I Will Torch You Alive (Storm RP #9/Rumble)
Apr 14, 2020 18:25:28 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer likes this
Post by ForeverKuroi on Apr 14, 2020 18:25:28 GMT -5
The scene fades in. The camera captures the wall to wall carpet of Michael Storm's house. There lies the broken glass of what used to be a lamp. The camera pans up to sneakers. Then black jeans. Then it shows all of Michael Storm with crimson blood coming from the back of his hand. Then it goes up to his eyes. As sharp as a needle. His mouth is agape. Then the camera cuts to where Michael Storm was staring at. A television screen. More so than that, the last few seconds of another XHF Network wrestler. More than that, a former multi-time X*Crown Champion. That man is...
Storm: Jack Diamond. You son of a bitch. You dare walk back into my life and call me out like that. You have a lot of balls, I'll give you that. Not a lot of wrestlers have even dreamed to have the gall of what you've just done, but here you are. Forcing me to acknowledge your existence.
The shot cuts to Michael Storm's bloody hand, trailing down like tears down an eye.
Storm: Looking back, I think I've repressed the memory. It could have been a self-defense mechanism for all I know. My mind recognizes your return and in order to protect me... No, to protect everyone else, to protect you, it pretends that it didn't exist. Have you ever looked at your phone to check the time and then immediately checked back because you realized that you didn't pay attention to what you just saw? It happens to a lot of people, Jack. And that's what my experience with you was. Lost time. Want to know how much lost time you are?
The shot cuts to Michael Storm's sharp, seemingly without pupil eye.
Storm: Eight months. Eight months of lost time. Eight months of dreaming without waking up. Eight months of existing without living. Eight months of life just flying past me. I'd say eight months of nothing, but things have happened, haven't they?
Silence fills the air. Silence filled with tension and filled with noise. Why, you can almost hear Michael Storm's heartbeat pounding from within his chest.
Storm: I've been the subject of a lot of bullshit and antics from Michael Clarke Duncan and Randy Angel. I've been thrown into some sort of Call of Destiny Match, which I somehow won - don't even bother asking me how that all came about. Oh... and I survived A MURDER FUCKING ATTEMPT FROM YOU!
And like that, with just the needed ounce of pressure needed onto the trigger, Michael Storm's fist moves like a bullet. It crashes into the image of Jack Diamond. The television cracks and breaks down, filled with the added sparks.
Storm: HOW FUCKING SAD IS IT TO BE YOU, JACK DIAMOND? YOU WON THE X*CROWN CHAMPIONSHIP ONLY TO LOSE IT A MONTH LATER TO ME. THEN YOU, BEING AS SAD OF A FUCKING HUMAN BEING AS YOU ARE, TRY TO MURDER ME IN COLD BLOOD! YET YOUR MURDER ATTEMPT IS MUCH LIKE YOUR ATTEMPT TO RETAIN THE X*CROWN CHAMPIONSHIP - YOU COME UP SHORT! YOU COULDN'T KILL ME, JACK. ONLY I COULD! BUT IF I SO MUCH AS SEE YOU IN THE RING, I WILL FUCKING TEAR YOU APART LIMB FROM LIMB AND LET THE LOWEST OF THE LOW CONSUME THE REMAINS. NOTHINGS LIKE JOHNNY SNIPER AND HAYDEN CALLAHAN WILL HAVE THEIR MOMENT TO SHINE AS THEY ELIMINATE THE CARCASS I LEFT BEHIND! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU MENTION MY NAME! SPEAK THE DEVIL'S NAME AND LET HIM APPEAR. I WILL FUCKING TORCH YOU ALIVE!
Michael's body nearly glows red as he spits his venom. His eyes are widen as he attempts in vain to breathe and collect himself.
Storm: My hatred for Chris Card is well known and publicized, but know this. It is only second for my hatred of you, Jack. Chris Card mocked me upon my fallen and nearly dead body. Your crime, however, is more egregious. I would not have died and I would not have fallen into a coma if you had forced me into this match. You could have bowed. You could have just given this championship to me, but instead you had to be the catalyst for my transformation. I didn't have to be a demon. I didn't have to be a visitor and denizen of hell. You turned me into this, Jack. You forced me to be this way. Now I have to thank you through shed blood.
Michael Storm is breathing heavily, each breath is like the first breath after near suffocation.
Storm: They say happiness is bliss. Oh dear God, you have no idea how true that is. I may not have been all butterflies and rainbow before. Hell, I may not have even been a happy person before I faced you, but I wasn't a gaping wound. Not like I am now. I didn't know the terrifying and painful truth that I relive everyday, that I relive every time I close my eyes. YOU did this to me, Jack. And to think that one of the most frustrating things about this is the fact that you have walked out with the win, even though that all the facts dictate otherwise.
Michael Storm is still trying to calm himself down. He paces around left to right, continually talking in the middle of this process.
Storm: You've failed to defeat me. You've failed to kill me. I've defeated and pinned you in the middle of the ring... Yet every time I look at that disgusting face of yours, my body's telling me differently. It's acting like you're winning. Like you're ahead. It's contrary to logic and opposite to reason and now I'm watching this piece of burning garbage that you consider a promo, and you're acting like you're my better. YOU REMEMBER THIS, YOU PIECE OF SHIT. I'VE BEATEN YOU. YOU'VE NEVER BEATEN ME! AND YOU NEVER WILL!
Michael Storm's baring this teeth. Like a rabid animal, he's ready to go for the kill at the slightest bit of provocation.
Storm: Finish the job?! Wasn't that what your mission was when you went to the hospital?! You had me, without the ability to do the least bit to protect myself, and you STILL couldn't get the job done!? So what the FUCK makes you think that you'll be able to take me down, fully alive, enhanced with the fires of hell!? HUH!? You couldn't defeat me the first time! You couldn't defeat me the second time! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THE THIRD PART WILL BE MY UNDOING, HUH!? BECAUSE THE THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM!? FUCKING TELL ME!
Michael Storm is staring at the television, the broken shattered television. Of course, the television is broken and as an inanimate object, it can't answer his questions.
Storm: But now I'm starting to question myself. I'm not right in the head. I'm admitting that. Now for all I know, my mind is tricking me. Maybe Jack Diamond didn't just make a promo against me. Maybe he has never come back to the AWF. Maybe he hasn't come back to the XHF Network. Maybe I'm all imagining this. Hell, for all I know, I'm still dead and everything that has happened has been the decaying consciousness leaving me before I return for hell. Maybe I'm still in hell and my new life in hell is to imagine you and to keep seeing you for the rest of eternity. For all I know, when I walk into the Rumble, there will be fifty or more other Jack Diamonds coming into the ring. That's fine. I'm fine with that. Even in hell, I'll be beating the shit out of multiple Jack Diamonds and even if I lose and you all overwhelm me, I'll know that you'll never be able to defeat me. Not on Earth, at least.
Michael Storm actually begins laughing. Out loud. Not a snicker or a chuckle. He's full out laughing. It may as well be one of those insane full out laughs that one would hear in a horror movie.
Storm: Jack Fucking Diamond. A loser in all respects. You can't defeat me. You've lost that Diamond lounge that you've held so near and dear to your heart. You've been shut out by your buddy, Bobby Barratt and left disgraced out of the XHF Network. You come back with a last ditch effort to bring back the disgraced Icons group, the same Icons group that hasn't done jack shit since you've come back. You come back here and act like you're worth a damn even though you've not earned a lick of the merit you claim to bestow. Fuck, you sound like the kid who does nothing on a group project but brag about getting that A. You're pathetic. Of course you're not worried about this Rumble. You know you're going to lose, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop this!
Michael Storm pauses. Not saying a word. His expression showing nothing but seriousness.
Storm: It's interesting. One of the pictures I see under your name at the XHFNetwork.com website while I was doing my research shows you. With horns. With eyes like the devil. You look like the devil in every way except for the fiery pitchfork and the red skin. It seems like at least a small piece of you accepts the terrible person that you are. It seems like at least you know that you're nothing but the luck that you leave behind. I mean, everyone knows you as the high stakes roll the dice kind of type. You put your chips in and place your belts for Red 32. And somehow you win. That's how you got accumulated your fortune, right? You're the living embodiment of sin, are you? You seem to be and this actually makes my job a little easier.
Michael Storm says nothing, allowing the fans to ponder before he explains himself.
Storm: I'll be going against Seth Dillinger's wishes to keep his name out of our mouths to explain something. Right before I showed Seth an evil that exists in us all, I told him I didn't want to hurt him. We had an ethical dilemma, he and I. And fuck, while it still exists today, I still didn't want to hurt him. I see Seth as the living example of what it means to be a good person. Or at least was. Sure, even before he went psycho over his boyfriend, Dennis, he was a drunk and party boy who turned his liver into a water-deprived desert. But he seemed to be a good person. He was about equality. Seth was about unity. He didn't know what he was a monster and I didn't want to teach him he was. It's a real shame that he forced my hand to teach him about the true nature of humanity.
Storm almost hangs his head down, displaying a sense of remorse about his XHF Supremacy match with him earlier on in the year.
Storm: I have no such qualms with you, You know full well who - or more aptly put - what you are, Jack. You're an egotist. You're a monster. You're a sinful pile of burning garbage that I wouldn't dare piss on in order to extinguish. You're lots of things and if you had it your way, you'd also be a murderer. But you're not. You cannot kill me. Not then. Not now. Not ever. Jack, you're going to lose, and that'll be the beginning. In fact, losing will be your salvation. You better fucking pray that I have a high number for the XHF Rumble, and that I show up late in the game. More than that, you better pray that you be eliminated before I show up. Just think about it...
Michael Storm stares forward. Not even blinking.
Storm: There aren't a lot of people in this match who hate you. No one hates you like I do. Think about it. Everyone just wants you gone. At most, they'll treat you like a wild elephant poached by trophy hunters. Everyone wants to be able to say that they've taken down a big animal. They just want to take you down. I want to cause you pain. Hell, I could even murder you and I won't think twice about it. I can't get you if you're not in the ring. So I'll say this very clearly so you can understand this. Listen up.
Michael Storm points his index finger back to him. He steps forward, making himself large and easy to see.
Storm: Stay out of the locker rooms. That's where I'll be. Stay out of my sight. Hire some bodyguards. A lot of them. You can afford it. Oh, and stay out of the ring. Better yet, just eliminate yourself if you hear my music play. Jack, I don't care about this match as much as I care about eliminating you from the ring or from professional wrestling. And believe me, I want the X*Crown Champion. Fuck, I DESERVE that X*Crown Championship since I destroyed you in the middle of that ring. My past with Chris Card shows I don't care about the health of people like you. If I disqualify you by disemboweling you, then that's how the cookie crumbles. I'll get my rematch. Jack Diamond, I don't want to look at you. I don't want to see you. I don't want to think about you. Hell, I don't even want to smell you.
Michael Storm bares his teeth one more time. His eyes big.
Storm: If I see you in the ring, I'm considering you food. I'll devour you whole, Jack. I'm going after blood and I will have you like the success you will have in the XHF Network this year. Rare.
Storm snarls as the camera pans down to his bloody arm as the scene fades to black.
Storm: Jack Diamond. You son of a bitch. You dare walk back into my life and call me out like that. You have a lot of balls, I'll give you that. Not a lot of wrestlers have even dreamed to have the gall of what you've just done, but here you are. Forcing me to acknowledge your existence.
The shot cuts to Michael Storm's bloody hand, trailing down like tears down an eye.
Storm: Looking back, I think I've repressed the memory. It could have been a self-defense mechanism for all I know. My mind recognizes your return and in order to protect me... No, to protect everyone else, to protect you, it pretends that it didn't exist. Have you ever looked at your phone to check the time and then immediately checked back because you realized that you didn't pay attention to what you just saw? It happens to a lot of people, Jack. And that's what my experience with you was. Lost time. Want to know how much lost time you are?
The shot cuts to Michael Storm's sharp, seemingly without pupil eye.
Storm: Eight months. Eight months of lost time. Eight months of dreaming without waking up. Eight months of existing without living. Eight months of life just flying past me. I'd say eight months of nothing, but things have happened, haven't they?
Silence fills the air. Silence filled with tension and filled with noise. Why, you can almost hear Michael Storm's heartbeat pounding from within his chest.
Storm: I've been the subject of a lot of bullshit and antics from Michael Clarke Duncan and Randy Angel. I've been thrown into some sort of Call of Destiny Match, which I somehow won - don't even bother asking me how that all came about. Oh... and I survived A MURDER FUCKING ATTEMPT FROM YOU!
And like that, with just the needed ounce of pressure needed onto the trigger, Michael Storm's fist moves like a bullet. It crashes into the image of Jack Diamond. The television cracks and breaks down, filled with the added sparks.
Storm: HOW FUCKING SAD IS IT TO BE YOU, JACK DIAMOND? YOU WON THE X*CROWN CHAMPIONSHIP ONLY TO LOSE IT A MONTH LATER TO ME. THEN YOU, BEING AS SAD OF A FUCKING HUMAN BEING AS YOU ARE, TRY TO MURDER ME IN COLD BLOOD! YET YOUR MURDER ATTEMPT IS MUCH LIKE YOUR ATTEMPT TO RETAIN THE X*CROWN CHAMPIONSHIP - YOU COME UP SHORT! YOU COULDN'T KILL ME, JACK. ONLY I COULD! BUT IF I SO MUCH AS SEE YOU IN THE RING, I WILL FUCKING TEAR YOU APART LIMB FROM LIMB AND LET THE LOWEST OF THE LOW CONSUME THE REMAINS. NOTHINGS LIKE JOHNNY SNIPER AND HAYDEN CALLAHAN WILL HAVE THEIR MOMENT TO SHINE AS THEY ELIMINATE THE CARCASS I LEFT BEHIND! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU MENTION MY NAME! SPEAK THE DEVIL'S NAME AND LET HIM APPEAR. I WILL FUCKING TORCH YOU ALIVE!
Michael's body nearly glows red as he spits his venom. His eyes are widen as he attempts in vain to breathe and collect himself.
Storm: My hatred for Chris Card is well known and publicized, but know this. It is only second for my hatred of you, Jack. Chris Card mocked me upon my fallen and nearly dead body. Your crime, however, is more egregious. I would not have died and I would not have fallen into a coma if you had forced me into this match. You could have bowed. You could have just given this championship to me, but instead you had to be the catalyst for my transformation. I didn't have to be a demon. I didn't have to be a visitor and denizen of hell. You turned me into this, Jack. You forced me to be this way. Now I have to thank you through shed blood.
Michael Storm is breathing heavily, each breath is like the first breath after near suffocation.
Storm: They say happiness is bliss. Oh dear God, you have no idea how true that is. I may not have been all butterflies and rainbow before. Hell, I may not have even been a happy person before I faced you, but I wasn't a gaping wound. Not like I am now. I didn't know the terrifying and painful truth that I relive everyday, that I relive every time I close my eyes. YOU did this to me, Jack. And to think that one of the most frustrating things about this is the fact that you have walked out with the win, even though that all the facts dictate otherwise.
Michael Storm is still trying to calm himself down. He paces around left to right, continually talking in the middle of this process.
Storm: You've failed to defeat me. You've failed to kill me. I've defeated and pinned you in the middle of the ring... Yet every time I look at that disgusting face of yours, my body's telling me differently. It's acting like you're winning. Like you're ahead. It's contrary to logic and opposite to reason and now I'm watching this piece of burning garbage that you consider a promo, and you're acting like you're my better. YOU REMEMBER THIS, YOU PIECE OF SHIT. I'VE BEATEN YOU. YOU'VE NEVER BEATEN ME! AND YOU NEVER WILL!
Michael Storm's baring this teeth. Like a rabid animal, he's ready to go for the kill at the slightest bit of provocation.
Storm: Finish the job?! Wasn't that what your mission was when you went to the hospital?! You had me, without the ability to do the least bit to protect myself, and you STILL couldn't get the job done!? So what the FUCK makes you think that you'll be able to take me down, fully alive, enhanced with the fires of hell!? HUH!? You couldn't defeat me the first time! You couldn't defeat me the second time! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THE THIRD PART WILL BE MY UNDOING, HUH!? BECAUSE THE THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM!? FUCKING TELL ME!
Michael Storm is staring at the television, the broken shattered television. Of course, the television is broken and as an inanimate object, it can't answer his questions.
Storm: But now I'm starting to question myself. I'm not right in the head. I'm admitting that. Now for all I know, my mind is tricking me. Maybe Jack Diamond didn't just make a promo against me. Maybe he has never come back to the AWF. Maybe he hasn't come back to the XHF Network. Maybe I'm all imagining this. Hell, for all I know, I'm still dead and everything that has happened has been the decaying consciousness leaving me before I return for hell. Maybe I'm still in hell and my new life in hell is to imagine you and to keep seeing you for the rest of eternity. For all I know, when I walk into the Rumble, there will be fifty or more other Jack Diamonds coming into the ring. That's fine. I'm fine with that. Even in hell, I'll be beating the shit out of multiple Jack Diamonds and even if I lose and you all overwhelm me, I'll know that you'll never be able to defeat me. Not on Earth, at least.
Michael Storm actually begins laughing. Out loud. Not a snicker or a chuckle. He's full out laughing. It may as well be one of those insane full out laughs that one would hear in a horror movie.
Storm: Jack Fucking Diamond. A loser in all respects. You can't defeat me. You've lost that Diamond lounge that you've held so near and dear to your heart. You've been shut out by your buddy, Bobby Barratt and left disgraced out of the XHF Network. You come back with a last ditch effort to bring back the disgraced Icons group, the same Icons group that hasn't done jack shit since you've come back. You come back here and act like you're worth a damn even though you've not earned a lick of the merit you claim to bestow. Fuck, you sound like the kid who does nothing on a group project but brag about getting that A. You're pathetic. Of course you're not worried about this Rumble. You know you're going to lose, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop this!
Michael Storm pauses. Not saying a word. His expression showing nothing but seriousness.
Storm: It's interesting. One of the pictures I see under your name at the XHFNetwork.com website while I was doing my research shows you. With horns. With eyes like the devil. You look like the devil in every way except for the fiery pitchfork and the red skin. It seems like at least a small piece of you accepts the terrible person that you are. It seems like at least you know that you're nothing but the luck that you leave behind. I mean, everyone knows you as the high stakes roll the dice kind of type. You put your chips in and place your belts for Red 32. And somehow you win. That's how you got accumulated your fortune, right? You're the living embodiment of sin, are you? You seem to be and this actually makes my job a little easier.
Michael Storm says nothing, allowing the fans to ponder before he explains himself.
Storm: I'll be going against Seth Dillinger's wishes to keep his name out of our mouths to explain something. Right before I showed Seth an evil that exists in us all, I told him I didn't want to hurt him. We had an ethical dilemma, he and I. And fuck, while it still exists today, I still didn't want to hurt him. I see Seth as the living example of what it means to be a good person. Or at least was. Sure, even before he went psycho over his boyfriend, Dennis, he was a drunk and party boy who turned his liver into a water-deprived desert. But he seemed to be a good person. He was about equality. Seth was about unity. He didn't know what he was a monster and I didn't want to teach him he was. It's a real shame that he forced my hand to teach him about the true nature of humanity.
Storm almost hangs his head down, displaying a sense of remorse about his XHF Supremacy match with him earlier on in the year.
Storm: I have no such qualms with you, You know full well who - or more aptly put - what you are, Jack. You're an egotist. You're a monster. You're a sinful pile of burning garbage that I wouldn't dare piss on in order to extinguish. You're lots of things and if you had it your way, you'd also be a murderer. But you're not. You cannot kill me. Not then. Not now. Not ever. Jack, you're going to lose, and that'll be the beginning. In fact, losing will be your salvation. You better fucking pray that I have a high number for the XHF Rumble, and that I show up late in the game. More than that, you better pray that you be eliminated before I show up. Just think about it...
Michael Storm stares forward. Not even blinking.
Storm: There aren't a lot of people in this match who hate you. No one hates you like I do. Think about it. Everyone just wants you gone. At most, they'll treat you like a wild elephant poached by trophy hunters. Everyone wants to be able to say that they've taken down a big animal. They just want to take you down. I want to cause you pain. Hell, I could even murder you and I won't think twice about it. I can't get you if you're not in the ring. So I'll say this very clearly so you can understand this. Listen up.
Michael Storm points his index finger back to him. He steps forward, making himself large and easy to see.
Storm: Stay out of the locker rooms. That's where I'll be. Stay out of my sight. Hire some bodyguards. A lot of them. You can afford it. Oh, and stay out of the ring. Better yet, just eliminate yourself if you hear my music play. Jack, I don't care about this match as much as I care about eliminating you from the ring or from professional wrestling. And believe me, I want the X*Crown Champion. Fuck, I DESERVE that X*Crown Championship since I destroyed you in the middle of that ring. My past with Chris Card shows I don't care about the health of people like you. If I disqualify you by disemboweling you, then that's how the cookie crumbles. I'll get my rematch. Jack Diamond, I don't want to look at you. I don't want to see you. I don't want to think about you. Hell, I don't even want to smell you.
Michael Storm bares his teeth one more time. His eyes big.
Storm: If I see you in the ring, I'm considering you food. I'll devour you whole, Jack. I'm going after blood and I will have you like the success you will have in the XHF Network this year. Rare.
Storm snarls as the camera pans down to his bloody arm as the scene fades to black.
