Post by Tommy Kelly on Feb 18, 2022 16:19:38 GMT -5
BORN OF A BROKEN MAN
It’s always the same, time after time. Riding the clouds, soaring above the drama and the chaos on the surface. Flying high, with gold or other accolades to keep your spirits aloft. Then suddenly, it all comes crashing down around you.
“Hey man, got any spare change?”
It’s become a running joke at this point, the legacy and the history of a once-great man, pissed away after each monumental loss. A total collapse, an embarrassment wandering from one fight to the next. Chasing that high from before, but never quite getting there.
“Change? You want some change? How ‘bout you get off your arse and fuckin’ do something about it.”
There have been many drops in the storyline, many hiccups. But the wins, the highs, greatly outweighed the bad. Losing a match is one thing, losing a belt is another. But re-claiming that gold, and turning back into the goody-goody two-shoes everyone wants again? Fucking broken record.
“Hey man, what the hell do you think you’re doing!”
Nathan Cage wasn’t anything special, a wild and uncaged dog that barked and barked. Should have been easy pickings, but he still got the better of you, didn’t he. He still got under your skin, and swooped the legs from under your ass. A vengeful fight that was, and you took the beating and left with your tail between your legs.
Who’s the dog now?
“Fuck off dude, I didn’t do nothin’ to you! Hey man… HEY!”
Then came along Mehrunes Smith. A short decrepit weirdo with a passion for poetic justice and a touch of a fancy for the works of Lovecraft. And once again, should have been an easy target but you let him take you down and show the world how rusty this old bird actually is. Mark yet another embarrassing failure on your books.
“You want me to stop? You want this to end? Then DO SOMETHIN’!”
Cliché really, of how one old lost soul can meander through life in a drunken stupor. Watching the world go by without him, watching those younger, better, faster take his place at the top. Those with more time or more passion perhaps, the next generation coming through and ending what came before. Mehrunes truly was The End.
“Fuck you man, you’re a freak!”
“…you want to see a real freak? Come here and let me show you my party trick…”
And now my path is a muddied and cloudy as ever, maybe more. Do I hang up the boots and let the kids run the playground, or do I come back and give it my all, take on everyone that still has a fight left in them and try for the win? I’ve alienated everyone I call a friend, and buried the only family I had left. So what now?
“Don’t run away little man, I was just havin’ fun!”
Back on the streets, but not by choice. Not by force either. The bank account is flush and the company has done well by me, but the streets, these cold lonely stone alleys and pathways… there is something comforting in them. Something comforting in knowing that wherever I go here, wherever I walk… I am alone. I am nobody.
I am free.
“Get OFF me man, what the fuck! Help, HELP! This crazy old fucker is trying to rob me!”
“Not trying to rob you lad… just givin’ you a little reminder… these streets are mine.”
Spending nights walking the alleys in a foggy daze, kicking other down-and-outs or trying to rile them up enough to fight has been the latest obsession. Looking for something in nothing. But even now, after pissing on some other lost soul, chasing him down, punching and kicking them until they realize the truth… it’s obvious.
Crow’s don’t belong in palaces. They belong in the wild.
“Tell me boy, you know who ‘The Thespian’ is?”
“Wh-what? No man, please, just let me go!”
“…wrong answer.”
He doesn’t know the name now, but soon he will. As I punch his dirty face into submission, a wave of power floats over me. Sure, I’m a professional kicking a homeless man, but that’s not the point. It’s the fact I am retaking what is mine.
“He’s… my next… obstacle…”
The kid stops fighting, weak from whatever his crux is, so I let him go finally. As he scrambles to escape me, I can’t help but feel like I’m making the right moves. Night after night, one less person to look for handouts, one less person looking for gimme’s.
And one more person ready to fight back.
“Remember the name boy, once I put him down for good, he won’t be much of nothin’ except history.”
He gets to his feet and runs, briefly looking back to make sure I’m not taking chase. I’m not of course… this is my alleyway now. They all are.
“Tell your friends about me… the Crow… these are his streets, boy. These are the Crow’s streets!”
He turns a corner and is gone into the night, another ignored soul on the ignorant streets of New Orleans. It doesn’t matter, little does he know he’s the lucky one. Thespian hides behind a masked face, hides who he really is. But there is no power in that. No pride.
I wear my flaws on my skin. I wear my losses and my defeats on my sleeve. I show the world how fucked I am, and how fucked I can get. No more Mr. Funnyguy. No more clean-cut, how-do-you-do fucking Kelly.
I’m a nobody. Always have been, always will. But on these streets… I can make a difference. And I WILL make a difference. These streets are mine, and soon, all the Southern States will be too.
Thespian holds the key, he’s my last hurdle.
“Don’t worry about Deathless… that’s in the past. I’m not afraid… I’m ready to go. My time is coming. Thesp… give me a good dance. Please…”
