When We're All Just Ghosts (X*Crown)
Jun 20, 2023 16:24:56 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 2 more like this
Post by bloodiedfox on Jun 20, 2023 16:24:56 GMT -5
It is night. The moon shines down upon the clearing. Bloodied Fox sits upon a fallen tree trunk, idly picking at decaying bark.
Red Spruce trees like this should stand tall for anywhere from 250 to 400 years, reaching 40 metres in height. Instead, they've become increasingly rare due to climate change increasing soil acidity, stopping them from getting the calcium they need. It's sad to think about, isn't it? Something so grand slowly dying because its surroundings turn against it, until one day it just...
He trails off, look at the dead tree with a sort of wistful reverence.
I trust we're all smart enough to get the metaphor here, yes?
He looks up, the sadness now anger.
You talk about the weight like it's supposed to be a revelation to me, DT, but nothing is further from the truth. I've been carrying it for so long now. With every step up the ladder, I was expected to bear more. The weight of expectation, the weight of representation. Without ever being asked I was expected to be a role model, a poster boy, an exemplar. Every move was watched and critiqued, every setback lamented and mocked with equal ferocity. I had people dismiss me as a token, a tick box diversity hire. I had a fucking opponent in a global tag title match say that because I was gay I must have AIDS. Apparently though, I handled it well. I must have. After all, you're so fucking adamant that I didn't need your help back then. It's not like anyone else gave a shit as my psyche was being ground down into a fine paste...
Seth Dillinger? Discarded me just like he's done everyone else in his life.
Ryan Young? Vanished into the ether.
My husband? The one man who was supposed to have my back against the world? Fucked off to Japan to start a wrestling career piggybacking off of my reputation.
Do I sound bitter? It's because I am. I was left on my own to handle all this, and when it inevitably became too much to withstand you all just dismissed me as weak.
Fox holds up the hand that was stabbed at the 2020 Rumble, the scar faded but still visible.
You mock me for not just 'getting over' being stabbed, like it's some average every day experience that everyone goes through. Being nearly drowned in a shark cage? Being stabbed through the heart and being clinically dead for 20 minutes? Apparently I just need to rub some dirt on it and stop being a fucking pussy.
He sneers disdainfully and spits on the ground.
You call me weak for not being your martyr anymore. I say the only weakness is that I didn't tell you all to go fuck yourselves a long time ago. I found the strength to face the truth, and that strength is why I'm going to win. So tell yourself that I chose to be a monster when all I did was stop caring about people who don't care about me. Tell yourself that I'm stupid enough to actually trust Submaxiswear and don't have plans for the inevitable betrayal. Tell yourself that you're doing a good thing when no-one else gives two shits either way. Most of all though, tell yourself that you're winning this, because that's going to make beating you all that much sweeter.
The sneer shifts to a cocky smile as he points a finger gun at the camera and 'fires'.
Bang.
The crunch of foot through underbrush. Fox smiles.
Was wondering when you'd show.
The man who has arrived looms over the sitting Fox. In the moonlight we see his face, and those who remember NPW will recognise the man known as Nemo, and those who remember the AWF will recall that he was the one who trained Fox and gave him his name.
You burned the Church down. You had to know I'd come for you.
Yes, which would make this a trap, wouldn't it?
Two loud ~BANGS~ punctuate the night air, Nemo collapsing as both his knees are shot out from under him. Entirely undisturbed by this, Fox stands and looks down at the man to whom he owes so much.
I'd say I was sorry, but we both know I'd be lying.
Managing to look up at him, Nemo gives a pained chuckle.
Rather me... than you... hmm?
Not really. Think of it as my way of saying thank you.
Funny... kind of... gratitude...
You'll understand.
Fox walks away into the forest, as King Submaxiswear walks past him, pistol in hand. Fox doesn't spare a single look back as the Colourless King points his gun down at the man on the ground.
Bang.
Red Spruce trees like this should stand tall for anywhere from 250 to 400 years, reaching 40 metres in height. Instead, they've become increasingly rare due to climate change increasing soil acidity, stopping them from getting the calcium they need. It's sad to think about, isn't it? Something so grand slowly dying because its surroundings turn against it, until one day it just...
He trails off, look at the dead tree with a sort of wistful reverence.
I trust we're all smart enough to get the metaphor here, yes?
He looks up, the sadness now anger.
You talk about the weight like it's supposed to be a revelation to me, DT, but nothing is further from the truth. I've been carrying it for so long now. With every step up the ladder, I was expected to bear more. The weight of expectation, the weight of representation. Without ever being asked I was expected to be a role model, a poster boy, an exemplar. Every move was watched and critiqued, every setback lamented and mocked with equal ferocity. I had people dismiss me as a token, a tick box diversity hire. I had a fucking opponent in a global tag title match say that because I was gay I must have AIDS. Apparently though, I handled it well. I must have. After all, you're so fucking adamant that I didn't need your help back then. It's not like anyone else gave a shit as my psyche was being ground down into a fine paste...
Seth Dillinger? Discarded me just like he's done everyone else in his life.
Ryan Young? Vanished into the ether.
My husband? The one man who was supposed to have my back against the world? Fucked off to Japan to start a wrestling career piggybacking off of my reputation.
Do I sound bitter? It's because I am. I was left on my own to handle all this, and when it inevitably became too much to withstand you all just dismissed me as weak.
Fox holds up the hand that was stabbed at the 2020 Rumble, the scar faded but still visible.
You mock me for not just 'getting over' being stabbed, like it's some average every day experience that everyone goes through. Being nearly drowned in a shark cage? Being stabbed through the heart and being clinically dead for 20 minutes? Apparently I just need to rub some dirt on it and stop being a fucking pussy.
He sneers disdainfully and spits on the ground.
You call me weak for not being your martyr anymore. I say the only weakness is that I didn't tell you all to go fuck yourselves a long time ago. I found the strength to face the truth, and that strength is why I'm going to win. So tell yourself that I chose to be a monster when all I did was stop caring about people who don't care about me. Tell yourself that I'm stupid enough to actually trust Submaxiswear and don't have plans for the inevitable betrayal. Tell yourself that you're doing a good thing when no-one else gives two shits either way. Most of all though, tell yourself that you're winning this, because that's going to make beating you all that much sweeter.
The sneer shifts to a cocky smile as he points a finger gun at the camera and 'fires'.
Bang.
The crunch of foot through underbrush. Fox smiles.
Was wondering when you'd show.
The man who has arrived looms over the sitting Fox. In the moonlight we see his face, and those who remember NPW will recognise the man known as Nemo, and those who remember the AWF will recall that he was the one who trained Fox and gave him his name.
You burned the Church down. You had to know I'd come for you.
Yes, which would make this a trap, wouldn't it?
Two loud ~BANGS~ punctuate the night air, Nemo collapsing as both his knees are shot out from under him. Entirely undisturbed by this, Fox stands and looks down at the man to whom he owes so much.
I'd say I was sorry, but we both know I'd be lying.
Managing to look up at him, Nemo gives a pained chuckle.
Rather me... than you... hmm?
Not really. Think of it as my way of saying thank you.
Funny... kind of... gratitude...
You'll understand.
Fox walks away into the forest, as King Submaxiswear walks past him, pistol in hand. Fox doesn't spare a single look back as the Colourless King points his gun down at the man on the ground.
Bang.