down.
You're cleared to go home. Take it easy now. If you hurry up, you might catch up with your mate.
I smile with pure glee, she passes me some spare jogging bottoms, then offers me a shirt, but I decline. I take the jogging bottoms, put on my official Brad Swann Icon's jacket, and exit through the door, out the lobby of the Hospital and step outside into the open world. I'm free. Oh fuck off with your "I'm free" sob story. Hehehehe.
Look at that suit, it's to die for! I say as I stare at a luxurious white suit in the shop window. The black rims and edges compliment the white texture of suit's body so well. It's beautiful. Buy it. But it's too much. Do it. No, I don't need to, I've got this new Icon Jacket. The Icons are evolving, you'll look so fine in that suit, you'll stand out so well. Nah, I can't, it's too expensive. Who gives a fuck, you're Brad Swann, the Icon Prot-. I AM NO LONGER THE PROTEGE! Hmm, you sure? Yes, Bobby made me an Icon! But you're Icon jacket says Protege on it? It does? Yes, have a look at it. I look down at the Jacket, it actually does. What the fuck. I know right! I want it removed! Just buy the suit. Hmmm. Buy it. But-. NOW.
---
Damn, I look fine as... I say as I admire the beauty of the suit in the mirro- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?! I have a scar running down my right eye, what the actual fuck, when did that get there?! Was that Diamond's doing?! Maverick's even?! Raymond's?! It looks so fucking... Cool. Hehehehe. I like it. Heck, might even add a white contact to the right eye and I'll look so badass! Now back to the suit... You look great. I know I do. So then, no more Protege? Nope, I'm more like a... a... Hmmmm. What's wrong?
Nothing. It's just, I- I feel like... Like I'm a Prince. Like I was always born to wear this... You're crazy. I know I am. Not saying it's a bad thing. What do you mean? Well, like, sometimes being crazy loosens you, makes you free. I- I guess. You are a Prince. I am a Prince... I'm... I'm... I'M THE ICONIC PRINCE! Hehehehehe, has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Sure does. You're the heir to the Icon Dynasty, Swann. I know I am. Did we just agree on something? I think we did. WE are the Iconic Prince, Swann. Yes we are. Hehehehe.
Now then, you buying the suit? I think I am. Good man.
From now on, Brad Swann the Protege is DEAD. Yes, yes he is.
It's all about Brad Swann, the Iconic Prince. Hehehehe.
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
I, Brad Swann, sit in my royal rocking chair, primed with velvet cloth richer than any material bestowed upon the type of chair before it. In my hand, a glass of France's best wine, from the catacombs of Paris, no less. I twiddle it around in my fingers and take a whiff of the spicy scent, breathing it in slowly, and exhaling even slower. A fire crackles and spits embers in the background, the mood is calmful, peaceful almost.
You Bruce McClane, are Ozymandias. A power so strong and mighty, who's very statue stands with vast and trunkless legs of stone, yet empty and nothing more than a distant memory. Near you, is your head, not attached to your powerful body. See Bruce, that summarizes you perfectly, your head and body aren't one with each other, they're two contrasting ideas. Your head is patriotic, fun and loving, your body is strong, harmful and destructive. Your mind speaks with zen, your body speaks with sheer force. That's why one lies in the desert stand, and the other stands half empty upon it. You, McClane, are a mess.
I cackle in my fancy rocking chair, taking a sip from my rich wine and twiddling my fingers about the collar of my luxurious suit. My laugh is hollow, echoing through the well-dressed room. I stop laughing. My face serious. Concerned.
Aw, poor Brucey boy. Why do you have to be like this? No one likes a mess of a man. No one likes people who are... DIFFERENT.
I cackle some more, the chair rocking wildly as I do so.
See Brucey boy, I used to be JUSTTTTTT like you, I did. I WAS a mess. But not anymore. Hehehehe. I saved myself Brucey boy. Now, I will save you. I will make the mind and body one again, I will crush your patriotism, fun and love, I will stamp and spit on it, rip it into a thousand pieces, STAB IT WITH A KNIFE, CHOP OFF IT'S SMOOTH EDGES AND BURN IT... until nothing more than DESTRUCTION remains. Hehehehehe. THEN, and only THEN, will you be at peace Brucey boy. I'm a Prince of the people, you see. I'm here for you, Brucey boy...
I'M HERE FOR YOU!
HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!
I'm angry.
I smile.
