Post by Shun Lei on Apr 12, 2018 15:31:40 GMT -5
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The drops of blood run down his back, tracing through the valleys and canyons of his body's form to run off and splash into small pools of crimson beneath him. As he hangs on the rack, I almost wish I could see his face now. I know he wouldn't give me any satisfaction, though. He never lets me see how he feels on the inside, not without a fight. It's all part of the chase.
I flick my wrist again, coiling up the lash. My voice rings out like a clarion in the confines of the room, echoing within but going no further. "Why did you fail?"
He remains silent. Defiance. Always a good look on him. I draw my arm back, bringing the lash around, and crack it out again, painting a bright red stripe across his back with its bite. His muscles arch and spasm, his body unable to disguise the effects of the pain, but only for a moment. And not so much as a sound from his lips. He's feeling particularly intransigent today.
As I ready the whip once more, he finally speaks, voice dissonantly serene as always. "I did not fail. I did my duty. If I am to be expected to accommodate for the faults of others at all times, then my duty becomes the impossible." A pause. When he speaks again, it almost...it almost sounds as if he's bitter. I can't imagine why. "And even you cannot truly expect the impossible."
My lips curl back in a smile. At least, it feels like a smile. I'm sure to an observer they would say otherwise. A predator's smirk, perhaps?. "No, my pet. Not the impossible. Merely the improbable."
I walk around, tipping his head up from where it hangs. His eyes are bloodshot, and I can still see the neat horizontal furrows where his teeth had nearly bit through his lower lip to keep him from crying out. Now is not the time for the lash. I drop it, letting the handle clatter to the bare concrete beneath me, and kneel down, meeting his gaze. "You can do that, yes? For me?"
I can hear his breath, feel it, ragged and desperate, like a man who knows his every breath might be his last. He doesn't smile. He doesn't laugh. He just closes his eyes and nods, swallowing down his pride and, more than likely, a bit of his own blood. "For you? I can do anything."
I pat him on the cheek, smiling. "Good. Good." Straightening up, I circle around and begin to undo the straps that bound him to the metal frame. "You can start by taking advantage of the gracious opportunity that has been afforded to us. The Combat Wrestling Champion needs a challenger, and yours is among the names in play." As I unhook his other wrist, he pushes himself up from the frame slowly, shaking his head to clear it. "Destroy the pretenders, and then snatch the one who would sit on the Blood God's throne from his perch. Take his prize and make it mine." A pause, then a correction. "Make it OURS."
Slowly, wearily, he makes his way to his feet again. I can see his frame trembling with rage, taste his desire to lash out at me. Hate and love, melded together to produce the sweetest taste there is. He meets my gaze again, refusing to back down. His voice betrays none of this, seeming calm, almost placid. "My glory is yours."
"Good." Another smile crosses my face. "See that it's done." I turn on my heel and walk out of the room, footsteps echoing through the halls. Only when he thinks I can't hear him anymore does he collapse against the wall, the dull and slightly wet thud of his bloodied back on the concrete melding with his muted groans of agony. His pride was still there, then, and I had just tested it. Good. He was at his apex when fighting for something with meaning. Best then to leave him to his preparations. Besides, his discipline is hard work, and it left me hungry.
As he hunts, then, so will I.
The drops of blood run down his back, tracing through the valleys and canyons of his body's form to run off and splash into small pools of crimson beneath him. As he hangs on the rack, I almost wish I could see his face now. I know he wouldn't give me any satisfaction, though. He never lets me see how he feels on the inside, not without a fight. It's all part of the chase.
I flick my wrist again, coiling up the lash. My voice rings out like a clarion in the confines of the room, echoing within but going no further. "Why did you fail?"
He remains silent. Defiance. Always a good look on him. I draw my arm back, bringing the lash around, and crack it out again, painting a bright red stripe across his back with its bite. His muscles arch and spasm, his body unable to disguise the effects of the pain, but only for a moment. And not so much as a sound from his lips. He's feeling particularly intransigent today.
As I ready the whip once more, he finally speaks, voice dissonantly serene as always. "I did not fail. I did my duty. If I am to be expected to accommodate for the faults of others at all times, then my duty becomes the impossible." A pause. When he speaks again, it almost...it almost sounds as if he's bitter. I can't imagine why. "And even you cannot truly expect the impossible."
My lips curl back in a smile. At least, it feels like a smile. I'm sure to an observer they would say otherwise. A predator's smirk, perhaps?. "No, my pet. Not the impossible. Merely the improbable."
I walk around, tipping his head up from where it hangs. His eyes are bloodshot, and I can still see the neat horizontal furrows where his teeth had nearly bit through his lower lip to keep him from crying out. Now is not the time for the lash. I drop it, letting the handle clatter to the bare concrete beneath me, and kneel down, meeting his gaze. "You can do that, yes? For me?"
I can hear his breath, feel it, ragged and desperate, like a man who knows his every breath might be his last. He doesn't smile. He doesn't laugh. He just closes his eyes and nods, swallowing down his pride and, more than likely, a bit of his own blood. "For you? I can do anything."
I pat him on the cheek, smiling. "Good. Good." Straightening up, I circle around and begin to undo the straps that bound him to the metal frame. "You can start by taking advantage of the gracious opportunity that has been afforded to us. The Combat Wrestling Champion needs a challenger, and yours is among the names in play." As I unhook his other wrist, he pushes himself up from the frame slowly, shaking his head to clear it. "Destroy the pretenders, and then snatch the one who would sit on the Blood God's throne from his perch. Take his prize and make it mine." A pause, then a correction. "Make it OURS."
Slowly, wearily, he makes his way to his feet again. I can see his frame trembling with rage, taste his desire to lash out at me. Hate and love, melded together to produce the sweetest taste there is. He meets my gaze again, refusing to back down. His voice betrays none of this, seeming calm, almost placid. "My glory is yours."
"Good." Another smile crosses my face. "See that it's done." I turn on my heel and walk out of the room, footsteps echoing through the halls. Only when he thinks I can't hear him anymore does he collapse against the wall, the dull and slightly wet thud of his bloodied back on the concrete melding with his muted groans of agony. His pride was still there, then, and I had just tested it. Good. He was at his apex when fighting for something with meaning. Best then to leave him to his preparations. Besides, his discipline is hard work, and it left me hungry.
As he hunts, then, so will I.
It's been too long now, hasn't it? Too long since my dear Shun Lei was let out to ply his craft, venture into the depths of his passions. Too long since the rabble of Combat Wrestling were reminded of the force that walks in their midst. And the numbers just keep growing. Five men, five subjects for his gifts. It's so lovely. I do appreciate Spike Kane, and I hope that Ethan King will be as...generous as his co-owner has been. You're a businessman, correct? Trust me when I tell you that Shun Lei is best for business.
Muru. Hungry Jack. HardKore. Are you men? Or are you simply children, hiding behind names that wouldn't be out of place in a cartoon? No matter your experience, no matter your size, no matter the violence you think you can inflict, I promise they will be inadequate. Pray that you eliminate each other, pray that you do not share a ring with my pet, for he will tear down the façades you have built and show the world what you really are: a man living his midlife crisis, a rotund buffoon with naught to offer but an appetite, and a child's conception of a competitor.
Waylon Stokes. A savage fighter, to be sure. A product of your environment as a child? Did you have to learn how to be hard to survive, Waylon? Or were you born vicious? Nature versus nurture is one of the conversations that always fascinates me. I firmly believe that there is an element of fate about the world, Waylon. Sometimes, we come to a place not because we choose to, but because we're meant to. I found Shun because I was meant to. We came here because we were meant to. And you will fall because you're meant to. It's just...in your nature.
Aiden...I told you to follow his lead, Aiden. I told you to listen. But you didn't. You stumbled in of your own accord, you thought you knew best...and you took a lariat for your troubles. I told you that you could walk your own path and face annihilation, Aiden. You walked your own path. Now, face your annihilation. Shun Lei has been waiting to pay you retribution for your failure, Aiden Reynolds. He has been straining at his leash to demolish you for your arrogance, for costing us victory. Now, he well may have his chance...assuming you survive to see him.
I hope you do, Aiden. I hope you live long enough to see your defiance break upon the rock that is my pet. He is harnessed lightning, tamed thunder, and your bluster will break against the hurricane of his wrath. You wouldn't have guessed it from looking at him, would you? You wouldn't have guessed how he hungers for your blood. He's quite good at hiding his emotions, but I have no problem telling you. I think it's better if you know what you're getting into. Let the fear soak into you, permeate everything of your being...let you think about your own impending mortality.
He will take no prisoners, for none are needed. He will give no quarter, for none is needed. You are all brothers today, gentlemen...for you will all fight together, and beneath the heel of Shun Lei, you will all fall together. Revel in your time, for it is almost at an end.
In short? Eat, drink, and be merry...for tomorrow you die.
Muru. Hungry Jack. HardKore. Are you men? Or are you simply children, hiding behind names that wouldn't be out of place in a cartoon? No matter your experience, no matter your size, no matter the violence you think you can inflict, I promise they will be inadequate. Pray that you eliminate each other, pray that you do not share a ring with my pet, for he will tear down the façades you have built and show the world what you really are: a man living his midlife crisis, a rotund buffoon with naught to offer but an appetite, and a child's conception of a competitor.
Waylon Stokes. A savage fighter, to be sure. A product of your environment as a child? Did you have to learn how to be hard to survive, Waylon? Or were you born vicious? Nature versus nurture is one of the conversations that always fascinates me. I firmly believe that there is an element of fate about the world, Waylon. Sometimes, we come to a place not because we choose to, but because we're meant to. I found Shun because I was meant to. We came here because we were meant to. And you will fall because you're meant to. It's just...in your nature.
Aiden...I told you to follow his lead, Aiden. I told you to listen. But you didn't. You stumbled in of your own accord, you thought you knew best...and you took a lariat for your troubles. I told you that you could walk your own path and face annihilation, Aiden. You walked your own path. Now, face your annihilation. Shun Lei has been waiting to pay you retribution for your failure, Aiden Reynolds. He has been straining at his leash to demolish you for your arrogance, for costing us victory. Now, he well may have his chance...assuming you survive to see him.
I hope you do, Aiden. I hope you live long enough to see your defiance break upon the rock that is my pet. He is harnessed lightning, tamed thunder, and your bluster will break against the hurricane of his wrath. You wouldn't have guessed it from looking at him, would you? You wouldn't have guessed how he hungers for your blood. He's quite good at hiding his emotions, but I have no problem telling you. I think it's better if you know what you're getting into. Let the fear soak into you, permeate everything of your being...let you think about your own impending mortality.
He will take no prisoners, for none are needed. He will give no quarter, for none is needed. You are all brothers today, gentlemen...for you will all fight together, and beneath the heel of Shun Lei, you will all fall together. Revel in your time, for it is almost at an end.
In short? Eat, drink, and be merry...for tomorrow you die.