The Unholy Blues (The Cure EOD RP #2)
Oct 26, 2019 21:21:18 GMT -5
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Post by MYŌJIN on Oct 26, 2019 21:21:18 GMT -5
The familiar vampire paced back and forth, running a hand through his dark with widened, enraged eyes. His teeth gritted, as he mumbled under his breath. "Brad Swann- That incompetent bastard!" He growled, his tongue sharp with every syllable. That tag match… Swann seemingly forgetting all the years of training and experience he had, too busy bragging in that behemoth's face..And then.. Caffrey, oh- He had Caffrey! Dare he say, he also would have been able to win that tag team match if it weren't for Swann being an absolute moron. Then again, he did walk out due to frustration- But Draven had already seen the writing on the wall. It was better to let Swann suffer for his mistakes than put up a useful fight, that was more like one versus two instead of two versus two. He kept pacing, mumbling incoherent but obviously angered words to himself.
Meanwhile, Drago Santiago was simply just watching him do so. Seemingly with a little bit of surprise. The Surgeon of Death had never seen Draven act in such a manner. He had always seemed cool and collected, though this time- The vampiric prince seemed to be having a tantrum in front of him.
"Vic." He started carefully, raising an eyebrow.
"If only Swann would have been paying attention..!" Draven continued.
"Vic." Drago started again, albeit a bit irritated. Though Draven seemed to still. He talking to himself as his clenched fists shaked violently, his rage ever growing as his eyes seemed to go more feral,until the vampire outright bit himself- specifically in the area between his thumb and index finger. His face briefly twisted in pain, yet st the same time.. It had seemed to work, much to Drago's confusion. Pain had always been Draven's callback to reality, and once he had that certain sense from his nerves telling him that he had been damaged physically- He calmed down, his racing and upset mind slowly came to a stop until eventually- The odd, but cool-headed Vincent Draven came back to the surface as he pulled his bloodied hand from his sharp toothed mouth, wiping the crimson liquid from his lips softly with the other.
"...Yes, Nathaniel?" The pale, gothic man finally answered his stablemate in a calm and quiet voice. His red eyes slowly focusing on the other in a slightly unsettling manner that would basically remind anyone of a serial killer.
"You know.. That Dreadvan guy? He was something else." Drago began to speak, placing a hand to his chin- As if he hadn't witnessed Draven nearly snapping right in front of him. "He eats hits like its nothing, and that strength is unquestionable." He noted casually, thinking to himself. "What if w-"
"I would have had Caffrey if it weren't for the factors against me in that match! If it weren't for my partner suddenly losing his senses and if Caffrey hadn't hidden behind that damned Demon the entire time, there's no doubt I would have WON!" Draven shouted, getting worked up some more as he glared.
Drago blinked, he hadn't even been given a chance to finish his sentence, though considering the reaction of the vampire already - He figured it was best if he eased Draven into the conversation.
"What if… we.. tried to recruit Dreadvan to our cause?"
"No." Draven firmly replied, his jaw tightening as he pointed a finger towards Drago. "I don't EVER want that atrocious embodiment of gluttony near me, I don't even want to see the sight of his grotesque face!" He quickly responded like a child would.
"Draven.." Drago began carefully. Running a hand through his short hair as he stared at the gothic enigma. "Think. About. It. With someone like him on our side, what could go wrong? He's big, he's strong, maybe not too smart but he makes up for that with the way he beats the hell out of people. He held that European Championship longer than Caffrey has held the Undisputed one for a reason. A good one at that. He's one serious powerhouse and he helps cover all our bases. We're going to need someone like him in the long run if we want to keep this going. You're good, I'm good, but with a guy like him? We'll be exceptional."
Draven sharply exhaled, turning away from his stablemate for a few moments. Calling his feelings about this reluctant would be such an understatement, and Drago could see that.
The tattooed man rolled his eyes. "Draven- You're the one always keeping your fucking head in the game, and you're telling me you see no benefits from this? C'mon, stop taking it so… personal and think from a logical standpoint!"
Draven paused, taking a few moments before sighing with irritation. "Fine, fine! We'll SCOUT him out and THEN we'll see if he's really worth my time and effort."
Drago wore the faintest grin, he knew he had won him over. "Trust me, Vic. He will be. Who knows? Maybe if you loosen up a little bit, you'll grow fond of him- Or even cooperate well."
The vampire scoffed. "That'll be the day."
-We cut to a dive of an eating establishment. The type of place only truckers and the homeless would ever dare enter. Filling up an entire booth and then some is a monster of a man. The demon Dreadvan. Several plates are scattered about in from of him. Some of them full of food, others nearly clean after the assault this monstrosity made on them. Like as if they were licked clean. Not a morsel left behind.
The demon continues his usual eating habits as a waitress draws near. She asks the big man politely if that will be all. Dread continues to scarf down morsel after morsel not even phased by their presence. They ask again, this time with a more cutting voice, perhaps a bit irritated by this whole scene. Dreadvan is mid lick, plate between his hands as he turns to her. He throws the platter against a wall.-
“DAMNIT YOU JUST DON’T GET IT DO YOU, OF COURSE I WANT MORE. KEEP GRILLING THAT BACON. KEEP FRYING THOSE EGGS AND I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU AREN’T TOASTING MORE TOAST”
-The poor waitress just bows her head asking for forgiveness. She rushes off and pleads with the only on duty chef to keep everything coming. She suspects something is majorly wrong, but the man’s intimidating presence is enough to keep it all in line. The cooks mumbled under their breath that they do not get paid enough for this and they throw on several more eggs and slabs of meat.
As if by some divine coincidence, the door opens wide and two figures step inside. The rest of the place is focused on the man engorging himself, but he clearly looks up. A sixth sense screaming at him internally to get ready. A fight was right on his doorstep.
Drago, the tattooed one nodded towards Draven, both pale slender figures. They both slowly turned to Dreadvan. He wasn"y really that hard to miss. Especially considering he was also an obnoxious eater. The vampire turned back to Drago for a few moments.. and then nodded. They both dashed towards the demon quickly as Draven goes for the neck with his fangs, but… he can't really get any good penetration. Drago reached Dreadvan's fingers but, again, a bit too thick to really start bending it the other way.
After a few moments of struggling… The two let go. Drago turned to Draven, raising an eyebrow. "Do you see what I mean?"
Draven blinked, running a hand through his dark hair. "...Okay, fine. Yes I do."
Drago and Draven sit on the other side of the booth now, They start jawning about the logistics of the Cure.-
Dreadvan laughs to himself, this is a bizarre situation. Draven, a man who was standing opposite the demon in the ring, was now in front of him asking to team up this time. Drago, a man Dreadvan has nearly no information about also there, saying how grand it would be to team up. Dread’s laughter of course masking his own uncertainty about the future. With AXW about to close he has no idea where his future lies and with this offer? It sounding more and more like Dreadvan’s escape.-
“So you’re both meaning to tell me that I can be an asset to all this? I’m flattered, but despite my looks I’m no ones fool. I’m not a tool. Tell me, what’s in it for me?"
The demon scrubs his massive hand against his several chins seemingly in contemplation. He already, in his small heart, knows the answer, but loves to play these kind of scenes up for dramatic effect.
Drago announces his intent, but also his trust in his other Cure members. Promises of this time next month all the gold and glory, start the trash talk of the convicted. Demon and vampire talk for fun.
“So those losers, these idiots, think they can possibly enter the ring with a true Demon? Do they get there’s a vampire in the mix too? Maybe getting themselves locked up messed with their worldview. No matter how much they pretend to be the hardest people on the planet they will never be able to match the intensity and sheer determination of creatures of the night. What did you two even get locked up for? Did you steal some candy from the local general store? You sad and pathetic fools. You’re in way way way over your head.
Next you’re gonna tell us one body to your name is enough to send shivers down our spines. I don’t think you know anything about demons. We devour souls like yours, ones with conscious. You doubt what you’re doing or have done, but men like us? We embrace it. There is no redemption arc. There is no joy. There is simply action. The action we take? Decimating and destroying everyone in our wake.
It’s a cold fact of life, but it’s still a fact. Keeping running your mouths. Keep making excuses to those who are willing to listen. I’m sure you are just saying whatever the people you’ve arranged to deal with want to hear. But the cold hard truth is, we, The Cure make our own rules. We don’t bow down to the norms you work with. We’re way way above that. Hell, you might be so crazy to think you have a real shot in that ring. Sorry little guys, you stand no chance in hell.
It’s pretty sad too. Your whole world revolves around attoning for the mistakes you made in the past instead of owning and embracing them. You two are runners. While me and this vampire here? We’re embracers. We embrace the hatred, the loathing, the confusion we cause. Excuses don’t pay our bills, they don’t satisfy our hunger, and they certainly don’t frame our very beings.
You two are sad, pathetic, excuses for sentient life. The very undertones of society we often pass over as not worth the time of day. Take heed, we had pitied you. We have given you mercy. Because we aren’t just going to wipe you out, instead we will beat you in the most sportsmanlike fashion. On the grandest of stages. You think me working with a guy like Caffrey was decisive? It will be far worse for you two. It will mark the final night the convicted were anything more than jerks who negotiated their way into a title match.
You won’t even be mentioned in a greatest hits DVD of The Cure. You’re not special enough for that. Neither of you. In fact, the best you can hope for is a top ten youtube list of most embarrassing one sided matches. The Cure standing tall over you. So talk all you want. But be ready. Be ready to accept the fate you chose.
In fact? How dare you two? You’re both crazy. You can cry all you want about it not being fair to “not know what you’re up against” but guess what? You knew you were up against The Cure. You should have already known. What a damn joke."
"We're up against two ex-convicts who seemingly have this idea that they're going to be able to defeat us. The same two who haven't done anything remotely close to being relevant in a while. The two who hid and ran when they were given chances to a title shot before. Dreadvan's just about right, all you've given is an excuse after excuse after excuse. Why should I take them seriously if they've said the most generic thing they could?
'Oh, we have heart and determination! We're doing this for freedom and trust!' The trust and 'bond' you two have will not make up for your amateur abilities as wrestlers. You don't take these Tag Team belts seriously, it's clearly evident. After all, what are you exactly going to do if you did- hypothetically- Somehow win them? That is, besides losing them to some other team the next time you defend them. The Convicted is a sad, pathetic joke of two men who couldn't get hired anywhere else- so decided to become lackluster wrestlers to for some quick money.
So, while you continue to talk and say that you'll beat us and make it painful- We'll already be stumping a mudhole into you both on live television. You were doomed to fail from the very moment you gave us this challenge.
So, Eric Chronister and Aaron Ortiz. How much do you want these championships? Is it worth facing two people that absolutely couldn't care less about your well-being? Is it worth the humiliation which will send you back to the undercard of some insignificant promotion? I hope it is.
Because that's exactly what is going to happen."
Meanwhile, Drago Santiago was simply just watching him do so. Seemingly with a little bit of surprise. The Surgeon of Death had never seen Draven act in such a manner. He had always seemed cool and collected, though this time- The vampiric prince seemed to be having a tantrum in front of him.
"Vic." He started carefully, raising an eyebrow.
"If only Swann would have been paying attention..!" Draven continued.
"Vic." Drago started again, albeit a bit irritated. Though Draven seemed to still. He talking to himself as his clenched fists shaked violently, his rage ever growing as his eyes seemed to go more feral,until the vampire outright bit himself- specifically in the area between his thumb and index finger. His face briefly twisted in pain, yet st the same time.. It had seemed to work, much to Drago's confusion. Pain had always been Draven's callback to reality, and once he had that certain sense from his nerves telling him that he had been damaged physically- He calmed down, his racing and upset mind slowly came to a stop until eventually- The odd, but cool-headed Vincent Draven came back to the surface as he pulled his bloodied hand from his sharp toothed mouth, wiping the crimson liquid from his lips softly with the other.
"...Yes, Nathaniel?" The pale, gothic man finally answered his stablemate in a calm and quiet voice. His red eyes slowly focusing on the other in a slightly unsettling manner that would basically remind anyone of a serial killer.
"You know.. That Dreadvan guy? He was something else." Drago began to speak, placing a hand to his chin- As if he hadn't witnessed Draven nearly snapping right in front of him. "He eats hits like its nothing, and that strength is unquestionable." He noted casually, thinking to himself. "What if w-"
"I would have had Caffrey if it weren't for the factors against me in that match! If it weren't for my partner suddenly losing his senses and if Caffrey hadn't hidden behind that damned Demon the entire time, there's no doubt I would have WON!" Draven shouted, getting worked up some more as he glared.
Drago blinked, he hadn't even been given a chance to finish his sentence, though considering the reaction of the vampire already - He figured it was best if he eased Draven into the conversation.
"What if… we.. tried to recruit Dreadvan to our cause?"
"No." Draven firmly replied, his jaw tightening as he pointed a finger towards Drago. "I don't EVER want that atrocious embodiment of gluttony near me, I don't even want to see the sight of his grotesque face!" He quickly responded like a child would.
"Draven.." Drago began carefully. Running a hand through his short hair as he stared at the gothic enigma. "Think. About. It. With someone like him on our side, what could go wrong? He's big, he's strong, maybe not too smart but he makes up for that with the way he beats the hell out of people. He held that European Championship longer than Caffrey has held the Undisputed one for a reason. A good one at that. He's one serious powerhouse and he helps cover all our bases. We're going to need someone like him in the long run if we want to keep this going. You're good, I'm good, but with a guy like him? We'll be exceptional."
Draven sharply exhaled, turning away from his stablemate for a few moments. Calling his feelings about this reluctant would be such an understatement, and Drago could see that.
The tattooed man rolled his eyes. "Draven- You're the one always keeping your fucking head in the game, and you're telling me you see no benefits from this? C'mon, stop taking it so… personal and think from a logical standpoint!"
Draven paused, taking a few moments before sighing with irritation. "Fine, fine! We'll SCOUT him out and THEN we'll see if he's really worth my time and effort."
Drago wore the faintest grin, he knew he had won him over. "Trust me, Vic. He will be. Who knows? Maybe if you loosen up a little bit, you'll grow fond of him- Or even cooperate well."
The vampire scoffed. "That'll be the day."
-We cut to a dive of an eating establishment. The type of place only truckers and the homeless would ever dare enter. Filling up an entire booth and then some is a monster of a man. The demon Dreadvan. Several plates are scattered about in from of him. Some of them full of food, others nearly clean after the assault this monstrosity made on them. Like as if they were licked clean. Not a morsel left behind.
The demon continues his usual eating habits as a waitress draws near. She asks the big man politely if that will be all. Dread continues to scarf down morsel after morsel not even phased by their presence. They ask again, this time with a more cutting voice, perhaps a bit irritated by this whole scene. Dreadvan is mid lick, plate between his hands as he turns to her. He throws the platter against a wall.-
“DAMNIT YOU JUST DON’T GET IT DO YOU, OF COURSE I WANT MORE. KEEP GRILLING THAT BACON. KEEP FRYING THOSE EGGS AND I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU AREN’T TOASTING MORE TOAST”
-The poor waitress just bows her head asking for forgiveness. She rushes off and pleads with the only on duty chef to keep everything coming. She suspects something is majorly wrong, but the man’s intimidating presence is enough to keep it all in line. The cooks mumbled under their breath that they do not get paid enough for this and they throw on several more eggs and slabs of meat.
As if by some divine coincidence, the door opens wide and two figures step inside. The rest of the place is focused on the man engorging himself, but he clearly looks up. A sixth sense screaming at him internally to get ready. A fight was right on his doorstep.
Drago, the tattooed one nodded towards Draven, both pale slender figures. They both slowly turned to Dreadvan. He wasn"y really that hard to miss. Especially considering he was also an obnoxious eater. The vampire turned back to Drago for a few moments.. and then nodded. They both dashed towards the demon quickly as Draven goes for the neck with his fangs, but… he can't really get any good penetration. Drago reached Dreadvan's fingers but, again, a bit too thick to really start bending it the other way.
After a few moments of struggling… The two let go. Drago turned to Draven, raising an eyebrow. "Do you see what I mean?"
Draven blinked, running a hand through his dark hair. "...Okay, fine. Yes I do."
Drago and Draven sit on the other side of the booth now, They start jawning about the logistics of the Cure.-
Dreadvan laughs to himself, this is a bizarre situation. Draven, a man who was standing opposite the demon in the ring, was now in front of him asking to team up this time. Drago, a man Dreadvan has nearly no information about also there, saying how grand it would be to team up. Dread’s laughter of course masking his own uncertainty about the future. With AXW about to close he has no idea where his future lies and with this offer? It sounding more and more like Dreadvan’s escape.-
“So you’re both meaning to tell me that I can be an asset to all this? I’m flattered, but despite my looks I’m no ones fool. I’m not a tool. Tell me, what’s in it for me?"
The demon scrubs his massive hand against his several chins seemingly in contemplation. He already, in his small heart, knows the answer, but loves to play these kind of scenes up for dramatic effect.
Drago announces his intent, but also his trust in his other Cure members. Promises of this time next month all the gold and glory, start the trash talk of the convicted. Demon and vampire talk for fun.
“So those losers, these idiots, think they can possibly enter the ring with a true Demon? Do they get there’s a vampire in the mix too? Maybe getting themselves locked up messed with their worldview. No matter how much they pretend to be the hardest people on the planet they will never be able to match the intensity and sheer determination of creatures of the night. What did you two even get locked up for? Did you steal some candy from the local general store? You sad and pathetic fools. You’re in way way way over your head.
Next you’re gonna tell us one body to your name is enough to send shivers down our spines. I don’t think you know anything about demons. We devour souls like yours, ones with conscious. You doubt what you’re doing or have done, but men like us? We embrace it. There is no redemption arc. There is no joy. There is simply action. The action we take? Decimating and destroying everyone in our wake.
It’s a cold fact of life, but it’s still a fact. Keeping running your mouths. Keep making excuses to those who are willing to listen. I’m sure you are just saying whatever the people you’ve arranged to deal with want to hear. But the cold hard truth is, we, The Cure make our own rules. We don’t bow down to the norms you work with. We’re way way above that. Hell, you might be so crazy to think you have a real shot in that ring. Sorry little guys, you stand no chance in hell.
It’s pretty sad too. Your whole world revolves around attoning for the mistakes you made in the past instead of owning and embracing them. You two are runners. While me and this vampire here? We’re embracers. We embrace the hatred, the loathing, the confusion we cause. Excuses don’t pay our bills, they don’t satisfy our hunger, and they certainly don’t frame our very beings.
You two are sad, pathetic, excuses for sentient life. The very undertones of society we often pass over as not worth the time of day. Take heed, we had pitied you. We have given you mercy. Because we aren’t just going to wipe you out, instead we will beat you in the most sportsmanlike fashion. On the grandest of stages. You think me working with a guy like Caffrey was decisive? It will be far worse for you two. It will mark the final night the convicted were anything more than jerks who negotiated their way into a title match.
You won’t even be mentioned in a greatest hits DVD of The Cure. You’re not special enough for that. Neither of you. In fact, the best you can hope for is a top ten youtube list of most embarrassing one sided matches. The Cure standing tall over you. So talk all you want. But be ready. Be ready to accept the fate you chose.
In fact? How dare you two? You’re both crazy. You can cry all you want about it not being fair to “not know what you’re up against” but guess what? You knew you were up against The Cure. You should have already known. What a damn joke."
"We're up against two ex-convicts who seemingly have this idea that they're going to be able to defeat us. The same two who haven't done anything remotely close to being relevant in a while. The two who hid and ran when they were given chances to a title shot before. Dreadvan's just about right, all you've given is an excuse after excuse after excuse. Why should I take them seriously if they've said the most generic thing they could?
'Oh, we have heart and determination! We're doing this for freedom and trust!' The trust and 'bond' you two have will not make up for your amateur abilities as wrestlers. You don't take these Tag Team belts seriously, it's clearly evident. After all, what are you exactly going to do if you did- hypothetically- Somehow win them? That is, besides losing them to some other team the next time you defend them. The Convicted is a sad, pathetic joke of two men who couldn't get hired anywhere else- so decided to become lackluster wrestlers to for some quick money.
So, while you continue to talk and say that you'll beat us and make it painful- We'll already be stumping a mudhole into you both on live television. You were doomed to fail from the very moment you gave us this challenge.
So, Eric Chronister and Aaron Ortiz. How much do you want these championships? Is it worth facing two people that absolutely couldn't care less about your well-being? Is it worth the humiliation which will send you back to the undercard of some insignificant promotion? I hope it is.
Because that's exactly what is going to happen."
