Post by SinclairGodfrey on May 29, 2021 12:50:26 GMT -5
The Past (years ago)
It a cold, rainy night in York, England when it all started. She was leaning against the old brick wall outside of the small arena, hand pressed against her face as she tried to hold back the tears. She had been humiliated and insulted, and beaten from pillar to post. Her body ached, and her mind raced. Should she give up? She should quit on her dreams, and return to the life she had known? Godfrey Hall was still there, as it had always been. She shook her head, staring into the darkness as she remembered.
Chelsea Howard, the NECW (Northern England Championship Wrestling) women's champion had called her out, and then beaten her in the center of the ring. Mercilessly pummeling the rookie before making her tap out. Sinclair's cheeks burned red, but what was worse was when her lackies had dragged her to her knees. Holding her there as Chelsea had slapped her, mocking her, and then saying: 'You should back to your bloody estate! You have no business in wrestling! You're nothing but trash!'
The crowd had cheered, and Sinclair had been dumped from the ring. She had held back her tears until she came outside, and now she was watching her dream die in the cold rain and fog of York. She sighed, wiping at her eyes before she turned back to the door. And then he stepped from the darkness.
The man was tall, and wore a leather jacket that looked like it had seen better days on his frame. Beneath it was a black suit, though he had ignored the tie it seemed. His hair was tied back, and he had a faint shadow of a beard. A cigar jutted from his mouth, gripped by his teeth as he exhaled a cloud of heavy smoke before he reached up to flick the ashes. Rolling his eyes at the 'no smoking' sign by the door, and then he gestured at her with the cigar. 'Hey, you're Sinclair Godfrey, right? From the match?'
American. He looked familiar, and she stared at him before nodding slowly. 'I am not doing autographs, I was trying to get some air.' She stared again as he nodded absently, taking another hit from the cigar. And then she blinked, snapping her fingers. 'Hold on! You're Donzig! From the CWA! What are you doing here, I thought you all left England.'
Donzig snorted, and exhaled another cloud of smoke. 'I go where I want. And I have always been fond of England, such great weather for brooding.'
Sinclair laughed, and pushed her wet hair back with a shrug. A nod, and she started to push the door open with a glance back at him. 'I wasn't brooding, but I think it is time I gave up.'
Donzig flicked his cigar away, and he waved a hand before he motioned her away from the door. And she stepped back, letting the door close as she looked up at him. 'No. Chelsea fucking Howard doesn't get to make you quit. You just need someone to train you, to take you to the next level. When the student is ready? The master appears.'
Sinclair blinked, and she glanced around before she gave a laugh. 'You can't be serious, you're going to train me? To what? Beat down Chelsea Howard and her minions in some little company in North England? Why?'
'Two reasons. I can see that you want to be the best, I can see you hunger for it, that what you want is victory. Domination, immortality, and to create a legacy. Such ambition should be rewarded.' Donzig paused, and he met her gaze before he shrugged again. 'The second reason? I might be a bastard, I might be cold and ruthless, and I might just be a bad guy. But I don't like fucking bullies.'
Sinclair blinked, and Donzig held a hand out as he stepped closer. She swallowed, and then placed her hand in his before they walked back inside.
The Past, Some Time Later....
Sinclair stepped onto the roof, shaking her hair back from her face as the wind snapped around it. It was a dark night, and she could see the clouds sweeping down on the city laden with rain. It would rain soon, it always did. And she looked around slowly before she saw Donzig standing near the ledge, his eyes on the city spread below them as he brooded. She rolled her eyes, tugging at the fight tape wrapped around her hands as she crossed to his side. He brooded alot, she had never met someone who spent so much time with their own thoughts as Donzig. He seemed to like being alone, thinking his dark thoughts and watching.
She had been training hard, absorbing the knowledge he fed her, her mind was far sharper then it had been. He had taught her to exploit her speed and striking ability, focused on the more technical side of things. He knew her strengths and weaknesses, and unlike her few scattered trainers before now? He had told her that mentality was at least as important as physical skills. You had to know why you were doing something, when you needed to do it! Wrestling was like chess to Donzig, and his mind worked like a machine.
She said nothing as he glanced at her, when she walked beside him. And then stared back down at the city, and frowned. She followed his gaze, and then took the metal flask from his hand to swallow back a swig. Whiskey. It was always whiskey.
'Why did you walk away from CWA, Donzig? From Albany?' she asked, and folded his arms over her chest. 'You were in the main event, you were getting title shots, it was all yours for the taking.'
Donzig took a long drink from the flask, and then shook his head before he muttered. His words slightly slurred, and he shrugged. 'There is a darkness in me, Sinclair. Something monstrous and evil, and everytime I walk down that aisle, and slide into that ring? I can feel it. I can feel it trying to take over. It won't stop ever, Sinclair. It wants to live forever, it wants to burn wrestling to ash, and rule over the ruins like some kind of God.'
Sinclair shivered, as for the first time ever she heard the slight ting of fear in that voice.
'It's insane, and evil. And strong, so strong.' Donzig took another drink, and he shrugged. 'And during those matches, during those wars with Jordan and Voss, and those long drawn out battles with Draven? I could feel it, taking over, getting more powerful. Taking more and more of me away. I needed to get away, I needed to get away from it. But it never goes away, Sinclair. It is always with me, an old friend with my face. With my voice.'
He sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. He turned to face her, and tucked the flask inside of his jacket. 'Do you know my secret, Sinclair? You want to know the last thing I can tell you?'
Sinclair tried to shake off the sudden feeling of dread that covered the roof, and she nodded absently. 'Yes, tell me.'
'I am not the biggest wrestler, or the strongest, or the fastest.' Donzig said, and he waved a hand absently before he looked for one of his cigars. 'I am not the greatest technical wrestler. But you know what I am? Mean.'
He paused, dragging out a cigar from one of the pockets of that coat. And he bit off the end, spitting it from the edge of the roof before he produced a match. He struck it, and then puffed on the flame before the cigar came to life with a cloud of smoke. He chewed on the end, sucking slowly before he exhaled a cloud of that heavy smoke before he continued. 'I am the meanest son of a bitch who walks the earth. And I won't let some fucker beat me without a fight. I won't let these fuckers forget that either! You in a match with one big son of bitch, girl? You fucking go for his throat, first! Show everyone else you aren't scared of them either!'
Sinclair nodded slowly, after all she knew very well how he was. Donzig didn't back down from anything, he was willing to pay any price for victory. For a win.
So was she, that was what she wanted.
Donzig nodded, and he flicked ashes from his cigar. 'I made some calls, and you have a match. Chelsea Howard. The belt is on the line, and I want you to break her. Break her like she tried to break you, Sinclair. Do that and you will be free of the past, born again.'
Sinclair blinked. 'I'm not ready, I am not sure I can.'
'We're sure you can.' growled Donzig, and his eyes narrowed as he jabbed that cigar like he was pointing. 'You are as much mine as his, and I can see the hungry dark in you!'
Sinclair swallowed, and looked away before Donzig took a deep calming breath before he looked down on the city again.
'I am leaving soon, I have to return to Albany. I have to make them pay, Slam, Monroe, and Voss. All of them, they have to pay for what they have done, Sinclair.' Donzig hissed, and the cigar was flung into the empty air. And then he stormed past her, and he looked back with a shrug. 'But before them? Chelsea Fucking Howard, eh.'
It a cold, rainy night in York, England when it all started. She was leaning against the old brick wall outside of the small arena, hand pressed against her face as she tried to hold back the tears. She had been humiliated and insulted, and beaten from pillar to post. Her body ached, and her mind raced. Should she give up? She should quit on her dreams, and return to the life she had known? Godfrey Hall was still there, as it had always been. She shook her head, staring into the darkness as she remembered.
Chelsea Howard, the NECW (Northern England Championship Wrestling) women's champion had called her out, and then beaten her in the center of the ring. Mercilessly pummeling the rookie before making her tap out. Sinclair's cheeks burned red, but what was worse was when her lackies had dragged her to her knees. Holding her there as Chelsea had slapped her, mocking her, and then saying: 'You should back to your bloody estate! You have no business in wrestling! You're nothing but trash!'
The crowd had cheered, and Sinclair had been dumped from the ring. She had held back her tears until she came outside, and now she was watching her dream die in the cold rain and fog of York. She sighed, wiping at her eyes before she turned back to the door. And then he stepped from the darkness.
The man was tall, and wore a leather jacket that looked like it had seen better days on his frame. Beneath it was a black suit, though he had ignored the tie it seemed. His hair was tied back, and he had a faint shadow of a beard. A cigar jutted from his mouth, gripped by his teeth as he exhaled a cloud of heavy smoke before he reached up to flick the ashes. Rolling his eyes at the 'no smoking' sign by the door, and then he gestured at her with the cigar. 'Hey, you're Sinclair Godfrey, right? From the match?'
American. He looked familiar, and she stared at him before nodding slowly. 'I am not doing autographs, I was trying to get some air.' She stared again as he nodded absently, taking another hit from the cigar. And then she blinked, snapping her fingers. 'Hold on! You're Donzig! From the CWA! What are you doing here, I thought you all left England.'
Donzig snorted, and exhaled another cloud of smoke. 'I go where I want. And I have always been fond of England, such great weather for brooding.'
Sinclair laughed, and pushed her wet hair back with a shrug. A nod, and she started to push the door open with a glance back at him. 'I wasn't brooding, but I think it is time I gave up.'
Donzig flicked his cigar away, and he waved a hand before he motioned her away from the door. And she stepped back, letting the door close as she looked up at him. 'No. Chelsea fucking Howard doesn't get to make you quit. You just need someone to train you, to take you to the next level. When the student is ready? The master appears.'
Sinclair blinked, and she glanced around before she gave a laugh. 'You can't be serious, you're going to train me? To what? Beat down Chelsea Howard and her minions in some little company in North England? Why?'
'Two reasons. I can see that you want to be the best, I can see you hunger for it, that what you want is victory. Domination, immortality, and to create a legacy. Such ambition should be rewarded.' Donzig paused, and he met her gaze before he shrugged again. 'The second reason? I might be a bastard, I might be cold and ruthless, and I might just be a bad guy. But I don't like fucking bullies.'
Sinclair blinked, and Donzig held a hand out as he stepped closer. She swallowed, and then placed her hand in his before they walked back inside.
The Past, Some Time Later....
Sinclair stepped onto the roof, shaking her hair back from her face as the wind snapped around it. It was a dark night, and she could see the clouds sweeping down on the city laden with rain. It would rain soon, it always did. And she looked around slowly before she saw Donzig standing near the ledge, his eyes on the city spread below them as he brooded. She rolled her eyes, tugging at the fight tape wrapped around her hands as she crossed to his side. He brooded alot, she had never met someone who spent so much time with their own thoughts as Donzig. He seemed to like being alone, thinking his dark thoughts and watching.
She had been training hard, absorbing the knowledge he fed her, her mind was far sharper then it had been. He had taught her to exploit her speed and striking ability, focused on the more technical side of things. He knew her strengths and weaknesses, and unlike her few scattered trainers before now? He had told her that mentality was at least as important as physical skills. You had to know why you were doing something, when you needed to do it! Wrestling was like chess to Donzig, and his mind worked like a machine.
She said nothing as he glanced at her, when she walked beside him. And then stared back down at the city, and frowned. She followed his gaze, and then took the metal flask from his hand to swallow back a swig. Whiskey. It was always whiskey.
'Why did you walk away from CWA, Donzig? From Albany?' she asked, and folded his arms over her chest. 'You were in the main event, you were getting title shots, it was all yours for the taking.'
Donzig took a long drink from the flask, and then shook his head before he muttered. His words slightly slurred, and he shrugged. 'There is a darkness in me, Sinclair. Something monstrous and evil, and everytime I walk down that aisle, and slide into that ring? I can feel it. I can feel it trying to take over. It won't stop ever, Sinclair. It wants to live forever, it wants to burn wrestling to ash, and rule over the ruins like some kind of God.'
Sinclair shivered, as for the first time ever she heard the slight ting of fear in that voice.
'It's insane, and evil. And strong, so strong.' Donzig took another drink, and he shrugged. 'And during those matches, during those wars with Jordan and Voss, and those long drawn out battles with Draven? I could feel it, taking over, getting more powerful. Taking more and more of me away. I needed to get away, I needed to get away from it. But it never goes away, Sinclair. It is always with me, an old friend with my face. With my voice.'
He sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. He turned to face her, and tucked the flask inside of his jacket. 'Do you know my secret, Sinclair? You want to know the last thing I can tell you?'
Sinclair tried to shake off the sudden feeling of dread that covered the roof, and she nodded absently. 'Yes, tell me.'
'I am not the biggest wrestler, or the strongest, or the fastest.' Donzig said, and he waved a hand absently before he looked for one of his cigars. 'I am not the greatest technical wrestler. But you know what I am? Mean.'
He paused, dragging out a cigar from one of the pockets of that coat. And he bit off the end, spitting it from the edge of the roof before he produced a match. He struck it, and then puffed on the flame before the cigar came to life with a cloud of smoke. He chewed on the end, sucking slowly before he exhaled a cloud of that heavy smoke before he continued. 'I am the meanest son of a bitch who walks the earth. And I won't let some fucker beat me without a fight. I won't let these fuckers forget that either! You in a match with one big son of bitch, girl? You fucking go for his throat, first! Show everyone else you aren't scared of them either!'
Sinclair nodded slowly, after all she knew very well how he was. Donzig didn't back down from anything, he was willing to pay any price for victory. For a win.
So was she, that was what she wanted.
Donzig nodded, and he flicked ashes from his cigar. 'I made some calls, and you have a match. Chelsea Howard. The belt is on the line, and I want you to break her. Break her like she tried to break you, Sinclair. Do that and you will be free of the past, born again.'
Sinclair blinked. 'I'm not ready, I am not sure I can.'
'We're sure you can.' growled Donzig, and his eyes narrowed as he jabbed that cigar like he was pointing. 'You are as much mine as his, and I can see the hungry dark in you!'
Sinclair swallowed, and looked away before Donzig took a deep calming breath before he looked down on the city again.
'I am leaving soon, I have to return to Albany. I have to make them pay, Slam, Monroe, and Voss. All of them, they have to pay for what they have done, Sinclair.' Donzig hissed, and the cigar was flung into the empty air. And then he stormed past her, and he looked back with a shrug. 'But before them? Chelsea Fucking Howard, eh.'
