”D” - Patience, heart, and soul.
Jun 2, 2019 17:05:06 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jun 2, 2019 17:05:06 GMT -5
The sun had long ago set, the lights of Ibiza cast a pale hue at his back. He steadies himself, reaching back his hands find a container to aid his grip. Rising above the brief cloud of chalk, he inches closer and closer to his goal.
Stone by stone, he was a shadow drifting slowly toward the sky. The light breeze kept his body cool while his mind was ablaze.
Seemingly random thoughts drifted to and from his mind; it was never ‘left hand hold’, ‘right foot’, the mechanics of his current task were second nature.
Tracking his prey hadn’t been particularly difficult either, both of his current foes shared at least one trait. One common amongst the powerful; they never hid.
Still, he knew it wasn’t a matter of if, they would stay at…but which one of old castles his target would be occupying. The sheer ease by which everything came together left him uneasy.
The several story fall that awaited him should he make an error aside, things were not good within his soul.
Hard work had brought him to the brink, sometimes it just wasn’t enough to work hard. Sometimes you need an edge.
A crooked referee, outside interference or sometimes, just a little luck. Disappointment had led to frustration, which brought us to where we found ourselves at the conclusion of Anarchy Forty-Eight.
Anger. Setting things right was all that he could think of. Even now as he scaled his way foot by foot toward another in a long series of decisions he would likely come to regret.
He would not see those who effectively cost him his chance at redemption profit from it.
Eddie Williams would not get HIS chance. On the off chance that Havok was the beneficiary of a random heart attack on Shane Mitchell’s part, he couldn’t allow Eddie the opportunity. Not while there was unfinished business between them.
The old world craftsmanship of the wall he scaled wasn’t lost on him, reaching a stylistic outcropping of brick, having a sure hold allowed him a moment to look out across the city.
He remembered everything since Masquerade, from choking out Mitchell following the match all the way to being dragged from the ring as he watched the remaining EMTs tend to his fallen fiancée in the closing moments of Anarchy Forty-Eight.
The cameras didn’t show him desperately trying to get to Alyssa, or him practically screaming her name as he was finally pulled backstage to be removed from the arena.
The cameras didn’t show him waiting at the hospital as she was examined. The enigma having to show grainy YouTube footage of what happened to the triage nurse to avoid police involvement despite Alyssa remaining adamant that it really was an accident.
Did this stranger really believe he was the type to strike his partner?
The war waging within his mind wasn’t unlike his current task. Under siege by darkness, he looked down briefly; one slip and it would be all over. Hell, just let go. Let go and allow it all to fall away with him.
The pain, the self doubt, the constant struggle he was under as of late to simply carry on. No, the easy way out would always be there.
No one wants this, least of all him. Mitchell couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he? Surely they all sense the coming darkness. No. The monster should be kept in it’s cage. Everyone is safer that way. Everyone.
Mitchell shouldn’t have made it personal, Havok shouldn’t have come out, so many would now have to suffer just to appease the darkness. Surely Mitchell was beginning to understand what he was dealing with? Would the former reverend let his curiosity begin to consume his mind?
Such behaviour was dangerous, the last person to truly get into Mitchell’s headspace ended up dead. ‘D’ wasn’t sure he was ready for that type of commitment. He had other things left to accomplish.
A destiny to fulfill.
A tale left to end.
A journey to finish.
His muscles burned as his pulled himself up with a practised control that would have made even the gymnast within Andi Snow proud.
Perched upon the stone windowsill, precious little light made it beyond the darkness extending beyond his physical form. The blood red satin sheets clung to the curves of her body. He watched her chest rise and fall with each breath, he could almost feel the heat emanating from her body. Even the darkness couldn’t hide her beauty.
And it disgusted him.
Despite clearly being at a tactical disadvantage, Esmeralda doesn’t kiss a beat, “You had either better be coming to for sex or to be killed, dahling. There's little room for middle ground.” Writhing beneath the sheets, she’s clear hoping the former to be the cause of such a late night visit.
Stepping down from windowsill, he stepped through the moonlit room without making a sound.
She couldn’t hide her smile as he crawled across the bed, only a satin sheet between them. Grabbing her by the wrists he leans in, ”I’m not your ‘champion’.” Before letting go.
Now it was her turn. Placing her hands behind his head, she pulled his braided hair just a little, pulling him close to purr in his ear. ”Oh…but you could be Dahling, you could be.” He could feel every hair on his body stand on end. “Is that what all of this is about?”
Peering into her eyes, it wasn’t hard to see how many men had fallen for her ‘charm’. If Alyssa and their eventual nuptials weren’t enough, Esmeralda was the one woman on the planet he would never willingly bed. “No. I’m here because of Murdock. Why Murdock? Of anyone on the roster, why him?”
Rolling off the clearly disappointed current RSW CEO, ’D’ stand beside her bed. Chuckling, she had almost believed his performance for a moment. All this trouble, for a match? For Steve Murdock?
Murdock was nothing to her, a pawn, an instrument to inflict more punishment upon her chosen victim. The casual nature of her voice would lead a normal person to believe she often entertained strange men climbing through her window at all hours of the night, ”Normally dahling, I would tell you that I needn’t explain myself to the likes of you. It perhaps ask you why does a viper bite it’s prey, because it is what it does.”
That was as fair a defence as she would ever issue. She did want she did because it was what she did
”You must be ready to do what it takes to be champion. These emotions you wear in your sleeve, they hold you back. I only want what's best for you. I always have dahling.” Reaching toward a nightstand buried in the shadows, her near trademarked cigarette holder appears.
A flash of light from a wooden match matches the fire in her eyes, ”Pandemonium's main event will be the best ever. No matter the cost, dahling. No matter the cost.”
She was toying with him, yet there seemed to be a warning ticked just below the surface of her words. She was using, not just his present with Alyssa to torture him, but now she employed his past as well.
Genesis represented just that, the beginning of all that had brought him here. Steve Murdock had been as much a part of that time as any on the roster.
A hardcore wrestler; Steve Murdock became synonymous with a title the enigma had once held himself. The Genesis Daredevil Championship.
Tables, ladders, chairs, steel cages, cells, scaffolds, fire, explosions. None of it was off limits.
Through it’s shared history through the Sinclair Family, Global Wrestling Federation and Gate City Wrestling…Genesis as a forefather to Riot Star Wrestling could likely be attributed as the beginning of the wild stipulations that led to PT Merciless being thrown into a river. That led to Riot, Merciless and Cardone blowing up the original RSW Headquarters. The war between Morcant Davis and Garmr, the Pure Order…all of it.
All of it could be traced back to one moment; Steve Murdock and Caedmon Prior. A match that may never have truly ended. But one that was clearly not lost. Every time RSW fans and Tommy Onions saw just how far mere men would go in their quest to become Gods, Steve Murdock and Caedmon Prior deserved thanks.
Yet, Murdock had not reached the heights of Christian King, Jason Speck or Thunderstrike Kid before they burnt out. He didn’t plot an endless series of returns like Kintaru. Much like the enigma himself, Murdock seemed to fight because that was what he knew. The only peace he found was inside the ring.
Drawing one more barb to hook him with, Esmeralda’s words are preceded by a blast of smoke that would make any dragon jealous, ”He blames you, you know?” Allowing a moment for ’D’ to run the expected questions through his mind, she enlightens him. ”Herr Murdock seems to believe he recent loss was the result of your ’friendship’ with Fraulein Snow. After all, you are just friends ja.”
She had clearly struck a nerve, besieged on all sides he was near his limit. The constant prodding of Esmeralda wore at his patience. The constant doubting of Alyssa tore at his heart. The constant of Shane Mitchell eroded his very soul.
A simple act of kindness had come back to haunt him time and time again. On the surface he and Miss Snow had little in common. Their upbringings, athletic backgrounds, appearances…as individuals were concerned, they couldn’t have been further apart.
Yet, as much as it pained him, there was a connection. Perhaps it were as simple as the enigma knowing all too well how it felt to be judged upon your past and not your present. Perhaps it was more, the reminder of all things piling up in his life sent a chill through his voice, ”You and your champion do not want this. If what little restraint I retain gives way, it will not matter how much respect I have for my opponent. Or hatred.” Clearly pointing the later part if his response toward the acting RSW CEO and her apparent chosen champion and lover, they couldn’t truly wish for him to become that which he had spent all this time ensuring was locked away for good, could they?
Murdock had been one of a few who had bore witness to what came before. The last time the enigma fell into darkness. ”It will not matter that there are years of history. It will not matter that it was I who brought him to Riot Star Wrestling. All that will matter is that he stands between me and what is rightfully mine.”
Last time, he didn’t know how to deal with it. Age and inexperience caused him to handle it poorly. In turn it manifested as ’Black’, a separate persona that eventually led to his disappearance. One that led to his darkness.
”Murdock will fight. He will throw everything he has at me, at the fight. Because that is all he knows. All I know Esmeralda, is pain.”
His warning was having the opposite effect on his audience. The pain, the passion in his word only served to excite her, tempt her. She would see him fall. The darkened angel would don his leathery wings once more.
”If you make me do this, pain will be all that comes of it. For me, for Murdock…but also for you…your champion…and anything you should choose to hold dear.”
Finishing, he immediately started back toward the window prompting one final jab, ”Oh…and do use the stairs this time. The guards will just assume you’re my latest…ahhh companion, we’ll call it. Good night dahling, please leave a lady to her beauty rest.”
Practically growling to himself, he found himself walking past the window and toward the door.
As it shut behind him she smiled before running her hands beneath the satin to pleasure herself. Pressing herself into the mattress, her toes curled. They wouldn’t have to wait much longer now. Soon he would break.
